Women on the Home Front

by Annie Groves

  The interview, when it came, was a surprise. Avril Crumblehume was heavily pregnant, a neat checked smock over her skirt.

  ‘I must tell you we’ve had many replies but we’re looking for someone who can see a wider picture than just issuing tickets, someone who would be prepared to travel with our customers and see to their comfort, to report back on any hiccups while I’m out of action. Do you have another language?’

  Lily muttered something about French Matriculation. ‘I’m willing to learn more.’

  ‘So why did you apply for the position?’

  Lily was ready for this one. ‘The idea of travel excites me. It always has. I’m already planning a trip abroad for my honeymoon. I read in the paper…’ she brought out the newspaper cutting, ‘there has to be a future in foreign holidays.’

  ‘That’s the spirit: enthusiasm, willingness to learn and an eagerness to please! Those are just the qualities we’re looking for. As you can see I’m going to be away for quite a time but I’m not quite ready for the kitchen sink yet. We all did our bit in the war so why should we gracefully retire out of sight so the men can have all the fun? I think not. Diana Unsworth recommends you highly. I hear your house is full of women on the move.’

  They spent half an hour going through secretarial duties and Lily completed the shorthand test with ease, but had she done enough to convince them of her commitment and efficiency? She had never wanted anything so much for a long time.

  ‘You’ve done what?’ shouted Walter from the landing of Well Cottage when she told him. ‘And I wasn’t even consulted on the matter, not once?’

  They were trying to tackle the peeling wallpaper in the upstairs bedroom. It was a losing battle. Well Cottage was aptly named. Lily discovered a well hidden under the scullery floor. This old house was built over everlasting springs and damp was a major problem.

  ‘Think about it, love. It’s a new company and they’re eager to try new things. They are wanting staff to try out new venues,’ she explained.

  ‘You mean we’d be their guinea pigs,’ he retorted, unconvinced.

  ‘It means, my precious, that we can go to Paris and perhaps get paid for part of our honeymoon. I hope you’ve sorted out that passport,’ she shouted from up a ladder while trying to paste the paper back on the ceiling.

  Once they got some coal fires going to warm the stone, it might be a little less damp, but that fusty smell would take a bit of shifting. It might help if Walter could do his share, but his back couldn’t take any stretching and he had no head for heights. He was good at brewing up the tea and dishing out advice, but not much else.

  Lily was not fazed by his infirmity. There was a brilliant osteopath who worked with Grasshoppers players. Pete Walsh swore by his efficacy. His injury had cost the team dear but now he was fully recovered. Only last week he’d come to collect his sister, Kathleen, from Brownies again. It was getting quite a habit, him hovering around while she cleared up and Kath went out into the playground to do cartwheels and handstands. He helped Lily put the chairs away and the stuff back in the cupboards. They often stood and chatted over the task. It was then she told him about Walter’s sufferings in the back department and he was so sympathetic. She also told him about her new job and the chance to travel.

  ‘Don’t worry, Terry’ll make a new man of him, I promise,’ Pete laughed, and she sighed, hoping it was true, for Walter Platt of late was pretty useless in all departments and she was fast losing patience with him.

  The next week Pete asked her about her job as if he was really interested. Nobody else in the family had bothered much about the big change in her life. Why couldn’t they be enthusiastic for her? This new post in town was something she’d done off her own bat. For too long she’d been dependent on the family business. This was a new start and she decided there would be no more Lil or Lily, but she’d use her mannequin name, Lee, to mark this new beginning. It sounded much more snazzy and professional. Like Lee Miller, the famous war photographer, who took pictures of herself in Hitler’s bath!

  ‘What do you mean, you’ve decided to sell up?’ said Levi, choking at the news on his extra breakfast rasher of bacon the next morning. ‘What about the business? Have you gone mad, Mother?’

