Page 54

“Post for Shelton, Sumner, Reece, Dixon, Harlow, March, and Calpert,” she said.

“You want seven people’s post?” asked the WAAF.

“They’re the other girls in my unit,” she explained.

The WAAF gave her a weary look and handed her a scrap of paper and a pencil. “Could you write those down?”

Izzie dutifully scribbled the names down and then handed over the piece of paper. After a few minutes, the WAAF returned with a bundle of envelopes.

“Thank you,” she said.

She walked away, sorting through the letters until she came to one with her service number and name on it. She paused in the doorway of the post office, her eyes fixed on her sister’s familiar handwriting. After nearly two months of exchanging letters, it still felt strange every single time Sylvia wrote to her, even more so that the letters were filled with news from the shop. Who had come in. Which customer had brought her own fabric to have made up, and who was looking ahead to the next batch of clothing coupons, which would be issued in June, with obvious anticipation.

But it wasn’t just news that came between the crisp sheets of Sylvia’s writing paper. There were worries too. The Board of Trade’s changes were one thing, but Izzie was even more concerned about the bank accounts, the paperwork, the uncollected debts. She would never admit this to Sylvia, but she couldn’t understand how Mum had allowed things to become so lax.

Heat flushed her cheeks as she remembered her swift anger over Sylvia’s letter about forcing Miss Keynes’s hand and making her pay for all of the beautiful things Mum had made for the woman. There was no denying that Sylvia had managed to collect all of the balances owed to them on more accounts than Izzie wished to admit. However, it still felt all wrong. Mum had been so adamant that they not do anything to drive away potential future business—a fact that Sylvia must have remembered from when they were children—and Sylvia had simply walked in and done away with all of that.

Sylvia was meant to be minding the shop, not changing every single thing about it.

A cough and an “Excuse me, Miss” prompted her to look up and realize that she was blocking the way for a senior officer. She saluted him and scrambled to step out of his way while apologizing.

Outside of the post office in the rapidly falling dark, she decided that she didn’t want to open her sister’s letter that evening for fear that it would only make her angry once again. Instead, she would get ready for the dance, enjoy an evening with her friends, and read it first thing in the morning.

26 February 1942

Dear Izzie,

I am happy to report that Mrs. Shelton’s Fashions has gone into the home furnishing business.

I realize that it is far less glamorous than designing clothes, but the other day a woman came in all in a rush asking if we could run up some blackout curtains for her. Apparently her house was bombed and she and her daughter have had to move into her sister’s spare room. She was a little embarrassed because she said she’s handy with a needle and blackout curtains are well within her reach, but she’s also working on the line at a factory as part of her war work so she simply doesn’t have the time.

I told her that we all need a little help from time to time, and there is no shame in coming to a dressmaker’s to have curtains made. Our new customer happily handed over her blackout fabric and paid her deposit. She should be picking up her new blackout curtains next Monday, and—perhaps even better—she promised that she would be telling all the ladies on her shift at the factory about the excellent service she received at Mrs. Shelton’s!

I know you might object to the idea of making up curtain orders because it isn’t the sort of thing that our mother would have taken on. Miss Reid certainly raised her eyebrows when I told her, and I feared that I might be in for an argument. However, she simply took the measurements and told me she would start on them right away.

The only other news I have for you is that Miss Reid is hard at work trying her best to adapt our mother’s patterns for the Board of Trade. A few of the skirts seem to be salvageable, but I’m afraid she isn’t happy with a single jacket toile she’s made. She’s taken to using me as a live model, poking and prodding me in all sorts of ways. I shall have to be careful not to offend her, otherwise I might find myself on the wrong end of a stray pin!

Yours,

Sylvia

4 March 1942

Dear Sylvia,

I know that you have probably been expecting a disapproving sort of letter from me, but quite the contrary: I fully approve of the idea of taking in curtains, cushions, and the like. There should be very little to those kinds of orders for a seamstress of Miss Reid’s abilities, and they are another way to bring money in. I would hate to think of the entire business going over to soft furnishings, but as a supplement I have no objections.

I must also thank you for sorting out the matter of the shop’s accounts. You say that you know I will disapprove of you telling me that Mum did not have a head for business. Quite the contrary, one of my great regrets is that I could not convince her to relinquish more of the responsibility for the running of Mrs. Shelton’s to me in her final months.

I wonder sometimes if she knew that she did not have much longer on this earth, but then I find myself asking why, if she did believe that, she did not do more to make sure that I knew how to run

I have been doing a little bit of business myself here at RAF Titchfield, although it initially started at training camp. As you can imagine, it’s quite the thing to outfit all of the thousands of girls who have been called up, and the RAF is doing its best. However, I don’t think anyone really accounted for how many WAAFs would need uniforms, and we’re all a little thrown together.

Naturally, I made a few tweaks and changes to my own uniform for fit, and others noticed. I did some alterations for Alexandra, who was in quite the bind thanks to having broad shoulders and a larger bust, and some of the other girls in my hut caught on. I thought that perhaps my services would no longer be needed in RAF Titchfield, but that has not been the case at all. Instead, I find myself with a steady stream of customers and a tidy sum of pocket money that I will be able to add to my wages.

I have also found, much to my surprise, that there is a great deal of sewing needed in the maintenance of a barrage balloon, as each unit is in charge of keeping the balloon’s silks in good working order. This might be why I was singled out for a balloon unit rather than tailoring, as I had expected. There is one other girl in my unit, Grace, who is a dab hand with a needle, and we often find ourselves happily sitting with our boots off, chatting and stitching away inside a huge deflated balloon that’s propped up so we can see.

It is a strange war.