The Docklands Girls (13 page)

Belle took a bus to Shanklin just before noon and made her way to the estate agent’s office, hoping for news about the house she wanted. The estate agent was on the telephone as she entered and he motioned to her to take a seat.

‘I see,’ he said to his caller. ‘Well, if that’s what you want to do. Will you let me know your position as soon as possible?’ He listened for the reply and then said, ‘Thank you. I’ll wait to hear from you.’

He looked across his desk at Belle with pursed lips and a frown creasing his forehead.

‘That was the lady who owns the house.’

Belle saw his expression and feared the worst.

‘It seems now that she actually has an offer on the house she’s got cold feet.’

‘You mean she backed out?’

‘Not exactly,’ he paused. ‘She just wants to go back and look around it and make doubly sure she’s doing the right thing and she’ll get back to me.’

Belle was devastated. ‘Do you think she’ll change her mind?’

‘To be honest, I don’t know. But I suppose you can understand her quandary. After losing her husband, the house holds too many memories, but, of course, in those circumstances, memories are all you have to cling to.’

‘Yes,’ said Belle. ‘I can understand that, but nevertheless I need a house and that’s the only one on your books that I like. I’ll take myself off and see if I can find anything else just in case. I’ll come back here and see you before I go back to Cowes, but I’m leaving for Southampton tomorrow morning.’

He rose to his feet and opened the door for her. ‘I’ll see you later.’

Belle walked away, thoroughly depressed. She felt sorry for the young widow, but she had to plan her own future.

She visited two other estate agents, but didn’t like anything on their books. She went into a cafe for some lunch and eventually walked back to the original agent, keeping her fingers crossed that he would have some news for her.

He didn’t. ‘Sorry, Miss Newman, but I’ve not heard a word.’

Taking out a pen, Belle asked for a piece of paper and wrote down her address. ‘I’m not on the phone,’ she said, ‘so you’ll have to write to me and let me know the lady’s decision.’

He promised to do so and she caught a bus back to the B & B and packed ready to leave in the morning.

In London, Cora had spent her first day at her new job. The manageress had been thorough, if not abrupt in showing her how she liked to work, where the stock
was kept, and the way to approach the customers and how to help them in the fitting room, leaving the other assistant to attend to the shop, stepping in when she was required.

‘Are there any questions you’d like to ask me?’ she said at the tea break.

‘Just one really,’ said Cora. ‘With the need for clothing coupons, how do you keep so busy?’

‘I don’t consider that’s any of my business and certainly none of yours. We are here to give a service to the public and that’s all.’

Cora felt like a naughty schoolgirl who’d been reprimanded by the head teacher and her cheeks flushed. Remembering how she’d been given such coupons, Cora assumed that the customers were in a position to buy what they needed. There was a price for everything really, especially in wartime. She’d seen that for herself in her previous life and here in this shop, no questions were asked, even among the staff.

The rest of the day was spent going through the clothes on show, familiarising herself with what was where, so she would look professional when faced with a customer. Eventually she made her way home.

Opening the window, she made a cup of tea and climbed out onto the fire escape where she settled and watched what was happening below. She found it fascinating, if not a little noisy, but as she discovered later, when the shops had closed and people had gone home, it was a reasonably peaceful place.

After cooking a meal on her two burners, she sat and wrote to Belle, telling her about her day and hoping that
Belle was doing alright. She described the flat and her perch outside the window and what she’d observed sitting there.

She finished her letter, put it in an envelope and addressed it ready to post the following morning. Afterwards, she walked to the bathroom, washed, then climbed into bed. Tomorrow she was working on the shop floor and could hardly wait.

Hildy née Dickson, now Miller, had returned to work after her twenty-four hour honeymoon spent at the Polygon Hotel. Milt was ready to sail back to America and she was now listed as his wife and on the list of GI brides to be shipped across the Atlantic at a later date – as yet unknown. She kept fingering her wedding ring, still not used to the idea that she was now a married woman.

She’d arranged with the foreman to accept phone calls from Milt at certain times, so at least she could hear his voice, but today would be the last one, as the ship was due to sail for New York the next afternoon and the men would be boarding early in the morning.

Having been called to the office, she picked up the phone. ‘Hello, this is Mrs Miller speaking,’ she said laughing softly.

‘Hello darling. This is your husband here. How are you?’

‘Fine, wishing you weren’t leaving so soon. I won’t hear your voice again until I arrive in the States. Have you heard anything about that yet?’

