The Woolworths Girls (19 page)

‘What, never? Why’s that?’ Maisie asked, grabbing Sarah’s shoulder to balance herself as the lorry bumped over a hole in the road.

‘’Cos I come from the Midlands and it’s in the middle of the country, that’s why,’ Freda hissed back indignantly.

‘Blimey, I never thought of it like that,’ Maisie said, nudging Queen Sarah, who was trying not to listen to her friends and to remember all that Betty Billington had told her about the rest of her duties.

‘What do you think “midland” means, you dunce? We lived miles from the sea, and not having much money, we didn’t get to have days out and such. I spotted the poster for Margate and Dreamland at Charing Cross Station and thought that it was somewhere I’d go to one day. Fat lot of chance of that, what with working all hours.’

‘All right, keep your hair on,’ Maisie hissed back. ‘It’s only the seaside.’

‘It might be “only the seaside” to you, but it would be heaven to me. I’ll most likely never get to paddle in the sea or eat cockles and all.’ Freda looked sad.

‘Well, pin that smile back on yer face or you’ll be for it if Mr Benfield catches you looking miserable. I’ll see what I can do to get you to the seaside.’

‘Really? You’d do that for me?’ Freda jumped up and down, waving to the crowd frantically as the lorry pulled to a halt in front of Woolies. ‘I can’t believe it. When? When can we go?’

Sarah looked around for Mr Benfield. Surely he would see that Freda’s mind wasn’t on her duties. ‘Look out, you two. Mr Benfield is on his way over. Freda, we’ll sort out your trip later. Let’s finish the job in hand, shall we?’

Freda calmed down as they alighted from the lorry, assisted by their beaming manager. They stood on the pavement watching as the Dagenham Girl Pipers marched by, resplendent in their brightly coloured kilts and playing well-known marching tunes on the bagpipes. Following behind were local groups of Brownies and Scouts, as well as the nurses that could be spared from Erith Cottage Hospital, where the fete was in progress. The plan was to return to the hospital and attend the fete once Queen Sarah had toured the store and greeted the staff and customers. Mr Benfield, accompanied by the mayor, led Sarah and her entourage into the shop, to much cheering from the staff. Sarah blushed with embarrassment. If she’d known that there was going to be so much fuss, she would have declined the invitation to be the carnival queen. Inside the shop, she sat on a specially made throne, while the mayor made a speech thanking F. W. Woolworth, which was followed by Mr Benfield and staff demonstrating their skills with firefighting material and gas masks.

Betty sidled up to Sarah as she was watching Alan skilfully putting out a pretend fire, much to the mirth of the Brownies, who were enjoying a bag of sweets each courtesy of Woolies. ‘You do look pretty, Sarah. You all do,’ she added, turning to Maisie and Freda. ‘I can’t thank you enough for volunteering to help.’

Maisie gave the girls a wink behind their boss’s back. All three knew that if there had been any volunteering involved, they’d have been hiding at the back of the queue. ‘I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say we wouldn’t have missed this for all the tea in China, ducks . . . er, Betty . . . I mean, Miss Billington.’

Betty patted Maisie’s hand. ‘Betty will be fine for today, and please, you must think of me as a friend, as we will all be bridesmaids together very soon.’

‘Only three weeks to go now,’ Freda added. ‘It will be Sarah’s twenty-first birthday as well, so it’s twice as special.’

Betty nodded. ‘Yes, the third of September will indeed be a day for rejoicing. I haven’t looked forward to something so much since I don’t know when. Now, let’s get you girls a cool drink before you climb aboard your chariot and head back to the cottage hospital and the fete.’

Maisie rubbed her backside and grimaced. ‘Chariot? I could have sworn it was Clarke’s coal lorry we were riding on, and it was none too comfortable either. I’m sure my seat was a bag of nutty slack.’

14

‘Now, now, love, you’ve got to stop this crying. Your Alan is not going to be too pleased to see his bride walking up the aisle with puffy eyes and a red nose, now is he? Just unlock the door and let me in, there’s a love. You still have birthday presents to open downstairs and a few more cards to read. People have been so generous. I’ve got a nice cup of tea for you with a dash of brandy in it to perk you up. There’s a couple of slices of toast as well, as you missed your breakfast with all this hoo-ha going on.’

