The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(66)
Ruby nodded, although she didn’t want to be the one to keep an eye out. There might be shouting and she couldn’t bear that. Still, she couldn’t refuse to help. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll go and look at the kitchen calendar now and see when might be next.’ She disappeared through the internal door just as the main shop door bell rang.
In came Nancy, wearing a coat Rita hadn’t seen before. It was of good-quality wool in a lovely dark green and had a tight belt, showing off her younger sister’s neat figure and emphasising her curves. Rita felt a pang of envy. Once she too had had curves to be proud of, but those days were long gone.
‘Morning,’ she said, trying to keep the emotion from showing in her voice. ‘That’s a fine coat you have there, Nancy. Where did it come from?’
‘Fire damaged, can you believe it?’ Nancy pirouetted on the spot. ‘You can’t tell but the lining is scorched in places. I’m going to replace it when I have a moment. Honestly, Rita, I’m rushed off my feet now.’
Rita raised her eyebrows but said nothing. When it came to being rushed off her feet, she was the expert. She didn’t need Nancy making a show about it.
‘It’s all these American engineers arriving in the city,’ Nancy continued. ‘You’ve no idea how many are over here now. And they all need taking care of – after all, it’s our duty, isn’t it? Even though they are from a neutral country, they are still helping us out in the fight against Hitler. I feel for them being so far from home, I really do. I wish I could do more for them than just give them a cup of tea.’
‘Nancy, you’re a married woman,’ Rita began, but Nancy let out a delighted yelp of laughter.
‘Oh, listen to me, what have I said? I didn’t mean that. No, but they’re used to better food and everything, and all we can give them is a biscuit if they’re lucky. Still, mustn’t grumble. I do feel I should make an effort though, you know – cheer them up by adding a bit of glamour to their lives.’ She brushed her sleeve. ‘Don’t suppose you have any nice soap in? I always feel more like myself if I have a decent bar of soap.’
‘We’ve got Lifebuoy,’ Rita said bluntly.
Nancy’s face fell. ‘Is that it? Are you sure? I was hoping you’d have some Pears. I love that, it’s so delicate.’
Rita shook her head firmly, thinking how her own fair skin had suffered without the softer brands of soap. ‘No, Nancy, it’s Lifebuoy or nothing.’
Nancy came closer to the counter. ‘You wouldn’t have any round the back, by any chance? I know that Winnie …’
Rita sighed in exasperation. ‘No, Nancy, we don’t. We don’t do sales from round the back any more. If we had some Pears I’d be delighted to sell you some and I’d use it myself, but we don’t.’
‘Oh well, worth a shot.’ Nancy didn’t seem too disappointed. ‘I’ll see if there’s any in Lewis’s warehouse. I’m just around the corner from there, it’s so convenient.’ And with that she breezed back through the door, forgetting to close it properly.
Rita followed her and resisted the urge to slam the door, thinking how lovely it would be to have something more fragrant than the carbolic she usually made do with nowadays. But until the war ended, that seemed about as likely as finding out where all the tins of beans were vanishing.
Laura listlessly picked up a tray in the mess queue and wondered what the options would be today. As Wrens, they were being fed adequately, as everyone knew you had to make sure service personnel had proper sustenance, but none of them actually looked forward to meal times any more. Kitty had regaled them with tales of corners they’d been forced to cut when she was in the NAAFI canteen back home, and that was before the rationing got so bad. Now the choice was Spam fritters or a meat pie. Laura could guess that the contents of the pie would only be very slightly laced with meat, and the rest would be made up of oats or some other cereal to eke out the precious flavour. At least there were plenty of potatoes. She sighed for the days when they would have come slathered with butter, but butter was very strictly rationed now and was definitely counted as a luxury. She thought of all the farms near her family home, and wondered if Cook had managed to come to an arrangement with them. Her parents would be sitting down to a delicious lunch right now, with fresh eggs, maybe a chicken … Laura could feel her mouth watering at the idea. Maybe she should try to go home on her next leave – and yet she didn’t feel inclined to do so.
Wearily she chose the pie and nodded when the kind woman behind the counter offered her an especially large helping of potatoes. Word had got around that Laura had performed a heroic action and saved a child, and suddenly everyone was bending over backwards to be nice to her. She knew she should be grateful. People were making an extra effort in recognition of what she’d done, and yet she couldn’t rise to the occasion and appreciate it. She didn’t know what was wrong with her.
Laura carried her laden tray across to the tables. A group of Wrens she barely knew were gathered at the closest one. All of them smiled, and a dark-haired young woman moved her chair so there would be room for one more person to sit down. Laura smiled back but shook her head. She really didn’t feel like company, certainly not that of people she barely knew. She’d have to explain to them what had happened, and she’d already told the story what felt like a thousand times. She’d made sure to keep her account as basic as possible, resisting the urge to embroider it, leaving out some of the more gruesome details, if anything, not wanting to horrify her listeners. She briefly squeezed her eyes shut. The noise of the burning buildings, the breaking glass, the overwhelming heat: how could she possibly convey this to anyone who hadn’t been there? She made her way to a small corner table that was far from the rest of the staff, not wanting to be drawn into conversations or to have to listen in to whatever the others were discussing.