Daisy felt uncomfortable. She didn’t want to fall out with her new friend. She smiled back and went to fetch her overall, leaving the new jacket on the peg behind the door. That morning she worked twice as hard and took on some of June’s duties as well, hoping to mollify her a little.
It seemed to work but when they stopped for their break, June was very quiet.
At the end of their shift, Mrs Green asked Daisy to stay behind to be instructed in the use of the till. ‘It’ll give you a start in the morning,’ she said. ‘Don’t worry. You’re a bright girl. You’ll soon pick it up.’
Daisy said goodbye to her friends and followed the supervisor into her office.
After explaining that as well as taking money on the counter, she would be responsible for cashing up at the end of the shift, Mrs Green led her through to the canteen. They spent a few minutes practising until Daisy felt confident she could manage.
‘Well done. Now, I’ll be with you for the first half hour and then I expect you to manage alone. I’ve too much paperwork to do to spend more time with you.’
Daisy still felt a bit nervous, but she smiled and nodded, hoping she looked confident.
She said goodnight and went to fetch her coat. As she buttoned it up, the door opened and Private Tompkins came in.
He started and said, ‘Oh, you’re still here. I thought everyone had gone now the canteen’s closed.’
‘I’m just off,’ Daisy said, edging past him. What was he doing here so late?
‘I’ve been doing some overtime. Mr Browning asked me to stay late,’ he said, hastily stepping aside.
Daisy hurried out, glancing behind to make sure he wasn’t following. She remembered Lily’s remark and that cheeky wink he’d given on her first day, the way he’d flirted with her. There was something about him that made her shiver and yet he hadn’t really said or done anything untoward. But why had he felt it necessary to explain why he was there? It was none of her business after all.
She had just reached the main gate when she heard footsteps behind her. She wasn’t nervous. After all there were always two soldiers on guard at the entrance to the garrison so she felt safe enough – most of them knew her now and she was seldom asked to show her pass.
She called out a cheery goodnight to them, slowing down so that whoever was behind her would overtake her. She was used to walking home in the dark on her own despite the blackout, but she didn’t fancy it with someone following.
She sighed when someone called, ‘Daisy, wait. I’ll walk you home.’
It was Harold Tompkins hurrying to catch up with her. ‘I thought you were working late,’ she said.
‘I was just finishing up. You shouldn’t be on your own this late.’
‘Don’t you have to be back in barracks?’ she asked.
‘Got a late pass,’ he said. He walked alongside her, whistling under his breath. It was a habit she found extremely irritating. Still, it was better than him trying to chat to her. He’d hardly spoken two words to her since she’d started working in the NAAFI and she was happy to keep it that way. When they reached the Clock in the town centre, she stopped and said, ‘I’ll be OK from here. See you tomorrow.’
As she made to walk away he grabbed her arm. ‘Daisy, I’ve got something for you.’ He thrust a package at her.
‘What...?’
‘It’s fruit cake – left over. Mr Browning said I could take it. He lets me have a few things – extras, when I work late.’
Daisy didn’t like to say no, but she didn’t want to upset him. ‘Why give it to me?’
‘I’ve got plenty,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I know how hard it must be for your mum – with the rationing and that.’ He hurried away and she stood for a moment staring after him, then down at the package in her hand. She was tempted to throw it away, feeling a little sick at the thought of him trying to get round her that way. But she couldn’t. Food was food and there were strict rules nowadays about wastage. Besides, Mum hadn’t been able to make any cakes lately due to the shortages. Daisy just hoped she wouldn’t ask too many questions about where it came from.
Chapter Five
Still no letter from Bob and Daisy was feeling really fed up. She had written to him again last night, filling pages with stories of the NAAFI and her new friends, although she didn’t mention Harold or the cake. As usual, she’d ended by telling him how much she loved and missed him. She would post it on her way to work. Perhaps there would be something in the second post. It was a hope to hold on to during the long working day.
