Everest - The Teashop Girls

Elaine Everest was born and brought up in north-west Kent, where her books are set, and has written widely for womens magazines both short stories, serials and features as well as fiction and non-fiction books for the past twenty-two years. Successful in writing competitions, she was shortlisted in The Harry Bowling Prize and was BBC Radio Kent short story writer of the year in 2003.

A qualified tutor, she runs The Write Place creative writing school in Hextable, Kent. Elaine lives with her husband, Michael, and their Polish Lowland Sheepdog, Henry, in Swanley, Kent. The Teashop Girls is Elaines seventh book with Pan Macmillan.

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Also by Elaine Everest

The Woolworths Girls

Carols at Woolworths (ebook novella)

Christmas at Woolworths

Wartime at Woolworths

A Gift from Woolworths

The Butlins Girls

Flora Neville pulled a pearl-tipped hatpin from her best black felt hat and placed both onto the bed. It had been a tense day, and she was glad to be home and back to work; there were sheets to bring in from the line, where theyd been hanging a good part of the day, and there was dinner to prepare for the guests. A quick glance at a dainty ormolu clock standing in the middle of the walnut tallboy reminded her Rose would be in from school shortly. Flora needed to be back in her work clothes with todays events firmly locked away, so no one would know where shed set off to when she boarded the first train up to London. Furthermore, the nature of the business that had her kitted out in her Sunday best on a Thursday, and her usual sunny disposition replaced with a sad, thoughtful expression, should be known only to her and never told to a living soul. Some things should be forgotten, she thought to herself. She wouldnt deny, though, that it had been pleasant to stop for a cup of tea and a toasted teacake in a Lyons Corner House along the Strand after her appointment with the solicitor, Mr Bartholomew, and then catch a train from Charing Cross back to Ramsgate and home.

For once shed enjoyed being waited on by delightful waitresses who showed her to a vacant table and took her order. It made a change from being the one looking after her boarders at the Sea View guesthouse. She sat watching as the young women dashed here and there, taking orders and carrying heavy trays laden with food and drinks. They all had ready smiles and were so polite. However, she was surprised so many people would call out the word Nippy to get their attention.

Why do they call you Nippy? shed asked as her tea was brought to the table.

Its our new name, the dark-haired young waitress explained. Its supposed to be because we nip about all over the place, she giggled.

How strange. Surely they could call you something more in keeping with your smart appearance? Flora said as she reached for the milk jug.

The girl smiled. I dont mind it one little bit. They used to call us Gladys, and as thats my old gorgon of an aunts name, I much prefer to be a Nippy.

Oh, I see, Flora said as she poured her tea. Who decided to make the name official?

Lyons had a competition to find a new name, and thats how we came to be Nippies.

Flora smiled back at the girl. How interesting. Nippy is a much better name, and so memorable.

She thought about the busy Nippies as she sipped her tea. Hopefully the documents Flora now held in her black leather handbag would mean that her ten-year-old daughter, Rose, would never have to work as a waitress. When Rose grew up there would be money enough for her to train for a position in an office until the day came for her to marry and have a family to care for. Yes, that would be a very pleasing situation indeed.

Flora shook herself from her thoughts as she ran a brush through her soft brown hair and frowned at a few grey threads running through the gentle curls. Time waits for no one, especially you, Flora Neville, she muttered before twisting her hair back into a severe bun at the nape of her neck and fixing it with a tortoiseshell clip. Now, what to do first? She smiled at the pleasantly rounded face staring back at her from the mirror.

She hung her coat in the wardrobe and looked at an envelope shed placed on the bed as she walked into the room. Kneeling down, she reached under the double bed and pulled out a battered suitcase. Opening the stubborn catches, swearing under her breath as one caught her fingernail, she delved inside and pulled out a smaller leather case. Taking a long chain from around her neck that held a delicate brass key, she unlocked the smaller case. She gently touched a pearl cameo brooch and a small ruby ring, stopping to think for a moment about the past and how different her life had been. Then she placed the envelope shed collected from Mr Bartholomew inside. At least he kept his promise, she whispered, before locking the case. Looking around the room, she put the chain and the key into a small porcelain jar on her dressing table and pushed her secret safely back under the bed.

Rose Neville shivered as she hurried up the street towards the Ramsgate branch of Lyons teashop, hugging the straps of her black leather handbag and gas mask holder close to her side in case they slipped off her shoulder and were lost in her haste. She dreaded the day she would need to use the ugly gas mask; like so many in the small Kent seaside town, she hoped the war would be over before they saw enemy action. So many people were using the words phoney war, but as her mum was fond of saying, she could feel it in her water that something would happen before too long, and she wanted to be prepared.

Rose wasnt keen on the early morning starts, especially with a cold wind blowing off the nearby seafront and snow threatening to fall again. Her pert nose was frozen cold even though shed wrapped a bright red knitted scarf across most of her pretty face. Waving to an old school friend who was opening up the doors of a nearby cafe, she thanked God she was working for the prestigious Lyons teashop chain, who even had posh Corner Houses in London. So much better than the small cafe where staff did little more than fry eggs and serve mugs of tea all day long. Not only were Lyons staff taught how to serve food and be the best waitresses, but they wore smart uniforms and went by the name of Nippies. That couldnt be said for any other waitresses, she thought, feeling proud. Why, shed even been trained in London, just as other Nippies had.

Hey, a voice shouted from close behind her. Didnt you hear me calling for you to wait?

Rose stopped suddenly and turned as her friend Lily barrelled into her. Oops, sorry, I cant hear a thing wrapped up in this scarf. Arent you cold? she asked, seeing Lilys coat flapping open and her hair flowing free while she held a green felt hat in her hand.

I was late getting up and Ive run all the way. My hat blew off back at the corner. Ive lost my hatpin, she added, seeing Rose shake her head in despair.

Again? Youd lose your head if it was loose, Rose said. Now stand still while I do up your coat, or youll catch your death... She froze as the words came tumbling out. What an idiot she was. Im sorry, Lily. That was thoughtless of me.

Lily brushed a tear away that had been threatening to fall. Dont be daft. You didnt mean anything by it, and my mum would have said the same if shed been here. In fact, shed have made sure I was out of bed on time and had some breakfast inside me before I set off for work. And shed have told me off for not getting dressed properly, she added, giving Rose a quick hug. Tell me off as much as you want. No doubt I deserve it. Now, lets get to work before the old dragon reprimands us both for being late. She grabbed hold of Roses arm and hurried her along the street.