by Nancy Revell
‘I do know about the school, Charlie.’ Rosie was having to think on her feet.
Bloody Lily, she’d murder her when she saw her.
‘But it’s no good for you,’ she added nonchalantly.
Charlotte looked at her sister as though she had just chucked a pail of cold water over her.
‘Why?’ She could hear that annoying whine in her voice again but couldn’t stop it, nor the tears of frustration that had started to sting her eyes.
Rosie took a drink of her tea, stalling for time.
‘Charlie, like I said to you the day we went to Tatham Street, it’s too dangerous here.’
Rosie paused.
‘This is one of the most heavily bombed towns in the country.’
‘I know, you’ve told me several times already,’ Charlotte said, tears now pooling in her eyes. ‘But if everyone thought like that – that it was too dangerous to live here,’ she argued, her voice growing steely, ‘there’d be no one left. We’d all be hiding in the hills, like cowards. And there certainly wouldn’t be any ships getting built. And if that was the case, it would just be a matter of time before I’d be learning German instead of French.’
Rosie looked at her sister. She often saw her mother in Charlotte, but there were other times, like now, when she saw herself.
Determined.
Stubborn.
‘And besides,’ Charlotte continued, ‘the school’s nowhere near the yards or the colliery. And here’s pretty safe too.’
Rosie sighed inwardly. Peter had argued a similar case when convincing her to move there from her flat in town.
God, how she missed him. If only he were here now. She could do with the support.
‘And Mrs Jenkins has a great Anderson shelter,’ Charlotte added, sensing victory. ‘She caught me the other day and insisted on showing me. She said you were always working late whenever there’d been an air raid and hadn’t used it.’
This was exactly why Rosie didn’t want Charlotte here. It wouldn’t be long before she was asking why she always had to work so late at Lily’s.
‘I just don’t understand why I can’t go to school here,’ Charlotte continued to argue. ‘I won’t have to board. And I’ll bet it’s much cheaper than Runcorn.’
‘But Runcorn is one of the best in the country. And is about the safest place for you to be at the moment.’ Rosie knew her reasons sounded feeble.
Suddenly she had an idea. It was a delaying tactic, but at this stage of the game, she’d grab it with both hands.
‘Look, Charlie.’ Rosie tried to sound upbeat. ‘You have to go back to Harrogate, at least until the end of term. Your fees are all paid up. There’s no other option. Why don’t we take stock of the situation when you come back for the Christmas break? It’s only – what – another six weeks?’
‘Seven,’ Charlotte corrected.
‘And then,’ Rosie said, trying to push down another rush of anger towards Lily – this was all her fault – ‘you can be my “plus one” to Lily’s wedding. See her in her green dress. It’s going to be quite a do at the Grand.’
Charlotte ignored the enticement. She’d be going to the wedding anyway.
‘Can’t you get a refund from the school?’ Charlotte asked.
Rosie took in a deep, controlled breath.
‘I doubt very much Mrs Willoughby-Smith will agree to pay back the fees just because you’re feeling homesick and have decided you don’t want to go there any more.’
‘Well she should!’ Charlotte exclaimed.
Rosie caught anger in Charlotte’s voice.
Something wasn’t right.
‘Charlie, that’s the way of the world. It you pay for a cake and eat half of it, you can’t then return the other half and demand your money back.’
‘That’s not the same!’ Charlotte snapped.
There it was again. The anger.
Hearing it brought to mind the fight Charlotte had been in. The one she’d said had nothing to do with her wanting to leave Runcorn.
‘Charlie, my instinct tells me that there’s something more to this than simply being homesick.’
Charlotte wished she hadn’t got so irate and had started crying instead. It would have tallied more with being homesick. Also, it might have softened Rosie up. But she just couldn’t help it. She did feel angry. And she couldn’t hold it back.
‘For heaven’s sake,’ Rosie cajoled, ‘just tell me what’s really going on.’
