During the grace period that Miss Frobisher had negotiated with Mr Marlow, Lily’s opinion of her new colleague didn’t change. In fact, the more she found out about Nancy, the more she admired her – and the worse she felt.
‘My dad was in the Territorials,’ Nancy explained as they swapped the position of a three-arm and a four-arm rail. The winter stock was beginning to dribble in. It was in paltry amounts, but it was still an excuse for a change-around. ‘So he went straight off in ’39. But they got him at Dunkirk.’
‘Oh Nancy! I’m sorry. How awful.’
‘Yeah. We heard afterwards that he got off the beach … but the ship he was on got struck before they’d hardly left the jetty and he was drowned.’
Lily shivered at the thought. So near and yet so far.
‘The worst of it was,’ Nancy went on, but matter-of-factly, rather than in a way that smacked of ‘poor little me’, ‘my mum found herself someone else – or she’d been seeing him all along, I don’t know. But she married him pretty darn quick. He came to live with us and it was clear from the start he didn’t want me around. So I joined up. Added a year onto my age, and it was no questions asked at that time, they were that desperate.’
Lily had told Nancy about her frustrated attempt to join the ATS and how she’d been told she was ‘too late’ as the war was nearly over.
‘But you’ve come back to Hinton even so?’
‘Oh, my mum and stepdad have moved away.’ Nancy bent and screwed the upright more firmly into the splay-legged stand. ‘They’re near my sister up north now. Her and my mum always got on better. I was a daddy’s girl.’
Lily knew it was often the way. Her own father had died when she was a baby, but her mother had always said that in those few short months Lily had been the apple of his eye.
‘So I’m lodging with my Auntie Marge and Uncle Bert. It’s good of them to take me in, ’cos we’ve never been close. But it’s only for now, till we know what’s happening here.’ She looked at Lily and pulled a face. ‘It’s awkward isn’t it, both of us the same grade, and both with a right, sort of, to the job.’
Lily swallowed uneasily. ‘Maybe we should have a duel,’ she said. ‘Hatpins at dawn!’
They both laughed, but time was ticking on. Someone was going to have to make way.
The following Sunday, Lily had arranged to meet Gladys and the twins in the park. Everyone still called it the park, but for the last six years it had been almost entirely turned over to allotments, and that wasn’t going to change in the near future. The papers and the wireless were full of grim news about rationing having to continue for many months, maybe even for years. The situation in Europe was dire, and with winter approaching, some of Britain’s food stocks would have to be sent there. Things at home were going to get even tougher. Dora often said she didn’t know what she’d do without the vegetables Jim grew in their backyard.
The park’s duck pond, though, had been restocked with a few mallards and was still a prime destination for migrating Canada geese. Lily wondered if the birds would survive the winter, or find their way onto someone’s dinner table, but for now they were a source of delight to Joy and Victor. The twins were on their walking reins, Gladys holding Victor’s strap, Lily clutching Joy’s, so they could haul the children back from the water’s edge when they strayed too close.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Lily told her friend when the twins had flung the few crusts which Gladys could spare into the water. ‘Shouldn’t I do the noble thing and give way to her?’
‘Noble? You’d be mad! Why should you?’ Gladys was indignant. ‘I can’t understand why she’s been taken back on when loads of others who had a job at Marlows before the war have been turned away! What’s so special about Nancy blooming Broad anyway?’
‘She’s a very good worker,’ Lily acknowledged.
‘My Bill’s a good worker, but he can’t find a decent job!’
Gladys was normally so even-tempered, but if it came to defending ‘her Bill’ or her children, she was a lioness.
Bill had been sorely disappointed in his search for work: all he’d been offered were casual labouring jobs. There were enough of those around with the number of bomb sites that had to be cleared, but he was having to travel to where the work was. He’d just picked up a job in Birmingham – there was plenty of bomb damage there – and had left earlier that day to stay in a hostel. He’d be away the whole week.
The lack of work for him in Hinton was a big disappointment for Gladys too. Having missed their early months, she’d expected Bill would finally be at home to see his children grow up and to enjoy family life. If this was going to be the pattern from now on, Gladys would be left coping with the twins – and her grumpy gran – on her own again.
