The Girl with the Suitcase

London, 12 September 1940

Elizabeth Manning had long since finished her pot of tea in the Lyons Corner House, but she was reluctant to go back to her hotel because it was good, free entertainment watching people coming in. She liked to assess outfits for style and quality, guessing which ones were hand-me-downs, or expensive. As she’d been managing a dress shop in Richmond for several years, it was her area of expertise.

Yet people’s relationships fascinated her too, especially the younger women coming in on the arms of servicemen. She saw the way they kept glancing at their partners. Had they met just last night at a dance? Or were they sweethearts about to be parted as he went off to fight? She saw older couples too with tense faces, perhaps worried there might be another daylight bomb- ing raid. Or maybe they were afraid for a son who was over in France. They could be anxious for a daughter who had moved away from home for war work. Or even planning to catch a train to see their grandchildren who had been evacuated the previous September.

A dark-haired woman, possibly in her twenties, had come in the door, but she faltered just inside, looking round nervously like a mouse who’d just come out of a hole in the skirting board.

Elizabeth was never afraid of going into restaurants alone, and she knew this was the young woman’s problem. But then her own mother used to say she was born bold.

The Corner House was packed, and the Nippies, the name given to the waitresses, were nipping around faster than usual to seat customers. Elizabeth didn’t want to be asked to vacate her table, and neither did she want to share it with someone old. But as she thought the hesitant woman was around the same age as herself, she beckoned for her to share her table.

Elizabeth liked the woman’s somewhat shy smile and clear relief at getting a seat.

‘This is so kind of you,’ she said as she reached Elizabeth and pulled out a chair. ‘I’m so hungry and I hadn’t got a clue about where to go instead. Are you sure I’m not imposing?’

‘Not at all,’ Elizabeth said with a warm smile. The other woman had a faint Cockney accent, but her voice was soft and appealing. ‘To be truthful I’m glad of some company. I’m Elizabeth Manning. Do sit down and we’ll see if we can get a Nippy to take your order.’

‘I’m Mary Price.’