‘I wish you had let me know you were ill,’ I said and bent to kiss Pops on the cheek. He was sitting in his chair in the front parlour, but he looked very frail and I thought he probably ought to be still in bed. ‘I would have come over sooner if I had known.’
‘If you visited us now and then, you would have known Pops hasn’t been at all well for a while,’ Mrs Reece said, giving me an angry look. ‘But I suppose we are not really important to you now. You’ve forgotten us, just as you’ve forgotten Jon.’
Something in her eyes at that moment made me wonder what she had heard. I had never tried to hide my friendship with Jack, but she couldn’t know that we had become lovers on his last visit. No one else knew that for certain, though both Sol and Margaret suspected it. Neither of them would have told Mrs Reece, however.
‘That’s not fair,’ I said, controlling my urge to strike back. Losing my temper would not help anyone. ‘I shall never forget Jon. Nor you and Pops. I know I haven’t been to visit for a while, but it has been difficult. There is so much to do these days I’ve been opening a new shop with some friends, that’s besides working in the showroom and helping out at the club. I like to take James to the park on Sundays. It’s the only day I have with him.’
‘We understand,’ Pops said and caught my hand. He gave me his sweet smile. ‘I know you come when you can manage it, Emma. I wouldn’t let Dorothy telephone you, because I know you have so much to do – but I am very glad to see you now. Sit down and talk to me, my dear. Tell me what you’ve been doing …’
I did as he asked, spending far longer than I had intended with him. I would be late for work, but that would have to take second place for once. Seeing him so poorly had made me feel guilty for neglecting him. To be perfectly honest, I would have been glad of an excuse not to visit Jon’s mother, but I really loved Pops. If anything happened to him I would miss him – and it would make coming here to this house even more of a duty.
‘I really will try to visit more often,’ I promised as I kissed Pops goodbye later. ‘Take care of yourself.’
‘You take care of yourself, Emma.’ He studied my face anxiously. ‘You do look a little tired, my dear. You should take more time to relax yourself. You’re not overdoing things, are you?’
‘No …’ I sighed. ‘It’s just that I can’t sleep sometimes …’
I lay awake often at night, thinking about Jack, about the war – and all the people who were no longer with us.
Pops squeezed my hand. ‘It isn’t much of a life for you, Emma. You should get out more, enjoy yourself.’
‘At least I’m enjoying getting our new shop ready,’ I said, and smiled at him. ‘It gives me something to think about … makes things a little brighter somehow.’
‘The war will be over one of these days,’ Pops promised. ‘You are very young, Emma. There are a lot of good things out there waiting for you. You just have to be patient.’
I smiled and thanked him, but I was thoughtful as I caught a bus home. There were times, often when I was alone at night, when the waiting seemed unbearable, but there wasn’t much else we could do. We just had to make the most of what we had, and at least I had good friends – and my shop.
We called our shop Charm & Elegance, and it was an instant success.
Our first customers were all Jane’s friends, of course, but within hours we had women coming in off the street, more out of curiosity than anything else at first. However, when they saw the beautiful things we had on offer, many of them were keen to buy. Some purchased whatever took their fancy then came back the same day with a garment of their own to sell, then bought something else from the rails. They stopped for a cup of tea and a chat, and went away vowing to tell all their friends about us.
The idea of being able to part exchange their unwanted clothes seemed to amuse and intrigue everyone who came in, and the sales were even better than I had expected.
‘One woman bought three dresses from me this afternoon,’ Margaret told me when we were talking at the end of our first week. ‘Not one of them would fit her, but she has three granddaughters who are apparently very good at sewing and she was thrilled to be able to get such lovely material. The dresses all have very full skirts and I am sure her granddaughters will be able to make something rather nice with the material; she was pleased anyway.’
‘So our idea is working?’
‘Your idea, Emma.’ She smiled at me. ‘I was beginning to think we would sell out in a few weeks and have nothing left to offer, but two of Jane’s friends brought a load of dresses and costumes in this morning. Most of them are perfectly wearable for anyone a size or two smaller. One of them changed hers for a pair of evening shoes that I had never worn because they pinched my toes after I’d bought them, and the matching bag. The other lady took that black velvet cape of your grandmother’s. That was a lovely thing, Emma, and the fur trimming alone was worth the price we had put on it.’
