The Woolworths Girls (14 page)

She put her arm around the now sobbing Sarah and led her into the office, making her sit down before patting her shoulder to comfort her. She locked the door and sat watching until Sarah’s tears subsided. ‘Whatever is the problem, Sarah? Have you been upset by a customer?’

‘N-no, it’s Alan. He wants to join the RAF and fight if there’s a war. I can’t let him do that. I just can’t.’ She dissolved into tears again.

Betty Billington slid her own cup of tea across the desk. ‘Sip this. It will make you feel better.’

Sarah fumbled in her overall pocket for a handkerchief.

‘Here, have this one.’ Betty took a crisp, white lady’s handkerchief from her drawer. ‘It’s clean. I keep a stock of them in case of emergencies.’

Sarah gave a weak smile and wiped her eyes. ‘Thank you. I’m sorry to be so much trouble.’ She went to get up. ‘I’ll get back to my counter.’

Betty Billington held up her hand to stop her. ‘No, Sarah. Sit down. I want to know why you are so upset. You say it is Alan?’

Sarah nodded. ‘Yes, he took me to Gravesend airfield on Sunday and I discovered he intends to join the RAF and . . . and I just can’t bear the thought of him leaving here and being in danger.’ She started to cry again. ‘I’ve decided we should stop seeing each other. I couldn’t bear to lose him. I just need to tell him . . .’

Betty sat thoughtfully watching Sarah as she sniffed into the tear-dampened handkerchief, before reaching for her handbag. She pulled out a small, worn envelope, taking from it a photograph of a young man in uniform, along with a faded yellow letter. She slid them across the desk. ‘I’ve never shown anyone these before.’

Sarah picked up the photograph and saw the pain in Betty’s eyes. ‘You knew this young man?’

‘He was my fiancé. We’d been courting for a year when he went away to war. He wanted us to marry before he left, but I said it was too soon. We should wait. I was only seventeen. I wanted a proper wedding with a lace gown and a bottom drawer. I’d dreamt about it all my life. With friends that I’d seen marry, I wanted the same.’

‘You never married?’ Sarah asked as she picked up the letter and looked at the few lines of writing.

Betty looked sad. ‘As you can see, we almost made it. I missed him so much that I wrote and told him I’d changed my mind and that when he returned home on leave, I’d marry him. But it was too late. They found the letter after he was killed. So many young men died that day at Ypres. A politician is quoted as saying at the start of the war that the lamps went out all over Europe. For me, they were never to be lit again.’

Sarah gasped at the horror of what Miss Billington had told her and reread the few words.

17 August 1917

My dearest Betty,

Your words cheered me no end, my darling. When this bloody battle is over, I’ll get leave and we will become man and wife. Buy the ring and I’ll place it on your finger the moment I disembark . . .

Fondly,

Charlie

Sarah could only read those few lines, as the ink had faded, but Charlie’s name could still be seen clearly at the bottom of the page. She looked at Betty. ‘He never came home?’

Betty took back the photograph and letter, and placed them into the envelope. Holding them close to her heart, she looked Sarah straight in the eyes. ‘What I’m trying to advise you is to grab your happiness while you can. No one knows what’s round the next corner. You love Alan, so accept him for what he is. Don’t question him. Don’t try to change him. Just enjoy what time you do have, whether it be a year or fifty years.’

Sarah could see the glint of a tear in Betty’s eye.

Betty held up her right hand. ‘We never walked up the aisle, but I wear the ring my Charlie would have placed on my finger. I may not carry his name, but in my heart I’m Mrs Charlie Mann. It wouldn’t have been right to wear the ring on my left hand, so I keep it safe here until we meet again. I’m as much a widow as the women who were fortunate enough to marry their beaus. I honour Charlie’s memory by not taking a husband.’

Sarah knew then that she couldn’t let what happened with Betty and her Charlie happen to her and Alan. Whatever the future brought, she’d be with him. ‘Thank you for sharing such a private part of your life.’

Betty smiled. ‘Most of the staff think I’m a grumpy old spinster.’ She held up her hand as Sarah went to protest. ‘No doubt that’s how I appear, and it suits me to have people think of me that way. But my life is not that bad. I’m no different to thousands of other women my age. I have my memories.’

For want of something to do, Sarah lifted the cup to her lips. By this time the tea had cooled.

