‘Of course it was, silly,’ she said, as she tried to tickle him out of his doleful mood. ‘Who else snores like that? Eh?’
He wriggled and giggled and it took some time to get him washed and into his clothes. Having taken him down for his lunch, she ran back up and prepared for the day, her thoughts on Florrie, and the thing that had been worrying at her since her arrival. She came to the conclusion that if she didn’t do something about it now, she might live to regret it.
She went to the dressing-table drawer and took out the jar of money. Peggy had already opened a bank account for her, and the passbook showed a healthy balance – but there was at least another five pounds still in the jar which she’d been saving to put towards her keep at Pearl’s. She wouldn’t have time today to go to the bank, but first thing tomorrow morning, she’d pay the money in.
But where could she hide the jar and the passbook until then? Everywhere seemed too obvious until she looked up. Dragging the chair over to the wardrobe, she put the passbook in the jar and pushed it as far back as she could, and checked to see if it was visible from anywhere in the room.
Sick at the thought that her mother might stoop so low, but suspecting she was quite capable of it, Sally put the chair back, checked the room was tidy and went to wake her.
She tapped nervously on the door and got no reply, so she opened it a fraction and wrinkled her nose as she peeked into the darkened room which stank of fags and cheap perfume.
‘Mum? Mum, you’ve got to wake up. You’re going to work this afternoon and lunch is on the table.’
The bedcovers moved and, with a groan, Florrie flung her arm over her face. ‘Tell Goldman I’ll come in later. I’ve got an ’eadache.’
‘Mr Goldman’s very particular about good timekeeping,’ she replied, switching on the light which made Florrie burrow beneath the covers. ‘It won’t look good if you’re late on your first day.’
‘Bugger off,’ growled Florrie, throwing a pillow at her. ‘Solly will smooth things over with Goldman.’
Sally realised she was wasting her time and shut the door and went downstairs. ‘She won’t be down for lunch,’ she said to Peggy.
‘Got a hangover, has she? I saw her coming in.’
Sally reddened with shame. ‘I’m sorry she’s upset everyone. I feel horribly responsible.’
‘Don’t be silly,’ replied Peggy. ‘You can’t help it if she’s your mother, and no-one is going to blame you for what she does.’
‘They might not,’ she replied with a watery smile, ‘but she’s only staying here because of me. Perhaps, once I’ve gone, she’ll go too.’
‘Perhaps,’ said Peggy. She poured tea and became businesslike. ‘It’s only dried eggs, but there’re tomatoes and a bit of fried potato to go with it, so eat up.’
Sally had little appetite, but she tucked in, knowing how wrong it would be to leave anything on the plate now the rationing was so restrictive.
Peggy eyed her thoughtfully. ‘Isn’t Florrie supposed to be working today?’
‘She’s going in later,’ mumbled Sally. ‘But she probably won’t get out of bed until tea time.’
‘What time are you finishing today, Sally? Only the Billeting Office shuts at five, and I’ll need to make an appointment.’
‘I’ll meet you there at four thirty,’ she replied, pouring a second cup of tea, and trying not to show the emotions that were welling inside her. ‘I’m sure Goldman won’t mind as it’s so important.’
‘Then I’ll make sure Jim gets there in time. He’s on the late showing tonight. But I can’t promise I can get an appointment; there’s bound to be the usual endless queue, and we’ll probably be stuck there for hours.’
Having kissed Ernie and quietly warned Peggy not to leave Florrie alone with him, Sally left for the factory.
It was a bright, breezy summer day, the sea and sky an innocent blue, with no hint of the horrors that had taken place during the night. But, as she walked the familiar route to the factory, she was made all too aware of how dramatically the landscape of Cliffehaven had been changed over the past week.
She carefully picked her way over and around the piles of rubble, dodging burst water pipes and hissing electricity wires that the teams of workmen were trying to repair. The graceful terraces of Victorian and Edwardian houses had been defaced by the rubble-filled gaps between them. Garden walls had disappeared, pavements had been torn up, and telegraph poles were felled like trees, their wires draped across shattered roofs and toppling chimneys. Shop windows were boarded, electricity cables and water pipes laid bare in the gaping holes where even more men worked to repair them. The end of one road had been shut off completely so the army could defuse an unexploded bomb, and in another, a huge bulldozer was slowly dismantling a house that was threatening to fall and demolish the two beside it.
