Rose shook her head in despair. She’d noticed lately that Lily wasn’t the life and soul of the party the way she used to be. No doubt this was down to the sad loss of her mother. ‘But we’re having a good time tonight, aren’t we? And you always seem so cheerful when we’re serving the customers? You’ve been out a few times with the soldiers we’ve met. As for Anya being a spy, we have enough strange people living at Sea View as it is. That Mr Cardew fair gives me the creeps, the way he moves around at night. I can hear the floorboards creak while I’m in my bed.’
Lily reached for her cigarettes and lit one, not thinking to offer them again to Rose. She was too caught up in her own thoughts to respond to her friend’s comments about Mr Cardew. ‘If I don’t smile at the customers at work, I get told off. It’s a fine line between being friendly and being over-friendly at Lyons.’
Rose knew instantly what Lily was referring to. ‘I think chatting to those army chaps was seen to be over-friendly by Miss Butterworth. A smile is one thing, but perching your backside on their table and sharing a risqué joke was taking things a bit too far.’
‘I didn’t mean anything by it. Blimey, there wasn’t even time for one of them to ask me out before Miss Butterworth came running over! Then she blamed me for them walking out without paying for their meal. It wasn’t my fault they called her Miss Prissy Knickers, was it?’
Rose felt her face twitch as she tried not to smile. Lily was her own worst enemy at times. ‘Anyway, we’re having a nice time this evening, aren’t we?’ she said brightly.
Lily drew deeply on her cigarette and blew smoke circles into the air. ‘If you say so. But cycling to a dance hall with the snow blowing in our faces and then paying for our own tickets isn’t exactly glamorous, is it? If those squaddies hadn’t stopped and given us a lift we’d have been in a right state by the time we got here.’
Rose knew Lily had a point, but now wasn’t the time to discuss such things. She hadn’t felt comfortable being hauled into the back of a lorry and having so many ‘helping hands’ assist her.
Out the corner of her eye, she could see the bandleader looking in her direction. She was needed on stage before too long and didn’t want to leave her friend in a bad mood. ‘Perhaps we could get the bus next time?’
‘I suppose so, or better still we could have some of those sailors pick us up. Katie could put a good word in for us,’ Lily said, looking to where Katie was standing with Jack’s arm protectively round her shoulders as they chatted to his mates.
‘I’m not sure Katie knows any other sailors. Are you forgetting she knew Jack before he joined the navy?’
Lily looked even glummer. ‘I wish I could just run away to London. At least I’d see some nightlife.’
‘Well, with no money or job you’d see the wrong kind of nightlife, and God knows what would happen to you then,’ Rose said, getting to her feet. ‘I’ve got to go – Silvano Caprice is waving at me to get over there and sing.’
Lily snorted with laughter. ‘You mean Sam Coggins with his trumpet? Everyone knows he’s made up some fancy name just so he sounds like an American bandleader. You want to watch him or he’ll get his wicked way, and then where will you be? I’ve heard too many stories about him for them not to be true. Just you watch yourself.’
‘Silvano or Sam, I don’t care. At least I get the chance to sing on a stage. You aren’t the only one who wants to enjoy herself,’ Rose snapped as she turned to push her way through the crowd on the dance floor. Everyone was trying to get closer to the stage, knowing it was time for the entertainment to start.
‘Ouch! Watch out,’ a male voice exclaimed as Rose stumbled against a soldier and tried not to tread on his toes without success. He caught her as she lost her footing, and for just a few seconds he held her securely until she’d righted herself.
‘I’m sorry,’ she apologized, trying to move on. She could hear the first few strains of the melody.
‘It’s no trouble, I’ll live,’ he said in a rich, well-spoken voice, causing her to look up into the deepest steel-grey eyes she’d ever seen in a man.
‘I . . . er,’ she started to say, stumbling over her words. For some reason she couldn’t quite catch her breath. The warmth of his hands on her arms was all she could concentrate on, apart from those eyes. ‘I’ve got to go. The bandleader’s waiting for me,’ she apologized.
