May 1943
Irene Caselton slowly exhaled the smoke from her cigarette before addressing her daughter, Sarah, as they sat in the garden of Irene’s comfortable bungalow in Crayford. ‘I have no idea how Maisie can cope with three youngsters to take care of. However is she going to make Gwyneth’s wedding gown, let alone finish all the dressmaking orders she’s been given?’
Sarah, who was busy ensuring her daughter, Georgina, didn’t pick Irene’s prized roses, silently fumed. ‘Have you thought about trying to sew yourself, Mum? It would take the pressure off Maisie a little? You do tend to load her up with your mending and such like.’
‘Darling, you know I don’t have a clue about such things.’
Sarah tucked her complaining daughter under one arm and returned to sit in the garden seat out of the May sunshine. ‘Alan’s mum said that the pair of you always used to make your own clothes when you first started working together. She said you were a whizz on the Singer and could dash off an outfit in no time.’
Irene gave a little laugh. ‘That was a lifetime ago. I’m surprised she can recall such things. I’m not sure your father would like to see me as some little housewife making her own clothes and darning his socks. He’s doing well in his work and needs a wife who can be by his side, not up to her teeth in pins and needles and smelling of sewing machine oil when he returns home each day.’
‘Mum, Dad is just a working-class man who holds down an important job just like many other people in the war. Why, Maisie’s David has an extremely important job in the RAF, even if we don’t know what it is, and Maisie has three youngsters to care for, she does her war work and does very well with her sewing business. You do very little by her standards. I’m surprised you’ve not been called up for war work considering you’re still young enough.’
Irene flinched. Her daughter’s words had hit home and more than dented the armour she wore as she tried to shake off the humble roots of her childhood. ‘As it happens, I have received a letter. That’s why I invited you to visit today so that I could ask your advice.’ She stubbed out her cigarette in an ornate glass ashtray and delved into a tan leather handbag by her side before thrusting the letter towards her daughter.
Sarah put Georgina to the ground amongst her dolls and pulled the letter from its official-looking envelope. After carefully reading the three paragraphs she returned it to Irene. ‘Do you plan to attend the appointment at the labour exchange? It seems you’ve conveniently missed two others. Mum, you do realize you could get yourself into awfully serious trouble with the authorities by not doing your bit for the war effort?’
Irene flapped her hand in the air, dismissing her daughter’s comment. ‘I’m still helping out with the WVS and wasn’t it me who suggested the fundraising dinner dance at the golf club?’
Sarah was astounded at her mother’s attitude. ‘And no doubt when Hitler and his troops come marching through Kent you’ll arrange a dinner dance to welcome him!’
‘Honestly, Sarah, there’s no need to speak to me like that.’
‘Mum, people are beginning to talk about you. Even Nan does more than you and look at how old she is. You should be ashamed of yourself. In fact, I don’t want to have anything to do with you until you pull your finger out and do something to help us win this war. Why, my Alan is goodness knows where with the RAF while you’re putting our family to shame. We won’t stay for tea, if it’s all the same to you, and until you come to your senses you can forget about looking after Georgina.’
‘But darling . . .’ Irene called out as Sarah lifted a protesting Georgina into her pushchair before heading out of the side gate.
