Home Front Girls (15 page)

They each lifted their cup as the hum of the store canteen went on around them.

A royal proclamation made on New Year’s Day declared that two million young men were about to be called up, thus proving Miranda Smythe to be right. People’s spirits dropped still further as young men went in hordes to the recruiting offices.

‘There soon won’t be a bloke worth looking at left in Coventry,’ Annabelle moaned. She and Dotty were at Lucy’s house and they were all feeling a bit sorry for themselves, especially Annabelle. ‘Fancy,’ she said, ‘I actually stayed in on New Year’s Eve. No party, no dance,
nothing
!’

‘I don’t think anyone was really in the mood for celebrating this year,’ Lucy said.

Dotty nodded in agreement. ‘You’re right, and the weather isn’t helping either. I’m sure it’s trying to snow and it’s absolutely bitter out.’

‘Oh super, that’s all we need.’ Annabelle rolled her eyes skywards. ‘Everything seems to be doom and gloom at the moment.’ Her eyes then rested on an envelope on the mantelshelf and suddenly forgetting all her gripes, she asked, ‘Is that a letter from Joel?’ Just thinking about him made her heart beat faster.

‘Yes, it is.’ Lucy had read it so many times in the two days since it had arrived that she almost knew it word for word. ‘He’s going to be shipped out within the next two weeks, but the good news is he’s hoping to get another two days’ leave before they go.’

‘Oh, and when will that be? And I thought he was being shipped out straight after his last leave.’ Annabelle was doing her best not to sound too interested and failing dismally.

‘So did we,’ Lucy agreed. ‘And I have no idea why the plans were changed. But he could be coming home on leave any day now.’ Her face lit up at the thought of seeing her brother again, although she was worried sick about him being posted abroad. But then he was only one of thousands and she knew that all across the country, wives, mothers, sisters and lovers must be feeling exactly the same.

Annabelle felt a little bubble of excitement form in her stomach. ‘You shall have to ask us round to say goodbye to him and wish him well,’ she remarked casually, but she didn’t fool Lucy for a second.

‘Of course you’re always welcome,’ the girl answered winking at Dotty. ‘And I’m sure Joel would like to see you too.’

The January sales started the next day and when the girls arrived at Owen Owen they were shocked to see people queuing along the street.

‘Looks like we’re going to be busy again if the crowd outside is anything to go by,’ Annabelle declared as they trudged towards the staff cloakroom. ‘I’ve never seen such a queue! Do they think we’re going to be giving the stuff away or something?’

‘Well, you know what they say – the early bird catches the worm, and according to the Home Service, some people have been queuing all night in London to get the best bargains,’ Lucy said. ‘Think of it this way – if we’re busy, the time will go quicker.’

‘Trust you to look on the bright side,’ Annabelle bridled as she hung her coat up and checked her hair in the mirror above the sink. They then all darted off on their separate ways, wondering if they would even have time for their breaks or their lunch-hours.

‘Miss Smythe, there is another customer waiting to be served,’ the head of the perfume department barked at Annabelle an hour later.

‘I am well aware of that fact,’ Annabelle snapped back. ‘But unfortunately I haven’t yet mastered the art of serving more than one customer at a time!’

‘Why,
really
!’ The woman was enraged. ‘I shall be reporting you to Mrs Broadstairs,’ she sputtered.

‘Well, before you do that, why don’t you get behind the counter and help me to serve?’ Annabelle suggested tartly, enraging the irate woman even more. Even so, she joined Annabelle and between them the queue of people waiting to be served did start to go down a little more quickly.

There was no chance of a morning break but at last the girls were given permission to go for a shortened lunch break and they all met up in the staff dining room.

‘My God, I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Dotty said as they stood at the counter waiting to be served with beans on toast. ‘I’ve actually had two ladies almost come to blows over a length of reduced material that they both made a beeline for this morning. I had to use all my wits to calm them down.’

‘It hasn’t been much better in the children’s department,’ Lucy said.

