Danny turned to the corner cupboard. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve got a secret stash of it in here. What’s the point of working on the docks if you can’t sweeten your tea now and again?’ He passed it across. ‘Just don’t make a habit of it, all right – it might have to last for the rest of the war, however long that’ll be. My contacts aren’t what they were, not since the fire.’ He smiled ruefully.
‘Don’t worry, this is a treat,’ said Sarah, stirring the precious sugar into her drink. ‘I’m not encouraging you to go on the black market, Danny. Not like that Mrs Kennedy, we all know what used to go on in her shop.’
‘Used to?’
Sarah looked up at him, registering how pale he looked, his face white in contrast to his dark wavy hair. ‘You haven’t been in there recently, then? It’s driving Rita mad. Winnie’s hardly ever behind the counter, Rita’s left to open up and shut the shop, and it’s hardly making any money any more. She never has a moment to think straight, let alone visit the children. I think missing Michael and Megan is making it worse.’
‘But they’re happy on the farm, aren’t they?’ asked Danny. ‘Our Tommy’s having the time of his life. Or so I gather from his letters. His handwriting isn’t the greatest, but he goes on and on about the animals, they’re turning him into a right farmer. At least he’s making himself useful digging for victory. He loves it, so I bet the others do too.’
‘It’s not that so much as being apart from them,’ said Sarah. ‘Honestly, Danny, they’re all fine. Rita showed me one of Michael’s letters – they couldn’t be in a better place. But she misses them like mad, even though she knows they’re safer there than just about anywhere.’
‘Can’t she go and see them?’ asked Danny, then cursed himself for his own stupidity. What had Sarah just told him? The shop wasn’t making money and Rita had hardly any spare time. Of course she couldn’t just up sticks and catch a bus out to the country – always supposing there were buses running anyway.
Sarah shrugged. ‘You know it’s not that easy. Pop would take her in his cart but he’s never home either – he’s on ARP duty all the time. When he isn’t, he’s sleeping off the night shifts. You know how it is.’
Danny nodded. He remembered all too well the effects of working night shifts. Your brain didn’t feel as if it was your own. Then the idea struck him.
‘Why don’t I take her?’
‘Well, I’m sure it would be a lovely thing to do but …’ she began.
‘No buts,’ said Danny, suddenly seeing that this was the ideal solution. ‘Come on, Sar, it’ll be doing me a favour. I get to leave the house, but I’ll be sitting down the whole time so won’t need to worry about me ticker – while Rita gets an escort to see the kids. I get to see Tommy, check he hasn’t run too wild. Everyone wins.’ He stood up.
‘Danny, what are you doing?’ Sarah set down her mug.
‘Well, you just said they’re all there. We’ll go and tell them now. No time like the present.’ And before she could stop him, Danny headed out of the door, a new spring in his step.
‘Now are you sure you’ll be all right?’ Rita was torn between wanting to get going as soon as possible and anxiety that her sister-in-law wouldn’t be able to manage. She hastily buttoned her coat against the chilly spring breeze blowing through the open shop door.
‘Of course!’ Violet assured her. ‘Don’t even give it a thought, I’ll be absolutely fine. What can go wrong? You get off and see those children. There’s Danny now with the cart. Go on, stop mithering, I’ll see you later.’ She all but pushed Rita out of the door.
Rita hopped up on the cart beside Danny, tucking a loose strand of red hair behind her ear. ‘If there are any problems just make a note and I’ll sort everything out later,’ she called. She waved as Danny lifted the reins and the horse began the steady clip-clop that would take her to her beloved children.
Violet waved back cheerfully but gave a sigh of relief as she shut the shop door. She was sure that she could cope, but somehow not having Rita around made her feel more worried than she expected. She glanced around the place. Rita had dealt with the early morning rush, when the dock workers came in to get their newspapers, cigarettes and other essentials, and now everything was quiet. This was when Winnie would normally take over, but she’d gone back to her bed in a huff once she learnt that Violet had been drafted in to help, muttering what were most probably insults as she retreated up the stairs. Violet could have sworn the older woman had been unsteady on her feet, her eyes red, but she wasn’t going to dwell on it. She’d rather face a day in the shop on her own than share the cramped space with Winnie, who in their short acquaintance had been nothing but unpleasant. Still, she wasn’t going to let that upset her; according to Rita and Dolly, the miserable old bag was like that to everyone.
Violet decided the shelves could do with a clean. Poor Rita, she must never have the time to do it, so this would be something she’d appreciate. Violet wasn’t scared of hard work and elbow grease and she soon had the surfaces gleaming. Beaming, she looked around in satisfaction. That was a big improvement. Working in a shop was a doddle, she decided, as she put her duster behind the counter and smoothed down the front of her printed overall. Rita had been fussing about nothing.
No sooner had she settled herself on the stool behind the counter than the bell rang and a plump figure in a plaid headscarf came in. Violet recognised Mrs Mawdsley, a friend of Dolly’s from the WVS. She was a bit of a dragon when you first met her but nice underneath.
‘Oh, it’s you, dear!’ Mrs Mawdsley peered short-sightedly over her round glasses. ‘I didn’t expect to see you here. Has there been an emergency? I do hope everyone’s all right …’
‘Nothing to worry about, Mrs Mawdsley,’ Violet said hurriedly, cutting off her customer before she could work herself into a tizz. ‘Rita’s gone to see her children for the day and so I’m standing in. How can I help you?’
The older woman undid her scarf and came closer. ‘Well, that’s very good of you, dear. That’s what families are for, though, isn’t it? I won’t keep you for long. I’m looking for some clothes pegs.’
Violet smiled in relief. ‘Well, you won’t need ration coupons for those.’ She’d been slightly confused by Rita’s explanation of which goods were rationed and which weren’t, and how the system worked, but this request should be simple enough. ‘Household goods are on these shelves here – but I expect you know that better than I do.’
Mrs Mawdsley beamed at the suggestion she knew her way around the shop better than the staff. ‘I do indeed, dear. Oh, someone’s made this look nice. Was that you? Dolly’s always saying what an asset you are around the house, and I expect Mrs Kennedy will be delighted.’
Violet smiled back but said nothing. She doubted Winnie would be delighted about anything.
‘Here we are, then. I’ll have two sets, a small and a large, just in case.’ The woman fiddled with her purse. ‘Now, I’m afraid I have no change, but I hope that won’t be a problem.’
‘Of course not.’ Violet held out her hand and Mrs Mawdsley gave her half a crown. Violet’s smile began to falter. Mental arithmetic was not her strong point. It was bad enough that there were two things to add up, but they were at different prices, and that made it more difficult. She looked around for a notebook. Maybe if she wrote it down it would be easier.
The doorbell rang again. A frail old lady stepped inside, drawing