Irene made no attempt to run after her daughter. It would have made no difference and she knew that deep down she agreed with Sarah. She was not pulling her weight in this war. If only she could go back to those days when she’d first met George and had been such good friends with Maureen Gilbert. What had happened that she’d changed so much? Everything she’d done since their marriage was only undertaken in order to help further George’s career. She’d educated herself in the ways of the other wives and done her best to mix with only the important people at Vickers. If she fitted in, then so did George, even though he only cared for his job and wasn’t one for social interaction. She’d done it all for the best and now it had blown back in her face. What a fool she’d been, and now she could lose the friendship of her daughter and perhaps never be able to care for her adorable granddaughter again. With time heavy on her hands, she looked forward to when she had the little girl alone and could read her fairy stories and teach her nursery rhymes. The child was like a sponge, absorbing information, and she had shown a keen interest in the garden, which was Irene’s pride and joy. Why, she’d even created a small space where the child could dig and plant a few bulbs. She was planning on showing her how to grow vegetables this year. Spending time with Georgina had made Irene realize that she was a very lonely woman. She had made a few acquaintances at the golf club down the road but with George working such long hours at the factory they never got to attend functions very often – not that her husband was keen on such things. Her mother-in-law was as busy with war work as her daughter and all her young friends. Irene knew that it was her aloofness and her ambition to be better than those she grew up with that had caused her to be in this situation.
She reached for the letter and read it carefully word for word. It was time she stopped this silly act and pulled her weight. She might not have another chance to put things right. Heading back into the house, she looked at the time. There was a bus due shortly that would get her into Erith. She knew there was one person who could advise her, but she would need to hurry.
Betty yawned. It had been a long day and there was still three hours before she could lock the doors of the Erith store and head for home. Her next job, after an exhausting meeting with the store’s supervisors, was to walk the shop floor and see that everything was ticking over, as it should do. This was something she did at least once every day and it gave her a chance to have a word with all the staff and also customers who stopped to ask questions about supplies. This was where she discovered the needs of those who spent their hard-earned money in Woolworths – the people of Erith would soon complain if things were not to their liking.
Betty wondered if the changes she was about to implement by moving stock to other counters and reducing sections where items were low would meet approval. Several of her supervisors were none too happy and this had led to a rather heated meeting. She hoped that she wasn’t about to make a mistake. The last thing she wanted was a stressful working life. She smiled to herself as she thought of her husband, Douglas. Quiet and dependable, he supported his wife’s need to work and since their marriage at Christmas, had done as much as possible to make her change of circumstances as easy as possible. From being a spinster all her life she was suddenly not just a wife but also a stepmother to two young girls who worshipped the memory of their mother. The younger child, Dorothy, was a delight and Betty simply adored the child. However, the older girl, Clemmie, was not only named after her late mother but was the spitting image of the portrait that had hung over the fireplace in Douglas’s home. Fortunately for Betty, who felt the eyes of his late wife were boring into her at all times, she had been able to move this to the girls’ bedroom. To step into someone else’s home and also be a newcomer to the family had been hard for Betty. For Clemmie, who had never been comfortable with her father’s new wife, it was an excuse to sulk and be as obstructive as possible. When would her life be peaceful and calm? The tonic her doctor had given her when she stupidly thought she was expecting Douglas’s child had done the trick and she was more like her old self, albeit with a fresh set of worries. She seemed to do nothing but worry of late when in the past any problem would have washed over her like water off a duck’s back. Obviously another sign of my impending dotage, she thought, laughing to herself as she closed her office door and headed downstairs to the shop floor to start her daily inspection.
‘Hello, Betty.’
Betty turned with a startled jump. It was unusual for customers to call her by her Christian name. She smiled as she saw who it was. ‘Why, hello, Irene, I’ve not seen you in the store for a while. If you’re looking for Sarah, she’s not working today.’ She was surprised by the forlorn look that crossed the woman’s face.
‘No, I wondered if you would allow me to have a word with Maureen Gilbert? I won’t keep her from her work. If it’s a problem, I can catch her when she finishes?’
Betty could see that Irene Caselton was troubled. She hoped it wasn’t anything to do with Sarah or Alan or, God forbid, young Georgina. Glancing up at the large clock on the wall of the store, she smiled kindly at the woman. ‘I don’t see why not. Afternoon tea breaks have finished. Maureen will be clearing up the canteen. If you’re lucky, the teapot may still be hot and no doubt Maureen will be able to offer you a biscuit. I’ve no idea how she does it but she always seems to have a cake or biscuit tucked away somewhere. Go on up. You know the way.’
