The Clippie Girls (4 page)

‘Oh, Mrs Booth,’ Letty said, with tears in her eyes as the thought that had already struck Grace came into the woman’s own mind. ‘What’s goin’ to ’appen to my lovely boys?’

Five

On the following Monday Myrtle came home in a panic. ‘What am I going to do? They might close our school. They’re shutting all the elementary schools until further notice.’

Grace looked up over her glasses. ‘Whatever for?’

‘Because they say there aren’t adequate air-raid shelters. If they do, we’ve to go to each other’s houses for a bit until they get something organized.’

‘And how long’s that going to last?’ Grace had visions of hordes of unruly schoolchildren crowding into her best front room.

‘I don’t know, but they won’t be able to teach us properly like that.’

‘Quite right, Myrtle,’ Grace readily agreed. ‘I don’t want a gaggle of your classmates here. If you need to see a teacher, you go to wherever they are.’

‘It won’t be ideal, but it’ll be better that you’re safe,’ Mary put in. ‘You can study at home until they get some shelters organized.’

‘But they said it might be a
whole term
.’

‘It’s not the end of the world.’

Myrtle glared balefully at her mother. It seemed like it to her.

Peggy completed her training and became a fully fledged clippie. She loved her new job, especially dealing with the awkward customers, whom she cajoled into good humour with a smile and a cheery word. Even the prospect of standing on a cold and draughty platform when winter came, punching tickets, giving change with frozen fingers and working the late shift: none of it fazed Peggy. And Laurence Bower had teamed her with Bob. He knew that the couple were walking out together, but as long as ‘love’s young dream’ didn’t get in the way of their work, then he was happy to play Cupid; a rather old and bullish one at times, Laurence realized, but even he had a softer side that not all of those under his charge saw very often.

From the beginning, when Peggy came home in her uniform and regaled the family with stories of the training and her first days as a clippie, Rose was even more determined to join her.

‘We’ve already been warned that it’s bitterly cold in winter and boiling in summer,’ Peggy warned her. ‘It’s dirty and dusty – and you wouldn’t believe the trouble we’re likely to get from passengers sometimes. And by the end of an eight-hour lump – that’s what they call a shift – my feet are killing me.’

‘But you love it, don’t you, Peg?’

Peggy’s eyes had sparkled and she couldn’t deny it. ‘Yes, I do.’

‘Will Bob have to go? You know, be called up?’

As the first volunteers were disappearing from their neighbourhood and even one or two men from work had gone already, Rose asked the question.

Peggy shook her head. ‘He says not. Mr Bower saw a list published in
The Times
in January—’

Rose gasped. ‘You mean they thought there was a war coming back then?’

Grace, overhearing, sniffed. ‘Of course it was always coming. It never really ended last time. That’s what the papers say, anyway. And we’ve had leaflets already telling us what to do if there’s an invasion.’

‘You shouldn’t believe all you read in the newspapers, Mother,’ Mary said mildly as she glanced up at Peggy. ‘Go on, dear.’

‘Nobody listens to me,’ Grace muttered and then clamped her lips together as if determined to say no more.

‘Mr Bower kept the list,’ Peggy went on, ‘just in case it came in useful, and it includes tram motormen, so he thinks at least they’ll be exempt.’

But Grace’s efforts to remain silent didn’t last many minutes. ‘Unless they volunteer, of course. And you know what fools men are.’ She glanced up at Mary, silently reminding her that her husband, Ted, had been a gallant volunteer, but look where that had landed them all. ‘You mark my words, they’ll all go flocking to get themselves killed and we’ll be left with silly young girls to drive our trams.’

Rose’s eyes widened. ‘Do you really think so, Gran?’ She clapped her hands. ‘Oh, I do hope you’re right. I’ll ask Mr Bower in the morning and get my name put down.’

The family all laughed at Rose’s enthusiasm, not taking her seriously for a moment, but the very next day Rose cornered the inspector when he came into the canteen.

‘Mr Bower, if a lot of the drivers leave, will you be training up women to take their place, because if so I’d really like to be considered?’

‘Whoa, whoa there, Rose. Hold your horses, love.’ He peered at her closely. ‘I thought you wanted to be a clippie like your sister.’

‘I did – I
do
, but learning to drive a tram would be so much more exciting.’

