Читать книгу Better Days will Come - Pam Weaver - Страница 10

Every day seemed like a week to Grace. She was on ‘Packing’ in the factory. The sweaters came off the production line and were put into boxes. It was the job of her and her colleagues to steam any creases out and fold the sweaters neatly, three in a box lined with tissue paper. They worked at a table, in pairs, facing each other.

The new factory was a lot more modern than the old one. In the morning, they played Housewives’ Choice over the radio and at lunchtime they heard Workers’ Playtime in the canteen. The people around her hummed and sang as they worked but Grace wasn’t really listening. Her thoughts were where they had been for the past ten days – with Bonnie. She had waited a whole week and then she had pawned the brooch she had inherited from Michael’s mother. She had always intended to give it to the daughter who got married first. She would have given it to her before they set out for the church on her wedding day but there was no time for sentiment now. She had to find Bonnie.

She’d gone to the pawnbroker along the High Street. It was a dingy little shop, dark and cluttered, and she’d taken the fifteen shillings he’d offered without quibbling. It was probably worth a lot more than that, but there was no time to argue. All she had wanted was to get on the train first thing on Saturday morning.

She’d scoured the concourse at Victoria station and stopped tens of people to ask if they had seen Bonnie. She was met with blank stares, nervous frowns, some hostile reactions and a few sympathetic conversations but nobody remembered seeing her daughter.

‘There was one young woman,’ the station master had told her, ‘but she was looking for her husband.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ Grace had asked.

The station master had leaned towards her as he made a circular movement with his finger next to his forehead. ‘I think she was probably some poor sod who couldn’t get over the death of her old man,’ he said confidentially. ‘We get them all the time. Sometimes a relative will come for them but, worst case scenario, they jump under a train.’

Grace shuddered. ‘When did you last see her?’

The station master shrugged. ‘Couple of days ago?’ They were both together in his office. As he spoke, a bell began to clang behind him. He stood up and put on his jacket. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me …’

‘My daughter is eighteen and she has lovely brown hair,’ Grace said quickly. ‘She wears it tied at the back, like this. She’s very pretty.’

The station master ushered her out of the door and put on his hat. ‘This one had a beret,’ he said as he hurried away.

‘You’ve got four on that pile.’ Grace heard Snowy’s voice but she was still deep in thought. Bonnie was a capable girl but Grace worried that she wasn’t looking after herself properly in London. Was it possible she was with that man? Who was he anyway? She never talked about him, not properly anyway. What if she’d fallen in with a bad lot? What if some awful man went for her – could Bonnie take care of herself? How was she going to live with no job? Grace realised Bonnie had taken all the money from the green tin; and why not? It was her own money; but she knew Bonnie had been saving it for Christmas. Grace had no real idea how much was in the tin, but it probably wouldn’t last long.

‘Grace, I said, you’ve got four sweaters on that pile.’

Grace looked up as Phyllis Snow, Snowy as they all called her, put a hand over hers. At the same time, Snowy jerked her head towards the door.

Grace shook her head. ‘Oh sorry.’ She quickly rearranged the sweaters before Norah Fox, their supervisor, spotted her mistake. She was coming their way.

The sweaters were lovely colours, one powder blue, one pink and the other an oyster white. Lovely and soft too. Pity they were all going to Canada, Grace thought. After all the hardships of war, everybody looked forward to a bit of luxury in the home markets but it was a long time coming.

‘Time for your break, girls,’ said Norah.

Snowy linked one arm with Grace and the other with Kaye Wilcox as they headed for the canteen. ‘We’ve been worried about you, Grace,’ said Snowy. ‘You’ve not been yourself all week. Anything we can do to help?’

Snowy was a nice woman, about eight or ten years older than Grace, with a matronly figure and steel grey hair arranged in sausage curls around the nape of her neck. Kaye was about thirty with deep-set eyes and raven black hair. She had never married but rumour had it that when she was a young girl she’d had a fling with a married man. Snowy took a packet of Players Navy Cut from the pocket of her wraparound apron and offered one to Grace. Grace shook her head. Kaye put on some more lipstick and rubbed her lips together.

‘Oh, sorry, I forgot you don’t smoke,’ Snowy smiled as they waited in the queue. ‘Now. About your problem, do you want to talk about it?’

