really want to know—’
Miss Garner herself sounded amazed as she pulled a piece of scrap paper towards her.
‘I wrote this down so that I could relay it correctly. Mrs Tunnicliffe couldn’t praise you highly enough. “Quick-thinking” was the phrase she used. And she told Mr Marlow to make sure you were properly thanked.’
‘Never!’ The word was out before Lily could help herself.
A brief smile touched Miss Garner’s lips.
‘That’s what she said. But—’
She couldn’t let this go without delivering something of a lesson.
‘You crossed a line, Lily, and I can’t recommend you ever do the same in future. Though let’s hope the situation won’t arise.’
‘No, Miss Garner. Of course not. But – have I got this right? Shall I … can I … can I stay on?’
‘Yes. You can consider yourself reprieved.’
Lily looked blank. It wasn’t a word she knew.
‘It means that it’ll go in the incident book, though I’m not quite sure under what heading … but when it comes to your staff record – well, it’s more likely to be entered as a mark in your favour than against. Anyway, leave that to me. We’ll say no more about it. Well, go on!’ she chided. ‘You’d better get to your department! Or you’ll be late!’
‘Yes, Miss Garner.’ Lily was beaming. ‘Of course! And thank you!’
She scuttled down to the basement and stowed her things away. As she straightened her hair in the mirror – no Beryl to hog it today, just a few stragglers, as the ten-minute bell had already gone – she still couldn’t stop smiling. She’d somehow got away with it, she’d lived to fight another day. No, bad choice of words – lived to work another day. And at Marlow’s, not at the laundry, not at the Fox and Goose!
‘Thank you, God,’ she breathed, as she walked on to the sales floor. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you.’
Miss Frobisher looked surprisingly unsurprised to see her – Miss Garner must have tipped her off. Miss Thomas raised an eyebrow to Miss Temple but gave Lily a smile. Gladys was open-mouthed, her face a pantomime of astonishment, delight and relief. But best of all was Beryl, whose mouth also fell open – in shock.
‘Not so unlucky after all,’ she hissed as she passed Lily later that morning. ‘How did you do it? Who do you know up on the third floor? Got a mate up there, have you?’
‘No,’ said Lily.
‘Well, you’ve got away with it this time,’ said Beryl nastily. ‘But you’d better watch your step.’
‘Oh, I will,’ Lily assured her. With you and everyone else, she thought, as Beryl turned back to her own department.
She wouldn’t be taking any more chances.
Over the next few weeks, as a thankful Lily settled in, she began to feel more and more at home at Marlow’s.
Miss Frobisher was certainly determined to make sure she ‘got to know the department’. Day by day she took Lily round the racks and display cabinets, pulling out drawers, showing off leather bootees with embroidered flowers (pink or blue), tiny but fully fashioned socks and miniature vests. In the toddler section for boys there were flannel shirts, elasticated bow ties, velveteen shorts, and child-sized braces. For girls, there were Liberty lawn dresses, corduroy pinafores and Viyella blouses. The party dresses, their protective tissue removed for the day’s trading, hung stiffly on their racks, crying out for jelly, ice cream and streamers. Some hope these days, thought Lily – though maybe not for the sort of children whose parents could afford these prices on top of their child’s coupons. Miss Frobisher pointed out again where items were missing – the sizes and styles Lily and Gladys had carted up to the stockroom. These were the ones the juniors would be sent to fetch.
Lily’s bond with Gladys was strengthening every day and Lily was so relieved that it was Gladys she worked with, not someone like Beryl, who continued to smirk when she saw them leaving the store arm-in-arm, and mockingly called them ‘the lovebirds’.
‘She’s just jealous,’ Lily reassured Gladys. ‘She doesn’t seem to have a single friend of her own on the staff.’
‘She’s more interested in boyfriends, isn’t she?’
They’d both seen Les, who, Lily learned, worked as a driver in Despatch, lounging with a cigarette by the staff entrance as he waited for Beryl to complete her elaborate toilette at the end of the day.
But there was something admiring and envious in Gladys’s tone, and Lily knew there was nothing her new friend would have liked more than to have a boyfriend of her own. But if Lily despaired about her looks, at least she had a pert little nose and wide-set blue eyes, unlike Gladys whose hair was poker-straight, whose looks were unremarkable, and who was prone to the odd outbreak of angry spots.
Gladys was almost as potty about the pictures as Sid, though naturally she preferred a ‘nice romance’ to the action-adventures Sid enjoyed. Her search for a Hinton-based Errol Flynn was hardly likely to be satisfied soon, though, if ever, and not just because of her looks. It was a shame, because Gladys was so kind and generous – such a good person – but the sort of person people took advantage of. As Lily had realised on that very first day, it was a good job Gladys had Lily to be her protector, even if only from the likes of Beryl.
Despite her bravado, Lily was still a bit nervous of Beryl herself. She had such a bold manner with men, and such a sharp tongue. Beryl would smile quite brazenly at Robert Marlow when he toured the first-floor departments, whereas Lily and Gladys tried, as the staff manual urged the juniors, to make themselves helpful but invisible.
Only with Jim did Lily risk a smile and a word on the shop floor. The day after the air raid, he’d arranged his Tudor-style dining set in the corner he’d identified, and set the table with cloth and crockery, but Lily hadn’t been invited to tea. He hadn’t witnessed the shelter incident but he’d heard about it, of course, because he’d grinned at her and asked where she’d learn to throw such a powerful right hook. Lily had blushed and he realised he’d perhaps gone too far.
‘One way to get yourself noticed, I suppose,’ he’d commented.
‘I shan’t be repeating it, don’t worry,’ was Lily’s response.
After work, as they walked to their respective bus stops, Gladys took her to task.
‘How do you do it?’ she demanded.
‘What?’
Lily wasn’t aware she’d done anything.
‘Talk to people – boys – like that Jim – the way you do.’
The question baffled Lily but it was true, Gladys blushed and stammered if anyone in trousers, staff or customer, young or old, gave her so much as a polite nod of the head and a ‘good morning’.
‘I suppose,’ said Lily thoughtfully, ‘it’s because I’ve grown up with them. Boys, I mean – my brothers. I’m used to having them around. I don’t think anything of it.’
Gladys sighed enviously. Apart from the father she’d adored, she’d never been exposed to male company the way Lily had.
‘Come to tea,’ said Lily impulsively. ‘One night soon. Then you can meet Sid for yourself. You’ll see, it’s impossible to be shy with him around!’
Gladys’s face lit up.
‘Oh, Lily, I’d love that!’ she cried. ‘Thank you!’
‘I’ll