‘It’s not about excitement, Rose. It’s about keeping our passengers safe.’

‘But
will
you be training girls?’

Laurence shook his head. ‘I really don’t know yet, lass. Management haven’t said owt.’

‘But if they do –
please
, Mr Bower.’ She pretended to pout, but her eyes were full of mischief as she said, ‘You know I always give you an extra spoonful of your favourite mashed potato.’

Laurence Bower wagged his forefinger playfully at her, trying hard to keep a stern expression on his face, but failing miserably. ‘Don’t think extra helpings are going to coerce me into giving you a new job. You’re a bad ’un, Rose Sylvester. A real bad ’un.’ Now he was grinning broadly, but then his smile faded and he became serious. ‘I know you want to be a clippie like your sister. She’s a good lass, bright and excellent with money. At the end of the day, her ticket takings are rarely wrong and she’s calm in a crisis. We get a few awkward customers, y’know, but she can handle them.’

He regarded Rose thoughtfully. He was already on the lookout for a new batch of recruits. Maybe he could take a chance on Rose. ‘Look, I tell you what, I’ll see if I can get you on training up to be a clippie.’

‘Oh, Mr Bower,
thank
you.’ Rose flung her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly on the cheek.

‘ ’Ere, steady on, lass. What if someone sees us?’

Rose giggled deliciously. ‘Well, it wouldn’t be the first bit of scandal in the depot, would it?’

Now that women were being trained as conductresses, rumours were always rife about tram drivers and their clippies getting a little too close to each other. But when you thought about it, Rose said, they spent more hours with their work colleagues than they did with their families. And look at Peggy and Bob, though at least neither of them was already married.

Laurence found himself smiling; you couldn’t help it for long when Rose Sylvester was around. For a lot of reasons she’d make a good clippie, and her passengers would love her. He just dreaded the moment when her ticket takings would be counted each night! Now, though, he chuckled. ‘Well, there’s never been any gossip about me and I don’t want there to be, even though I’m a widower and thought to be fair game by some of the older women. So keep your kisses for your boyfriend, there’s a good lass.’

‘Haven’t got one, Mr Bower,’ Rose said cheerfully.

‘I can’t believe that. I’spect you’re keeping them all at arm’s length until Mr Right comes along, eh?’

Rose stared at him and the smile faded from her face.

‘What? What have I said?’

‘N-nothing,’ Rose stammered, but he had. Mr Right, he’d said. And now the full force of the truth hit her like a sledgehammer. Mr Right –
her
Mr Right – had come along.

The only problem was – he was in love with her sister.

That night, in the single bed set close to Myrtle’s in the small attic room, Rose lay awake staring into the darkness, trying to come to terms with her devastating realization about her feelings for Bob Deeton. He was so kind and caring. He was good-looking too – at least Rose thought so. With light brown hair and hazel eyes. He had a stray curl that flopped onto his forehead and Rose longed to stroke it back into place. She even found his shyness endearing. He was nothing like one of those conceited, full-of-themselves young men and she liked that. But he wasn’t hers, he was Peggy’s, and so Rose must treat Bob like the brother none of them had ever had. She’d laugh and joke with him but she’d be careful never to let him – or anyone else – see how much she cared for him.

It wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d do it. For her sister and for him. If Peggy was the one he wanted, then she just hoped her sister would make him happy. Instead, Rose vowed, she’d give up all thoughts of Bob Deeton and concentrate on being the best clippie Mr Bower had ever had.

‘I won’t have to have a medical, will I, seeing as I already work for the company?’

‘I think it would be best, Rose,’ Laurence Bower said. ‘It’s a very different job from working in the canteen.’

Rose shrugged. She was confident that she would pass A1. She’d rarely had a day’s illness in her life, except for the usual childish complaints in her school days. Since she’d started work she’d never taken a day’s sick leave.

The doctor was a dour man, who spoke little and when he did it sounded as if he was permanently angry.

‘Have you brought another woman with you as chaperone?’ he asked when Rose entered the room where the medical inspections were being held.

‘Eh?’ Rose blinked in surprise and then she smiled impishly. ‘It’s all right, Doc. I don’t mind.’