‘Yes, it was nice,’ I agreed. ‘Gwen’s trunk turned out to be full of treasures, didn’t it? And the money I gave her was useful, even though she didn’t want to take it. Some of the dresses went back to Edwardian days. Grandmother must have bought them when she was a young woman, before she was married, and like you she hardly wore them. She had put them away so carefully that some of them could have been new. Jane wore a pretty apricot silk tea gown to a cocktail party. She said everyone thought it was wonderful, and so of course they wanted to know all about the shop.’
Margaret nodded and smiled. She was enjoying herself, as both Jane and I were. Serving in the shop was like being amongst new friends.
Sol was intrigued by our success.
‘I thought it would never work,’ he told me some weeks later. ‘But I suppose a man sees these things differently.’
‘I don’t suppose it would have caught on so well if it were not for the war,’ I said truthfully. ‘But women get very bored with wearing the same things all the time. And most of us have something that we bought before rationing came in and never wore because it just wasn’t right. In my case, it was a silk blouse that didn’t suit me. Usually, I would simply put the offending article right at the back of the wardrobe and forget it was there, but the chance to sell it and buy something else is tempting with the way things are just now.’
‘Well, you might find something you can use in the storeroom,’ Sol said looking thoughtful. ‘There are some boxes of dresses that go back twenty years or more. I’m not sure exactly what’s there – a few end of line oddments, or stock that didn’t sell and was too outdated to keep on the rails. I wrote everything off years ago, so they’re not on the books. I suppose someone might cut them up and make something out of them. You’re welcome to take whatever is there, Emma. They are of no use to me.’
‘Thank you. I’ll see what I can find.’
By the end of six weeks, most of our original stock had gone, but the rails were bulging. The idea had certainly proved popular, and we soon had a thriving little business. Quite a few of our customers were women who had lost everything when their homes were bombed.
‘We’ve been given extra coupons,’ they told us as they searched the rails for bargains. ‘But it’s so hard to find anything nice these days. Some of your things are old-fashioned but good quality. All it takes is a little time and thought to make something really smart.’
Most of the women who came in found something they liked, and often they would come back a few days later to show us what they had made from whatever they had bought.
‘You ought to advertise to buy things,’ my mother said when she came up to visit me in the spring. She had been to the shop and bought several bits and pieces she intended to use for trimming a new dress for herself. ‘If you put a little card in other shop windows, Emma, I’ll bet you would get lots more replies. I’m sure there must be no end of women with things put away who have never heard of your shop.’
‘At the moment we are buying as much as we can hold,’ I told her. ‘If I went round to people’s houses, we would need to move into bigger premises!’
I did not particularly want to expand the business. It was already taking up more of my time than I had anticipated. Besides, I believed it was a novelty. Already, some of Jane’s friends had stopped bothering to come in, but now we were getting most of our trade from the ordinary woman off the street. Besides, I was sure that once the annoying restrictions on clothing were eased, everyone would naturally prefer to buy new clothes.
However, there was no sign of that happening just yet. The war was still claiming too many ships. Our little island was suffering from the need to concentrate on importing vital supplies, and instead of easing, the shortages were getting worse. We were constantly being told we must manage with less of everything. It was no longer just a case of drawing a line on the bath to make sure we didn’t use too much water, now we were short of things like shaving soap and razor blades. Some women were using beetroot for lipstick and soot for eye make up.
Fashion was being dictated not by French designers, but by the Board of Trade in London. Hemlines were to be shorter in line with the new Utility label. We, as manufacturers, had been told to limit the number of styles we could have on offer in our showroom. However, we were still able to provide a service to customers who wished to purchase their own cloth and have it tailored to their own requirements.
The tailors of Savile Row were in demand by those wealthy clients who still required suits that might cost up to thirty guineas each, but our customers were the shopkeepers who sold to ordinary women who needed ready-made dresses, and we were bound by law to restrict our lines to very basic designs. The dresses were shorter than would have been worn a year or so earlier, the skirts usually straight without gores or flares. Sleeves were often short, and the collars were plain, the trimmings regulated to cut down on the amount of material needed. We were not allowed to produce one of our most popular dresses, which had a full, fine pleated skirt that swished as you walked.
