The Woolworths Girls (12 page)

Alan set the bike up against the metal side of the hangar and beckoned Sarah to follow him. He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘My dad was a flyer in the war, and his mate Syd, who you are about to meet, is my godfather. He’s worked here on and off for years and is now a flying instructor. He tinkers with the planes as well. Even though the RAF have taken over the airfield, Syd was kept on. I come here when I can and help him. He taught me to fly.’

Sarah gasped. ‘You can fly those things?’ She pointed to where a plane was making a bumpy landing on the grass. She could imagine the fragile plane breaking easily into small pieces and those aboard perishing. Sarah held her breath as a wave of sickness washed over her. Why ever would Alan wish to risk his life in such a contraption?

‘And I can pull one apart and put it back together again,’ Alan said proudly, not aware that Sarah was unimpressed. ‘In fact, that’s why we’re here. I wanted to show you more of my world and how it affects my future.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I hope it will be our future.’

Sarah’s breath was taken away by Alan’s words about their future together. She hoped that meant marriage, but at the same time she couldn’t help but worry as to how he could fit a good job working at Woolworths alongside flying aeroplanes and also have a family to care for. It didn’t make sense. ‘It’s all such a shock. I had no idea . . .’ was all she could think to say. She was saved from further comment by shouts from inside the hangar.

‘Alan, over here, mate.’

Sarah looked around to see where the voice came from. Alan pointed to a small aircraft. ‘It’s Syd, over by the Tiger Moth. Come on, let’s go see him. I really want you to meet him.’

Sarah had no idea what a Tiger Moth was, but followed Alan as he ran over to a small aircraft and shook an elderly man warmly by the hand. She held back as the man clamped Alan in his arms and then held him at arm’s length, laughing. ‘You’re looking more like that father of yours every day. How’s your mother doing? I’ve not seen her for a while.’

‘She’s fine, Syd, she’s fine. Mum sends her best wishes and said you should go over for dinner sometime.’ He turned to where Sarah was standing nervously watching the older man beam at Alan as if he hadn’t seen him in years. ‘Syd, this is Sarah. I want the two of you to meet, as you both mean so much to me.’

Syd wiped his greasy hands down his overalls before grasping Sarah’s small hand and pumping it up and down enthusiastically. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re prettier than this lad lets on.’

Sarah smiled back at the man. His enthusiasm was contagious. ‘I had no idea I was being talked about,’ she laughed. ‘In fact, I had no idea you or the airfield existed.’

It was Syd’s turn to laugh. ‘I’ve seen many a young woman flee from her beau when she realized she had to take second place to one of these beauties.’ He slapped his hand on the side of the aircraft.

Sarah frowned. ‘Second place? I don’t understand.’

‘When a lad gets to grips with a Tiger Moth, he’d rather be in the air than have his feet on the ground, even with the most beautiful girl. Alan’s one of our best flyers. Comes from hanging around here since he was a child. He grew up around the planes. He’s a natural. In fact, Alan, you can take this one up for a test run. She should fly as sweet as a bird.’

Alan laughed. ‘Do you want to come up with me, Sarah?’

Sarah felt her head spin at his words. ‘Do I what?’

‘Fly with me. There are two seats,’ he added quickly. ‘You won’t have to sit on the wing.’

Both men laughed at his joke.

Sarah’s head spun again. This time she really did feel sick and dashed from the hangar as her stomach and its contents parted company. She was just wiping her face with her handkerchief when Alan and Syd caught up with her. Alan looked concerned. Syd stood back a little, expecting there to be words between the couple.

‘Are you all right, Sarah? You look awfully pale.’ Alan put an arm around her waist to support her.

‘Sorry, Alan,’ she whispered. ‘It was all a bit much, and when you ask me to go up . . . up there . . .’ Feelings of dizziness overcame her once more. She was grateful for his arm around her.

‘You don’t have to, Sarah. I got caught up in the excitement. I forget that some people have no interest in aeroplanes.’ He looked crestfallen.

Sarah took a gulp of air. She didn’t wish to disappoint Alan. She wanted to be interested in his hobbies. After all, if they married, she would have to put up with him disappearing for the day to visit the airfield. A man needed a hobby. Wasn’t that why her mum tried to encourage her dad to take up golf?

‘I’ll be fine, Alan. I’m feeling better already. Look, why don’t you go and fly the aeroplane? I’ll wait until you return.’ She looked around for somewhere she could sit and wait.

