was a safeguard, it was buying loyalty, buying security, buying protection against the truth. Violet leaned against the closed door. Yes, it was buying that as well!
2
‘Said it would serve as a lesson to others, have folk think twice before indulgin’ in black marketeerin’.’
The conversation between Alice Butler and Becky Turner was listened to by all within earshot on the bus carrying them to work.
‘Think twice!’ Alice Butler’s voice was scathing, ‘Puttin’ her away for five years won’t ’ave effect on nobody but herself and her family, they’ll never live it down.’
‘Must say I didn’t think the penalty would be so harsh.’ Becky’s reply brought nods of agreement from several women.
‘Harsh? It be bloody brutal!’ Hair tucked beneath a paisley scarf tied turban fashion, Alice’s head swung emphatically. ‘Them there magistrates wouldn’t have come down near so hard were it a man had stood afore that Bench.’
Becky took a ticket from the conductor, flashing a smile before tucking the small slip of white paper into her bag and answering, ‘I think you most likely be right.’
‘Most likely!’ Alice’s derision hooted along the body of the bus. ‘It’s a cold hard certainty! Had it been a bloke had up for handlin’ stolen goods he’d have been let off with a caution . . . “needed more in a factory or a mine” would have been the verdict. Justice . . . hah! Ain’t no justice where a woman be concerned, her can join up alongside men, do her bit along of them in every occupation ’cept coalmining, yet catch her doing what a lot of men be doing right under the noses of the bobbies and see what happens; a woman gets put inside.’
‘My mother was sayin’ it won’t end when that five years ends, the real hardship will come once Freda comes out of jail, says folk round here won’t want no truck with a wench convicted of dealin’ on the black market, mother says they’ll see it as takin’ food out of the mouths of kids.’
From the front of the bus the conductor called the next stop then yanked on the cord, setting the bell to sound. Rising from her seat, Alice wormed past passengers standing shoulder to shoulder in the aisle, her righteous anger turned on the conductor whose double pull was the signal for the driver to continue the journey.
‘’Old on! This war has taught everybody a lot these past couple of years but it ain’t yet taught me how to walk through bodies as though they wasn’t there.’
‘We ’ave a schedule to keep an’ it don’t allow waitin’ of wenches too busy talkin’ to watch for their stop.’
The man’s terse reply brought murmurs of approval from some of the passengers and Alice’s irritation flared to anger. Who did this smart arsed bugger think he was talking to! Clearing the last of the people blocking the aisle, she halted on the minute platform where the conductor stood.
‘We all ’ave schedules!’ Brown eyes blazing fire played on the man’s face. ‘My own bein’ a half past seven start in that munitions factory; now should it be I get quartered, that I lose fifteen minutes pay along of clockin’ on after that time cos you was in so much of a monkey’s wrassle to be away you didn’t give time for me to get off the bus, then you’re goin’ to ’ave a sight more to worry over than gettin’ to the depot canteen in time for a cuppa.’
The conductor sniffed. ‘Oh ar, you goin’ to report me to the bosses for wantin’ to mek sure the rest of these folk gets to work on time? Fat lot of notice they’ll tek of that!’
‘No, I won’t do any reporting. Unlike the specimen standin’ afore me I don’t need no bosses to fight my battles, I can do that very well for myself.’
The conductor laughed in open mockery. ‘You says the war has taught a lot of things, has it also taught you to box?’
2
‘Said it would serve as a lesson to others, have folk think twice before indulgin’ in black marketeerin’.’
The conversation between Alice Butler and Becky Turner was listened to by all within earshot on the bus carrying them to work.
‘Think twice!’ Alice Butler’s voice was scathing, ‘Puttin’ her away for five years won’t ’ave effect on nobody but herself and her family, they’ll never live it down.’
‘Must say I didn’t think the penalty would be so harsh.’ Becky’s reply brought nods of agreement from several women.
‘Harsh? It be bloody brutal!’ Hair tucked beneath a paisley scarf tied turban fashion, Alice’s head swung emphatically. ‘Them there magistrates wouldn’t have come down near so hard were it a man had stood afore that Bench.’
Becky took a ticket from the conductor, flashing a smile before tucking the small slip of white paper into her bag and answering, ‘I think you most likely be right.’
‘Most likely!’ Alice’s derision hooted along the body of the bus. ‘It’s a cold hard certainty! Had it been a bloke had up for handlin’ stolen goods he’d have been let off with a caution . . . “needed more in a factory or a mine” would have been the verdict. Justice . . . hah! Ain’t no justice where a woman be concerned, her can join up alongside men, do her bit along of them in every occupation ’cept coalmining, yet catch her doing what a lot of men be doing right under the noses of the bobbies and see what happens; a woman gets put inside.’
‘My mother was sayin’ it won’t end when that five years ends, the real hardship will come once Freda comes out of jail, says folk round here won’t want no truck with a wench convicted of dealin’ on the black market, mother says they’ll see it as takin’ food out of the mouths of kids.’
From the front of the bus the conductor called the next stop then yanked on the cord, setting the bell to sound. Rising from her seat, Alice wormed past passengers standing shoulder to shoulder in the aisle, her righteous anger turned on the conductor whose double pull was the signal for the driver to continue the journey.
‘’Old on! This war has taught everybody a lot these past couple of years but it ain’t yet taught me how to walk through bodies as though they wasn’t there.’
‘We ’ave a schedule to keep an’ it don’t allow waitin’ of wenches too busy talkin’ to watch for their stop.’
The man’s terse reply brought murmurs of approval from some of the passengers and Alice’s irritation flared to anger. Who did this smart arsed bugger think he was talking to! Clearing the last of the people blocking the aisle, she halted on the minute platform where the conductor stood.
‘We all ’ave schedules!’ Brown eyes blazing fire played on the man’s face. ‘My own bein’ a half past seven start in that munitions factory; now should it be I get quartered, that I lose fifteen minutes pay along of clockin’ on after that time cos you was in so much of a monkey’s wrassle to be away you didn’t give time for me to get off the bus, then you’re goin’ to ’ave a sight more to worry over than gettin’ to the depot canteen in time for a cuppa.’
The conductor sniffed. ‘Oh ar, you goin’ to report me to the bosses for wantin’ to mek sure the rest of these folk gets to work on time? Fat lot of notice they’ll tek of that!’
‘No, I won’t do any reporting. Unlike the specimen standin’ afore me I don’t need no bosses to fight my battles, I can do that very well for myself.’
The conductor laughed in open mockery. ‘You says the war has taught a lot of things, has it also taught you to box?’
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