there something else, Bonnie?’
‘Thank you,’ she said, and the two women smiled.
‘By the way,’ Bonnie reminded her, ‘I’m taking Richard to buy some Christmas presents. We plan to go to Selfridges after school.’
Lady Brayfield nodded. ‘Does he have enough money?’
‘He’s saved almost £5 of his own pocket money,’ said Bonnie closing the door softly.
As she walked upstairs, it occurred to her that she would have to use some of her precious savings to buy presents for Lady Brayfield, Richard, Dora and Cook. She groaned inwardly but the moment the thought skittered through her mind, she was eaten up with guilt. How could she resent buying gifts for the very people who had been so kind to her? Wasn’t giving to others what Christmas was all about?
When the Christmas cards started to arrive at the house, Bonnie decided that she would at least send a card to her mother and sister. Woolworth’s had single cards, and she’d bought one. She didn’t have to put her address on it and even if her mother saw the London postmark, London was a very big place.
Alone in her room, Bonnie got the card out again but she couldn’t think what to write inside. Was it wise to rake up all those memories? Her mother would most likely have settled back down to normal life. What right had she to upset her again? How different everything had been last Christmas when she and Rita had put up the decorations together. They hadn’t been up to much. The same things had been up and down for all the Christmases Bonnie could remember. ‘I’ll get you some new ones next year, Mum,’ she’d promised.
‘Get some pretty ones with plenty of glitter,’ Rita had said.
A lump formed in Bonnie’s throat. She wouldn’t be keeping her promise and she wouldn’t see the old ones going up either. Sick at heart, Bonnie wrote a short note inside, addressed the envelope and stuck on a stamp, but she put the Christmas card in a drawer.
Six
As a Saturday girl, it was left to Rita to put the dresses back on hangers in the department once the customers had tried them on. It was also her responsibility to make sure each customer was given a chiffon scarf to put over her face so that she didn’t get powder or lipstick on the dresses. Most of Hubbard’s clients were happy to comply with the rule but occasionally she would get a complaint. Miss Bridewell usually handled that, and although she was politeness itself, somehow the customer knew not to argue with her if she wanted to try the dress on.
As well as Miss Bridewell, there were three other girls in the department: Sonja, a petite brunette with very high heels; Susan, a rather timid girl with bitten-down nails who seemed terrified of Miss Bridewell; and Dinah Chamberlain. Dinah was a little older than the others. She had been Bonnie’s best friend when she worked at Hubbard’s. She worked as the mannequin and spent all day modelling the clothes. She only came back into the department when she wanted to change her outfit for something else.
At the first opportunity, Rita was determined to talk to the girls about her sister. It was now December 6th, a whole month since Bonnie had left home. She still hadn’t told her mother about George but then what was there to tell? Bonnie had been frugal with the details. Rita hadn’t even know his last name and who knows, perhaps they had broken up anyway and Bonnie had left Worthing to get away from him. She told herself not to worry but in truth she was as worried as her mother. If anyone was likely to know Bonnie’s plans, it would be one of the girls at work. Rita found her opportunity to talk about her sister when she was called into one of the cubicles.
‘I remember her,’ said Sonja. ‘I was downstairs in the glove department when she worked here. She was going to London, wasn’t she?’
They were helping Dinah out of a charcoal grey wrap-over coat with big shoulders which was nipped in at the waist.
The New Look from Paris had swept the country. After years of ‘make do and mend’, Dior had been extravagant with material. Although expensive, Hubbard’s wasn’t up to Dior standards but they were a highly fashionable store. Rita loved the flowing lines and small-waisted dresses and jackets. It was obvious that Dinah loved wearing them too.
Dinah would stroll around the store carrying a card with a number on it. She frequented the restaurant where shoppers met their friends for morning coffee or afternoon tea and lingered if she thought a customer was especially interested in what she was wearing. When she got back to the fashion department, the customer would only have to remember the number on the card Dinah was carrying for Miss Bridewell to know exactly which outfit she had admired.
It was Rita’s job to put the items back on display as soon as possible in case a customer had followed Dinah back to the dress department and wanted to try it on.
‘I can’t believe my sister went so far on her own,’ said Rita, choosing her words carefully. She folded Dinah’s long sage green gloves and put the matching hat back into its hatbox.
‘I heard she was going off to be with a man friend,’ Susan said, holding up Dinah’s next ensemble, a halterneck evening dress in the palest shade of yellow.
As she stuffed the felt hat with tissue paper, Rita’s heart leapt. So Bonnie had been planning to run away with George.
‘Georgie Porgie pudding and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry …’ Susan’s chant was cut short when Dinah dug her in the ribs.
Rita hardly noticed. Her thoughts were back with that suitcase under the stairs at Mrs Kerr’s house. Why hadn’t George come back for it?
‘Is Bonnie doing all right then?’
Rita wished she’d persuaded Mrs Kerr to open his suitcase. Should she go back there?
‘Rita?’
She looked up sharply. The other girls had been called away to serve two matronly women and she was left alone with Dinah. The older girl was looking intently at her. ‘How is Bonnie? I was surprised that she went without a word to anyone. We were pretty good friends when she was here. Did she tell you about me?’
‘I think so,’ she said absently.
‘She promised to write,’ said Dinah. ‘Can you help me with the buttons at the back?’
Rita wiped her hands on the side of her own dress and walked behind Dinah’s back. There were at least ten material-covered buttons. How on earth anyone was expected to get into this dress without help was beyond her. Dinah shuddered slightly as Rita began. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Cold hands.’
‘She’s very brave going all that way,’ said Dinah, patting her hair and pushing in a stray pin. She wore it swept back with a mass of loose curls high on her head.
Rita nodded. She hadn’t really thought about it but London was miles away, wasn’t it. Fifty at least.
‘Just think of all that lovely sunshine,’ Dinah sighed. ‘Blue skies and lovely beaches. All white sand, you know.’
All buttoned up, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. Rita gave her a puzzled look. ‘In London?’
‘No … South Africa,’ Dinah chuckled. ‘That’s where she was going,’ and seeing Rita’s horrified expression she added, ‘I’m sorry, Rita. Didn’t you know?’
As she left the cubicle, the mannequin obviously had no idea of the effect her words had had on Rita. South Africa? Was Bonnie really going all that way with George? Rita felt sick. She couldn’t let on to Mum or she’d be frantic with worry. South Africa? It might as well be the far side of the moon. This bit of news had spoiled her first day. It was hard to shake off the deep foreboding and not even collecting her first ever wage packet at the end of the day could make up for it. Her sister had walked out of her life and gone to a rich man’s paradise without a backward glance at the family who loved her so much. Rita bristled with anger. How could Bonnie be so selfish? How could she have put them through