‘I’m sorry,’ I found myself apologizing over and over again to our regular customers. ‘We can’t make that style for the time being. We’re not even allowed to use extra braiding.’
‘The government is bent on ruining us all,’ Sol complained. ‘It’s hardly worth the effort keeping going at all these days.’
It was not surprising that many women were finding ways of getting round the restrictions in whatever way they could. Good for our little shop, but soul destroying for the millions of women forced to go without. Their men were away fighting; they were finding it more and more difficult to feed their families, and now they were expected to go out to work for at least a few hours every week.
England was in the grip of austerity, and as the months wore on and the papers continued to print almost nothing but bad news, it became harder and harder to find something to be cheerful about. And yet we managed it somehow.
Jane had become a special friend, and when she discovered our social club for servicemen, she went to some trouble to find supplies of tinned foods for us and insisted on taking her turn at making the refreshments and washing up.
‘We should have a children’s party,’ Jane said when Christmas loomed on the horizon once more. ‘I think we should get someone from our embassy to play Father Christmas.’
During the summer of 1942, Sol had surprised me with the news that he had sold the factory and what remained of our government contracts.
‘We haven’t come out of it too badly,’ he told me. ‘You will have five hundred pounds to come, Emma. The rest of your investment is safe and sound, but I thought you might like to have a bit of cash to play with?’ His eyes were warm with amusement. ‘Now that you’re in business for yourself. You could open another of your shops. Have a chain of them perhaps?’ He was teasing me, of course. I had definite plans for the future, but for the moment I decided to put my money away safely. The government was urging us to buy War Bonds, but Sol refused to buy a single one himself.
‘They’ve damned near ruined me as it is,’ he said. ‘I’ll not trust them with a penny.’
I invested a few pounds out of a sense of duty, but most of the money went elsewhere.
Now that Sol no longer had the factory to worry about, he was able to spend more time in the showroom. That meant I was able to cut down my own hours, and I volunteered to do three afternoons a week answering phones for the Fire Service. Sometimes, I had to drive a control vehicle for them, and that often meant travelling through streets which had been attacked by enemy bombers. The raids were not as frequent or as heavy as during the blitz itself, but were perhaps even more devastating when they happened, not just in London but all over the country. Many of our cities were being relentlessly bombed with terrible consequences.
It seemed to me to be the worst year of the war. We had so little to look forward to and so much to fear.
Even Jack’s letters did not always get through. There were months when I heard nothing from him; then in the spring of 1943 I had six all together. Some of them had obviously been delayed.
I read them eagerly. Jack had been in action. He did not say where or when, just that he was well and hoped he might see me quite soon.
‘I can’t promise, Emma,’ he had written.
But I think I may be sent to London in a few weeks time. You never know, your bad penny might turn up one of these days …
I hoped so much that he would come, but the days passed and I heard no more and my hopes of seeing him began to fade.
‘Jane’s Christmas party for the children was such a success,’ I said to Sheila that morning. It was June and the weather was being kind to us. ‘She is talking of having another when the schools close for the holidays. Why don’t you bring Lizzy, and your cousin’s children? Jane has managed to get some sugar and we are going to have sticky toffee – there will be jellies and cakes, and various other treats. We’re going to have the party outdoors if the weather is fine, probably in the park, and then we’ll have plenty of room to organize races and games with prizes for the children.’
‘I don’t know …’ Sheila’s eyes didn’t quite meet mine. ‘I’m busy most weekends. I shall have to see what I feel like. I might bring them if I haven’t anything better to do.’
I couldn’t argue with her, though I knew she spent several evenings a week at the social club – and not just helping out either.
Pamela had complained to me about her just a couple of days earlier.
‘She doesn’t pull her weight,’ Pamela had said. ‘I know she is a friend of yours, Emma – but it’s not fair. If I’m on with her, I end up doing all the work while she’s out there dancing with the men. Or drinking …’
‘What do you mean, drinking?’
Pamela hesitated, then nodded, as if making up her mind. ‘Some of the men bring alcohol in with them. We’ve tried to stop it, Emma, but it’s impossible. Especially since the Americans have started coming. They always seem to have a bottle of bourbon, and they share it with the girls. Sheila has been very nearly drunk on a couple of occasions when she left here. I spoke to her about it once, but she told me to mind my own business. If she wasn’t your friend … well, I would have told her we didn’t need her kind here.’
