The day of the party for the old soldiers dawned bright, although there was still snow on the ground. She’d heard that the men would be collected by staff to ensure they would be at Woolworths as the doors closed to the other shoppers at half past five. They would be able to browse the shelves with help from staff before enjoying their tea party.
During her midday break Sarah was summoned to Miss Billington’s office. She looked around her as she stepped into the room. Rows of box files covered the shelves, each labelled with neat handwriting. Paperwork was stacked tidily in wire trays on the desk, and next to them a row of pencils, each sharpened to a point, were lined up ready to be used. Miss Billington certainly ran a tight ship.
‘Take a seat, Sarah. I don’t wish to take up too much of your lunch hour. I just wanted a quick word with you to ask if you were happy working for F. W. Woolworth.’
Sarah frowned. Had their colleague reported her and Alan because of the few minutes they had held hands while on duty the previous day? ‘I’m very happy here, Miss Billington. I hope I haven’t given cause for complaint?’ She chewed her lip nervously as Miss Billington looked at a sheet of paper on the desk in front of her. To be denied a permanent job now would be awful. Not being able to work alongside Maisie and Freda, and not having the chance to see Alan each day, would break her heart. She knew that Alan still hadn’t asked her out, but to miss the thrill of seeing him around the shop, the anticipation of a few snatched words, the touch of his hand, a smile or a cheeky wink was simply unbearable. Perhaps if she begged, Miss Billington would change her mind. But what could she say?
Miss Billington cleared her throat. ‘I know I said that you were on probation until January, but I’ve reason to change my mind.’
Sarah closed her eyes and clenched her fists in anticipation of being sent away without a job and without seeing Alan again.
‘Sarah, I’m more than happy with your work, to the point that I feel you have the makings, in time, of a supervisor. You are already aware that I’m arranging uniforms for the probationers in January, but I wanted to have a quiet word about your future with Woolworths.’
Sarah gasped. From expecting to be given her cards to being told that management were happy with her work had taken her breath away. She was determined to show she was worthy of Miss Billington’s trust in her. ‘Thank you. I promise I’ll do my best to make you proud of me.’
Miss Billington smiled and checked her watch. ‘I’m sure you will, Sarah. I have faith in you. Now, finish your lunch and get back to your counter before we have queues running the length of the shop. I don’t need to tell you that this is the busiest time of the year and we in the Erith branch of F. W. Woolworth pride ourselves on our service to our customers.’
‘I will, Miss Billington. Thank you, oh thank you.’ Sarah rushed from the room and was halfway to the shop floor before she remembered she had left her handbag in the staffroom, along with her half-eaten lunch. Turning quickly, while chiding herself for her stupidity, she bumped into Maisie.
‘Whoa, watch where you’re going!’ Maisie said, grabbing Sarah’s shoulders to slow her down.
‘Gosh, I’m sorry. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going.’
‘You look all of a fluster, love. Not been in the store cupboard sharing kisses with that Alan, have you?’
Sarah blushed. Maisie certainly had a way of saying things. ‘Goodness, no. I was called in to see Miss Billington and forgot where I was going when I came out of her office, that’s all.’
Maisie nudged her with her elbow. ‘I’m only kidding you. Mind you, I bet you wouldn’t say no if he asked you. I saw the way you were dancing together at the party. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.’
‘I do like him.’
‘And it’s obvious he likes you.’ Maisie linked her arm through her chum’s. ‘Now, where are we heading?’
‘I’m going to the staffroom to finish my sandwich and then I’m back on the shop floor.’
‘I’ll come with you. I’ve got time for a quick cuppa.’
The girls headed for the staffroom and found Freda already sitting at the table that Sarah had vacated earlier. She held up Sarah’s handbag. ‘I thought you’d be back. You forgot this. I’ve got you a fresh cup of tea as well. Yours was stone cold. Want one, Maisie?’
‘I’ll get me own. You start cross-examining this one here. There must be a reason she looks like the cat what got the cream.’
Sarah giggled. ‘I am quite excited.’
‘Go on, do tell,’ Freda begged. ‘Is it to do with Alan?’
‘Not you as well. I’ve had Maisie making all sorts of suggestions. He hasn’t even asked me out.’
‘He will,’ Freda said with certainty. ‘His mum reckons he will as well.’
Sarah glanced over to where Maureen Gilbert was serving Maisie her tea. ‘I didn’t realize I was the subject of everyone’s conversations.’
Freda looked hurt. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean any harm by it. I like Alan. Your nan does too.’
‘I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm. I like Alan too.’
The girls giggled as Maisie joined them, balancing her cup and saucer in one hand and a plate with slices of tart in the other.
‘What’s that?’ Freda asked, peering closely at the pastry-based confection with its creamy-brown filling.
‘Gypsy tart. It’s a Kentish cake. You’ll love it,’ Sarah said, passing Freda a slice.
