rose to his feet, and as he walked out of the room Celia chased after him. ‘George, where are you going?’
‘For a walk,’ he snapped while pulling on his overcoat. Moments later he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Celia just stood there for moment, brows furrowed. George had changed lately, had become sharp in his criticism of her, but she felt that something else was going on, something underlying his odd behaviour. Was it to do with his business? Was George having financial problems and keeping it from her? No, that couldn’t be it, she decided, he was as busy as ever.
Whatever the underlying problem was, Celia was sure that it wasn’t anything to do with their marriage. After all, she was a good wife and mother. It was George who had changed, not her.
On Monday morning the fog had cleared and Carol’s mother, Daphne Cole, stood at the bottom of the stairs to shout impatiently, ‘Carol, get up! If you don’t get a move on you’ll be late for work.’
‘Yeah, I’m coming,’ she called back sleepily. Carol hated Monday morning, and her boring job in the shoe shop did nothing to inspire her to get out of bed. She didn’t mind most of the customers, but dreaded those that had smelly feet, especially if they wanted her to take their foot measurements. However, as she became fully awake Carol thought about the shop fitter who had caught her eye. Now he was worth getting up for.
It didn’t take Carol long to get ready, but she wished she didn’t have to put on the black, pencil skirt and white blouse that all the staff had to wear. She needed something striking to be noticed, and as Carol sat at her dressing table she decided that instead of dragging her long, auburn hair into a ponytail, she’d try something more sophisticated. It took a little time, but at last Carol managed to style her hair into a neat French pleat. She then applied make-up, and smiled at her own reflection. Yes, she looked good. Surely the shop fitter would notice her today.
‘Why are you all done up like a dog’s dinner?’ her mother asked as soon as Carol appeared downstairs.
‘I’ve only done my hair in a different style.’
‘It’s more than that. You’ve got far too much make-up on. With all that green eye-shadow and black mascara, you look like a flippin’ clown.’
‘I think it looks nice,’ Carol said, ignoring her mother’s criticism as she poured herself a cup of tea. Sometimes she felt that her mum was jealous of her, and she had never been given the attention or shows of affection that were showered on her brothers.
‘Come on, girl, it’s time you left for work,’ her mum now chided.
Carol glanced at the clock, grabbed a slice of toast, threw on her coat and hurried out, calling, ‘Bye, see you later.’
Amy was just leaving her house too, and Mabel Povis was on her doorstep, cleaning her letterbox. Carol saw the woman looking at her with disapproval, but ignored her as she linked arms with Amy.
‘You look nice,’ Amy said as they walked up the Rise.
‘Thanks,’ Carol said, pleased to hear that after her mother’s carping. She saw that Amy was hardly wearing any make-up, just a touch of mascara and pink lipstick. She still looked nice though, pretty in a wholesome sort of way, with her blonde bubble-cut hair, pink cheeks and clear, blue eyes.
‘I suppose you’re all done up for that shop fitter’s benefit,’ Amy said, grinning.
‘Who else?’ Carol quipped. ‘I just hope it works.’
As they passed Tommy’s house, Amy glanced up at one of the bedroom windows, musing, ‘I wonder how he is today?’
‘How was he last night?’ Carol asked.
For a moment Amy looked surprised at the question, but then she stammered, ‘His … his chest was still bad.’
‘Well then, he’s hardly likely to be much better this morning,’ Carol said, wondering why Amy looked flushed. If Tommy was so ill, they couldn’t have got up to much, but maybe a few kisses had been exchanged. Fancy blushing about that, Carol thought. Now, if they had gone all the way it would be different, but like her, Carol knew that Amy was still a virgin. Moments later they turned onto Lavender Hill, saving on bus fare as usual by walking to Clapham Junction.
When they reached the crossroads Amy was about to turn the corner, as after passing Arding & Hobbs department store they would soon come to the shoe shop, but Carol grabbed her arm, pulling her to the other side of the road, saying, ‘Let’s walk along to the shop that’s being refitted and cross over again in front of it.’
Amy smiled knowingly. ‘I suppose you’re hoping that fitter will see you.’
‘Yes, and I can get a closer look at him.’
Carol wasn’t disappointed. He was there, this time standing outside while rolling a cigarette. She planted a smile on her face and began chatting inanely to Amy about the weather as they drew near.
At last he turned his head, eyes roaming over them and then, best of all, with a cheeky grin, he said, ‘Now there’s a sight to cheer a bloke up in the morning.’
Carol quipped back, ‘Glad to oblige.’
‘Come on, Miss Winters is opening up,’ Amy hissed and after looking both ways, she hurried across the road.
Fuming, Carol did the same, but as she looked back over her shoulder, the shop fitter called, ‘I go to the Nelson Café at around twelve thirty for my lunch. Maybe I’ll see you there.’
‘Yeah, maybe,’ Carol called back, her heart racing. She didn’t know his name yet, and he looked older than she’d first thought, but he was even better looking close up and nothing was going to keep her from the café at lunchtime.
Mabel Povis put her washing in the bath to soak and then went next door to see Phyllis. She used the back entrance, none of them keeping their gates or back doors locked until they went to bed, and going through the kitchen into her friend’s living room Mabel said without preamble, ‘I think Amy should stay away from Caroline Cole.’
‘Why?’ Phyllis asked from her chair by the fire.
‘Because Carol looks, and acts, like a tart. You should have seen her this morning, all done up with her face plastered with make-up. Her mother is little better, vain and full of herself.’
‘Daphne is all right, and Amy has been friends with Carol since they were kids. She’s a nice girl,’ Phyllis argued.
‘I must admit that Daphne has a lot to put up with,’ Mabel said. ‘You know how thin our walls are, and Frank seems to be a bit insatiable on the you know what side. He’s at Daphne every night, and from what I’ve heard he won’t take no for an answer.’
Phyllis chuckled. ‘Are you sure you’re not jealous?’
‘A bit of slap and tickle every night! No thanks,’ Mabel protested.
‘If I had the energy I wouldn’t mind,’ Phyllis said, running a hand tiredly over her face.
Mabel was used to Phyllis being a bit worn out, after all, she was up at the crack of dawn, but this morning she looked exhausted, her complexion grey. Not only that, it was unusual to see Phyllis just sitting, especially on a Monday morning when nearly every woman in the street tackled their laundry. A little worried Mabel asked, ‘What’s up, love? You look a bit rough.’
‘I’m just tired.’
‘If you ask me, it’s more than that,’ Mabel said. ‘You look ill.’
‘I feel a bit washed-out today, that’s all. I think I need a tonic.’
‘Talking