Bia's War (12 page)

“Why wasn’t the bread ready for
collection? Don’t they know that it’s Christmas Eve and the world
and his wife will be coming in for extra bread to get them through
the holiday? What am I supposed to tell the customers? Sorry,
you’ll have to wait till next week before you can have a loaf.”

Victoria couldn’t make out what
her father said in reply. His deeper tone and the fact that he was
keeping his temper remarkably well meant that she couldn’t make out
the words he was using, but she could tell that he was trying to be
reasonable and to make his wife see sense. Victoria couldn’t
understand why he never shouted back at her mother or why he always
kept his temper with her, but that was how it was. She opened the
door and slipped into the kitchen, wincing as the volume coming
from her mother rose even higher. She hoped that the tardiness of
the bakery would keep her mother occupied but it was a vain hope as
her mother turned on her the instant she got through the door.

“Don’t be thinking that you can
spend all day today sitting with her upstairs again, cos you can’t.
It’ll be all hands to the pumps today. It’s Christmas Eve, you
know.”

“Yes, I do know it’s Christmas
Eve and I also know that I’ll have to work in the shop today
because it will be busy.” Victoria hoped to head her mother off at
the pass, but she failed again.

“Too right you’ll have to work
in the shop. That’s what keeps you in fancy clothes, you know miss.
It’s only right that you take your turn working with the rest of
us. I can’t be expected to do everything on my own.”

Victoria’s dad had had
enough.

“You don’t do everything on your
own. I’m in there all day, every day, as well as you. I’m now going
back to the bakery because the bread should be ready by now and
I’ll be back and have it in the display case before we open. Can we
just get on with it, please?”

And he disappeared out of the
side door, making good his escape before his wife found something
else to complain about. He needn’t to have bothered because Bia had
found her next victim and wasn’t going to let go of this one quite
so easily.

“Right,” she began. “You can
take Nana Lymer her breakfast and then, when you’ve had yours, I
want you out there in the shop ready to fill up shelves and weigh
potatoes out ready for us opening. They’ll all want extra veg today
and we’re not losing any sales just because the shelves are half
empty.”

“Yes, Mam.” Victoria said, as
she hoisted the tray bearing Nana’s breakfast into her arms and set
off for the stairs.

“And don’t be spending too long
giving her that tray. You only need to put it in front of her and
she can do the rest herself.” Her mother couldn’t resist having the
last word, even when there hadn’t been any argument. Victoria
sighed as she mounted the stairs, wondering if her mother would
ever speak nicely to her or if that was a pipe dream never to be
realised.

Nana was sitting up in bed
waiting for her breakfast, the bed jacket wrapped tightly round her
little frame and a heart-warming smile on her lips.

“Good morning, pet,” she said,
as soon as Victoria opened the door. “We won’t be able to have our
little chat today, will we? Your mother’s on top form already and
it’s not eight o’clock yet. I could hear her from here.”

Victoria smiled a little
ruefully.

“We’ve no chance of getting even
five minutes today. She was on the warpath before I even got
downstairs. The bakery hadn’t got our order ready when Dad went for
it so she was declaring that we wouldn’t have any bread and the
customers will all go elsewhere. Dad’s gone to get it now, though,
cos they’d told him it would be ready before we opened.”

“That’s your mother, pet, always
makes a drama out of a crisis, I often wonder where she gets the
energy from to complain so much. Never mind, we should get some
time tomorrow afternoon, after Christmas dinner.”

“I certainly hope so, Nana,
because I won’t be able to stand being in the same room with her
all day, not when the shop’s closed and she can concentrate on
putting right all my faults.”

“I know, chick. I don’t
understand why she has such a down on you. It isn’t as though you
are a bad lass, trawling the streets and making a name for
yourself. You go to school and do your homework when you should;
you get good exam results and you work hours in the shop for very
little reward. If you ask me, your mother doesn’t know a good
daughter when she sees one, but if she keeps harping on at you
she’ll push you away completely. You get back downstairs before she
starts again and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ok Nana. You have a rest today
and get the next part of the story ready for me.”