Betty stood, slipping the envelope into her pocket. ‘I’ll go fetch us both a fresh cup of tea.’

‘I really should go back to my counter.’

Betty waved at her to stay where she was. ‘Time for that later. Another ten minutes won’t hurt. Pull yourself together. You’ll be making big changes to your life before too long, so best you start with a cup of tea inside you.’

Sarah smiled. ‘You sound like my nan. She always says the same.’

‘Then she’s a sensible woman,’ Betty said as she left the room.

Sarah wiped her eyes. She must stop this crying. What must her boss think of her? She noticed a small mirror on the wall and went to check her face. Her eyes were red from crying, and her nose was beginning to match. If she were Maisie, she’d have a powder compact and lipstick in her pocket to make some repairs. But she wasn’t. She’d go to the washroom shortly and splash her face with cold water before heading for the shop floor to join her colleagues – they must all be wondering where she’d got to. Once Miss Billington had brought her the cup of tea, that was. She was a decent sort, and next time Sarah heard one of the girls joking about her boss, she’d make sure to hush them up.

She heard a noise in the hallway. Miss Billington must be trying to open the door. No mean feat with two cups and saucers in her hands. She opened the door, pinning a smile to her face at the same time so that her boss could see that she was getting over her tears. Alan stood there looking anxious.

‘Alan?’

‘I was worried about you, Sarah. You were so distressed. Miss Billington saw me and said I was to come and speak to you.’

Sarah smiled to herself. Was her boss pushing her and Alan together? ‘I was just a little upset, Alan. Miss Billington allowed me to sit in her office for a while. Don’t stand there in the passage. Come in.’

Alan looked uncomfortable. Miss Billington’s office was not somewhere he frequented often. Staff meetings and requests for days off came to mind. ‘Look, Sarah, about Sunday. I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you about the flying and everything. I just didn’t think straight.’

Sarah watched Alan. He looked so upset. She felt her love for him surge in her heart. ‘I’m sorry too, Alan. I shouldn’t have run off like that. You must have been so worried. It’s just that it got too much for me.’

Alan took her by the hand. ‘Will you ever forgive me?’

‘Oh, Alan, I should be the one asking for forgiveness. I’m such an idiot. If you have a dangerous hobby, I shouldn’t complain. After all, you did it long before you knew me.’

‘Sarah, it’s much more than that. I’ve been trying to tell you that if there’s a war, and it’s more than likely going to happen, then I will sign up. Can you see that it’s something I’ve got to do?’

‘But, Alan, there’ll be plenty of people to fly planes and join the RAF. You have a good job here. Why change things?’

Alan led Sarah to a chair and knelt in front of her as she sat down. He took both of her hands in his. ‘Do you think I really want to fight the enemy and possibly kill other chaps who are no older than me and also have sweethearts waiting for them at home? I’d rather stay here and see you every day and go to the pictures and have a laugh at work. But would you want your boyfriend to be a coward?’

Sarah snatched her hands away. ‘No one could ever call you a coward, Alan. You’re a decent person. I wouldn’t be seen with a coward.’

Alan sighed. ‘That’s why I need to sign up. Hopefully these politicians will sort something out and we won’t go to war, but if we do, I need to do my bit. Don’t think I’m not afraid, Sarah. I’m as worried as you are. I want to live to see my children grow up and to watch my grandchildren . . . our grandchildren live in a happy world free of bullies like that Hitler.’

Sarah stroked his cheek tenderly. ‘Oh, Alan, I want that as well, but I just can’t bear to lose you.’

‘Could you bear it if I was branded a coward? Because that’s what will happen if I don’t play my part. Years ago the families of cowards were given white feathers. Do you want that to happen to our families?’

‘No, of course I don’t,’ Sarah sighed. She knew then she had to give in. This was one battle she wouldn’t win. She loved Alan for his principles and determination, even if it did mean she may lose him. She held back that fear. Perhaps it would never happen. ‘Alan, go with my blessing, but promise me you’ll never do anything to endanger your life, and as soon as you can, you must come back to me.’

‘I’ll do my best, my love. The RAF may not even want me. I’ve only just completed the application form. The chaps at Gravesend will put a good word in for me, but chances are they won’t want a shop boy from Erith flying their planes. They usually have a load of toffs do those jobs. I may not be good enough.’