Ruby heard muttering from behind the bedroom door and then the key turning in the lock. A worried Freda opened the door and whispered, ‘It’s gonna take a lot to convince Sarah to get married today. I hope you can talk her into it. She’s refusing to put on her wedding dress.’

Ruby entered the crowded bedroom and placed the tea and toast on top of a chest of drawers, moving a photograph of Sarah and Alan in the process. The image showed the young couple standing close together. Their eyes were full of love as they gazed at each other, caught by a photographer in Dreamland. Was it only weeks ago that her granddaughter had returned from her day trip to Margate so full of plans for the future?

She sat beside Sarah on the bed and took her hand. ‘Now, love, there’s no reason for you not to go ahead with the wedding. The whole day is planned, and who is to say that this radio announcement is going to tell us war has started with Germany? I reckon it’s all a load of rubbish.’

Maisie reached for her cigarettes and offered them to Sarah.

‘Not in here, Maisie. The smoke will make my dress smell.’

‘It’s not going to matter if you ain’t wearing it,’ Maisie pointed out as she put a cigarette between her own lips and reached for her lighter.

‘Perhaps go downstairs and smoke that, eh, Maisie?’ Betty said. ‘You could let Sarah’s mother know how Sarah is feeling.’

Maisie sniffed but did as she was asked. She wasn’t keen on going to chat with Irene Caselton, but Betty was still her boss, even if she was sitting in Sarah’s bedroom covered from neck to toe in her dressing gown and admiring her recently polished nails.

She looked at the dainty watch on her wrist. ‘OK, but don’t forget the prime minister is on the wireless before too long and we don’t want to miss that.’ She saw Sarah’s startled look and added quickly, ‘Not that we know what it is he is going to tell us. He might just be telling the country that it’s Sarah and Alan’s wedding day.’

Sarah’s face broke into a sad smile. She knew her friend was trying to cheer her up, but it would take a lot to make her happy today, and even more for her to step into her wedding gown. Why of all days did this have to happen today? She’d woken early in such good spirits, only to hear that the prime minister, Neville Chamberlain, was going to broadcast to the nation at a quarter past eleven. Everything had gone downhill after that, with Vera dashing round full of excitement to tell them all that war was going to be declared this very day and that no doubt no one would want to go to a wedding. Nan had sent their neighbour packing with a flea in her ear, but by then Sarah had fled to her bedroom, followed by her bridesmaids, where no amount of coaxing would convince her that the wedding should go ahead. How could she celebrate the happiest day of her life when the country was possibly going to war? It didn’t seem right somehow, and it seemed wrong for her to be happy when so many people would be waving off loved ones as they joined the forces and left home – possibly for good.

‘Someone ought to let the guests know that the wedding has been cancelled.’ She looked at her nan, who was still holding her hand. ‘Can you let Alan know, please, Nan?’

Ruby nodded and got to her feet, beckoning Freda to follow her.

‘Well, this is a right to-do,’ Ruby exclaimed as she joined her son and daughter-in-law in the front room. ‘I’m at my wits’ end trying to think how we can convince Sarah to go ahead with the wedding. I feel for the girl, I really do, and on her twenty-first birthday as well.’

‘Thank goodness we didn’t book the golf club for the wedding breakfast. I wouldn’t have been able to face my friends after all this. At least there’s been no money wasted.’

Ruby puffed up her chest ready to give Irene what for, but George beat her to it.

‘Now, Irene, I’ve kept my mouth shut these past few weeks, but I think this time it needs saying. You’ve just insulted not only my mother with your words but also young Freda here. Everyone’s worked hard to put on a wedding fit for a queen, and whether it’s at a bloody golf club or Buckingham Palace it doesn’t matter. What concerns me is that our daughter is upstairs right now crying her eyes out and wants to cancel what should be the happiest day of her life. Now stop being such a snob and put your thinking cap on so we can decide what to do.’ He ignored his wife’s gasps and his mother’s snort of laughter and looked at the clock. ‘There’s still three-quarters of an hour before the broadcast. Let’s listen to what Neville Chamberlain has to say and then we can move forward. The wedding’s not until three o’clock and I’m of the opinion that we have time to make Sarah change her mind.’

