Lizzie's War (5 page)

Lizzie thanked him and watched as he left the showroom. He'd been honest enough to tell her that Bert Oliver was trying to put some of her customers off buying from her. She'd known Harry's uncle was angry with her. He'd jumped to conclusions and blamed her for making Harry miserable and causing him to take his own life, which some people had suspected at the time – until the car was discovered to have been faulty.

‘You're a whore and I'll ruin you,' he'd shouted at her when he'd believed that Harry had killed himself out of desperation over his marriage. Obviously he still blamed Lizzie, even though he must know the car had been the cause of the accident. She could only hope that most of the customers wouldn't believe his lies.

Lizzie spent a couple of hours working on her new designs, and then went into the showroom once more when one of their regular customers came in. He'd ordered fifteen special hats the previous week and his order was ready waiting and boxed.

She smiled at him, ‘I'll fetch your order, Mr Jenkins.'

‘Thank you, Mrs Oliver…' He looked her straight in the eyes as he said, ‘I'm a man of my word, and I'll pay for this order – but I'm afraid it's the last I shall be buying from you…'

Lizzie swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘Would you mind telling me why please? Have we let you down in any way?'

‘No, your designs and your work are as good as ever, but I'm afraid I don't do business with persons of your sort, Mrs Oliver.' He sighed heavily. ‘Oliver is an old friend and after what he told me… women who cheat on men who are risking their lives for this country sicken me.'

‘Would it change your mind if I told you that Mr Oliver had made a terrible mistake?'

‘No, I'm afraid it wouldn't,' he replied and shook his head sorrowfully. ‘There's no smoke without fire – and my customers… well, they are decent ladies and if they thought their hats came from…'

‘Very well, if you prefer to believe lies,' Lizzie said, pride making her cold. ‘I shall fetch your order.' She was tempted to tell him she wouldn't deal with someone who couldn't tell the truth from a scurrilous lie, but couldn't afford to take the risk. Fifteen special hats were a lot and she might be losing a few more customers judging from what the previous two customers had told her.

Lizzie fetched the order and accepted payment.

‘We shall be sorry to lose you, Mr Jenkins,' she said politely as he picked up his order and went to the door. ‘Perhaps one day you will discover your mistake in believing malicious lies.'

He went out without another word and Lizzie returned to the workshop. She sat staring into space, on the verge of tears but refusing to give in to the anger and despair inside her.

‘What is it, Lizzie?' Ed's voice brought her head up sharply.

‘Mr Jenkins has been told something about me – and he won't be ordering from us again… and Mr Harris had heard the same, but he doesn't believe in listening to tales…'

‘Damn Jenkins for hurting you!' Ed said and looked furious. ‘Oliver is behind this, mark my words. He told me he intended to ruin you if he could and he's a mean vindictive old devil.'

‘Harry's death hurt him,' Lizzie said and sighed. ‘I expect he misses him, and Betty too, and I imagine Aunt Miriam is lonely. I haven't dared to call on her because he wouldn't like it, but I feel uneasy about it, after all she has a right to see Betty. Harry's uncle wasn't always like this, Ed – he was difficult and he expected a good day's work, but I liked him. I'm sorry he thinks so badly of me now – but what can I do? Even if I tried talking to him, he wouldn't listen…'

‘He'll listen to me all right,' Ed said and clenched his fists.

‘No, I don't want you to quarrel with him, Ed,' Lizzie touched his arm. ‘Let's just wait and see what happens. He's an old man and my husband was his only nephew, like his son really. He's hurting and he's angry…'

‘Yes, but he has no right to blame you, Lizzie.'

‘No, he doesn't,' she agreed. ‘But I don't want you to go round there, Ed. It would cause trouble for you – and if I have to, I'll sort him out myself. I can if I want…'

Ed looked at her for several minutes. ‘Yes, I know, Lizzie. It just makes me spitting mad that Bert wants to hurt you like this. It's vindictive, telling lies to ruin your reputation and your business. What would Harry think? He's harming Betty too, because if this destroys the business, what would happen to Harry's daughter then?'

‘He thinks he has reason,' Lizzie said sadly, ‘and there's no changing his mind. He's too stubborn for that.'

