by Dilly Court
Eventually she found a box of matches hidden in one of the desk drawers together with a packet of Woodbines, which was her father’s guilty secret. Mildred had refused point blank to allow him to smoke at home, and he used to light up the moment he sat down at his desk. Ginnie could still smell a hint of tobacco smoke and the walls were yellowed with nicotine. She hurried back to the geyser and after a few attempts she got it going again, and the water gurgled and burped its way through the pipes to splatter into the small sink. Having left the cups to soak she went back inside to find Fred Chinashop waiting for her with a mug of tea in his hand.
He held it out to her and his bottom lip quivered. ‘I’m so sorry about your dad, Ginnie.’
‘Thank you, Fred.’ She took it from him with a grateful smile. ‘That was a kind thought.’
‘He was the best. Sid Travis was the finest man I ever knew.’
She stared at the milky liquid, knowing that it would be horribly sweet and sickly, but she took a sip anyway. ‘I needed that,’ she said diplomatically. She looked round for a space where she could put the cup down and there was none. ‘It’s a bit of a mess in here.’
‘You’re not going to open up, are you?’ Fred peered at her and his eyes looked enormous behind the pebble lenses of his spectacles. ‘I mean, people would understand if . . .’
‘I’m carrying on where Dad left off,’ Ginnie said firmly. ‘He spent half his life building up this business and I don’t intend to let him down.’
‘But it’s not the business for a young woman to cope with alone.’
‘Why not? I’ve worked here since I left school. I know as much about it as my dad did.’
Fred shuffled his feet and stared at a point somewhere above her left shoulder. ‘I – er – well, I mean you’re a slip of a girl. You couldn’t lift a heavy piece of furniture or a roll of lino on your own.’
‘I’ll take on someone who can do the things that I can’t manage on my own. I’m here to provide a service and that’s what I’ll do.’
‘Well, good luck, Ginnie. If there’s anything I can do to help, just bang on the wall and I’ll pop round.’ Fred cocked his head on one side. ‘That was the shop door if I’m not mistaken. I think you’ve got a customer.’
That morning Ginnie sold a doormat and a kitchen stool. It would not make their fortune but it was a start, and as Mrs Richmond pointed out when she brought down a cheese scone hot from the oven, it was too soon after Christmas to expect people to go shopping for anything other than food. There were the usual queues at the butcher’s shop, the grocer’s and the greengrocer’s, but that was to be expected. She stood over Ginnie while she ate the scone. ‘That’ll keep you going until lunchtime,’ she said with a nod of approval. ‘You’re a brave girl, Ginnie. Your dad would be proud of you.’ Her eyes misted with tears and she kissed Ginnie on the cheek before bustling out of the shop, taking her plate with her.
Ginnie stood in the middle of the aisle, gazing round at the practical but unimaginative displays. She had often made suggestions in the past, but her father was conservative in his outlook and unreceptive to her ideas. ‘It’s dull,’ she said out loud. ‘Sorry, Dad, if you’re looking down at me, but this shop needs a woman’s touch and that’s what it’s going to get.’ She hurried through to the office and made a space on the desk, digging the telephone out from beneath a bundle of receipts. She found the telephone directory on the floor under a pile of show cards. She flicked through the pages, found the number and dialled.
‘Hello.’ A woman’s voice quavered at the other end of the line.
‘Hello, Mrs Fitzwilliam. It’s Ginnie Travis here.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear. Jimmy told me about your poor father. It’s a tragedy.’
‘Yes, it is, but I’m going to keep the business going. I wondered if Jimmy was free to come round and see me today.’ Ginnie heard a sharp intake of breath and waited for Mrs Fitzwilliam to recover from her surprise.
‘Yes, dear,’ Mrs Fitzwilliam murmured after a long pause. ‘I’m sure he’d be only too pleased. He’s just gone to the shops for me but I’ll tell him as soon as he gets back.’
‘Thank you.’ Ginnie replaced the receiver with a sigh of relief.