I frowned. ‘What do you mean, Pamela? Her kind?’
‘Well, you know.’ Pamela had been married six years before the war started. Since then her husband, Tom, had been given home leave only once, but she had never to my knowledge looked at another man. And it wasn’t because she hadn’t had offers. All of the woman who worked at the club were asked out regularly. ‘She never goes home alone, Emma. Mostly she leaves with an American soldier these days, but if he isn’t in that night she goes with someone else.’
‘You believe she takes them home?’ I thought about it, then shook my head. ‘I’m sure she doesn’t, Pamela. She lodges with her cousin, and there are four children in the house. She wouldn’t take men there … her cousin wouldn’t stand for it, surely?’
‘Well, I’ve seen the way they look at her … and I’ve heard a couple of them laughing about her behind her back. You know the way it is, Emma. If a woman lets herself down … the men have no respect for her. Not the way they do for you.’
‘And you,’ I said, smiling at her. She was hardworking, and seldom complained. Sheila must have upset her. ‘I hope you are wrong, Pamela. We can’t stop the girls who come to the club going home with the men. We aren’t responsible for what happens when they leave, but we should stop heavy drinking if we can. That wasn’t the idea when this club was set up. It’s a social club, a decent place to meet friends. If people want to drink they should go to the pub.’
She hesitated, then, ‘Mrs Reece and a couple of the other ladies were saying we should ban any women who drink at the club. We can’t stop the men, though we can ask them not to bring spirits with them …’
‘Perhaps I should have a word with Sheila,’ I offered, knowing that was what she had hoped for all along.
‘Well, she might take it better coming from you.’
‘I shan’t say anyone told me,’ I said. ‘But I’ll change shifts with you, Pamela – so that I’m here when Sheila is supposed to be helping. If I see her drinking, I can tell her about it then.’
Now, in the showroom, I looked at Sheila, observing the changes in her face, changes I had not taken too much notice of before this. She looked pale and unhealthy, her face a little puffy, dark shadows under her eyes.
‘Are you feeling well?’ I asked. ‘You look a bit tired, Sheila. Haven’t you been sleeping?’
‘I’m all right,’ she replied, her tone abrupt, harsh. ‘As well as most people. You’re lucky, Emma. Your friends see you don’t go without, but it’s harder for the rest of us. When I leave work, I have to queue for ages to get food, that’s if there’s anything left. Anything that comes in fresh during the day is usually gone by the time I get there.’
‘You get your basic rations,’ I said, feeling a little hurt by her tone. ‘We all do, Sheila. I know I’m lucky that Jane gives me some tinned food sometimes, but it isn’t that often, and I always share it with everyone. Most of the time, we have to manage on what we can get from the shops the same as everyone else. I queue most days, too. Usually as soon as the shops open. It’s best to go first thing, before you come to work.’
‘I’m too tired to be out that early,’ Sheila said. ‘Lizzy cries half the night. She drives me crazy …’
Why didn’t I believe her? I had the feeling that she was lying, that there was another reason entirely for her being too tired to go shopping early in the morning.
I found the idea that Sheila was letting herself drift into bad ways upsetting. It would have been easy for any woman to take that road these days. The Americans seemed to have so much money, far more than our own men, and they often had luxuries that we simply could not buy. Wonderful stockings that made anything on sale in our shops look dowdy, and chocolate, even perfume so I had been told.
Hardly surprising then that the girls liked to be with them. I knew there had been a few scuffles in the club between British soldiers and their American allies. It was usually over a girl and so far nothing terrible had happened, but that was because we had never served alcohol. If some of the men were bringing spirits in with them, it could make tempers flare out of control.
‘You’re on tonight at the club, aren’t you?’ I asked, looking at Sheila. She nodded, her mouth sulky, turned down at the corners. ‘I shall see you there then. I’ve changed shifts with Pamela.’
‘Why?’ Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘I suppose she has been gossiping about me?’
‘I’m not sure what you mean, Sheila? Why should she gossip about you?’
Sheila looked angry, but the doorbell went at that moment and two customers came into the shop together. For the next hour we were both busy serving, making out invoices and having the customers’ purchases packed in the cardboard boxes they had brought with them.
