‘That’s the best we can do,’ Maisie said, her hands on her hips as she surveyed the bustling Woolworths store. ‘We’ve polished the counters till you can see yer face in them, there’s not a speck of dust on the floors and all the girls are wearing clean overalls. I had to remind Sadie that Charlie was dead but a couple of safety pins sorted that out.’
Betty, who’d been smiling broadly at her sparkling store, became bemused and a little sad at Maisie’s words. ‘I’m sorry, my dear, but you’ve lost me. Who is Charlie? I’m so sorry to hear of his demise. As for safety pins . . . ?’
Sarah chuckled. ‘Betty, it’s something we say when a girl’s petticoat is hanging below the hem of her skirt.’
‘Oh my goodness, whatever next!’ Betty chuckled. ‘You girls and your sayings, you make me feel quite old at times.’
Despite them being on the shop floor and knowing they should be calling their boss by her full name and not being too familiar, Sarah put her arm around Betty’s shoulder and gave her a quick hug. They were all feeling relieved that they’d pulled the store into shape so that when the inspector, whatever his name was, arrived from head office they would not be found lacking. ‘Betty, please don’t say such things. You aren’t that old. Would I have had an old woman as my bridesmaid?’ She smiled gently.
‘Just a bit older than us.’ Maisie winked and nudged her friend as a customer approached to ask when knicker elastic would next be in stock.
‘Hmm . . . how long is a piece of string?’ Maisie answered seriously, as Sarah and Betty left her to it and hurried upstairs to the canteen before they both burst out laughing at Maisie’s solemn reply.
Betty finally felt ready for her store to be inspected. She didn’t wish to worry her staff by being unduly concerned about this inspection but she knew that her career with Woolworths after the war, if it ever ended, would depend on her having a blemish-free record. The women, who’d been promoted to replace male management staff when they went off to war in 1939, were reminded that their promotion was only for the duration of the war. When the men returned, the female staff members would revert to their previous positions. Betty would prefer not to return to her job as staff supervisor and unofficial assistant to Mr Benfield, who was now in North Africa fighting Rommel. No, she would fight tooth and nail to retain the job she loved above all else – manager of Erith Woolworths.
‘Miss Billington? The telephone was ringing in your office,’ a young women said quietly, not quite making eye contact with Betty.
‘Mary, did you answer it?’ Betty asked.
‘Yes, Miss.’ The girl beamed proudly.
‘Who was it, Mary?’
‘The girl turned a deep shade of red and mumbled, ‘I’m not sure. It’s the first time I’ve ever picked up a telephone and it frightened me.’
‘I’m sorry, Miss Billington,’ Freda interrupted. ‘I asked Mary to listen out for your telephone in case it rang. I meant for her to call me, not to answer it herself.’ Freda was normally mild mannered but it irritated her that what could have been an important conversation had been dealt with by a mere child.
‘I know it was someone from head office,’ the girl replied. ‘They told me that someone was arriving at six o’clock. That is, I think they said six.’
‘Do we have a name for this person?’ Betty asked patiently, although she could scream. What if it had been the inspector? Would it blot her copybook if a message were not taken properly?
‘I didn’t think to ask, Miss Billington,’ Mary said in a subdued voice.
‘Not to worry,’ Betty said. ‘Now, skip off back to your counter. I’m sure Elsie will need your help, and don’t forget to keep it tidy, Mary.’ She didn’t have time to deal with a distressed youngster. Perhaps she would show her employees how to use the telephone. It hadn’t crossed her mind that some staff members would be fearful of the instrument. Yes, she would add it to the list she’d prepared to show the inspector her plans to train the Woolworths staff in all aspects of work at the store.
‘I’ve just put a cuppa on your desk. There’s nothing needs worrying about in here, so get yourself off to your office and take that strained look off your face,’ Ruby said, patting the younger woman on the arm.
‘Thank you, Ruby. Is it that obvious I’m worried about the inspection?’
‘Only to those who know you well, my love. Why, those Americans who own Woolies should be more than grateful they have the likes of you to run our little shop down here in Erith. If they’ve got any sense they’ll give you a permanent job once we’ve sorted out Hitler and his gang. You’ve done a far better job than that Benfield ever did. For one thing, you never disappear off to the Running Horses at lunchtime and come back more than a little merry.’
Betty smiled. It was more than common knowledge that the previous manager enjoyed a tipple with his lunchtime meal. However, he still did a good job and was thought of with fondness by the older staff who remembered him.
‘Thank you, Ruby,’ Betty said again. ‘Have you thought about returning to help out at Woolworths? I could do with more employees just like you.’
Ruby shook her head and reached for a cloth to wipe down the tables. ‘No thank you, Betty. I’m more than happy to help out at times like this but I’ve enough on my hands with the family and the WVS. You’ll find a slice of my special seed cake with your tea.’ She winked.