Irene gave her a watery smile before thanking Betty politely and heading for the stairs to the staff area.
Betty watched her disappear through the door before continuing with her duties. There was something not right with Irene Caselton. She didn’t seem her usual self at all.
Maureen Gilbert finished wiping down the last of the tables in the Woolworths staff canteen and stepped back to admire her work. The lino on the floor had also had a good going-over with a mop and hot soapy water and although rather shabby, Maureen knew it was clean enough to eat her dinner off. She took a pride in the canteen, not only with cleanliness but also in being able to provide a hot meal for all the staff. She knew that a few of the workers were finding it hard to make ends meet and would go without for the sake of their children. So, she kept an eye on them all and always had a little something for them to take home in the way of leftovers, as well as ensuring there was a good meal inside them to keep them going for the rest of the day. She looked up at the tap on the door and was surprised to see Irene standing there.
‘Sorry to intrude,’ Irene said, stepping carefully on the pages of newspaper Maureen had laid on the wet floor as a pathway from the door to the counter. There was always a late customer and she didn’t want muddy shoes from the warehouse staff messing up her clean floor. Those men could make a mess standing still in their stockinged feet.
‘Whatever brings you here?’ Maureen said. A staff canteen was not usually a place that Irene Caselton frequented. ‘There’s not something wrong, is there?’ she asked, putting her hand to her chest where her heart had suddenly started beating twenty to the dozen.
‘No, please don’t alarm yourself, Maureen. The children are all fine and no news is good news, as they say, as far as Alan is concerned. It was you I wanted to have a chat with. That’s if I may interrupt your hard work for a few minutes?’
Maureen frowned. Irene might well say she only wanted a chat but it was unheard of for her to approach any of them for a simple chat. ‘Sit yourself down. I’m about done here and ready for a cup of tea myself. Would you like a biscuit? I did some baking earlier and there are a few left in the tin.’
‘Tea would be fine but please save your biscuits for the staff. They work hard so should have the treats. I just need to ask for your advice . . . and to give you an apology.’
Maureen raised her eyebrows in surprise as she shuffled on the sheets of newspaper towards the counter where she kept the large brown teapot. Irene apologizing? This was a turn-up for the books. Whatever was it that Irene wished to apologize for? To her knowledge they’d not had cross words or fallen out. In fact, they had little to do with each other these days. If it wasn’t for her son, Alan, being married to Irene’s daughter, Sarah, and the women sharing a young granddaughter, they’d have nothing whatsoever in common.
Maureen carried two cups of hot tea to the table and sat opposite Irene. ‘Is something bothering you, Irene?’ she asked, concentrating on stirring her tea and trying not to make eye contact.
‘I’ve been an utter fool for many years and I’ve come here not only to apologize for becoming such a snob but to also ask you for advice. We used to be such good friends before we met and married our husbands. It has taken my daughter to point out to me that I need to change or I could lose everything I hold dear.’
Maureen couldn’t believe her ears. What had made Irene confess such a thing? ‘I hope Sarah hasn’t been upsetting you?’ she finally asked after trying hard to think of the right thing to say.
‘No, she’s a good girl. I don’t deserve such a daughter. She brought me to my senses. Goodness knows why George has put up with me for so long . . .’
‘George is a good man and you’re putting yourself down, Irene. You’ve made a good home for him and given him a lovely daughter. Any man would be proud to have you for a wife.’
‘Only if they were looking to climb the social ladder – I’m one of those women who push their husbands,’ she said, sniffing into a delicate lawn handkerchief. ‘You know I don’t have any proper friends. Oh, I can sit on committees and organize social gatherings, but I have no one I can confide in or simply have a nice chat with.’
