Across the Mersey - Annie Groves [96]
Alan’s mother had only volunteered her because Mr Parker was on the council and Alan’s parents wanted to be seen to be doing the right thing, thought Bella crossly.
The refugees were a sorry-looking bunch, mostly family groups of shabbily dressed men and women clutching grubby bundles with even grubbier-looking children clinging to their side. Some of the men looked positively disreputable, and Bella wasn’t surprised to see her mother-in-law’s friends making a beeline for the few refugees who seemed to be on their own – older women, in the main, who looked too exhausted and beaten down by what they had endured to be much trouble.
Bella had already told both her own mother and Alan, in no uncertain terms, what she felt about what she was being forced to do. Her mother naturally had been sympathetic and had agreed with her that Alan’s mother had a nerve volunteering her, but she had also reminded Bella that the Government could force her to provide billets for the refugees, if she didn’t volunteer, and that at least by volunteering she could have some say in who she had.
‘What you want to do is look for a strong sturdy woman who could do the rough work for you, darling,’ her mother had told her. ‘But make sure that she hasn’t got any children.’
Alan, typically, had sided completely with his mother, and had added fuel to the fire of Bella’s irritation by going on about all the voluntary work Trixie was doing, as well as working full time in the Parker family’s office.
Bella scowled now, remembering how furious she had been when she had learned that her fatherin-law had given Trixie a job answering the telephone and typing letters in his office.
‘What’s he asked her for?’ she had demanded, when Alan had told her. ‘I could have done that, and I’m sure the customers would much rather look at me than at Trixie.’
‘You?’ Alan had retaliated nastily. ‘You can’t even type. Trixie’s a proper shorthand typist. She’s got her head screwed on firmly, and she’s a lot pleasanter to be with than you are.’
Bella had been too furious to say anything, but she had poured out her fury to her mother later.
‘It’s Alan’s mother that’s gone and got her working there. I just know she has. She’s never liked me. Well, she can wish that Alan had married her precious Trixie as much as she likes, but it won’t do her any good because it’s me that’s his wife.’
A young woman with four small children all clinging to her looked pleadingly at Bella. Determinedly, Bella looked away, ignoring the desperate anxiety in her gaze.
She could see an older woman standing on her own. One of Alan’s mother’s friends was also studying her. Bella made up her mind. Determinedly she pushed her way to the desk, ignoring the fact that the three WVS women manning it were all already occupied with other householders, and announced firmly, to the one closest to her, ‘I’ll take that woman over there.’
The woman who had already been speaking to the WVS volunteer behind the desk looked crossly at Bella but Bella ignored her. The WVS volunteer sighed and reached for a fresh form.
‘Very well. And you are …?’
Bella gave her details, imperiously beckoning over the refugee she had chosen.
‘She’d better be able to speak English,’ she told the WVS worker, who had now turned to the refugee and was speaking to her slowly and politely, for all the world as though she was a proper person and not someone who was only here because of the war, Bella thought contemptuously. It seemed that the Polish woman could speak English, although not very well.
It was horribly unpleasant in the hall, and Bella couldn’t wait to get home. She would have to tell the woman to have a bath and make sure she washed all her clothes. She had been horrified when her mother had warned her that she must check to make sure that she didn’t need delousing.
‘Please sign this,’ the WVS woman told Bella, handing her a form.
Impatiently Bella signed it. ‘Do I have to take her