‘What makes it so special?’ Betty asked, already salivating at the thought of Ruby’s home-made cake.
‘It’s special because of the ingredients,’ Ruby said, with a conspiratorial tone to her voice.
‘Special ingredients?’
‘They’re special because not everyone knows how to get hold of them,’ Ruby explained, with a knowing smile.
Betty tried not to laugh. ‘I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, Ruby,’ she said sternly. ‘But please don’t forget that if you ever change your mind about a job here you know I’ll take you back. I value all our Woolworths girls, past and present,’ she told the grey-haired woman. Ruby Caselton was the only person she allowed to call her by her Christian name in front of the staff during work hours. Sarah’s grandmother was respected by all in the community of Erith and could be relied upon when times weren’t so good.
‘Now, get yourself off and do some work,’ Ruby said. ‘Maureen and me have a lot to do if this party is to go ahead later today. Oh, and if that inspector pokes his nose in here he’ll get short change from me, and you can tell him I said as much.’
Betty returned to her office to find Sarah already there, pinning a new staff rota to the wall. ‘Is there anything else you want me to help with or should I get back down to the shop floor and give everything a last once-over?’ she asked Betty.
‘Apart from checking the bottom of customers’ shoes for mud in case they make a mess before the inspector arrives, I’m not sure we can do much else. I’ve been informed there’s a delivery of Christmas goods coming in later this afternoon. If you could tell the staff on the Christmas counters that I’d like the items on display as soon as possible, please? My goodness, I’m surprised how one man with a clipboard can have me so flustered.’
‘You know, Ruby, I could swear there were six of these meat and vegetable pies,’ Maureen said, peering into a box she’d just carried in from the storeroom.
‘You’re right, I made six and they all came with me from home. Vera helped carry them here. Are you sure you put them all into the one box?’ Ruby asked, counting the large enamel pie dishes just as Maureen had done.
‘Hmm, I wonder if someone moved them? Let’s check the other food we’ve put by for the party. We’ll need to get these into the oven before too long or they’ll not be hot enough for the old boys’ meal.’
Maureen checked the clock on the wall of the canteen as they headed to the Woolworths storeroom. ‘We’ve got two hours to go. Now the workers have finished their tea breaks we can start to lay out the food tables . . . Well, I’ll be blown!’ She stopped what she was saying as Ruby pointed to the shelves that had been allocated for the party stores. ‘Someone’s had a good rummage through here, there’s no mistake.’
‘Pete, Harry, what’s been going on here?’ Ruby called out to the warehouse men, who were busy leaning on their brooms nearby. ‘Have you been helping yourself to the pies I made for the old folk?’
‘Not us, missus,’ Harry replied, while his mate Pete just shrugged his shoulders. ‘But if there’s a slice going begging we wouldn’t mind a bit. Some thieving so-and-so has pinched Pete’s sandwich along with a bottle of beer.’
‘Get yourselves along to the canteen, lads. I’m sure there’ll be something you can eat to tide you both over. Could it be rats?’ Maureen said to Ruby with a shudder.
‘No rats here, missus,’ Harry called over his shoulder. ‘It’d be more than my job’s worth to allow vermin in here. The boss lady would ’ave my guts for garters.’
‘There’s something very strange going on in here,’ Ruby said, glancing around the large storeroom. ‘But whatever it is will have to wait for now. We have guests to feed and we’re one pie short. Let’s go peel some spuds and make some mash.’
‘My goodness, I didn’t expect the old soldiers to turn up so early,’ Betty said, after she’d shaken the hands of all her male guests and called staff members to help them to the staffroom, collecting coats and hats along the way. ‘I distinctly recall telling the almoner of the home to get them here for six o’clock. Why, it’s only just past five and the shop is still open. Whatever shall we do with them for an hour until the old Woolies staff arrive? We can’t start the meal yet.’
‘Tea, biscuits and a bit of a sing-song?’ Maisie suggested. ‘I don’t think they’ll be bothered about a few broken biscuits. Apart from that woman over there, I didn’t know we invited friends of the old soldiers?’
Betty shrugged her shoulders. She was too worried about entertaining her guests for an extra hour to think much about a female ‘old boy’. Biscuits were more important. ‘Perhaps she served as a nurse or something. I didn’t think to ask about the gender of our guests. I’m still not sure about serving broken biscuits. They do look very nice on a china plate, though.’ Betty sighed. She set great store by food presented on her best crockery and had supplied her own tea plates for the occasion. ‘But needs must. Freda, get yourself downstairs and pick a pound of our best broken biscuits – that’s if one broken biscuit can be better than the next,’ she muttered to herself. ‘Sarah, get the shop put to bed for the night and lock up. If the inspector arrives he will just have to bang on the door. I thought he’d have been here by now,’ she said distractedly, as she clapped her hands to catch the attention of the guests and welcome them to Woolworths.