‘Nor in perfumes and cosmetics,’ Annabelle chipped in. ‘I ran out of Elizabeth Arden’s Blue Grass within an hour and the customers have really been having a go at me, as if it was
my
fault! I’ll tell you, at one point I was ready to walk out – and blow the job!’

They all saw the funny side of it then and carried their trays to the table with grins on their faces. After all, the worst of the sales rush should be over now, shouldn’t it?

It was on the third day back at work that Lucy informed them that Joel was home.

‘He’s meeting me from work this evening so we could all go for a cup of tea again, if you like,’ she suggested.

‘Unfortunately I can’t,’ Dotty apologised. ‘I have Miss Timms coming to see me at the flat tonight and I don’t want her to arrive and for me not to be there.’

‘But I could come – I don’t have anything planned,’ Annabelle told Lucy hastily.

‘Right, we’ll do that then,’ Lucy agreed, and for the rest of the day Annabelle found that she could think of nothing else.

When they left the store they found Joel waiting for them with a worried frown on his face. ‘I’ve had to leave Mary with Mrs P,’ he informed Lucy. ‘She’s got a terrible cough on her so I think we should head straight home.’

‘But I invited Annabelle to come to the café with us.’ Lucy said, then a thought occurred to her and she turned to her friend. ‘Why don’t you come home with us and have dinner? That would be all right, wouldn’t it, Joel?’

‘Of course it would.’ He was painfully aware of Annabelle standing next to him and was secretly thrilled at Lucy’s suggestion. ‘I’m sure we can rustle up enough for another mouth.’

And so they set off side by side for the bus station and when their bus came in Lucy watched Joel slip into the seat next to Annabelle.

‘So, Lucy tells me that you’ll be off soon then?’ Annabelle couldn’t keep the concern from her voice and Joel stared at her in the dim light. Could it be that Annabelle was as attracted to him as he was to her? But then he dismissed that idea. What would a girl like her want to waste time on the likes of him for? She was from a different class. The way she spoke, the way she dressed, the way she held herself, and everything else about her told him so – and yet . . .

He nodded and cleared his throat. ‘Yes, I will. We haven’t been told officially, but it looks like we’re going to be shipped out to either Norway or France – and then God knows when I’ll get home again.’ He refrained from saying
if ever
– but it was a fear he had. What would happen to Lucy and Mary if he was killed? He and Annabelle both fell silent then as the bus trundled on through the darkened streets.

Once back at home, Joel headed for the kitchen where he had a rabbit stew simmering in the oven. Mrs P was sitting at the side of the fire with Mary on her lap.

‘Poor little lamb,’ she said. ‘Proper under the weather so she is, but then it’s hardly suprisin’, is it, wi’ the weather as it is? That’s why I told Joel I’d come round here to watch ’er till yer got back. Saves takin’ her out in the cold, don’t it? But now as you are back I’ll be off. My Fred’ll be shoutin’ fer his dinner soon.’ She stood up and handed Mary to Lucy, then with a friendly nod in Annabelle’s direction, she headed for the door.

Whilst Lucy got Mary undressed in front of the fire, Annabelle asked, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’

‘No, thanks, but you could stay and keep me company while I dish this up,’ he responded as he lifted some plates down from the dresser.

‘It must be a comfort to you to know that Lucy has Mrs P next door,’ Annabelle said. ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’

‘She is that,’ he agreed. ‘Salt of the earth, is our Mrs P. But I do worry about how Lucy will cope when Mary is evacuated. You’ve probably noticed that she adores her, and there are only a few weeks to go now.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep my eye on her for you,’ Annabelle promised and was shocked to hear herself say it. Since when had she worried about anyone but herself? She was even more shocked to realise that she meant it. ‘You just worry about keeping yourself safe,’ she went on, and again she could hardly believe that she had said it. She might just as well have come right out and said that she cared about him.

Joel paused to stare at her and their eyes locked, but then Lucy broke the spell when she asked, ‘So how is this dinner coming along? I’m starving and I’m sure you must be hungry too, Annabelle. We didn’t get to have much of a break at lunch-time, did we?’

