The Victory Girls

by Joanna Toye

  ‘You’re supposed to be taking it easy!’

  ‘Tch,’ said Dora. ‘I’ve never been so idle. Or bored! It doesn’t suit me!’

  ‘Well, get used to it,’ Lily replied. ‘I’m getting good practice in housewifery – is that a word? – for when me and Jim get a home of our own.’ Then she added, ‘Mind you, so is he, and he’ll need it with my efforts, poor man!’

  She cleaned the offending window herself under Dora’s critical eye (‘You’ve missed a bit in the corner!’) then heated them both up some soup and quickly washed up their dishes and the pan. On her way back to work, she called next door and asked Kenny to go in and sit with Dora.

  ‘And don’t let her out of your sight!’ she ordered.

  Like a prison guard, she thought, though she obviously didn’t use that phrase to him.

  Dora, meanwhile, was still in the armchair where Lily had positioned her with her Mills and Boon from the library, but her eye had already wandered to the shelf with Jim’s books on it – what dust-gatherers they were! Surely dusting a few books couldn’t do her any harm …

  ‘Anyone home?’

  ‘Kenny!’ she called. ‘In here! But boots off, please!’

  ‘I know!’ he chanted back.

  ‘This is nice,’ said Dora as he came through in his socks. ‘I’d offer you a cup of tea but you’ll have to make it yourself. I’m under strict instructions from my daughter not to move.’

  ‘She can be very fierce, your Lily,’ reflected Kenny, thinking of how Lily had just laid down the law to him. ‘Mind you, you’ve told me a few home truths yourself.’

  ‘Not as many as Phyllis, I don’t think!’ smiled Dora. ‘When’s she coming up again? Or are you going to see her?’

  There’d been a lot of coming and going between Hinton and London for the two of them since the girl’s first visit.

  ‘Funny you should ask …’ Kenny bit his lip, bashful. ‘I’m going down to see her this weekend, as it happens. And … I’m staying in London, Dora. For good.’

  ‘Oh! I see!’

  ‘There’s more facilities and better treatment down there,’ Kenny explained. ‘More expertise in fitting limbs and that.’

  ‘Right,’ Dora mused, but couldn’t stop herself from adding, ‘and is that the only reason?’

  Kenny looked even more bashful.

  ‘No, maybe not,’ he admitted. ‘Meeting up with her again, well … I’ve realised maybe I was a fool to let her go the first time.’

  ‘Hindsight’s a wonderful thing,’ said Dora. ‘But to get a second chance is even more wonderful.’

  She was thinking of Sam. He’d been devastated to hear she’d been taken ill, wiring Lily the money to buy ‘the biggest bunch of flowers you can’ for her return home.

  ‘That’s what it feels like to me,’ Kenny enthused. ‘About everything. Phyllis has already been in touch with some people who can help me. And fixed me up some appointments.’

  ‘That’s very good news, Kenny,’ said Dora warmly.

  ‘I’ll let you know my address,’ said Kenny. ‘I’ll be in lodgings – Phyllis is finding me somewhere. She’s in the nurses’ home, you see.’

  She’d run him like a greyhound, Dora thought, smiling. Still, he needed it.

  ‘You must keep in touch,’ she said. ‘Let us know how you’re getting on.’

  She looked down at her library book: With All My Worldly Goods by Mary Burchell. On the cover, a radiant bride and groom were cutting their wedding cake. Kenny and Phyllis … Well, why not?

  Chapter 29

  The staff entrance to Marlows was round the back in Brewer Street. Made late by her detour to enlist Kenny, Lily was taking it at a gallop when who should she see ahead of her but Jim.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ she panted, catching him up. ‘You never said you were going out at dinnertime – secrets already, huh?’

  ‘Not even married and my time’s not my own,’ Jim sighed dramatically, opening the entrance door for her. ‘I’ve been to the register office as it happens.’

  ‘Oh, Lord.’ Lily signed back in in the timekeeper’s ledger. ‘Has Mum been nagging you as well?’

  As they’d been drinking their soup, Dora had again pressed Lily to name another date.

  ‘I don’t need nagging, I went of my own accord,’ said Jim with dignity, taking the pencil from her. ‘I’ve brought you a selection from the end of April through to the middle of May. The doc will definitely have signed your mum off by then.’

