Trio - [42]

Finding a dead bird in one of her sorting cubicles had made her scream and another day the big joke had been letting off a stink bomb which made the back of her throat burn and her eyes water. There were dirty pictures from under-the-counter magazines sellotaped to the walls. She felt humiliated, hating the thought that the men might talk about her looks and speculate about what she was like under her clothes. Each day when she arrived she was greeted by a deafening barrage of wolf-whistles. She kept make-up to a minimum, her hair was cut short and practical and of course she had her glasses. She wore nothing that could be considered immodest but it made no difference. Even the older men acted like schoolboys and there was an astonishing amount of skiving went on.

She would end her shift with a headache from the noise and the tension, her teeth grinding together as she worked, ears alert for any mischief directed her way. Walking down to pick Pamela up she would try and free herself from all that. When she watched the news on television, barricades on the streets in France, students and workers, thousands of them ready for change, and people proclaiming a new beginning in the Czech republic, it seemed like the whole world was in turmoil. People talking about revolution and all she could do was fret about the pressure at work. By bedtime each day the dread began again.

After three weeks she was told to see the supervisor. She waited, biting her nails, until he called her into his office. There was a short-term vacancy in Lost and Missing, would she take it on until Norma came back?

She agreed readily. A tiny office down a corridor off the main sorting hall. Lost and Missing would be her refuge. She was taken in to Monica, who explained in heavily accented but precise English how they went about delivering the items with inadequate or absent addresses, or how they tried to trace items reported as lost.

Lilian was saved. Monica was a delight to work with after the others and soon confided in Lilian that she too was appalled by the general standards of behaviour. ‘It is as if the teacher is out and they are seeing who can win the medal for the naughtiest boy. What I do is I smile, like this…’ She beamed at Lilian, even white teeth framed by scarlet lips, ‘and in here -’ she pressed a finger to her forehead – ‘I think, You poor, pathetic creatures, you are a bunch of monkeys. Yeah? Apes, I think.’

Lilian smiled. They were like monkeys with their chattering and leaping about and their endless obsession with sex. She remembered being embarrassed at Southport Zoo when they’d seen a monkey fiddling with itself, the children squealing with laughter and pointing. She tried not to blush again as she had at the time.

‘You’re widowed?’ Monica asked, once they’d got over the preliminaries about work.

Lilian was a bit taken aback at the direct approach but perhaps it was better to get it out in the open. ‘Yes. What about you, are you married?’ she looked at Monica’s hand, no ring.

‘Single. Waiting for Mr Right to come along.’

‘Where are you from?’

‘Spain. But my father was English. I came here after school and I seem to have got stuck.’

‘Would you like to go back?’

‘No.’ She smiled again and pulled a face. ‘Where I am from it is just farming, nothing to do. And Spain is a very poor country. There are better opportunities here, I think. I’d like to go to London maybe, that must be something. Have you ever been?’

‘Once,’ Lilian replied. ‘For our honeymoon. It was lovely, so much to see.’

‘Well, now we better get going. What you still need to see are the forms. There are a lot of forms in this office.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Millions of forms.’

Norma never returned to work and Lilian became friends with Monica and two other women who worked in wages. The four of them sat together in the canteen. Lilian no longer felt like a belisha beacon shining to attract the attention of the pranksters. Monica invited the other three to celebrate her birthday with a meal out at an Italian restaurant in Albert Square. Lilian asked Sally to baby-sit and they agreed it would make sense for Pamela to sleep over at her auntie’s.

Lilian hadn’t been out since Peter’s death and she had a rush of anxiety, worrying about what clothes to wear, how much money to take and what sort of gift to buy Monica.

Nevertheless she enjoyed the evening, caught herself laughing. Caught herself forgetting about Peter for a little while. It was peculiar coming back to the small terraced house that they’d moved into in Fallowfield and letting herself in and hearing the silence. Knowing she was alone, that Pamela wasn’t there.

After that the foursome went out every month or so – to the pictures or for a meal. Lilian no longer dreaded work and she took some pride in being able to provide for herself and Pamela.

Pamela

She’d locked the bathroom door and taken everything off. She started at the top and worked down. Nice hair, black and wavy. Eyes a bit small but a nice deep-blue colour. Nose awful, much too long and it looked swollen at the end instead of smooth and neat. Ghastly complexion, blackheads and a million spots on her forehead and two on her chin. Eleanor had a facial steamer. She was going to borrow that. She’d tried Anne French and Clearasil and nothing worked. Nice ears, OK neck. Boobs too big and she was sure the left one was bigger. Big and lopsided. Flat stomach, good. Horrendous legs, big thighs and too thick at the ankles. Feet OK. She turned around and looked over her shoulder at the mirror. Bottom just awful.