It was very busy in the shop all
morning. Victoria didn’t have chance to think about anything other
than the customer she was serving. Every time one customer was
satisfied, another appeared in their place and it was well after
lunchtime before they even got chance to have a coffee break. They
took it in turns to snatch a sandwich each for lunch, then, as the
tide of customers seemed to be abating, Victoria filled every shelf
she could find with every tin, box and tube she could find, so that
the shop was still well-stocked. By four o’clock, the tide of
customers had turned into a trickle and she was amazed when her
mother stopped her from filling up the fridge with more cheese.

“That’ll do, Victoria. I reckon
that the rush is over now. Go and see if Nana is ok and you can
stay with her till I call you for your tea.”

Victoria was terrified that her
mother would change her mind before she got out of the shop, but
there was no screech following her as she climbed the stairs.

“It’s quietened down in the shop
so Mam said I could come and sit with you! Isn’t that great?”

“That’s wonderful, pet. Are you
too tired to make a drink, only I’m dying of thirst?”

“Of course I will, Nana.”
Victoria said. “Shall I bring some biscuits up? To keep us going
till tea-time?”

“You do that, pet. That sounds
lovely. I’ll get my thoughts in order because I wasn’t expecting
you today.”

Victoria rushed back down into
the kitchen, put the kettle on, got the cups and the biscuits and
then hopped from foot to foot, willing the kettle to boil quicker
so that she could escape before her mother came into the kitchen
and announced that she had changed her mind about Victoria sitting
upstairs. But the coast was still clear when the tea was ready and
Victoria carried it back up to Nana’s bedroom and then settled
herself down in her favourite chair for the next instalment.

“We didn’t hear any more from
the pig butcher after his bath and thoughts of him and what else he
might do were wiped from our minds when there was an accident in
the iron works.” Nana Lymer began the next part of her story. “The
first I knew about it was when one of the cooling towers exploded
and the noise was heard all over the town. People went out into the
streets to find out what had happened, but then a huge pall of
black smoke, pushed by the strong wind, came from the direction of
the ironworks and nobody could stay out in it for long. The smell
alone was horrendous, but the black smoke billowed down every
street in the town, whirling through every open door and window and
leaving a layer of black ash over everything it touched. People who
had run towards the works came back with their faces and clothes
covered in it, coughing and retching as though they were going to
bring up their insides.”

“Some of the houses which were
in the streets surrounding the works were damaged by the force of
the explosion and three women and a child were killed by falling
masonry. It was a terrible time for the town and even the War was
forgotten while rescuers dug survivors out of the rubble and
collected the dead from inside the works. Four workmen were killed
altogether; bringing the total of the dead to eight, but the number
of the wounded was a shock to us all. Over forty workmen were
injured, some badly, some not so badly and that led to a lot of
misery in the town. There was an investigation into what had
happened and the report later produced blamed some of it on working
practises. The war was using up iron and steel faster than the
works could produce them and there had been corners cut to increase
output, with the inevitable conclusion being the explosion.”

“After the dust had settled,
literally, there were families who had lost their breadwinner and
families who were temporarily without income and the town pulled
together to help them. There was a fund set up to help and all the
businesses in the town made a donation, my little shop included, so
that no-one would starve, but life was still very tough for a lot
of people, coming on top of the families who had lost their
breadwinners because of the war.”

“One such family was the I’Anson
family who lived at number 46 Queen Street. Mrs I’Anson had shopped
with me from the day I had opened my first shop, spending nearly
all her husband’s wages, apart from what was needed for the rent,
on food in my shop. Two weeks after the explosion in the works,
when the rescue money had been doled out to the needy families, I
was in the window of the shop, putting up a display of skirts which
I had made for those women who were now working and didn’t have the
time to make their own clothes anymore.”

