The Boy with the Latch Key. Cathy Sharp
supervised by the man who ran the youth club. The youth club had been started three years earlier by Father Joe, the Catholic priest who had organised so many events for St Saviour’s Orphanage and other kids. After he’d left London to go and work in a mission in Africa for two years, another clergyman had come to take over. He told the kids to call him Peter, and he was an Anglican curate in his first post in Spitalfields. Peter Simmons was involved with many activities for children, and popular with the teenagers who visited the club, because of his easy-going nature. He was keen on rugby and rowing and a member of the same athletics club that Billy frequented at least twice a week and together they’d organised a football team for the local kids, both those from St Saviour’s and any other kids who loved to play. There was no shortage of volunteers, because belonging to a club that played matches was better than kicking a ball about the streets.
‘I went to see a couple of rooms near Assembly Lane yesterday evening,’ Billy said, looking rueful. ‘They were awful and the whole place stank of old cabbage. You would’ve hated it, love. I’m still looking …’
‘I know you are,’ Mary Ellen said and squeezed his hand. ‘I got a rise today – another five bob a week. If we were married we might get a flat somewhere, because with my money we could afford it.’
‘Rose would never let you, not unless I could prove I can keep you, Mary Ellen. You know what she thinks of me … a waster like my brother.’
‘You’re nothing like Arthur,’ Mary Ellen fired up. ‘I’ve told her so many times but she doesn’t listen. She thinks I’m still a kid but I’m not … I’ll be eighteen this Sep-tember and you’ll soon be nineteen; neither of us is a kid now.’
‘No, you’re a real woman, my woman,’ Billy said and slid his arm about her waist, ‘but unfortunately, Rose can stop us gettin’ married until you’re twenty-one. It ain’t fair, because we can drive at seventeen, fight for our country and drink in the pub at eighteen – but we can’t marry until we’re twenty-one without permission. The bloomin’ government should change the law, but what do they know? I’d have to get round Sister B – but that’s a doddle …’ He grinned. ‘Shall I get us a coffee while you take your coat off?’
‘Yes, all right – listen, I love this one. It’s Bill Haley …’
‘Yeah, one of my favourites,’ Billy agreed. He shrugged off his old and much-worn leather bomber jacket, which he’d bought from Petticoat Lane and believed to have belonged to a fighter pilot in the war, and gave it to her. ‘Stick this with yours, love?’
‘’Course,’ Mary Ellen said and took the two jackets through to the cloakroom to hang on a peg. She paused for a moment to fluff her hair up in front of the mirror and then jumped as someone grabbed her arm. Turning, she looked at the girl who’d caught hold of her and smiled in pleasure. ‘Marion! I haven’t seen you for weeks. Where have you been?’
‘My boss at Woolworth’s sent me away for training. I’m a senior adviser on the counters, and windows, supervising how they look, and the girls on them; I’m getting six pounds a week now …’
‘Lucky you,’ Mary Ellen said, half envious. She still wasn’t earning that much, even after she’d been given her rise. ‘I think I’m going to pack in my job and start on at Woolworth’s.’
‘You wouldn’t get as much as me,’ Marion said. ‘It’s about three pounds ten shillings or even less for new-comers.’
‘Oh … that wouldn’t be as much as what I’m getting now,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling disappointed. If she could have earned as much as Marion, she might have been able to afford her own house with Billy, always supposing Rose would let her get married.
‘Six pounds sounds a lot,’ Marion said, ‘but I’m struggling to find a decent room I can afford. If I go out a few times a week and eat three meals a day it doesn’t leave anything much over for clothes – at least you get discount on yours, Mary Ellen.’
‘Yes, I do,’ she agreed. ‘How much are you paying for your room then?’
‘Three quid with breakfast and evening meal,’ Marion said. ‘You’re lucky you’ve got a sister. When I left St Saviour’s I had to stay in a hostel for girls like me; it was much cheaper but it was awful, worse than being an orphan. All the rules … and the beds were hard and the toilets were filthy …’
‘I bet Rose would let you move in with us for less than you’re paying,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘She charges me twenty-five bob a week for board and all my food …’
‘But you’re her sister,’ Marion pointed out. ‘I wouldn’t mind giving her two pounds a week if she would have me.’
‘I’ll ask her,’ Mary Ellen promised. ‘I think she would be glad for you to share the rent. It makes it easier for her, and we can help with the chores and cooking. Rose gets tired sometimes when she’s on late shifts. If they’re short of nurses she sometimes has to do longer hours.’
‘Is Billy with you?’ Marion asked as they left the cloakroom together. ‘I came with Jill from work. She’s on the cosmetic counter and gets a lot of free samples when the salesmen come round. They think she can influence the buyers, but of course our stuff is all ordered from head office. Jill only gives advice as to what is selling and what isn’t …’
‘I like that Tangee lipstick,’ Mary Ellen said. ‘They’ve got some lovely colours and it stays on well.’
‘Do you like this scent?’ Marion leaned nearer for her to smell. ‘It’s Lily of the Valley and Jill gave it to me – the last of the bottle. She’s got a new one … Evening in Paris …’
‘Yes, it’s all right,’ Mary Ellen said, not liking it but not wanting to offend her. ‘Billy got me some Elizabeth Arden perfume for last Christmas; it’s lovely …’
‘I can smell it,’ Marion agreed, looking a bit envious. ‘Did that skirt come from your workshop?’
‘Yes, but I made the net petticoats myself. If you come round one night I’ll show you some of my stuff, Marion. We could get some material cheap on the market and I’ll make a skirt and petticoats for you, too.’
‘Will you really?’ Marion looked pleased. ‘If Jill gets any of those lipsticks you like free, I’ll ask her for one for you …’
Billy stood up as the girls approached. ‘I’ve got a coffee for us, Ellie. Marion, I can get one for you if you like?’
‘No, thanks, Billy,’ Marion said, giving him a flirtatious look. ‘I’m with a friend – but you can ask me for a dance later, if you like?’
‘Maybe,’ he said. ‘I expect you’ll be busy all night once you start …’
Billy shrugged apologetically as Marion swayed off, her hips moving enticingly. You’d never know now that as a child her leg had been badly broken and for a while she’d walked with a limp. ‘We were all mates at St Saviour’s,’ he said. ‘I suppose she thinks she can say things like that … but she knows we’re together …’
‘Marion fancies you,’ Mary Ellen said, feeling a twinge of jealousy, which she instantly quashed. Billy was good looking – not handsome, but rugged because of all the sport – and he had a nice open face. She knew there were plenty of other girls who fancied Billy but she also knew that he loved her.
Mary Ellen hadn’t wanted to work in the clothing manufacturers’ workshops. She still wanted to teach children, but Rose had put paid to her dreams when she’d made her leave school at fifteen and start on as an apprentice. She was well aware that life didn’t always give you what you wanted; she’d learned that when she was very young and her mother died, but she’d got more of the good things than most, because she had a steady job working for a boss she liked, and she’d got Billy – and when she was twenty-one they would marry, no matter what Rose thought, but that was such a long time to wait …
‘Feel