‘No, honey. There’s a hell of a lot of troops to be returned first and then they can sort a passage for the wives, so it might be some time. We just have to be patient.’

‘I know, it’s just so hard.’

‘Think of it this way: it’ll give me time to get a place for us to live and get it all gussied up for when you come over.’

They talked for twenty minutes, then Milt had to go. ‘Look after yourself, Hildy, I’ll write often. I love you, darling.’

‘I love you too and I’ll write often.’ She put the phone down, tears in her eyes.

The foreman looked at her and said, ‘Take ten minutes and go and have a cigarette before you go back to your machine.’

Hildy just nodded, too full of emotion to speak.

The
Queen Mary
, still wearing her wartime grey paint – now nicknamed
The Grey Ghost
– pulled out of Southampton docks packed with troops. The public rooms had all been stripped of their finery and were now full of line after line of bunk beds.

Milt had told her there was no point in coming to the docks to see the ship sail as there were thousands of troops on board and little hope of him being on deck to wave goodbye to her. In one way she was relieved. It was bad enough to say goodbye over the phone, but to see the ship sail would have been even worse. Instead, she went to the pictures and lost herself in the story on the screen, blotting
out her sadness. Then, when she went home she soaked in a hot bath and went to bed.

Hildy’s mother was facing her own problems. Olive had no job, no lodger and no longer a daughter to bring in the money needed for rent and food. Olive had a little savings, but was having to use that to survive. She’d applied for several jobs unsuccessfully and eventually, out of necessity, had to take one as a cleaner in a local pub, which she thought was greatly beneath her. She’d placed another advertisement in the newsagent for another lodger but as yet no one had answered. This only made her more embittered as she knelt scrubbing floors, trying to clean the spilt sticky beer from the lino, washing the many glass cloths and polishing the long counter. She dare not complain because she needed the job too much.

Whilst Olive was hiding her discontent, Belle was trying to cope with her fear of losing the house in Shanklin she’d hoped to buy. It had been three days now and she’d not heard a word from the estate agent. She’d almost given up hope when at last she received a letter from him. She held her breath as she opened the envelope. Then she let out a cry of joy.

Interested? Of course she was still bloody interested! Belle rushed out of the house, down the road to the phone booth and dialled the number of his office.

‘Mr Pope, Belle Newman here. Please go ahead. Let me know when to come over with the money and I’d like to move as fast as possible.’

He replied that he would do so and he’d be in touch.

Belle was delighted. At last she could start her new life. Well, in a few weeks when everything was settled, but in her heart she knew that until she held the deeds in her hand and paid over the money, she wouldn’t feel safe. But tonight she was going to celebrate. Knowing that Hildy was feeling down, she invited her to join her that evening.

‘We’ll go and celebrate our new beginnings. What do you say?’

Hildy readily agreed.

It was quite a night. The two women went on a pub crawl. Halfway through the evening, Belle wisely decided they should eat, so they went into a cafe and then continued drinking until closing time, leaving the last pub, slightly unsteady on their feet.

Belle suggested they sleep at her place as it was nearer, though on arrival they almost fell through the door, so they had a cup of coffee and went to bed, waking in the morning with a fearful hangover.

‘Remind me never to go drinking with you again,’ moaned Hildy as she swallowed a couple of aspirins with a cup of tea. She nibbled on a piece of toast and held her head.

Belle was no better. It had been a long time since she’d
felt so bad, but she said, ‘Well, we had a lot to celebrate.’

‘If I survive, I’ll never drink again,’ murmured Hildy as she poured another cup of tea. ‘I don’t fancy the noise of the factory machines today,’ she added.

‘Take some cotton wool with you and use it in your ears,’ said Belle, handing some over.

When they walked into work, the foreman looked at them as they signed in.

‘Bloody hell! What happened to you two?’

Trying to look dignified, Belle said, ‘We went out to celebrate and had a few drinks.’

‘A few? Looks to me as if you drank the bar dry. Are you able to work your machines safely? Now I’m being serious, girls.’

They both declared that they were. But it was a long morning.

Cora had almost finished her first week in the dress shop and had enjoyed most of it. She loved looking after the ladies’ needs and had been brave enough to suggest one or two dresses to customers who were wavering in their choice and had been successful. This had not gone unnoticed by the manageress, who was watching her new employee as she worked. As the customer paid her bill and left the shop carrying her wares, Cora earned a compliment.

‘Well done, Cora. That lady went out of here a happy woman and the dress you chose suited her beautifully.’