On stage, Silvano was announcing that a Ruby Norris was about to sing. Rose pulled away and pushed her way to the stage, hurrying up the few steps to stand in front of the band. Silvano gave her a hard stare before nodding to the band and raising his trumpet to his lips. She’d cut it fine, getting to the stage only just before her part of the song began. As the notes from the trumpet faded away she started to sing, her sweet voice soaring over the crowd of dancers, who stopped to watch and listen.
‘You made me love you . . .’ Rose put her heart and soul into the song as she’d never done before. Each word resonated through her body. She could drift away on the lyrics: in her mind she was no longer in Ramsgate, but singing in a posh London hotel. Or even on stage in America with a big band accompanying her, like she’d seen so many times in the movies. When it was Silvano’s turn to play a refrain, she closed her eyes and dreamt of those few moments when the soldier had held her captive. As she started to sing once more her eyes scanned the room for him, but she couldn’t see him amongst the sea of uniforms. ‘You know you made me love you . . .’ she pleaded into the audience as she sung the last few words of the song. Could she fall in love that quickly, was it possible?
To thunderous applause, Rose started to leave the stage, but she was caught by Silvano behind the curtains that led to the steps down to the dance floor. ‘Not so quick,’ he said, grabbing her roughly around the waist. ‘I thought me and you could go for a drink later? I’ve got a good bottle of whisky back at my place. We could share it . . .’
Rose flinched. There had been rumours about Silvano and the women he chased going all the way back to their schooldays. To say he would love them and leave them was an understatement. ‘I’d rather not, if you don’t mind. Unless you want me to sing again tonight, I’ll go back to my friend,’ she said, pulling away.
‘Be friendlier, Rose, and you can sing your pretty little heart out,’ he said, pulling her closer.
Rose snorted with laughter and pushed him away. ‘My friends are waiting for me,’ she said firmly, trying not to let him see how he made her skin crawl.
Silvano shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ll stop asking one day, and then you’ll be sorry,’ he called to her departing back.
She ignored his words and headed back to the table, where Katie and her fiancé had joined them along with a couple of Jack’s sailor buddies. They all congratulated her as she sat down and took a sip from her glass.
‘Blimey, girl, you was good tonight, even if everyone thinks your name is Ruby.’ Lily patted her on the back, her earlier grumpy mood forgotten. ‘Anyone would think you was singing to just one bloke in the audience.’
Rose chuckled. Was it that obvious, she wondered? ‘Silvano is playing well this evening, and it helped me get into the mood of the song,’ she said.
Lily laughed. They’d all known Silvano since they were at school, and she couldn’t get used to his stage name. However much she tried, he would always be Sam Coggins to her. ‘He ain’t no Harry James, but he can play a trumpet OK,’ she begrudgingly acknowledged.
Rose wasn’t listening. She was still replaying those few moments after bumping into the soldier with the steel-grey eyes.
Rose was aware of Miss Butterworth glaring at her back as she slipped off her coat and went to the tiny staffroom mirror, which hung from a piece of old bootlace on the wall of the little room. She pinned her white cap in place and checked for stray hairs, then looked down to make sure her shoes were not scuffed and a ladder had not mysteriously appeared in her black stockings. She was trying to breathe deeply as she awaited the telling-off she knew was coming. She didn’t have t
o wait long.
‘Miss Neville, I believe you wore your uniform home yet again. What do you have to say about this?’
Rose gave a big sigh and turned with the brightest smile she could muster. Inside she was seething. The old battle-axe was picking on her yet again. ‘I needed to stitch a couple of buttons that had come loose,’ she replied, crossing her fingers behind her back. She hated to lie, but sometimes there was just no way out of it.
Miss Butterworth thought for a moment, looking Rose up and down as she did so. ‘Are you sure you haven’t shortened your uniform as well? Come to my office at once so I can measure the length,’ she added, turning round and marching swiftly from the room.
