A Store at War. Joanna Toye

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СКАЧАТЬ knocked glasses and each took a cautious sip. Watery, as they expected, and their expressions showed it. Jim looked guardedly at Robert, who’d insisted on buying the drinks. This was unprecedented, and they both knew it.

      ‘Smoke?’

      Robert produced a gold cigarette case engraved with his initials, flicked it open and offered it to Jim.

      ‘I don’t, thanks.’

      ‘Of course not. Clean living. Very wise.’

      Robert extracted a cigarette, lit it with a lighter which matched the case, took a deep draw on it and sat back.

      ‘You’re probably wondering what this is all about. I don’t make a habit of waylaying people in the street. Forcing them into public houses. But, well, my father and I have been having a chat. He’s given me special responsibility for the junior staff. So when I saw you … I thought I might as well start somewhere!’

      ‘And this “responsibility” entails what exactly?’

      A group of drinkers nearby erupted in raucous laughter. Robert waited for the hilarity to die down before continuing.

      ‘It’s about staff morale, Jim. Now the war’s dragging on, and we don’t seem to be making much progress … shortages starting to bite, not so much stock to sell, customers getting tetchy, the store turned upside down and inside out, and now to cap it all we’re a storage depot for the RAF … Dad and I want to know how the staff are bearing up. Because as the old man’s fond of saying – happy staff make happy customers.’

      Jim could not in a million years imagine Cedric Marlow saying anything of the kind. Though he had heard a rumour that Marlow’s was changing its advertising agency from a small local firm to a bigger one from Birmingham. Perhaps they’d been coming up with slogans. They were probably the same outfit that had invented ‘Doctor Carrot’ and ‘Potato Pete’.

      ‘So come on, Jim – how are things? Tell me about life behind the scenes. The chat, the gossip. The stockroom and the staff canteen.’

      Jim considered. He wasn’t sure about this. Wasn’t Robert being a bit over-friendly all of a sudden? Was he being pumped for information, or was the interest sincere? But he had to say something, not that he really knew.

      ‘Things are fine – I think. As far as you can tell. There’s a bit of grumbling of course, but that’s inevitable, isn’t it? Everyone grumbles – about queuing, about the blackout, about rationing …’

      ‘But the shop itself? Any specific complaints there? A feeling that one department’s being favoured over another? Moans about being cramped for space? Hours of work? Conditions?’

      Jim suddenly realised what Robert was getting at.

      ‘You’re worried about a strike!’

      Strikes had been banned for over a year under Defence Regulations and arbitration was compulsory. But there was a lot of discontent, even in some of the industries most essential for the war effort, like engineering and mining, and the unions were starting to believe that you could strike in wartime and win. There was no union at Marlow’s – only bigger stores like the Co-op had one – but Jim felt the day had to come when all workers had some sort of protection from unscrupulous bosses. Not that Marlow’s were unscrupulous – they looked after their staff pretty well, considering. Though when, along with the rest of the staff, Jim had heard about Lily and the incident with Violet Tunnicliffe, he’d wondered what would have happened to her if things had turned out differently and she’d faced the sack. Would anyone have spoken up for her? Would he?

      Robert raised an eyebrow, waiting for Jim’s reply.

      ‘I certainly can’t say I’ve heard or seen anyone that disgruntled,’ Jim said. ‘Strike, what about? Why? What for? Have you heard something different?’

      Robert took a swig of his drink and pulled a face. Jim couldn’t help thinking wine or whisky would probably have been more to his taste, even if the beer had been full-bodied. But Robert had presumably felt obliged to go with this blokeish man-of-the-people act.

      ‘Not within Marlow’s, no. But there’s trouble brewing at Burrell’s. Or could be. Some of the women workers agitating for equal pay, can you believe!’

      This was the talk in pubs and homes up and down the country. Privately Jim couldn’t see anything wrong with it, provided women were doing the same jobs as men – as many were, now. But he could see the worry for shop and factory owners who employed so many women – their wage bill would rocket.

      Judging rightly however that he and Robert might not agree on the subject, Jim bought time by taking a sip of his drink too. Robert had finished his cigarette and ground it out grittily underfoot.

      ‘When I say not within Marlow’s,’ Robert went on, ‘I suppose I mean not yet. But some of the staff we’ve had to take on lately … that new little girl on Childrenswear for instance?’

      ‘Lily?’ Jim was incredulous.

      ‘That’s the one. You know about that business in the shelter. With the Tunnicliffe daughter.’

      ‘Yes, of course. But …’

      ‘She got lucky there,’ mused Robert. ‘Turns out she did the right thing. But in other circumstances … With that sort of attitude, if she turned her mind to workers’ rights … she could be a proper troublemaker.’

      ‘Lily, a troublemaker!’ Jim burst out. ‘She wouldn’t dare, not now, anyway. I think she feels lucky to have kept her job. I can only say again,’ he repeated, ‘I’ve heard nothing about strikes from the people I talk to.’

      Jim didn’t add that he didn’t really talk to many people at all. Lily and Gladys, yes – and they were nice girls but only kids – junior even to him. On his department, apart from the buyer, Mr Hooper, and Mr Seddon, first sales – both retired staff brought back for the duration – and a couple of juniors, there was only Maurice Bishop, who’d seemed jealous of Jim from the start and had never been over-friendly. In the canteen, the nearest Jim had heard to a complaint was the lack of a decent football team to follow or the comments when a promised cottage pie turned out to be thickened Bisto topped with mash.

      Robert, however, seemed relieved.

      ‘Well, that’s good to know. And look, Jim – I don’t want you to think I’m sounding you out as a sort of spy in the camp. I wouldn’t ask you to do that. I’m going to be talking to other younger staff members – men and women, all grades, all departments.’

      ‘I didn’t think that for a minute,’ Jim reassured him, though he had, of course. What he was pondering now was his next move. Since he had Robert’s attention, should he or shouldn’t he say something about Sir Douglas and the whole delivery business? There might never be another chance.

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