A Store at War. Joanna Toye

she planning on spending anything on herself.

      ‘Well, I hardly expect you to start off in Marlow’s! But I tell you what …’

      Lily’s ruse had worked. Beryl was clearly flattered to be asked, though it would have killed her to have shown it.

      ‘Woolies’ll still be open. We’ll go there.’

      Five minutes later, as the Woolworth’s sales assistants sighed and looked at their watches – they stayed open half an hour later than Marlow’s, but it was very nearly closing time – Beryl was demonstrating lipsticks.

      ‘If you’re serious, you ought to get in quick,’ she advised. ‘’Cos this is the next thing that’s going to disappear. So, I mean with your next wage packet.’

      She twirled a lipstick up from its case and displayed it.

      ‘Tangee Uniform lipstick,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t touch it, but for a baby like you, it’s just a hint of colour, see? First step up from Vaseline. Good for starters. But still looks natural.’

      Lily nodded, her eyes widening when she saw the price. The whole thing was impossible – but Beryl was so carried away with her own sense of importance and so enjoying imparting information that she didn’t notice.

      ‘Yes,’ she lamented. ‘They say Coty’s going over to making foot powder and anti-gas ointment, and the metal in lipstick cases and compacts has all got to go for shells. So much for keeping up morale, eh!’

      Lily tried to look as shocked and disgusted as Beryl about it, though privately, and despite her desperation to look older, it seemed to her a much better use of resources. The important thing was that Beryl believed she was genuinely interested in all this and was a willing disciple.

      ‘That was so kind of you, Beryl,’ she said as sincerely as she could when they stood outside again. Behind them the staff were covering the counters and bolting the doors. ‘Thanks so much for explaining it all. I’d never have known all that any other way.’

      Basking in the false flattery, Beryl preened, while Lily waited for a thunderbolt to strike her down.

      ‘So,’ she added oh-so-casually. ‘Which way do you walk home from here?’

      ‘I’m not going home,’ said Beryl. ‘I’m meeting Les. By the bandstand.’

      ‘Oh, I can cut through the park!’ said Lily, adding boldly, ‘Shall we …?’

      This was where Beryl would surely say she wasn’t being seen with a frump like Lily, and the plan would fall to bits, but to Lily’s amazement, Beryl hooked her arm through hers and gave her a grin.

      ‘Come on then, kid. At least there’s no swings, so you can’t embarrass me by wanting a go.’

      Like the park railings, they’d been taken away for armaments last summer.

      ‘It’ll be the blooming bandstand next,’ mourned Beryl. ‘I hate this war, don’t you?’

      Lily shrugged. ‘Yes, of course, but what choice do we have?’

      ‘I’m sick of it, no this, no that, nothing decent to buy that we can afford, rotten food, and not much of it, nothing nice or fun—’

      ‘You have fun with Les, don’t you? Going to the pictures and stuff.’

      Lily couldn’t believe how easy it had been to bring his name into the conversation.

      ‘Oh, Les!’

      ‘What about him?’

      ‘He’s all right, I suppose. I mean, he’ll do for now. Until someone better comes along.’

      ‘He’s got a good job at Marlow’s,’ started Lily, but Beryl looked at her with narrowed eyes.

      ‘A driver in Despatch? I hope I can do a bit better than that for myself. But at least he knows how to give a girl a good time. We don’t sit in the cheap seats at the cinema, I can tell you.’

      ‘The circle? How can he afford that?’

      Beryl gave her a sidelong look and another smile-cum-smirk.

      ‘You don’t have to stick with what Cedric Marlow pays you. If you know how to play the system.’

      Lily did her best to look both curious and impressed.

      ‘Beryl … How do you mean?’

      They’d reached the park now and her new confidante drew her down on to a bench. In front of them was what before the war had been a flowerbed full of salvias. Now it, and the grass around it, had been ploughed up for allotments.

      ‘All right,’ began Beryl. ‘I’m going to tell you something. There’s a bit of a racket going on with some of the wealthier customers. Those who’ve been used to snapping their fingers and having everything done for them.’

      There was admiration and bitterness in her voice.

      ‘Well, they don’t expect the war to change that. So to keep them happy, to keep the wheels turning so to speak, Les and some of the other drivers and sales people make it easier for them. Oil those wheels if you like. So they’ll do that bit extra.’

      Lily goggled obligingly as if this was the first time she’d heard all this. Beryl looked gratified.

      ‘Les has got to be careful, of course. All his mileage is logged, but if he organises his round carefully, and filches some petrol from the vans whose drivers aren’t in on it, or tops up with petrol from … well, that he’s got hold of … he can hide the odd bit of extra distance. With road blocks and the Home Guard doing their stuff, who’s to say if he’s had to go a bit out of his way?’

      ‘Very clever,’ said Lily acidly. Caught up in her story, Beryl didn’t notice.

      ‘People might have to wait a day or so to get their things, but they don’t mind that. And the other bit extra – the bit of money he gets from doing it – he’s taking a risk, after all – well, it all helps, doesn’t it?’

      ‘So hang on, you’re telling me certain customers can get stuff delivered that they shouldn’t?’

      ‘You’re quick, aren’t you? Of course, management mustn’t know. Well, with certain exceptions.’

      ‘Managers are involved?’

      ‘Why not? Everyone’s on the make, aren’t they, given the chance?’

      ‘I can’t believe it!’

      Now Lily genuinely was shocked. She could well believe the racket – it only confirmed what Jim had been told. But managers! When they were so trusted and, well, respectable – and earned, surely, a decent salary anyway? That really did amaze her.

      ‘Who?’ Lily sat forward. ‘Which managers exactly?’

      Beryl looked at her, long and hard. Lily could see the emotions fighting within her: self-importance and the satisfaction of imparting what she knew versus discretion. It wasn’t a long struggle. Beryl swooped towards her and whispered in her ear. Lily fell back as if she’d been thumped in the chest.

      ‘No!’

      ‘Oh, yes.’

      ‘Not really?’

      ‘Yes, really! Well, you said you wanted to learn, kid.’

      As Lily shook her head, still disbelieving, Beryl sat back herself, pleased with the effect she’d had. She examined her nails and found them pleasing too, even without the crimson nail polish she’d have preferred – forbidden of course for Marlow’s staff, who were only allowed clear – not that any was readily available now.

      ‘Well, there’s your first lesson,’ she pronounced. ‘Everything and everyone may not be quite what they seem.’