Ed listened to Lizzie and conceded it might be best to wait before charging off to confront Bert Oliver, but he insisted on walking to the tram stop with Lizzie that evening.

‘Thanks, Ed,' she said and squeezed his arm. ‘I'll be all right now – I just hope the news about Mary isn't too bad when I get home…'

Ed waited until she was on the tram and then walked away. Lizzie looked out of the window and then noticed the man walking away. The shock of recognition spiralled through her, because he'd been there watching her; the man who'd followed her before. He was dressed as before in an overcoat and trilby pulled low over his face, but for a moment she saw him in the light of a street lamp – thin-faced, pale skin and a scar on his cheek. Was it the same man? She couldn't be sure, but she was relieved that Ed had insisted on walking her to the tram.

Lizzie didn't feel like shopping and Beth would have taken the children home. They were already fed, washed and in bed when Lizzie walked in and Beth was preparing some chips to go with the thinly sliced corned beef they'd purchased the previous day for their meal.

‘That smells good,' Lizzie sniffed appreciatively. ‘How is Mary? Have you heard?'

‘Dad came round a few minutes ago to tell me the news,' Beth said. ‘He'd been to visit Mary at the hospital but she was still in labour so he didn't wait. He says Granny is cooking his tea and Mum is stopping at the hospital until Mary has had the child.'

‘Your granny has had a big day,' Lizzie said. ‘Won't she find it a bit much cooking tea for her son-in-law?'

‘She seems to be enjoying herself,' Beth laughed. ‘When she moved in with Mum she seemed poorly, but she hadn't been eating properly, now she's fine again and happy to do her bit.'

‘She's a marvellous lady,' Lizzie said as she washed her hands. ‘I'll just pop up to see Betty and then make a pot of tea…'

Lizzie left her to the cooking and went into the children's room, bending over Betty's cot to make sure she was all right. Her cheeks looked rosy and she was sleeping peacefully, so she went back down and filled the kettle.

Beth turned the chips in the frying pan. ‘I hope these will be all right. I've done them in olive oil I bought from that grocer's on the corner. It's supposed to be for putting on your salads, but it says you can cook in it…'

‘Yes, you can. I've used it a couple of times before,' Lizzie said. ‘I put it in sponges too – I think it comes from Italy or somewhere like that…'

‘We shouldn't be buying from the enemy…'

‘It doesn't say that's where it came from on the bottle, though the shop used to be Italian. The owner packed up and left when the war started, and I'll bet this is old stock – it's perfectly all right though.'

‘It smells all right. Besides, we've run out of lard.' Beth ladled out the chips and they sat down to their meal of corned beef, chips and some red beet out of a pickle jar.

‘I like red beet with corned beef,' Lizzie said. ‘I'd rather have ham of course…'

‘What's that?' Beth quipped and they smiled at each other, because it was almost impossible to buy ham these days. Rationing and shortages had made things they'd always taken for granted a rarity and both girls ate hungrily, knowing they were lucky to have a decent meal to come home to. A lot of families sent their kids to school with nothing but a bit of bread and dripping to tide them over until their tea, which was likely to be more of the same unless their mothers were lucky enough to get a bit of scrag end or offal from the butcher to make a filling pie. There were all kinds of recipes these days for making pies out of grated vegetables and they all tasted awful, at least in Lizzie's opinion. The days of tasty pork chops or sausages for tea were a distant memory.

‘Are you going up the hospital when we've eaten?' Lizzie asked.

‘Would you mind?'

‘No, of course not. I'll be here to look after the children tonight, and I can do a few sketches. You go and see how your sister is. Persuade your mother to go home and rest for a while, tell her you'll be there for Mary – and don't even think about coming to work tomorrow.'

‘Thanks,' Beth smiled at her. ‘I don't know what I should have done if we'd never met, Lizzie. You're the best friend I've ever had…'

They had finished their meal and were clearing the table when someone knocked at the door. It was Bernie; he'd heard about Beth's sister.

‘I'll take you to the hospital in the car,' he offered. ‘If you walk you might get caught in a raid.'

