‘A rich uncle or father perhaps,’ Fred said. ‘It’s a good sales ploy, Beth, and it has certainly drawn an audience…’
The free vases were just one of the special offers; men’s suits were offered with a free shirt and collar; ties were given free with a spend of more than twenty pounds.
‘Gosh…’ Beth drew a wondering breath. ‘I think we must be the only department that doesn’t have any special offers…’
‘It’s because you’re always busy anyway,’ Fred said. ‘Besides, we’ve got a week of these special windows, so yours may be another day…’
Beth nodded and smiled as she noticed that a small queue had formed at the front of the shop. Free offers and special reductions had brought a surge of extra custom, but would it tail off as soon as the offers were over?
It was a quarter past nine when Beth realised that Marion Kaye probably wasn’t coming in that day, because she was very late and, normally, she was no more than a minute or so, if that, and she tried hard not to be late these days. As soon as Mrs Craven made her tour of the floor, Beth asked her if she’d heard from her junior salesgirl.
‘No, not as yet,’ Rachel Craven replied with a frown. ‘It would not be easy for her to let us know if she was going to be late – but usually a relative can either telephone or call from a box if someone is sick…’
‘I know she has difficulty at home,’ Beth said. ‘We haven’t been rushed off our feet this morning, so we shall manage quite well – but if we did have a surge of customers, it would make things difficult at break time.’
‘The ground floor and the men’s department are where all the customers are this morning,’ Rachel told her with a smile. ‘I even gave the girls on the china and glass department a hand with wrapping a large gift. A gentleman has purchased a set of crystal wine, sherry, whisky, port, brandy, liqueur and water glasses, three crystal decanters, also a leaded crystal fruit bowl and a set of desert dishes and triumphantly carried off his two matching vases for spending sixty pounds.’
‘Goodness me!’ Beth cried astonished. ‘He must be wealthy to spend so much on glassware…’
‘He said it was a wedding present for his daughter – and he particularly wanted the vases for himself. He has been debating whether or not to buy a pair before this and he couldn’t believe his luck that he got them for nothing…’
‘I suppose it is worth it to turn so much stock over,’ Beth said, ‘but it seems extravagant to give so much away…’
‘Apparently, Mrs Harper thought it would bring customers in and Mr Harper said it is often done in America…’
‘Yes, she mentioned something of the kind to me,’ Beth said. ‘But more than fifteen pounds is a lot of money to give away…’
‘I suppose they didn’t cost that much and they were not selling…’ Rachel shrugged. The vases would have cost half that much wholesale and it still left Harpers a small profit on the glassware sold. ‘I must get on, Mrs Burrows. I understand the men’s department is rather busy just now…’
Beth watched her leave and then a few customers came in and started looking round. One of them asked what was reduced and Beth told her that they had no reductions at the moment. She made a face of disgust and left, as if she considered she’d been cheated, but a gentleman asked to see a selection of leather bags. He bought two, one for his wife and another one for his sister. Beth took his money and gift-wrapped the bags for him. It was only her second sale of the morning and again she wondered at the wisdom of these bargains, though, of course, Mr Harper had wanted to make a bit of a splash for the second anniversary of their opening – and it wasn’t Beth’s place to decide.
Sally came down to the department later in the day. She asked how trade was going and Beth told her it had been slower than usual.
‘I suppose that was to be expected because of the increased trade elsewhere,’ Sally said, frowning. She rubbed at her forehead and sighed. ‘Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea, but it did shift those vases and I’ve already replaced the crystal and china we sold, at least I’ve reordered. I thought a free gift was better than a reduction…’
‘Mrs Craven said it worked very well on the ground floor,’ Beth said and looked at her anxiously as Sally put a hand to her back. ‘Are you well, Mrs Harper?’
‘Yes, just a little backache,’ Sally said and smiled. ‘I’ll just have to put up with it – and my doctor says I shouldn’t sit about…’
‘Oh, they tell you all sorts of things these days,’ Beth said. ‘Women were told to relax and rest for weeks before birth once. I think some of them turned into invalids… some of them still do…’
‘Well, I have no intention of fading into the wallpaper and I shall work until I’m forced to give up,’ Sally said and laughed. ‘Ben is taking me to the theatre this evening. I’ve been wanting to see Pygmalion for ages…’
‘Oh, lovely. I hear Mrs Patrick Campbell is wonderful…’
‘The critics are calling it a triumph, though I understand some of the language is a little bit salty…’
Beth laughed. The paper had reported one of Eliza Doolittle’s remarks as stars and an exclamation mark, but everyone knew what it meant, and the word was making the rounds of smart society with a lot of winks and nods.
‘You should get Jack to take you,’ Sally suggested. ‘You’ll need to queue for tickets, unless you book ahead, but I’m sure it will be worth it…’
Beth smiled and agreed, but she didn’t have time to queue up for tickets, and even if she had, she would most likely end up going with Fred or a girlfriend, because Jack didn’t have time to take her to the theatre. Besides, on his rare nights off they liked to go dancing or to a good meal out. Beth considered herself lucky, because many of the girls she’d known at school were married to men who went no further than their local pub. At least Jack took her somewhere nice when he did have a night off.
4
Marion was woken before it was light by Kathy shaking her; she grumbled as she struggled to open her eyes and ask what was wrong.
‘Milly’s awful bad,’ Kathy told her as she sat up and looked at her. ‘She has been sick three times and I can’t wake Ma…’
Marion was out of bed in a trice and hurried into the room next door where Kathy and six-year-old Milly slept. The two boys were still sleeping in their room and she was glad because Robbie would have to leave for work soon after six-thirty and Dickon had exams at school that day. Dickon was the bright one of the family and Marion hoped he would stay on at school and be something more than a manual worker one day. She would do what little she could to make sure it happened.
Milly was grizzling and feeling very sorry for herself. Marion frowned as she questioned whether her sister had pain in her tummy or her head, but she simply shook her head and knuckled her eyes.
‘Feel bad,’ she complained and was promptly sick again on the floor.
Behind Marion, Kathy gave a wail of despair. ‘I’ve cleared up after her twice,’ she said. ‘I’ve got cookery class today, Marion, and they’re going to show us how to make sweet pickle. I really want to learn how to do it…’
‘Mum should look after her, so you can go…’ Marion