Home Front Girls

a suitable replacement – and Mr Bradley more than fitted the bill. As far as she was aware, he had never been married, although she couldn’t understand how he’d managed to escape the net. Nearing sixty, he was still a fine figure of a man, and seeing as she wasn’t far behind him in age, her chances of finding a new husband were narrowing significantly, although she prided herself on being as smart as a new pin. Unfortunately, up to now, all her best attempts at flirtation had come to nothing, and each time this happened she tended to take her frustrations out on the shop girls – as she was doing now with young Dorothy.
    As well as being Mr Bradley’s assistant, Mrs Broadstairs was also responsible for deciding which girls would work in which departments, especially the new employees. It was a task at which she excelled. Usually she could tell within minutes which department a particular girl would be best suited to. Not that it always worked out as she would have liked any more. Now that they were so short-staffed, the girls had to go where they were most needed for much of the time.
    The girl was fumbling in her haste to tidy the counter and after tutting, Mrs Broadstairs swept away.
    Dotty, as she was known, sighed with relief. This was only her second month at Owen Owen and she was still doing her best to fit in. It was her first job and although there was an element of excitement in working for a living, it was still all rather strange too. Dotty had had a lot of adjusting to do over the last few months. She had been dumped in an orphanage on the other side of the city by her mother when she was a very new baby, and had stayed there until just before her eighteenth birthday. Her welfare worker had then found her lodgings in King Edward Road in Hillfields, and had also helped her to get this job so that she could become independent and pay her own way.
    Dotty could clearly remember how excited she had been when her welfare worker had told her about the room, but when she took her along to see it, Dotty’s first glimpse had been somewhat of a disappointment, to say the very least. It was an attic room situated in a large Victorian terraced house that had been divided into three floors, and it was barely big enough to swing a cat around in, consisting of a small bedsitting room and a kitchenette that housed a sink and two grimy gas-rings. A grubby settee pulled out to make into a bed at night with the addition of pillows and an eider-down, but then she had consoled herself; at least the place would be all hers and she wouldn’t have to share it with anyone, which was a first for Dotty. To get to the attic meant a long climb up a number of steep stairs. The bathroom, which was shared by all the residents, was on the second floor, but after one glance inside, Dotty knew that she would rather die than ever use it. She would make do with a good strip wash each night and then visit the public baths once a week.
    Dotty had always shared a dormitory with other girls and she had become used to keeping herself to herself, so she’d decided that she would look at ‘going it alone’ as an adventure. The only person she had ever been remotely close to was Miss Timms, a gentle woman who had worked at the orphanage for as long as Dotty could remember. Miss Timms had been a great favourite there, especially with the younger children, for she would read to them at bedtime and sit them on her lap and rock them when they were feeling unwell. In actual fact, Dotty realised that Miss Timms was the only person she would really miss, although the woman had promised to visit her often, which had made the parting bearable. And the fact that the room was so rundown would give her something to do each night after work, Dotty told herself. She would buy some paint and brighten it up no end, and it was quite exciting to think that she could choose any colour she wanted – if she could get hold of the paint, that was. Everything was suddenly in short supply since the war had broken out.
    The next big step had been when Miss Wood, the welfare worker, had taken her along for an interview at Owen Owen. Dotty had been quaking in her shoes and sure that she would never get the job in such a posh department store. All the other shop girls they passed on the way to the office looked so pretty and so smart that she didn’t think she stood a chance. But much to her amazement she had got the job, although she did wonder if it was