The Foyles Bookshop Girls at War

  THE FOYLES BOOKSHOP GIRLS AT WAR

  Elaine Roberts

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  About this Book

  About the Author

  Table of Contents

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  About The Foyles Bookshop Girls at War

  Swapping books for the bomb factory takes courage – and could be dangerous.

  Working at the Foyles bookshop was Molly Cooper’s dream job. But with the country at war she’s determined to do her bit. So Molly gathers her courage, and sets off for the East End and her first day working at Silvertown munitions factory…

  It’s hard manual labour, and Molly must face the trials and tribulations of being the ‘new girl’ at the munitions factory, as well as the relentless physical work.

  The happy-ever-afters Molly read about in the pages of her beloved books have been lost to the war. And yet the munitions girls unite through their sense of duty and friendships that blossom in the most unlikely of settings…

  Contents

  Welcome Page

  About The Foyles Bookshop Girls at War

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Acknowledgements

  About Elaine Roberts

  The Foyles Girls Series

  Become an Aria Addict

  Copyright

  To my husband, Dave, and my wonderful family.

  Chapter 1

  June 1916

  Molly Cooper tucked her blonde hair behind her ear before picking up the folded newspaper that had been left on the wooden counter in Foyles, the London bookshop. The paper rustled as she unfolded it, causing her to look over her shoulder for old Leadbetter.

  ‘Excuse me.’

  A hand tugged at Molly’s skirt.

  Looking down, a little girl was clutching the black material. She stooped down. ‘Yes, little one, what can I do for you?’ Molly looked around her. ‘Where’s your ma?’

  The little girl turned and pointed to the rows of shelving, bowed under the weight of the tomes, just as a young woman carrying several books approached them. The child beamed and ran towards her.

  The woman smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry, I lose all track of time when I’m in this shop, and my daughter gets bored.’

  ‘We all feel the same; there are so many to choose from.’ Molly smiled. ‘I don’t think customers get to see half of them.’ She looked around, remembering the excitement she felt when she first walked through the doors of Foyles Bookshop, as a young girl.

  ‘I don’t know how you manage to get any work done. I’d spend all my time reading the books.’ The woman juggled her newfound treasures into her arms and took the little girl’s hand. ‘Right, we had better go and pay for these, before the shop closes and I have to put them all back.’

  Molly smiled as she watched them walk over towards Alice’s counter, before going over to the payment booth, where her friend Victoria would take the money for the purchases. She would miss working at Foyles and chatting with her friends, but this wasn’t about her. She had to do what was right. As always, Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm jumped into her head. The story had been with her since she’d read it as a child. Rebecca was a young girl that had to be strong and be herself, no matter what rules were laid down to stop her, and she had won out in the end. Wasn’t that what she had to do?

  Sighing, Molly glanced around to see if old Leadbetter was nearby. Satisfied there was no sign of him, she turned back to the front page of the newspaper. The picture of Lord Kitchener filled it, along with the news that he had drowned on his way to Russia. Tony’s face was suddenly in the forefront of her mind. His smile had captured every woman’s heart. Her mind played a rerun of him lighting one of his Players cigarettes as they sat under a tree in Greenwich Park. He showed off, blowing circles with the smoke he had inhaled. She had wanted to be his wife, practising her signature in readiness of his proposal, and giggling at his playful ways. Her eyes blurred as they stared unseeing at the paper. Molly blinked quickly to stop the tears from falling. She had been naïve and her friend, Alice, had been right, although she hadn’t listened at the time. Tony hadn’t been able to stop himself from chancing his arm with every pretty face he saw. He had never been going to propose to her. She had made a fool of herself over him and now she had to live with the guilt of what she had done. Had she really called him a coward for not enlisting, when all the other men did at the beginning of the war? It was unforgivable. Molly was thankful she hadn’t introduced Tony to her parents. They wouldn’t have understood the attraction, but now she couldn’t talk to them about what was eating her alive.

  Now Kitchener’s family were going through the same horrors of getting a visit from the telegram boy, telling them they have lost someone they love.

