The Woolworths Girls (10 page)

She kissed his cheek, wished him a happy Christmas and promised to visit him in the new year, before heading to the kitchen to help with the last of the washing-up. As she ran hot water and scattered soap flakes into a bowl, the kitchen door opened behind her. She was delighted to see Alan standing there.

‘Oh, Alan. I thought you were taking the old folk home?’

Alan looked a little sheepish, with no hint of the bravado he’d had during his performance. ‘I am. I just wanted to give you this. You’ll have probably gone home by the time I get back.’ He held out a small, square box wrapped in green paper and tied with a red bow. ‘Don’t open it until Christmas Day. I won’t be in Erith over the holiday, as I’m taking Mum to see Dad’s family. It’s a long-standing invitation,’ he added by way of an apology.

Sarah took the box. ‘Thank you. You didn’t have to. I’ve not got anything for you.’

He held up his hand to silence her apology. ‘There’s no need. I hoped that you wouldn’t think too badly of me for not asking you out yet. I want to. I really do. Perhaps in January, when we aren’t working all hours?’

Sarah smiled. ‘I’d really like that.’

Alan stepped towards her. Sarah held her breath. Was he going to kiss her?

At that moment the door flew open and Freda and Maisie burst in.

‘Oops! Sorry. Did we interrupt something?’ Maisie asked. ‘My hubby’s here. He said he’d walk us all home.’

‘No, I was just going,’ Alan said. ‘Have a lovely Christmas, girls. Don’t work too hard tomorrow.’

Sarah slipped the small box into her pocket, hoping that the Christmas holidays would soon pass so she could be alone once more with Alan and truly be his girlfriend.

Christmas Day passed in a flurry of visitors. Ruby always kept an open house for family and friends, and this year was no exception. Young Freda had stayed over after going straight to number thirteen after work on Christmas Eve. Both girls, tired after working until ten o’clock, had gratefully tucked into the sandwiches Ruby had ready for them and enjoyed the cocoa they all shared before retiring for the night.

Sarah had hoped to see her parents over the short Christmas period, but it wasn’t to be. She’d rung her mother from the phone box at the end of the road during her lunch hour on Christmas Eve, hoping that by speaking to her mum she’d convince her either to come up by car or catch a train to Kent. But Irene Caselton had flatly refused to travel in such bad weather. Besides, there was a party at the golf club on Boxing Day and she couldn’t be seen to miss it. Sarah felt sad not to be seeing either of her parents, but her dad had assured her he’d be heading back to Erith for work early in January and had a pile of parcels with her name attached. She may have been twenty years old, but the thought of opening a parcel still gave her a thrill. She just couldn’t wait to open the gift from Alan. As she drifted off to sleep, she slipped her hand underneath her pillow to where she had placed the small box. A sigh of happiness passed her lips as she fell into a deep sleep.

‘Cor blimey, my feet are killing me,’ Ruby declared as she lowered herself onto the overstuffed sofa in the front room.

‘I’m not surprised, Nan. You’ve been on the go since early morning. How about I pour you a glass of stout, or would you prefer a port and lemon?’

‘Sarah, love, a glass of stout would go down a dream, along with a slice of Christmas cake. If we have any left? Those kids of Pat’s are like gannets. I’ve never seen so much grub cleared away in one sitting. I reckon the lot of ’em have got worms.’

Sarah giggled. Nan always said what she thought. It was true. Her aunt Pat’s kids could pack away a fair amount of food. ‘I’ve hidden some in the pantry, along with the ham and the chicken left over from our Christmas dinner. So don’t worry – we won’t starve just yet.’

‘I don’t think I’ll be able to eat another bite for a week,’ Freda exclaimed as she tidied cushions and straightened the antimacassars on the armchairs. ‘You’re a great cook, Mrs Caselton. The roast chicken and plum pudding were the best I’ve ever tasted. I loved playing party games with the kiddies as well. How many grandchildren do you have?’

‘Seven. Sarah here and Pat’s six. Anyways, I think it’s six. They never stand still long enough for me to count them.’

Freda nodded her head. ‘I think I counted six, unless one is hiding somewhere.’ She started to look behind the settee and under the table, which set Ruby laughing until her sides ached.

‘Freda, you’re a right tonic.’ She patted the empty seat next to her. ‘Come sit down here and tell me about your family. I assume a young thing like you still has parents alive?’

Sarah held her breath. Both she and Maisie had given up asking questions of Freda, as she would duck and dive around whenever asked.

