by Annie Groves
Jean shivered and moved closer to him. ‘The twins will be leaving school next summer. Maybe there’ll be some jobs going at Lewis’s that would suit them.’
‘I can’t see them two bowing and scraping to the posh women that our Grace has to serve,’ Sam chuckled.
Jean smiled as well. Grace worked in the À La Mode Gown Salon of the big store as a junior salesgirl and she often entertained her family over tea with tales of the well-to-do women who went there to buy their clothes.
‘Mum, did Auntie Vi say anything to you about this dance at the Tennis Club that Bella wants me to go to?’ Grace leaned over to ask, her face bright with excitement.
‘She did, love. I wasn’t sure that you’d want to go.’
‘Of course I do. Bella was telling me all about it. It sounds lovely. She says she’s going to ask Auntie Vi to buy her a new dress. She’s seen the one she wants. It’s pale blue silk embroidered with white marguerites.’
Some of the brightness faded from her face, and Jean knew exactly what she was thinking. Her heart ached for her daughter, who was never likely to own anything as expensive as a silk frock, never mind have a new one every time she felt like it.
‘Well, I dare say we can make up a new sash for your polished cotton, love. Suits you a treat, it does, and you’ve got the advantage over Bella, you being that bit taller and having such a lovely neat waist.’
The little boy in front of them in the queue dropped his ice-cream cornet and started to cry bitterly, whilst his mother, who looked harassed and was clutching both their gas masks, tried to calm him. His noisy tears brought an end to any private conversation. Luke disappeared, only to reappear five minutes later carrying three cornets, one of which he gave to the delighted child and the other two to the twins.
‘You’re just as soft as your dad,’ Jean mock-scolded him, after the child’s mother had thanked him profusely for his generosity, and explained, ‘I thought I’d give him a bit of a treat, like, with a day at the seaside, what with me being told that he’d have to be evacuated if there’s a war, and his dad already away in the army, but it’s bin a long day for him and he’s got himself a bit overtired.’
‘It’s only an ice cream, and the poor little chap had only had a couple of licks of it,’ Luke answered his mother now, before turning to his father. ‘Dad, Charlie was saying that he’s joined the TA because he reckons that it means he won’t have to go away to do his six months’ training. He was showing me his uniform.’ There was a note of envy in his voice. ‘I reckon that if I were to join them—’
‘You’ll do no such thing,’ Sam stopped him sharply. ‘The TA lot will be the first in if it does come to war.’
‘Charlie reckons they’ll be posted to home duties.’
‘Aye, well, he would reckon that, him and that father of his being the clever sods they are.’
‘Sam,’ Jean objected, ‘language!’
‘Sorry, love, but it gets my goat, it really does, the way that ruddy Edwin reckons to be such a know-it-all. I’m your father, Luke, and it’s me you listen to. We’ve been through all of this already. If there’s to be a war then you can do your bit just as well here at home with the Salvage Corps, aye, and you’ll have a decent job wi’ it if there isn’t a war. There’s no sense in rushing off joining summat like the TA.’
Jean listened anxiously. This wasn’t the first time that father and son had clashed over the issue of Luke joining up for active service should there be a war. Like any mother she desperately wanted to keep her son safe.
The Royal Daffodil was pulling away from the dock full of passengers and with any luck they would be on the next ferry to leave.
Jean hoped so. It had been a long day, and now she was tired and ready for her own home, and a nice cup of tea and a slice of bread and butter.
TWO
Tuesday 22 August
Grace hummed happily under her breath as she and the other girls working in Lewis’s exclusive À La Mode Gown Salon got their department ready for the store to open, the Tuesday after the family’s visit to Wallasey.
The gowns were kept in the long row of floor-to-ceiling cupboards that filled one wall of that area of the store. The entrance to the Gown Salon was framed by silk curtains, and the carpet was thicker and a different pattern from that on the rest of the floor. All the girls working in the Gown Salon were expected to dress appropriately and were allowed to buy at a special discount the white silk blouses they all wore with their plain black skirts.
