‘Such a shame, he should have been patched as a child,’ Dora told Ivy Bulpitt. The two had become fast friends since Les and Beryl’s wedding, and Ivy ‘popped in’ almost as much as Beryl did, usually with Susan in tow.
Ivy tutted and graciously allowed Dora’s hovering knife to cut her another piece of Swiss roll. Thanks to the hens, there was usually something in the cake tin in the Collinses’ household, even with sugar on ration.
‘Just a small one. Got to watch my figure!’ Since Ivy was the size and shape of a barrage balloon, the damage had been done, but Dora cut her the generous slice she knew would be expected. ‘Still, I daresay his mum’ll be relieved. He’s her only one, isn’t he?’
‘Yes.’ Dora passed Ivy’s plate back. ‘They say you worry about a single one more, but I find you just worry about them all equally, in different ways.’
‘You’re not wrong there,’ mused Ivy, contemplating her plate with satisfaction. ‘Still, Jim having to stick around is good news for you, Dora. He’ll still be here to dig your veg bed and do the hens.’
‘That’s true. And bless him, now he’s had the chance to take it in, he’s trying to turn it into a funny story. He said he wasn’t doing too badly in the tests with his right eye, but with his left – never mind the chart, they could have held up a couple of dustbin lids and he couldn’t have seen them!’
‘Bless him, he’s a good lad.’ Ivy plucked a crumb off her sizeable bosom and popped it in her mouth. ‘And it won’t affect his job at Marlow’s?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. He’s been managing on his good eye all these years, school, work and everything. You can, can’t you? If you close one eye and look around.’
Ivy tried it, screwing up her puddingy face in the process.
‘I see what you mean. Doesn’t make a blind bit of difference.’
She burst out laughing at her unintentional joke, and Susan, poring over a picture book, looked up and smiled her innocent smile. Ivy got up to wipe a skein of dribble spooling from her daughter’s mouth.
‘A bit more cake, Susan, love?’ asked Dora kindly. ‘Then you can help me wind some wool, can’t you?’
Jim might have tried to turn his disappointment into a joke against himself in front of most people, but ten days on from his medical, deep down he seemed depressed. He’d been delighted to hear about Lily’s promotion, and Gladys’s, of course, genuinely delighted, but in private, with Lily, he was still so low in himself that he’d managed to convince himself that his job at Marlow’s was under threat.
Lily had never seen him like this before, and it unsettled her. But then she’d never suffered a setback like his. Perhaps Jim was entitled to be fed up.
‘I’ve seen more meat on a butcher’s pencil than on this plate,’ he observed glumly, prodding at his food in the staff canteen. ‘And you need a pneumatic drill for these potatoes.’
‘Oh come on,’ Lily tried to rally him. ‘Just because you were looking forward to getting fat on Army rations!’
It was as if he hadn’t heard her.
‘Still, I might not be eating here much longer.’
Lily laid down her knife and fork.
‘Not that again! For the last time, Mr Marlow is not, not now, not ever, going to get rid of you – you of all people!’
What Lily knew, and no one else did, was that Jim was related through marriage to the Marlows: his mother’s sister had been married to Cedric Marlow. She’d died young giving birth to their son Robert, and the two sides of the family hadn’t been in contact till Jim had come to work at the store. But having Cedric as his uncle surely meant his position had to be secure?
Jim knew what she was driving at, but he didn’t agree.
‘Lily, you’ve got eyes in your head – better eyes than mine. There are six girls leaving – seven if you count Beryl. They’ve managed a neat trick shuffling you and Gladys about, but are any of the others being replaced? No.’
‘That doesn’t mean they’re going to give anyone else the chop – far from it!’
Jim shook his head.
‘Marlow’s can’t afford to carry extra members of staff, whoever they are. Margins are tight, profits are down. And why’s Simmonds been appointed? To be a new broom, right? Well, they sweep in corners. And there’s no dustier corners than in Furniture and Household. You know we’ve got hardly anything to sell!’
‘Who has? That applies to every department. And every shop in Hinton!’
‘Maybe,’ said Jim, ‘but I’ve seen the way Simmonds has been looking at me lately. He’s watching me all the time.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! He looks at everyone, it’s his job!’
‘Hm. With that same shark-eyed stare?’
‘Shark? You’ve seen too many newsreels about the Nazis, you really have!’
But Jim wouldn’t be told.
‘He’s got to get rid of someone from our department,’ he reasoned. ‘There’s a limit to how long Marlow’s can still employ all five of us. I had a woman in this morning asking when we’d have lead crystal dressing table sets again. I felt like telling her a crystal ball would be more use.’
‘Fine. Get one. And what future do you see for yourself if not here? Another job? Where? And doing what exactly?’
‘Well, good question.’ Jim pushed his plate away, unfinished – unheard of. ‘I’m considering lots of options, actually.’
‘Are you?’ There was something in his tone, and Lily pushed her plate away too. It was one thing to dismiss his suspicions about Mr Simmonds, but this sounded serious.
Jim looked at his watch.
‘I should go. I’m due back soon.’
‘Jim!’ protested Lily. ‘You can’t leave it like that! Aren’t you going to tell me what these options are?’
‘Not till I’ve narrowed them down a bit.’
Lily made a conscious effort to stay calm. ‘Let me narrow them down for you. You stay here and get promotion after promotion till you take over from Mr Marlow.’
‘Hang on!’ Jim looked into the distance and pretended to shade his eyes against an imaginary sun. ‘What’s that I see? Oh yes. A flying pig.’
‘Well, why not?’ protested Lily. ‘His son’s not interested, and he’s got to hand it on to someone.’
‘Well, that’s a nice little fantasy.’ Jim tipped back on his chair. ‘You carry on with it. Maybe in your world, Lily, we’re not even at war – men, women, children dying every day while I’m telling our customers why we haven’t got any tray cloths.’
Like a round of mortar fire his words hit home. Suddenly, with horrible clarity, she knew. Idiot that she was! Why hadn’t she realised Jim wasn’t the sort to take ‘no’ for an answer?
‘You’re going to re-apply, aren’t you, to the Army? Tell them you want a desk job.’
‘Well, there’s enough of them,’ Jim said reasonably. ‘Someone’s got to keep things going behind the scenes.’
‘Pen-pushing?’
‘It’s still a lot more useful than what I’m doing here. And they can’t say I’m not suitable for that!’
Lily swallowed hard.
‘But Jim … it could be … you could be sent anywhere!’