Home Front Girls (18 page)

‘No, I haven’t,’ Dotty answered truthfully. ‘And yes, I’ve always loved writing. I was brought up in an orphanage, so writing gave me something to do.’ She saw a flicker of sadness flash in Robert’s eyes but assured him, ‘We were very well treated.’

‘That’s good then.’ He studied her more closely, making her blush and lower her eyes. She was an attractive little thing in a funny sort of way, he thought. Not pretty in the conventional sense, but there was an air of vulnerability about her that he found appealing.

She, meanwhile, was trying to judge his age and put him at somewhere around thirty.

‘Do you have no family at all?’ Laura asked as she handed Dotty a cup of tea.

Dotty shook her head. ‘Not that I know of, but I was very close to one of the workers at the orphanage. Still am, as it happens. She was like a substitute mother to me.’

Laura felt sad. She couldn’t begin to imagine how lonely life must have been for this poor girl, having come from a large family herself. But then she pulled her thoughts back to business and began to explain to Dotty how they would want their stories set out in future and what length, what sort of stories they should be, et cetera.

Soon Dotty’s head was spinning. There was so much to remember. She had always assumed you just wrote a story and that was it, but it was now apparent that there was a right way to do it.

Eventually Robert said to her, ‘And now I suppose you’d like to know how much we shall be paying for these stories?’ His eyes were twinkling with amusement while Dotty squirmed with embarrassment. ‘We thought that four pounds per story would be a fair price. Does that sound all right to you, Dotty?’

She blinked in amazement. That was almost as much as she earned at Owen Owen for a whole
month
. She was going to be rich!

‘For that we would want a short story delivered to us by a certain date each month so that we could edit it and get it ready for publication: do you think you could manage that?’ he went on, giving her a moment to compose herself.

She nodded, hardly able to take it all in and feeling totally out of her depth.

‘Of course, I’m sure there will be some here that we can use,’ Laura added, patting the small pile on the desk. ‘If you don’t mind leaving them with us to look through, that is. Then you won’t be under pressure to deliver any more for a few months at least, and it will give you time to obtain a typewriter.’

‘Right. Well, now we have all that sorted out I suggest I take you out to lunch to celebrate, young lady,’ Robert told her. ‘Laura has a contract all ready for you to sign. We’ll get you to do that on the way out, shall we? It will be a twelvemonth contract to begin with, if that’s all right with you?’

Dotty merely nodded again, too dumbstruck to answer. This sort of thing didn’t happen to girls like her . . . did it? Perhaps it was all a dream and she would wake up in a minute?

But then she knew that it wasn’t a dream when Robert came around the desk and, taking her elbow, steered her towards the door as he asked, ‘Have you ever been to London before?’

She could feel the warmth of his one good hand right the way through her coat and her suit. ‘N-no, I haven’t,’ she stuttered.

‘Then I think a little sightseeing tour might be in order before we go for lunch. Unless you have to catch the train home, that is?’

‘Not until five o’clock.’

‘Good.’

They followed Laura to a desk where she had a document all ready for Dotty to sign. ‘Do read through it,’ she urged in a very professional manner. ‘Basically it just says that you will deliver twelve short stories to us for the next twelve months.’

Dotty did as she was told before signing her name with a wobbly hand. Then Laura said goodbye and before she knew it, Robert was leading her outside. Dotty was secretly relieved. Laura had been very nice to her, but she was so attractive and efficient that Dotty had found her slightly intimidating. Once on the pavement, Robert raised his good hand and a shiny black cab almost instantly pulled into the kerb.

‘Won’t they mind you being away from the office for so long?’ Dotty asked as she scrambled into the cab in a most unladylike manner.

Robert leaned forward and told the driver where to go before sitting back in his seat and chuckling. ‘I doubt it, seeing as I’m the boss. What I should say is – I own the magazine.’

‘Really?’ Dotty was shocked. He must be a very rich man indeed yet he had no airs and graces whatsoever.

Soon Robert was pointing out places of interest as they cruised by them. St Paul’s Cathedral, the Bank of England, then back down to Trafalgar Square and on through Whitehall past Number 10, Downing Street to see Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, followed by Buckingham Palace and many other places that Dotty had only ever seen in pictures. And then eventually the cab drew up outside an expensive-looking restaurant and after paying the driver Robert helped Dotty out onto the pavement.

Dotty’s cheeks were glowing by then and she couldn’t remember ever enjoying herself so much. Robert took her into the restaurant where a smart waiter in a black suit and a bow-tie took their coats and escorted them to a table by the window.

‘Please order whatever takes your fancy,’ Robert told her as the waiter handed her a menu, and once again Dotty felt lost. She had been brought up on very plain food and everything on the menu looked so fancy and expensive. She couldn’t even understand what half of it was.

‘Would you like me to order for you?’ Robert asked after a time as he saw her discomfort.

‘Yes, please,’ she whispered, feeling like a country yokel.

‘Is there anything that you particularly don’t like?’

She shook her head and seconds later, he summoned the waiter and gave him their order then told him, ‘Oh, and we’ll have a bottle of your finest champagne too, if you please.’

‘Certainly, sir.’

Dotty’s eyes stretched even wider. Champagne? She had only ever tried a glass of wine at the staff party and she had suffered for it the next day.

The meal was like nothing she had ever eaten before, and as one delicious course followed another she began to relax a little as she found that Robert was remarkably good company and very easy to talk to.

‘Do you live in London?’ she dared to ask over their hors d’oeuvre, which were mushrooms cooked in garlic sauce. Dotty was certain she had never tasted anything so delicious before in her whole life.

‘Yes, I have a flat in Knightsbridge,’ he told her. ‘It was my mother’s but I inherited both the flat and the magazine when she passed away last year. It’s a bit big for me really, but I suppose I’m too idle to look around for something a little smaller.’