When she came downstairs, her father was finishing his breakfast and he grinned at her as he wiped his plate with a piece of bread. ‘Mum tells me there’s a nice slice of fruit cake in my dinner tin today. Any more where that came from?’
‘I don’t think so, Dad. I’m a bit worried actually. I think Harold gave it to me to keep me quiet.’
‘What do you mean, love? You said it was left over.’
‘That’s what Harold told me, but I’m not so sure. He looked a bit shook up when he came out of the store and saw me. I had a feeling he shouldn’t have been there.’
Dora turned from the sink, the teapot in her hand. ‘Oh, no. Do you think he pinched it?’
‘I don’t know, Mum. It’s just a feeling I had.’
‘Well, you’d better steer clear of him, my girl. I don’t want you bringing stolen goods into this house.’ She banged the teapot down on the table, causing the lid to rattle.
Daisy wished she hadn’t mentioned her suspicions. ‘Don’t worry, Mum. I don’t like him and I have no intention of accepting any more gifts from him. Besides, I might have got it wrong.’
Stan pushed his chair back. ‘Perhaps you’re making too much of it, love. It’s not unheard of for a bit of pilfering to go on. I saw it when I worked in the Dockyard. The bosses turn a blind eye most of the time, unless it gets out of hand.’
‘Well, Stan Bishop, I hope you never get involved in any of that. We’re a respectable family.’ Dora’s face was red with indignation.
‘Don’t worry, old love. Too scared of getting caught, me.’ Stan took his coat off the back of the door and kissed Dora’s cheek. He turned to Daisy. ‘Still, as your mum says, best keep out of his way. If he is up to no good, you don’t want to get caught up in it.’
Daisy nodded and sat down at the table, while her mother poured tea and placed two slices of toast in front of her. ‘Thanks, Mum. I’m sorry to have caused an upset. I didn’t think.’
‘I know you wouldn’t do anything wrong, love. Now, get on with your breakfast, you don’t want to be late for work.’
Thoughts of Bob were banished as Daisy walked to work, going over the previous evening’s encounter with Harold. Had she been too hasty in suspecting him? She resolved to put the incident out of her mind and to avoid him as much as possible. It would be hard, given they worked in the same place, but from now on she would make sure she walked home with one of her workmates.
As usual they were so busy she didn’t have time to think about anything but getting the order right and giving the customer the right change.
It was nearly dinner time and she was looking forward to resting her aching feet when the tall soldier they called Lofty came in and asked for a packet of ten Woodbines. ‘I’m sorry, we’ve run out. Will Senior Service do?’
‘I’m not sure. I’m getting them for a mate. I don’t smoke myself.’
The dinner time rush hadn’t started and there were only a few customers so Daisy said, ‘If you’re not in a hurry I could go and see if there’s any in the store.’
‘All right. I’ll have a cup of tea while I’m waiting.’
Daisy served his tea and asked June to keep an eye on things while she went to the store.
Mr Browning was there checking the shelves and ticking items off on a clipboard. He glared at her as she reached up to the shelf where the cigarettes were kept. ‘Don’t forget to make a note how many you take,’ he snapped. ‘You girls are too la
x. How can I be expected to keep track of what’s needed and order more if you don’t keep proper records?’
‘Yes, Mr Browning.’ She grabbed a pack containing twenty-four packets of Woodbines and ticked it off on the list by the door, scribbling her initials beside it. She hurried outside, glad to get away from the grumpy manager. His attitude made her wonder once again if he could really have given permission for Harold to take home the leftover food. It seemed out of character to her.
Back in the canteen she found that a queue had formed and June was looking flustered. ‘I’ll take over now,’ she said, handing her a packet of Woodbines and asking her to take them over to Lofty, who was sitting at a table with one of his mates.
She turned to the next customer, a sailor who gave her a cheeky grin and ordered a cup of tea and sausage and mash. She served him and then went on to the next one in the queue, and the next. She didn’t have time to respond to the flirty remarks and suggestive grins.