Jimmy Fitzwilliam had worked part time for her father since he was a boy. Sid Travis had taken him under his wing because he had seen something in Jimmy that other people seemed to miss. Jimmy had always been a big fellow and a bit slow when it came to school work, but he had shown an aptitude for both carpet and linoleum laying and could measure a room accurately, even though he had difficulty in working out the yardage required for each specific job. In the past this had been Sid’s domain and he had also submitted the estimates, leaving it to Jimmy to carry out the physical work. Jimmy had learned to drive and when he was called up had been given a job as an army driver, but his weak chest had caused him to be invalided out after the first winter of the war. He had returned to his old job with Sid and had joined the Home Guard.
He arrived just as Ginnie had finished tidying the office and was sorting the work into relevant piles. His big face beamed with pleasure on seeing her but this was replaced almost immediately by a look of consternation. He dragged his cap off and grasped it in front of him, stuttering an apology. ‘I – I’m sorry about your dad, miss.’
‘Thank you, Jimmy.’ She guided him out into the shop and pointed out the items of furniture and floor coverings that she wanted him to move. While he was doing this a woman came in to enquire about a coffee table and went off with a price list. Another woman wandered in wanting to purchase a tablecloth and Ginnie explained patiently that she would have to go to a haberdashery or visit one of the big stores in Oxford Street. ‘But I’ve been saving my coupons,’ the woman said angrily. ‘I don’t want to travel up West to buy a single item. You should think about what people want, young lady.’ She marched out into the street, casting disgruntled looks over her shoulder, but she had given Ginnie an idea.
At home that evening, supper was fish pie made with tinned snoek, which Mildred had previously scorned, saying that it was only fit for cat food, but with everything in short supply she declared that they were the beggars who could not afford to be choosers. Ginnie ate hers, barely registering the taste as her mind was buzzing with ideas for the shop. Shirley pushed her portion around her plate but eventually hunger got the better of her. ‘I’m only eating this because I’m breast-feeding,’ she said grudgingly. ‘Colin must come first, but if it poisons me I’ll never forgive you, Mum.’
‘Oh, eat up and stop grumbling,’ Mildred snapped.
Shirley stared at her in surprise. ‘Mum?’
Mildred pushed her plate away, leaving her own portion half eaten. ‘I know it’s horrible, love, but there’s nothing I can do about it. We’re broke, girls. Your dad didn’t have any life insurance and there’s the funeral to pay for as well as the mortgage and the costs of running a house. Sid did all that and now I’ve got to take over. I don’t know how I’ll manage.’
‘What about your savings?’ Shirley said, frowning. ‘Dad was always telling us to put our pennies in the bank.’
‘We’ve been dipping into them when business was bad. There’s not much left.’
‘You should have told us, Mum.’ Ginnie laid her hand on her mother’s shoulder. ‘We’d have stayed here and helped out and never mind what the gossips said.’
‘It’s all right for you, Ginnie. You wouldn’t have had to live with the disgrace,’ Shirley said crossly.
‘I’d have had more sense than to get pregnant.’
Shirley’s eyes welled with tears and her mouth drooped at the corners. ‘That was mean.’
Ginnie sighed, wishing that she had not spoken so hastily. She moderated her tone. ‘Look, it’s happened and you’ve got a lovely baby boy. Dad’s dead and gone and we’ve no choice but to keep going.’ She turned to her mother. ‘I’m sorting out the books at the shop, but it will take a few days. Dad left them in a bit of a mess, bu
t if you and I go over your bank statements we might be able to make some savings.’
Mildred raised her head, glaring at Ginnie. ‘What do you know about money matters, miss?’
‘I’ve done the books for Dad for the last two years. He was hopeless at keeping accounts and he’d never chase people who hadn’t paid up on time. I won’t be so lenient. I’ve got ideas for the shop and the war can’t go on much longer. When it ends people will need to rebuild their bombed-out houses and they’ll have to furnish them. I’m going to make the business pay and I’m going to make a success of it. And that is a promise.’
‘And I’ll go back to work as soon as I’m able,’ Shirley added hastily. ‘We’ll look after you, Mum. You mustn’t worry.’
