Margaret's other bit of good luck came from Joyce. Joyce had dumped her long-standing Yorkshire boy friend and sold her car. She referred to him disdainfully as "War profiteer!" She visited Margaret one evening. She came in an Royal Air Force car. It was driven by a young Airman.
"This is Nobby," she said, breezing in as usual. "He's in Motor Transport and he always has some petrol to spare when I need to go on a visit."
"That's right!" laughed Nobby, "I'm always ready to help Joyce! She deserves it."
Michael would not let Joyce hug and kiss him. He cringed away. "He's like that now," said Margaret. "He thinks he's too old for a bit of slop. He won't sit on my knee any more. Growing up too fast for his age!"
Joyce picked Gwyn up and swung her around. "How's my lovely then?" she asked.
"I'm fine Aunty Joyce. Michael's got a new bike. Uncle Tom's bought it for him. He's let me have his old one. Do you want to see it?"
"Not now, love," her mother told her. "Let Aunty Joyce catch her breath before you start moidering her. Come on you two, let me have your coats."
Joyce handed her fur coat to Margaret. Nobby gave her his greatcoat to hang up in the hall.
Michael liked it when Nobby shook hands with him. It was just like two men greeting each other. "Pleased to meet you, mate," Nobby said.
Joyce had a special reason for visiting Margaret. She was short-staffed in her pub. Her rooms were all full up with Airmen and the rooms had to be claeaned. Her manager had been called up. Many of the local girls had found war work which paid better than cleaning or bar-maiding. It was all right in the evenings when they could earn extra on top of their daytime jobs. It was cleaning the place, in the mornings and looking after the bar at lunchtimes that was Joyce's main problem.
It occured to her that her friend could do with some money. Since she'd had her teeth done, she would be quite an asset behind the bar. Her male customers liked to have an attractive woman to chat to especially the married ones who were a long way from home and their wives.
Joyce described the situation to Margaret and asked her, "How about it then? You'll soon get used to serving. I'll be there to see you right. You'll enjoy it. Believe me!"
"What about my children at lunchtime?"
"Let them stay for school meals. The schools have started doing meals for those kids who need them haven't they?
"Well I don't know! What do you think, Michael?"
The man of the house said it would suit him fine. It would save him the long walk home and back again to school. Rob Matthews and Paul Howson, his two best friends, were already staying at school for lunch. They'd have more time together to play if he stayed.
"Please, Mam." He pleaded. "We'd like to stay - wouldn't we, Gwyn."
Gwyn wasn't so sure, but she backed Michael up."Yes please, Mam!" she said.
It was settled, when Mrs Martin said that Doreen could also stay for school dinners. Margaret had been taking Doreen to and from school most days. The Martins had looked after her welfare. It was a little something she had been doing in return. Margaret hadn't wanted to let her down.
Margaret caught the nine o'clock L6 Ribble bus to Euston Road, Mondays to Fridays, and the three o'clock bus, back home.
All morning, she cleaned the rooms, washed bed linen, ironed, tidied the bars and polished glasses. It was the sort of work she'd always done at home and for one or two women who'd employed her on and off since Gordon went away. She was unsupervised and the there were no customers to watch what she was doing. She liked it like that. She hated anyone standing over her while she was working.
The pub opened every day at noon. She left her morning work and went behind the bar. That was different. She'd never worked for the general public before and felt very nervous during the first week.
Fortunately, lunchtimes were not all that busy, except on Morecambe's market days, twice a week. Usually, most of the billeted Airmen were doing their training all day and did not return until early evening. But, occasionally, they would be given the afternoon off. Most would come back to their billet just after noon. Margaret would have quite a crowd of drinkers to serve. But many of Joyce's old, regular customers were away in the Forces. It wasn't the holiday season when she first started her job. Few visitors from away came in at lunchtime. She was never rushed off her feet.
There were a few pre-war customers, some lads on leave, who came in. Thirsty men and women shoppers had a pint, or an occasional short, after they'd been on the market searching for bargains. As Joyce had decided that doing meals at lunchtimes had become too difficult, because of the shortage of food, many customers had one drink, then left, to find a meal in a cafe, if they were lucky. Everything was in short supply because of the war.
Joyce showed Margaret how to pull a pint properly, how the till worked and how to change a barrel in the cellar.
"We have to keep the beer in good condition or they'll stop coming in. Nothing loses a regular customer faster than badly kept beer. Mind you, I don't know why they bother drinking it anymore. This wartime beer's nearly as weak as water."
The only cigarettes on sale were the dreaded Miners and occasionally, Turf cigarettes. The chocolate and cigarette machines were defunct for the duration. Under the counte were Players, Senior Service and Churchman's, Woodbines and a few more of the popular brands. "I keep them for the Air Force lads in the evening," said Joyce. "If anybody asks, say you're sorry, we only have the ones on show."
Margaret didn't mind the household chores. She began to really enjoy bar work. Once she'd overcome her nervousness, she liked chatting to the men who came in, especially the elderly regulars, when she got to know them. She'd spent so much time without adult company, it was all a pleasant change.
After Margaret had been serving for a month behind the bar, Joyce began to leave her in charge, except on market days. If her Airmen were out for the day she'd say, "Lock up behind you when you go home and put the keys through the letter box. I'll let myself in with my other keys."
It was always someone with a car who picked Joyce up, around lunchtime. There would be a double Beep! Beep! on the vehicle's horn and Joyce would come helter-skelter down the stairs, rush through the front bar and be on her away.
"See you tomorrow! Got to dash now!"
"That's Joyce!" thought Margaret. "Always in a hurry! Always up to something or other!"
One day, Joyce said to Margaret, "I've a nice surprise for you. Your brother Tom will be here tomorrow. I've managed to find a bed for him. He'll be staying with me for a while."
The next morning, Margaret was polishing some of the chairs, when her youngest brother came down the stairs. "Hello love," he said to his sister.
"Why Tom, what are you doing here.?"
"I'm in the Auxiliary Fire Service in Lancaster. I've left Vickers. I'm waiting for my call-up papers. I'm going to join the Army. In the meantime, I'm looking for a bit of action. I'm doing my bit for the war effort."
"But what are you doing here, now?"
"Oh, I was on late-shift. I'm just out of bed. Joyce lets me make my own breakfast. Well, you haven't said you're pleased to see me yet."
"Oh, I am Tom. I'm thrilled to see you. Mum and Dad all right? And Julia?"
"Yes, they're all okay. Julia's called her little baby after me by the way. We're going to call him Tommy."
"And Sammy?"
"He manages leave every few weeks. He's stationed near Carlise. Not far from home. Our Mam's loving having the baby to look after. Given her a new lease of life. Dad's not too keen on it."
"No surprise there!" Margaret replied. "Would you like a drink? It's nearly opening time."
"Breakfast first! Then I'll come through and we can have a nice little chat."
Margaret carried on with her polishing. When she'd finished, she unlocked the front door and went behind the bar. While she was waiting for some custom, she pondered all of the changes that had taken place in less than two years. She wondered if she and Gordon would ever be together again. It seemed to her that, slowly but surely, she was managing all right without him. She felt confident that if anything serious happened to him, but she did not want it to, she'd be able to cope. Joyce had told her that if the worst ever came to the worst, she could always work for her on a full-time basis.
"You my dear," she said, " are an absolute natural as a barmaid. I've had nothing but good reports of you from the men. Three inches off the hem of your skirt and you'd be perfect!"
Margaret laughed. "Oh Joyce, you'll make me blush. You are a one!"
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