She was almost at the factory when she saw Pearl coming the other way. With a wave, Sally hurried towards her and then came to a horrified standstill.
‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Pearl. ‘Will you look at that?’
Sally stared at the vast pile of rubble that had once been the two blocks of flats that overlooked the primary school. They had collapsed like a pack of cards right across the playground, and effectively sealed the entrance to the vast public shelter beneath it. If the attack had come during the day, the children playing there would have been killed, or buried alive in that shelter.
She shivered, and the terrible dread of what might have been grew stronger as she watched the men desperately digging at the still-smouldering mountain of rubble to clear the entrance. ‘It would be a miracle if anyone’s still alive,’ she breathed.
‘If the kiddies had been playing in that yard,’ murmured Pearl, ‘it don’t bear thinking about.’
‘That’s why I’m taking Ernie away,’ said Sally. She turned to her friend and took her hand. ‘I’m sorry Pearl, but I can’t move in with you – not yet. The boys have to leave Cliffehaven, and I’ve promised Peg and Jim I’d look after them.’
‘But all our plans …’
‘They can keep,’ she said softly. ‘But it’s too dangerous here for the boys now and, as Ernie can’t travel alone, I have to be with him.’
‘But you can’t,’ breathed Pearl. ‘What about your job, and your sewing? What about Peg and Jim and Ron? What about me?’
‘Don’t make this any harder than it already is,’ she pleaded. ‘I’ve already had me mum on me case, and she’s not helped a bit.’
Pearl crossed her arms, her eyes stormy, her tone acidic. ‘If your mum’s turned up, then why can’t she take Ernie?’
‘I wouldn’t trust her to look after him properly,’ said Sally with some asperity. ‘At the first whiff of a bloke with a stuffed wallet, she’d be off.’ She forced a smile and hugged her friend. ‘I’ll keep in touch, I promise,’ she breathed. ‘And, who knows? This war could be over in a few months and I’ll be back and moving in with you before you can blink.’
‘But, Sally, I don’t want you to go.’
‘Look at that, Pearl.’ She pointed to the devastation in the playground. ‘I have to go. Please try and understand. He’s all I got, and I have to keep him safe.’
Pearl gave a deep sigh. ‘I know. But I’m going to miss you, Sal. And that’s a fact.’
Sally took her arm. ‘Come on, we’re not doing no good standing here gawping. We’re going to be late for work.’
‘That’s if the factory’s still standing,’ muttered Pearl. ‘You never know, Hitler might have done us a favour by blowing it up – Simmons along with it.’
‘Nah, no such luck,’ said Sally, as they reached the gates and found the building hadn’t been touched. ‘The new one’s all right as well.’ She pointed to the enormous red-brick building that stood on the next corner. There were men putting up the ‘Goldman and Solomon Clothing Factory’ sign above the gates.
‘I didn’t realise they’d expanded,’ said Pearl. ‘Someone’s obviously making a packet out of this war. Shame it ain’t us.’
They went inside, clocked in and headed for their machines.
‘Miss Turner,’ shouted Simmons from the far end of the factory.
Sally wasn’t prepared to conduct a conversation from one end of the factory to the other, neither was she going to scurry back to see what he wanted. She waited until he came stomping to her work-station.
‘Where’s Mrs Turner?’ He was breathing heavily, and his face was red.
‘She’s not well. She’ll come in later and do a different shift. I can only stay for three hours, and all. I have to go to the Billeting Office.’
‘That’s not good enough,’ he snapped. ‘You women can’t just pick and choose what shift you’re going to do. It messes up my schedules.’ He took a deep breath and hugged his clipboard, his cold eyes magnified by the thick lenses in his glasses. ‘What’s the matter with her?’
‘Women’s trouble,’ she said shortly, knowing it would shut him up.
He went puce and couldn’t look at her. ‘I’ll have to inform Mr Goldman of her absence. This is most irregular – especially as this is her first day.’