When the crowd thinned out, she looked across to where Lofty had been sitting but he had gone. She was a little disappointed that he hadn’t stayed for a chat as he usually did. She wasn’t being disloyal to Bob, she told herself. It just made a change to talk to someone who didn’t tease or make suggestive remarks when she served him.
At last it was time for her break and she joined June at their usual table. Her friend lit up a cigarette and offered the pack to Daisy, who shook her head.
‘Sorry, I forgot,’ June said. ‘Your friend doesn’t smoke either. So, what’s he doing buying Woodbines?’ She grinned slyly as she emphasised the word friend.
‘He’s not my friend. Anyway, he said they were for a mate.’
June winked. ‘Just an excuse to come in and see you,’ she said.
‘Don’t talk daft.’ Daisy could feel herself blushing and June giggled.
‘Well, he did look a bit put out when I went over instead of you and he kept looking across at you.’
‘I’ve already got a boy friend as you well know,’ Daisy protested.
‘But he hasn’t written, has he? I’d give him the elbow. Plenty more fish in the sea.’ That was June all over; “love ‘em and leave ‘em” was her philosophy.
Daisy didn’t reply, drained her teacup and stood up. ‘Better get back to work,’ she said.
She took over from Mrs Green at the till and was soon inundated with customers, most of whom were buying cigarettes. They were the most popular item as they were cheaper to buy in the NAAFI.
It seemed no time at all before her shift ended and she paused, rubbing her back which ached from standing so long. She couldn’t wait to get her coat and be on her way home. As she lifted the flap on the counter, Mrs Green called out. ‘Before you go, would you mind just re-filling the shelves for me? Those fags are going like hot cakes today. I think Mr Browning’s in the office, so you need to ask him for the key.’
Daisy hated speaking to the grumpy manager, but she nodded and hurried away. He was sitting at his desk writing in a notebook and he started as she came in after getting no reply to her knock.
‘Don’t you knock?’ he snapped
‘I did,’ Daisy said indignantly. ‘Sorry to disturb you. I need the store key.’
‘Why? You already got more fags earlier on.’
‘We’ve nearly run out and Mrs Green wants the shelves filled ready for the evening shift.’
He threw the key across the desk and Daisy grabbed it, anxious to get away.
As she opened the door he called after her, ‘...and don’t forget...’
‘To sign the sheet,’ she muttered, as she hurried across the yard to the store.
Making sure the blackout curtain over the door was in place, she switched on the light and went to where the cigarettes were kept. She found an empty cardboard box and put in three packs of Woodbines. She decided to take only two of Senior Service as, due to their higher price, they didn’t sell so many but as she reached up to the shelf, she noticed that there were not as many packs as there were when she’d come in earlier. As far as she knew, no other staff member had been in the store and the shelves behind the counter in the canteen were almost empty.
She shrugged and put the box down by the door while she signed the inventory list. There were no other signatures below her own initials that she’d written earlier. Something wasn’t right. She knew that they sometimes sent stuff to the NAAFI at RAF Eastchurch if they ran low on supplies. Perhaps that’s what had happened and Sid Browning had forgotten to record it. As she staggered over to the NAAFI with the heavy box she couldn’t help smiling. The manager was so strict about keeping records but he wasn’t infallible.
She hastily filled the shelves, said goodbye to Mrs Green who was cashing up the till, and hurried out into the balmy April evening. It wasn’t full dark and there was a feeling of spring in the air. Not before time, Daisy thought, after the long hard winter they’d just gone through. She enjoyed the walk home after being indoors all day, taking the long way round up Beach Street to the seafront.
This time she had no fear of Harold following her. It had been his day off and she was glad that she hadn’t had to speak to him as she was almost convinced that he hadn’t come by that cake honestly. She certainly wouldn’t be accepting any more gifts from him. Although she hated herself for her suspicions, there had been something furtive about his expression when she came upon him in the kitchen after everyone had gone home. So what had he been up to?