  Lily checked there was no one from management behind them, then stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss.

  ‘I do love you,’ she said. ‘Tonight, we’ll decide.’

  When Lily got back to the sales floor, things were quiet – so quiet that Miss Frobisher had strayed over to the Toy department. She beckoned Lily to join her.

  ‘Which do you think?’ She indicated a selection of board games, newly arrived. ‘Submarine Hunt, Sky Battle, or Ocean War?’

  John was coming up to six in the summer, Lily knew.

  ‘They’re a good price,’ she said. At 2/- each they were very reasonable. ‘But if the war ends as soon as we hope, they could be reduced before John’s birthday!’

  The end was looking more and more likely. Since the start of the year, the Allies had reportedly taken over a million German prisoners on the Western Front and many more as they swept up through Italy. On the Eastern Front, where Russian forces were pressing steadily westwards, almost another million had surrendered. Hamburg, Nuremberg, and of course Berlin were still holding on but the Allies had scented victory and they were not going to let up now.

  Miss Frobisher’s hand hovered over Ocean War.

  ‘I could have one put by,’ she mused. ‘I think he’d like this one best.’

  Just then, Mr Simmonds approached with Jim at his heels. Mr Simmonds was looking very smug, and Jim had his Cheshire Cat grin on again – a Cheshire cat who’d lapped up a whole churn of cream.

  Miss Frobisher returned Ocean War to the display.

  ‘Ah, you’ve heard!’ she said.

  ‘Yes!’ answered Mr Simmonds. ‘And we’re on! Or rather, these two are!’

  Lily looked from one to another like a spectator at a tennis tournament. Were they talking about the wedding? Her wedding? After all that, had Jim settled on the date by himself and shared it with Mr Simmonds? Thanks very much!

  ‘Erm …’ she hazarded.

  Jim looked at Mr Simmonds. ‘May I? he said.

  Mr Simmonds nodded and Jim turned to Lily.

  ‘What do you say to two weeks in London? All expenses paid. On a management training course! Both of us!’

  Confusion, then disbelief, then delight, chased each other across Lily’s face.

  ‘What? You … and me?’ She turned to Miss Frobisher. ‘That’s … Jim – Mr Goodridge – I can understand, but why me?

  ‘Now, Miss Collins,’ said Miss Frobisher sternly. ‘Don’t go fishing for compliments. It demeans you.’

  ‘I wasn’t fishing. I mean it!’ protested Lily.

  ‘You don’t see what others see, Miss Collins,’ said Mr Simmonds. ‘Why you deserve it. How you’ve matured since you started here.’

  Lily looked at Miss Frobisher for confirmation.

  ‘Let me remind you,’ she said. ‘Back in ’42 when your brother went missing, you went to pieces, so distracted I could only use you in the stockroom. Your mother’s just been gravely ill, but apart from a couple of days off at the beginning, you’ve been here every day, out front, dealing with customers perfectly normally, no matter what extra responsibilities and worry you’ve been carrying at home. Do you start to see what I mean?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘Must I go on? You and Mr Goodridge were nearly killed in that bomb here. Plenty of members of staff would never have been able to set foot through the doors again, but you came back. And just last year when I was away—’

  ‘Yes, all right,’ said Lily, embarrassed at this parade of her virtu
es. ‘Thank you. But none of it felt like anything special to me. I was only doing my job.’

  ‘And we think you could do an even bigger job in due course,’ said Mr Simmonds. ‘Especially when things get back to normal after the war. Junior buyer on one of the larger departments, perhaps.’

  Junior buyer! What would her mum say?

  ‘There is just one thing,’ said Jim. His smile had faded. ‘I did explain to Mr Simmonds. This course, it’s at the end of April and the beginning of May.’

  Lily burst out laughing.

  ‘Here we go again – another postponement! It had better be third time lucky!’

  Within days, Lily and Jim had their acceptance on the course confirmed, and a whole load of bumf about it arrived.