On very special occasions and for very special would-be purchasers the curtains framing the entrance could be closed. Three velvet upholstered and extremely uncomfortable chaise-longues were provided for customers, in addition to two large cheval mirrors.
It wasn’t unheard of for naughty schoolchildren with nothing better to do to try to peep round the curtaining to watch customers parading in front of the mirrors in the gowns they were trying on, although the head of the salon, Mrs James, was very swift to ensure that they were given stern warnings and shooed away.
On one never-to-be-forgotten occasion, Grace had actually found her own twin sisters concealed behind the curtains, their presence given away by their familiar giggles as they tried to demonstrate to one another the ‘walk’ of a particularly demanding client who had been trying on gowns. Luckily Grace had spotted them before anyone else, and even more luckily she’d ensured that the lollipops they had been sucking did not end up stuck to the heavy curtains.
Just thinking about that incident now made her smile and shake her head.
‘You’re in a good mood this morning,’ Susan Locke, another salesgirl, commented as she came hurrying in, looking over her shoulder to check that she couldn’t be overheard before she added, ‘Thank heavens Ma James isn’t here yet to dock me wages for being late.’
‘She said on Friday that she’d have to see a dentist. She’s been having really bad toothache,’ Grace told her.
‘That explains why she was in such a bad mood all day Saturday, when you was having your day off, you lucky thing.’ Susan pulled a face. ‘I hate having Monday for me day off like I had this week. Listen, do you fancy coming out for a bite of dinner wi’ me today?’
‘I’d love to but I can’t. I’ve got to go down to haberdashery and see if I can find a bit of something to make a sash to freshen up me polished-cotton frock, only I’ve been invited by my cousin to the Tennis Club dance in Wallasey at the weekend.’
‘You can’t wear a cotton frock to a posh tennis club dance,’ Susan told her knowledgeably. ‘I’ve served some of them wot’s come in here looking for frocks for that kind of thing and they allus go for summat fancy and silk. In fact, I know exactly what you should wear. That green silk you was modelling for that chap wot came in the other week. Suited you a treat, it did, and he certainly thought so as well.’ She gave Grace a meaningful look. ‘If you ask me, that tale he gave about wanting to see it on you on account of him wanting to buy it for his sweetheart and you looking like you was the same size as her was all so much malarkey. We used to get one chap coming in here that regular with that kind of tale, you could set your watch by him. Allus came in when the new stock arrived, he did, and wanted to have us try on them frocks what had the lowest necklines. Ma James used to have him out of the salon as quick as a flash if she was here when he came in. He had me trying on this red crepe one Christmas. Came up to me and patted me on the backside, he did, when no one was looking. Aye, and peered down me front as well. Dirty bugger.’
Grace laughed.
‘Listen, I meant what I said earlier about you borrowing that green silk frock,’ Susan told Grace in a hushed voice later in the morning when they were in the small room at the back of the salon where the girls had their tea breaks and ironed the gowns. ‘You wouldn’t be the first to do it by a long chalk. Borrowed one meself the Christmas before last, I did, when the chap I was seeing then wanted to take me to his office do. There was one girl even borrowed her wedding frock and no one the wi
ser.’
‘I couldn’t do that,’ Grace protested, firmly refusing to be tempted by the memory of how perfectly the green silk had fitted her and how wonderful she had felt in it.
Her parents would have been horrified and shocked by Susan’s suggestion, deeming it dishonest.
‘Why not? It’s not like it’s stealing or anything,’ insisted Susan. ‘You just take it wi’ you when you leave on Saturday after work and bring it back on Monday. Perk of the job, if you was to ask me, but if you don’t mind going to a posh do looking daft in a cotton frock and having all them other girls there laughing at you then that’s your funeral, isn’t it, especially wi’ all them frocks just hanging there doin’ nowt. That green silk could have been made for you, Grace. Fitted you like a glove, it did, and there’s not many would have the waist for it, nor the colouring. Mind you, I have to say that I’m surprised that cousin of yours would invite you to a posh do like that, from what I know of her.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ Grace demanded uncertainly.