‘Do you live alone then?’ Dotty asked in surprise before she could stop herself. She had imagined he would be married. He was far too nice not to be, and he had seemed so relaxed in Laura’s company that perhaps there was something between them?

‘Yes, I do,’ and then he grinned as if he could read her thoughts. ‘There aren’t many women who would want to take me on full-time with this.’ He jiggled his withered arm. ‘And besides, to be honest I’ve always been too busy to think of getting married.’ He peered at her. ‘But what about you? Do you have a boy friend?’

‘Oh no,’ Dotty told him quickly and when she fell silent and lowered her eyes, he looked at her curiously. She was very timid and obviously lacking in confidence, which was a shame as he found her quite charming. Sort of unspoiled, which he considered was a rare thing these days.

The main course came then and once again Dotty loved it. Beef cooked in red wine sauce with a variety of vegetables and crispy roast potatoes. The waiter popped the cork on the champagne and Dotty giggled as she sipped at it and the bubbles went up her nose.

Dessert was a pear flan with whipped cream and then they ended the meal with coffee. By then Dotty had drunk two glasses of champagne and her eyes were sparkling.

‘Thank you so much for a lovely day and a lovely meal,’ she sighed. She was so full that she was sure she wouldn’t be able to eat another thing for at least a month. The meal she had just had was certainly a far cry from the penny bowls of soup she usually had in the works canteen.

‘It was my pleasure,’ he assured her as he beckoned to the waiter for the bill. ‘And the next time you come to see us, we shall do it again.’

‘Next time?’ Dotty raised her eyebrows questioningly.

‘Oh yes, Laura and I will want to see you every three or four months at least, so that we can discuss what sort of stories we’d like you to write.’

Dotty felt a tingle of excitement, although she noticed that he had mentioned Laura again. They left the restaurant and once outside he glanced at his watch before saying, ‘You have forty minutes before your train leaves. We’re only about ten minutes away from Euston: would you like to walk there or would you rather take a taxi?’

‘I think I’d rather walk,’ she answered. The champagne had made her feel quite tiddly and she thought the fresh air might do her good. ‘But if you point me in the right direction I’m sure I shall find the station by myself,’ she added. ‘I wouldn’t want to put you out.’

‘It won’t be putting me out. In fact, I’d rather like a bit of a stroll myself to walk some of that lunch off. Come on – put your arm through mine. I don’t want you falling on these slippery pavements.’

She shyly slipped her arm through his, and as they were walking towards the station it started to snow.

‘I’ve been expecting this for days,’ he remarked. ‘I’m just glad it didn’t come in time to stop you getting here. I’ve really enjoyed today.’

‘So have I,’ she said, and she meant it.

Once inside the station he guided her to the right platform. ‘The train should be in any time now,’ he told her. ‘Would you like me to wait with you?’

‘Not at all, I shall be fine. You’ve wasted quite enough of your time on me today as it is.’

‘I don’t consider I’ve wasted a single second,’ he told her sincerely. ‘And I hope this will be the start of a long working relationship. Goodbye, Dotty, I’ll be in touch soon.’

He turned and walked away then and she stood there and watched until he was swallowed up by the crowd.

It had been a truly unforgettable day.

As February 1940 drew to a close the worst storms of the century swept across the country and many areas ground to a halt as people found themselves snowed in and cut off from the world. The buses and trams in Coventry were having difficulty getting about, which gave Annabelle an excuse not to turn in to work, much to her mother’s annoyance.

‘Come on, Annabelle,’ Miranda urged one morning after entering her daughter’s bedroom and shaking her shoulder. ‘You still have time to get to work if you get a move on.’

‘I’m not going,’ Annabelle ground out, snuggling further down under the blankets.

‘But you’ll get the sack at this rate. You’ve missed two days already this week.’

‘So what? I hate the damn job,’ Annabelle snapped. ‘There are loads of staff can’t get in. They’ll understand. Hardly anyone is venturing out to shop anyway,’ she finished lamely.

Miranda sighed as she straightened up. She knew better than to argue with Annabelle when she had made her mind up about something. The girl had seemed depressed and distracted for a couple of weeks, now that she came to think about it – ever since the day the letter from Lucy’s brother had arrived, as a matter of fact. Annabelle had told her nothing of what the letter had contained, apart from that Joel had been shipped out, and now she wondered if Annabelle had feelings for him? He certainly didn’t sound like the sort of young man her daughter usually favoured, though. She had never made a secret of the fact that she wanted a rich husband who could keep her in the manner she had become accustomed to, and Miranda really couldn’t see Joel being rich.

Sighing, she went downstairs to the kitchen where she filled the kettle and put it on to boil as she stared through the window at a mountain of snow.

Upstairs, Annabelle took Joel’s letter from beneath her pillow and read it through again even though she now knew it off by heart.

Dear Belle
, he had written, and the abbreviation of her name made her smile. Hardly anyone had ever shortened her name before and she quite liked it when he did it.
I thought I would just drop you a line as promised. I hope you are keeping well and not suffering too much with the bad weather. I am now in
. . . The word had been censored and was unreadable but Annabelle had a funny feeling that he might be in France. The letter continued:

I hope you had a good Christmas. Mine was pretty grotty as you can imagine, being stuck here away from the family, but then I shouldn’t grumble as the rest of the chaps are all in the same boat. I’d like to think that we might get leave again soon but it doesn’t look likely for the foreseeable future.

Anyway, I’ve never been much of a one for letter-writing, and there’s not much more to tell, but I just didn’t want you to think I had forgotten you. I hope you are keeping your eye on Lucy and Mary for me.

Kind regards,