Freda sat next to Ruby and wrung her hands together as she spoke. ‘I do have a family. A large one, as it happens, but if you don’t mind, I prefer not to talk about them. It’s best I don’t. It may seem ungrateful after the way you’ve been so good to me, all of you’ – she smiled at Sarah – ‘but for now I want to enjoy my present life and not think about the past. If that’s all right?’

Ruby patted the young girl’s knee. ‘That’s all right by me, but do remember that you can turn to us anytime, night or day, if you need some help or just want to talk. Now, what about that slice of cake?’

Freda jumped to her feet. ‘Thanks, Ruby. I’m lucky to have met you. You too, Sarah. I’ll get that cake, shall I? Then I must go back to my lodgings. I don’t like to be away too long in case my landlady thinks I’ve run away and lets the room. I’ll only be a tick with that cake.’

Ruby frowned as Freda left the room. ‘She wouldn’t kick the kid out, would she, Sarah?’

‘I dunno, Nan. It doesn’t seem that nice a place to live, from what she’s said. I tell you what, I’ll accompany her home; then I can tell you what it’s like. It’s not far. Just down Queens Road.’

‘There’s a good girl. I’ll pack up some bits and pieces for her to take for her dinner for Boxing Day tomorrow. I wish she’d stay here. At least until tomorrow. The kid’s stubborn. I’ve a mind to offer her the spare room. We could have a bed put in the front room for when your dad stays.’

Sarah hugged Ruby. ‘You’re a diamond, Nan. I’ll try and convince her to come live with us.’

‘You know, Sarah, this is the first chance we’ve had to talk today, what with all the visitors. I thought Mrs Munro was going to stay until the sherry bottle was empty. That woman can put it away. I’ve been meaning to ask you about the pretty brooch you’re wearing. I’ve not seen it before. Was it a gift from your mum and dad?’

Sarah ran her fingers over the small spray of flowers picked out in coloured glass that she’d pinned to her navy velvet dress. The stones sparkled in the light of the coal fire. She’d been delighted when she opened the small box and found the brooch nestling among a bed of cotton wool. ‘No, it’s a gift from a friend.’ She blushed as her nan raised an eyebrow.

‘Friends don’t usually make you blush like that. Was it from young Alan? Is he keen on you?’

Sarah nodded. ‘Yes, Alan gave it to me. Nan, he wants to take me out once Christmas is over. Do you think it’s OK?’

Ruby thought for a moment. ‘You’re twenty, and he’s a good lad. I can’t see any problem with that. But think on what your mother will say, and don’t do anything to upset her, will you?’

‘Aw, Nan, do you think I would?’

‘No, I don’t, love, but you seem smitten with him, and love can make us do some silly things sometimes. Just take things slow. There’s no rush. You’re both only kids.’

Sarah nodded as her nan spoke, but then she recalled Alfie’s words and wondered. Did her generation have the luxury of time to fall in love?

‘You really don’t have to help me, Sarah. I can get home on my own.’ Freda had looked worried when Sarah suggested helping her carry her small suitcase and the box of food that Ruby had thrust into her arms as she prepared to leave. Slices of chicken and ham with cold cooked potatoes and cabbage, which she just needed to fry up to make delicious bubble and squeak, as well as a couple of mince pies and a large slice of Ruby’s homemade Christmas cake.

‘I don’t mind. It’s nice to have a walk after eating so much today. Besides, you can’t carry this lot yourself. Here, give me the box to carry.’

Freda passed the box over and they walked in companionable silence. The snow had not long stopped falling and seemed to glisten in the light from the street lamps. The world had a perfect silence about it as the two friends created fresh footprints in the virgin snow.

Sarah looked up the ten steps to the shabby front door of a Victorian terraced house. At one time the street would have seen the wealthier inhabitants of Erith living under its roofs, but now many of the houses were home to multiple inhabitants or were lodging houses to the poorer population. As Freda pushed open the door, Sarah was hit by the smell of boiled cabbage, mixed with something she couldn’t quite distinguish. She tried not to wrinkle her nose in distaste in case her young friend noticed.

Freda went to the bottom of the wide staircase. ‘It’s a bit of a climb, I’m afraid. I’m on the top floor.’

They’d not gone halfway up the first flight of stairs when a voice boomed from behind them. A woman wearing a wraparound apron that had seen better days, with her hair in curlers, stood with her arms folded across her ample bosom glaring up at them. ‘Miss Smith, I’ll ask you not to take one more step up those stairs.’