  Esme was smiling as she shoved more fried bread on his empty plate. ‘I had the best night’s sleep for years. I can’t think why I didn’t think of it sooner. They’re building some bungalows up at Sutter’s Fold, with grand views and fresh air, a good breeze for the washing to dry and no sooty marks to worry about,’ she smiled, eyeing them all. ‘Or maybe I’ll flit to St Anne’s, by the sea. It’s about time you lot learned to stand on your own feet but I’ll want a bit of my share out of Health and Herbs. You’ll have to make yourself a living from it. The business’ll still be there for Neville, of course, if you don’t drink all the profits out of it, but I’ve decided to retire to the country and spend my money while I’m still game enough to enjoy it. It was Lil who gave me the notion.’

  All the eyes at the breakfast table turned to Lily. What had she done now?

  ‘It was Lil getting that new job that gave me the inclination. If stay-at-home old Lily can shift herself as well as take on that lanky loon, a cottage with water running down the walls and a brand-new job, then I’m not too past it to make some changes here, myself.’

  As Esme spoke it was as if the years were rolling off her, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

  The look on Levi’s face was a picture. ‘I think you’ve had a bad turn. You need your head examining,’ he sulked. ‘Bungalows cost money.’

  ‘I may sell this house as an investment property and I’ve still got my Crompton’s shares. I won’t starve but I’m not scrimping just to leave you a tidy packet to flush down the loo of the Conservative Club. I fancy a change,’ she said, just as Ivy popped her head round the door.

  ‘Everything all right?’ she smiled.

  ‘No it’s not,’ said Levi, with his mouth full. It was not a pretty sight. ‘Mother’s decided to sell up and leave us all in the lurch.’

  ‘You can’t sell Waverley House? Where will we go?’ Ivy replied, looking at her husband in panic.

  ‘Why ever not? You always wanted a place for the three of you across town. You’ve never liked Division Street.’ Lily couldn’t resist adding fuel to the flames.

  ‘We can’t invest in the business and buy a proper house,’ snapped Levi.

  ‘And there’s Neville’s education to see to. We were hoping you would see your way to helping us send him to the preparatory school one day. He’ll need extra coaching to get a place at Grimbleton Grammar School,’ Ivy whined in the little-girl voice she used to get round Levi.

  ‘That’s the joy of a family, lass: all those decisions to make and sacrifices to ponder over. If you want my opinion I should get yourself a decent roof over your head first and forget about giving Neville airs and graces. If he’s not the sharpest knife in the Winstanley drawer, better to let him find his own level. He’ll be the happier for it.’

  No one spoke and Lily kept her head down, sinking into her seat and trying not to smirk.

  ‘This is all your doing,’ Ivy said, pinching Lily’s shoulder as she went past. ‘How can you deprive our son and not pay his school fees?’ she asked Esme.

  ‘I’m not answering that one. I think it’s about time you cut your cloth to suit, young lady, as Redvers used to say. I’ve spoiled you all and it’s time for a fresh start. I’ve made up my mind.’ Once that steel glint was in her eye there would be no turning her.

  ‘You’re being very cruel, Mother,’ said Levi. ‘Did you know about this?’ He turned to his sister but she shook her head.

  ‘I half wondered if Lily might not like to come and join me, and leave that lazy fiancé of hers to get off his backside and do an honest day’s work for a change. She’s turned out the best of the bunch. I have to say my sons have been a bit of a disappointment, but I suppose I’ve only myself to blame.’

  ‘You’ve tak
en leave of your senses,’ said Ivy. ‘But I’d like to be a fly on the wall when you send those two foreign spongers packing with their noisy tribe of show-offs and that Olive Oil Club of theirs. They’ll have to fend for themselves at last.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I have plans for them too.’

  ‘I hope you don’t favour them instead of your own flesh and blood,’ Ivy hissed.

  ‘Joy and Dina are family too, like it or not, Ivy. What I’ll do for them is only fair. They are the future. I’ve had my day and you’d better get on with making the best of yours before it’s too late,’ she added.

  ‘Is this all because of that stupid letter?’ Ivy glowered around the kitchen. ‘Those two have turned this family upside down. We were happy enough before they barged in and ruined everything. I still think they are both having us on. You’re too generous, letting them stink out the house with garlic and oil. They’ve lowered the tone of the place.’