They were both quiet.
Charlotte thought of Kate’s words from earlier on, telling her to be truthful with her sister. She knew deep down that Kate was right. Her sister did love and care for her. She was the only person in the whole world who did. If she couldn’t be honest with her, who could she be truthful with?
Rosie saw her sister falter.
She moved and sat next to her on the sofa, putting her arms around her shoulders and squeezing her tight.
‘I don’t want you to give that school or Mrs Willoughby-Smith another penny,’ Charlotte begged. ‘They’re horrible!’
Rosie was now really concerned.
‘Why are they horrible?’ she coaxed, trying her hardest to suppress her own anger. Had they done something to Charlotte?
‘They’re just horrible, horrible people and I don’t want to see them ever again!’
Rosie could hear the beginnings of tears in her sister’s voice.
‘Charlie,’ Rosie said gently, ‘please tell me why they are horrible … Nobody’s done anything to you that they shouldn’t have? Have they?’
Rosie felt queasy just saying the words. If anyone had interfered with Charlotte, she would never forgive herself.
‘No, no,’ Charlotte said. ‘It’s nothing like that.’
Rosie breathed a huge sigh of relief.
‘It’s a bit of a long story,’ Charlotte said, looking up at Rosie.
‘Well, I’ll get us fresh cuppas and you can start at the beginning,’ Rosie said.
Charlotte watched as her sister left to make the tea.
She knew that what she was going to tell her was going to hurt and humiliate her sister as much as it was going to make her angry.
Chapter Sixteen
At just after half-past ten, Dr Parker was saying a chaste goodbye to Helen at the bus stop after their evening at the King’s Theatre on Crowtree Road. They had gone to see 49th Parallel, starring Laurence Olivier – a film Helen had told him she had wanted to see for a while.
In the east end, Pearl was emptying the slops from the beer trays and chatting to Bill as well as to her neighbour, Ronald, who was trying to persuade her to go back to his for a nightcap.
In town, Dor, Angie and Marie-Anne were out celebrating Dorothy’s twentieth birthday. They were presently being chatted up by three merchant-navy sailors in the Ritz.
Gloria was sitting with her leg up on a pouffe in her flat on the Borough Road, enjoying a cup of tea and writing a letter to Jack. She’d rung him from the hospital the day after the air raid and convinced him that she was fine and a visit was just too risky. If Miriam found out, the consequences would be far worse than a gash on her leg.
And at 34 Tatham Street, with Arthur and Agnes having just gone to bed, and Joe out with the Home Guard, Polly and Bel were enjoying a girly night in on their own.
Bel had commandeered Arthur’s worn but comfy armchair, with Tramp and Pup nestled by her feet. Polly was sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, which she had positioned in front of the warm range. Both had hands wrapped around mugs of steaming Ovaltine.
‘Come on, then,’ Bel implored. ‘I’m ready for the latest instalment. How was Tommy today?’
‘He’s doing really well,’ Polly said. ‘Really well. He’s on about setting a date for our wedding.’
Bel laughed. ‘I bet you he is!’
She blew on her hot milk.
‘So?’
‘So what?’ Polly asked.
‘So, have you set a date?’ Bel chuckled.
‘Yes, but that doesn’t stop you setting a date, does it?’ Bel looked at Polly. ‘I would have thought you’d have been dying to set a date. Come to think of it, I’m surprised you haven’t already.’
Polly just smiled but didn’t say anything. Instead she took a big slurp from her mug.
They were quiet for a moment.
‘Tommy told me to say thank you to you and Maisie for asking George to give Arthur a lift home. All this toing and froing to the hospital on the buses is definitely taking its toll. Tommy’s told him to have a rest tomorrow.’
Bel gave her best friend a puzzled look. Was she trying to change the subject?
She took a sip of her drink.
‘Have you told Tommy about Lily’s yet?’
Polly shook her head.
‘Not yet. Not sure how to tell him, really. But we’ve got plenty of time. There’s no rush.’
