Beyond a Misty Shore (7 page)

‘It’s like a three-ringed circus in here,’ Maria hissed to Sophie as both their uncle and two older cousins rushed in and out between the kitchen and scullery, with Billy still half asleep getting in everyone’s way. Lizzie was on top note, firing instructions at everyone, which for the main part were ignored.

‘We’ll have to sort out a better system than this once we get jobs ourselves,’ Sophie muttered as she sat Bella at the table and spooned out porridge for the child.

It seemed a minor miracle that all four of them were ready to leave at half past eight. Sophie and Maria were going to walk both Bella and Billy to school and then Sophie intended to go along to Marsden’s, while Maria said she would go and see just what kind of a place this Heaton’s Department Store was.

Sophie was relieved to find that Miss O’Malley, who was to be Bella’s teacher, seemed both kind and sensible.

‘She’ll be just fine, Mrs Teare. I’ll keep my eye on her,’ she said confidently, and then she took Bella’s hand. ‘I think we’ll sit you next to Emily Taylor, Bella. She lives in Crocus Street, which is the next one to where you live and she’s the same age as you.’

Sophie smiled encouragingly. ‘There you are, Bella. I told you there would be other little girls to make friends with. Perhaps you and Emily can walk home together?’

Miss O’Malley smiled too. ‘What a good idea. Now, let’s go and find your desk.’

As she watched them walk away Sophie felt a little anxious, hoping this Emily would indeed befriend her daughter, for everything was still so unfamiliar to Bella.

‘At least there were no tears or tantrums,’ Maria commented as they walked towards the tram stop.

The girls parted company further along Stanley Road, full of enthusiasm for their plans, agreeing to meet up at this same tram stop when they’d completed their objectives.

Maria arrived first, feeling hopeful and relieved. The shop had surprised her for it was not as small as she’d at first imagined. She’d wandered around a few departments but had lingered longest in Haberdashery, making a mental note of what was in stock.

After fifteen minutes waiting she was beginning to get impatient and decidedly cold. At least her sister’s absence was a good sign, she thought as she walked up and down to keep her feet from becoming numb. Obviously Sophie hadn’t just been turned away with a curt refusal.

It was another five minutes before she caught sight of her sister hurrying towards her, a smile on her face.

‘I’m sorry I was so long, Maria, but I had to wait to see Mr Phillips, he’s the manager, and I had to do some sewing to prove I can use a machine, but I’m to start tomorrow morning.’

‘Oh, Sophie, that’s great!’ Maria cried.

‘He was actually very nice and praised my bit of work and
I assured him I’m diligent, neat and hard working. How did you get on?’

‘I didn’t see Katie but it’s a much bigger shop than she led us to believe. I looked around some of the departments – Aunty Lizzie was right, there’s not a lot of choice but I saw a couple of materials that might suit us and their selection of trimmings wasn’t too bad.’

‘Were they practical materials, Maria? There’s no point in buying something we won’t get much wear out of,’ Sophie asked.

‘I suppose so but I thought these were to be special dresses? Bella thinks she’s going to have a party frock.’

Sophie sighed. ‘Oh, we’ll see.’ She decided to change the subject. ‘Who did you meet last night when you were out with Katie and John?’

‘Two girls called Ivy and Daisy Caldwell – they live at number ten and they were very friendly – and then two lads, Matt and Ben Seddon at number twenty,’ Maria informed her.

‘What were they like?’ Sophie probed.

Maria shrugged. ‘All right, I suppose. They’d both been in the Army with John, but at least they had more to say for themselves than he did. Honestly, Sophie, all he does is stare at me.’

Sophie grinned. ‘He’s a bit . . . in awe of you. I hope he isn’t falling for you, though,’ she added more seriously.

Maria looked sceptical. ‘He’d better not. For one thing he’s my first cousin and for another, well . . .’ She shrugged, looking wistful.

Sophie looked at her sister closely and then sighed. ‘I thought you’d got over him? You told Mam you had.’