  ‘All the more reason why you three will be happier out of here in your own home. You never liked my friends much, did you?’ Lily replied. She couldn’t believe she’d ever been scared of Ivy’s tongue-lashings.

  ‘Well, at least we won’t be consorting with adulterers’ children. I hear that slick hairdresser’s done a runner and left that tart in the lurch. I knew she’d have to pay for her sins,’ Ivy smiled.

  ‘Mr Santini was a war hero and innocent. He didn’t deserve to hear that way. I worry about the twisted soul who wrote to him with such spite. I wouldn’t like it on my conscience that an innocent man had a heart attack on receiving such bad news from a stranger, with not even a chance to hear his wife’s side of the story. You never know what goes on behind closed doors…Look at all our secrets?’ Esme whispered.

  The silence was deafening so Lily added her own pennyworth. ‘Imagine you were lying in bed and someone sent a letter telling you that Levi was playing away. You would want to have it all out with him, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Why are you saying all this to me?’ Ivy was going red in the face. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Esme chipped in. ‘I wouldn’t like to think my son was married to the vicious soul who did that to a dying man. I gather the letter was typed and the police can easily check a typewriter to see if it was the source of the typescript. They will soon find the culprit.’

  ‘Has she taken it to the police then?’ There was a tremor in Ivy’s voice.

  ‘Oh, I expect so. It’s a criminal offence, after all, but it doesn’t concern us, does it? I think justice will be done in its own good time,’ Lily smiled, turning to her mother. ‘So you’ve made an appointment to see the solicitors to sort out your affairs and rejig your will, no doubt, while you’re at it?’

  The effect of such mischief was electrifying. Suddenly both Levi and Ivy were on guard.

  ‘Mother, you shouldn’t do anything rash.’ Levi’s voice was all squeaky.

  ‘Thanks for your concern, son, but my mind is made up. I’m leaving Division Street for pastures new. This old house’ll have to fend for itself from now on. I feel like a breath of fresh air and a bit of a change. Who’s for a trip to the seaside?’

  20

  A Bit of Blackpool Air

  Esme’s unexpected treat took everyone by surprise but the weather had faired up and she was determined to have a change of sky. First up for attention was the Rover, sitting on bricks in the garage, for an overhaul, some acid to top up its battery and enough petrol to get them there and back. It would be needed for the wedding, so out of mothballs it must come.

  It was going to be done in style or not at all, she smiled, recalling the days she and Redvers took trips to the Trough of Bowland before the war, snug with blankets, Thermos and picnic baskets, bats and balls and a change of tyre in case of a puncture.

  She didn’t feel up to driving herself but Lily would oblige. She was competent enough these days, but fixing the day out around all her daughter’s work, meetings and decoration took a bit of doing. She wanted to give the kiddies a treat to remember. Freddie would want his kiddies to have a day out in the sun.

  Levi was going to hold the fort at the market under pain of dismissal if there was even a penny out in the till. Esme had to start trusting him again.

  Everyone was tiptoeing around her since she’d announced her decision to upsticks and move. It had even shocked her. Nothing could change these last bleak months, but a walk down the Promenade might just lift everyone’s spirits. Surely Blackpool had got itself together after all the wartime restrictions?

  How she’d stuff them all in the car would take some planning, especially as Lily’d asked if Maria and little Rosa could be included. How could she say no to a poor girl who’d just lost her husband?

  She still felt uneasy about that letter…If it was Ivy’s doing then they ought to make up for it somehow. Ivy was not invited but Neville would come out with his grandma. The mums would have to squeeze in the back with their babies on their knees.

  Esme smiled. It would be like old times, with a car full of excited children watching out of the window. Who’d be the first to see Blackpool Tower?

  Punctures permitting, they’d make the Prom by noon, and a fish-and-chip treat in Lyons Corner café, a snooze on a deck chair and some ice cream on the pier.

  It was funny how she felt all perked up about moving on. Change was in the air. It was all very strange.

