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The Teashop Girls

Page 23

by Elaine Everest


  ‘Mildred, are there usually that many fishing boats on this stretch of water?’

  The two women joined her and watched as a row of small boats passed in convoy accompanied by navy vessels, all heading in the general direction of Ramsgate.

  ‘I need to be somewhere else,’ Mildred said as she threw the door key to Rose. ‘I’d been warned that me and my boat would be needed in the next couple of days. You can either stay here and catch the bus back to Margate, or perhaps I can drop you off at Katie’s place so you can tell her about the cottage – that’s if you want it?’

  Lily shrieked with laughter as she followed Mildred down the staircase. ‘Want it? Don’t talk daft. I’ve never wanted anything so much in all my life. I’ll never stop thanking you until the day I die.’

  Rose held back, watching as the endless stream of boats passed by. She recognized a few of the fishing vessels that frequented the harbour at Ramsgate. She’d known the boat owners since she was a child – and wasn’t that the pleasure steamer Kentish Queen? Ted Sayers and his daughter Gracie often stopped at Margate and Ramsgate, bringing trippers down from further up the Thames in north Kent. Something was going on here. She shivered as she watched until Lily called her to hurry up or she’d be left behind.

  13

  ‘Something is not right,’ Anya said as she threw her cardigan across the back of the kitchen chair and started to help put plates and cutlery on the kitchen table.

  ‘Have you not had a good day at work, dear?’ Miss Tibbs asked from where she sat in an old armchair in the corner of the room, knitting a balaclava helmet.

  ‘My work, it is good. I have never sold as much packets of tea in one day before. Some people they argue they want more, but I have to be strict and follow the law. No ration card, no tea!’ she said, waving a handful of forks into the air. ‘We all like our cuppa and I have to be fair. I will not be bribed.’

  Miss Tibbs’ eyes lit up. ‘Someone tried to bribe you?’

  ‘Yes, it was that horrid butcher man. He offered me sausages. I told him no thank you and his sausages are full of sawdust,’ she grimaced. ‘I had never heard such language. If Miss Rose had been in the teashop she would have sent him packing. In her absence I did the packing off of the butcher man,’ she said.

  ‘Well done, Anya. Joe Lyons has a loyal employee in you,’ Miss Tibbs said, continuing to knit.

  Flora carried a bowl of steaming cabbage and carrots to the table. ‘You say Rose wasn’t there?’ she asked, a worried expression crossing her face. ‘Is she all right?’

  ‘She is fine,’ Anya said. She wasn’t about to say she had a feeling something wasn’t right, as both Lily and Rose had disappeared for most of the afternoon and that wasn’t a common occurrence. She’d noticed a change in Lily as well, but did not say so. ‘They had an afternoon off – those two work hard,’ she added, knowing Flora would be proud even though she wouldn’t say so. She exchanged a look with Miss Tibbs. The two women had spent hours in Miss Tibbs’ room discussing how to get Rose and her mother back under the same roof to iron out their differences. So far they’d not had one good idea.

  Flora, who was happy with Anya’s reply, went back to the cooker and stirred a large saucepan. ‘Anya dear, would you call everyone down for dinner please? Joyce and Pearl are out until late this evening, so it’s just the two RAF men and the three of us. Then you can tell us what you think is not right,’ she added to the Polish woman’s back.

  Anya returned as Flora started to dish stew onto dinner plates. ‘They are on their way,’ she said, taking her place at the table. ‘That smells very good but only a little for me. They feed us well at the Lyons teashop.’

  ‘It’s only rabbit with lots of vegetables, but it’s filling,’ Flora said, wishing she could put more food on the table for her guests.

  ‘You feed us very well,’ Anya said, noticing Flora’s downcast face. ‘You should not worry so much.’

  ‘There seems so much to worry about these days,’ Flora replied, thinking of her daughter. Rose might be only a few miles away in Margate, but it might as well be the other side of the world, for the pair hadn’t met since the day Rose had found out about her real father. Flora wished she’d never kept her secret from Rose, as now it could be too late to heal the rift. ‘Come on in,’ Flora said, jerking herself out of her reverie as she spotted the two men standing awkwardly at the door.