This pleased Cora as she wasn’t quite sure how to feel about her boss. Ever since she walked into the shop to be interviewed, she felt that Linda Franklin resented her being there. Why she should feel that way, she couldn’t fathom, but at the end of the week just before the shop closed for business, the manageress was called to the phone. Cora overheard her conversation.

‘Yes, she’s doing well, thank goodness. I did have my reservations when you first spoke to me, we’ll wait and see how she does in the future.’ She then listened to whoever
was on the other end of the line. ‘No, that’s alright Mr Keating. Goodbye.’

Cora realised she had been the topic of this conversation. So that was it. Linda Franklin had taken her on against her will. No wonder she was abrupt and somewhat unfriendly. However, Cora thought, so far she’d seemed to please the woman, if that continued, her attitude towards her might change.

The following week, an elegant woman walked into the shop to collect a gown that had been ordered specially. Cora was sent into the changing room to assist her. The customer stared at her and Cora felt she was being unusually scrutinised, but ignored it, helping the woman into her gown, standing back, allowing her customer to inspect her image in the long mirror. She twisted and turned, until she was satisfied and Cora helped her out of her new purchase into her day clothes.

‘Thank you,’ the woman said, and stared at her once again, making Cora decidedly uncomfortable.

‘Is there something wrong, madam?’ she asked.

‘No,’ she answered. ‘I’m just interested to see my husband’s latest lost cause.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Joe Keating is my husband,’ she said. ‘He’s always taking someone under his wing.’

‘Your husband was kind enough to help me find a job, as you obviously know,’ said Cora softly. ‘I am grateful for his help.’

The woman held Cora’s gaze and said coldly, ‘Don’t be too grateful.’ She swished open the curtains and
walked up to the counter to pay her bill, then left.

Cora was shaken. First, it was the surprise of meeting Mrs Keating; second, being termed a lost cause, but finally the inference that … what? Cora was confused. Was the woman suggesting that there was something between Joe and her? That made her angry. Her cheeks flushed and she walked out of the changing cubicle into the shop.

Seeing the consternation in Cora’s expression, Linda asked, ‘What’s the matter?’

Standing in front of her employer, she was candid. ‘I overheard your conversation with Mr Keating the other day, so I know you gave me the job because of him, but Mrs Keating insinuated that there was something going on between her husband and me and I can assure you, that it is not true!’ Her indignation was very apparent.

Linda gestured for Cora to go with her into her office. Inside the room, she said, ‘You are not the first girl he’s asked me to take on, but they didn’t stay for very long.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Joe Keating moved them on to another job, after that I don’t know. I’ve only heard the rumours.’

‘What rumours?’ Cora was beginning to feel uneasy.

‘That he finds someone he can help and slowly he moves them to a better job and eventually they become his flavour of the month.’

‘Well, that’s not the case here!’ Cora exclaimed angrily. ‘I made sure of that before I accepted his offer. He thought my idea that he might have an agenda amusing and he assured me it wasn’t the case.’

‘Did he help you to find accommodation?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did he pay the first month’s rent as a gift to help you out?’

Cora felt her shoulders tense. ‘Yes he did, but I refused to accept it and sent a cheque to his office for the money.’

Linda looked surprised. ‘Well, that’s a first! Most girls were delighted.’

‘Most girls … how many have there been?’

‘Three or four that I know of.’ She studied Cora closely, watching her reaction. Then she smiled slowly. ‘This time I think he’s made a mistake.’

For the first time, Cora felt her boss’s attitude change. ‘No one buys me, Miss Franklin. I am my own woman.’ Then she suddenly realised what she’d said. Men had been buying her most of her adult life. She started to laugh at the irony of her remark.

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing really, only that Mr Keating is going to be disappointed, that’s all.’ Then she asked, ‘If I do disappoint my saviour, for want of a better word, does that mean I’ll lose my job here?’

This time it was Linda who laughed. ‘Not if I’m satisfied with your work. Like you, I’m not for sale.’ She walked to the doorway. ‘I was just repaying a favour to someone. I could have said no, but he said he thought you would make an excellent saleswoman and in this instance I think he was right.’

When eventually she was alone in her bedsit, Cora sat outside on her fire escape. She went over the day’s events in her mind. If Miss Franklin had taken on more of Joe’s girls, what sort of favours was she repaying? Then remembering
the clothing coupons Joe had given her, she wondered if that was how Linda managed to stay in business? Then she went over her time in the shop. She hadn’t seen any coupons change hands, but had once or twice heard the final amount told to the client at the till and had thought it was wrong. She’d been sure that the garment they bought hadn’t been that much, but being new didn’t dare query it. Now it made sense. The extra might well have been for black market coupons.