Freda bit into the sweet filling, wiping the crumbs from her lips. ‘It’s delicious,’ she declared. ‘We have nothing like this where I come from.’
‘There’ll be plenty more of it. It’s Maureen’s speciality, along with bread pudding, from what I’ve been told,’ Maisie said, sitting down at the table and pulling out her cigarettes. ‘So come on, spit it out. I know you’ve got news of some sort.’
‘It’s nothing, really. Miss Billington wanted to tell me that I have the makings of a supervisor, that’s all. Nothing definite.’
‘Nothing definite? That’s blooming marvellous. Well done, kid!’ Maisie cheered, and had to be shushed by the other two, as heads turned their way in the crowded staffroom.
Freda squeezed Sarah’s arm. ‘I’m made up for you. You’ll be in charge of the both of us in no time at all. Perhaps we should celebrate?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘No. It’s not as if I have a proper job offer. It might be years before I get the position. Besides, we have enough celebrating to do, with Christmas only a couple of days away and entertaining the old folk this evening. Are you sure you and your husband can’t come to us for Christmas, Maisie? Nan said the invite still stands.’
‘No, sorry. We’ve got to spend some time with the old bat. Thanks all the same. To be honest, I’d rather be sharing your Christmas than what we have planned, but needs must where the family’s concerned. Thank your nan for me, will you? We’ll share a glass or two to see in the new year, though.’
‘Of course I will. You’ve not changed your mind and want to go see your family, Freda?’
Freda shook her head and shuddered. ‘No. I’d much rather be at yours. That’s if it’s still OK?’
‘Of course it’s all right,’ she reassured Freda. But Sarah wondered why a young girl wouldn’t want to be at home with her family over Christmas. Freda had a secret and Sarah wasn’t so sure it was a pleasant one.
That evening Sarah immediately fell in love with Alfie, the elderly ex-soldier she was escorting around Woolworths. The men exclaimed with delight at the Christmas tree that stood just inside the entrance to the shop. Almost touching the ceiling, it set the scene for the delights of the store as visitors stepped over the threshold. Sarah had to admit her own counter, stocked high with boxes of greetings cards, calendars for 1939 and a large assortment of wrapping paper, looked suitably festive, with its canopy of paper chains and Chinese lanterns. Maisie pushed Alfie’s wheelchair, while Sarah picked out books, packets of toffees and tins of sweets as possible gifts for his grandchildren. She asked about them and tried hard to find presents that would suit the characters he described. Although a warm rug was tucked around his legs, Sarah could see he wore what must have been his best suit and a row of medals across his chest. She recognized one as the same as her granddad had proudly owned. As a young child, she’d sat on her granddad’s knee and been allowed to look at his medals, displayed in a velvet-lined box. She knew that one had been earned for service long before the Great War.
‘So tell me, my dear, why are you helping an old man when you should be out with your friends enjoying yourself? Are you courting?’
Maisie laughed. ‘You’re not slow in coming forward, Alfie.’
Alfie waved his walking stick at Maisie from his wheelchair. ‘None of your lip either, young woman. I’m asking because she’s a pretty young thing who shouldn’t be hanging around with old goats like me. It’s Christmas – she should be with her young man. Now answer my question, young miss.’
Sarah looked up from where she was wrapping a small bottle of eau de cologne. Alfie was a lovely man. He reminded her of Granddad Eddie – straight-talking, as many of his generation were. ‘I don’t have a boyfriend, Alfie, and even if I did, I still wouldn’t miss this evening for a hundred pounds. I’ve loved helping you with your shopping.’
Alfie looked up at Maisie. ‘Is she having me on? No young man?’
Maisie grinned at Sarah. ‘Not at the moment, Alfie, but I reckon there’s one who has set his cap for our Sarah.’
The old man guffawed with laughter and Maisie joined in.
Sarah tried hard not to join in with their mirth. But try as she might, she had to laugh.
‘Now, is there anything else you need? We will have to get upstairs to the canteen before too long or there won’t be any food left.’
‘Don’t you go worrying about me, my dear. I may not be able to walk that far, but with one of you young ladies on my arm and my faithful walking stick, stairs hold no fear for me.’
Sarah smiled to herself. What a lovely man he was. It was a pleasure to help him. This evening was so much fun.
Alfie took her hand as she bent to place his purchases in his bag. ‘Hark up, my love. You get yourself out and have some fun. If there’s a lad that sets your heart a-fluttering, then get him up that aisle and a ring on your finger as soon as you can. I don’t hold with all this talk of “peace in our time”. Mark my words, there’s gonna be another war and you youngsters are going to lose loved ones and miss growing up among family and friends just like the last generation did. I was lucky – my sons returned in one piece, just as I did when I served my country.’ He tapped his legs with his stick. ‘Even if me pins never worked proper afterwards, at least I came back. A lot didn’t. Grasp your happiness while you can, my love. While you can.’
