the interruption and took her magazine to the private sitting room on the other side of the adjoining shop wall.
Dolly waited until the woman, not much older than herself, climbed the three wooden steps with exaggerated difficulty and closed the connecting door behind her. ‘Given that he’s got an elasticated conscience, he’ll still have the steak but pretend it’s Thursday.’
‘You’d better hope Father Harding doesn’t decide to visit,’ Rita grinned.
‘Your father will do his usual disappearing act out the back door as the priest walks in the front,’ Dolly answered, ‘and he’ll take his steak with him. Oh, well, fishmonger’s, here I come.’
‘Ta-ra, Mam,’ Rita called, watching through the large glass window as her mother scurried away. With so much going on, Rita did not have the heart to heap any more worry onto her mother’s shoulders so she kept her worries about the children being evacuated to herself.
There was just one possible bright star on the horizon, however. Rita knew Dolly would be thrilled if she took up her nursing career again, and maybe – just maybe – that could happen. It was too early to say anything yet but Rita hugged to herself the knowledge of her application for a nursing job. War was looking increasingly likely and, as she’d already had some training, she felt it would be her duty to do what she could. In fact, she would relish the opportunity. If war did break out it would give her a chance to get out of here.
Later, Sarah nipped into the shop and asked Rita if she would go next door and have a look at Mam’s new suit. ‘She thinks it’s too young for her.’
Rita was keen to see it. The kids were having the tea she had made earlier and Mrs Kennedy was resting her imaginary bad leg – again.
‘Mrs Kennedy, can you keep an eye on Charlie’s dinner; I just have to go into me mam’s for five minutes?’ Rita put her husband’s dinner of mashed potatoes, cheese pie and peas onto a pan of gently simmering water and put another plate over it to keep it hot.
‘I’ll look after it, Rita,’ Mrs Kennedy said as Rita left for her mother’s house, reasoning that Mrs Kennedy was helpful when she put her mind to it. Rita wished her good moods were a bit more frequent, that’s all. If her mother-in-law was as easy-going in front of Charlie, he might be able to relax more.
‘Gloria!’ Nancy Feeny’s hereditary titian-coloured curls bounced in the afternoon sunshine as she hurried down the street in white, peep-toe wedge-heeled sandals. They would certainly have got her into trouble with her supervisor in the exclusive George Henry Lee haberdashery department if she wore them for work. However, she was not working today because of the imminent wedding and was just setting off to go into town.
Nancy was sure Gloria had heard her and she waved to her best friend. Gloria had obviously not been in work, and by the look of her evening gown and swish jacket, she had not even been home last night. Detecting a whiff of gossip in the hot afternoon air, especially if that notoriously nosy Vera Delaney saw Gloria, Nancy hurried over. For a moment, she felt a pang of envy at her friend’s freedom to do as she pleased.
Nancy admired the blush-coloured square-shouldered ‘swing’ jacket, lavishly embellished around the neck with diamanté, that swayed around Gloria’s slim hips, a gorgeous contrast to the navy-blue skirt and cardigan, teemed with a plain white blouse that they were obliged to wear to serve behind the elegant counters at George Henry Lee.
‘I’m just going into town if you fancy coming with me?’
‘Shh!’ Gloria put her finger to her lips and pointed to the open upstairs window at the Sailor’s Rest. Already undoing the jacket, she beckoned Nancy to follow as she headed towards the side door of the public house, where her father had been the proprietor for the last twenty years. ‘I’ll have to change out of these first.’
‘You have been out all night, haven’t you?’ An incredulous laugh laced Nancy’s words. ‘You dirty stop-out … Tell me everything!’ Gloria’s silky blonde shoulder-length hair, which framed her flawless features in a becoming Jean Harlow style, still looked as immaculate as always.
Nancy wished her own despised auburn waves were as gorgeous, and hoped Gloria, her lifelong friend and chief bridesmaid, would not steal her limelight tomorrow. With an inimitable giggle in her voice and a natural wiggle in her hips, Gloria was never short of male attention. Men said they wanted to protect her, although Nancy could not think why, given that Gloria, brought up over a pub, could take care of herself very well.
‘I miss us going out together,’ Nancy said wistfully. Sid was the jealous kind. He did not like Nancy and Gloria spending their evenings together. Gloria liked to go to late-night jazz clubs in town, which was harmless fun really. She just enjoyed singing, and she had a smashing voice. Nancy was flattered Sid loved her so much he wanted to be with her every night he was not working shifts on the docks, and he had made it clear Nancy was not to go dancing without him. She could see Sid’s point of view, too. What kind of a husband let his wife run around town at all hours of the night? Not that she ever would now. Not in her condition.
He did not mind Nancy going to see Gloria when he was having a pint in the pub, though. Gloria lived upstairs, and lately they would spend the evening going over the wedding preparations and listening to the wireless.
‘Did you see Sid last night?’ Gloria asked, her tone unusually abrupt.
Nancy’s eyebrows puckered. ‘No, he’s working nights on the dock.’
‘Oh, is that what he told you?’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Nancy asked. It was not like Gloria to be sarcastic or even annoyed usually. They could tell each other anything. Except … Nancy placed an almost protective hand on her abdomen …
She and Sid had decided that they would keep the news of her pregnancy to themselves. Nancy knew how people talked and he’d asked her to marry him ages ago. There was no point in filling people’s mouths with gossip when they were already getting married.
‘I couldn’t have a man telling me what to do,’ Gloria answered. ‘You want to put your foot down and tell him it’s not the Victorian days and he doesn’t own you.’
‘He doesn’t tell me what to do … well, not always.’ Nancy was confused. She knew there was no love lost between Gloria and Sid. Gloria thought he was overbearing and domineering, telling Nancy what she could and could not do, and Sid thought Gloria was fast and heading for trouble in a big way. But this display of waspish criticism was surely due to her best friend being jealous. After all, who would have thought Nancy would be the first to get married? She remembered the night of Sid’s proposal vividly.
Nancy told Sid she was staying in and washing her hair because he was doing night work on the docks when, in truth, she and Gloria had made plans to go to the local church dance. They had spent all their dinnertime discussing what they would wear. Getting dressed up was half the fun. Nancy favoured the Rita Hayworth look and Gloria was the image of Jean Harlow.
Nancy remembered she had just finished waltzing with Stan Hathaway from Accounts when she caught sight of Sid standing at the church door. She was rooted to the spot. Sid glared over to where she was, still in Stan Hathaway’s arms. He had always had his eye for her and said so as they danced … Poor Stan, thought Gloria.