  ‘It’s a real tragedy.’

  Molly dropped the paper as though it was burning her fingers. There was no need to look round; she knew that voice. She didn’t think he would miss her. He had caught her up to no good, on numerous occasions.

  ‘He was a great Field Marshall and I’m sure he will leave a hole that won’t be easily filled. Asquith could have a problem there.’ Mr Leadbetter’s breath brushed against her cheek.

  Molly nodded as she looked down at Kitchener’s picture. Her nose wrinkled as the strong waft of cheese caught in the back of her throat. ‘That’s what my father also thought, Mr Leadbetter. He said last night, the prime minister would struggle to replace him.’

  He sighed. ‘This war certainly has a lot to answer for.’

  They both stared down at the picture, each lost in thought.

  A girl giggled. ‘So many books. It must be lovely to work here. Do you think I could get a job at Foyles when I’m older?’

  An older woman laughed. ‘You’d never get any work done, and you’d spend all your money on books.’

  Molly’s lips lifted as she remembered the nervous excitement of her first day working at Foyles. The large sign outside, declaring them to be the largest bookseller in London, shouted at the passers-by, inviting them in. It promised refunds of two thirds of the price, if the book was returned after being read. Once she had walked into the shop, it was like entering another world. The musty smell of the second hand books, stacked along the shelves, had seemed endless. She had been overwhelmed when she realised it spread over six floors and every nook and cranny had been crammed with books.

  A lot had happened since that day. Molly crossed her arms, holding herself tight. She bit down on her lip in a bid to stop her chin from trembling. Would she ever love again? The shop doors thudded shut and bolts were drawn across, pulling Molly away from her brooding.

  Mr Leadbetter stared at her hunched shoulders. ‘Your family must be very proud of you, taking on the challenges that this war has thrown at everyone. The men have an obvious bravery about them, but the women that have been left behind are doing an exceptional job picking up the pieces.’

  Molly’s grip tightened around her waist. ‘Does that mean we might get the vote when this is all over?’

  ‘Who knows, Miss Cooper? Unfortunately, that’s not my decision to make.’ Mr Leadbetter arched his eyebrows. ‘Do you follow the political musings of our government?’

  Molly glanced over her shoulder at her manager. ‘I must admit, I didn’t until the war started, but now I read the news every day.’ She looked back at the newspaper.

  ‘That’s good.’ Mr Leadbetter forced a smile. ‘It’s important to know what’s going on.’

  ‘I suppose, but the news is so gruesome all the time; so many deaths.’ Molly sighed. ‘Sometimes, I think I’d rather not know.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘Give me a good book any day.’

  Mr Leadbetter clenched his lips tight for a second, fighting the urge to give her a fatherly hug. ‘Well, this is it. The time has come for you to say your goodbyes. I suspect everyone is waiting for you.’ He chuckled. ‘You’ve worked here for some time and everyone in Foyles will miss you.’

  Molly took a deep breath and pasted on her best smile, before she swung round to face him. ‘I expect you’ll be happy to see the back of me, sir.’

  ‘On the contrary, there hasn’t been a day go by when you haven’t made me smile, even though you call me “old Leadbetter,” when you think I can’t hear you.’ His eyes sparkled and a smile lit up his normally stern features.

  Her rising body temperature told Molly her face was turning a lovely shade of red. She lowered her head slightly. ‘Sorry, sir, it was rude of me, but I always thought you didn’t like me.’

  ‘Far from it, you have been like the daughter I never had.’ Mr Leadbetter coughed. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that; most inappropriate.’

  Molly smiled at the elderly man standing in front of her. ‘On the contrary, there hasn’t been a day go by, when I haven’t felt I’ve been working with my father.’
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  Laughter burst from him. ‘I am sorry to see you leave us, but I do understand that young women like yourself are being put under pressure to do war work.’

  Molly nodded. ‘My mother was thrilled when I started working here. She didn’t want me to go into domestic service.’ She sighed.

  Mr Leadbetter frowned. ‘How does she feel about you going to the munitions’ factory? It’s not just hard work, it’s also dangerous.’

