of her and her colleagues to steam any creases out and fold the sweaters neatly, three in a box lined with tissue paper. They worked at a table, in pairs, facing each other.
The new factory was a lot more modern than the old one. In the morning, they played
Housewives’ Choice
over the radio and at lunchtime they heard
Workers’ Playtime
in the canteen. The people around her hummed and sang as they worked but Grace wasn’t really listening. Her thoughts were where they had been for the past ten days – with Bonnie. She had waited a whole week and then she had pawned the brooch she had inherited from Michael’s mother. She had always intended to give it to the daughter who got married first. She would have given it to her before they set out for the church on her wedding day but there was no time for sentiment now. She had to find Bonnie.
She’d gone to the pawnbroker along the High Street. It was a dingy little shop, dark and cluttered, and she’d taken the fifteen shillings he’d offered without quibbling. It was probably worth a lot more than that, but there was no time to argue. All she had wanted was to get on the train first thing on Saturday morning.
She’d scoured the concourse at Victoria station and stopped tens of people to ask if they had seen Bonnie. She was met with blank stares, nervous frowns, some hostile reactions and a few sympathetic conversations but nobody remembered seeing her daughter.
‘There was one young woman,’ the station master had told her, ‘but she was looking for her husband.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Grace had asked.
The station master had leaned towards her as he made a circular movement with his finger next to his forehead. ‘I think she was probably some poor sod who couldn’t get over the death of her old man,’ he said confidentially. ‘We get them all the time. Sometimes a relative will come for them but, worst case scenario, they jump under a train.’
Grace shuddered. ‘When did you last see her?’
The station master shrugged. ‘Couple of days ago?’ They were both together in his office. As he spoke, a bell began to clang behind him. He stood up and put on his jacket. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me …’
‘My daughter is eighteen and she has lovely brown hair,’ Grace said quickly. ‘She wears it tied at the back, like this. She’s very pretty.’
The station master ushered her out of the door and put on his hat. ‘This one had a beret,’ he said as he hurried away.
‘You’ve got four on that pile.’ Grace heard Snowy’s voice but she was still deep in thought. Bonnie was a capable girl but Grace worried that she wasn’t looking after herself properly in London. Was it possible she was with that man? Who was he anyway? She never talked about him, not properly anyway. What if she’d fallen in with a bad lot? What if some awful man went for her – could Bonnie take care of herself ? How was she going to live with no job? Grace realised Bonnie had taken all the money from the green tin; and why not? It was her own money; but she knew Bonnie had been saving it for Christmas. Grace had no real idea how much was in the tin, but it probably wouldn’t last long.
‘Grace, I said, you’ve got four sweaters on that pile.’
Grace looked up as Phyllis Snow, Snowy as they all called her, put a hand over hers. At the same time, Snowy jerked her head towards the door.
Grace shook her head. ‘Oh sorry.’ She quickly rearranged the sweaters before Norah Fox, their supervisor, spotted her mistake. She was coming their way.
The sweaters were lovely colours, one powder blue, one pink and the other an oyster white. Lovely and soft too. Pity they were all going to Canada, Grace thought. After all the hardships of war, everybody looked forward to a bit of luxury in the home markets but it was a long time coming.
‘Time for your break, girls,’ said Norah.
Snowy linked one arm with Grace and the other with Kaye Wilcox as they headed for the
The new factory was a lot more modern than the old one. In the morning, they played
Housewives’ Choice
over the radio and at lunchtime they heard
Workers’ Playtime
in the canteen. The people around her hummed and sang as they worked but Grace wasn’t really listening. Her thoughts were where they had been for the past ten days – with Bonnie. She had waited a whole week and then she had pawned the brooch she had inherited from Michael’s mother. She had always intended to give it to the daughter who got married first. She would have given it to her before they set out for the church on her wedding day but there was no time for sentiment now. She had to find Bonnie.
She’d gone to the pawnbroker along the High Street. It was a dingy little shop, dark and cluttered, and she’d taken the fifteen shillings he’d offered without quibbling. It was probably worth a lot more than that, but there was no time to argue. All she had wanted was to get on the train first thing on Saturday morning.
She’d scoured the concourse at Victoria station and stopped tens of people to ask if they had seen Bonnie. She was met with blank stares, nervous frowns, some hostile reactions and a few sympathetic conversations but nobody remembered seeing her daughter.
‘There was one young woman,’ the station master had told her, ‘but she was looking for her husband.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ Grace had asked.
The station master had leaned towards her as he made a circular movement with his finger next to his forehead. ‘I think she was probably some poor sod who couldn’t get over the death of her old man,’ he said confidentially. ‘We get them all the time. Sometimes a relative will come for them but, worst case scenario, they jump under a train.’
Grace shuddered. ‘When did you last see her?’
The station master shrugged. ‘Couple of days ago?’ They were both together in his office. As he spoke, a bell began to clang behind him. He stood up and put on his jacket. ‘Now if you’ll excuse me …’
‘My daughter is eighteen and she has lovely brown hair,’ Grace said quickly. ‘She wears it tied at the back, like this. She’s very pretty.’
The station master ushered her out of the door and put on his hat. ‘This one had a beret,’ he said as he hurried away.
‘You’ve got four on that pile.’ Grace heard Snowy’s voice but she was still deep in thought. Bonnie was a capable girl but Grace worried that she wasn’t looking after herself properly in London. Was it possible she was with that man? Who was he anyway? She never talked about him, not properly anyway. What if she’d fallen in with a bad lot? What if some awful man went for her – could Bonnie take care of herself ? How was she going to live with no job? Grace realised Bonnie had taken all the money from the green tin; and why not? It was her own money; but she knew Bonnie had been saving it for Christmas. Grace had no real idea how much was in the tin, but it probably wouldn’t last long.
‘Grace, I said, you’ve got four sweaters on that pile.’
Grace looked up as Phyllis Snow, Snowy as they all called her, put a hand over hers. At the same time, Snowy jerked her head towards the door.
Grace shook her head. ‘Oh sorry.’ She quickly rearranged the sweaters before Norah Fox, their supervisor, spotted her mistake. She was coming their way.
The sweaters were lovely colours, one powder blue, one pink and the other an oyster white. Lovely and soft too. Pity they were all going to Canada, Grace thought. After all the hardships of war, everybody looked forward to a bit of luxury in the home markets but it was a long time coming.
‘Time for your break, girls,’ said Norah.
Snowy linked one arm with Grace and the other with Kaye Wilcox as they headed for the
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