The Girls in Blue (13 page)

‘I don’t know. Everybody go downstairs to the basement. Mr Scott, make sure that everyone in your department leaves the shop floor.’ Mr Wallace rushed into his office and came out again with a tin hat on his head and a whistle in his hand. He blew a sharp blast as the terrified staff rushed towards the staircase. ‘Single file. Don’t rush. That’s an order.’

‘Give a chap a tin hat and a whistle and he thinks he’s Hitler,’ Rita whispered, giggling.

‘Hush, he’ll hear you.’ Miranda gave her a warning look, but she doubted if Mr Wallace could have heard Rita’s comment above the agitated chatter of the women and the deeper voices of the men, who were all trying to appear cool and calm, even though some of them had pushed to the front.

‘Whatever happened to women and children first?’ Rita demanded in a loud voice.

‘I’ll look after you, love.’ A middle-aged man with dark hair greased back from his forehead and a thin pencil moustache like those favoured by Hollywood heart-throbs attempted to put his arm around her shoulders, but Rita slapped his hand away.

‘Give over, you silly bugger.’

‘Have you forgotten me already, Rio Rita? I’m Joe.’

‘Hurry along,’ Mr Wallace said with another sharp blast on his whistle. ‘No talking. Get under cover.’

‘It’s a practice. I know it is.’ A thin girl with suspiciously blonde hair pushed past Joe in an attempt to get to the stairs first. ‘Get out of my way.’

‘It’s a false alarm, Liz. Don’t blow a fuse, darling.’

‘Pig,’ she said, making a grab for the handrail. ‘You might think you’re God’s gift to women, but you’re not.’

‘This is a wonderful start to a new job,’ Miranda whispered, receiving a wink and a smile in response from Rita as they were swept downstairs to the basement.

When they were all assembled Mr Wallace carried out an impromptu roll call. Minutes later the all clear sounded and everyone trooped back upstairs to take their positions as the doors were opened and the first customers began to trickle in.

Miranda and Rita spent the first ten minutes in Mr Wallace’s office receiving their instructions. He sent Rita downstairs to the packing department, and she slouched off with her shoulders hunched in a mute gesture of rebellion against what she considered to be a menial position.

‘Now then, Miss Beddoes,’ he said smoothly. ‘I have great hopes for you and so I’m starting you off in the haberdashery department under the aegis of Mrs Dowsett, who is one of our longest serving and most respected employees. She will explain your duties.’

‘Thank you, Mr Wallace.’

He moved towards the doorway. ‘Follow me.’ He led her through the store, and having introduced her to the buxom lady behind the counter, he sauntered off to speak to a group of customers.

Mrs Dowsett seemed less than delighted to have Miranda assigned to her counter. She looked her up and down as if trying to find something in her attire to criticise. ‘I know your grandmother.’

Miranda was instantly wary. ‘I believe she’s quite well known.’

‘Notorious, I should say.’ Mrs Dowsett sniffed and continued to tidy the ribbon drawer. ‘You may finish this for me. When you’ve done that come to me and I’ll find you something else to do.’

‘Just a moment.’ Miranda caught her by the sleeve of her black dress. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Dowsett, but you can’t make remarks like that and just walk away.’

‘And who are you to question me? You are on dangerous ground, Miss Beddoes. I’ll allow such a piece of insolence to pass this once, and only because you are new here, but if I have cause to reprimand you for anything further you will find yourself in Mr Wallace’s office.’

‘But …’ Miranda bit her lip. She could see that this was not the time to press the matter further, but she was burning with indignation and even more determined to get to the bottom of such a defamatory remark. She set to and tidied the rolls of ribbon, and did all the mundane tasks allotted to her without
comment
. At lunchtime she met Rita outside the building and they walked to the seafront where they sat on a pile of sandbags and ate their meat paste sandwiches.

‘I’m down in the bloody basement,’ Rita said, swallowing a mouthful of food. ‘I’m working with that idiot Joe Hoskins, who thinks he’s the reincarnation of Rudolph bloody Valentino, and a young boy who’s a bit simple.’

Miranda took a sip from her bottle of Granny’s lemonade. ‘It’s a job, Rita. I hate mine too but until something better turns up, it looks as if we’ll have to put up with it.’

‘It makes me even more determined to get back to London as soon as I’ve saved up enough. I’m not hanging about in this place and getting me bum pinched by Joe Hoskins whenever he passes me in the corridor.’

‘He didn’t!’