Maria’s dark eyes filled with tears. ‘I only said that to pacify Mam but I know I’ll never get over Hans, Sophie. I really loved him. You should know how I feel, you loved Andrew.’

Sophie put her arm around her sister. ‘He’s gone, Maria. You know you’ll never see him again. He had no choice; they made them all go back to their own countries. You
have
to forget him and think about the future. That’s why we thought it best for you to come here to live. You’re young, you’ll meet someone else. There was no future for you with him, Maria. In most people’s minds there is little difference between Germans and Austrians. Hitler was Austrian, don’t forget.’

Maria nodded miserably, but she couldn’t forget Hans. What Sophie had said about people thinking he was a Nazi sympathiser wasn’t true. He’d fled with his family before the Nazis had taken over his country. Being from a farming background they’d settled in Kent but when war had broken out, they’d been sent to the island and interned in Peel. Oh, why couldn’t he have stayed, she thought? Why had he been sent back with his parents and sister? If he’d been allowed to stay she was sure that in time people would have accepted him. Lots of people in Peel knew his family had left Austria before the war and had had no part in it at all. Hans Bonhoeffer and his father had hated Hitler and all he stood for.

Sophie tried to cheer her up. ‘Here’s the tram. Let’s get
back to Aunty Lizzie’s. We both need a hot cup of tea and at least we have some good news to tell her. Let’s hope Katie has some good news for you when she gets home tonight.’

Maria dashed away her tears with the back of her hand. She knew Sophie was right but it didn’t help when she felt so miserable and bereft.

O
CTOBER WAS PASSING SWIFTLY
and it was becoming much colder, Sophie thought as she walked home from the tram stop. It was a journey she was used to now. At least Maria had settled well into her job at Heaton’s. Her sister worked in their small millinery department, much to Katie’s envy. Katie worked in Soft Furnishings, which didn’t appeal to her a great deal. She complained that she had little interest in cushion covers, lampshades or curtains, while hats were entirely different. Everyone was interested in them, although there certainly wasn’t the wide selection now that had been available before the war. In fact lots of people tried to make their own, copying them from magazine pictures or those on display in the windows of shops like Hendersons and the Bon Marche, both of which had survived
the bombing, but whose prices were beyond most people’s pockets.

She, too, was getting on well at Marsden’s, although she couldn’t say she enjoyed it; far from it, for it was a world of heat, noise and constant, frenetic activity. The room she worked in was huge. Rows of sewing machines, in banks of two facing each other, filled it completely and the motorised belt that drove them ran on wheels above their heads, its loud clacking noise adding to the general cacophony. Between the machines was a shallow wooden trough into which the finished garments were deposited. Every worker relied on all the others to keep the line going so she had soon learned to work very rapidly indeed.

Having spent the entire day hunched over her machine, forcing the material under the drumming head of the needle, the noise of which was replicated by every other machine in the room, she always came out with a headache and stiff, aching shoulders and back. The pace of work was so relentless that there were often accidents. One of the girls who had long hair, which she wore loose, had got it entangled and but for the quick action of one of the pressers, who cut her free, would have been seriously injured. After that Mr Phillips had insisted that everyone wore turbans, but nearly every day someone was injured, usually by the needle piercing a finger or a nail. Still, the pay was good even if the conditions were not.

She pulled the collar of her coat up around her ears and shifted the carefully wrapped parcel to her other arm, smiling
to herself. Two days ago she’d plucked up courage to ask Albert Phillips if she could possibly use her machine for some personal sewing during her breaks and to her relief he had agreed. She’d explained about the dresses for the forth-coming party, which it had been decided would take place on 5 November, Bonfire Night, and he’d nodded thoughtfully.

‘So, you can make a complete garment from scratch, Mrs Teare? That’s quite unusual. Even though all the girls can use a machine very few of them can actually do that.’

