6

Freda pulled her scarf closer around her head as she headed down the road from Mitchell’s into the High Street to where Maisie’s Modes was situated. Although she was walking beside Maisie, she was deep in thought about her friend’s business. To think Maisie had been a sales assistant and had started at Woolies at the same time as her in December 1938, and now had two shops and a clothing factory to her name. It made her wonder if she too should have done something with her life rather than remain at Woolies, working her way up to supervisor before marrying Tony and moving to the Midlands when he was promoted to temporary manager. Now she was back in Erith and expecting their second child.

‘A penny for them?’ Maisie said as she tucked her arm through Freda’s. ‘You are miles away.’

‘I was thinking how our lives have changed since we first knew each other. You’ve done so well for yourself.’

‘You’ve not done so badly. When I think of that timid waif and stray that I first met and then look at you now.’

Freda laughed. ‘I’ve turned into a baby elephant.’

‘An adorable baby elephant who is a wonderful mother. Now get yourself inside the shop. That wind is fair whipping off the river and freezing my bones.’

Freda chuckled, before pulling away to investigate the window of the clothing shop. ‘You’ve made this look wonderful. I’ve never seen it so crammed with clothes.’

‘And all made in my factory. I’ve put the second-hand stuff in a room at the back of the shop for now,’ she said, pulling her friend inside the shop and closing the door on the biting wind. ‘You’ll catch your death out there.’

Freda sat down gratefully on the chair a sales lady offered to her, then unbuttoned her coat. ‘Thank you, I don’t think we’ve met before,’ she said, giving the elderly woman a smile.

‘This is Yvonne; she usually works down the factory, but I asked her to give me a hand with the stock I brought over. Thanks for clearing up all our mess; the shop looks spick and span now.’

‘I enjoy doing it,’ she replied. ‘It’s nice to see the clothes we make being sold. Those maternity clothes look good on the mannequin. I sold two maternity tops and a skirt just now.’

‘Show me, show me,’ Freda begged. ‘The waistband on my skirt is cutting into me and I can’t let it out any more.’

‘Shall I show the stock to your friend, Mrs Carlisle?’

‘No, I’ll do that. You get yourself off home. There’ll be a little something extra in your pay packet on Friday as my way of saying thank you,’ Maisie replied as the grateful woman put on her coat and left the shop.

‘You are good to your staff.’

‘I’ve found that if I look after them, they look after me by working that little bit harder. Besides, I like the people I’ve hired and want them to stay. Now, look at this,’ she said, wheeling the mannequin closer to where Freda was sitting.

‘Oh, I adore the colour of this maternity smock,’ she said, running her fingers over the blue gingham fabric. ‘The white collar and bow set it off so nicely.’

‘I have other colours with full-length sleeves, and some don’t have such wide collars,’ Maisie said, going to a rack and flicking through the hangers, stopping to pull out an array of pretty outfits. ‘I have dresses and formal wear in production, and by the summer we will have a full range, including sun dresses.’

Freda screwed up her nose. ‘I’d almost want to remain pregnant longer, just to wear the super clothes you make. May I try this one on?’

Maisie took a deep-red smock with large white buttons down the front from the hanger and handed it to Freda. ‘Hang on a minute and I’ll give you a hand,’ she said, going to the door and turning the sign to ‘Closed’.

Freda hurriedly pulled off her outer clothes. ‘I can slip it on over my blouse,’ she said, holding out her arms for Maisie to help her into the voluminous garment. ‘Oh, it’s too long for me,’ she sighed. ‘I wish I was taller, like you.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ Maisie said, reaching for a pincushion and holding several pins between her teeth. ‘Stand in front of the full-length mirror while I pin up the bottom to the length you prefer. Then you can make us a cup of tea while I stitch the hem.’

Freda stood still and watched in the mirror as Maisie knelt down and deftly raised the hem several inches, commanding her to turn round slightly every so often.

‘There, what do you think?’ she asked, standing up and stepping back to get a better view.

‘God, I love it; I reckon it will see me right through my pregnancy,’ she added, holding out the front as if she was further gone than she already was.

‘While you are trying things on, slip on the skirt to see if it fits.’

Freda frowned. ‘I’m already having problems with my skirts, like I told you. When I had William, I got away with a larger-size skirt, but this time it’s not so easy. Ruby told me to open the buttons and stitch a length of elastic between the top button and buttonhole. I reckon it will be a tad draughty, though,’ she chuckled. ‘Sarah offered to lend me a skirt as she is a size larger than me, but it swamped me.’

‘Never fear,’ Maisie winked. ‘I designed this to have openings on each side with extra buttons, so that women can move them as they grow. There’s also elastic in the waistband, for extra give.’