Ruby nodded. ‘I’m with you there. I’ll put the kettle on. We might need a cuppa while we listen. George, you ought to warm up the wireless so it’s ready in time.’

Freda, who had been standing quietly listening to Sarah’s family, wondered what her own family would be doing at this time. It was Sunday and normally they’d all be heading for the pub. As for her brother, she only hoped that he was safe somewhere. It was nine months since she’d received his letter with the postmark ‘Erith’ that had brought her to this town. ‘Can I suggest something?’

George nodded to the young girl. He’d come to like Freda, and whenever he was working in Erith would treat her like a second daughter, taking her and Sarah to the pictures and joining in with their lively conversations at the dinner table. ‘Go ahead, love.’

‘I think that the only person who can talk Sarah round is Alan. I want to go and tell him what’s happening.’

‘What a silly idea. Everyone knows that the groom shouldn’t see the bride before the wedding.’ Irene Caselton frowned at Freda.

‘Well, there ain’t going to be a wedding if someone don’t do something. I reckon Freda’s idea is spot on. I’ll come with you to get him. He can talk to Sarah from the other side of the door if that makes you feel any better,’ Maisie snarled at Irene. ‘Come on, let’s get our coats and go find the groom.’

George tapped on the bedroom door before entering. Sarah was sitting on the bed staring into space. Fresh tears were scattered on her cheeks. Betty had been tidying up the room and had hung the wedding gown on the side of the large mahogany wardrobe. George recognized the wardrobe as it had been in his bedroom when he was a lad. Apart from the furniture from his boyhood, it was now a very feminine room. His daughter had made her mark on the little space, which overlooked the back garden, where a row of similar-sized plots now had Anderson shelters in pride of place, with cabbages and potato plants replacing rows of gladioli and chrysanthemum.

He stopped to look at the layers of white silk that had been so carefully stitched together by Maisie. ‘Your friend has a remarkable talent. I would have been so proud to walk you down the aisle, my dear, but it’s your decision not to marry. You’re twenty-one today and that makes you an adult. An adult who can make her own decisions. Don’t worry too much about all the people who worked hard to make your wedding day special. I’m sure they will understand,’ he said nonchalantly, before checking his watch. ‘Ten minutes to go before Mr Chamberlain’s broadcast. I’d better go check the wireless set. Your nan does like to twiddle with the knobs, and today isn’t the day to miss such an important announcement.’ George kissed Sarah’s cheek, placed his pipe in his mouth and left the bedroom.

Sarah closed her eyes as a great weariness overcame her. She could hear her dad’s footsteps as he went downstairs and her mum’s shrill tones as she called him into the front room. She ran her hands through her hair and gazed at Betty, who had sat quietly on a stool in front of the dressing table observing what had gone on in Sarah’s bedroom.

‘Oh, Betty, it’s such a mess, and now Dad is disappointed in me. Whatever should I do?’

Betty knelt on the floor in front of Sarah and took both of her hands in her own. ‘Sarah, do you mind if I give you some advice?’

Sarah nodded. ‘Yes, please. I do value your opinion.’

‘I’m led to understand that on the day a girl marries, she will be worrying over many things. The months that lead up to the big day can be exciting, but the day itself marks many changes in her life. She is leaving home as a daughter, and granddaughter, and will be planning a new life with her husband in a new home. You also have your twenty-first birthday today, another excitement, and to top it all we’ve had the build-up to this bloody war.’

Sarah raised her eyebrows. She had never heard her boss swear before.

‘Of course, I’ve never experienced being married, but I know that after I wrote to Charlie to say I was wrong not to have married him before he left for France and that I’d marry him upon his return, I did experience that stir of excitement as I planned our wedding. Of course, it wasn’t to be.’ Betty stopped talking, lost in thoughts of what might have been. ‘I just wish that I’d not been such a fool and had married him before he went off to war.’