  Molly lowered her lashes. Should she admit she hadn’t told her family yet? Would he think she was a bad person? She sucked in her breath and the words of her half-lie tripped over themselves to escape. ‘They’ll be fine, once they get used to the idea of it. They don’t like change very much.’

  Mr Leadbetter nodded. ‘I don’t think many of us do.’

  Molly looked up at him. His upright frame belied his age. She gave him a wry smile. ‘It does feel strange to know that, when I come in here again, it will be as a customer.’ She stroked the oak counter. ‘I’ve met some lovely people since I began working here, and I have a bedroom full of books that I can’t bear to part with.’ She looked around at the heaving shelves. ‘No more stacking books away. I shan’t miss the musty second hand ones, and dusting until it catches in the back of your throat, or fighting the daily temptation to buy books for the children that come into my section.’ She took a deep breath.

  Mr Leadbetter’s eyes crinkled at the corners and a smile played on his lips as she spoke.

  Molly glanced up at him. ‘You know, I always wanted to sit them down and read to them, help them to become book lovers.’

  He frowned. ‘I’ve never heard you mention that before.’

  She gave a little scathing sound. ‘I never thought anyone, least of all you, would be interested in anything I had to say.’

  ‘What, and yet you are quite outspoken.’ His eyes searched her face. ‘Rumour has it, you are not to be crossed, although having said that, you appear to be a very popular young lady.’

  Molly laughed. ‘I don’t know about that, sir.’ She gave him a wide-eyed look. ‘It’s not about being popular, but about fitting in and being respected.’

  Mr Leadbetter nodded. ‘It sounds like I have done you a disservice, Miss Cooper. However, I shall miss you, as indeed will your colleagues, but our loss is the munitions’ factory’s gain.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I wish you well there, but please be assured that all the time I am here, there will be a position for you.’

  Molly nodded. She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him on the cheek, taken aback by his deceptively soft skin. ‘I shall miss you too, and of course, everyone who works here.’

  Thunderous applause and cheers filled the room. Molly spun round to a sea of faces beaming at her. Her friends of nearly twenty years, Alice Leybourne and Victoria Appleton, were at the front, clapping vigorously. Each were battling their demons and trying to survive. Molly fretted about her decision to leave Foyles and whether their friendship might suffer, but this was something she had to do. Their watery eyes told Molly much more than words could ever say. She blinked rapidly, in a bid to hold back the emotions that were in danger of engulfing her.

  Alice stepped forward, no longer able to hold the tears in check, as they rolled down her cheeks. She sniffed and wiped her fingers across her damp face. ‘Well, Miss Molly Cooper, we have booked tables at Café Monico, for everyone to say their goodbyes and wish you well, so grab your things.’

  Molly’s eyes glistened, but a ready smile came to her lips. ‘I don’t know, Alice, since you’ve had baby Arthur, you seem to shed tears at the drop of a hat. You and Victoria will probably see more of me than ever before.’

  ‘Yeah, well we won’t.’ A woman’s voice came from the back of the room.

  Mr Leadbetter blinked quickly and cleared his throat. ‘I wouldn’t have thought that was possible. I mean, not working in the same place and all that.’

  Molly glared up at him. He wasn’t helping the situation.

  Alice stepped forward, sniffing into her handkerchief. ‘It won’t be the same as working with you.’ She sucked in her breath. Her lips formed a weak smile. ‘We won’t be able to have lunch together, or go out after we finish here.’

  Mr Leadbetter gave the girls a smile. ‘Or be gossiping, when you should be working.’

  Molly’s throat tightened.

  ‘That doesn’t sound like us.’ Victoria chuckled, attempting to follow Mr Leadbetter’s lead to lighten the moment.

  His laughter erupted into the store. ‘It wasn’t you I was thinking of, Miss Appleton.’

  Victoria smiled as she took a couple of steps towards Alice, so she could put an arm around her shoulders. ‘Shh, everything will be all right. We’ll just have to make more of an effort to see each other from now on.’

  ‘Come on, get your things and let’s get this party started,’ a woman’s voice called out. Laughter filled the room, followed by cheers and applause.

