Rainy Days for the Harpers Girls Read online

  Walking into the hat department that morning, she saw that someone had done a beautiful display of the new styles she’d bought for the spring and summer: pinks and blues and a deep maroon looked wonderful together.

  ‘That looks lovely,’ she said to the young woman who was just adjusting a stand. ‘I think that maroon straw is priced at thirty-five shillings – quite a lot, I know, but it is rather special… so it’s good you’ve made a feature of it.’

  ‘Yes, it is, Mrs Harper,’ Janice Browning agreed, an odd expression in her eyes. ‘Just right if you can afford it and you’re going to a garden party or a wedding…’

  ‘Mrs Harper…’ Beth Burrows said, coming up to her. ‘Lovely to see you – you look very well…’

  ‘I feel it,’ Sally said. ‘I think the yoga exercises are making all the difference…’ Her gaze moved over her friend anxiously. Beth had lost her first baby the previous year, just before Christmas, and it had upset her terribly. Sally herself was feeling so lucky. She had to pinch herself sometimes to make sure it wasn’t all a dream – a girl from a convent school, abandoned by her mother as a baby and forced to find her own living from the age of sixteen and now happily married to the man she loved and carrying their first baby. Was it possible she could really be this happy? ‘How are you, love?’

  ‘Oh, much better,’ Beth replied and smiled. ‘No, really, I’m over my disappointment now.’

  Beth was making light of what had happened, Sally felt. She’d been attacked by the man who had first married and then caused her aunt’s death and consequently lost her own baby. Sally had read in the paper a report that said Gerald Makepeace’s trial was coming up soon. He was being charged with one count of murder, three of embezzlement and one of grievous bodily harm. It was likely the man would hang, and if ever a rogue deserved it, it was surely the man who had deceived and then beaten and killed Beth’s aunt for the insurance money and the shares she’d secretly left to her niece, which had become so valuable now and enabled Beth to set aside money for her and her husband’s future. Beth hadn’t expected anything and she’d been stunned by the value of the shares, doubled because her mother had also owned shares they’d all believed worthless. Because of the bequest, Beth’s husband, Jack, had been able to buy a controlling interest in the hotel he’d always wanted and was doing well, making it into a profitable business.

  Sally wondered how the news of Gerald’s trial was affecting Beth. Did she feel satisfaction that Gerald was going to pay for his crimes or was she still too upset over it to even read the reports in the newspapers?

  Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about it, so Sally smiled and said, ‘Is Jack pleased with the way the hotel is going?’

  ‘Yes, I think so,’ Beth said and then saw a customer making her way towards her counter. ‘Excuse me, Mrs Harper, I should serve that lady. I know just what she’s come for…’

  Sally nodded and moved away, watching as Beth smoothly served the woman with a beautiful silver locket and chain and a leather bag. They were good friends but at work called each other by their surnames, as was the practice at Harpers.

  Sally had been buying in extra stock since Christmas where she could. Some things were seasonal and she couldn’t lay in extra because fashions change, but wherever she could, she’d bought more than they would normally need so that while she was confined with the birth, the various departments she was in charge of buying for would survive her absence without suffering.

  Wandering over to the counter selling scarves, Sally spoke to the junior who was wrapping one gentleman’s purchase of a pair of ladies red leather gloves, while Maggie Gibbs served a young woman with a pretty pink and blue silk scarf. Marion Kaye, the junior salesgirl, blushed, clearly overwhelmed to be noticed by the boss’s wife, but went on with her task without faltering.

  Sally spoke with all of the staff before moving on and taking the lift to the ground floor. There were sufficient customers for her to feel that all was well as she moved from counter to counter, noting stock levels. The exquisite French overlaid glass vases that Jenni Harper had ordered and sent over were sticking a little; Sally had thought them expensive at the start and an idea came to her as she took the lift back to the top floor. She would suggest it to Ben over lunch…

  For a moment as she stepped out of the lift her head seemed to spin and she clutched at the wall. She felt slightly nauseous and stood for a moment to steady herself.