Maureen felt her heart break as she saw her old friend reappearing from behind the smart clothes and perfect make-up. She replaced her cup on its saucer and reached out to hold Irene’s hand. ‘I’m still your friend, Irene. We’ve just walked separate paths for a few years. I’ll always be here for you . . . as long as you don’t expect me to join you for a game of golf,’ she added with a cheeky grin.
Irene had the good grace to laugh. ‘You always were a tonic, Maureen. You could always lift my moods.’
‘Now, as a friend, what was that advice you wanted to ask about?’
‘I want to do some war work,’ Irene explained, reaching for her handbag to find the letter she’d earlier shown to her daughter.
‘I thought you helped run the WVS?’ Maureen asked, remembering that Irene’s earlier endeavours to organize the women of Erith had not gone to plan.
‘No, I mean a proper job. Something to help end the war.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
Irene slid the letter across the table and didn’t speak until Maureen had read the words typed on the page. ‘I’ve been thinking while I was on the bus. There were some women going home after their shift and I could hear them chatting. They seemed such a happy bunch and I want to be just like them. I want to get a job on the railway.’
‘What, drive a train do you mean?’
‘Yes, or be a ticket collector or perhaps a porter. Whatever I do, it will free up a man to do important war work. It’s the only way that I can see for me to really help to end this war. By rolling up my sleeves and setting to I just know I can make a difference. I fear for the future for our granddaughter and young friends if we don’t sort Hitler out once and for all.’
Maureen nodded her head thoughtfully. ‘I’ve felt as helpless as you. I know I do my bits and pieces of fundraising but when I think of my Alan up in the skies in those planes it brings it home to me that I’m not as active as I should be.’
‘We seem to be too old to join the forces and too young to sit at home and knit socks for the troops.’
Maureen chuckled. ‘Don’t let Ruby hear you say that. She’d take Hitler on single-handed if she could.’
The women sat drinking their tea in companionable silence.
‘I’m going to walk round to the labour exchange when I leave here to find out what I need to do about applying for a job. I wondered if you’d come with me for moral support? I’m as nervous as I was when I went for my first job as a young girl.’
‘I’ll do more than that,’ Maureen replied with a glint in her eye. ‘I’ll find out about signing up myself. It’s time we fought for a brighter future for our granddaughter.’
‘I can’t say I’m not pleased about having you join me but what about your job here? What will Betty do about the staff canteen? I know George will have something to say about my decision, but I can handle him.’
‘I’m sure Betty will find someone to replace me. There are enough women out there who can pour tea and wash floors,’ Maureen replied, even though she felt bad about letting down Betty Billington.
‘Maisie, have you seen the state of my uniform jacket? It has sticky marks on the sleeves and I need to be off in a few minutes,’ David Carlisle huffed as he walked into the small kitchen of the rooms they rented in a large house in Avenue Road. He wrinkled his nose at the sight that met his eyes. ‘I hope that’s not our dinner?’
Maisie turned and grinned. Wrapped up in a voluminous pinafore with a scarf covering her hair, she wiped the steam from her face with her hand before tucking away a stray curl that had escaped the hair covering. ‘Any more of yer lip and you will get this on a plate along wiv a few spuds and carrots. If I don’t get Ruby’s nappies boiled and on the line, she’ll have run out by teatime. Now, what did I hear you moaning about?’ she asked, hands on hips and looking her handsome RAF husband up and down.
David felt slightly ashamed. ‘The sleeve of my jacket appears to be a little sticky.’
Maisie laughed and reached for the dishcloth and gave the offending mark a good scrub. ‘There you are. Now go off and try to win the war without getting grubby,’ she snorted with laughter.
‘I love you, Maisie Carlisle,’ he said, sweeping his wife up in his arms and swinging her around the room before gently kissing her lips.
‘I think you’re a bit of all right too,’ she replied and was about to return his kiss when two little girls could be heard giggling in the doorway. Maisie shrugged her shoulders and tidied the scarf on her head. ‘What are you two up ter? I bet it’s a bit of no good or you’d not be laughing like that.’