Rose followed obediently, knowing that to argue would have been futile. Without blowing her own trumpet, she knew she was good at her job and got on well with the customers. Miss Butterworth also knew that, and there lay the bone of contention. Clarice Butterworth should have retired long ago, but with war looming, the area manager had requested she stay on in her job and be promoted to oversee the teashop staff. So many of the male managers were either being called up, or were keen to do their bit for King and Country and were volunteering for the services. Before her promotion Miss Butterworth had served in the kitchen area, and it was only by length of service that she had beaten Rose to the job of manageress. She was more than aware that Rose would be a popular choice for manageress amongst the staff.
‘Stand still,’ she commanded as Rose wriggled to pull the drop-waisted black dress down as much as possible, muttering that it had shrunk in the wash. Miss Butterworth held a wooden ruler from the hemline to the floor.
‘It’s as I thought. This dress has been turned up. Do you have no shame?’ she sneered, only inches from Rose’s face. ‘Lyons is a respectable company, and will not have its female staff behaving like harlots while working under their roof. Take a spare dress from the storeroom and change your clothes this instant. You will have to work late to make up for your time, and you will also let down that hem in your own time and bring it back to show me first thing tomorrow morning. Now, hurry along.’
Rose bit her lip to stop herself answering back as she hurried from the room. She’d not altered her dress, and Miss Butterworth would have seen as much when she looked at the sewing-machine stitching around the hem. Rose’s hand stitching left a lot to be desired, and it would have been obvious to Miss Butterworth when her nose was so close to the fabric.
Rose had planned to go to the picture house with Lily this evening to see Jamaica Inn – she had longed to see the film ever since she’d read the book. She knew she’d be late now. She would have to tell her friend not to wait for her after work, so she hung about close to the office door, as Lily would be passing by with food for the tables on her workstation.
As she lingered she could hear murmured conversation from inside the room, where a younger Nippy had gone in as Rose came out. Suddenly the door opened again and the girl came rushing out in floods of tears, heading for the staffroom. Rose hurried after her, not wishing to see anyone in such distress.
‘Whatever has upset you so?’ she asked as she caught up.
‘Miss Butterworth told me I was the worst Nippy she had ever seen. She told me I was scruffy and no good at my job,’ the girl said, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief.
Rose frowned. ‘It’s Clara, isn’t it?’ she asked, looking at the girl hunched up against the table.
‘Yes. I started last month. I didn’t think I was that bad at my job. I’ve not dropped one plate this week so far.’
Rose gave a little chuckle. It was a new Nippy’s worst fear to break a plate. ‘No, you’re not a bad Nippy at all. Why, from what I heard, you passed your training course with flying colours.’ And there lies the problem, she thought. Clarice Butterworth was down on any staff member who might possibly do better than herself.
‘I did do rather well. I worked really hard, because I wanted this job so badly,’ Clara said with a watery smile. ‘She also said I’d stitched a button on wrong,’ she added, looking down at her uniform with its neat row of buttons down the front.
Rose could see the problem at once. ‘Ah, you’ve used white thread instead of red. Lyons are particular about the style of our uniforms, and as silly as it may seem, we have to use red thread to attach the white buttons to our black dresses.’
The girls both laughed together as Rose pulled open a drawer under the table. ‘Here – we keep some needles threaded with red cotton for emergencies. There’s also some black darning thread in case we snag our stockings. A few quick stitches will carry us through our shift, so we don’t get told off. Let’s sort out that button now, shall we?’
Rose quickly removed the offending button and reattached it while the young Nippy gave grateful thanks. ‘Now, run along to your workstation before you get told off again. If you become upset at all, you can speak to me anytime.’
‘Thank you, Rose,’ Clara said, and hurried from the room.
Rose tidied up the sewing threads and went to follow. She was pulled up short by the sight of the area manager, Mr Grant, standing by the door looking thoughtful. ‘Sorry, sir – I’ll get back to my workstation at once.’
‘Not so fast, Miss Neville. Do you often help out the younger staff?’
Rose took a deep breath. No doubt this was where she got in trouble for not serving her customers. ‘It took no time at all, sir, and the poor girl was upset. She’ll be fine now. I had just come from Miss Butterworth’s office myself, so was close by.’
He frowned. ‘Why would you be seeing Miss Butterworth?’