Syd stepped forward. ‘I’ll take good care of her, Alan. Go find yourself some overalls and get this baby up in the air. Why don’t I take you to the mess and find you a cup of tea?’ he said, turning to Sarah.

‘That would be nice, thank you.’

Alan kissed her cheek. ‘Are you sure?’

She pushed him away playfully. ‘Go play with your aeroplane. I’ll be fine.’

Alan didn’t need a second bidding as he ran towards a row of lockers and began to pull out overalls and a flying helmet.

‘Come on, love – I think we’ve lost him for now.’ Syd led Sarah towards a single-storey building on the corner of the airfield, where she could hear loud voices behind the steamed-up windows. ‘It can be a bit rowdy in here at times, but the lads have good hearts, and you’ll get a decent cuppa and perhaps a bite to eat.’

Sarah looked forward to the warm drink but thought it better to avoid food for now.

Freda gazed up at the house in front of her as she stopped at the gate. ‘It’s certainly different to the last place I rented in this road.’

‘It couldn’t be much worse, from what Sarah told me,’ Maisie said as she peered down to the single cellar window. ‘You could eat yer dinner off that doorstep.’

‘The windows are sparkling clean, and look at the shiny brass door knocker. Whoever owns this place keeps it spick and span.’

Maisie frowned. ‘Mind you, the woman could be a tyrant. Probably makes you take yer shoes off at the front door and say prayers before you can eat yer grub. Do yer want to leg it now?’

Freda liked the outside of the house. It looked clean and respectable. She felt bad at leaving Ruby’s home after the Caseltons had taken her in, but she knew they needed the room for when George came to stay. It wasn’t fair that George slept on the put-you-up in the front room. ‘No, I like this house, and whatever the landlady is like, I’ll handle it. After all, I’m at work most of the time or out with you and Sarah, so it’s not as if I’m going to be stuck here all day, is it?’

Maisie shrugged and knocked on the door. ‘Well, it’s your funeral. Me and Sarah can always come and rescue you if she has you knitting doilies or blacking the hearth and such like.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Freda giggled as they heard footsteps approaching the door.

The door was opened by a rosy-cheeked woman who was drying her hands on a tea towel. She beamed at both of the girls. ‘Hello, my loves. What can I do for you? Collecting for the church jumble, are you? I’ve got a bag of bits put by.’

The woman turned to pick up a string bag stuffed to bursting with clothes as Maisie tried not to laugh out loud.

‘No,’ Freda blurted out. ‘I’m here about the room. That’s if it’s not already gone? I spotted your advert in the newsagent’s window. You are Mrs White, aren’t you?’

‘Well, bless my soul. Here’s me giving you a bundle of old clothes and you wanting a room. Dearie me.’ She laughed before wiping her eyes on the tea towel. ‘Get yourselves in, ladies, and let’s show you the room. I’ve not long taken a fruit cake out of the oven, so perhaps we can have a slice with a cup of tea while I gets to know you. You looking for a room as well, are you, love?’ she asked as she waved Maisie into the front room.

‘I think me ’usband and mother-in-law would ’ave something to say if I did, Mrs White,’ Maisie laughed. ‘Mind you, if yer cakes are any good, I’ll give them a week’s notice and move in with you. The mother-in-law can only burn things.’

‘Bless my soul,’ Mrs White exclaimed to Freda. ‘Your friend’s a right laugh, isn’t she? Now, park yourselves down there – move my knitting, that’s it – and make yourselves comfy. I’ll go put that kettle on.’

Maisie looked around her as she made room for them to sit on the chintz-covered armchairs. The room was very cosy, with a rag rug in front of a glowing fire and a long sideboard covered in china figurines. ‘Blimey, you’ve landed on yer feet here. It’s knitting heaven.’

Freda could only nod. Her chums were always joshing her about the amount of knitting she did, but going by the hanks of wool and the piles of patterns on a side table, Mrs White must be running a wool shop from her front room. ‘It’s wonderful,’ Freda sighed, before adding, ‘Pinch me – I must be dreaming.’

Over tea and slices of warm fruit cake, Mrs White told them all about her home. Freda was amazed to hear that indeed Mrs White and her daughter had run a wool shop in the town, but had closed the business when the daughter had married and moved to Wales.

‘It was time I thought about retiring, but I still do a bit of selling, and I have my weekly knitting-circle ladies to keep me company. Now, let’s show you the rooms. You must be dying to see them.’