  ‘The course will take place at the offices of the Retail Services Training Board, Tottenham Court Road, London,’ Lily read. She and Jim were up on the roof of the store with sandwiches; on warmer days it offered the chance of some fresh air at dinnertime without the bother of a pass out. ‘Please report to the Reception desk at 9.30 a.m. on Monday 30th April. Your employer will supply you with a rail warrant for travel the day before. Hostel accommodation will be provided at YMCA and YWCA hostels as required. Please bring your ration book with you—’

  ‘Blah, blah,’ said Jim. ‘Have a look at what they’ll teach us.’

  Lily rifled through the booklet.

  ‘You will be guided through every stage of the retail process,’ she read again, ‘from the importance of making the right buying decisions, through supply chain management, merchandising, understanding customer behaviour, and a strategy for— Jim, I don’t even understand half these words!’

  Jim took the booklet from her and put it to one side.

  ‘It’s blah, blah again. You’ll be fine. It’s all long words and high-falutin’ talk for what you do every day without thinking. Buying decisions – that’s what you know sells well, plus ten to fifteen per cent of new lines as a try-out and dropping stuff that’s sticking. Supply chain management – all that means is chasing manufacturers, cutting out as many middlemen as you can. Merchandising – in plain English, that’s—’

  ‘Oh, stop it! It’s all right for you, you’ve got your School Certificate. I left at fourteen!’

  ‘Only because your mum couldn’t afford for you to stay on! You’re a natural learner, Lily. Once you’re back in a classroom, you’ll be teacher’s pet before the end of the first day. You could probably teach the course if you put your mind to it. It’s a good job I don’t feel threatened by being married to a career woman!’

  ‘When we finally get married!’

  Their much-postponed wedding had become almost a standing joke.

  ‘I know. Call me superstitious,’ said Jim, ‘but I’m not going back to that register office till we’ve been to London. After the last few months, who knows what might get in the way this time?’

  They might not have a new wedding date, but with Dora duly signed off by the doctors, the daffodil trumpets blowing merrily in the wind, and the news from Europe getting more encouraging by the day, Lily and Jim were in good spirits when they set off for London.

  It was exciting to be having an adventure – not as exciting as embarking on married life, perhaps, but at least they’d be spending all day, every day, together, and evenings as well, even if not whole nights. There’d be no ARP duties for Jim, no WVS for Lily. They’d be free to enjoy themselves, with all that the capital had to offer, and among those things was Sid.

  But when Lily had asked if they could meet up, Sid had been unusually reticent. ‘Operational matters’ were keeping the Admiralty busy and he was reluctant to make an arrangement only to let her down. He took the telephone number of the hostel and said he’d let her know. It was disappointing, but Lily could understand – if Sid being busy meant a quicker end to the war, she was happy to wait.

  Their train clanked into Euston only forty-five minutes late. Emerging through the station’s magnificent classical arch, they paused to take stock. It was a lovely sunny Sunday.

  ‘Let’s walk,’ said Jim, map in hand. ‘The hostel’s not that far. I’ll carry your case.’

  Lily had visited London once before and they’d both seen the newsreels, but to see the scale of the destruction they passed was still a jolt. Between stretches of dust and rubble, even the intact buildings were battle-scarred. The roads were pitted and potholed, the pavements cracked or missing entirely. It was sad to see, but there were still signs of hope. The war couldn’t stop the seasons of the year: the plane trees were a vivid green and the wings of starlings were iridescent as they caught the sun. A barrow boy passed, singing the rude words about Hitler that someone had made up to the tune of ‘Colonel Bogey’. Other words came to Lily’s mind – those of the Prime Minister five years ago after the retreat from Dunkirk. ‘We shall not flag or fail … we shall go on to the end … we shall never surrender …’ Tears came to her eyes. They hadn’t, and now things really were almost at an end.

  As Jim had promised, their hostels weren’t far, and they discovered they were side by side. They parted to dump their things, agreeing to meet again in twenty minutes. But when Lily stuck her head out of the window of her dormitory, a familiar head was poking out of the window next door. Jim!

  ‘Where’s your bed?’ she asked.

  ‘Two up from the window,’ he replied.

  ‘Mine too!’ cried Lily. ‘We can knock on the wall!’

  ‘If only I’d brought a pickaxe!’ mourned Jim.

  Next day, they presented themselves as requested, and with twenty others were shown straight to their classroom. Their tutor, Mr Robson, was a tall, bald man with a bow tie and a brisk manner. After a cursory good morning and a brief introduction, he launched straight in.

