gladly. ‘I would have liked to have been a seamstress or a tailoress but I just didn’t get the opportunity.’
He’d nodded. ‘Not many people do get what they want out of life. I’d have liked to have been a qualified engineer but I had to leave school as my mother needed the money. I’d like to see the finished garments, if you don’t mind, and there won’t be a problem about using the machine in your break,’ he added. If they were good he would see about having her transferred to the cutting room. Conditions were better and so was the pay and he liked her. She was quieter than most of the girls, pleasant and a good worker.
‘Of course. I’ll be pleased to show you them,’ she’d replied.
When Sophie reached Dodd’s corner shop she didn’t stop to chat, she just waved to Maggie who was sweeping the floor, the rush of the day now over. Thanks to Mr Phillips the dresses were coming along well. Maria had got the materials– she’d even managed to get a bit of a discount too – and she and Katie had worked hard, pinning and tacking. Sophie had done the cutting out herself and after a few mishaps Katie had soon mastered the tacking.
Aunty Lizzie had been astonished by their expertise, especially by that of Katie who she declared had never threaded a needle in her life before, and she kept up a constant stream of conversation while they worked. Sophie smiled to herself. Maria said it would give you a headache listening to her, but Maria didn’t have to work all day in the sewing room at Marsden’s, that really
did
give you a headache.
Her reverie was interrupted by shouts and laughter and she caught sight of a group of children, who appeared to be dragging a large piece of wood towards the bombsite where she could dimly make out a growing pile of other rubbish. She frowned. If Billy and Bella and Emily Taylor were amongst them she’d certainly have something to say to all of them – and Aunty Lizzie as well. They shouldn’t be still out at this time and they’d be filthy dirty too.
She turned off the pavement and quickened her steps, peering into the gloom, trying to see if Bella was with them, and so didn’t see the small pile of blackened bricks until she tripped over them. She fell sprawling, dropping both her bag and the parcel and uttering a cry of pain.
‘Oh, damn!’ she exclaimed, realising she’d grazed both her shins and her hands.
‘Are you all right? That was quite a fall. Here, let me help you up.’
Sophie looked up into a pair of brown eyes that were full of concern and then a strong arm was around her, helping her to her feet. ‘Thank you. I’m fine, just a few grazes I think.’
He retrieved her bag and the parcel as she examined her ruined stockings and tried to brush some of the dirt from her coat.
‘You’re Frank Ryan, aren’t you? Aunty Lizzie pointed you out to me.’
He nodded and smiled at her. ‘That’s me, the neighborhood pariah, and you’re Sophie Teare. I’ve seen you a few times going in and out of Lizzie’s. You’re sure you aren’t hurt?’
She smiled back at him. You couldn’t help but like him, she thought. He was tall and quite well built with dark auburn hair, brown eyes and pleasant features. In fact she thought he was quite handsome. ‘No, I’m just a bit shaken up. I saw those kids and wanted to see if Bella and her friend Emily Taylor were with them and I tripped over some bricks.’
‘Lucky I was only a few steps behind you then.’ He looked across to where the little group was now adding the wood to the pile. ‘They’re building a bonfire for Guy Fawkes’ Night.’
‘Is that what they’re at,’ she replied as they both walked back towards the road. He’d handed back her bag but he was carrying the parcel.
‘We always had a big bonfire in our street and fireworks on November fifth, before the war. Us lads spent weeksbegging and . . . er . . . “purloining” stuff to build it.’ He smiled ruefully, remembering his
He’d nodded. ‘Not many people do get what they want out of life. I’d have liked to have been a qualified engineer but I had to leave school as my mother needed the money. I’d like to see the finished garments, if you don’t mind, and there won’t be a problem about using the machine in your break,’ he added. If they were good he would see about having her transferred to the cutting room. Conditions were better and so was the pay and he liked her. She was quieter than most of the girls, pleasant and a good worker.
‘Of course. I’ll be pleased to show you them,’ she’d replied.
When Sophie reached Dodd’s corner shop she didn’t stop to chat, she just waved to Maggie who was sweeping the floor, the rush of the day now over. Thanks to Mr Phillips the dresses were coming along well. Maria had got the materials– she’d even managed to get a bit of a discount too – and she and Katie had worked hard, pinning and tacking. Sophie had done the cutting out herself and after a few mishaps Katie had soon mastered the tacking.
Aunty Lizzie had been astonished by their expertise, especially by that of Katie who she declared had never threaded a needle in her life before, and she kept up a constant stream of conversation while they worked. Sophie smiled to herself. Maria said it would give you a headache listening to her, but Maria didn’t have to work all day in the sewing room at Marsden’s, that really
did
give you a headache.
Her reverie was interrupted by shouts and laughter and she caught sight of a group of children, who appeared to be dragging a large piece of wood towards the bombsite where she could dimly make out a growing pile of other rubbish. She frowned. If Billy and Bella and Emily Taylor were amongst them she’d certainly have something to say to all of them – and Aunty Lizzie as well. They shouldn’t be still out at this time and they’d be filthy dirty too.
She turned off the pavement and quickened her steps, peering into the gloom, trying to see if Bella was with them, and so didn’t see the small pile of blackened bricks until she tripped over them. She fell sprawling, dropping both her bag and the parcel and uttering a cry of pain.
‘Oh, damn!’ she exclaimed, realising she’d grazed both her shins and her hands.
‘Are you all right? That was quite a fall. Here, let me help you up.’
Sophie looked up into a pair of brown eyes that were full of concern and then a strong arm was around her, helping her to her feet. ‘Thank you. I’m fine, just a few grazes I think.’
He retrieved her bag and the parcel as she examined her ruined stockings and tried to brush some of the dirt from her coat.
‘You’re Frank Ryan, aren’t you? Aunty Lizzie pointed you out to me.’
He nodded and smiled at her. ‘That’s me, the neighborhood pariah, and you’re Sophie Teare. I’ve seen you a few times going in and out of Lizzie’s. You’re sure you aren’t hurt?’
She smiled back at him. You couldn’t help but like him, she thought. He was tall and quite well built with dark auburn hair, brown eyes and pleasant features. In fact she thought he was quite handsome. ‘No, I’m just a bit shaken up. I saw those kids and wanted to see if Bella and her friend Emily Taylor were with them and I tripped over some bricks.’
‘Lucky I was only a few steps behind you then.’ He looked across to where the little group was now adding the wood to the pile. ‘They’re building a bonfire for Guy Fawkes’ Night.’
‘Is that what they’re at,’ she replied as they both walked back towards the road. He’d handed back her bag but he was carrying the parcel.
‘We always had a big bonfire in our street and fireworks on November fifth, before the war. Us lads spent weeksbegging and . . . er . . . “purloining” stuff to build it.’ He smiled ruefully, remembering his
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