  ‘Are you unwell, Mrs Harper?’ Ruth Canning, the girl she’d employed as her personal secretary looked at her anxiously as she entered her office. ‘May I get you a drink of water – or a cup of tea?’

  Sally drew herself upright. She wasn’t going to give into a silly little dizzy spell. ‘I should like a cup of tea when you’re ready,’ she said, glancing at a sheaf of papers in Ruth’s hand. ‘Is that the stock list I requested from the men’s department?’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Harper,’ Ruth said. ‘I was just going to check one of the figures with Mr Simpson. It didn’t look right to me…’

  ‘I’ll deal with it,’ Sally said and took the sheaf of papers. Ruth was an excellent helper and if she said there was a mistake there would be one, but any challenge must come from her, Ben or Mr Stockbridge. She could just imagine the reaction of the head of the men’s department if her secretary challenged him. Ruth was eager and bright but apt to charge in too quickly.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Harper. I just thought he might like to correct it himself before it came to your attention…’

  ‘He probably would,’ Sally said, ‘but that won’t do, Miss Canning. You must leave these things to my discretion…’ the reprimand was mild, hidden by a smile, but it was there. The staff had a hierarchy all its own and any breach of etiquette was frowned on by the supervisors. However, Sally knew that she’d done much the same when she was just a new buyer and not the wife of the Store’s owner. So, she didn’t want to scold Ruth for what she knew was a good intention. ‘Thank you for pointing it out to me… your sharp eyes are such a help…’

  Ruth beamed with pleasure and Sally reflected that it did far more good to praise than to scold. ‘Now, I could just murder that pot of tea…’

  Sitting in her comfortable office chair, Sally realised that the brief moment of dizziness had passed, just as it had twice before. There was nothing wrong. It was all part of carrying a baby, but if she told Ben, he would wrap her in cotton wool for the last months of her pregnancy and that was the last thing she wanted…

  2

  Marion Kaye left work at the same time as Miss Gibbs. Miss Gibbs had told her she could call her Maggie outside working hours, but as her junior, she didn’t feel that she ought, even though Miss Gibbs was very friendly towards her.

  ‘What are you doing this evening?’ Miss Gibbs said, smiling at her. ‘I’m going to my first-aid classes and I wondered if you would like to join? It’s for a good cause…’

  Marion looked at her uncertainly. ‘I’m not sure… how much does it cost? Only, I give Ma all but a shilling of my wage and I couldn’t afford to pay more than tuppence…’

  ‘It is absolutely free,’ Maggie told her, her eyes bright with warmth. ‘If you want something to eat, you have to pay, but the classes are given free – it’s because the organisers think if ever there is a war, we ladies ought to know how to bandage someone properly and lots of other useful things…’

  ‘It sounds really interesting and I’d love to come…’ Marion said, a note of longing in her voice. She loved working at Harpers and being one of the girls and would like to go out with friends in the evening, but her mother needed her help at home. ‘I can’t manage it this week – but I’ll ask Ma. She might let me come next time…’

  ‘You tell her it is all very proper and safe,’ Maggie said. ‘We’re taught by trained nurses and a respectable doctor lectures us once a month. I would see you got on the right bus home…’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Gibbs…’ Marion said with a little blush. ‘You’re so kind to me…’
/>   ‘I told you, call me Maggie outside working hours,’ Maggie said and impulsively squeezed her arm. ‘I know what it feels like when you have to get home, because you’re needed. My father was ill for months before he died and I needed to help look after him…’ She sighed. ‘I still miss him…’

  ‘Do you miss your mother?’ Marion dared to ask.

  ‘Sometimes, but not the way I miss Poppa.’ Maggie’s smiled wobbled. ‘He loved me so much and he was so disappointed when his accident prevented me from training to be a teacher – but I’m happy at work…’

  ‘You live with Mrs Craven and Miss Minnie from the dress alterations…’ Marion blushed. ‘I’m sorry. She told me to call her that…’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Maggie said reassuringly. ‘Miss Lumley hates her surname and asked to be known as Miss Minnie instead, which is what everyone has called her for years. Her sister Mildred was Miss Lumley and I think she’s still grieving for her, so we always call her Miss Minnie.’ Maggie smiled. ‘She didn’t really have a proper interview. Rachel spoke to Mrs Harper and she invited her for coffee, took one look at her work and gave her the job. She is a wonderful seamstress…’

  ‘Yes, I know. I’d love to have something made by her, but it’s so expensive…’

  ‘Oh, very,’ Maggie agreed and sighed. ‘Beautiful to see though…’

  ‘I’d better go,’ Marion said regretfully, ‘or I shall miss the bus and Ma will worry if I’m late…’ She would have loved to stop and talk to Maggie, but if she did, she would be late home and everyone would be waiting for their tea.