  ‘Notebooks out, pencils at the ready,’ he said, turning to the blackboard. ‘So, who can tell me, what is a shop for exactly?’

  It went on like that all day. Mr Robson had an unnerving habit of balancing on the balls of his feet, rocking forwards till Lily felt sure he’d topple over, which hardly made it more relaxing. Thank goodness, thought Lily, she and Jim had opted for safe seats in the middle of the class, not the front row. All in all, by the time they were let out at five thirty, her brain felt like one of the jumbled messages which, it was emerging, British boffins had managed to unscramble, giving the Allies early warning of the enemy’s planned attacks. As much as anything, this breakthrough had hastened the end of the war – and there was no doubt it was speeding towards them now. Newsboys were shouting themselves hoarse and their placards competed for the most attention-grabbing headline. There were almost too many to choose from. Lily didn’t know which way to look.

  MILAN, GENOA, VENICE AND MUNICH TAKEN

  SOVIET TROOPS PIN DOWN NAZIS IN BERLIN

  MUSSOLINI DEAD – MOB TRAMPLES BODY

  ‘It’s the end,’ said Jim, eyes shining. ‘It has to be.’

  Chapter 30

  There was a peculiar atmosphere in the classroom next day. Everyone, including Mr Robson, tried to give the course their full attention, but at dinnertime everyone stampeded for the newsstands to devour the latest developments. But it was another full day before the news that everyone had been waiting for came.

  ‘Have you heard?’ As they collected the meagre breakfast provided by the hostel, one of Lily’s classmates broke the news. ‘Hitler’s dead!’

  Lily bolted her toast and gulped down her tea, then raced out to the nearest newsstand. Jim had beaten her to it, and met her halfway, waving the paper. With solemn music and drum rolls, it had been announced on German radio last night. Hitler, apparently, had fallen ‘fighting the forces of Bolshevism’.

  ‘Fallen, indeed!’ scorned Jim. ‘Trying to make out he was some kind of hero defending the citadel? We all know he’s been holed up in his bunker for weeks!’

  Lily was scanning the paper.

  ‘What do you think happened? Did he kill himself?’

  ‘Either
that or one of his henchmen that’s still got a slight grip on reality saw him off. He’s finished, whatever.’

  ‘It’s finished. It’s over now, Jim, surely.’

  There was an even more peculiar atmosphere in the classroom in the days after that. Everyone was keyed up somehow; everything felt unreal. The war in the Far East raged on, but all eyes were on Europe. Hitler had supposedly handed power to Admiral Dönitz who was fighting on with the rump of the Nazi army, but with the Red Army laying waste to Berlin, it was a hopeless cause.

  Lily waited for a message from Sid but there was no word from him, and not much more from the powers that be, either. The papers reported plans for a celebratory ‘Victory in Europe’ day, with extended licensing hours for pubs and dance halls, and bonfires allowed for the first time since 1939 (with non-salvageable wood, of course). But the days dragged on and there was no indication of when that day would be, just a sort of limbo. It was hard to concentrate sitting in a classroom, far from home.

  ‘Miss Collins? If I could have your attention?’ Lily had been gazing out of the grimy window, wondering what Dora would have to say about it when she replied to Lily’s excited postcard home. ‘What steps could you take to increase interest in a promotion that doesn’t seem to be working?’

  Lily dragged her attention back to the imaginary store and imaginary footwear department where a promotion of slippers hadn’t yielded the hoped-for boost to sales. So much for teacher’s pet!

  Finally, the announcement came. At 2.40 in the morning on May 7th, Germany surrendered unconditionally on all fronts. There would be two days of public holiday, with the first, May 8th, to be called Victory in Europe Day. VE Day had arrived!

  There was a long queue for the telephone booth at the hostel, and even longer ones outside every phone box, but Lily was determined.

  ‘I don’t care how far we walk, I’ve got to make contact with Sid, and I have to try and get a message to Mum!’ she said, dragging Jim in her wake as they pressed through the crowd. Londoners had started celebrating early. They were spilling onto the pavements from the pubs, music was blaring from gramophones in the flats above shops and people were dancing in the streets. ‘I never imagined I wouldn’t be with her on the day the war ended!’