The Reluctant Sinner

by June Tate

  ‘Thanks, that would be nice.’ He didn’t say anything while she made it, but once she sat down and poured the tea, he spoke.

  ‘I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,’ he started, ‘and I’m sorry I flew off the handle the other day, but I was so shocked by what you told me.’

  Daisy gazed at him, irritated by the pompous tone in his voice.

  ‘And I do understand the need for the extra money, but I’m sure your father wouldn’t want you to earn it in such a place.’

  She felt the anger flare within her. ‘How dare you decide what my father thinks? What right have you to sit there and say such a thing?’

  ‘Because I think you are in moral danger working there with those women.’

  ‘What do you mean, those women?’

  ‘Well I mean to say, they are without morals, earning their money the way that they do. No decent woman would sell her body.’

  ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack Weston! All the girls working in the Solent Club are very nice; they all have their reasons to be there. They’re not sluts you know.’

  He laughed derisively. ‘Of course they are.’

  ‘I won’t have you say such a thing; they’re working girls, making a living like anyone else.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Daisy, they’re prostitutes!’

  ‘And what would you call the men who come in and pay for their services then? Because without them and their demands, there would be no need for the girls to work.’

  ‘Men will be men, Daisy.’

  ‘So it’s all right for them, but not the women? That really is so hypocritical. Double standards I think they call it. Anyway have you ever been to such a place?’

  ‘Good God, no!’

  ‘Then you are not in any position to judge. You’re like all the rest; you make judgements of things you know nothing about.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right, but I don’t want you working there any longer.’

  She was absolutely livid. ‘You can’t tell me what to do!’

  He glared at her. ‘If we are to continue courting, you’ll have to leave. Imagine what my family and friends would say if they found out about you.’

  Daisy placed a hand on her heart and with a feigned outraged air said, ‘Oh the scandal of it all!’

  ‘It’s not funny, Daisy!’

  ‘No it definitely is not! My father needs that bed and you are asking me to choose between the two of you.’ She glowered at him. ‘Well you lose, Jack. My father comes first and if you can’t live with that, you’d better leave now.’

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ he asked as he rose to his feet.

  ‘Get on, get out – and don’t bloody well come back!’

  He took one look at her and seeing the anger in her eyes, let himself out of the house.

  Daisy sat, fuming. She just could not understand his attitude. How could anyone who loved her ask her to give up her work? Not at a time like this. Not knowing the situation. How could he put what others would think first, before her dying father?

  At that moment Vera arrived home from the hospital. Taking off her coat she said, ‘Not out with Jack today then?’

  ‘He just called round, Mum, but I want to finish my work. How was Dad?’

  ‘Much the same, but he has a better colour in his cheeks and he seems to be eating a little more.’

  ‘Sit down, Mum. I’ll make you a cup of tea. You look frozen.’

  ‘There’s a bitter wind out today,’ her mother said, and she warmed her hands by the fire.

  There was a bitter wind in here too, thought Daisy, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

  There was another stormy atmosphere in the living room of the White Swan as Bertha, Jim Grant’s wife, let off steam as she waved a bill at him.

  ‘What are you doing paying for a dress to be made for bloody Flo Cummings?’ she demanded.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ he asked, playing for time.

  ‘It says here. Madam Evans, one dress for Mrs Florence Cummings. Fifteen guineas!’

  ‘It was a birthday present,’ he said.

  ‘Fifteen bloody guineas! That’s more than you ever paid for any birthday present for me.’

  ‘Now come on, Bertha, let’s not pretend. You’ve known about me and Flo for years. We have an understanding you and I, so why the sudden aggro?’

  ‘Fifteen guineas is why!’

  ‘I’d have done the same for you if you had the same interest in your appearance as Flo has.’

  This silenced Bertha Grant for the moment. It was true, she’d let herself go over the years. She worked hard in the bar and looking after Jim and the household too, but this stuck in her craw. Well she would take herself off to Madam Evans and order some new clothes too. Let her old man pay for that bill and see how he liked it. She stomped out of the room.