‘Just you and David kissing each other; it’s a bit soppy, ain’t it?’ Bessie grinned.
‘You won’t be saying that in ten years’ time,’ David replied, pulling on his jacket and straightening his tie. ‘Now, who wants to come to the front door and wave me off?’ he said to the two young children.
‘Me, me,’ they chorused and danced ahead of him out of the door to their front room and along the corridor to the stairs that led down to a communal front door.
‘See you tonight,’ she said, giving her husband a lingering last kiss before he followed the girls. ‘Tell the pair of them to come straight back upstairs.’
She smiled to herself as she checked the nappies boiling away in the bucket on the stove before turning off the gas and reaching for a cloth to use to grip the hot handle and take the bucket to the sink. Who’d have thought that Bessie and Claudette would settle so well into life here in Erith? When she thought back to that awful day when she only expected to see her parents again . . . First to hear that Dad had died, then to lose her mum almost in front of her eyes would be more than many women could cope with. Maisie knew that since becoming a mother she had grown so much stronger and thinking back to that awful moment when she sat holding her mum’s hand on that cold pavement, she knew she had to be strong for the sake of those two girls.
Going back to her mum’s flat had been strange because the place had felt so empty. With Freda’s help she’d fed the girls and put them to bed where they’d dropped off within minutes and seemed none the worse for their ordeal. Not knowing when, or if, she’d return there, Maisie had pottered around the few rooms tidying up and putting away her mum’s possessions. She’d found an old suitcase and packed the few clothes the little girls owned and also an envelope of official-looking paperwork that might be needed to sort out Queenie’s affairs.
Using the last of the milk Freda had found in a small pantry, they’d sat drinking cocoa without saying a word until there was a quiet knock at the door. Rushing to open it, she’d fallen into her husband’s arms. They would all be safe now. Waking the girls and dressing them warmly, they’d gone out into the night air to find Mike Jackson waiting by a lorry she recognized as belonging to the farm where Ruby’s daughter Pat worked. The girls were settled in the cab with Freda while Maisie and David retired to sit on sacking at the back of the vehicle. Snuggling up to her husband, Maisie had told him all that had happened as they’d headed back in the darkness towards Erith and home.
Bessie and Claudette kept an eye on young Ruby while Maisie hung the nappies on the line. There was a stiff breeze and she stepped back to admire the row of white running the length of the garden. She had an errand to run before settling down for an afternoon of sewing. These days Maisie found her time taken up making clothes for the children, as all three had grown at an alarming rate in the past two months. Although adept at making something out of nothing, even Maisie was finding it hard to turn old clothes into items that were useful for the girls. There were four girls to consider, as she’d never forget Sarah’s daughter, Georgina, when producing pretty frocks and outfits. As she positioned the clothes prop and double-checked the washing she remembered that there was Gwyneth’s wedding gown to consider too. Apart from asking Maisie if she could make her bridal gown, Gwyneth had given no indication of the style, or indeed the colour. It wouldn’t be that long before Gwyneth would be getting hitched to Mike Jackson. Perhaps she should forget about enjoying an afternoon of sewing and visit number thirteen instead? She’d hate to have to rush making such an important gown. There was also the girls’ schooling to consider before the school board man came knocking at their door. Maisie grimaced as she picked up the wash basket and headed indoors. What happened to those far-off days of visiting the pub and going dancing and having a good laugh with her chums?
Climbing the steep stairs back to their rooms, she came across Bessie with a tea towel in her hand. ‘I’ve done the washing-up,’ she declared proudly.
‘And I’ve dusted the front room,’ little Claudette announced with a cheeky grin.
‘Why, girls, that’s a lovely thing to do for your Auntie Maisie, thank you both,’ she said, putting down her wash basket and sweeping them up in a big hug.
‘Nanna Queenie said we had to work for our keep,’ Bessie said seriously.