‘I’m surprised that Betty rates broken biscuits over the shop inspector. I thought she’d never stop worrying about the chap. Not that she ’as a thing to worry about,’ Maisie whispered to Sarah, as she accompanied her down the private staircase and out into the still busy shop.
Sarah laughed. She’d thought the same thing. ‘Would you stand by the front doors and wish everyone a good night, please, Maisie?’ she asked her chum. ‘Some shoppers may get the hint we are about to close for the day and pay for their purchases.’
‘’Course I will,’ Maisie said. ‘D’yer want me to sing a verse or two of “Goodnight, Sweetheart”?’ she grinned, before doubling over and hugging her stomach. ‘Ouch, that bloody hurt.’
‘Goodness, Maisie, are you all right? Here, come and sit down for a minute. You’ve gone a ghastly shade of white.’
‘I do feel a bit strange. It’ll pass. It did this morning before I left for work. I’ll be fine. You’ve got enough to do without worrying about me.’
‘Well, get yourself back upstairs and rest for a while. Someone else can help me,’ Sarah said, with a concerned look on her face. It wasn’t like Maisie to be ill and this early in her pregnancy she shouldn’t be experiencing pains. ‘Please God, make everything fine for Maisie. She’s dreamt of being a mum for so long,’ she whispered to herself, before heading over to a nearby counter to help a shop assistant cover her goods with a dust sheet and lock the cash register. With most of the cash having been collected half an hour before, only a small float was left in the tills overnight.
‘Excuse me, young lady,’ said a man about the same age as her. ‘I’m here to see a Miss Billington,’ he continued, checking a notebook he held in his hand.
Oh my goodness, it must be the inspector, Sarah thought to herself. She couldn’t take him upstairs at the moment. Whatever would he think of a staffroom full of old men being fed Woolworths’ finest broken biscuits? It was a rarity in wartime to have biscuits on sale at all, let alone give them away. She stopped and thought for a couple of seconds. ‘Rather than bother Miss Billington for the moment, would you like to accompany me as we close the store for the night? It would give you an idea of what we do here at Erith Woolworths?’
The man thought for a moment, then nodded his head. ‘Yes, why not indeed? Lead the way, Miss . . .’
‘Mrs Gilbert, Mrs Alan Gilbert,’ Sarah corrected him. She felt that circumstances dictated a formal introduction.
‘Alan Gilbert’s wife?’
Crikey, he is good at his job if he can remember past Woolworths staff, Sarah thought. ‘Yes, Alan was a trainee manager here before the war. That’s how we met. He hopes to return and one day manage his own branch of Woolworths.’ She smiled politely. It wouldn’t hurt to put in a good word for her husband, even if there was no end in sight to this war. She wished her nan’s prophecy had come true – that the war would be over by Christmas 1939. With them fast approaching the third Christmas in wartime, she did wonder if Alan had settled too comfortably into the RAF and would wish to return to working at Woolies.
‘I remember Alan very well; please give him my regards when you next see him,’ the man said. ‘I’m Nigel Guttridge – it would help to know my name.’ He smiled congenially, holding out his hand to shake Sarah’s.
Sarah took his hand and nodded but decided not to be fooled by his friendly demeanour. In her book, inspectors were to be feared as they could make life hell for the shop workers if they discovered a store was not pulling its weight. What if they were to move Betty away from Erith, or even worse, give her the sack . . . It would be tricky dealing with this man. ‘I’ll give him your message, thank you. He is not on active duty due to an injury overseas . . . but he will soon be back to full health,’ she added quickly, in case this would make a mark on Alan’s potential as a future manager at Woolies.
Nigel Guttridge nodded and tapped his left leg with the notebook he’d been busy scribbling in. ‘I wasn’t so lucky. I lost this during the Battle of Britain and now I’m back in civvy street.’
Sarah had wondered about the man’s limp. Her natural caring attitude urged her to sympathize and ask how he was coping, but perhaps this man was lulling her into a false sense of security. ‘I’m very sorry,’ she said politely. ‘Now, would you like to see the staff at work?’ She pointed to where young Mary and two colleagues were moving glassware and china underneath the heavy mahogany counter and placing wooden beer crates over other stock. ‘Miss Billington managed to obtain these crates from a local public house and we use them to cover goods we can’t put in a safe place.’
He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Why, to protect the stock during raids – Miss Billington does all she can to keep the store ticking over at all times. We’ve not lost one cup and saucer due to enemy action,’ she said proudly.
‘Your Miss Billington is quite the company woman, isn’t she?’ he commented with a small smirk.
‘Aren’t we all, Mr Guttridge, aren’t we all,’ she replied primly, not quite making out what this man was up to. They’d have to keep an eye on him.