  Mr Leadbetter held up his hand to bring silence. ‘I am unable to come to your party, but I have something to give you.’ The room was still. ‘We have had a collection and bought you a gift to remember us by.’ He handed over a neatly wrapped square package, tied with red ribbon. Molly looked up at him as he nodded his encouragement. He hoped she wouldn’t find out he had donated more money than everyone else, but as her manager, he felt he could justify it.

  ‘Open it,’ a lone voice called out.

  Molly laughed and, with trembling hands, she pulled at the ends of the ribbon. Her heart was pounding as she flipped up the lid, to see a small solid gold heart, hanging from a fine chain, nestling on red velvet padding. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she whispered. ‘Absolutely beautiful.’ She turned to the women standing around her. ‘Thank you, thank you so much.’ Molly immediately clipped it around her neck, peering down to admire it. ‘I can’t believe I’m actually leaving.’ Tears pricked at her eyes. ‘I shall miss you all so much.’ She looked back at her manager. ‘Including you, Mr Leadbetter.’ The bookstore erupted with laughter.

  Mr Leadbetter nodded. ‘We will be here, should you need us.’

  Alice and Victoria moved to give Molly a hug, quickly followed by others.

  Tears streamed down Molly’s cheeks. ‘I need to get my bag.’

  ‘I have it.’ Victoria thrust it in Molly’s direction.

  ‘Right ladies, it’s time…’ Mr Leadbetter walked over, with Molly close behind him, and pulled the bolts across the main doors, letting them swing open. ‘It’s time you started to enjoy your leaving party.’

  The women all pushed forward, eager to escape, but the chatter and laughter died on their lips. A glass, horse-drawn carriage was passing Foyles, slowly making its way along Charing Cross Road. People stopped and stared, before shaking their heads. Some lowered their gaze, murmuring as they made the sign of the cross on their chests. Silence hung in the air, only interrupted by the clip clopping of the horse and the wheels clattering, as they turned. Women wearing beige mob caps, trousers and three quarter length coats, belted at the waist, accompanied the carriage. They marched either side of it, keeping their eyes to the front at all times. The large windows on all four sides made it easy to see the coffin, with the flowers resting on top. Sniffing could be heard as the carriage passed by.

  ‘That must be one of the canaries,’ a whisper came from behind Molly.

  Molly’s throat tightened. Perhaps she should have chosen less dangerous war work. Perhaps her friends had been right. She gulped hard.

  A woman’s voice murmured, ‘Are you sure you want to work in the munition’s factory, to be a canary?’

  Molly’s watery eyes followed the carriage as it slowly drove past. Was that what her future held? Had the carriage come this way to remind her of the dangers that lay ahead? It didn’t matter, she had no choice – it was time for her to pay the piper.

  Chapter 2

  Molly studied the note in her hand. Her heart was pounding. She licked her dry lips. Frowning, she realised her father would be the one reading it. Her mother would have trouble understanding the handwriting. The conversation with Mr Leadbetter jumped to the forefront of her mind. Her conscience screamed that she should have been honest with him and her family. They deserved that. She wished she could say the same, but she wasn’t worthy of having an easy life. Molly took a deep breath, hoping they’d forgive her when she plucked up the courage to tell the truth. There was no escape, she felt compelled to do this, and there was no going back. A shiver ran down her spine. The rattle of the wheels and the clip-clopping of the horse’s hooves still rang in her head over the hushed silence of the funeral procession outside Foyles Bookshop, the constant reminder of the danger, and why she had to protect her parents and keep her secret. Molly shook her head. She would have to take whatever consequences came her way. She hoped her parents would realise they could all have a better life and her ma could rest up and stop taking in other people’s washing. Her slender fingers straightened the bottom of her cream blouse, with its wide black collar, before lifting the black calf length skirt, to slide her feet into the black shoes. The bare floorboards creaked. Molly held her breath and listened for movement in the modest three bedroomed, terraced house, in London’s Carlisle Street. The day’s greyness emulated her anxiety. Silence reigned.