Opal Plumstead (44 page)

‘We had a wonderful day too,’ I said defiantly. I didn’t know I was fingering my opal necklace until I saw Mrs Roberts staring at it.

‘Did you wheedle that out of him too?’ she asked.

‘Morgan bought it for me, yes. I don’t . . . wheedle,’ I said, tears starting to roll down my cheeks. ‘Morgan
wanted
to buy it for me. He cares for me.’

‘Now let us get one thing straight, Opal Plumstead. My son has befriended you and behaved in a very foolish fashion. I dare say he is partly at fault. But you must realize that there is no chance whatsoever for the two of you to continue this unseemly friendship.’

‘Why is that?’

‘My dear girl, do I have to spell it out? Morgan is my son. He will own Fairy Glen one day – the factory, and indeed the house, and various other properties and land. He is a gentleman and has been educated accordingly. He will be going up to Oxford at the end of the summer to complete his education. He will enjoy a pleasant social life there amongst people of his own sort. I’m sure he’ll meet a suitable young lady and they’ll start a romantic friendship. He won’t dally any further with you, Opal. Surely you can see that.’

‘What is so dreadful about me? You were happy enough to take me under your wing. You
liked
me. You invited me to meetings, you took me back to your home, you gave me the job in design, you think my fairies are really special. If I’m good enough for you, why aren’t I good enough for your son?’ I cried.

‘I don’t make society’s rules, Opal,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘You’re simply not the right type of girl.’

‘You’ve always clamoured to change rules. You don’t think it’s fair that women are denied the vote, so you protested vehemently and even went to prison for your beliefs. But you’re still bound by stupid rules of class. You say you want Morgan to meet people of his own sort. Well,
I’m
his sort, whether you like it or not. We are soul mates!’

‘Stop shouting at me. I won’t have it. I am your employer, please remember that.’

‘Then I resign!’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Where would you go? What would you do? No one else would give you such leeway. I’ve tried my best to give you the job you deserve. I’m not petty enough to take it away from you now, despite everything. You will carry on here, and I dare say we will resume our old friendship in time – but you are not to have any further communication with my son. He understands that now, and you must too. Now go away and wash your face, and then carry on with your work.’

He understands that now!
Oh Lord, did Morgan really want nothing more to do with me? I
had
to see him! This was our summer month. I’d banked on seeing him every weekend. We didn’t have to go on expensive outings. I didn’t want any more presents. I simply wanted to be with him. I
would
be with him! Mrs Roberts couldn’t lock us up. We would show her. Nothing could keep us apart.

I thought Morgan himself might be waiting on the doorstep at home at the end of that terrible day, but he wasn’t there. He hadn’t sent a letter, though I quizzed Mother anxiously about it.

‘There hasn’t been any wretched letter,’ she protested. ‘I dare say the post office is shut. We’re on the brink of war, you stupid girl. The banks are still closed and the shops have hardly any food left because folk are all hoarding. I don’t know what we’re going to do, how we’re going to manage, and all you care about is a letter!’

It
was
all I cared about then. It wasn’t even too terrible a shock to go to work on Wednesday and see all the newspaper placards, hear the folk chattering in the street. War had been declared against Germany late last night. I was too concerned with my own personal war.

I wrote to Morgan that night, a long passionate letter, page after page. I addressed it to him at his home and wrote
Personal and Private
at the top. I went to Father’s desk and found a little stub of sealing wax. I melted it, and then carefully distributed it over the join of the envelope so it would be obvious if anyone had read it. Of course, Mrs Roberts might simply hide the letter from Morgan, or even tear it up, but she was an honourable woman and I didn’t think she’d stoop so low.

There was no letter for me on Thursday. By Friday I was frantic, scared that Morgan wanted nothing more to do with me now. When I trailed into the factory, I found it was buzzing with rumours. There was a notice at the entrance.

There will be a meeting in the canteen for all workers at 11 o’clock.

Eliza Roberts

The girls in the design room were all of a twitter.

‘Maybe she’s shutting the factory down because of the war . . .’

‘Perhaps she’s going to have us making bullets or bombs, instead of sweets . . .’

‘I think she’s going to root out anyone suspicious, like that Geoff in the fondant room.’

‘
Geoff?
Why on earth pick on Geoff?’