  Marion ran to her stop and clambered on the bus as it pulled to a halt. She climbed the winding stairs to the top level and found a seat. Several passengers were sitting there, but it wasn’t as crowded as downstairs, because some people didn’t like riding in the open air, especially if it was wet or cold. That evening it was chilly but dry and Marion rather liked the feel of the wind in her face. She’d got her plain grey felt hat well pinned down on her short dark hair. Her sister Kathy had cut it for her at Marion’s request, because it had just been too much trouble when left long. Short, it curled into the nape of her neck and about her face; long it frizzed everywhere and she had to drag it back and secure it with hairpins, which never stayed put, so because she had no time to spend putting it up, she’d let Kathy chop it off. The result had brought a few tears, but at work the girls had liked it and Mrs Burrows had told her it suited her – it saved twenty minutes or more in the mornings, making it possible for her to do all she needed to and still get to work on time.

  Rush Terrace, in which Marion lived with her mother, sisters and younger brothers, was a row of tall, narrow houses, all of which had long back gardens, which made them lucky, because everyone grew vegetables and some kept a few chickens. Marion knew that in other similar streets some of the back-to-back houses only had a tiny back yard, but her home had a good garden that her brothers dug and tended so they always had plenty of vegetables in season. She had two brothers at home still, her elder brother Dan having gone off more than three years previously after a violent row with his father over his treatment of their mother, and two sisters younger than herself. Their father worked on the ships and was seldom home, something they all felt relieved about, despite the shortage of money his absence caused. Dan had fought him and suffered a painful injury, but he’d gone because if he’d stayed, he might have done something he would regret. Sometimes in the past year, Maggie’s leek and potato soup had been all they had for supper, but now that she was earning, things were a little better.

  Opening the back door and walking into the kitchen of her home, Marion’s heart sank. It had been one of Ma’s bad days. On her better days, she made a little effort to tidy up, do washing or ironing or make their tea, but from the look of things, she’d done nothing.

  ‘Where is Ma?’ Marion asked of her sister. Kathy was still at school but helped as much as she could before and after school hours. Marion could see that she’d given the younger ones a bit of bread and dripping for their tea. ‘I thought we had some sausages?’

  ‘Ma left them on the table while she went out to hang a towel on the line,’ Kathy said. ‘She only left the door open a moment and next door’s dog swiped the lot…’

  ‘That damned dog,’ her younger brother said and wiped his snotty nose on the back of his sleeve. ‘I’m hungry, our Marion, and I don’t like dripping…’

  ‘Nor don’t I…’ chimed in five-year-old Milly.

  ‘Well, you will bloody well have to put up with it,’ Robbie said and glared at no one in particular. ‘I bought them sausages wiv me last shillin’ and I was lookin’ forward to havin’ one fer me tea wiv a bit of mash…’

  ‘I bought a tin of corned beef in my lunch break,’ Marion said, sensing a row brewing. It had been meant for the following day, but she would have to find something else for that if she could scrape up enough from Ma’s change pot. ‘Kathy, help me do the spuds and, Robbie, you and Dickon can cut the corned beef – thin slices and no pinching a bit or there won’t be enough to go round…’

  ‘Cor, I love corned beef,’ her elder brother grinned at her. Robbie was a good lad. His work down the wood yard on the docks brought in nine and sixpence a week, which was an excellent wage for a lad not quite sixteen years old. He spent every penny of it on food for the family, leaving Marion to cover everything else their father’s meagre wage did not supply. Mr Kaye worked away on the ships and came home for a couple of nights every few weeks. He gave his wife a third of whatever he’d earned to keep his family while he was gone and spent the rest on drink and fancy women. At least that was what Ma had told her eldest daughter.