“Mrs I’Anson, who was a tiny
little thing who looked as though a good puff of wind would knock
her over, passed the window about five times, but never came in. I
was puzzled by her behaviour, particularly because she didn’t have
any of her five children with her and I did wonder who was looking
after them for her. I had a lot of time for the I’Anson family,
because the husband was a hard worker who always worked whatever
overtime was going and didn’t waste any of his money on drink. Mrs
I’Anson looked after the children who were always spotlessly turned
out and who were very well behaved. I didn’t have to keep a close
eye on any of her children when they were in my shop, not like some
children who were trained in shop-lifting from an early age.”

“Mr I’Anson had been wounded
when the explosion occurred in the ironworks but, luckily, he had
been hauled out of the rubble with only cuts and abrasions and a
broken leg. The broken leg had been set, but would obviously take
time to mend and, although the works were soon up and running
again, it was going to be a while longer before he would be able to
work (and get paid) again.”

“All of this was running through
my head as I continued to arrange the skirts in what I hoped was an
attractive display in the window facing Queen Street. We were lucky
in that we had another window on the other side of the shop which
faced out over King Street, us being on the corner of the two
streets, making my displays visible to anyone who walked past.”

“The sixth time she walked past,
Mrs I’Anson stopped right at the corner of the two streets and
seemed to be making a decision. After a couple of minutes, and I
must admit I had stopped work and was watching her; she turned
about and finally entered the shop. She hesitated in the doorway
and then spied me where I was perched on the window ledge, giving
one of the skirts a good shake to make it look more
attractive.”

“Mrs I’Anson came towards me,
looking as though she was heading into battle and by-passing both
Hannah and Annie as she did so. When she reached me she stopped
and, in a very quiet voice, asked if she could have a word with me
in private. I could see that she had wound herself up for something
which she obviously considered to be very serious, so I invited her
through into the kitchen, so that we wouldn’t be overheard. I
closed the kitchen door behind us, which was something we rarely
did so Annie and Hannah would know not to disturb us, and invited
Mrs I’Anson to take a seat at the kitchen table. When we were both
seated comfortably, she stayed silent, wringing her hands together
and glaring at them as though they had a life of their own and she
couldn’t control them.”

“‘You wanted a word with me, Mrs
I’Anson,’ I prompted her, when the silence between us had stretched
to a couple of minutes. ‘Please, you can say what you want to me.
It will remain private between us; you have my word on that.’ I
could tell that she had no idea where to begin, but her hesitation
was making the whole situation worse for her and I was beginning to
feel very uncomfortable.”

“‘I, I er need to ask you a
favour, Mrs Drinkwater,’ she finally said, continuing the
hand-wringing and still not raising her face from them. ‘You’ll
have heard that my Bert was one of the workmen injured in the
explosion?’”

“I knew that she wasn’t
expecting me to answer that so I just nodded and she continued with
her tale.”

“‘We got some money from the
fund which was set up to help people like us, but it wasn’t a huge
amount and, not to put too fine a point on it, we’ve now spent it
all. I think I’ve spent it wisely but the fact remains that it’s
now all gone and I’ve got the children to feed.’”

“I noted that she only mentioned
feeding the children and she rose even more in my estimation,
because it was obvious that she put her and her husband’s welfare
right at the bottom of her list of concerns. I understood how she
felt because I had always felt like that about Simon, as long as he
was well-fed and happy, it didn’t matter about me.”

“‘I wondered if you would take
my wedding ring as payment for some food and hold it, so that I
could buy it back from you when Bert gets back to work.’ she
asked.”

“It had cost her a great deal to
beg like that and I knew that she had only done it for the sake of
the children. When she had finished speaking, her whole body
slumped down on the chair and she looked like a condemned man. She
was obviously expecting me to refuse to help her, but she wouldn’t
give up before she had tried everything she could think of to feed
her children.”