The Complete Helen Forrester 4-Book Memoir by Helen Forrester

Author:Helen Forrester
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-10-22T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

Fiona went for her interview. Father provided her with threepence for the tram fares to and from the city, and she returned glowing with excitement.

‘I think I’ve got it,’ she said, as she took off the Robin Hood hat with its bright yellow feather and handed it back to Mother. ‘They said they’d let me know – they want to see one or two other girls before deciding.’

She did not return my stockings, but she was so relieved and happy that I did not want to spoil things for her. I did not tell her that the phrase ‘We’ll let you know’ was the stock dismissal of an unsuccessful candidate. She would learn the sad facts of job-hunting in Liverpool by experience. She had been fortunate in finding her first job, because few girls would want to work in a butcher’s or a fishmonger’s shop, and she was probably by far the smartest fourteen-year-old to apply.

I went on sweeping the living room’s tiled floor and then worked my way over the small piece of coconut matting in the middle, briskly brushing the dust and debris towards the hearth.

‘What kind of work is it?’ Mother inquired. She was seated at the table, writing pad and bottle of ink before her, and she did not look up from her composing of a begging letter. She still occasionally wrote to perfect strangers asking for financial help, and quite frequently received compassionate replies enclosing a welcome pound or two.

Fiona sat down on the easy chair and clasped her hands in front of her. She replied eagerly, ‘They would teach me to use a thing called an addressograph. It makes the labels to put on the magazines they send out. They’ve got hundreds and hundreds of magazines, lovely ladies’ magazines and story ones – everything. They send them out to subscribers. They’ve got so many that they even have to have a van to take them to the post office.’

‘Are there many on the staff?’

‘No. Two gentlemen saw me – and an old lady who does the books. I don’t think there was anyone else.’

‘What’s the pay?’ asked Alan.

‘Twelve shillings and sixpence a week at first, and then in two months’ time – if I get quick at managing the machine – they’ll give me fifteen shillings. Isn’t it great?’

Alan looked amazed. ‘Holy Cain! You lucky thing! I’m only getting seven and sixpence – and Helen’s been working nearly three years – and she’s only getting twelve and sixpence.’

I was actually receiving fifteen shillings, but I dared not say so. The precious half-a-crown difference was what had paid my fares during the time I had not been strong enough to walk to and from work, and now it sometimes bought me a bowl of soup in Woolworth’s cafeteria when there was nothing left at home for me to take for lunch. My shorthand student, when I had one, paid me enough to cover my pair of rayon stockings every other week and the bits and pieces of clothing from the pawnbroker’s bargain table.

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