‘Don’t you know his surname? Geoffrey Rentzenbrink! It’s German, clearly. He’ll be recruited as a spy.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! Geoff’s as English as we are. And I think his father’s
Dutch
, not German.’

‘You can’t be too careful, not with a war on.’

‘My Michael’s going to enlist – he thinks it’s every man’s duty.’

‘Can’t you talk him out of it? What if he gets injured – or worse?’

‘What if we don’t win this wretched war? My pa says the Germans have got a much bigger army than us.’

‘We could beat the ruddy Germans even if their army was twice the size of ours.’

‘Yes, our boys will be home by Christmas, just you wait and see.’

None of us knew any real facts, but everyone had a strong opinion. At eleven, the factory hooter went and we all stood up and filed off to the canteen. It felt very odd, all of us crowding in there in the middle of the morning. The long tables and benches were still stacked against the wall, so we all stood awkwardly, waiting.

I found myself standing next to Freddy. He nodded at me and then gave me a second glance.

‘Hello, Opal,’ he said, with some of his old eagerness. ‘You’re looking very well. There’s something different about you. Maybe you’re just growing up at last.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake,’ I said, infuriated by his patronizing tone.

‘Yes, quite the young lady,’ he said, leering at me now.

‘How’s Edith?’ I asked pointedly.

‘Oh, she’s very well too,’ he said, though he didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. ‘How are you getting on in design? I hear you’re Mrs Roberts’ favourite.’

‘No I’m not,’ I said with feeling. ‘But she likes my fairy designs.’

‘Fairies!’ said Freddy. ‘Still, the girls like them, I know. My Edith’s dotty about them fairies on the boxes. Maybe I’ll get her the summer special box before I go.’

‘Before you go where?’

‘To enlist!’ said Freddy, his eyes shining. ‘I’ve had a word with Mr Beeston already.’

‘You’re going to join the army?’ I said, staring at him. He looked more gangly than ever. I couldn’t imagine him in soldier’s khaki.

‘It’s my duty,’ he said. ‘Didn’t you see the posters today? Like they say, it’s for King and Country.’

‘What does Edith say?’

‘She’s proud of me,’ said Freddy.

‘Isn’t she worried?’

‘She knows we’ll see those Germans off and help the poor Belgians. There’s no beating us British boys.’ Freddy stood up straighter, as though he were already lining up for inspection.

I shook my head at him uneasily. Then the crowd started pushing forward and I realized that Mrs Roberts was threading her way through. Morgan was with her.

‘Oh my goodness, Morgan!’ I exclaimed.

‘Yes, that’s Mr Morgan,’ said Freddy. ‘I suppose he’s come to put in his two pennyworth too, though he’s nothing but a big schoolboy.’

‘He’s left school now. He’s about to go off to Oxford University.’

‘Yes, that place for big overgrown toffs,’ said Freddy. ‘Then he’ll come back and lord it over all of us, making us work long hours and paying us nonsense for wages.’

‘You’ve been listening to all those union men. You know nothing. Morgan will be a wonderful boss, truly fair, wanting justice for all,’ I said fiercely.

‘
Mister
Morgan to you. You keep saying Morgan this, Morgan that, just like you know him,’ said Freddy.

‘I
do
know him. He’s my friend,’ I said, before I could stop myself.

‘You’re having me on – you and Morgan Roberts are
friends
?’

‘Dear friends,’ I said.

Then Mrs Roberts clapped her hands and everyone was silent.

‘My son and I are here today to try to give all of you at Fairy Glen hope and reassurance. We look on you as family and friends, not just our workers. We feel more united than ever now that we are at war. Of course we’re all praying for peace. Let us hope the war will be over soon. We will continue to strive hard at Fairy Glen to produce the best confectionery money can buy.

‘Now, I know that some of you brave, patriotic young men are considering enlisting already. Although we will be sorry to see you go, we are so very proud of you. I know that some of you are hesitating. You want to do your duty and fight for our glorious country, but you are also responsible hard-working men who appreciate your secure job here at Fairy Glen. Together with my son, who will one day be in charge himself, I want to reassure you that no matter what happens, there will always be a job kept open for you at this factory.’

‘Excuse me, ma’am, but who will do all the heavy work if the lads go off to war?’ someone shouted.