‘We don’t want you to go away as well,’ Claudette chipped in, her chin wobbling slightly as she gave Maisie a sad look.
Maisie was thinking about what a cow her mum had been, making those young kiddies work for their keep, when she stopped and thought for a moment. The girls had seen many people leaving them in their short lives and she really didn’t want them to suffer any more than possible. She wanted these little ones to remain with her until they grew up and made their own way in the world. Her brother was sure to agree – going by the little she’d heard about him from her mum and the girls – if they ever heard from him again. ‘I promise you I ain’t going anywhere, my loves,’ she said, giving them both a big kiss. ‘Now, how about we fetch our coats then go and visit Ruby? You never know, Myfi and Georgina might be there?’
The children didn’t need a second bidding and were downstairs waiting just inside the front door as Maisie followed carrying baby Ruby and placed her in her pram. She checked she had her handbag and they set off on the short walk down the avenue, over the railway bridge past the Prince of Wales pub and the Odeon cinema into Manor Road before crossing over into Alexandra Road. It was still a walk that Maisie enjoyed as Ruby’s house felt so much like home.
‘Come in, come in,’ Ruby beamed as the two little girls stood on her doorstep. ‘My, I think you’ve grown since the last time I saw you. I have some visitors who would love to see you,’ she said, leading them into the house.
‘I’m sorry, Ruby. We can visit another time. I only popped by on the off chance Gwyneth was home and we could sort out her wedding dress. We can come another time if you’ve got visitors?’ Maisie said with an apologetic look on her face.
‘Don’t be daft, girl. Get yourself inside and take the weight off your feet. You look exhausted. It’s only Vera from up the road and Irene and Maureen. Not really proper visitors. More like family really. Vera will be off in a minute. She just came down to give me some news.’
Maisie raised her eyebrows at the way Ruby spoke.
‘I’ll tell you all about it when we’re alone,’ she whispered as she lifted her namesake from Maisie’s arms and carried her into the front room.
There was a time when the front room of number thirteen was only used on high days and holidays. Ruby would keep the green velvet curtains closed so the sun didn’t fade the furnishings and the door was firmly shut against visitors. It was from this room that her darling Eddie had taken his final journey up to Saint Paulinus churchyard and his final resting place. However, with the comings and goings of Sarah and her friends over the past few years she’d gladly opened up the room again and it was used more often. Today her daughter-in-law, Irene, was sitting chatting nineteen to the dozen with Maureen and Vera could be heard from the kitchen talking to the two little girls.
Maisie was lost for words. Ruby’s mouth twitched as she tried not to laugh at her expression. ‘Maureen and Irene have come to tell me something and to ask my advice on the best way to break their news to George. Sit yourself down and I’ll get you a cup. This tea should be all right,’ she said as she passed the baby to Maureen and then felt the teapot on the sideboard.
‘I’ve brought in some hot water,’ Vera said, appearing at the door. ‘Hello, Maisie, those two girls are a credit to you and isn’t young Ruby growing fast?’ she beamed.
Maisie could not think of a word to say. She would have pinched herself to check she wasn’t dreaming if it wouldn’t have appeared to be rude.
‘I’ll get off and leave you to it, Ruby. I want to get the bedrooms ready and air the bedding before my guests arrive,’ Vera said, taking her coat from where she’d left it on the back of a chair. ‘The girls are sitting in the other room with a biscuit each,’ Vera added as an afterthought before picking up her gas mask and bidding them all goodbye.
Maisie sat with her mouth open and tried to think of something to say to Sarah’s mother and mother-in-law. ‘You both look excited. Has someone opened a jar of jam?’ she asked.
‘You and your sayings,’ Irene tittered. ‘If that means are we happy, I suppose we are. We’ve made life-changing decisions.’
‘Oh my,’ was all Maisie could think to say as she took a gulp of the hot tea Ruby had just handed her and spent the next few minutes coughing and spluttering.