She’d smiled at him. He was a rather quiet, middle-aged man with a reserved manner, although he was a stickler for punctuality and hard work and didn’t suffer fools gladly. ‘I would have liked to have been a seamstress or a tailoress but I just didn’t get the opportunity.’

He’d nodded. ‘Not many people do get what they want out of life. I’d have liked to have been a qualified engineer but I had to leave school as my mother needed the money. I’d like to see the finished garments, if you don’t mind, and there won’t be a problem about using the machine in your break,’ he added. If they were good he would see about having her transferred to the cutting room. Conditions were better and so was the pay and he liked her. She was quieter than most of the girls, pleasant and a good worker.

‘Of course. I’ll be pleased to show you them,’ she’d replied.

When Sophie reached Dodd’s corner shop she didn’t stop to chat, she just waved to Maggie who was sweeping the floor, the rush of the day now over. Thanks to Mr Phillips the dresses were coming along well. Maria had got the materials
– she’d even managed to get a bit of a discount too – and she and Katie had worked hard, pinning and tacking. Sophie had done the cutting out herself and after a few mishaps Katie had soon mastered the tacking.

Aunty Lizzie had been astonished by their expertise, especially by that of Katie who she declared had never threaded a needle in her life before, and she kept up a constant stream of conversation while they worked. Sophie smiled to herself. Maria said it would give you a headache listening to her, but Maria didn’t have to work all day in the sewing room at Marsden’s, that really
did
give you a headache.

Her reverie was interrupted by shouts and laughter and she caught sight of a group of children, who appeared to be dragging a large piece of wood towards the bombsite where she could dimly make out a growing pile of other rubbish. She frowned. If Billy and Bella and Emily Taylor were amongst them she’d certainly have something to say to all of them – and Aunty Lizzie as well. They shouldn’t be still out at this time and they’d be filthy dirty too.

She turned off the pavement and quickened her steps, peering into the gloom, trying to see if Bella was with them, and so didn’t see the small pile of blackened bricks until she tripped over them. She fell sprawling, dropping both her bag and the parcel and uttering a cry of pain.

‘Oh, damn!’ she exclaimed, realising she’d grazed both her shins and her hands.

‘Are you all right? That was quite a fall. Here, let me help you up.’

Sophie looked up into a pair of brown eyes that were full of concern and then a strong arm was around her, helping her to her feet. ‘Thank you. I’m fine, just a few grazes I think.’

He retrieved her bag and the parcel as she examined her ruined stockings and tried to brush some of the dirt from her coat.

‘You’re Frank Ryan, aren’t you? Aunty Lizzie pointed you out to me.’

He nodded and smiled at her. ‘That’s me, the neighborhood pariah, and you’re Sophie Teare. I’ve seen you a few times going in and out of Lizzie’s. You’re sure you aren’t hurt?’

She smiled back at him. You couldn’t help but like him, she thought. He was tall and quite well built with dark auburn hair, brown eyes and pleasant features. In fact she thought he was quite handsome. ‘No, I’m just a bit shaken up. I saw those kids and wanted to see if Bella and her friend Emily Taylor were with them and I tripped over some bricks.’

‘Lucky I was only a few steps behind you then.’ He looked across to where the little group was now adding the wood to the pile. ‘They’re building a bonfire for Guy Fawkes’ Night.’

‘Is that what they’re at,’ she replied as they both walked back towards the road. He’d handed back her bag but he was carrying the parcel.

‘We always had a big bonfire in our street and fireworks on November fifth, before the war. Us lads spent weeks
begging and . . . er . . . “purloining” stuff to build it.’ He smiled ruefully, remembering his carefree childhood. ‘There haven’t been either bonfires or fireworks for the past six years so the kids are enjoying themselves.’

‘I expect there were quite enough “bonfires” and “fireworks” during that time in this city for most people to contend with.’

He nodded grimly. ‘There were indeed.’

They walked for a little while in silence and then Sophie turned to him. ‘I heard you were in the Royal Navy.’