‘Isn’t the answer obvious?’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘Have I not been fighting for women’s rights for years? We women will keep Fairy Glen going. We will build up our strength, develop our muscles, and toil away until our brave menfolk return home triumphant.’

‘I can’t quite see Mrs Roberts rolling up her dainty sleeves and handling a vat of boiling sugar,’ Freddy murmured. He glanced at me for a reaction. ‘Or her namby-pamby son.’

‘Hold your tongue. You’re just lowering yourself, Freddy,’ I said witheringly. He flushed.

‘Where do we go to enlist, then?’ another lad called.

‘Mr Beeston, step forward,’ said Mrs Roberts.

‘There’s a recruitment office newly opened at the public library, only a step away,’ said Mr Beeston. ‘I’d go there like a shot myself if they were accepting gentlemen of fifty-two, and that’s a fact. I’m proud of you boys, though my heart will ache to see you go. Could you step to the front right now so we can see how many of you are truly serious about enlisting.’

There was a little jostling and pushing, and eighteen or twenty men stepped forward proudly, Freddy amongst them. Dear Geoff was there at the front too. I hoped those horrid girls in the design room felt ashamed.

‘Well done, brave lads,’ said Mrs Roberts. ‘Let us give them a rousing cheer, ladies. They are an example to us all.’

There was a great cheer. I joined in, though I felt desperately sad. I knew that Geoff and many of the others had wives and children. How could they volunteer so recklessly when they might get badly injured, even killed?

‘Just one moment, Mrs Roberts!’ It was Freddy, standing right at the front, still bright red in the face. ‘You’re talking about examples. Well, what about Mr Morgan? Is he volunteering too?’

There was a little gasp. Someone shouted, ‘For shame!’ and another, ‘Pipe down, Freddy’ – but others muttered, ‘Yes,’ and ‘Good point.’ Morgan was very pale, but he held his head high. He cleared his throat, ready to speak, but Mrs Roberts clutched his arm to stop him.

‘I’m sure my son feels just as strongly as you do. In due time perhaps he will volunteer too, when he’s old enough. He has to finish his education first,’ she said firmly.

‘He doesn’t look like a schoolboy to me,’ said Freddy. ‘And surely he’d be better off fighting the Germans with us lads than mincing around blooming Oxford.’

There were more gasps and also laughter. Mrs Roberts was white too. She started to say something, but Morgan stepped forward, stopping her this time.

‘That’s a fair point,’ he said, loud and clear. ‘It’s a question I’ve been asking myself this week. You’re absolutely right. I can’t possibly swan off to Oxford and expect you to do the fighting for me. I shall enlist too.’

Mrs Roberts tried to say something again, but she couldn’t make herself heard above the new cheer – for Morgan this time.

It rang in my ears and set me reeling. He couldn’t really mean it, could he? Morgan hated the whole idea of fighting. He’d told me he’d be a pacifist. What was he doing, letting poor jealous Freddy goad him into fighting a war he didn’t want?

Mrs Roberts saw that she had lost control of the crowd and waved her arm distractedly, dismissing us. Everyone trooped back to work, chattering excitedly. I watched Freddy being clapped on the back by many of the men. I felt terrible. If I’d held my tongue about Morgan, maybe he wouldn’t have spoken out.

My stomach lurched and I had to push my way through the crowd, running for the ladies’ cloakroom. I was horribly ill, carrying on retching long after I had no food left inside me.

When I eventually crept back to the design room, I heard shouting coming from Mrs Roberts’ study. I couldn’t hear what she and Morgan were saying, but they both sounded in a terrible passion.

The girls in the design room were agog.

‘Hark at them! Going at it hammer and tongs. She’s nearly demented, and he’s lost his rag too. Fancy, I’ve never even heard her raise her voice before.’

‘She lives for that son of hers. She’d sooner fight herself than let him go.’

‘Fancy young Freddy speaking like that! I’d never have thought he had it in him.’

‘He’s a cheeky young limb.’

‘Yes, but he’s got a point. He clearly hit home.’

‘So even precious Mr Morgan is off to be a soldier now.’

‘
Be quiet!
’ I cried.

They stopped their silly gossip and stared at me. Then we heard hurried footsteps along the corridor. The door of the design room burst open. Mrs Roberts stood there, looking wild. She’d opened the neck of her dress to breathe more easily but she was still panting. She had tears rolling down her cheeks.