‘But I do,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t want some foolish young woman making a complaint about me.’ Rose opened her mouth to protest angrily, but he ignored her and went to the door, opened it and asked the secretary seated outside to come in. The woman was clearly embarrassed, but did as she was asked, standing awkwardly in the corner whilst Rose was examined. The doctor listened to her chest, speaking only to say, ‘Breathe in’ or ‘Breathe out.’ He tested her sight and her reflexes. He examined her feet closely and then weighed and measured her.

‘You may get dressed,’ he said curtly as he sat down at his desk, picked up his pen and began to write. When she was ready he merely nodded and said, ‘You may go.’

‘Have I passed?’ Rose asked eagerly.

‘You’ll be informed,’ the doctor said stiffly. Rose left the room, raising her eyes skywards as she passed the woman now seated back at her desk. The woman smiled and gave the tiniest of nods to show that she understood and empathized. Rose went back to the room where eight other women who had also applied to become clippies were waiting for their turn to be examined.

‘He’s an old goat,’ Rose said, as she sat down beside a girl who didn’t look old enough to have left school, let alone become a tram conductress. She looked nervous and agitated, twisting her fingers together in her lap. Rose took pity on her. ‘Like me to come in with you? He seems to want another woman there when he’s examining someone.’

Relief flooded the girl’s face. ‘Oh, would you? My husband would have come, but he’s away in the army.’

Husband! Rose nearly fell off her chair and before she could stop herself, the words were out of her mouth. ‘You’re married?’ Nor could she stop the surprise in her tone. The girl must have been used to such comments, for she smiled shyly and said, ‘I’m older than I look. I’ll be twenty next month. We – we got married in April this year.’ Now she looked away, as if embarrassed, and avoided meeting Rose’s gaze. Instead, she murmured, ‘My name’s Alice. Alice Wagstaffe.’

‘And I’m Rose Sylvester. Pleased to meet you.’

When Alice was called in to see the doctor, Rose got up too and followed her in. ‘I thought I’d save the secretary the trouble of coming in again.’

The doctor glared at her for a moment, grunted something unintelligible and then got on with his examination of Alice, ignoring Rose completely.

‘Phew!’ Alice said, as they stepped out of the room a little while later. ‘Thank goodness that’s over. But now we’ve got the mental tests to get through.’

‘They’ll be dead easy,’ Rose said confidently as the nine women were taken to a large room, where the secretary was waiting for them. She smiled as the applicants filed in.

‘My name is Mrs Kerr. Please sit down.’ She waved towards the chairs set around a large table in the centre of the room. Then she handed out sheets of paper and pencils.

‘Write your name at the top, please.’ She sat down at the end of the table and began to read out sums, giving only a short space of time between each question.

‘156 tickets at 7
¹
⁄2 pence . . . 67 at a ha’penny . . . 942 at 2
¹
⁄2 pence . . .’ There were twenty such sums to do quickly. Rose was the first to finish and sat with her arms folded. She felt as if she was back at school and looked up expectantly for the teacher’s praise, but more sums were to come. Additions, subtractions and more multiplication. When all the candidates had done as many as they could manage, the woman collected the papers, smiled at them briefly and left the room, saying, ‘I’ll be taking each one of you individually for an interview. Please wait here until you are called.’

‘By ’eck,’ a middle-aged woman said as the door closed. ‘I didn’t reckon on all this. I couldn’t do them sums for toffee. What about you lot?’

One or two others nodded agreement, but those who had found the arithmetic tests quite easy – Rose amongst them – said nothing. They didn’t want to sound boastful. One by one they were called out of the room and were away for about ten minutes. When Rose’s name was called, she followed Mrs Kerr into a smaller room. Behind the desk, set in the centre of the room, sat a man of about forty dressed in an inspector’s uniform. Mrs Kerr introduced her. ‘Mr Marsden, this is Miss Rose Sylvester.’ Then she gestured towards the chair where Rose should sit, turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

The man didn’t smile at her, but his voice was deep and pleasant as he said, ‘Just a few questions, Miss Sylvester. We usually set a written questionnaire, but because of the urgent need for staff we’ve had to cut out some of the usual tests. We need to speed up the process. Do you still live at home?’

Rose explained the circumstances of her family life, ending, ‘My sister, Peggy, is a clippie.’