Pack Up Your Troubles. Pam Weaver
Connie took Mandy’s hand and tried to slip away. ‘Excuse me.’
Mandy turned her innocent face towards them. ‘Bye, Mr Frenchie.’
‘Goodbye,’ he said.
Mavis only scowled and as Connie reached the lane she heard her saying, ‘I know you like helping these ungrateful wretches but really darling, do you have to do it every day?’
‘For me?’
Sally Burndell was surprised when her mother came into the shop and handed her a letter. ‘I knew you couldn’t wait,’ she smiled. ‘It’s from them, isn’t it?’
‘In a minute, Mum,’ said Sally drawing her mother’s attention to the woman standing by the till. ‘I’ve got customers.’
‘Sorry, luv,’ said Mrs Burndell stepping to one side. ‘My Sally is going to college. The first girl in our family to get a real education.’
‘Mum …’ Sally protested.
‘Well, I can’t help being proud, can I?’ said Mrs Burndell turning to go. ‘See you later.’
The customer smiled indulgently and Sally rolled her eyes.
It was mid-morning before Sally had the chance to open the envelope. She had to wait until the old lady had gone back to the house and the shop was empty before she dared to take it from her apron pocket.
The letter from the college was brief and because of her tears, Sally had a job focusing her eyes properly to read it. Nine words stood out from the rest. ‘… unable to offer you a position at this time …’ Why? What had happened? They’d seemed so sure about her at the interview. She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and began again. ‘We regret that due to certain facts coming to light we are unable to offer you a position at this time …’ She pushed the letter back inside the envelope and sniffed loudly. What facts? Had somebody said something bad about her? She heard the back door of the house slam. Old Miss Dixon must be coming back. Could this be something to do with her? Had the old bag given her a bad reference? Sally looked up but it wasn’t the old woman coming.
‘Time for a cuppa,’ Connie called as she walked into the shop with two cups of tea on a tray. Sally pushed the letter back in her pocket.
‘You all right, Sally?’ Connie asked casually.
‘Fine,’ said Sally a little too quickly but to Connie it was obvious she wasn’t. Her eyes were puffy and she refused to meet Connie’s gaze. She busied herself with the apple box, taking out the damaged ones and giving the good ones a bit of a polish with a duster.
‘Coming to the dance this week?’ Connie persisted.
‘No.’ Sally shook her head. ‘I’m washing my hair.’
‘Oh, come on,’ she said. ‘If you’re feeling a bit down, it’ll do you the world of good.’
‘Terry’s coming home,’ said Sally. ‘People might talk.’
Connie shrugged. If Sally didn’t want to come anymore, there was little she could do.
*
The Japanese surrender came suddenly. When the announcement came over the radio, Ga called from the back door. ‘Constance, Sally … leave that and come inside.’ They closed the shop door and walked across the yard. The radio was turned up enough to let the people in the next county hear it but when Connie mentioned it, Ga said, ‘Shhh. Listen.’
‘This is London,’ the announcer Alvar Lidell began. ‘The Prime Minister, the Right Honorable C.R. Attlee.’ The radio crackled and then his deep slow voice was followed by the more reedy tones of Clement Attlee.
‘Japan has surrendered. The last of our enemies is laid low …’
It all seemed to be a bit of an anti-climax but even though she was still a little distant, Connie hugged Sally. It seemed that the horrors inflicted on Hiroshima and Nagasaki by the atomic bomb had brought a swift end to all hostilities. She took a deep breath. This was the first day of peace in the world for nearly six years.
As the day wore on, Ga insisted on listening to every news bulletin on the radio. In the evening Connie took the bus into Worthing to be with her friends. She’d asked Sally to come but she was met with the same response. Connie shrugged inwardly. There was clearly something wrong but Sally wouldn’t talk about it. Ah, well, if the girl wanted to be on her own she could but after all the misery of the past few years, Connie wanted to let her hair down. She met up with Jane Jackson near the pier. The country had been given two days’ holiday and there were to be fireworks later on but there were fewer flags than on VE Day and only the usual holiday crowd along the seafront. She was missing Kenneth again. What sort of war had he had? Had he survived? No, she wouldn’t even think about that. Of course he was alive … somewhere. Connie struggled to be glad. A grey veil of disappointment seemed to hang over everyone until a hastily formed band of amateur musicians gathered and the young people took over. The two girls gave a wonderful display of the jitterbug and before long, everyone was joining in. For Connie, it wasn’t the same as being in the crowds in London on VE Day but she and Jane had made a valiant attempt to get the party going.
Despite their high hopes, the end of the war hadn’t brought change. There were still petrol shortages, little in the way of coal and supplies and rationing had actually been increased. Aunt Aggie came to see Ga on the Thursday for their weekly game of whist but elsewhere there was little in the way of celebration at the nurseries.
‘You should have seen the queue outside Potter and Bailey’s today,’ she told them at supper. ‘Someone said there was a shipment of bacon but by the time I got there, there wasn’t a rasher to be had.’
‘I noticed that the butcher in the village has a sign in the window,’ Aunt Aggie said. ‘I can’t remember the exact words but it was something like, “Wanted: magician for next week’s stock”.’ And they all laughed.
‘So much for the Labour government,’ Ga muttered darkly.
When Clifford and her mother got back from their week’s holiday, Gwen looked rested and actually sported a bit of a suntan.
‘It was simply heavenly being able to walk along the seafront without all that barbed wire and concrete,’ she said. ‘The shops were a bit bare but we had fireworks when the Jap surrender was announced.’
They’d managed to pick up a couple of sticks of rock for Mandy, a perpetual calendar covered in shells and a present from Eastbourne on it for Ga, and a pretty headscarf for Connie.
Clifford had bought a roll of toilet paper. When he put it on the table Ga wrinkled her nose. Connie burst out laughing. It was called Nasti Toilet Roll and had a cartoon picture of Adolf Hitler on the wrapper.
‘Guaranteed non-irritant,’ grinned Clifford. ‘Good, eh?’
Gwen had even thought of Sally Burndell and Sally seemed quite touched by the box of three handkerchiefs from Woolworths.
‘They’re very pretty,’ said Sally, ‘but you shouldn’t have.’
‘You look as if you need a bit of cheering up,’ smiled Gwen. ‘That boyfriend of yours will soon be home.’
August was drifting towards September. Double summer time finished its first stage in July when the clocks went back one hour. Clifford had eased himself back into position but there was a tension between him and Ga. Even so, the nurseries were being run efficiently and smoothly. The next time Connie went into the lane, Kez and her family had gone. There were no goodbyes. When she saw the pitch was empty, Connie wondered about the pram she had given Simeon. Nothing had been said about it and she was a bit annoyed that he’d apparently taken it with them. She’d trusted him and it would have been nice to give it to her little sister for Christmas.
Mandy and Pip had played outside with her friends during the long school