Freda’s eyes sparkled. ‘You’ve thought of everything.’

‘I just thought what I’d have liked to wear, when I was expecting.’

‘But no siren suits,’ Freda laughed, thinking of the comfortable garments Maisie had made for friends and their families during the war, often out of men’s clothing that they found at jumble sales.

‘Hmm, leave that with me,’ Maisie said with a glint in her eye.

As Sarah expected, the coast was clear when she returned to the store. Mr Harrison had gone to the pub, along with the floorwalker, for a liquid lunch. She sighed; there seemed to be one rule for the men in this store and another for the women. She said as much when she bumped into the cashier, Doreen, as the woman returned upstairs with the takings from the tills, accompanied by one of the lads from the store.

‘Give me a shout if you decide to copy the manager, and I’ll join you,’ the woman laughed. ‘I could do with a break. I’m only glad I retire next week.’

‘I’m sorry to hear you are leaving,’ Sarah said, wondering if Mr Harrison had found a suitable replacement.

‘It’s just not the same here any more, without Mrs Billington in charge. Even Freda’s husband was a good temporary manager.’ She shrugged her shoulders. ‘My old man’s been nagging me to resign for a while, now he’s retired.’

‘I will miss you; this place is changing so much. I’m not sure I’ll be here much longer. My heart isn’t in the job any more, as so much has altered,’ she replied, thinking of the awful floorwalker and the complaint from the young assistant, which she still needed to speak to Mr Harrison about.

Doreen patted Sarah’s arm. ‘Fight for the store, love, or there will be others leaving, you mark my words. They’re not a happy lot down on the shop floor.’

Sarah thought of how there was a time when she knew everything that was going on in the store, when Betty was manager and Freda worked as a supervisor. Her mother-in-law, Maureen, was also cooking full-time in the staff canteen and was there as a shoulder to cry on, or just to share news. Now she felt so alone. ‘I’ll do my best,’ she promised.

Doreen unlocked the door to a room that was even smaller than Sarah’s office. It contained a desk and a large safe. She beckoned to the lad who stood patiently nearby, holding a heavy hessian sack containing the takings from each till. He placed the bag on the desk and left them alone. ‘You will join me in the staff room for my leaving do? There’s an open invitation stuck on the noticeboard. Please invite the old girls; I know you still see some of them, and don’t forget your nan. Maureen is laying on a buffet and there will be a bottle or two of sherry. It’s after the store closes, so we won’t have to worry about being inebriated in front of the customers,’ she laughed.

‘I’ll look forward to it, but it won’t be the same without you,’ Sarah said as Doreen went into the room and locked the door behind her.

Checking her watch, she could see that she had ten minutes before the interviews for counter assistants started. She expected two young women, as there had been a telephone enquiry early that day. Sarah preferred written enquiries, as she could gauge more from someone’s handwriting and the way they presented themselves, but she would have time to talk with the woman, and there was an arithmetic test and an application form to complete. She quickly tidied her desk and found another chair, so the two women could sit together for the first part of the interview. Taking a comb from her bag, she ran it through her shiny chestnut-coloured hair and checked herself in the mirror hanging on the wall. It used to belong to Betty and, when she left the store, Sarah had put it in her own small office. Thinking she should apply a little lipstick, she did exactly that and straightened her jacket, thankful she was wearing her smartest suit. If she’d learnt nothing else from Betty Billington, she knew that a smart suit spoke volumes when working in management.

Sitting down at her desk, she checked that she had application forms and sharpened her pencils, then took a deep breath as there was a knock on the door. Taking a deep breath, she called out, ‘Enter’ and two young women came through the door, looking nervous.

‘Please take a seat.’ Sarah smiled, recalling how nervous she was when she attended her interview. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you both. It is a little cramped in here, but I’ll take you through to the staff canteen while you complete the paperwork,’ she said as she looked down at the sheet of paper in front of her. Although she recognized one of the women, she felt it was right not to say so. ‘Now, who is Christine and who is Jessie?’

‘I’m Christine Jenkins,’ the younger woman said. ‘I rang this morning on the off-chance there was a vacancy. I’ve just moved here from Gravesend. I do have references, but I’ve not worked as a sales lady before,’ she said, handing over an envelope.

Sarah was impressed that the woman was honest about her work history. ‘I’ll look at these while you’re both in the staff room. So you must be Jessie?’

‘Yes, I used to work in Hedley Mitchell and served you once. We chatted about your father, Councillor Caselton.’

‘Of course, I thought you looked familiar,’ she said, recalling that wasn’t the first time they’d met. ‘We can talk more when I speak to you individually.’