She was about to climb back inside her room, when a cab drew up in the street below and she saw Joe Keating step out. She flattened herself against the wall out of sight, then quietly climbed inside and shut the window.

At the front door, Joe pressed the bell to Cora’s room and waited. There was no answer. He walked away after glancing up at the closed window.

It was now late August and Belle had moved to the Isle of Wight into her new home. The fresh start made her feel years younger. It had been far too late in the season for her to consider starting her business and she wanted to get everything together and looking spruce before opening her doors to the public. With that in mind, she’d made a plan for each room and wearing old clothes and a headscarf, she began. Taking one room at a time, she started to paint the walls, which she thought easier than having to put up wallpaper.

At the end of the day, she’d get changed and walk along the seafront or on the beach, breathing in the smell of seaweed, sitting outside a pub with a glass of beer and a cigarette, chatting to the locals, getting to know her
neighbours and making friends. She didn’t know when she’d been happier.

Before she’d moved, she had spent a weekend in London with Cora, enjoying the sights and feeling like a tourist. She’d liked Cora’s bedsit, knowing that eventually her friend would move on to something bigger when she was ready. She’d been told about Joe Keating and was concerned, but Cora brushed her worries aside.

‘He’s got the message, Belle. I’ve never opened my door to him. He’s called a few times, but he’s not been to the shop, so you see, you’ve no need to worry about me. I’m doing well. I’m earning a living and I’m happy!’ Belle had returned home, knowing that when she had part of her new home, shipshape, Cora would come over for a holiday.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, Milt had been through the rigours of repatriation from his service overseas and being in the regular army, where others had handed in their uniforms and returned to civilian life, Milt had been given leave.

He’d returned to his parents’ home in New Jersey to relax and enjoy being surrounded by his kin. They knew that he’d become engaged, but didn’t know that he and Hildy had actually married. He showed his parents photos taken at the wedding and tried to describe their new daughter-in-law.

‘She’s a great girl! Bright, funny and I love her.’

His father, Gerry, a jovial man, placed an arm around his son’s shoulders and said, ‘That’s the most important thing, son, and I guess she feels the same about you.’

‘We’re longing to be together, Dad. She wrote to me
often when I was away. It helped a hell of a lot and in time, she’ll come over here to live, of course.’

His mother, Jean asked, ‘Does she have any family back in England?’

Milt hesitated. ‘Yes, her mother. The father left years ago.’

‘Oh, that’s sad,’ she said. ‘How does her mother feel about her settling so far away?’

‘They aren’t close,’ was all Milt said. Then he changed the subject.

As she watched her two men chatting, Jean wondered about the background story of Milt’s bride. It didn’t sound too promising and like any mother she was concerned. Was there something in the girl’s nature that could hurt her son?

That night Milt sat and wrote to Hildy, telling her of his return and his parents and how he couldn’t wait to see them all together. He didn’t tell her that he was trying to make up his mind about leaving the army and starting his own business.

The military had been his life and he’d been fulfilled, but having survived the war and now with a wife and eventually, he hoped, a family, he wanted a home, stability. In the army, you could be sent anywhere at any time. This was fine for a single man, but as a family man, he knew he wouldn’t be happy. But what kind of business was his dilemma. He knew about weaponry, but he wanted to leave all that behind. He was able to command men so could handle staff, but the actual business itself eluded him. He would spend his leave searching the business columns, looking for ideas. He wanted everything to be settled before
Hildy arrived in the States. But the army had been his life and he was finding it difficult to make a final decision.

Olive was far from settled. She was still scrubbing floors and cleaning at the pub, hating every moment, but she had to earn a living. She’d let her room to a young man who’d smoked heavily and drank to excess until she’d kicked him out after he came home legless and threw up his insides in her hallway. So now she was reluctant to try another lodger. She was having a tough time. She’d even contemplated visiting her daughter, trying to mend the rift between them, but she couldn’t find the words to do so. She hated the man who had taken Hildy away from her – as she saw it – and she knew in her heart, she wouldn’t be able to keep that resentment out of the conversation. It was too near the surface of her anger to stay hidden. Instead, she lived every day with a bitterness which fermented inside her until one day she was found on the floor of the pub, writhing in agony.

An ambulance was called and she was taken to hospital.