Grace could feel her eyes already pricking with tears. She couldn’t bear to make a fool of herself but at the same time shedesperately needed to talk to someone.

Kaye squeezed her arm encouragingly.

‘Come on, love,’ said Snowy taking charge.

‘You know we can keep a secret,’ Kaye encouraged.

They each took their meagre portion of stew and some bread and butter and sat a little way away from the others.

‘My Bonnie has left home,’ said Grace. It took a few minutes to explain the situation and why she was so concerned but Snowy and Kaye were patient listeners.

‘How awful for you,’ said Kaye. ‘She’s not in trouble, is she?’

Grace’s eyes widened. ‘Both my daughters are good girls,’ she said haughtily. She refused to even think about such thing. Thevery idea!

‘Don’t get on your high horse,’ said Snowy. ‘If she is, she wouldn’t be the first now would she?’

Grace’s mouth tightened. ‘I’ll thank you not to cast aspersions.’

‘I didn’t mean anything by it, Grace,’ Kaye protested. She glanced at Snowy for support.

Snowy laid a hand over Grace’s. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Take no notice of me. Perhaps I’ve just seen a bit too much of life.’

But Grace wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness. She picked up her tray and went to join the girls on another table. She felt sick. She had refused to let herself think that. Bonnie in trouble. Dear God, that was it. Why else would she up sticks and leave like that? No, she wouldn’t believe it. Not Bonnie. Grace recalled what she had said to her when she’d reached sixteen. ‘Now don’t you go bringing trouble home.’ She’d meant it as a caution, but had Bonnie taken it as a threat? Dear Lord, what had she done?

She plonked her tray down next to Poppy Reynolds who interrupted her thoughts. ‘What are you doing this Christmas, Grace?’ Her bright eyes were dancing with excitement. ‘I’m going to the New Year’s Eve Ball at the Assembly Rooms.’

‘How nice,’ Grace smiled. She was happy for her. It was about time the girl had something to look forward to. Poppy had had a difficult war, losing both a brother and her father.

‘My auntie’s making me a smashing dress. It’s got yards and yards in the skirt and it’s so tight around the bodice,’ she leaned forward confidentially, ‘that I won’t have to wear a bra.’

‘Better watch out for those boys with their wandering hands then, Poppy,’ laughed one of the other girls and Poppy’s face went pink.

Grace picked at her food. She normally enjoyed listening to their banter, or joining in with the laughter when Gert and Daisy said something funny on Workers’ Playtime, but the ache in her chest got worse and worse with each passing day. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so harsh on the girl. She’d never met her boyfriend, but perhaps he wasn’t such a bad lad. It’s was just that giving a young girl a present so early on in their relationship didn’t seem right. If she’d met him, she might have given Bonnie her blessing to go out with him. She might have tried to talk her out of it, but she would have given her blessing in the end. Bonnie was the sort of girl who seized the moment without a thought of the consequences. Grace realised now that she should have sat her down and talked, but she’d been hasty, angry, annoyed. If only she could turn the clock back. What if she had run away with that boy? What if he had left her high and dry? What if Bonnie had come to her senses and wanted to come back home? What if she didn’t have enough money? And what if there was a baby? She hated to think of the poor girl going through all that on her own. Added to the worry about her daughter, money was really tight. It had been difficult enough before, but without Bonnie’s contribution, Grace would be hard pushed to find the rent each week. Perhaps she shouldn’t have spent all that money going up to London to find Bonnie. It was a fruitless exercise anyway. Maybe she should have kept it for more pressing things. Like many in her street, Grace didn’t have a proper rent book. The rent kept going up all the time and shewondered sometimes if that was down to the landlord or the rent collector. Without a proper record, there was no way of knowing. She’d toyed with asking Mr Finley for a rent book, and she’d asked the collector countless times, but his promises never came to anything.

When Mr Chard called to collect the rent last Friday, Grace was four bob short. In the end, she’d borrowed the money from the bit she’d put aside for the coalman, but this week she’d still be four bob short and she’d have both of them to pay.

Kaye stopped by another table to have a word with a friend. Grace looked up as Snowy put a cup of tea on the table beside her. ‘Grace. I really didn’t mean to offend you. Me and my big mouth.’