Mildred wiped her eyes on her pinafore, which normally she would have taken off before sitting down to dine. She looked from one to the other. ‘You’re good girls. I’m lucky to have you.’
Sid’s funeral was supposed to be a quiet affair but when they arrived at the church, having left Colin in the capable hands of Mrs Martin’s fifteen-year-old granddaughter, Ginnie was amazed to see that the church was packed with mourners. Mildred had expected a few friends to turn up, but the meat paste sandwiches they had prepared earlier that day would not go far, and neither would the sponge cake made with liquid paraffin and filled with a concoction of cornflour, milk and a minute amount of sugar, which was somewhat grandiosely named mock cream in the government recipe leaflet. Ginnie gave her mother an encouraging smile. ‘It’s wonderful to think that Dad was so popular.’
Mildred’s bottom lip trembled but she bore up bravely until the last minute at the graveside when she broke down in floods of tears, Ginnie and Shirley were at a loss as to what to do next, but Mrs Martin, the woman who had spent most of her widowhood tittle-tattling about her neighbours, suddenly came to the fore and escorted Mildred into the church hall. There was little that Ginnie could do other than hurry after them and to her consternation she realised that everyone was following her. She shot an anxious glance at Shirley but she was deep in conversation with Olivia Mallory. That was a concern in itself but Ginnie was too anxious about her mother to waste time worrying about what Shirley would say to Laurence’s sister, or whether she would admit to having given birth to an illegitimate baby and had been masquerading as Mrs Mallory. It would be interesting to find out, but not now.
Ginnie burst into the church hall and was met by the ladies of the WVS who were manning the tea urns and trestle tables which appeared to be groaning beneath the weight of plates piled high with cucumber sandwiches and a selection of home-made cakes. Mildred was sitting on a chair being ministered to by Mrs Martin and another lady who was pressing a cup of tea into her hands. Ginnie hurried over to them. ‘Are you all right, Mum?’
‘Yes, dear. I’m sorry to make such a show of myself, and I wasn’t expecting all this. I don’t know what to say, but I’m very grateful to everyone.’
‘Quite so,’ Mrs Martin said briskly. ‘There are a lot of people who have reason to be grateful to your Sidney. Drink your tea, dear.’
The WVS lady beamed at Ginnie. ‘You don’t remember me, Virginia, but I was Brown Owl when you were in the Brownies.’ She held out her hand. ‘Eudora Fox. How do you do?’
Ginnie shook her hand. ‘Very well, thank you, Mrs Fox. I do remember you now.’
Eudora threw back her head and laughed. ‘My dear, you were very young and you would have thought I was positively ancient, which of course I am now, but the WVS has been a lifesaver. I love to feel useful.’ She drew Ginnie to one side. ‘And your father was an amazingly kind man. He was generous in the extreme both with his time and with his financial assistance. There are many people here today who have him to thank for helping them through hard times, but I’m sure you know that.’
‘Hmm,’ Ginnie said vaguely. ‘Of course.’ This was news to her but it might explain the parlous state of her father’s bank account. She moved aside as people jostled to offer their condolences to her mother, and was immediately pounced upon by Shirley who grabbed her by the arm.
‘You didn’t tell me that you’d invited Olivia,’ Shirley hissed. ‘How could you?’
‘I didn’t invite her. She must have seen the notice in the local paper.’
Shirley released her with a dissatisfied grunt. ‘She caught me on the hop. She wanted to know where I’d been all this time.’
‘You didn’t tell her?’
‘How could I? She’d pass the news on to Laurence and I’ll never see him again.’
Ginnie angled her head, puzzled. ‘But I thought you were in love with Tony. You said . . .’
‘I know what I said and I meant it, silly. I did love Tony but he’s gone and Colin needs a father. I like Laurence and his family are well off, besides which . . .’ She hesitated, blushing furiously.
‘What have you done?’
‘Well, you know I told everyone in the pub that I was Mrs Mallory.’
‘Of course I do, and I thought it was a stupid idea.’
‘Maybe, but now I’m stuck with it. When Avril took me to register the birth I had to give Colin a name, and I didn’t want the world to know that he was a little – you know what.’