She was more worried about the missing cigarettes and resolved to mention it to Mrs Green the next day. Surely there must be an explanation. Sid Browning had simply forgotten to sign the inventory, she told herself.
Chapter Six
When she got home, the first thing she did before taking her coat off was to look at the mantelpiece to see if there was a letter, not that she expected anything. It had been weeks since she’d heard from Bob. Her heart leapt when she saw an envelope peeking out from behind the china dog, but disappointment swept over her when she picked it up and saw it was from Sylvia. It was addressed to her mother but had been opened. As she went to put it back, Dora came in from the kitchen.
‘You can read it if you like,’ she said. ‘Not much news really. I suppose she can’t tell us about her work, but she seems to be having a good time going to dances and that.’
Daisy smiled. ‘Typical Sylvia. I wonder if she still keeps in touch with that Roland who came here.’
Dora handed her the letter. ‘See for yourself. She says she hasn’t heard from him, but she doesn’t seem really serious about him. I think some of the glamour’s worn off now he’s based here. Still she’s good at hiding her feelings. She puts up a front.’
After reading her sister’s letter Daisy understood what her mother meant. It was obvious Sylvia was missing Roland and wished he was still stationed near her. At least he’s not in danger like my Bob, she thought. Eastchurch was not operational but was being used as a Polish training centre.
Thinking about it made her realise she shouldn’t be annoyed that Bob hadn’t written. She had stopped really listening to the wireless news – it was too upsetting. But over their evening meal, Dad would go on and on, saying that the Germans were gaining ground and predicting an invasion any day. Daisy was glad he’d gone to the pub and they wouldn’t be forced to listen quietly while he sat close to the wireless drinking in every word. She swallowed a lump in her throat. Bob was all right – he must be. His mother would have heard if anything had happened and Mrs Gardner would come straight round to tell her.
She would write to Bob tonight, and just hope that he got the letter. She finished her meal and, after helping her mother to clear up, she went upstairs and got out her writing pad and pencil. She hated writing in pencil but the nib had broken on her pen and she hadn’t been able to buy a new one. Everything was getting harder to come by as the war went on. More food was being rationed but it wasn’t just food. Her mother was always complaining that the shops were almost empty.
It
was cold in the bedroom, but she pulled a cardigan around her shoulders and put a blanket over her knees. Her dad would be home soon, and she didn’t want to go downstairs in the warm and brave his teasing about love letters.
She had filled two pages with little anecdotes about her job in the NAAFI and her fellow workers and then she stopped and bit the end of her pencil. She had to tell Bob how she felt, let him know that she longed for him to come home, that she would wait for him forever. She covered another page with words of love and longing, trying to stem the tears that rolled down her cheeks. ‘Please, Bob. Write back to me,’ she whispered.
She brushed her hand across her eyes and signed her name, adding a row of crosses as kisses. As she started to address the envelope, she heard a knock at the front door and a commotion in the front passage. She glanced at her bedside clock. It was just gone nine o’clock. Who could it be at this time of night?
Heart thumping, she ran down the stairs to see her mother embracing a young lad, tears running down her face. She was laughing and crying at the same time. She turned to Daisy. ‘Look who it is. Our Jimmy.’
‘Jimmy! What...?’
‘I’ve come home. I hated it there. I ran away.’ Jimmy looked defiant. ‘You can’t make me go back.’
‘Never mind, love. Come into the warm. Oh, let me look at you. How you’ve grown,’ Dora urged him into the kitchen where the range was still throwing out a little heat. ‘Now, sit down and I’ll get you something to eat.’ She bustled around cutting bread, taking butter and cheese from the pantry.
Daisy sat at the kitchen table beside her brother. ‘How did you get here? It’s a long way from Wales.’
‘Leave the boy alone, Daisy. Let him have something to eat and drink, then he can tell us the story.’ She placed a plate of sandwiches in front of him and then filled the teapot. She poured tea for all three of them and sat at the table watching fondly as Jimmy wolfed the food down.
Daisy's War Page 4