‘It’s a bit of an awkward one, isn’t it,’ Bel agreed. ‘But he knows about their wedding? And that it’s on Christmas Day?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Polly said, bending over to stroke Pup.
Bel looked at her.
‘I would have thought Tommy would be wanting to beat them down the aisle,’ she probed.
‘Mmm.’ Polly continued to pet the dog.
‘What do you mean, mmm?’ Bel asked, her suspicions growing by the second now.
Polly looked up. ‘Yes, I think he probably would,’ she agreed, sounding nonplussed.
‘God, Pol!’ Bel couldn’t help but show her exasperation. ‘I’d have thought you’d be a bit more excited. This is your wedding we’re talking about!’
Bel saw the worried look on her sister-in-law’s face and leant forward in her chair. ‘What’s wrong Pol?’ she asked, putting her hand on her friend’s knee and squeezing it.
Polly looked at her. She knew she was going to have to tell someone and Bel was the least likely to give her an earbashing.
She was also the only person she could really trust with keeping a secret.
Not that she’d be able to keep what she’d done a secret for much longer.
Chapter Seventeen
‘You’ve got a right to look nervous, my dear.’ George puffed on a cigar and eyed his future wife. Lily had just snapped at one of the girls and George had suggested they go for a cup of tea in the kitchen.
‘I don’t know what you mean, George. What do I have to be nervous about?’ Lily walked over to the armoire and retrieved two glass tumblers.
‘I thought we were having a cup of tea?’ George said, easing himself down onto one of the wooden chairs with the aid of his walking stick.
Lily didn’t answer, instead pouring out two cognacs.
George took his glass and gave Lily a look like the summons.
‘The very fact you didn’t tell me what you’d said when you were waxing lyrical about meeting Charlotte and how wonderful she was, and I only got to hear about it from a rather shocked Kate, says to me that you know what you did was wrong. Very wrong.’
George swilled the brandy around in his glass but didn’t take a drink.
‘I hate to say this, my dear, but you are now going to have to face the consequences.’
‘And the consequences are?’ Lily’s face was blank. George knew whenever she was worried, her face lost all expression – it was her ‘tell’.
‘The wrath of Rosie for starters,’ he said. ‘To say she’s going to be furious is an understatement. My guess is that Charlotte would have checked out the school more or less straight after she left you and Kate at the Maison Nouvelle. I would say it will have taken her all of half an hour – tops – from Rosie walking through the front door after work for Charlotte to bring up the subject of the Church High School.’
George looked at his pocket watch.
‘That’s given her a good couple of hours to deal with the repercussions of what you’ve done and to concoct a suitably slow and painful death for you.’
George finally took a swig of his drink. He placed it carefully back down on the kitchen table and rotated it slowly.
‘Honestly, George, you say I’m the drama queen!’
‘Lily,’ George said with a heavy sigh, ‘what on earth possessed you to tell Charlotte about the school?’
Lily didn’t answer. Instead she lit up another Gauloise.
The French grandfather clock out in the hallway chimed seven.
‘Perhaps we should go out to dinner?’ Lily suggested, nervously tapping her cigarette into the crystal ashtray.
‘There’s no running away from it, dear,’ George said. ‘It’s time to face the music – or should I say, the firing squad?’
On hearing the front door slam shut, Lily jumped.
‘Gawd! I’m getting as bad as Kate,’ she mumbled under her breath, just as Rosie came marching into the kitchen.
Rosie stopped and glared at Lily.
She said nothing.
‘Honestly, Rosie, if looks could kill.’ Lily tried to sound jocular, but the tremble in her voice betrayed her nervousness.
‘If only they could!’ Rosie finally spoke.
‘Shut the door, ma chère.’ Lily waved a hand over at the door. She did not want anyone other than George to be privy to the inevitable dressing-down she was about to get.