‘You do that.’ Sally took off her lightweight jacket and sat down. Simmons was still hovering. ‘Is there something else, Mr Simmons, only I need to get on?’
‘Is it true that Mrs Turner is your mother?’
There was a glint of something in his eyes which Sally didn’t like, and she coolly returned his stare. ‘It is. Why? Is it important?’
‘Mr Goldman and Mr Solomon seem to think so. What’s so special about your family, Miss Turner? First you get a letter of recommendation from Solomon which gives you a raise in salary and a management position, and then your mother is assigned straight to the cutting tables. She has no proper experience, and I’ve been told by Mr Solomon that she will have to be supervised, which means taking someone off a more important job to make sure she doesn’t make costly errors. What’s going on, Miss Turner?’
‘I have no idea,’ she said on a sigh. ‘Why don’t you ask my mother when she comes in? I’m sure she’ll be delighted to put you in the picture.’
He eyed her belligerently then turned away and started harrying two latecomers.
Sally pushed her chair into the table and grimly checked her machine. Florrie hadn’t even bothered to show her face yet, but already she was causing trouble – and Sally wished with all her might that she’d stayed in London.
It was two o’clock and Peggy had finally finished cleaning the downstairs. She was about to begin on the bedrooms when Florrie appeared on the landing dressed in a tight skirt, high-heeled shoes and an almost diaphanous blouse. To Peggy’s mind she didn’t look at all as if she was on her way to work – unless it was on a street corner. ‘Lunch is over,’ she said curtly. ‘I’ve put some bread and marg under a plate for you in the kitchen. The tea’s stewed and rather weak, but you can warm up the pot on the range.’
‘I’ll eat in the factory canteen,’ said Florrie through a vast yawn. ‘Where is this flamin’ factory, anyway? Sally ain’t left no note or nothing.’
Peggy told her. ‘Ernie’s playing out in the back garden if you want to see him before you go to work,’ she added.
‘Nah. I’m running late as it is. I’ll see ’im tonight.’
Peggy watched her run down the stairs to the hall, and winced as the front door slammed behind her. ‘I wish to God I could get rid of her,’ she muttered crossly, ‘but as she’s Sally’s mother, I suppose I’ll just have to put up with her. But the minute Sally leaves, that woman’s out of here.’
‘Talking to yourself, me darling? First sign of madness, you know.’ Jim wandered out of the bathroom freshly shaved and looking very handsome.
‘Is that right?’ she retorted. ‘I’ll tell you what, Jim Reilly, it’s not my sanity you should be worrying about – it’s my rapidly decreasing patience. If you flirt with that woman again, she won’t be the only one on her backside in the street.’
He grabbed hold of her and gave her a resounding kiss. ‘I love it when you get all jealous and fiery,’ he said with a grin. ‘How about a bit of a cuddle while the house is quiet?’
‘Get away with you,’ she said, pushing against him. ‘You can’t get round me like that. I know you too well.’
‘But Peg, you know you’re the only woman for me.’
‘I’m the only one who’s had to put up with you for over twenty years,’ she replied, trying hard to maintain her tetchiness and not giggle.
‘And to be sure, my love, we’ll still be together another twenty.’ He kissed her again. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a cuddle?’
‘Quite sure. I’ve got work to do.’
‘Oh, well, I suppose I can’t win ’em all,’ he said without rancour, as he headed for the stairs.
‘I’ve made an appointment at the Billeting Office for four thirty,’ she called after him. ‘We’re meeting Sally there, so don’t be late.’
‘I’ll do me best,’ he said, his voice fading as he headed into the kitchen.
The telephone rang in the hall. ‘Will someone answer that?’ shouted Peggy.
‘I’ve got it,’ called Anne. ‘Hello?’ Her eagerness dwindled. ‘Oh, hello, what can I help you with?’
Like Anne, Peggy had hoped it was Martin. They hadn’t heard from him for over a week now, and she knew how much Anne was fretting. His blasted family didn’t help either – they hadn’t seen or heard from them since the wedding. Not that she minded much – they were unpleasant people – but it would have been nice if they could have shown Anne some support during these difficult days.