These Wartime Dreams by Rosie Meddon

Author:Rosie Meddon [Meddon, Rosie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-06-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

Pearl sighed with disappointment. When she’d come tramping in through the front door and down the stairs, she’d been hoping to find she had the room to herself – at least for an hour or so. Today, for some reason, her feet were killing her, coupled with which she had a headache pounding away like a blacksmith’s hammer. It had come on after her mid-shift break and had proceeded to grow steadily worse until, when it came to tallying her waybill, the pain had been so blinding she’d been unable to concentrate. Half an hour it had taken her to work out why her tickets didn’t tally with her cash. Even Kath, who, by her own admission, was painfully slow at tallying her waybill, had come and gone in less time. The only thing that had kept Pearl going was the prospect of sitting quietly with her feet in a bowl of Epsom salts dissolved in warm water. It was a remedy her sister, May, swore by as a cure for all manner of aches and pains, claiming the salty water ‘rid the body of impurities’. Sadly, with Ivy already home, peace and quiet was the last thing she was going to get.

‘Are you going out?’ she looked across at Ivy to enquire, more from hope than expectation as she closed the door behind her. To make matters worse, it was plain that Ivy had been smoking without opening the window, even though she knew it irked Pearl. With a huff, she strode across the room and wrestled with the sash.

‘You should ask Old Mother Trude to get that seen to,’ Ivy remarked of the window, her tone devoid of regret for not having struggled with it herself.

‘I have. Many times.’ Gritting her teeth in frustration, Pearl glanced to where, seated on her bed, Ivy was darning a hole in the sleeve of a sweater.

‘I’ve not the least idea how I came to catch this. Still, once I start earning proper money, I’ll be able to get a new one, won’t I. Gordon knows theatre seamstresses—’ Pearl shot Ivy a glance; she was already calling the man Gordon? ‘—who make clothing on the side, you know, no coupons required. Said he’ll put me in touch. All hush-hush, of course.’

Unbuttoning the jacket of her uniform, Pearl shook her head in dismay. She didn’t know which surprised her the least: that Ivy was already using Gordon Gold to get what she wanted – in this case, clothing made on the sly – or that she was on first name terms with him. Had he been her agent, Pearl was certain she would still be calling him Mr Gold, even if he’d suggested otherwise.

Realising Ivy hadn’t answered her question, she put it to her again. ‘You still haven’t told me whether you’re going out tonight.’

Hunched over her darning, Ivy shrugged. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. Why? You after bringing a feller back?’

Pearl stepped out of her trousers. ‘No, Ivy,’ she replied. With the way her head was pounding, it was taking every ounce of her control not to snap at the woman.

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