‘I know, and it’s such a pity for you both,’ Lily sighed. ‘But Nancy’s had a hard time of it. She’s lost both parents one way or another, and she’s so nice. She mucks in, she’s never tried to get one over on me, she’s lovely with the customers …’
‘Well, I think you’ve gone soft,’ declared Gladys. ‘Possession’s nine tenths of the law, that’s what they say, isn’t it? You sit tight!’
At that point, Victor took a reckless step towards the water and both Gladys and Lily lunged to rescue him. As they gently coaxed the twins away from the pond’s attractions and back to the pushchair, Lily reflected that they’d done well to have any conversation at all. It was usually impossible to get through a sentence without an interruption from the twins. Children were delightful, but they weren’t half hard work.
‘What was the matter with you? You were tossing and turning all night!’ Jim asked as they walked to work next day. It was late September, and the mornings, though still bright, were starting to have that unmistakable nip in the air.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ said Lily. ‘I was thinking.’
Jim tucked her arm closer through his. He had a pretty good idea what must have been bothering her.
‘Go on,’ he said.
‘Two into one won’t go,’ said Lily simply. ‘There’s only room for one first sales on the department, and no other vacancies in the store at that level. So if I’m going to make way for Nancy, and in all conscience I feel I should – then I’m going to have to take the plunge and leave.’
Jim stopped dead.
‘You’d do that?’
‘There are other shops in Hinton! Marks and Spencer, … Boots, even, or Woolworth’s … and the smaller ones as well.’
Lily tailed off. Now she’d said the words out loud, she knew that leaving Marlows was the last thing she wanted to do. Jim knew it too.
‘They don’t all sell children’s clothes and that’s the bulk of your experience.’
‘I know that. I’ll have to adapt.’ Lily had recovered her resolve and started walking again to show it. ‘It’s not as if I haven’t worked on other departments. And it wouldn’t hurt me to broaden my experience.’
Jim looked at her sidelong.
‘Yes, right. Say it often enough, you might even come to believe it.’
‘Oh, you’re not helping’! Lily flared. ‘Wave your magic wand then, and create me a job at Marlows!’
They were turning the corner now, and there, like a totem, was Marlows itself, with its elegant 1920s facade, its windows – now free of the ugly bomb-proof tape – gleaming in the sun, its name picked out in black and gold.
Jim turned Lily to face him, holding her by the elbows.
‘There’s a few days to go before Mr Marlow’s deadline is up,’ he said. ‘Hang on till then. Don’t do anything rash.’
‘Me? Rash?’ Lily laughed – their shared past held some pretty good examples of her impetuousness. Then she sobered, leaning her forehead against the rough tweed of his overcoat. ‘I just want to do the right thing, Jim.’
‘I know you do.’ Jim lifted her head and kissed her. ‘And I love you for it.’
Miss Frobisher was closeted with a rep, Miss Temple was in the stockroom, Nancy was on early dinner and Lily was counting a bag of pennies into the drawer of the till. Cash tills on every department instead of the old pneumatic tubes were at least one thing they had to show for the end of the war.
‘Lily! Lily!’
Lily looked up. Jim was speeding towards her, his face alive with excitement.
‘I couldn’t get away before,’ he gabbled, ‘we had a delivery, but it’s happened! The Hand of Fate has intervened!’
‘What are you talking about?’
Lily closed the cash drawer and placed the little cloth bag under the counter.
‘The magic wand that you were talking about! Miss Miller’s handed in her notice!’
Miss Miller, a mature lady of fifty, worked on Small Household, which came under Jim’s department.
‘Really? Why?’
‘Her husband’s got a job in Scotland! So she’s got to move up there with him!’
‘Oh! So you’re thinking … her husband’s old job here might suit Bill?’
‘No, her husband’s some kind of engineer, it’s nothing Bill could do! I’m thinking about you, silly!’
‘Why?’ Light dawned on Lily. Miss Miller was first sales grade. ‘Oh, I see … you mean for me to take her job? But Mr Marlow would never let you and me work on the same department, being married!’
‘I know that,’ said Jim patiently. ‘But there’s no reason why Nancy can’t transfer, is there?’
Lily put her hands to her cheeks.
‘Oh Jim! That would be wonderful!’
She looked swiftly left and right. There was no one senior in sight and she reached up and gave him a quick kiss.