They all carried their plates to the table, and once they had eaten Annabelle helped Joel with the pots while Lucy put Mary to bed.

Crikey, I really am getting domesticated, Annabelle thought as she dried the dishes, yet strangely she didn’t mind so long as it meant being with Joel.

‘Will you be able to write to Lucy from wherever you’re posted to?’ she asked.

He nodded. ‘I dare say so, though the letters will be heavily censored, and of course there’s no saying how long they’ll take to get through.’ Then shyly, ‘If you were to give me your address I could write to you too, if you like.’

‘I would like that.’ Annabelle smiled at him and they finished the rest of the washing and drying up in a harmonious silence, content just to be in each other’s company.

Later that evening, Joel walked her to the bus stop and they stood facing each other awkwardly as they waited for the bus to come.

‘Take care of yourself then,’ Annabelle said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.

They heard the bus coming along the road, and leaning forward, he suddenly self-consciously pecked her on the cheek. ‘You too,’ he muttered, and then he was striding away with his hands tucked deep in his pockets.

On 8 January 1940, for the first time since 1918, ration books were introduced. Butter, sugar, tea, bacon and all the food that had previously been taken for granted were suddenly very precious. Then to make things even worse, as the month progressed the weather conditions worsened, and on 17 January the River Thames froze over – something that had last happened in 1888.

‘Brrr, it’s enough to make yer want to stay in bed,’ Mrs P shivered one evening when Lucy arrived after work to collect Mary. Thankfully, the child’s cough had improved but she still wasn’t completely better and Lucy hated leaving her, especially as the time for her to be evacuated drew closer. Mrs P’s Anderson shelter was now completed and she had spent a lot of time making it as comfortable as she could – just in case it was needed, as she pointed out. Fred had built bunk-beds along one wall from pallets that he had collected from the market, and Mrs P had dragged two thin mattresses in there along with a selection of old bedding that she had stored over the years. There was also an old easy chair and candles so that they would not have to sit in the dark.

‘If the sirens should ever go off, don’t you hesitate to get yourself an’ little Mary round here,’ she drummed into Lucy. ‘There ain’t much protection to be had from fallin’ bombs beneath a kitchen table.’

Yet more shelters had now been finished all over the city, and every time Lucy passed them she shuddered and prayed that they would never be needed. But word of what was happening in the war was not promising. The papers were full of the 152 lives that had been lost when the
Dunbar Castle
had been sunk by a German mine off the Goodwin Sands, and a further thirty-two lives were lost when German planes attacked another twelve ships, sinking three of them.

‘Things ain’t lookin’ good,’ Mrs P remarked worriedly. ‘I just pray that our Freddy an’ your Joel are all right, that’s all.’

There had been no word from either of them, although both women waited hopefully each morning for the postman to arrive.

‘It said on the wireless earlier on that the government is bein’ urged to give women the same wages an’ conditions as men now,’ Mrs P informed Lucy as she helped Mary into her coat. ‘They reckon they’re goin’ to be given trainin’ an’ that there’ll be an influx of women into the war industries. Stands to reason there’ll have to be, don’t it? I mean, who else can do it if the men are all away at war?’

Lucy took Mary by the hand, ready to leave. ‘Try not to worry too much,’ the girl said gently, but she knew that it would be easier said than done. Mrs P was a ‘born worrier’ as her Fred was always telling her.

‘Fred was sayin’ that they’re movin’ the bomber parts they’re makin’ from some of the factories like the Daimler, the Dunlop, the Humber an’ so on to shadow factories on the outskirts of the city to reduce the threat of aerial attacks an’ bombin’ away from the residential areas.’

‘Well, that’s good then, isn’t it?’ Lucy questioned.

‘Aye, I dare say it is, but it makes yer realise things are gettin’ worse though, don’t it?’

‘I suppose it does,’ Lucy admitted sadly. ‘But now I’d best be getting home. To tell you the truth I’m dead on my feet and looking forward to spending a night in front of the fire with another of Dotty’s stories.’