Sarah was indignant. ‘Now, none of that talk, Alan Gilbert. I’m sure you are the best at flying planes that there is. They’d be lucky to have you. You go tell them I said so.’ She then went quiet for a moment, before adding, ‘But like I said, you stay safe and come home to me as soon as you can.’

Alan pulled Sarah into his arms. ‘I promise you I will, my love. Nothing will keep us apart for a moment longer than necessary.’ Alan silenced Sarah’s next words as his lips claimed hers.

The door opened quietly and Betty Billington entered the room with a tray holding two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. She smiled. It was good to see that Sarah had made things up with Alan. There were bound to be dangerous times ahead. With all her heart she hoped this couple would make it through and she’d be there to see them celebrate a happy future together.

She cleared her throat. ‘Drink this up, the pair of you, and then get back on the shop floor. Mr Benfield will be wondering where all his staff have disappeared to. I’ll take my tea in the staffroom. There may at least be a chance I get to drink it.’

‘Where the ’eck have you been?’ Maisie peered at Sarah. ‘You may be smiling, but yer eyes are puffy. Something’s happened. You’ve been really strange the last couple of days. What’s up?’

‘Sshh! I’m sure Sarah will tell us when we have a break,’ Freda said as she pushed Maisie back behind her counter. ‘We’ll be for it if we’re caught off duty.’ She could tell from Sarah’s happy face that whatever had been troubling her friend had been resolved. She’d abided by Ruby’s request not to speak to Sarah when she’d come home in tears at the weekend, and now she too wanted to know. However, the shop floor of Woolworths was not the right place. Not when there were so many customers about and they were already behind with their duties due to the regular Tuesday-morning fire practice.

‘Well, roll on dinner time, ’cos me tummy’s rumbling and I won’t do an ounce of work until I know what’s going on,’ Maisie muttered as she picked up a feather duster and half-heartedly flicked it across a row of brown earthenware teapots.

Sarah returned to her counter and turned her attention to the customers who were waiting patiently to be served. She’d not long been working on the stationery counter and was enjoying being in charge of keeping the stock tidy and helping customers with their numerous enquiries. She could see Maisie across the aisle making pretty displays with cups and saucers, and knew that Freda was only yards away working hard on her counter.

‘What the ’eck is that?’ Maisie asked, rubbing her head as a bell started to ring long and loud from the other end of the store. ‘I was under the counter fetching some bags and banged me blooming ’ead with fright.’

‘It’s the fire bell,’ Sarah said as she counted change into a customer’s hand and thanked her.

‘I can’t smell smoke. Why would anyone be ringing it now?’

Freda dashed up and took Sarah by the hand. ‘You’ve got to come now. It’s Alan.’

Both the girls followed Freda to the centre of the store, where Alan was standing on a chair, ringing the fire bell as if his life depended on it.

‘Gawd, whatever is he up to?’ Maisie puffed as she pushed Sarah past customers who had stopped to stare. A few ladies had rushed to the front doors alarmed at the prospect of a fire. Mr Benfield was holding the door open and trying to explain that to his knowledge there was nothing untoward happening in his store. He was not having much luck.

Sarah wriggled past the last of the shoppers and headed to where Alan had stepped from the chair onto a counter piled high with saucepans. ‘Alan,’ she hissed as she tugged at the hem of his brown warehouse coat. There was no point in shouting, as he wouldn’t have heard her above the din of the bell. ‘Alan, whatever are you doing?’

Alan stopped swinging the bell as he saw Sarah. He jumped to the floor, leaving the handbell behind. Sarah’s ears were still ringing. ‘Sarah, my love, sit down.’ He pushed her towards the chair he’d used to climb onto the counter, first wiping the seat clean with his sleeve.

‘For heaven’s sake, Alan, what are you doing?’ Sarah felt her cheeks burning as dozens of customers stood in a semicircle watching with puzzled looks on their faces. Colleagues had left their counters to see what the fuss was about. Sarah could just see Alan’s mother, Maureen, on the edge of the crowd. She must have come down from the staff canteen to see what was causing the noise. Sarah couldn’t understand why she had a smile on her face. Surely Mr Benfield would sack Alan for causing such a disturbance?

‘Look, Alan, I think we ought to get back to work, don’t you?’

‘Stay right there, Sarah.’