Rosie turned to look at the door. Ignoring Lily’s request, she went over to the armoire, got herself a glass and sloshed brandy into it. While she did so, Lily hurried over to the door and closed it.
‘Well, let’s make a toast.’ Rosie raised her glass. ‘To the victor!’
Lily looked at George, who appeared equally puzzled.
‘You’ll be pleased to hear, Lily, that you have won.’ Rosie glared at her. ‘You told her all about the damned school – knowing that doing so would give her the necessary ammunition to demand that she goes there and moves back here permanently.’
Rosie continued to fix Lily with a look of pure fury.
‘Have you any idea what the backlash is for me? Did you once think about what I wanted?’
Neither woman spoke for a moment.
Lily broke the stand-off.
‘You’re right, ma chère,’ she said, her voice eerily calm. ‘I didn’t think about what you really wanted, nor did I think about what I wanted, but I did think about what your little sister wanted, and what she obviously – desperately – wants is to be back here – with you – where she belongs.’
Rosie looked at Lily and then at George, who had been sitting quietly, sipping his drink and wisely keeping his mouth shut.
‘That’s not the point, Lily,’ Rosie said, exasperated. ‘I asked you – trusted you – not to say anything about the school and you flagrantly ignored my wishes.’
Lily felt herself flush. Feeling a little hot and light-headed, she sat down at the kitchen table.
Being trustworthy was one of the few virtues she claimed to possess. Rosie was right, she had betrayed a trust. It didn’t matter how much she tried to convince herself, or anyone else, that she was justified in telling Charlotte about the Church High School, ultimately she had done wrong.
Lily looked at Rosie, who was still standing, giving her the death glare.
‘I’m sorry, Rosie,’ she said simply but sincerely.
She pulled out a chair and gestured for Rosie to sit down.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. I broke a promise. And you know me, I pride myself on being a keeper of secrets. Someone you can trust. So, I apologise.’
Lily looked Rosie in the eye.
‘I really don’t know what came over me,’ she said somewhat wearily. ‘It was like the devil just crept into my head and opened my mouth. And the next thing I was blathering on about the school.’
She paused.
‘I’m so sorry. I really am.’
Another pause.
‘Do you think you’ll be able to forgive me
?’
Rosie looked at Lily and could see she meant what she said.
‘Mmm,’ she murmured. It was neither a yes nor a no, but it was good enough for Lily.
Rosie felt herself sag. Finally she acquiesced and sat down in the chair Lily had pulled out for her. Glancing at Lily and then at George, who had a look of relief on his face, she took a sip of her drink.
‘You know what,’ she said after a few moments’ contemplation. ‘I don’t know who I’m angrier with.’
There was a pause.
‘You, Lily – or that bloody school.’
‘What, the Church High School?’ Lily asked.
‘No, the bloody Runcorn School for Girls,’ Rosie said with venom.
Lily and George gave each other puzzled looks.
‘Tell us more,’ George said.
He’d always known there was more to all this.
And with that Rosie started to tell them what Charlotte had finally told her.
Chapter Eighteen
‘Are you worried about the wedding night?’ Bel asked, trying to be as tactful as possible.
‘Well, yes,’ Polly admitted. ‘I mean, every bride’s nervous about the actual wedding night, isn’t she?’
Bel nodded. ‘I was terrified before I married Teddy. I loved him so much, but it was still all rather foreboding.’
They were both quiet for a moment.
‘Is that the reason you’re putting off setting a date?’ Bel asked tentatively.
Polly looked at Bel.
‘No, if only that were the reason,’ she said forlornly.
It was the first time Bel had seen Polly look down in the dumps since Tommy’s return.
‘You’re starting to worry me now, Pol. Come on, just spit it out.’
Polly took a deep breath.
‘Can you remember when I got notification that I was due Tommy’s gratuity pay?’
Bel nodded. ‘Yes. We were all surprised that they paid it out even though Tommy hadn’t been officially declared dead.’
