Home Front Girls

on, she realised with a little start that Mrs Cousins was the only person who had spoken to her all day, apart from Mrs Broadstairs when she was issuing her orders, of course, and the customers she had served.
    The flat was warm when she got back up to the top floor, which was something at least, so she turned the heat back on under the soup and sighed with pleasure as she kicked her boots off, sat down and stretched her feet out by the fire.
     
    ‘Now then, Miss Kent, there’s been a slight change of plan for today,’ Mrs Broadstairs informed her when she got into work the next morning. ‘One of the girls in the lingerie department is off sick, so I’ve told the floor manager that you may help out down there today. Do you think you can manage that?’ Personally, she had grave reservations about sending Dotty to that particular department. All the girls who worked there were so much more glamorous than her, and seemed to have so much more about them. But then desperate times called for desperate measures. The whole store had been operating on a skeleton staff since the out-break of war, and Dotty was the best she could manage. She certainly wasn’t going to send one of her more experienced girls. It wouldn’t do at all if sales were to be down on her own floor.
    ‘Yes, Mrs Broadstairs, I’ll be fine,’ Dotty assured her meekly.
    ‘Then run along, dear. We don’t want to upset the floor manager now, do we? Her name is Miss Norton. Just tell her I sent you.’
    Mrs Broadstairs then scurried away, leaving Dotty to turn and head for the stairs. The lingerie department was down on the next floor and she had often wondered what it would be like to work there. Admittedly, there was not the same wide selection of underwear and nightwear displayed as there had been before the war, but there were still the odd few extravagant items in pure silk. Dotty couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel to wear anything so expensive. The orphanage had always made sure that the children were adequately turned out, but their budget had not run to anything other than hardwearing materials, and the habits of a lifetime were hard to break. Dotty still tended to go for sensible shoes and clothes, partly because she had no fashion sense whatsoever. She hadn’t needed to be fashionable in the orphanage. She had just been one of many. Now as she entered the lingerie department she felt slightly out of her depth as she gazed about at the mannequins strategically placed to catch the customers’ eyes; a blush rose into her cheeks. It seemed strange to see such personal items displayed so blatantly, but then men rarely ventured into this particular department, which Dotty felt was just as well.
    Glass-topped counters were placed all along one wall. In one was a selection of cotton knickers – very serviceable and very much in demand since the outbreak of the war. Another counter contained brassières of various sizes and colours. There were nightdresses in flannelette and cotton, and pyjamas, dressing-gowns, and stockings, which were getting much harder to come by and ridiculously expensive.
    Along the opposite wall were the counters containing the more exclusive items in silks and satins, some trimmed with guipure lace. There was even an exquisite negligée set on display that got Dotty’s pulse racing, and she flushed at the thought of anyone daring to wear it. She was also terrified at the prospect of having to show it to anyone. It was so delicate that she was sure it would tear if she so much as blew on it. But thankfully, Miss Norton took one look at her and guided her to the other side of the room. Dotty seemed a nice, helpful enough sort of girl but she was hardly the sort to show off Miss Norton’s treasured exclusive lines.
    The day passed slowly and Dotty was glad when it was time to go home. No one in the lingerie department had bothered to talk to her even at break-time, and it was a relief to escape into the chilly early evening air. The streets felt eerie now that everyone had blackout curtains up at their windows. Even the display windows on the shopfronts no longer turned on their lights and Dotty imagined she could have been walking through a ghost town. She quickly found herself making up stories in her head as she moved along. It was something she had done for as far back as she could remember, and she was never happier than when she was writing her stories down. Writing went a long way towards easing