  Grant scratched his head. Bloody women! He was lucky he supposed. His wife wasn’t that interested in sex and she’d been relieved when he took a mistress because that meant he turned to her for sexual satisfaction less and less. He had made it plain that he was happy to stay married to Bertha as long as she understood that he needed Flo.

  Bertha liked being the landlady of the White Swan and the security of a husband so she’d turned a blind eye as long as Flo didn’t come into the pub. That was her territory and she wouldn’t have Flo Cummings walk on her home ground. But today, faced with the bill for so much money, she suddenly became possessive … and jealous. Well, Jim would have to pay dearly for his peccadillo.

  Later that day, the door of the dress shop in London Road opened and Madam greeted her new client. ‘Good afternoon, Madam, can I be of service?’

  Bertha Grant smiled with satisfaction and said, ‘Yes. I need several new garments and I would like to look at some patterns and material.’

  Some time later, Daisy was called to the front of the shop to measure a new client. ‘A Mrs Grant. Landlady of the White Swan in Oxford Street,’ she was told.

  This intrigued Daisy, knowing that Flo was the mistress of this woman’s husband. Picking up her tape measure, pad and pencil she walked into the reception area.

  As she took the measurements, she wondered why the woman seemed so hostile. She was very abrupt when she spoke, not that she was rude to Daisy, she wasn’t, but something had obviously upset her. It wasn’t long before Daisy understood.

  ‘I believe you make garments for a Mrs Florence Cummings.’

  Daisy knew she would have to be diplomatic. ‘Yes, Madam, I believe we do.’

  ‘Does she have many made?’

  Taking a deep breath, Daisy said, ‘I couldn’t really say. In any case we are not allowed to discuss our clients, Madam forbids it. All transactions are absolutely confidential.’

  ‘Quite right too!’ the woman snapped.

  Daisy thought that wasn’t really what she meant, but at least she was spared any cross-questioning as she carried out her work. The order when she’d finished was for two day dresses, an evening blouse and skirt and a short jacket. The bill was hefty as she’d chosen expensive material.

  When the total was told to Bertha, she gave a smile of satisfaction. ‘That’s excellent. When the garments are finished, send the bill to my husband. When shall I come back for my fittings?’

  Madam made several appointments, wrote them on a card and handed it to her.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Bertha. ‘I’m going to get a lot of enjoyment out of wearing these garments.’

  After Bertha had gone, Daisy returned to Madam and said, ‘We must make sure that Mrs Grant isn’t booked in at the same time as Mrs Cummings or they’ll be trouble.’

  ‘I know, I’ve just realized that. Oh dear why do men have to be so dreadful. I know all about Mrs Cummings but at least she doesn’t bring any of her business here and she spends a lot of money, but in all honesty I wish she’d go elsewhere. I don’t want to lose any of my better clients because of her reputation. It is a worry.’

  Daisy made no comm
ent and with a sinking feeling, hurried back to her workbench.

  Seven

  The girls in the workshop were kept very busy during the following week. There was so much work in hand and Daisy was pleased to be called out to do a fitting for Mrs Grace Portman.

  ‘How’s your father?’ Grace asked and listened as Daisy told her.

  ‘And the Captain?’ asked Daisy. ‘Have you heard from him since I last saw you?’

  Grace Portman shook her head. ‘He did warn me that mail would be difficult. Getting letters mailed from the front line isn’t easy, but I tell myself that no news is good news. I just wish there was something I could do to fill my time. I am involved with the nearby hospital, helping them where I’m able and of course the women in the village are knitting scarves and socks for the troops, but it doesn’t seem enough somehow.’

  Daisy just listened. She’d seen the troops marching to the docks of course. Southampton was an important military port, shipping troops out to France. From what she’d read in the papers, many thousands would never return, but she kept these thoughts to herself as she made alterations to the dress Grace was trying on.