In the past we had always provided new boxes, but these days our customers helped out by bringing back their old ones.
When at last they had gone, the opportunity to talk was over. It was time for me to leave for my fire duty.
‘I’ll see you this evening then,’ I said to Sheila. ‘Don’t be late. We’re cooking corned beef hash tonight. Jane sent me a box of tinned stuff and I’ve had a sack of potatoes delivered. It will take a while to peel the carrots and spuds. The men enjoy a cooked meal, and it’s only a whist drive tonight.’
‘I’m not sure I shall be able to come,’ she said, her eyes evading mine. ‘Lizzy wasn’t well this morning. If she’s no better I might have to stay home with her. Annie has to have some free time. She hasn’t been out for ages. If I were you, Emma, I should telephone Pamela and ask her to come in.’
I stared at her, but there was nothing I could say to compel her. All our efforts at the club were voluntary. No one could force Sheila to come and help us out.
‘I’ll come in on Saturday,’ she said. ‘It’s a dance then. I like helping out on Saturdays.’
I went out and left her without a word. I did not believe for one moment that her daughter was unwell, but it was Sheila’s choice. If she did not want to come to the club that night there was nothing I could do to persuade her.
Pamela agreed to come in and help, even though her sister was visiting and she had arranged to go to the pictures with her that evening.
‘It’s too much for you to do alone,’ she said. ‘Especially as it’s the night for a cooked meal. Of course I’ll come – though I don’t believe Sheila’s daughter is ill. She has used that particular excuse before, several times in fact.’
Pamela and I were kept busy with the cooking and serving for most of the evening. Afterwards, we left the dishes soaking in hot water while we went out to listen to one of the men singing sentimental songs. Some of them had really nice voices, and quite often they would find someone to play the piano and give us an impromptu concert.
That evening, the singer was an American. He had a strong voice and had been crooning Thanks for that Lovely Weekend, but now he had upped the tempo and was belting out, Ma I love your Apple Pie.
Everyone clapped enthusiastically. We liked nothing better than when the men got together for a sing song round the piano. When he had finished, another man took his place and starting singing about the White Cliffs of Dover.
‘Hi …’ The American who had just left the piano tapped me on the shoulder. ‘You’re Emma … I’ve heard about you from a mutual friend.’
‘Oh …’ I raised my brows. ‘Who was that? Jane Melcher?’
He shook his head. ‘No, Miss Sheila Tomms. She says she knows you from way back …’ He glanced round the room. ‘I was expecting to see her here this evening. I’m sure she said she would be here. Any particular reason why she didn’t come?’
I was about to tell him Sheila’s daughter was ill, then checked myself. If Sheila was calling herself by her maiden name she might not want him to know she had been married – or that she had a child. It was not for me to tell him the truth.
‘I’m not sure why she couldn’t make it,’ I said. ‘But she said she would be here on Saturday.’
He frowned. ‘I probably shan’t be around by then. I guess it doesn’t matter. It leaves me at a loose end this evening though … any chance of you coming out with me after you’ve finished here? I know a place where the drinks are good …’
‘It’s very nice of you to ask me,’ I replied. ‘But I don’t go out with any of the men. I have someone special …’
‘I’m glad to hear that, Emma.’
As I heard the teasing voice behind me, I spun round in surprise, hardly believing it as I saw him standing there in his uniform.
‘Oh, Jack,’ I cried. ‘Jack my darling … you’re back. You’re back!’
I flung myself into his arms, and he caught me to him, kissing me passionately right there in front of everyone. There was a rousing cheer from the men watching, which made me blush as Jack let me go.
‘Sorry, General,’ the soldier who had asked me out said, looking awkward. ‘I didn’t know the lady belonged to you.’ He saluted smartly, obviously shocked to find himself in such exalted company.
‘At ease, soldier,’ Jack said, smiling easily. ‘If Emma had said yes, you might have found yourself on the way to the Pacific pronto, but as she said no I’ll excuse you.’
The soldier grinned and moved away. I looked at Jack, my heart racing, still unable to believe that he was actually here at last.
‘I’ve missed you so much,’ I said. ‘Your letters haven’t been arriving as often or as promptly as they used to … I wasn’t sure if you were really coming to London.’