  ‘Thank you, ma’am,’ said the taller of the two as he stepped forward to hold a chair for Miss Tibbs. Then they both sat down, taking their plates of food from Flora.

  ‘We have not met, as I have been at my work,’ Anya said formally.

  Flora made the necessary introductions and explained about the three absent residents. The men were impressed that a lady would be in ownership of a fishing boat.

  ‘Mildred is a remarkable woman. She does many jobs that we would usually expect men to undertake. I’m sure you will get on with her when you meet. I don’t know of anyone who hasn’t.’

  ‘Mildred told me she would be late,’ Miss Tibbs said as she absent-mindedly picked pieces of cabbage from the front of her cardigan. ‘She is going out in her boat.’

  Flora nodded her head. She was used to Miss Tibbs’ lapses of memory; sometimes she forgot a message completely, or shared it a day too late. ‘I’ll put a plate on top of her food and keep it warm in the oven. We may have fish tomorrow, if she is going out to sea.’

  ‘France,’ Miss Tibbs announced. ‘She said she was going to France. It may be best not to keep her food in the oven, as it will dry out. She told me when she popped in for her spare waterproofs.’

  ‘You’ve lost me,’ Flora said, looking bemused. ‘You say Mildred is going to France?’

  ‘It is possible,’ Anya said, putting down her knife and fork. ‘I told you something is not right. There are too many boats in the harbour for fishing. Surely they don’t all fish? There are also many sailors, and I found it hard to walk from the bus stop as there were people everywhere. Something is happening, I fear.’

  ‘I’ll walk down to the harbour after dinner and see what’s happening. Eat up, everyone – it looks as though there will be leftovers, as Mildred won’t be home. Now tell me, lads, do you fly planes? If you do, why aren’t you living on the base at Manston?’

  The two men looked at each other. ‘No, we are what you’d call the backroom boys,’ explained one, who had introduced himself as Ted. ‘I’m in the stores and Nobby here is good with numbers and such like, so he’s at a desk most of the time. With so many people needed, some of us volunteered to be billeted away from the airfield to make room for the pilots and ground crew.’

  ‘I reckon we fell on our feet coming here,’ Nobby butted in as Flora handed out dishes of steamed pudding and custard. ‘We’ll be sure to make extra contributions to the household. It’s only fair.’

  ‘There’s no need. I wouldn’t want anyone to get into trouble on my behalf. It’s just nice to have two men under our roof.’

  ‘Rather than a spy,’ Miss Tibbs muttered under her breath.

  Flora was surprised that Anya hadn’t asked if there were any Polish pilots at the airfield. Perhaps she needed a little help? ‘Do you have pilots of other nationalities at Manston?’ she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

  ‘I’m not sure we should be talking about what happens at the airfield,’ Nobby said. ‘You might all be spies.’ He laughed at his own joke.

  ‘I am Polish, not German,’ Anya said, giving him a stern look.

  ‘I’m sorry; I wasn’t meaning anything by it. I do know Polish people,’ he added, giving Anya a wary look.

  ‘You do?’ Flora said. ‘Do you know any Polish pilots?’ she asked, pouring more custard into his bowl.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Nobby said. ‘Where I work, I don’t get to see much of the pilots. They can be a little aloof as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘I’ve met a couple of them when I hand out spare uniforms,’ Ted said, covering his bowl with one hand to re
fuse more food from Flora. ‘Decent enough chaps. They’ve had a rough time, by all accounts.’

  ‘Do you happen to know one called Henio Polinski?’ Flora asked hopefully.

  Ted frowned for a moment as he thought. ‘The name doesn’t come to mind, but I can ask about. Who wants to know?’

  Anya rose to her feet and hurried over to the sink. She started to wash the plates, banging about so that she couldn’t hear the conversation. She was still unsure whether Henio would wish to know his wife was in England.

  ‘Thank you,’ Flora said to the two men. ‘It’s for a friend.’

