Better Days will Come. Pam Weaver

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СКАЧАТЬ 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 all this?

      The following Friday afternoon, Snowy knocked on the door at three o’clock sharp. When she walked in, Grace was putting the tin bath in front of the range.

      ‘I picked this up on the mat,’ said Snowy coming right in. She handed Grace an envelope. Grace tore it open and pulled out a Christmas card. ‘It’s from my mother,’ she said, looking inside.

      ‘How is your mother?’ asked Snowy.

      ‘Fine,’ said Grace. ‘Getting older.’ She wiped around the inside of the bath with a damp cloth. A spider scurried away from the cloth but got swept up in it anyway. ‘Don’t mind me,’ Grace went on. ‘Rita wants a bath after tea.’

      Outside in the scullery, the water in the big boiler was heating up nicely. Grace had cleared the kitchen table but she had left two cups and saucers and one of her legendary ‘Cut and Come Again’ cakes in the middle.

      ‘Thanks a lot for doing this, Snowy,’ she said taking the older woman’s coat.

      ‘Gives me something to do,’ said Snowy waving her hand dismissively.

      ‘Have you heard from your Kate yet?’ Grace was pouring a little hot water into the teapot before swirling it around to warm it. She tipped the water into the sink and reached up for the tea caddy.

      Snowy shook her head. ‘I don’t suppose I will until she reaches Adelaide.’

      ‘It’s a long way,’ Grace sympathised.

      Grace knew that her friend struggled with the fact that her daughter was halfway across the world and now that Bonnie was gone, she had some vague idea how Snowy must feel.

      ‘What are you doing for Christmas?’ said Grace passing a cup towards her.

      ‘I asked the King if he could put me up but the miserable old bugger said he was off to Sandringham,’ Snowy shrugged.

      ‘Good,’ said Grace, ‘then you’re coming here.’

      ‘No, no,’ Snowy protested. ‘I couldn’t put you out.’

      ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Grace. ‘There’ll only be Rita and me. I was thinking of inviting one or two of the other neighbours in for a bit of a singsong like we did in the war years.’

      ‘If I come,’ said Snowy, ‘you must allow me to contribute something.’

      ‘There’s no need.’

      ‘I insist.’

      They gave each other a mutual smile of understanding andcarried on sipping their tea. As soon as СКАЧАТЬ