‘Nor was I,’ he admitted ruefully. He touched my cheek with his fingertips. ‘There have been delays and problems, Emma. However, I am here now and I’m staying for at least a month, maybe more. As it happens, I have the next ten days free. I arranged it that way so that we could be together. I hope that is OK by you?’
‘Of course it is,’ I said, thrilled at the prospect of being with him again. ‘Have we really got ten whole days, Jack? No business deals, no important meetings?’
‘None at all. I thought we might go away somewhere?’
‘Yes, please!’
‘How long before you’re finished here?’
‘I must help Pamela with the washing up,’ I said. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to go off and leave it all to her. Talk to the men, Jack. Amuse yourself for twenty minutes … OK?’
‘Fine,’ he said, and smiled. ‘I play the piano – is it all right if I have a go?’
‘I’m sure it is,’ I said. ‘Go ahead. I can hear you while I’m working in the kitchen.’
I went though to the kitchen as Jack sat down at the piano and began to play, bright, cheerful tunes that the men could sing along with. Pamela looked at me as I began to wash the stacks of dirty plates and glasses. ‘Why don’t you go and leave this to me?’ she asked. ‘You always do your share, Emma. I wouldn’t mind finishing off alone.’
‘No, I shan’t do that,’ I replied, smiling at her. ‘It wouldn’t be fair on you, Pamela. Besides, Jack seems to be enjoying himself for the moment – and we’ve got ten days to be together.’
‘Is that him playing now?’ I nodded and Pamela went to the door to listen. ‘He could be a professional. He’s good …’
‘I think Jack is good at anything he does,’ I replied. I looked at her seriously. ‘I was going to speak to Sheila this evening if she had come in, Pamela. I shan’t be around now for a few days, but if you get any more trouble with her, let me know when I come back. I will speak to her then, see if I can sort things out.’
Pamela blushed. ‘Maybe I was going on about it a bit too much,’ she said. ‘I suppose it’s hard for her, living with her cousin and no husband. Maybe there’s no harm in her having a boyfriend. I shouldn’t judge everyone by my standards.’
‘There’s no harm in her having friends, but she still shouldn’t drink here,’ I said. ‘She knows the rules, Pamela. If she does it again this weekend, I’ll talk to her about it again.’
‘All right.’ Pamela smiled at me, relaxing now. ‘Enjoy your holiday. Do you know where you’re going?’
‘I have no idea – but it would be lovely by the sea if the weather stays like this.’
‘Yes. I was thinking I would like to get away this year. My sister is visiting me now, but has invited me to visit when she goes home to Hunstanton. I might go down there for a few days if I can manage it.’
‘Yes, I should if I were you. It makes everyone feel better to get away for a while.’
I had finished washing the dishes. I dried my hands, picked up my coat and went into the other room. Jack saw me and stood up. There were cries of disappointment as he left the piano, but it was late and the club would be closing very soon now.
As I went outside with Jack, I glimpsed a woman standing in a shop doorway across the street. She turned away as she saw me, but I was sure it was Sheila. Obviously, after telling me that she needed to stay home, she had not dared to come into the club, but was waiting here in the hope of meeting her American soldier …
‘Something wrong, Emma?’
I glanced up at Jack, then shook my head. ‘No, nothing, nothing at all. Everything is wonderful now you are here.’
‘We’re going to have fun,’ he promised, bending his head to kiss me briefly on the lips. ‘I promise you, Emma. The next few days are going to be great.’
I smiled and hugged his arm as he opened his car door for me to get in, tucking my dress in carefully before shutting the door again. As we drove away, the lights flashed full on Sheila for a moment as she ran across the road to meet someone, and I knew it was definitely her.
I was sorry that she had thought it necessary to lie about her daughter being ill that night, but I could not blame her for wanting to meet the man she loved. It was really no different from my wanting to be with Jack – and there was no reason why Sheila should not go out with any man she wanted. She was a widow and perfectly free to love where she chose.
I was glad I had not said anything to her at the showroom. Pamela had already admitted that she might have made too much of things. Sheila ought not to get drunk at the club, of course. She knew our rules. Besides, she was only laying up trouble for herself – but that was really her own business.
It was not for me or Pamela to judge her. Pamela’s husband might be away fighting, but she heard from him regularly. And I had Jack. Who were we to dictate what Sheila could do with her own life?