‘He damned well did, and he got a slap around the chops for his pains.’

Miranda almost choked on her sandwich. ‘Good for you.’

‘I’m not going to be messed about with.’

Miranda glanced at the clock on the Esplanade. ‘Good Lord, look at the time. We’d best get back to work.’

‘Back to slavery, you mean.’ Rita scrambled to her feet.

Miranda stowed the bottle in her handbag and
stood
up. ‘At least you don’t have to work for an old cow like Mrs Dowsett. She’s said some nasty things about Granny and I want to know why.’

‘She’s probably just jealous. I’d ignore her if I was you.’ Rita linked her hand through the crook of Miranda’s arm. ‘C’mon. Back to the coalface.’

Halfway through the afternoon, Miranda was standing by while Mrs Dowsett demonstrated yet again how to measure material and cut to the required length. The customer waited patiently and Miranda tried to look interested, but she found her attention wandering. Mrs Dowsett seemed to have a sixth sense for such things and she paused. ‘Are you observing this, Miss Beddoes?’

The customer tut-tutted beneath her breath but it was still audible enough, and Mrs Dowsett smiled apologetically. ‘I am so sorry, madam. Training new girls is always a tedious process. Pay attention, please, Miss Beddoes.’ She cut the cloth, snapping the blades of the scissors with a flourish. ‘There, you see – a perfectly straight line with no wastage. Now you may fold and wrap Madam’s purchase.’

‘Yes, Mrs Dowsett.’ Outwardly meek but inwardly fuming, Miranda made a neat package and was about to give it to the customer when Mrs Dowsett snatched it from her.

She examined it closely. ‘It will do, but it’s a bit slipshod, Miss Beddoes. Do better next time.’ She passed it across the counter. ‘Young girls these days
have
to be taught everything. One cannot get the staff.’

‘Beddoes?’ The customer peered into Miranda’s face. ‘Are you related to Maggie Beddoes by any chance?’

Ignoring the warning look from Mrs Dowsett, Miranda smiled and nodded. ‘She’s my grandmother.’

‘I know her well. We’re both members of the Women’s Institute. Tell her that Doris Appleby sends her regards.’

‘Yes, I will.’

‘Well, goodbye, dear,’ Mrs Appleby said, dropping the parcel into her basket. ‘Good luck with your new job.’ She acknowledged Mrs Dowsett with a brief nod of her head and walked off.

‘Don’t ever do that again,’ Mrs Dowsett hissed.

‘What have I done wrong now?’

‘And don’t take that tone with me, young lady. You are a junior here and you do not enter into personal conversations with customers.’

‘I’m sorry, but she spoke to me. All I said was …’

‘Miranda, is that really you?’ Isabel Carstairs edged her way through the crowded shop floor to approach the counter. ‘You didn’t tell me that you worked here.’

‘It’s my first day.’ Miranda shot a sideways glance at Mrs Dowsett who was now positively seething.

‘What did I just tell you, Miss Beddoes? This is
not
a cocktail party, although I hear there are plenty of those at Highcliffe.’

Isabel stiffened. ‘I beg your pardon, but I was speaking to my friend. I’m a customer and I don’t think Mr Mawson would be too happy to hear that one of his senior staff had been discourteous.’

Mrs Dowsett’s haughty expression faded into one of total chagrin. ‘I beg your pardon, madam. No offence intended.’

‘None taken,’ Isabel said, smiling. ‘Now, if I may have a word with your assistant perhaps you would like to attend to that lady who is waving a pair of gloves in order to attract your attention.’

Mrs Dowsett moved off, every inch of her considerable frame bristling with indignation.

‘Izzie, that was very naughty of you,’ Miranda whispered. ‘I’ll be for it when you’ve gone.’

‘I don’t think she’d dare. Anyway, what are you doing here? I wouldn’t have thought this was your sort of thing, Miranda.’

‘It’s not, but I’m going to be staying in Weymouth for longer than I thought, and I have to do something. I was offered the job and I wanted to earn some money.’

‘Well, I admire your spirit.’ Isabel glanced over her shoulder as Mrs Dowsett finished serving the customer. ‘We can’t talk here. What about lunch tomorrow?’

‘We only get half an hour.’

‘How about dinner? To tell the truth, I’m so bored
I
could scream. I’ll pick you up at seven, if that’s all right with you. I’m sure Mrs Beasley can make us something delicious, despite rationing.’

‘Thanks. That sounds lovely.’

