Heartache for the Shop Girls. Joanna Toye
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the table. In the scullery he scraped the leftover stew into a dish and put a plate on top of it while a kettle boiled for the washing up. There was something infinitely depressing about the greasy plates and he shook more washing soda than was needed into the sink, plunging his hands in the too-hot water in penance.
He was drying his stinging hands when there was a tap on the back door. No one ever called at night, and Jim stiffened. Not long ago the navigator from a crashed German reconnaissance plane had knocked on a cottage door in a neighbouring village, tied up the occupants and then stole money, food and clothes before being captured.
‘Who is it?’
‘Only me!’
‘Margaret?’
‘I came to see how you were getting on,’ she explained as he let her in. ‘I thought if I put your mum to bed, you could get off a bit earlier.’
‘You’re very kind,’ said Jim, moved. She was a nice girl, turning out like this after a long day of her own. ‘But she’s gone to bed early, thankfully.’
‘Oh.’
‘I’m leaving myself soon. I’ll walk you back. You shouldn’t be out on your own.’
‘It’s all right. Dad’s going to pick me up, he’s gone to an NFU meeting. So I’ll stay anyway and sit with her. And – look – I wanted to give you this.’
From the pocket of her old mac she produced a brown paper parcel.
‘For me?’
‘It’s nothing. Honestly.’
As she was talking, Jim was unwrapping the parcel. He brought out a dark blue knitted scarf, beautifully made with a tasselled fringe.
‘That’s … you shouldn’t have!’
Margaret blushed.
‘I noticed the one you had was a bit … tatty. In fact, your mum said it was a disgrace, and as she can’t knit any more …’
Jim grimaced. There was some truth in his mother’s opinion, but if she or Margaret thought the holes were wear and tear, they were wrong. That was just Lily’s knitting.
‘Now the nights are getting colder,’ smiled Margaret, ‘it’ll be chilly on those station platforms. I don’t like to think of you catching cold.’
‘I’ll wear it tonight,’ said Jim. ‘Thank you.’
He leant forward and gave her a peck on the cheek. She really was a very nice girl.
The journey back was no more lengthy or tedious than usual, but Jim’s mood was low. From what she’d said at supper, he knew his mother would never give him and Lily her blessing, and as her only son, that mattered to him, especially now she’d been robbed of so many other things in life.
As he sat on the final train, with Margaret’s scarf tucked against his chest, he felt complete despair. Even if Margaret had made it in all innocence, his mother had goaded her into it and made her a partner in her conspiracy. With every turn of the wheels, Jim worked himself up into a frenzy of guilt. He should never have accepted it. It was deeply disloyal to Lily. But it was very warm …
Exhausted, he dropped off to sleep, only woken by the train slamming against the buffers when they arrived in Hinton. Outside the station, he tore off the scarf as if it was choking him and stuffed it in the inside pocket of his coat. He extracted Lily’s holey offering from his knapsack and wound it round his neck. He felt the difference straight away: it was spitting with rain and the night air pierced his throat, but he set off walking smartly and swung his arms to keep warm.
‘Who was that well-set-up fellow you swanned off with last night?’ demanded Gladys the next morning as she and Lily put their things away in the staff cloakroom. Gladys had been deep in conversation with Brenda from Books on their way out the previous evening, but Lily had felt her friend’s eyes on her like searchlights as she’d set off with Frank. She’d been expecting an interrogation.
‘His name’s Frank Bryant,’ she answered evenly. ‘He’s the new Ward and Keppler rep. I met him – well, he introduced himself – when Miss Frobisher and I went over there.’
Gladys made saucer eyes, agog.
‘You never said!’
‘Yes, I did. I said the new rep had looked in.’
‘You didn’t say he wasn’t much older than us! I thought you meant someone about fifty!’
‘Well, if that was your assumption, I’m sorry.’
Lily spoke more tartly than she’d meant to. But why hadn’t she said, actually?
‘So what was he doing looking you up here?’ persisted Gladys.
‘He’s on his rounds,’ shrugged Lily. ‘He’s seeing Miss Frobisher today. And calling on Burrell’s as well.’
‘So what did he want with you?’
Honestly, some days Gladys could have given the Secret Intelligence Service a run for their money. Lily shoved her gas mask case so fiercely into the back of her locker that the whole row rattled.
‘A bit of company, that’s all. We went for a cup of tea at Lyons.’
‘Company? Well!’
Gladys managed to invest the final ‘Well!’ with amazement, admiration, curiosity and a large pinch of scandal. Lily turned on her.
‘There’s no need to say it like that! He was on his own in a strange town. He simply wanted a friendly face.’
‘Are you sure that’s all he wanted?’
Enough was enough. Lily slammed the locker door.
‘Gladys! Not long ago you were walking me up the aisle with Jim! Who do you think I am, Mata Hari? We just went for a cup of tea, I’m telling you.’
‘He’s very good-looking.’
‘Is he?’ said Lily offhandedly. ‘Well, if he is, he knows it. He’s certainly rather cocky. Not my type at all.’
‘Even so. Are you seeing him again?’
‘I doubt it! I expect he went on to the pub. Someone like him’ll have hundreds of friends in Hinton by now.’
‘Hmm!’
‘There you go again! Why don’t you fold your arms and put a scarf over your curlers? Then you can really act like some scandalised old biddy. I’m not going to keep it from Jim, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘I’m surprised you went in the first place, that’s all. What time did Jim get back?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Lily firmly, beginning to move away. ‘Middle of the night, I suppose. He’d already left for work when I got up this morning, but his things were downstairs. Now come on, or we’ll be late on to the floor.’
Gladys followed obediently as they joined the throng making their way up the worn back stairs that the staff used, but still she wasn’t letting things drop.
‘Why did Jim have to get here so early this morning?’ she asked, trotting up a step behind.
To the annoyance of the staff surging up behind them, Lily stopped dead on the half landing.
‘He’d got stuff to do on The Messenger, all right?’ she said. She was fed up about it herself: she’d hoped they’d walk to work together. ‘He left me a note. Now you know as much as I do, OK?’
‘I was only asking!’
Shocked by her friend’s vehemence, Gladys went