Grace gave her a thin smile. ‘I know, and I’m sorry I was touchy.’

‘Touchy?’ said Poppy. ‘It’s not like you to be touchy, Grace. What’s up?’

‘Never you mind,’ said Grace. ‘Now tell me a bit more about this ball you’re going to.’

Snowy lived in South Farm Road, and as she and Grace walked part of the way home together, Grace talked a bit more about Bonnie.

‘Listen, girl,’ said Snowy eventually. ‘If you need anything, just let me know.’

‘Thanks, Snowy.’

‘I mean it. I know how hard it can be having your family miles away.’

Snowy’s daughter Kate had met and married an Aussie during the war. He was a lovely man but it had broken her mother’s heart when Kate announced that she was going to live in Australia. It was 12,000 miles away and took six weeks to go by boat. Snowy knew she would never see them again, but she didn’t let that spoil her daughter’s plans. Kate had gone away with her mother’s blessing, a smile and a cheery wave.

Grace squeezed her elbow. ‘I know you do. You’re a good pal.’

‘Are you doing the Thrift Club again this year?’ Snowy, always slightly embarrassed by compliments, changed the subject quickly.

‘Oh, yes and it was so popular last year, I’ve got even more savers this year.’

The Thrift Club. Grace had quite forgotten about that money. It was meant for Christmas but if push came to shove, she could use the money she had saved to pay back what she owed for the rent and the coalman. Suddenly she felt a whole lot better.

When the end of the war came, money was tight. At the beginning of 1946, Grace had had the idea that if she collected a shilling or two every week from her friends and neighbours and put it into a post office savings account, by the end of the year they would have a nice little bit of interest as well as the money they had put in. It had been so successful, she had repeated it this year.

‘Christmas would have been a lean time of it in my house if my family was still living at home,’ said Snowy pulling a face. ‘I kept meaning to save a few bob but I even had to dip into the bit I put aside for the doctor this year. I wish I’d joined.’

‘Do it for next year,’ said Grace. ‘It’s hard enough trying to save but if you put a little bit by each week, it soon mounts up. Perhaps you could have a little holiday.’

‘Fat chance,’ Snowy laughed. ‘With all the shortages, I sometimes wonder who won this bloody war.’

Grace nodded. ‘Mind you, according to the newsreels, Germany is having a rough time of it and all.’

‘Yes, we’re helping them!’ said Snowy acidly. ‘But who’s helping us?’

Grace was forced to agree. It upset her to think of little children going hungry, no matter what the parents had done, but she understood why her friend felt so aggrieved. Snowy’s brother had been killed in Burma and her parents who lived in Southampton had been bombed. Fortunately, their house had been repaired, which was more than could be said for the rest of the street. Almost every other house had been obliterated.

‘I was going to ask you,’ said Grace, changing the subject back again. ‘I’m going to draw the club money on Friday 12th and count it out.’

‘I’m sure you’ll make a good job of it,’ said Snowy. ‘You’re good at sums.’

‘It’s not that,’ said Grace. ‘I want to make sure everything is completely above board. I’ve kept good books throughout the year and I want someone to check my records and sign that it’s all legit.’

‘Sounds reasonable enough,’ said Snowy.

‘It protects me more than anything else,’ said Grace. ‘Could you come and help me with the count?’

They had reached Snowy’s gate. ‘When do you want me to come over?’

‘It’s half day,’ said Grace. ‘About three?’

‘Make sure you’ve got the kettle on,’ Snowy grinned.

With a friendly wave, Grace walked on, hardly noticing that just as she passed the Beehive Tea Rooms, a car drew alongside her and the passenger door opened. It was Norris Finley.

‘Get in, will you, Grace. I have something I want to tell you.’

‘Can’t you tell me at work?’

‘It’s private.’

Grace’s heart leapt. Had he found Bonnie? She looked around to make sure nobody was about and jumped into the car quickly. They finished early at the factory on Fridays and sometimes, if Rita was late out of the grammar school, they walked home together. Grace didn’t want Rita seeing her getting into someone’s car. As she closed the door, Norris turned the car sharply and they headed down St Lawrence Avenue.

‘Where are we going?’

‘We need to talk,’ he said mysteriously. ‘Let’s find somewhere quiet.’