  ‘I write to Hugh of course,’ Grace said. ‘He told me how much it means to the men to receive mail from home. It takes time for it to be delivered and sometimes several letters arrive all together.’

  ‘At least when they do arrive, that will give your husband and his men something to cling to,’ Daisy said, not knowing what to say to comfort her client.

  Grace had a similar conversation that evening when Giles Bentley, a neighbouring farmer, called on her. He had been friends of the family since childhood. He and Hugh had played together and Giles, like Hugh, had taken over the running of the farm and the land that went with it, allowing their fathers to retire.

  Grace and he sat by the fire with after-dinner drinks, talking about the war. Giles had escaped the call-up as he suffered with a loss of hearing in one ear, sustained in childhood.

  ‘I must say, Grace my dear, I admire the way you’ve buckled down and run the estate in the absence of your old man.’

  ‘I didn’t have any choice if I didn’t want the old battleaxe moving back in,’ she laughed.

  ‘The indomitable Clara,’ he said. ‘You deserve a medal just for standing up to her.’

  The evening lifted Grace’s spirits. Giles was such a lovely man she couldn’t understand how he remained single. They compared notes about the running of their property, and the prices of feed for the animals. It was good for Grace to have someone other than her estate manager to refer to, and she was grateful.

  That evening when Daisy went to visit her father, she thought he had deteriorated somewhat and spoke to the matron about his condition before she left.

  ‘It’s to be expected,’ the matron said. ‘There are more drugs we can use to keep him comfortable but of course they come at a cost.’

  ‘Please,’ said Daisy, ‘give him whatever he needs, and give me the bill for it. I want his last days spent in as much comfort as is possible.’

  As she walked home she was thankful that she was in a position to be able to help him. But the following morning, her position changed.

  As Daisy took her coat off in the staffroom at her place of employment Madam Evans came out of her office and said she wanted to talk to her. The coldness in her manner made Daisy nervous as she followed her employer.

  ‘Sit down,’ she was told. ‘Miss Gilbert, I have something to ask you and I want an honest answer.’

  ‘Of course, whatever is it?’

  ‘It has come to my attention that you are working in the evenings at the Solent Club as a barmaid. Is this correct?’

  Daisy’s heart sank. Jessie’s brother must have eventually recognized her. ‘Yes, Madam. I work there three nights a week.’

  The woman looked coldly at her. ‘Surely you are aware of the kind of establishment it is?’

  Daisy sat upright and staring the other woman in the eye said, ‘Oh yes, of course, but I need the extra money. My father has tuberculosis and is in a private nursing home.’

  The stern expression showed no sympathy. ‘Very commendable of you, I’m sure, but couldn’t you have found another situation?’

  ‘I confess I didn’t try. Mrs Cummings kindly offered me the job and quite frankly, Madam, I jumped at the chance!’

  ‘I see, and do you intend to continue working there?’

  ‘As long as Dad needs attention, yes.’

  ‘Then I’m afraid I will have to dispense with your services.’ Seeing the stricken look on Daisy’s face she added, ‘I’m sorry to have to do this as you are such a good seamstress, but I have my reputation to consider and if it became known that one of my girls was working in a brothel … well, it could lose me some of my clients.’

  ‘I see,’ murmured Daisy, who was panicking as to how she could now afford her father’s care.

  ‘I will give you an excellent reference. I think you deserve that at least.’

  ‘Thank you, Madam. When do you want me to leave?’

  ‘Now. Go and get your stuff from the workroom and come back and wait outside my office for your reference. Of course I won’t comment on the reason for you leaving. I’ll write it now and make up your wages.’

  Daisy rose from the chair in a daze. Outside the workroom, she took a deep breath, then opened the door. The chattering stopped and there was silence as Daisy went to her table and started to collect her things.