‘Well, when she’s bin in here wi’ her mother she’s been all hoity-toity and keen to let us know how much better than us she is, hasn’t she? I must say I was surprised when you first introduced her as your cousin, you being such a decent ordinary sort and her being so full of herself.’
Susan’s comment made Grace feel too uncomfortable to respond. It was true that there had been times, especially since they had grown up, when Bella had made her feel that she considered Grace’s side of the family to be inferior to her own, but Grace had always dismissed this as Bella simply not understanding how hurtful she was being and not really meaning any harm. In fact, it was because of this attitude on the part of her cousin that she had been so pleased when Bella had invited her to the dance. Family meant a lot to Grace and she wanted to get on with her cousins and be close to them.
It was St John Ambulance tonight and, as always, the thought of going to her first-aid class delighted her. As a little girl Grace had dreamed of becoming a nurse but the training to become a proper nurse, at a teaching hospital like Liverpool’s Mill Road or the Royal, rather than merely working at one of the infirmaries that took on girls to care for the long-term ill, was costly and lengthy, with the uniform costing twenty-one pounds up front and a probationer nurse’s wages only eighteen shillings a week for the first year. It would also have meant her having to live in at a nurses’ home, so she wouldn’t have been able to help out at home with her wages or an extra pair of hands, and so she had felt it her duty to take the job at Lewis’s, for which a kind neighbour whose cousin worked there had put her forward.
It was gone six o’clock before her work was finally over for the day and she was free to leave. The warmth of the still sunny August evening made her feel that she would rather walk home than sit on a bus, even though that would take her a good half-hour.
Their house was the end one of a terrace, which meant that there was a side passage that led to the gardens at the rear of the houses, and as Grace opened the gate into their own garden she heard her mother calling out from the kitchen.
‘Is that you, Grace, love?’
‘Yes, Mum.’ Grace went to join her.
‘Just look at these cups,’ her mother told her, gesturing towards the solid-looking plain pottery cups she was drying. ‘I know it’s daft but I felt that envious of Vi’s lovely china when we were there. Proper bone china it is too, and so pretty. It reminded me of a little doll’s tea set we used to play with when we were kiddies. It belonged to our nan’s sister, our great-aunt Florence. She kept in it a corner cupboard in her front parlour and she’d let us play with it when we went to visit her. I can’t tell you how badly I wanted that tea set, Grace.’
Jean laughed. ‘Of course, Vi wanted it as well and there were some fair words said between us as to who should have it. In the end it went to Great-aunt Florence’s own granddaughter. Of course, now Vi can afford to have proper china of her own.’
Grace frowned as her mother gave another small sigh. Personally she had thought her auntie Vi’s china nothing to get excited about but she could see that her mother felt differently.
‘I can’t see Dad and Luke being happy with them fiddly little handles,’ she pointed out.
Jean laughed again. ‘No. And that’s exactly what I told myself as well. I’m just being daft, like I said. Even if I had the money I wouldn’t go wasting it on summat that would only end up broken.
‘Run down to the allotment, will you, love,’ she told Grace, changing the conversation, ‘and tell your dad to bring up another lettuce, and some tomatoes? I want to use up the rest of this beef and we might as well have it cold with it being such a warm evening.’
The allotments weren’t very far away and, as Grace had expected, when she got there she found her father deep in conversation with several of the other men, all of them looking serious enough for her to hesitate about interrupting. But on the other hand Mum wouldn’t be too pleased either if they didn’t get back soon, and with the lettuce and tomatoes she had asked for.
Whilst she stood there undecided her father looked up and saw her. Saying something to the other men, he came over to her.
‘Mum sent me down to tell you that she wants a lettuce and some toms for tea, Dad. Is everything all right?’ she asked him as she walked with him towards his plot. ‘Only it looked like you were all talking about something serious.’