‘You promised me a rent book,’ she said running her fingers through her hair nervously.

‘Yes, yes, and you’ll get one.’

‘I can’t afford another rent rise.’

He patted her leg in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. ‘I’ll make sure you get no more rises, Grace. All right?’

‘I still want the rent book.’

‘All right!’ he snapped. He sped up the car.

‘Norris, I have to get back home,’ she protested. ‘You’re taking me miles away.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll get you back.’ He drove on until they’d reached Durrington where he turned into the rough track called Pond Lane before he stopped the car.

She waited anxiously. This was beginning to feel unpleasant. ‘So? What is it you want to tell me?’

He turned to her. ‘We’ve always been good friends, haven’t we, Grace?’

Grace stiffened. ‘Hardly,’ she snapped. ‘You took advantage of me when I was young and silly and you were old enough to know better. We have nothing in common.’

He smiled. ‘Nothing?’

Grace felt her face flame. ‘If it hadn’t have been for my Michael, my life would have been ruined.’

‘There you go again,’ he said, ‘being melodramatic.’

‘Just say what you want to say and then take me back,’ she said irritably.

‘Grace,’ he said, his voice becoming gentle. He touched her sleeve but she snatched her arm away. ‘I know you’re having a hard time. Look at you. Your coat is practically threadbare, your dress is darned …’

She could feel her face colouring with embarrassment. ‘I’ve just been to work,’ she said indignantly. ‘I’m hardly going to put on my best togs to go to the factory, am I?’

‘You deserve better. I could change all that. You know I’ve always liked you. I mean, really liked you.’

His words hung between them in the electrically charged atmosphere. She turned her head slowly.

‘It’s been three years since your Michael died,’ he went on quickly. ‘You must have needs, Grace.’ His hand was on her knee again. ‘I have needs too.’

She jerked his hand away. ‘You have a wife!’

‘She doesn’t give me what I want, Grace.’ He was giving her that hangdog look of his.

‘For God’s sake!’ she snapped. ‘I’m not sixteen any more. If that’s all you’ve got to say, take me back.’

It was obvious he wasn’t ready to give up. ‘We could come to some arrangement. I really want to be with you, Grace. You’ve still got your looks and a bit of powder and a new hairdo would do wonders for you.’

‘How dare you!’ She was furious. Mostly with herself for believing he had anything honourable to say but also for being stupid enough to get into his car. She should have known where this was leading. ‘I want to go home.’

‘I could make your life so much easier,’ he went on. ‘How about I set up an account for you in the new Hubbard’s? It’s a lovely modern store and you could buy any dress you like.’

Grace grabbed the car door handle, but he held her back. ‘If you won’t do it for yourself, think about that girl of yours. I could get her into secretarial college. If she passes the exam, she could get a really good job, something with prospects. You’d likeyour girl to get on, wouldn’t you, Grace?’

‘Now look here, Norris,’ she said coldly. ‘I’m not going to be anybody’s tart. Me and mine are not for sale.’

His hand went up her skirt and groped for her knickers. ‘Come on, girl,’ he said huskily. ‘You know you’d like it. You used to be a little firebrand when you were young. I reckon I could relight that fire again.’

She flung her hand at his face and her finger caught him in the eye. He sprang back into his seat with a howl of pain and lashed out with his arm, hitting her on the side of her head. ‘You stupid cow,’ he spat. Now Grace wasn’t sure what to do. The most sensible thing would be to get out and walk but he had brought her at least three, maybe four miles from home. In the split second before opening the door and getting out, she heard voices. Grace glanced behind them and saw a woman and her three children heading in their direction. Up ahead was a little thatched cottage. There were no other houses in the lane. The woman most likely lived there.

‘Norris,’ she said as firmly as she could despite the sickening feeling gripping her whole body, ‘are you going to turn this car around and take me home or am I going to scream blue bloody murder and let that woman call the police?’

Without another word, he started the car. They drove back in silence but as he dropped her near the crossing, he snatched her arm again. ‘Think about it, Grace. I could cut your rent if you prefer. I’ll wait to hear from you.’

‘Then you’ll have a bloody long wait.’

As she slammed the door, he pointed a finger at the glass and shouted, ‘I’m warning you, Grace Rogers. You’d be a fool to make an enemy of me.’