‘Whose name did you give him?’ Even as the question left her lips, Ginnie knew the answer.
‘Colin Mallory.’ Shirley’s lips trembled and she glanced round nervously, lowering her tone to a whisper. ‘I know that it might have been better to use Charlie’s surname, but I couldn’t bear to have a kid called Colin Crisp.’
‘You didn’t put Laurence down as the father, did you?’
‘No, I’m not that stupid. I left that blank. You don’t have to put the father’s name, and I suppose some girls don’t know who it was anyway.’ Shirley’s eyes filled with tears. ‘And I suppose I’m one of them. Anyway, I gave my name as Shirley Mallory. I’ll go to prison and you’ll have to bring my son up for me.’
Ginnie shook off her restraining hand. ‘You’re an idiot, but I don’t think it’s illegal to use an alias. You’re going to have to be Shirley Mallory from now on, although I don’t know how Olivia’s family will like that, let alone Laurence.’
‘He’ll never speak to me again,’ Shirley said, hanging her head. ‘I deserve everything I get for being such a silly snob, but I don’t know how to tell Olivia.’
‘Tell me what?’
Ginnie spun round to see Olivia Mallory standing at her side.
Chapter Seven
There seemed to be little point in prevarication. Shirley’s stricken expression was a complete giveaway, and Olivia had the tenacity of a bull terrier. She was smiling but her eyes were alight with curiosity. ‘Do tell,’ she said in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘What secrets are you keeping from me? You were always a terrible liar so you’d better own up, Shirley Travis.’
Ginnie glanced over her shoulder, hoping that her mother was not within earshot. ‘I think you’d better make a clean breast of it, Shirley.’
‘Now I’m intrigued. Did you elope with my brother? Is that the big secret?’ Olivia folded her arms. ‘Spit it out, old thing. It can’t be that bad.’
Shirley turned to Ginnie for support. ‘You tell her. I feel such a silly ass.’
‘You’re that all right,’ Ginnie said with feeling. ‘You got yourself into this fix. You’re the one who needs to give Olivia an explanation.’
‘This is getting more interesting by the minute.’ Olivia leaned against the ancient ice-cold radiator, pulling a face. ‘You’d think they could allow a little bit of heating in this weather. It’s freezing in here.’
‘I’ll get you a cup of tea. That’ll warm you up.’ Shirley started to walk away but Ginnie caught her by the wrist.
‘No, you don’t. I’ll fetch the tea. You stay here and sort things out.’
Olivia held up her hand. ‘I don’t want a cup of tea. If you don’t spill the beans, Shirley, I’ll have to shake it out of you as I did when we were in the fifth fo
rm.’
‘You wouldn’t.’
Olivia grinned. ‘It always worked at school.’
‘Well, all right then.’ Shirley took a deep breath. ‘I went to Shropshire because I was pregnant.’
Ginnie patted her on the shoulder. She knew how much it had cost Shirley to make such an admission, especially to someone she had always looked up to and had tried to emulate. ‘Good for you,’ she said softly.
‘Really?’ Olivia’s eyes lit up and she leaned closer. ‘You’ve got a baby?’
‘Yes,’ Shirley said simply. ‘A boy.’
‘I don’t quite know what to say in the circumstances. I take it you’re not married.’
‘No.’
Ginnie held her breath, waiting for Olivia to digest this piece of information. She half expected Olivia to walk off in disgust but after a moment’s pause, she threw back her head and laughed. ‘Oh my God. Now I need something stronger than tea. I could absolutely murder a gin and tonic.’ She was suddenly serious. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. I mean I don’t know whether to congratulate or commiserate. It’s a bit of a devil, isn’t it? Who’s the father, or don’t you know?’
Visibly offended, Shirley drew herself up to her full height. ‘Of course I know who it is.’
Olivia narrowed her eyes. ‘It wasn’t my brother, was it? Not Laurence, surely? He’s so awfully prim and proper about things like that.’
‘What’s the matter, Olivia? Don’t you think I’m good enough for him?’ Shirley’s cheeks flooded with colour. ‘What would you say if I told you that you have a nephew?’
