Home Front Girls

she had lost. War truly was a terrible thing.
     
    The girls decided to get some fresh air during their lunch break that day and wandered around the city centre, enjoying the feel of the warm May sunshine on their faces after the harsh winter they had just endured. They were now all allowed to serve the customers in their various departments and felt as if they had been working at Owen Owen forever.
    ‘I’m going to London again on Thursday,’ Dotty told them casually after a time and Annabelle winked at Lucy mischievously.
    ‘Oh, are you now?’ she teased. ‘And are you still writing to each other?’
    ‘Of course we are. How else are we supposed to discuss my work when I’m not on the phone?’ Dotty answered defensively. Every time they passed a newsagent’s she had to stop herself from rushing in and buying every copy of Woman’s Heart she could find. She doubted she would ever get over the thrill of seeing her name in print each month.
    ‘Well, I would have thought it would be just a matter of posting them a story off each month and waiting for the cheque to arrive. But never mind about that – what are you going to wear? You can’t wear the same outfit again.’
    ‘Mm, I hadn’t thought of that.’ Her London outfit, as she now thought of it, was the only decent one Dotty owned, but Annabelle did have a point. The trouble was, there wasn’t much choice in the shops any more.
    ‘You could always borrow one of my blouses and wear it with your suit skirt,’ Annabelle offered. ‘At least it would give it a different look. What about the blue one with the Peter Pan collar that you like? You could wear my string of pearls to go with it too.’
    ‘I think I’d be too afraid of losing them,’ Dotty answered. ‘But I will take you up on the offer of the blouse, if you’re sure you don’t mind?’
    ‘I wouldn’t have offered if I did, would I?’ Annabelle said in her usual forthright way. They were at the steps of St Michael’s Cathedral by then, and on the spur of the moment Lucy suggested, ‘Why don’t we go in and light a candle and say a prayer for all the people who we’re missing?’
    Annabelle shrugged but followed the other two into the enormous cathedral just the same. After stepping out of the bright sunshine the interior was gloomy and they all blinked as their eyes adjusted to the light, but then the cathedral worked its magic on them and they all stared up in awe at the beautiful stained-glass windows. Dotty and Lucy had visited the cathedral many times, and it never failed to move them. It was so peaceful within that it was hard to believe that even as they stood there, men and women were fighting to save their country and magnificent buildings like this. Even Annabelle was silenced for a time. Eventually they approached the altar, where they each took candles and lit them, then they sat on the hard wooden pews, bowed their heads and said silent prayers for the loved ones from whom they were parted.
    Strangely enough, they all felt a little happier and more optimistic as they made their way back to work.
     
    Lucy slumped onto the sofa when she got home from work. She was shattered and had just started to drop off when there was a tap on the door and she opened it to find Mr P standing on the step.
    ‘Oh, I was going to pop round when I’d had something to eat and—’ Her voice stopped abruptly as she noted Mr P’s red eyes. He looked as if he had been crying and was shuffling from foot to foot uncomfortably.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ A cold hand closed around her heart and she knew that she was going to hear bad news.
    ‘I er . . . I were wonderin’ if you’d come round an’ see the missus?’ he said miserably. ‘We’ve had bad news, see. A telegram.’
    ‘Oh no!’ Lucy’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Is – is it young Freddy?’
    He nodded. ‘They say he’s missin’, and I can’t do a thing wi’ our gel. Would yer come, love? I’d appreciate it. She thinks the world o’ you an’ yer might be able to stop her cryin’. I certainly bloody can’t.’
    ‘Of course I’ll come.’ Lucy ran back into the kitchen and turned the kettle off, and seconds later she was following Mr P across the shared yard to his back door.
    She found her neighbour sitting clutching the telegram with tears streaming down her face.
    ‘Look, love, young Lucy’s here,’ Fred told her, but for a while Mrs P didn’t even seem to hear him. She was locked away in her own little world