‘I’ll look forward to it. Bye, Miranda.’ Isabel leaned across the counter. ‘Don’t let the old tabby bully you.’ She strolled off towards the lingerie department.

Miranda waited for the inevitable dressing down, but Mrs Dowsett seemed to have her temper under control. However, she managed to exert her authority by sending Miranda down to the basement to tidy up the stockroom. In the narrow corridor at the bottom of the stairs she narrowly missed a collision with Rita, who was laden with parcels and small packages tied up with string. ‘Where are you going?’ Rita demanded. ‘Is there another air raid practice?’

‘No. I’ve been sent to tidy up the stockroom. Where are you going with those?’

‘There’s a van waiting in the delivery bay, apparently. You’ll never guess who’s driving for them.’

‘Who is it?’

‘The docket says T. Toop. At a guess I’d say that was our friend Tommy.’

‘Let’s hope he isn’t taking them in his handcart,’ Miranda said, chuckling.

‘Maybe they’ve got one of them bicycles with a big basket on the front.’ Rita pulled a face. ‘I’d give
anything
to see him pedalling along with his bony arms and legs stuck out at angles and a fag hanging out of the corner of his mouth.’

‘Miss Platt? That had better not be your dulcet tones I can hear out there.’ A sudden loud voice emanating from the packing room caused them both to jump.

Miranda’s smile faded. ‘Who’s that?’ she whispered.

‘It’s Joe the bum pincher. He thinks he owns me body and soul, but he’s got another think coming. Anyway, got to go. See you at six.’ Rita moved on slowly, balancing her load with considerable skill.

Miranda made her way to the stockroom and unlocked the door. She was beginning to feel as though she had been working here forever. Time seemed to move at a slower pace in Morris and Mawson’s empire, and there was still another hour before closing time. She switched on the light and gazed in dismay at the litter of empty boxes, cardboard cartons and general disorder. It would take hours of hard graft to bring order from chaos, but at least it was quiet and peaceful down here, and she did not have the dragon Dowsett breathing down her neck. She set to work with a will.

Next morning Mrs Dowsett sent Miranda straight to the stockroom, barely giving her time to take off her hat and gloves. It was becoming obvious to Miranda that the tyrant of the haberdashery department
considered
that banishment to the basement was the best way to discipline a new recruit to the workforce, especially one who had the effrontery to be higher up the social scale than she was. Miranda decided to make the best of things, and she set about her task methodically. Albert Scott came down to check on her progress in the middle of the morning and was suitably impressed. She could only hope that he would put Mrs Dowsett firmly in her place the next time she ran to him telling tales.

Rita popped her head round the door several times during the course of the day, and they ate their packed lunch on the seafront, but by closing time Miranda was feeling like a mole. She was hot, dusty and longing for a bath. If she were to be honest she did not feel up to an evening at Thornleigh Court with Izzie Carstairs. She liked her well enough, but she had the feeling that Izzie’s sudden wish to have her as a friend was based on her desire to learn everything about Jack, and perhaps to overcome the animus that existed between their families. She was anticipating a rather dull evening being questioned as to Jack’s likes and dislikes, how many girlfriends he had had and every detail that she could bring to mind about her uncle’s past life. It was not as if she had anything in common with Izzie, who was rich, beautiful and probably quite spoilt.

Even after wallowing in a hot bath and washing the dust from her blonde hair, Miranda still had some misgivings about the evening ahead. She had
not
had the nerve to tell her grandmother where she was going, but had said simply that she had been invited to have supper with one of the girls from work. Rita had teased her mercilessly but she had agreed to keep up the fiction. They had even invented a person called Sandra Barker, who was a beauty consultant for Elizabeth Arden. Rita had warmed to the story and had given Sandra a family history that would have done credit to Susan Coolidge, including a near fatal accident during childhood resulting in her losing the power of her legs and her subsequent miraculous recovery. Sandra had a boyfriend who was in the merchant navy and her parents were conveniently out of the country, her father being something in the colonial service, which made it impossible for Maggie to corroborate or refute the story. Rita herself had a date with Tommy Toop and they kept that a secret too.

Miranda had a nasty feeling that they were spinning a spider’s web of lies around themselves which might make life even more complicated as time went by. She had almost decided to ring Thornleigh Court and make an excuse for not going, but as she went to pick up the telephone receiver she glanced out of the window and saw a car drawing up outside. Her heart sank and a sudden sense of foreboding seized her as she spotted Izzie about to open the garden gate.