Grace knew she was lucky to be part of a family in which her parents encouraged their children to talk to them rather than one that observed the traditional ‘children should be seen and not heard and speak only when they were spoken to’ rule. Since all the talk of war had started, her mother and father had included her and Luke in their discussions about what was going on. But even so, there was something in her father’s expression now that made Grace wonder if she had perhaps overstepped the mark.
‘I’m sorry if I shouldn’t have asked,’ she began, only to see her father shake his head and put his arm around her shoulders in a rare gesture of fatherly affection.
‘It’s all right, lass, you’ve done nowt wrong. It’s just that there’s bin a bit of news that’s teken folk a bit aback, and we were just discussing it.’
‘What kind of news?’ Grace asked, assuming he was going to tell her about yet another new instruction from the Government.
‘Seemingly Russia has announced that it’s entering a non-aggression pact with Germany, and we all know what that means,’ he told her heavily.
For a minute Grace was too shocked to say anything. Her throat had gone dry and her heart was pounding.
‘That means war, doesn’t it?’ she managed to ask eventually.
Her father nodded sombrely. ‘It looks pretty much like it. Now, do you think your mum will want a few radishes as well?’
Grace recognised that her father did not want to continue to discuss the shocking news.
War! Was it her imagination or as they walked back home together was there really a brassy tinge to the evening sky and a brooding sulphurous prescience of what was to come?
‘My brother reckons that we’ll be at war before the month’s out, and he says that his unit have been put on standby alert ready,’ Lucy, one of the other first aiders, was telling everyone importantly when Grace arrived at the St John Ambulance Brigade station at the local church hall for their regular Tuesday evening meeting. Originally when Grace had joined the St John Ambulance Brigade, like all the other young cadet members, her ‘responsibilities’ had included running errands and doing other jobs for local elderly people, and generally making herself useful. Grace still called to see Miss Higgins, a spinster in her late seventies who lived in the next street, knowing that as well as liking having someone to run her errands, the elderly lady enjoyed the opportunity to talk about her youth and to gossip about her neighbours.
Now, as a fully qualified first aider, Grace got to wear a navy-blue drill overall and an armband printed with the words ‘First Aid’, in addition to
being issued with a steel helmet, but tonight it was so warm that she had removed the helmet whilst she and the girl partnering her prepared their ‘patient’ for her ambulance journey to hospital, having been on hand when she was ‘rescued from a bombing incident’.
A splint secured the patient’s leg, and several bandages had been applied to her torso. Moving the deliberately unhelpfully inert body of their patient in the heat of the enclosed space of the church hall had left Grace’s face flushed and damp, and now she sat back a little anxiously on her heels, awaiting the inspection of her work by one of the senior nurses from Mill Road Hospital, who had volunteered to come to teach the volunteers all the basics of first aiding.
Sister Harris’s approving ‘very nice Campion’ had Grace’s face glowing for a far more satisfactory reason than the heat of the church hall.
‘I hate this bit,’ her partner groaned when, their work inspected and passed, they set to carefully removing and rewinding the bandages. ‘Do you think it’s true, like Lucy says, that it’s going to be war now, Grace?’ she asked worriedly.
‘I hope not, Alice,’ was all Grace could say, but she couldn’t help dwelling on the concern she had seen in her parents’ eyes over tea and her father’s keenness to listen to the BBC news, and the heaviness she had heard in her father’s voice earlier when he had told her about the developments in Russia.
‘If there is then I don’t know about you but I’m going to make sure I do my bit. I’ve got a cousin who’s thinking of joining the WRNS and I’m considering going along with her. They’ve got the best uniform of the lot, she reckons, and she should know, her dad being in the navy. You’ve got a brother, haven’t you? What service is he going for?’
‘Luke’s going into the Salvage Corps, like our dad,’ Grace told her automatically and then flushed. There was something in the other girl’s expression that made her feel defensive and protective on her brother’s behalf, although Alice hadn’t come out and said anything.