Freda frowned. ‘Good evening, Mrs Carter. Is there a problem?’

Sarah held her breath, which was easy to do considering the cabbage smell had been joined by the acrid aroma of burnt onions wafting from an open door. Mrs Carter must live in the basement of the building, as she could see steps leading downwards. Was this the money-grabbing landlady whom Freda had mentioned, who charged her tenants for every small convenience that many took for granted? Perhaps Freda had not kept up with her rent. From the stern look on the woman’s face, this was something serious.

‘Yes, you could call it that. I understand you’ve not been staying in your room . . .’

‘I told you I was spending last night at my friend’s house in Alexandra Road, just in case you were worried by my absence.’

Sarah doubted that the landlady was worried about any of her tenants.

The woman huffed. ‘That’s as maybe, but I don’t expect to have to chase away male callers on your behalf.’ She pulled the collar of her blouse closer to her neck. ‘He was an unsavoury sort and I feared for my life.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Carter. I don’t know what you mean.’ Freda placed her suitcase on the step in front and leant across the banister to face her landlady head on.

Mrs Carter was in full flow. ‘I was ready to call the police. I asked him if he wanted to rent a room, but he said he was just looking for you.’

Sarah wondered if Mrs Carter would have been more welcoming to the stranger if he’d held out cash for a room. But who was looking for Freda?

‘He gave me such a scare. Strange, brooding sort. Scruffy, with a scar on his cheek. A bad lot, I’d say.’

Freda went to take a step down the stairs but was blocked by Sarah standing behind her still holding the box of food. ‘A scar, you say? Where is he now?’

Mrs Carter looked down her nose. ‘So you do know him? I’m surprised you associate with the likes of him. I sent him packing, of course. Told him I’d get my old man to call the coppers. That worried him. He soon took off after that.’

Freda put her hand to her mouth, looking worried. ‘Did he say anything at all?’

‘I closed the door on him. I don’t want his sort over my threshold, and I’ll ask you to do the same. I don’t hold with the likes of him, so I don’t want you under my roof either.’

Sarah felt it was time to speak up. This may have something to do with Freda not wanting to speak about her past life, but right now her friend needed support.

‘Miss Smith has a new place to live, Mrs Carter. In fact, we only returned to collect her belongings.’

‘Sarah?’ Freda looked bemused.

‘Come along, Freda – let’s go get your things.’ She handed the box to Mrs Carter. ‘Here is a gift for you. I hope it will be accepted in the spirit of the season.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Not untimely, as it seems you may have burnt your supper.’

‘Well, I never,’ was all Mrs Carter could say as the two girls climbed the stairs together.

Ruby gazed at the clear night sky through her kitchen window as she dried the last of the cups and saucers. It had been a good party considering they hadn’t planned to celebrate seeing in 1939. This time last year she’d not long buried her Eddie and wasn’t up to thinking much about the future. Now, with Sarah having made number thirteen her home, life was moving on, and that’s as it should be. She sighed thoughtfully as she turned the cups upside down on their matching saucers before placing them carefully on a shelf in the kitchen cabinet. The evening had been fun. She’d expected to feel sad thinking back to times gone by, but no, the young women had included her in their happiness, and yes, it was catching.

Maisie had arrived with her husband. Ruby had seen him from afar as he’d grown up in Erith but had to admit he was nothing like his foul-mouthed mother. He liked a glass of beer, though, and had undoubtedly knocked back a few before he stepped over the threshold of number thirteen. Saying that, he was a quiet lad and only showed a spark when someone mentioned the chances of a war, at which point Ruby had got to her feet from her armchair and announced she was making herself a cup of tea and did anyone else want one. Even with their gas masks safely stored in the cupboard under the stairs, she didn’t want to think of what lay ahead. Let those politicians sort it out. That was their job. Hers was to make a home for her family.

With young Freda now living under her roof, Ruby didn’t worry about the girl so much. She was welcome to stay as long as she wanted, although the girl kept saying she wouldn’t stay long and would continue to look for new digs. She was too young to be alone. Ruby made a mental note to give her a talking-to. It was a rum do when Sarah came home with Freda on Christmas night. The kid hadn’t wanted to talk much and was adamant the strange man was not something she wished to discuss. She’d tucked herself up in bed with a hot-water bottle but Ruby could hear Freda crying gently before she’d even closed the door.