  With her residents insisting on clearing away after their meal, Flora took her jacket and gas mask and headed out the door and down Madeira Walk towards the seafront. Anya was right. The place was buzzing with officious-looking sailors giving instructions to boat owners, while others passed out blankets and provisions. She spotted a friend from the WVS, and hurried over the road to find out what was going on.

  ‘My dear, it has been on the radio. Any civilian with a boat over a certain size has orders to report to points along the coast. It seems our men are trapped on the beaches over there and need rescuing,’ the woman said excitedly as she nodded somewhere out to sea in the direction of France. ‘By this time tomorrow there could be hundreds of soldiers coming ashore into our little town. Isn’t it thrilling? However, I do wish they’d let us get a little closer to the harbour wall so we can watch. It doesn’t seem right, keeping us residents behind these barriers.’

  Flora felt it was anything but thrilling. If what they were saying was true, then husbands, sons and fathers were in mortal danger not twenty miles away from where she stood. She gave a silent prayer as she watched the owners of so many small boats preparing to head across the Channel to bring loved ones safely back home.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Neville,’ a quiet voice said close to Flora’s side, pulling her from her prayers. ‘I think we are watching something very important happening here.’

  Flora turned to see Katie standing beside her, white-faced. She slipped her arm around the girl’s shoulders. ‘You could be right,’ she replied, giving her a small hug.

  ‘My Jack must be out there somewhere. Who knows – he could be trying to rescue our boys, just as these brave people are doing,’ Katie said, not taking her eyes off the sea.

  Flora had taken great strength from the words of Mr Churchill, the new prime minister, when he’d said: Having received His Majesty’s commission, I have formed an Administration of men and women of every Party and of almost every point of view. We have differed and quarrelled in the past; but now one bond unites us all — to wage war until victory is won, and never to surrender ourselves to servitude and shame, whatever the cost and the agony may be . . .

  ‘Everyone, including God, is on our side, Katie,’ she said. ‘Those boys will get home safely, if what we are watching is anything to go by.’

  ‘It really makes you wonder what must be going on over there for all these people to rally with their tiny boats and go out to rescue our men, doesn’t it?’ Katie said.

  Flora could feel the young woman trembling beneath her thin coat. ‘Why don’t you come back to my house tonight? I doubt many of us will get much sleep, but I can make you up a bed. And then we can come down early tomorrow to wave the boats off. I’m thinking there’ll be ways for us to help before too long.’

  ‘I’d like that, thank you,’ Katie said as Flora tucked an arm through hers and they headed away from the harbour. ‘I saw Rose and Lily earlier,’ she added, knowing she was on dodgy ground mentioning her friend. ‘They had some exciting news for me.’ She filled Flora in on the generosity of their friend, Mildred.

  Flora turned to look back at the many boats congregating in the harbour and beyond. Somewhere out there was Mildred, getting ready to set sail on a dangerous mission. If the woman could do so much for her daughter and friends then she, Flora Neville, needed to do the same and stop this awkward silence between herself and Rose. What had happened in her past needed to be put to bed once and for all, and only she could set the wheels in motion. All she needed to do was see Rose and talk with her face to face – which was a problem, as her daughter was still avoiding her.

  Rose wiped her brow with a satisfied smile. She had asked for volunteers from amongst her staff to help hand out refreshments to the servicemen, and the plan had been a resounding success. Mrs Burgess at Cadby Hall had helped arrange for extra food to be sent down for the Nippies to give out to the tired and hungry men as they came ashore after their arduous journey across the Channel, escaping the dangerous beaches of Dunkirk. Everything was set for the early morning when they would head up to the station, where coaches and buses were collecting men from the assortment of boats in the harbour and taking them to extra trains, laid on specially to ferry troops away from the town. From her vantage point at the window of the teashop, Rose could see many boats filled to overflowing with soldiers waiting to disembark. At times she was surprised the small vessels didn’t tip over, as it seemed they were top-heavy with men clinging to every possible part of the boat.