‘Rooms?’ Freda looked dismayed: she could only afford a small bedsit. ‘The advert said one room. What if I can’t afford it and we’ve spent all the afternoon eating her fruit cake?’ Freda whispered to Maisie as they followed Mrs White down the basement steps.

‘Now, it’s not much to speak of, but it is clean and warm. My husband used the basement as his work room when he was alive. He was a watchmaker,’ she added proudly. ‘Tell me what you think.’

Freda stepped into a small room with whitewashed walls, an armchair and a small table with two chairs set against them. A small coal fire with a bright scatter rug were opposite.

‘This room looks out to the main road. There’s a bit of a window box, which makes up for the room being at basement level. You do get a fair amount of sun in the afternoon, though. Now, if you step through that door, you can see the bedroom.’

Freda found she couldn’t speak. The bedroom was slightly smaller than the living room, but there was space for a single bed, as well as a chest of drawers and hanging space. Again, the walls were whitewashed, and the one window looked out onto a small, low-level yard with steps up to a garden area.

‘This room does tend to be a bit gloomy in the wintertime,’ Mrs White said, ‘but then, it’s only meant for sleeping in, so why worry?’

‘I think it’s lovely, but I’m not sure I can afford the two rooms. I’ve only got a job at Woolworths, and I’m not on full pay until I’m twenty-one.’

Mrs White named a figure and both the girls gulped with shock. ‘Surely that’s not right, Mrs White. You must want more money than that for the two rooms?’ Freda couldn’t believe what she’d heard.

‘I’m happy with that, and after all, you’ll have to share my bathroom, although I’m more than pleased to cook an evening meal with the price. There’s a key to the door, so you can come and go as you please, and if you want to join in with my knitting circle, you’re more than welcome. I can see you’re a knitter: I’ve been admiring your cardigan. We’ll get on like a house on fire. Now, let’s go have another slice of cake, shall we?’

Sarah sighed and looked at the clock in the mess. Alan had been gone over two hours. She wasn’t sure how long it took to fly an aeroplane, but surely he’d be back soon.

Syd slid another cup of tea across the table. ‘He shouldn’t be too long now, love. It must be boring for you having to wait.’

Sarah didn’t wish to offend Syd, although she had the desire to yawn and stretch her arms. It had been interesting to hear about Alan’s family and how Syd had known them since the war. It seemed that Syd looked upon Alan as the son he’d never had, as he’d lost his own wife in childbirth when Alan was a toddler.

‘Does it take long to fly the plane? I mean, where does he fly to, and when does he know to come back?’

Syd laughed, making Sarah feel silly for asking such things. ‘Once you get up in the clouds, love, you lose all sense of time. Alan’s a natural flyer. Lads like him will be in demand before too long.’

Sarah didn’t understand. ‘I’m sorry, in demand for what?’

‘Fighting the enemy. Once the war starts, and it’s only a matter of time, all the lads who are trained to fly will be up in the clouds protecting England against the Huns.’

‘But flying’s just fun for Alan. He has a job. A good job. Surely he wouldn’t give all that up and risk his life?’

It was Syd’s turn to look confused. ‘I’m sorry, love. I thought you knew.’

‘Knew what?’

Syd looked uncomfortable and started to concentrate on the cup in front of him, turning it round in his hands, trying not to make eye contact with Sarah. ‘It’s best you talk to Alan, love. I think I’ve said too much. If I’d realized he’d not told you, I’d have kept my big mouth shut.’

Sarah felt an anger she’d never felt before stir inside her. How dare Alan keep such a secret from her? She thought he loved her, but obviously not if he was making changes to his life that did not include her. It was bad enough waiting these few hours for him to return, let alone a life of not knowing if he would crash and die, and then she’d never see him again. No, she wouldn’t put up with it. Alan had to change his plans or she would walk away from him forever. She looked around her at the men in the room. The only women were the ones serving behind the counter. It was a male reserve and she didn’t feel part of it. No doubt that was why Alan hadn’t told her how he felt or included her in his future plans.

Syd looked sad. It wasn’t his fault, she thought. In a way, she should be thankful that he’d let slip that Alan planned to spend his life in the air and not on the ground with her.

‘I have a bit of a headache. I think I’ll go outside for some fresh air.’

Syd reached for his jacket.

‘No, stay in the warm, Syd. I’ll be fine.’