Jessie nodded her head. She looked nervous as she passed a couple of folded letters across the table. ‘I’m not sure if these are any good; I’ve not worked for a little while. I have young children,’ she said, averting her eyes from Sarah.

‘Children can be a blessing,’ Sarah replied, wondering why Jessie looked so furtive. ‘Why don’t I take you both through to the staff canteen and you can complete the application form and do the arithmetic test. I’ll arrange a cup of tea for you both and leave you for three-quarters of an hour. That should be enough time,’ she said as a look of alarm crossed Christine’s face.

As she showed the two women into the canteen, she spotted Freda at the top of the staircase. Mouthing, ‘I’ll be a few minutes’ to her, she ushered Christine and Jessie to a table at the back of the canteen and ordered two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits. ‘I trust you both not to cheat,’ she smiled. ‘I’ll come back at a quarter to three.’

‘Wow, you look very smart,’ Sarah said as she entered her office to see Freda giving a twirl in her new clothes.

‘I feel wonderful. Maisie has done a marvellous job with this new range of clothing.’

‘I wonder if her Bessie had a say in this idea?’

‘I thought the same. With her baby, Jenny, now a year old, she knows what women like to wear. Maisie told me she is sketching design ideas for the factory. The maternity smocks are so youthful; I don’t feel like an old granny this time round.’

Sarah giggled. ‘I doubt a granny would need to wear maternity clothes.’

‘Oh, you know what I mean. She’s going to extend the range for the summer.’

‘Even though it’s too late for you. Come the summer, you’ll be pushing young Master or Miss Forsythe in a pram and showing it off to the world, while William will be toddling alongside.’

‘I can’t wait, but in the meantime I’ll enjoy wearing these new clothes.’

Sarah smiled. It was good to see Freda so happy. ‘Can you do something for me?’

‘Of course, if it doesn’t include going up and down stairs or lugging sacks of potatoes to the veg counter.’

‘Nothing like that. I want you to go into the staff canteen and take a peep at the two women who are here for their interviews. I want you to tell me if you recognize one of them.’

‘That sounds rather furtive. What am I supposed to be looking for – a shoplifter or something?’

‘No, nothing like that. Let’s just say it is someone from the past . . .’

Sarah smiled to herself as an intrigued Freda scurried off to the staff canteen. Sitting down at her desk, she opened Christine’s references and read them carefully. She could see no reason to contact the two employers. Granted, one job had been factory work towards the end of the war, and a second, more recent one in the office of a local builder, but both companies praised her diligence and pleasant nature; and that’s what Sarah expected from someone working on the shop floor. Jessie’s reference letters caused her a little concern, as one was over five years old, written in a rough hand by a farmer who simply stated that she had worked in his fields picking vegetables one summer, whilst the other showed that Jessie had been a cleaner at the Burndept works in Erith. Sarah knew the woman had worked in Hedley Mitchell; had she not mentioned this less than an hour ago? She was still deep in thought as Freda returned with a grin on her face.

‘Oh my, that’s Jessie, who was hiding here one Christmas during the war when we had that unexploded bomb to contend with. She was no more than a kid then. I wonder what she’s been up to these past years?’

‘I met her around the time of your wedding. She was a waitress at Hedley Mitchell at the time. I do recall her saying that Dad had helped her, in his position as a local councillor, as she had a problem with her housing. I suggested that she applied here for a job as she said she was unhappy in her current position.’

‘How strange it took her this long to apply . . .’

‘I did wonder about that, but hopefully it will come to light when I interview her, once she has completed the paperwork.’ Sarah looked up at the clock. ‘Another ten minutes, then I can collect what they’ve written. There may be something on her application form that explains what has been happening.’

‘I hope she has had a good life, as she was in such a fix when I discovered her. I feel bad for not keeping in touch.’

Sarah agreed. ‘It was a difficult period for us all, at times.’

‘It was, and look how life has moved on for us all.’

‘Now tell me more about Maisie’s new range of clothing. I wish I’d had lovely clothing like that when I was carrying my two.’

‘As long as Mr Harrison doesn’t catch us chatting. I’d hate you to get into trouble.’

‘Don’t worry about him, as I doubt he and Mr Argent will be back from the pub for at least another hour. He’s on good terms with the landlord of the Crossed Keys, so he will be in there after hours,’ she tutted.

Freda shook her head. ‘Oh, to be a man and make up your own rules. I wonder what head office would say about it?’

‘I’ll not say anything, as he talks as if he has friends in high places.’

‘Have a word with Betty; she might be able to advise you about that. She knows lots of people. She did say she might pop in and see you when she has finished her errands. She came into town to do them, as she was keen to meet Mr Harrison. Shall I collect the application forms and get the women another drink while you read them through, once their time is up?’