such a pretty girl and we can spruce you up to look like a princess, more than fit to work in a shop. Come on, get this cup of tea down you and then we’ll start with your hair.’
‘Look, Emma,’ Archie said, holding up a little wooden boat. ‘Ucky Cyril made it for me.’
‘Uncle Cyril, not Ucky,’ Alice chuckled.
‘I’ve got one too,’ James said, joining Archie on the floor.
As the two children played with their boats, Emma watched them for a moment, noticing how clean and shiny their hair looked. She took a gulp of tea.
‘Unlike those two, it’ll take more than my hair to improve my appearance, Alice,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure I can find you something decent to wear.’
Alice had a lovely curvaceous body and Emma doubted she could fill her clothes. Her own bust was small, her hips tiny in comparison, and she was at least two inches shorter.
As if sensing her thoughts, Alice grinned. ‘I used to be a lot slimmer than this and I’ve kept the clothes I used to wear back then, hoping I’d get back into them one day. Come on, I’ll show you.’
Emma placed the cup on the table, then followed Alice into her bedroom. Unlike her family’s attic room, this one was lovely. Instead of mattresses on the floor, there was a real double bed with a wooden headboard and flowery spread. Emma’s eyes took in the two double wardrobes and dressing table, a pink glass trinket set arranged prettily on top. With so much furniture the room looked stuffed full, but to Emma it was beautiful.
Alice opened one of the wardrobes and when Emma saw the rail of clothes she gasped with envy. Alice rummaged past a couple of plain, linen dresses, finally pulling out two blouses and a skirt. ‘Cyril is always moaning that I never throw anything away, but I knew these would come in handy one day. Here, try them on.’
‘Oh, Alice, how can you afford so many lovely things?’
‘My Cyril earns a decent wage on the buses and there’s only been the two of us until now. I wanted kids so much, but they never came along. I think I shopped as a kind of compensation. Of course, during the war there wasn’t much on offer, only drab clothes, but I still managed to indulge myself. Since clothes rationing ended, I must admit I’ve gone a bit mad.’ She smiled softly. ‘It’s different now. The boys have changed our lives, and Cyril is growing as daft about them as me. Now come on, Emma, try these things on.’
Emma slowly undressed, ashamed that Alice was going to see her old and tatty knickers. She didn’t have a brassiere, but with her small bust it didn’t seem to matter. As Alice turned away to pull open one of the drawers in her dressing table, Emma hastily put on the skirt and first blouse. The light blue cotton skirt flared from the waist and felt a little loose. It was also a couple of inches too long, but she didn’t care. It looked almost new and felt wonderful. The white blouse with its Peter Pan collar was loose too, but it smelled fresh, of something flowery, and so soft against her skin.
‘They don’t look bad,’ Alice said. ‘You’ll just need to move the button on the waist and take it up. I’ve found some underwear too. This bra might fit you.’
‘I…I don’t think I need a bra,’ Emma said, feeling her face redden.
‘Of course you do. You can’t go around without a bra on at your age. Now come on, put your own stuff back on and we’ll have a go at your hair.’
‘You won’t be able to do anything with it.’
‘Of course I will, but first we’ll give it a good wash.’
Emma was apologetic. ‘I’ve tried to make it look nice, but without soap it dries all matted.’
‘Oh, love, I’m not saying you aren’t clean. I know you do your best, but as you say, it needs to be washed properly. Come on, I’ve got just the thing, and then I’ll give it a bit of a trim.’
It was over two hours later when Alice finally sighed with satisfaction. ‘There, you look smashing,’ she said.
Emma stared at her reflection in Alice’s mirror, hardly able to believe her eyes. Her lank, dull blonde hair was now shining, and sat on her shoulders in a profusion of waves. She still had her old clothes on, but she intended to alter Alice’s skirt as soon as she went upstairs.
‘Oh, Alice, I can’t believe it’s me,’ she cried, her eyes fixed on the mirror.
‘You’re not just pretty, Emma, you’re beautiful, just like your mum,’ Alice said, her eyes suddenly moist. ‘I was going to suggest a bit of make-up, but with such lovely skin you don’t need it. A touch of lipstick is enough. Blimey, anyone would be mad not to give you a job now.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ Emma said, finally tearing her eyes away from the mirror.
James and Archie had been so good, but were now demanding Alice’s attention.
‘They want their lunch,’ Alice said. ‘They never stop eating. My Cyril thinks they’ve got hollow legs.’
‘I’m sorry, Alice.’
‘Sorry! What have you got to be sorry about? It’s a pleasure to see them stuffing their faces. I just wish this flaming food rationing was over with. It’s a bloody disgrace. It’s years since the war finished. Anyway, pop into the bedroom to get your things, and don’t forget the underwear. I might have another skirt–I’ll dig it out–but for now I’d best sort these two lads out.’
Emma smiled her thanks, and left Alice’s clutching her new clothes. She couldn’t help thinking that their own flat looked so bleak in comparison to Alice’s, but sat on a stool, relieved that she had enough cotton left on the reel to complete the alterations to the skirt. The fire was still partly alight, enough to heat the iron. After pressing the hem, she put the skirt on, tucking the prettier of the two blouses inside.
There was no mirror to see how she looked, but Emma felt sure she was smart enough to get a job now. It was only when putting on her shoes that a frown creased her forehead. Worn down at the heels and scuffed, she knew they spoiled the outfit, but they were the only pair she had, and would have to do.
Her heart felt lighter and excitement mounted. It was after one o’clock, but she’d walk to Clapham Junction. There were loads of shops there. Surely one of them would have a vacancy.
Emma was about to leave when the door opened, Susan walking slowly into the room.
‘What are you doing here? Why aren’t you at school?’
‘I’ve been sick and my teacher sent me home.’
Emma felt Susan’s forehead, and for once believed her. She felt hot, her skin clammy. ‘All right, love. Let’s get you into bed.’
‘You look nice, Emma. Where did you get those clothes?’
‘Alice gave them to me.’
Susan was about to speak again, but then her hand flew to her mouth as she retched. In a flash Emma rushed her over to the sink, her nose wrinkling as her sister emptied her stomach.