‘Well!’ exclaimed Jim. ‘I thought it was “don’t shoot the messenger”, but I’m not complaining!’
And so, after all Lily’s agonising, a solution had appeared. Nancy had been away from Childrenswear for long enough not to feel the kind of emotional attachment that Lily had to the department: she didn’t care where she worked in the store, she said, as long as she had a job.
‘There’s so much to learn,’ she marvelled when she came back to Childrenswear, flushed and excited after a morning getting to know the Small Household stock. ‘It covers everything! Teaspoons and tray cloths, trinket trays and Thermos flasks – when you can get them … All those prices to remember and where everything’s kept … My head hasn’t spun this much since they tested us on all the stripes and pips on Army uniforms!’
Her enthusiasm was infectious.
‘You do make it sound exciting. I’m quite envious now!’ Lily smiled.
‘No, you’re best suited where you are,’ said Nancy, calming down. ‘I can see that. But me, I’ve got used to moving around these past few years. After nearly a month on here, I was starting to get itchy feet. But I shall settle down now and be sensible. I’ll have to, with your Jim looking over my shoulder – I bet he’ll be cracking the whip!’
‘You’ve no idea,’ warned Lily. ‘You should see what I have to put up with at home!’
Miss Miller said her goodbyes, Nancy moved department, and with Lily’s position on Childrenswear secure, she and Jim were happier than ever. She was even humming ‘Sentimental Journey’ when she and Jim pushed the back door open one evening to find Dora sitting stock-still at the table. She’d obviously been crying.
‘Mum?’ Lily asked anxiously, dropping her bag on a chair. ‘What it is? It’s not Reg, is it, or Sid? Has something happened?’
Dora shook her head.
‘It’s not the boys,’ she said.
Jim tactfully took himself off upstairs. Lily peeled off her coat and sat down next to her mother.
‘So tell me.’
Dora reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out a letter. She pushed it towards Lily over the faded seersucker cloth – a flimsy airmail envelope with a Canadian stamp. It was from Sam, of course.
Lily took the letter out and unfolded it.
Dear Dora
I hope you and the family are well. I’ll keep this brief, if you don’t mind, because it’s not great news. Grace died earlier this week. Her end was peaceful, which is a blessing as she had had so many struggles in the past few years since the loss of our son, and how it affected her mentally. She was never going to be the woman she was before, so perhaps the cancer was a merciful release.
I hope you are all doing OK. I gather from the news that things are not much easier in Britain even though the war is over, and that rationing is in fact even worse. I will continue to send what help I can in the form of food parcels, as long as you are happy to receive them. I loved the photographs, by the way, that you sent of Lily and Jim’s wedding – it looked a very special day for you all.
With my best wishes,
Your friend,
Sam
Lily put the letter down.
‘Oh, Mum. We knew it was coming, but …’
‘That doesn’t make it any easier.’ Dora finished the sentence. ‘That poor woman, how she’s suffered. But it’s Sam I feel for, all on his own.’
‘Well, yes, but he’s a strong person, Mum. And to be honest, he’s been on his own since he went back to Canada. It’s not as if he and Grace had been living together, not for years, with her – well, having a breakdown.’
‘I know, love, I know. But it’s hard when there’s nothing I can do to help him from over here.’ Dora took the letter back and put it in her pocket. ‘Anyway, I must pull myself together and get the tea on. Jim’ll be starving.’
‘Don’t worry about him! Do you want me to do the tea tonight?’
As she and Jim had come through the kitchen, there’d been the smell of stew, so that meant only the potatoes to prepare.
‘No, no.’ Dora stood up and automatically tucked her chair back under the table. Even in distress she still liked everything neat and tidy. ‘The stew’s made – lentils again, I’m afraid. I’ve only got the dumplings to drop in. And I’d rather have something to do.’
Lily nodded. She understood.
She watched her mum go and heard the familiar noises from the kitchen, the flour bin fetched from the larder, the crock mixing bowl and the old metal scales got out. Poor Sam – and poor Mum. Dora had always stoutly maintained that she and Sam were just good friends, but Lily had a strong suspicion there could have been something more – much more – between them, if things had been different.
With a sigh, she got up, went to the sideboard and got out the worn cork-backed mats. She dealt them out on the table, then went back for the cruet. In good times or bad, life had to go on. The war had taught her that.