  Jessie was the first one to break the silence. ‘My brother couldn’t believe it was you in that place when he eventually realized who you were.’ She grinned slyly. ‘What’s it like there?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask your brother?’

  The other girls giggled. Agnes said, ‘I’m so sorry that Madam has done this to you, Daisy. I’ll really miss you.’ There was a muttering of agreement from the others.

  One angry voice called, ‘You rotten bitch, Jessie. Couldn’t keep your bloody mouth shut could you?’

  ‘Well you know how stuck-up Madam is. If it got out about Daisy, trade could drop and we’d all be out of a job.’

  ‘Don’t give me that,’ said the other seamstress, ‘you’re just a spiteful bitch. You couldn’t wait to tell her – nearly broke your neck doing it I shouldn’t reckon!’ The others murmured their agreement.

  Having gathered all her bits and pieces, Daisy looked up. ‘Goodbye, everyone,’ she said, fighting back the tears. And hurried to the door. Once she’d collected her reference, she walked outside the shop and leaned against the wall to recover from the shock. What on earth was she to do now? She had to find another job quickly to keep up the payments at the nursing home. As she walked down London Road she racked her brains trying to think of a solution. Perhaps Flo would let her work more evenings, perhaps a full week instead of three nights. The tips were good and with the extra wages she would still manage the bills. She would go and ask her.

  Daisy took a tram to Bernard Street and knocked on Flo’s door. It seemed an age that she stood waiting for an answer. She was just about to walk away when the front door opened. Flo stood there with tussled hair and her dressing gown wrapped around her.

  ‘I’m sorry if I woke you,’ Daisy said, ‘but could I have a word?’

  ‘Come in, Daisy. I’ll make a cup of tea for us both and then we can talk.’

  Flo made a pot of tea and as she poured it said, ‘Right, now what’s this all about?’

  Daisy told her of her predicament. About the boys coming into the club and how one, the brother of a colleague, had recognized her and the subsequent result.

  ‘Oh, love, I am sorry. That stuffy woman. She acts as if she never has to use the lavatory! I know she would rather do without my custom but she can’t afford to. Bitch!’

  ‘Could I come and work full-time behind the bar with Harry?’

  With a frown Flo said, ‘I’ll have to give this some thought. The weekends are when we are really busy you see. I don’t know if the earlier
part would warrant me having extra help behind the bar.’

  ‘Apart from the weekly bill, Dad needs extra medication now and I must find that extra money!’

  Flo looked at the worried face of the young girl and said, ‘Look, I’ll think about it and try and come up with an answer. Come to the club tomorrow evening and we’ll discuss it then. Now finish your tea, you look as if you need it.’

  Vera Gilbert looked up in surprise as Daisy walked into the house. ‘Whatever are you doing home at this time?’

  Daisy told her what had happened.

  Her mother gathered her into her arms and hugged her. ‘I am sorry, love. That spiteful Jessie. So what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m seeing Flo tomorrow night to see if I can work a full week. If not I’ll have to look elsewhere. I still have one or two private clients but at the moment I have only one who needs some work done. It’s not enough, Mum.’

  ‘Now you listen to me, Daisy love. You’ve been a good daughter to your dad, he’s had a break and if the worst comes to the worst, we’ll bring him home.’

  ‘But I don’t want to do that!’

  ‘I know, but we have to cut our cloth according to the width. If you can’t afford it you can’t!’

  ‘Well let’s wait and see what Flo has to say.’

  Flo Cummings was giving Daisy’s predicament a great deal of thought. The young girl had caused quite a stir among the male members and many of them desired her. Knowing of her innocence Flo was aware of the money that could pass hands if she could persuade her to work the other side of the bar. Although Flo was not without sympathy for Daisy’s predicament, she was a businesswoman who had come up the hard way. She knew, however, that Daisy would be horrified at the prospect, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. There was a lot of money to be made here. She would have a quiet word with Stella, her head girl, and get her to help persuade the girl.