The Moonlit Murders: A historical mystery page-turner (A Fen Churche Mystery Book 3) by Fliss Chester (best ereader for pc .txt) 📗

behind the counter asked. She was in her later years, matronly in deportment, though impeccably dressed with neat hair, and Fen wondered if shopping here might be as terrifying as reporting to a school headmistress.

Luckily for Fen, Eloise took control of the situation and dazzled the matronly manageress with her big smile and American charm. ‘We’re looking for dresses and pantyhose, perhaps some new evening capes… definitely shoes if you have them and possibly a coat and hat too.’ Eloise reeled off the list and Fen had to try to keep a straight face as she saw the lady behind the counter look more and more flustered.

‘Have you got the coupons for all of this, madam?’ Fen could see the shopkeeper wanted the sale very badly but had to ask for their rationing coupons otherwise she wouldn’t be able to sell them the clothes.

‘Coupons?’ Eloise asked, looking a bit flustered herself now. ‘I’m American, does it count?’

‘I’m afraid so, madam.’

‘I have coupons.’ Fen fumbled around in her handbag for her ration book and clothing coupons, hoping that by producing them she might save the shopping expedition. ‘I didn’t use many this year. Look, I still have most of them left from the second page and all of the third page, which we should be allowed to use now, shouldn’t we?’

The saleswoman nodded and took Fen’s coupon book from her.

‘How long has this been going on for?’ Eloise whispered to Fen.

‘So long I almost forget. Since forty-one though, I think. Had to prioritise parachutes over knickers…’

‘How dull.’ Eloise gripped Fen’s arm. ‘Do you have enough of those coupon things?’

‘Let’s see. I haven’t been in the country for a couple of months and my friends back at the farm helped me “make do and mend” before I left for France, so there should be quite a few we can use.’

‘I can’t spend all your allowance,’ Eloise pulled away from Fen while still holding onto her arm.

‘Eloise, please use them. It’s the least I can do to thank you for paying for my passage.’

The saleswoman behind the mahogany counter coughed, a polite subtlety to let the ladies know she could hear everything they were discussing.

Eloise either didn’t cotton on or chose to ignore it. ‘Well, if you have spare, then I’d love enough to get some new stockings. France was bereft of anything of the sort, and the GIs who came through were empty-handed, the knuckleheads.’

Fen could imagine how disappointed a society girl like Eloise must have been every time a band of soldiers turned up without nylons or the like. She wondered what she too might have spent these coupons on as she watched the saleswoman count them out and carefully separate them from the rest of the booklet.

‘I can shop in New York,’ Fen declared, and wondered if she was trying to convince herself more than anyone of that fact, as she saw all her carefully saved coupons disappear under the counter.

‘Well, ladies, we have enough here for stockings and a blouse, or stockings, a blouse and one dress, if the blouse and stockings aren’t of the best quality. Or…’ She listed off some more combinations and Eloise eventually decided on two pairs of stockings, a nightdress and a scarf, while Fen bought one pair of stockings and a smart dress made of red cotton – a wool one would have pushed the limit on the coupons – which she thought she could jazz up with her pearls and a few other bits she’d picked up in Paris.

They thanked the woman behind the counter and left the shop, with Fen feeling rather giddy at the amount she’d spent and the coupons they’d burned through. She didn’t begrudge Eloise using her coupons at all; they were worth nothing compared to a passage aboard a ship like the De Grasse, but there was something in the profligacy of their spend that made her feel rather light-headed.

They decided a swift half-pint of bitter in the saloon bar of the Red Lion pub on the High Street was needed to fortify them for the rest of their expedition, although as Fen pointed out there wasn’t much else they could do without the appropriate coupons.

‘Why do you think I suggested we come to this dive?’ Eloise said, with a wink.

‘I don’t follow…’ Fen sipped the froth off the top of her half-pint, the lukewarm liquid reminding her so much of her life in Sussex. The Red Lion was typical of pubs throughout the country: dark, smoky and mostly full of men minding their own business or uttering the odd word to each other. The two young women had caused quite a few heads to turn as they’d entered the public bar and Fen had found it rather disconcerting to be so looked at for doing nothing more daring than choosing a small round table by the window and ordering a half-pint of beer.

‘Don’t tell me there isn’t someone here with a penchant for bootlegging.’ Eloise spoke as she scanned the room for potential marks. ‘My mother lived through the Prohibition era in Boston.’

‘Dry old time.’ Fen thought about the nights recently she’d had a bit too much to drink.

‘Not in the least. Mama said she’d never had more fun. You just had to find your… Aha. Back in a minute.’

Fen watched as Eloise walked up to the bar and leaned against it in a really quite flirty manner. The gentleman, if you could call him that, next to her looked a little like Spencer McNeal, but only in the sense that he was in a very shiny suit and his hair was Brylcreemed to the extent it shone, even under the low lights of the old Victorian boozer.

Now Fen looked at him she could see why Eloise had singled him out as perhaps being able to help. He looked nothing like the other drinkers in the pub, who, to a man, were altogether more shabby and casual. Where he had a suit, they were in woollen trousers and