  The delivery vans sent from head office would be available for the food to be moved to wherever it was required. Checking her wristwatch, Rose could see it was about time for them to set off. She was confident that Lily would do a good job overseeing the teashop during the day; despite her friend’s objections, Rose was adamant that a long day on her feet handing out refreshments would be too much for the expectant mother. Anya too would be at the teashop, and would work all day helping out the remaining Nippies if required. Rose felt confident she’d left the shop in good hands. Straightening her Nippy cap and checking her black dress and crisp white apron were pristine, she was ready to go. Today she was not a manageress, but one of the Nippies standing side by side to serve the troops. The Margate workers would be doing the same job as Nippies from the Ramsgate teashop, and Rose was looking forward to working alongside Katie, who had been sent along to help make up the numbers. It seemed an age since the friends had last worked together. So much had happened since then.

  Sending several of the Nippies on ahead on their bicycles, once she had checked they had their gas masks, she climbed into the front seat of one of the vans and directed the driver towards the railway station. She was informed that there would be extra food dropped off during the day, and if they ran short before the vans returned she could use the telephone at the station to ask for more to be sent over from either of the two teashops. Rose nodded, her mind already on the task that lay ahead.

  Driving past the small jetty, Rose could see that weary men were being helped ashore from fishing boats. Some were walking towards the transport that would take them up to the station, while the injured were being carried on stretchers to a row of waiting ambulances. Already a number of boats were making their way back to the beaches of Dunkirk.

  From the road leading to the station, where the Lyons staff had set up trestle tables, they could still see along the short coastline to where the men were being brought ashore. ‘It seems to be never-ending,’ she said to a WVS volunteer, who was handing out tea from an urn.

  ‘It’s been like this for most of the night, my love. I’m glad you’re here, as we’ve nigh on run out of everything. I’m off to put my head down for a couple of hours, then I’ll be back with my team.’

  Rose could see how tired the woman was. ‘We’ll do our best to give refreshments to as many people as possible,’ she assured her.

  With a reminder not to forget the boat owners, who’d been told to come and get fed, the woman shut down the WVS van and disappeared into the crowd along with her helpers.

  ‘Right,’ Rose said to her girls. ‘Let’s get cracking, shall we? I suggest that we pile a selection of the pork pies and sausage rolls on each tray and have one Nippy carry them around, while a second follows with mugs of tea. Further up the line a couple of you can have trays of sliced cakes that can be held in one hand. Divide yourselves into teams of three,
and let’s see how it works out. I will need a few of you here to replenish trays and keep the urn going. These trestle tables are ours, so this will be our base while we do our bit for our troops and our country,’ Rose said, proudly hoping she had said the right words to boost morale in her team.

  ‘Who will hand out napkins and plates?’ a young Nippy asked as her co-workers tittered.

  ‘On this occasion we won’t be worrying about such things, but I do want you to keep smiling and have a pleasant word for everyone. You may see some unpleasant sights,’ she added, as an ambulance passed by and groans of pain could be heard, ‘but you will remember at all times that you work for Joe Lyons, and we are here to make a difference. If you have a problem with that, please come and speak to me. Now, let’s do what we do best. Smile and serve,’ she said, ushering the Nippies to where there were already trays of food to hand out.

  ‘Where do you want me, boss?’ Katie said when she arrived some time later with a couple of her fellow workers.

  ‘Oh, I’m so pleased to see you,’ Rose said, giving her a quick hug and greeting the other women. ‘Would you start replenishing these trays – and some of you help hand out the food and the mugs of tea. I need to let some of my girls take a short break.’

  Katie nodded her head. ‘Yes, I can do that, and please tell them to help themselves to changes of aprons if they’re mucky. We’ve had our lecture about representing the company at all times . . .’

  Rose laughed. ‘I have to confess to giving my staff the same talking-to. Here, come alongside me and we can catch up with news while we slice these Swiss rolls. I’ll have one of my girls telephone for more supplies when they go for their break.’

  ‘What’s it been like down here?’ Katie asked as she wielded a large carving knife to tackle the sponge rolls.

  ‘To be honest, it’s hell. I’ve never seen so many injured or weary men in my life. God only knows what it’s like on the other side of the Channel. The owners of the boats have been at it non-stop. I’ve been keeping an eye out for Mildred, but there’s not been a sign of her so far. I do hope she’s all right.’

 

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