  ‘That devil ruined me health and me life,’ she’d once told the then fifteen-year-old Marion when feeling so ill she thought herself about to die some two years previously. ‘I’m no use to you kids, so you’ll have to be mother, lass – but don’t let that devil near yer or you will end up like me…’

  Even at that tender age, Marion hadn’t needed to be told what her mother meant. In a house with walls so thin that every sound could be heard, she’d listened to her mother’s cries for some peace when her father was at home.

  ‘Sure, you’re an unfeelin’ woman, Kathleen,’ Bill Kaye had accused his wife. ‘I wonder why I married yer – but the red hair had me fooled. I thought there was some fire in yer, but yer a milksop. If yer won’t do yer duty, yer can’t blame me if I go astray…’

  Bill Kaye had at that time worked on the docks as a ship’s carpenter, but he’d signed on to sail with a merchant ship that traded at various ports in Europe and in Britain and his work now kept him away from his home and his wife’s bed. He took out his anger on all of them by giving his wife a clout whenever he felt like it, and his children stayed clear or caught his fist on the side of the ear if they got in his way.

  Marion’s eldest brother Dan had joined the merchant navy as soon as he was sixteen, lying about his age because he looked older. He’d been home only twice since and both times given his family presents and ten pounds, which he’d pushed into Marion’s hand.

  ‘You’re the only one in this family with any sense,’ Dan had told her. ‘Take care of them, Marion, and I’ll help yer as much as I can…’

  ‘You’re a good brother, Dan,’ Marion had replied. She would have hugged him but knew Dan couldn’t stand to be touched. She wasn’t sure why then, except that her father had gone after one of the other dockers once and hammered him with his fists until the man couldn’t stand. After Dan left home, Marion’s mother had hinted that one of the dockers had physically abused him in a way that was shameful. He’d come home crying as a lad of ten years and his father had stormed off in a rage to deliver punishment to the man that had abused him. Bill Kaye had been arrested by the police but let off with a warning after they discovered what his victim had done to the young boy. One of the police officers said he didn’t blame him and he’d have done the same in his shoes. Dan had said it was the only
time his father had ever done anything for him, adding that it still didn’t make him a decent father. Marion hadn’t understood as a child, but she did now and she felt sympathy for her brother’s hurt and humiliation.

  ‘I wish you’d come home, Dan,’ Marion had told him when he’d given her money from his wages. ‘It would be easier if you were here with us…’

  ‘Nah, I’d knock Pa’s ’ead orf or bleedin’ try,’ Dan said angrily. ‘I can’t stand the way he treats our ma, Marion. It makes me savage because she just lets him walk all over her as if she’s a doormat…’

  ‘If she stands up to him, he hits her,’ Marion said and saw the nerve flick at Dan’s temple. ‘She doesn’t have a choice, because if he left her, she couldn’t feed us or keep a roof over our heads. We’d have to go in the old poor house what the Sally Army run nowadays – or live on the streets…’ Bill Kaye was the head of his family and his wife had few rights. If she’d left him, he wouldn’t have paid her a penny, even for the children, so she had no choice but to stay and take whatever punishment he handed out. None of the other children were strong enough to stand up to him, even though Marion had tried to reason with him when he was sober. They all knew that they had to stay clear when he’d been drinking because he didn’t care who he clouted then. Marion sometimes wished he’d stay away and never return, because the few pounds he brought home were not worth the pain he inflicted on his family.

  ‘I’ll never marry unless I can give a woman a decent home and enough money to feed and clothe her and the kids properly…’ Dan had vowed furiously, his eyes sweeping round the damp walls that crumbled if you hit them too hard and the dirty cobbled floor that was never clean even after Marion scrubbed it until her hands were raw. The one tap over a shallow sink only had cold water; water for washing and cleaning had to be heated in the copper in the scullery. It made the work twice as hard for their mother, whose health had steadily been deteriorating since the birth of her last child, who, poor mite, had not even drawn breath.