Read Online Dolly's War by Dorothy Scannell - Free Book Online Page B

little grey hat the same colour as the blouse. They really were clever those Jewish hat-designers, for not having a ‘hat-face’ I had never possessed a hat which looked even passable, but this one really did do something for me. Enhancement was too mild a word for this miracle, and the grey with the purple suited my auburn colouring. I knew I looked really stunning for on my arrival at the church my fashion-plate sister, Amy, eyed me up and down and announced, ‘The suit’s too small for you, Dolly, but I will buy it from you.’ In a warm sisterly mood I said, half-believing that my figure ‘showed’ too much, ‘Thanks, I’ll let you have it,’ which I did, but with her dark skin somehow it never really looked anything again but an ordinary suit. But it was my own fault for not believing the rest of the family when they said, ‘Dolly, you look marvellous.’
    The reception was held in the Institute of All Saints Church and we had dancing and games and Marjorie’s wedding was voted ‘the wedding’ of the family. Certainly I enjoyed it much better than any of the other weddings we had had, including my own. Secretly I wished Marjorie a smoother honeymoon than I had experienced and she came back brown and happy but confided in me that her honeymoon night was a little frightening for she thought she had been ‘wounded’ and her panic scared her bridegroom so much he lit his pipe to try to keep calm, but somehow got the bowl of the pipe upside down and set fire to the bedroom carpet.
    Since the disaster of my own honeymoon we had decided that birth control was not for us, we were not clever enough to manage this scientific non-arrival paraphernalia, and had philosophically decided to let nature take its course. Well nature had decided to laugh at us for no babies wanted to be parented by Chas and Dorothy. I was a little miserable about this for I began to look at all the lovely babies in their prams and wonder what ours would be like if ever we were fortunate enough to manage such a miracle. At the same time I felt that I wouldn’t like my baby’s father to be a waiter and work for such long and arduous hours. I tackled Chas about this and he said of course he would like another job, but was terrified of being unemployed and in any case jobs were still difficult to obtain in the late 1930s. I thought he had no adventure in his soul and although I nagged him about it constantly it did no good. Therefore I began to scheme for the future, and decided if jobs were scarce in shipping, for which Chas had the necessary qualifications, I must think further afield for another ‘respectable’ job. One evening the Prudential agent called with the District Manager canvassing for business and I enquired as to the prospects of an agent’s position. ‘Oh,’ said the District Manager, looking at Chas’s occupation on the new endowment form, ‘waiter’. ‘Our agents have to have a good education, a smart appearance, be clever with figures, and be able to sell insurance and advise people about savings.’ Because he had touched my pride on the raw, over-sensitive I assumed that a waiter was not considered a man of education. I wrote to the Prudential, in my best handwriting, and signed the letter ‘Charles W. Scannell’. I said nothing to Chas for I knew it would worry him, and then THE FORMS came. I filled them in with beautiful printing and writing, telling a few white lies as to education and I believe I made him a supervisor at his restaurant. A week later came an epistle inviting Chas to an interview and a written examination. If he was accepted, then a stringent medical examination would follow.
    I wandered about all the evening searching for suitable words with which to break the news to my darling, but when he came in I blurted it all out. He was horrified at what I had done, he made me feel I had forged Bank of England