Alfie fell silent for a moment as a faraway look came into his eyes. ‘Now, enough of my ramblings. Let’s go have that food, shall we?’
Sarah stood watching as Maisie pushed Alfie away. A sudden chill made her shiver as if something had walked over her grave.
The party was in full swing when the girls pushed Alfie through the doors of the staff canteen. The shop manager, Mr Benfield, was dressed as Father Christmas, complete with a pillow stuffed inside his costume to enhance his already portly figure.
Plates piled high with ham, pickles and crusty bread were being tucked into, while a large Christmas cake, in the centre of the table, was waiting to be sliced. Maureen, assisted by Freda, was busy pouring out cups of strong tea. The barrel of beer would be put to use soon afterwards when the entertainment started.
Sarah could see Alan in the kitchen with a tea towel tied round his waist as he set to work on the already mountainous pile of washing-up. The ex-servicemen may be elderly but they could still put away an enormous amount of food, Sarah thought to herself. She was just thinking of going to help him when she spotted Miss Billington waving to her from where the piano had been positioned.
‘Sarah, would you be a dear and turn the pages as I play? It’s been a while and I’m all fingers and thumbs. Thankfully Maureen Gilbert will take over when she’s finished serving tea.’
Sarah squeezed onto the long piano stool beside her boss. ‘Of course I will, Miss Billington.’
‘There’s no need to be so formal, Sarah. You may call me Betty as we aren’t at work.’
‘Thank you, M— Betty. That’s a pretty name.’
Betty Billington smiled. ‘Thank you. It’s Elizabeth really, after my grandmother, who died long before the last war. But you know how names are shortened by family. I have vague recollections of her, but time does strange things with our memories. Shall we start with “By a Waterfall”? I’m rather partial to a Busby Berkeley tune.’
It was the first time that Sarah had thought of her boss as a person who had likes and dislikes. Betty Billington was probably not more than forty years of age, but with her hair pulled back in a severe bun and her tweed suits, she looked much older.
‘That’s my favourite song as well.’ Sarah beamed and reached for the sheet of music, ready to turn the page when her boss indicated. Members of the party started to hum and tap their toes to the music. As the tables were cleared and cigars passed round, Mr Benfield made his appearance, sack over his shoulder and many ‘ho, ho, ho’s as he got into the part. He was the perfect Santa.
Betty stopped playing so that Father Christmas could take centre stage, to much cheering and ribbing from his staff. He handed out a small parcel to every guest, who each tore it open with gusto, voicing their appreciation.
Sarah watched with glee as the men showed their gratitude, shaking the hands of staff sitting nearby. ‘Is this the same every year?’ she asked Betty.
‘There’s always a party, but this year we’ve made it more special, as who knows what will be happening by next Christmas. These men know more than any what our country will face. It’s only right we show them some respect. Apart from the cigarettes and tobacco we’ve wrapped for each man, there’s also a small hamper of Christmas foods that will be delivered when we take our guests home. For some, this will be the only Christmas celebration they’ll have and here at F. W. Woolworth we feel that we should be saying thank you to these brave men.’
Sarah found she couldn’t speak properly as her throat had tightened and tears had started to form. She was seeing another side to her boss, and the job she was beginning to enjoy, this evening. ‘I think it’s wonderful that we are able to treat these men to such a lovely party,’ she said eventually. ‘My nan has told me that she lost many friends and family in the last war. It must be awful for the older folk, as they know it could happen again. I couldn’t bear to think I’d lose family and loved ones to war.’ Her gaze drifted to where Alan was chatting to a group of old soldiers. She had known him for such a short time. It would be unbearable never to see Alan again under such circumstances. ‘How do women cope when they lose the love of their life?’ she murmured.
‘We carry on, Sarah. That’s all we can do, but we never forget.’
Sarah could see that Betty’s hands were shaking. ‘I’ll get us a cup of tea. Would you like a slice of cake to go with it?’
‘Thank you. You’re a good girl, Sarah. I hope you aren’t faced with the sadness that my generation have had to bear.’
Sarah slipped into the kitchen, where she found Freda and Maisie cutting cake and laying it out on a tray to hand round to the guests.
Maisie licked the icing sugar from her fingers. ‘You’re getting a bit cosy with old Bossy Billington, aren’t you?’
Sarah shrugged her shoulders. ‘She’s not so bad. She was getting a bit upset talking about the last war. I said I’d get her a cuppa to cheer her up. I think she must have lost someone close and it’s shaken her up seeing the old soldiers here tonight. It’s rather sad to think about, isn’t it?’
‘I suppose lots of women lose their loved ones during a war,’ Freda said as she continued to cut the cake, unaware of Maisie and Sarah, who had stopped work and were looking at each other in fear.
‘This could happen to us if Hitler has his way,’ Maisie whispered.
‘Please, God, no,’ was all Sarah could say.