‘She’d noticed the hem of my waitress dress was the wrong length. I have to stay after work to correct it,’ Rose explained, trying hard not to make it look as though she was telling tales out of school.
‘Your hem looks perfectly fine to me,’ he said, looking stern. ‘Perhaps Miss Butterworth was mistaken on this occasion. I take it you had plans for this evening?’
Rose was puzzled by his question. ‘Yes, sir, I was meant to be attending the picture house with my friend to see Jamaica Inn.’
‘Then you leave your shift at the right time, and enjoy your evening. I took my wife to see the film the other night and it was most splendid. I’m sure you will enjoy it.’
‘Thank you, sir – but Miss Butt—’
‘You leave Miss Butterworth to me, Miss Neville. Now run along to your workstation – and well done for helping that young lady. Most commendable.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Rose whispered, and hurried from the staffroom.
‘There you are,’ Katie hissed as Rose bumped into her friend in the seating area of the teashop. ‘We’ve had a bit of a rush on, and I’m doing my best to cover your tables as well as my own. Where have you been?’ she asked as she cleared a nearby table that had just been vacated by two women laden down with shopping bags.
‘The old trout caught me. I swear she’s got it in for me.’
Katie was sympathetic. ‘Do try to keep on her good side. I heard she might be leaving us soon. Her sister is poorly and has no one to care for her.’
‘It can’t come quick enough as far as I’m concerned,’ Rose said, wiping the table with a cloth and helping Katie to lay out fresh cutlery. ‘She’s had it in for me ever since she was promoted – doesn’t miss a chance to put me down or make me work late. I really don’t know why.’
‘She knows she got the job because of her age rather than her ability to serve customers, and she’s noticed that you’re good with the staff and customers. Just bide your time. It’ll all come out in the wash.’ Katie gave Rose’s arm a friendly squeeze before lifting the heavy tray to take back to the kitchen. ‘Oh, there’s someone wanting a word with you over there. I sat him at one of your tables and mentioned he might have to wait,’ she added with a grin.
Rose’s heart skipped a beat. Perhaps it would be the handsome army captain with the gorgeous grey eyes. She knew he didn’t know her name, let alone where she worked, but it di
dn’t stop her dreaming. Straightening her cap and rubbing the toe of each black shoe in turn on the back of her legs to remove any dust, she pinned on her best smile and headed towards her section of tables. They were set behind a marble-effect pillar and a large brass pot holding an enormous fern. There was already a couple waiting to be served, with the man tapping his fingers on the table in an impatient manner. Rose quickly took their order, discussing what was available from the tariff card. Although the war had already brought food shortages, thankfully restaurants were still unaffected, so there was a good selection for Lyons customers. After quickly taking their order to the counter, Rose hurried back to her section of the tearoom.
Through the fronds of the fern she could see a gentleman’s back – and he was wearing the jacket of an army officer. Could it possibly be her mysterious captain? Nodding to a man who had just been seated to indicate she had seen him, she circumnavigated the large potted plant and stopped dead in her tracks as she recognized the officer. ‘Oh, hello, Silvano. What are you doing here – and why are you in uniform?’ she asked, as she felt her heart sink into her shoes.
‘Sit yourself down. I have something to say to you,’ he said, indicating the chair opposite.
‘I’m at work, if you hadn’t noticed,’ she hissed. ‘Apart from which, I really don’t have a thing to say to you after the way you acted the other night.’
‘Come on, love; I thought you liked me enough to spare a few minutes of your precious time. I’ve got something important to put to you.’
Rose looked over to where Miss Butterworth was now presiding over the cash register. The small desk set on a raised plinth meant her boss’s beady eyes didn’t miss much that went on in the teashop. She was admonishing Lily over something, so had her attention away from the other Nippies busy working at their assigned tables.
‘Hurry up and say what you’ve got to say. I could get the sack if I’m not careful,’ Rose hissed, sliding into a seat opposite Silvano. ‘I’m hoping you will start with an apology, followed by an explanation as to why you’re in that get-up. You know it’s an offence to impersonate an officer. But knowing you, you’d impersonate Adolf to get attention.’
The Teashop Girls Page 4
