Better Days will Come. Pam Weaver
‘Why were you there then? What were you doing on the platform?’
‘I’ve been in Southampton on business,’ he said irritably.
‘Did you see her get on the train?’
‘No, but then I’m hardly likely to, am I?’ he said. ‘I travel first class. Does Bonnie travel first class? No, I didn’t think so, so why would I have seen her? Don’t be so melodramatic, Grace.’
Grace fumbled for the door handle but couldn’t open the door. ‘I didn’t expect any sympathy from you but Bonnie leaving like this … it’s breaking my heart.’
‘For God’s sake, Grace. Nobody died, did they?’ Norris said coldly. ‘She’ll be fine.’ He got out of the car and came round to the passenger side. Just as he opened the door Grace’s neighbour walked by under a large umbrella.
‘There you are, Mrs Rogers,’ Norris said loudly and cheerfully as he stepped back. ‘Back home safe and sound. Can I help you with your door key?’
Grace shook her head. The door was open anyway. She hadn’t stopped to lock it. She turned and he waved cheerfully as he got back into his car. He drove off at speed, leaving Grace standing like a dumb thing on the pavement.
‘You’ll catch your death of cold,’ said a voice. ‘You look soaked to the skin.’ Their eyes met and she hesitated. ‘You all right, Grace?’ Her neighbour who lived next-door-but-one, Elsie Dawson, was on her step putting her key into her own door. Dougie, her son, stood behind his mother waiting for her to open it. Elsie, her middle son Dougie and daughter Mo were good friends with Rita and Bonnie, and they had all enjoyed sharing times like Christmas and Easter together. Bob, Elsie’s oldest boy, was in the army now andMo was in the same class as Rita at school but Dougie was what the powers that be called ‘retarded’, a term which made Grace cross. He might struggle with understanding, but he wasn’t stupid. Once he knew what you wanted, Dougie would put his hand to anything.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Grace said with as much dignity as she could muster. But once inside the house, she sat alone on the cold stairs and gave way to her tears once again.
As the train sped towards London, Bonnie stared out of the window. She should have done this earlier in the day while she still had the opportunity. The light was going and by the time she reached Victoria station it would be dark. Never mind, George would be there to meet her. If for some reason they missed each other, he’d told her to wait by the entrance of platform 12.
She had finished work a lot earlier than she’d thought she would. The people in the wages department had worked out that she was owed a half day’s holiday so rather than give her the extra in her wage packet, she had been told she could go by ten o’clock. Seeing as how she had arranged to meet George in time for the train, it meant she had a couple of hours to kill. Her case was already in the left luggage department at Worthing and she couldn’t go back home, so she went to his digs.
Mrs Kerr, his landlady, was her usual unwelcoming self. ‘He’s not here,’ she’d said curtly, ‘and I have no time to entertain his guests.’ She had obviously taken her apron off to answer the door and now she was putting it back on again.
‘Do you know where he might be?’ Bonnie had asked.
‘He’s going to London.’
‘I know that,’ Bonnie had said. ‘I just wondered if he was still here.’
Mrs Kerr shrugged. ‘As far as I know, he’s gone to the old factory.’
Bonnie had frowned. ‘But why? It’s all shut up, isn’t it?’
‘All I know is he said he’d found something. Now I’m very busy.’
‘Do you know what he’d found?’ Bonnie persisted.
‘Am I my brother’s keeper?’ Mrs Kerr snapped as she shut the door.
Bonnie had stood on the pavement wondering what to do. There was still plenty of time before the train so she’d decided to walk to the factory. She didn’t have to go right into West Worthing. There was a Jacob’s ladder in Pavilion Road which was between the stations and came out at the bottom of Heene Road. Although she was wearing her best shoes, which were quite unsuitable for walking, it hadn’t taken her long to get to Finley’s Knitwear.
She had met George Matthews at a dance in the Assembly Hall. He was a friend of a friend and they’d hit it off straight away. He was so debonair, so handsome and so unlike any of her other friends that it wasn’t long before she was hopelessly in love with him. He worked at the knitwear factory in Tarring Road, the same as her mother. He was a machine operator, while her mum worked in the packing room. George was getting good money but he was ambitious so when it was announced that the factory would be moving to new premises, he felt it was time to move on.
‘I don’t think the boss is a very nice person,’ he’d told her. ‘Don’t let him get too close to you.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ she’d asked, thoroughly alarmed.
He’d hesitated for a second then changed the subject. ‘There are real opportunities in places like South Africa, and Rhodesia and Australia, the sort of opportunities the likes of you and me will never get in this country. We can get away from all the corruption in high places. It’ll be a whole new start, far away from the war and everything to do with it.’
‘If Mr Finley is up to something,’ she’d asked, ‘should I say something to my mother?’
He’d shaken his head. ‘Your mother and all the other girls are safe enough if you keep your distance, but he’s deep, that one.’
Out of loyalty, he stayed long enough to help clear up the old place, but just lately he’d seemed even more troubled about something. ‘I’m glad we’re going,’ he said one day. ‘I really don’t want to work for Finley any more.’
Once again she’d asked why but he told her not to worry her pretty little head.
‘How will we get to South Africa?’ she’d asked.
‘Leave all that to me,’ he’d said mysteriously, and then he’d filled her imagination with sun-drenched beaches and cocktails before dinner and making their fortune. They’d made love in his digs at Pavilion Road. They had to be very careful for fear of his landlady who was a deeply religious woman, but while she was wrestling with the Devil at the prayer meeting every Tuesday night, Bonnie and George were wrestling between the sheets. And while Mrs Kerr studied the Bible every Thursday, they filled themselves with more carnal delights. Bonnie smiled cosily as she remembered those wonderful nights together.
‘Tickets please.’ The conductor on the train brought her back to the present day and Bonnie handed him her ticket.
When she’d told him about the baby, George had been wonderful about it. That’s when he had bought her the locket. It was so beautiful she’d vowed to wear it all the time. He’d said she should get a job until it was time for the baby to be born and then they would set sail. Having a baby in South Africa wasn’t as safe as here in England. He’d promised to get her passport all sorted and she’d saved up the £2 2s 6d she needed. The last thing she’d done as she’d left the house was to remember to take her birth certificate. Bonnie couldn’t wait. It was so exciting.
‘I shall need references,’ she’d told George.
‘I’m sure you can get someone to vouch for you,’ George said, nibbling her ear in that delicious way of his. ‘I think you’re a very nice girl.’
She’d giggled. He had a way of making her feel that it would all work out. Right now everything was such a mess but once they were married, it would be all right. She was sure of it.
She had decided to ask her old Sunday school teacher to give her a reference. She didn’t really know why, but she trusted Miss Reeves absolutely. She didn’t tell her everything, of course,