‘Yes, you get off now,' Lizzie urged, thinking they were fortunate that the siren hadn't yet sounded that evening. ‘Go on, Beth. You must be worried to death…'

Beth nodded gratefully and went with him. Lizzie washed the plates and frying pan and put them all away. She was also feeling a bit tired because it had been a long day, but at least she hadn't had time to fret about the man following her or the problems at the showroom.

When she allowed herself to remember that unpleasant interview with Mr Jenkins, she felt like weeping. It was so unfair after all her hard work setting up the business. She'd noticed that after a good start the profits hadn't been so positive recently, and now she understood why she hadn't seen one or two of her customers. They must have listened to the spiteful gossip. Why did Harry's uncle hate her so much? Because he'd seen her with Roger and then with Sebastian, he'd jumped to conclusions, and if he was telling her customers that she was a loose woman she knew they wouldn't trade with her. If he understood the real reason Harry hadn't come home for months, perhaps he'd change his mind – and yet Lizzie was reluctant to tell him. He would probably think she was lying anyway.

Was he also responsible for the smashed window? Lizzie couldn't bring herself to believe that he would do such a thing, or even pay someone to do it. He might be angry and he might think Lizzie had cheated on Harry – but surely he wouldn't go that far?

Worrying about it wasn't going to solve anything. Lizzie got out her sketchbook and began to design some new hats for her spring and summer range. In the distance she could hear the sound of muffled explosions and thought perhaps the Docks were catching it again. Nothing showed through the blackout curtains, but she knew the sky would be lit up over there. She just prayed that Beth wasn't caught up in it and that she wouldn't have to fetch the children down to the Morrison shelter on her own.

After a while, Lizzie went upstairs to look at the children. All three of them were sleeping peacefully and she bent to kiss their soft cheeks, feeling protective of their sweet innocence and whispering a prayer that they would all come through this terrible war safely.

By ten o'clock Beth hadn't come home, but the all-clear had sounded so she accepted that her friend had decided to stay at the hospital and she went up to bed; the door was locked but she hadn't put the chain on, because Beth would need to be able to use her key if she came back in the early hours. It felt odd knowing that she was alone with the three children, and she could only be grateful that Hitler's bombers hadn't visited her district of Spitalfields that night.

Beth's bed hadn't been slept in all night. Lizzie frowned when she looked in and saw it was untouched. Was Beth still at the hospital? She hoped everything was all right. The children were waking up; Beth's twins taking it in turns to scream for attention. Betty was grizzling when Lizzie went into their bedroom. All three children slept in the same room in their separate cots, which often meant that if one started crying they all set off. Matt was yelling the loudest, so Lizzie picked him up and rocked him for a moment, but he just yelled all the louder. He was obviously hungry. Lizzie put him back in his cot, bent over Jenny and stroked her forehead and then picked up her own little Betty and kissed her damp cheeks.

‘It's all right, Mummy is going to make the bottles and then you'll all be fine,' Lizzie said.

She took Betty down to the kitchen with her and started to make up three bottles with the special powdered milk they got from the chemist. Her daughter had settled down in the old armchair and was smiling, happy now that she wasn't disturbed by the twins' crying. Lizzie made Betty's bottle first and fed her; she changed her daughter's nappy and then left her on a blanket gurgling and smiling in the playpen, while she went up to feed and change Beth's twins.

Jenny was wet but her tears stopped as soon as Lizzie fed her and she was able to turn her attention to Matt. He was red in the face from screaming for attention, and, discovering his nappy was heavy, Lizzie changed him. She threw the spoiled napkin into a bucket and wiped his little bottom clean, noticing that he had quite a nasty rash. She found the cream and smoothed it over his now clean flesh, soothing him as she rocked him in her arms.

‘No wonder you were in such distress,' she said and then began to feed him. ‘I thought it was just temper… I'm sorry I left you to the last.'

Beth always said that Matt had a terrible temper and Lizzie had thought he had been screaming and crying so loudly just to grab the attention from his sister but now realized that he must have a tummy upset. A visit to the doctor or at least the nurse's clinic for babies might be in order, and she made up her mind to take him herself if Beth didn't get back. She would have to telephone Ed and ask him to look after the showroom. The orders would have to wait. However, just as she was getting ready to ask the next door neighbour if she would have Jenny and Betty, Beth turned up looking dreadful.