  ‘I want you all ready by nine sharp,’ she ordered. ‘Family in best bib and tucker, we’re on parade. Don’t forget the potty, nappies, a damp cloth for sticky fingers, and we’ll tie the pushchair on the luggage rack.

  * * *

  Maria sat in the back, squashed between Ana and Su, trying not to be sick. Rosa was bouncing on her knee in excitement, dressed in her best church cotton dress with frills, and her usual tidy smocked overall, and all Maria could think of was keeping her meagre breakfast down.

  Perhaps it was a mistake to come but the chance to get away was too tempting. She stared out at Preston docks, the long brick walls, the funnels of grey ships reminding her of the harbours of home all those years ago.

  Seagulls screeched overhead and through the window flap she smelled the salty air. So many memories came flooding back to her. Her life was in such a mess now. She could hardly breathe.

  It was kind of Mamma Winstanley to ask them out. She was a widow too, and must understand why she had to dress head to toe in black, as was the custom, but it drained all the energy out of her. She felt such a wicked woman. If only they knew her shame. What was she going to do? Soon she must go away, leave Santini’s, take any job, but where?

  Su stood on the edge of the sands looking out at the gunmetal sea shimmering in the afternoon sun. The golden sands seemed to stretch for miles but her mind was worried with news of Daw Esme’s move. Soon Lily would be leaving. Ana had her hospital work. How would she and Joy survive on their own? Perhaps she might find a job in service in a place that would take a widow and child.

  The sun went behind the clouds and she was glad of her neat jacket. Perhaps she could take in sewing or try again for a teaching post.

  The children were playing on the damp sand, eyeing each other up. Neville was trying to boss them about with his spade. Rosa bashed his sandcastle and there were tears. They were little more than babies. What would the future hold for them?

  Esme was snoring in a deck chair, shoes off and stockings rolled down. They owed so much to this kind lady. She’d taken them in like a good Christian woman; now they would have to go.

  Ana watched the line of grey donkeys plodding up the shore with children jiggling on their saddles. How different the sea was here, rough and speckled like fish scales, not the turquoise and silver of the Mediterranean. The donkeys were not pack mules or beasts of burden climbing up the mountain tracks, faithful warriors bringing supplies to the andartes hidden in the hills, but toys for children to play with. She didn’t understand.

  The sands were dotted with families playing bat
and ball, having fun. Her heart was heavy with longing. How were things back home? Would she ever return? A wave of homesickness rushed over her. What was going to happen to them now?

  Lily watched her friends all looking out to sea, silent and sad, close to tears, each of them lost in her own little world. Mother was having forty winks, oblivious to the storm cloud above their heads.

  Blackpool was doing its best to be cheerful but it looked so battered and tired, and there were still signs of war on the beach. She ought to be decorating at Well Cottage, not gallivanting, as Walt would say, but someone had to drive the car. It was quite an extravagance on Mother’s part. The moths had flown out of her purse and she’d treated the girls to everything. Was this guilt money for leaving them in the lurch?

  Lily had heard said that ‘the change’ did funny things to ladies of a certain age. What was going to happen to Freddie’s children once Division Street was sold? It was all very worrying.

  Here they all were, sitting in their own little bubbles of misery, and the sun was shining again, the sky was brightening up. There must be something she could do to cheer them up.

  ‘I’m just going down the Golden Mile to see if anything is open,’ she shouted. ‘Back in a mo!’

  They found ice-cream cones as they strolled down the Central Pier to stand out into the rushing tide, and took a ride in an open-topped landau down the other side of the Prom, past the grand hotels. Then they made for the Golden Mile and the candy-floss stand.

  ‘I’ll buy you all some,’ Lily offered, laughing as Ana tried to bite into the pink fluff. ‘It’s nothing.’ She looked so disappointed. ‘Like cotton wool. You like, Ria?’

  Maria shrugged. ‘It is big trick, just spun sugar in a machine.’

  Esme pointed out the little rock stall. ‘We can’t go home without a bit of Blackpool Rock, but you’ll need your coupons.’

  Through the window they saw a man working the toffee into long tubes like broom handles, then working it smaller and smaller, fitting in the colours into letter shapes.