Better Days will Come. Pam Weaver
had waited a whole week and then she had pawned the brooch she had inherited from Michael’s mother. She had always intended to give it to the daughter who got married first. She would have given it to her before they set out for the church on her wedding day but there was no time for sentiment now. She had to find Bonnie.
She’d gone to the pawnbroker along the High Street. It was a dingy little shop, dark and cluttered, and she’d taken the fifteen shillings he’d offered without quibbling. It was probably worth a lot more than that, but there was no time to argue. All she had wanted was to get on the train first thing on Saturday morning.
She’d scoured the concourse at Victoria station and stopped tens of people to ask if they had seen Bonnie. She was met with blank stares, nervous frowns, some hostile reactions and a few sympathetic conversations but nobody remembered seeing her daughter.
‘There was one young woman,’ the station master had told her, ‘but she was looking for her husband.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Grace had asked.
The station master had leaned towards her as he made a circular movement with his finger next to his forehead. ‘I think she was probably some poor sod who couldn’t get over the death of her old man,’ he said confidentially. ‘We get them all the time. Sometimes a relative will come for them but, worst case scenario, they jump under a train.’
Grace shuddered. ‘When did you last see her?’
The station master shrugged. ‘Couple of days ago?’ They were both together in his office. As he spoke, a bell began to clang behind him. He stood up and put on his jacket. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me …’
‘My daughter is eighteen and she has lovely brown hair,’ Grace said quickly. ‘She wears it tied at the back, like this. She’s very pretty.’
The station master ushered her out of the door and put on his hat. ‘This one had a beret,’ he said as he hurried away.
‘You’ve got four on that pile.’ Grace heard Snowy’s voice but she was still deep in thought. Bonnie was a capable girl but Grace worried that she wasn’t looking after herself properly in London. Was it possible she was with that man? Who was he anyway? She never talked about him, not properly anyway. What if she’d fallen in with a bad lot? What if some awful man went for her – could Bonnie take care of herself? How was she going to live with no job? Grace realised Bonnie had taken all the money from the green tin; and why not? It was her own money; but she knew Bonnie had been saving it for Christmas. Grace had no real idea how much was in the tin, but it probably wouldn’t last long.
‘Grace, I said, you’ve got four sweaters on that pile.’
Grace looked up as Phyllis Snow, Snowy as they all called her, put a hand over hers. At the same time, Snowy jerked her head towards the door.
Grace shook her head. ‘Oh sorry.’ She quickly rearranged the sweaters before Norah Fox, their supervisor, spotted her mistake. She was coming their way.
The sweaters were lovely colours, one powder blue, one pink and the other an oyster white. Lovely and soft too. Pity they were all going to Canada, Grace thought. After all the hardships of war, everybody looked forward to a bit of luxury in the home markets but it was a long time coming.
‘Time for your break, girls,’ said Norah.
Snowy linked one arm with Grace and the other with Kaye Wilcox as they headed for the canteen. ‘We’ve been worried about you, Grace,’ said Snowy. ‘You’ve not been yourself all week. Anything we can do to help?’
Snowy was a nice woman, about eight or ten years older than Grace, with a matronly figure and steel grey hair arranged in sausage curls around the nape of her neck. Kaye was about thirty with deep-set eyes and raven black hair. She had never married but rumour had it that when she was a young girl she’d had a fling with a married man. Snowy took a packet of Players Navy Cut from the pocket of her wraparound apron and offered one to Grace. Grace shook her head. Kaye put on some more lipstick and rubbed her lips together.
‘Oh, sorry, I forgot you don’t smoke,’ Snowy smiled as they waited in the queue. ‘Now. About your problem, do you want to talk about it?’
Grace could feel her eyes already pricking with tears. She couldn’t bear to make a fool of herself but at the same time shedesperately needed to talk to someone.
Kaye squeezed her arm encouragingly.
‘Come on, love,’ said Snowy taking charge.
‘You know we can keep a secret,’ Kaye encouraged.
They each took their meagre portion of stew and some bread and butter and sat a little way away from the others.
‘My Bonnie has left home,’ said Grace. It took a few minutes to explain the situation and why she was so concerned but Snowy and Kaye were patient listeners.
‘How awful for you,’ said Kaye. ‘She’s not in trouble, is she?’
Grace’s eyes widened. ‘Both my daughters are good girls,’ she said haughtily. She refused to even think about such thing. Thevery idea!
‘Don’t get on your high horse,’ said Snowy. ‘If she is, she wouldn’t be the first now would she?’
Grace’s mouth tightened. ‘I’ll thank you not to cast aspersions.’
‘I didn’t mean anything by it, Grace,’ Kaye protested. She glanced at Snowy for support.
Snowy laid a hand over Grace’s. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Take no notice of me. Perhaps I’ve just seen a bit too much of life.’
But Grace wasn’t in the mood for forgiveness. She picked up her tray and went to join the girls on another table. She felt sick. She had refused to let herself think that. Bonnie in trouble. Dear God, that was it. Why else would she up sticks and leave like that? No, she wouldn’t believe it. Not Bonnie. Grace recalled what she had said to her when she’d reached sixteen. ‘Now don’t you go bringing trouble home.’ She’d meant it as a caution, but had Bonnie taken it as a threat? Dear Lord, what had she done?
She plonked her tray down next to Poppy Reynolds who interrupted her thoughts. ‘What are you doing this Christmas, Grace?’ Her bright eyes were dancing with excitement. ‘I’m going to the New Year’s Eve Ball at the Assembly Rooms.’
‘How nice,’ Grace smiled. She was happy for her. It was about time the girl had something to look forward to. Poppy had had a difficult war, losing both a brother and her father.
‘My auntie’s making me a smashing dress. It’s got yards and yards in the skirt and it’s so tight around the bodice,’ she leaned forward confidentially, ‘that I won’t have to wear a bra.’
‘Better watch out for those boys with their wandering hands then, Poppy,’ laughed one of the other girls and Poppy’s face went pink.
Grace picked at her food. She normally enjoyed listening to their banter, or joining in with the laughter when Gert and Daisy said something funny on Workers’ Playtime, but the ache in her chest got worse and worse with each passing day. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so harsh on the girl. She’d never met her boyfriend, but perhaps he wasn’t such a bad lad. It’s was just that giving a young girl a present so early on in their relationship didn’t seem right. If she’d met him, she might have given Bonnie her blessing to go out with him. She might have tried to talk her out of it, but she would have given her blessing in the end. Bonnie was the sort of girl who seized the moment without a thought of the consequences. Grace realised now that she should have sat her down and talked, but she’d been hasty, angry, annoyed. If only she could turn the clock back. What if she had run away with that boy? What if he had left her high and dry? What if Bonnie had come to her senses and wanted to come back home? What if she didn’t have enough money? And what if there was a baby? She hated to think of the poor girl going through all that on her own. Added to the worry about her daughter, money was really tight. It had been difficult