The Bomb Girl Brides

by Daisy Styles

  ‘It’s lovely to be back in the old place,’ Roger said, as he flung himself full length on the old sofa, which groaned under his weight. ‘I’ve missed you so much, darling,’ he called out to her as he reached for his pipe and matches.

  ‘I’ve missed you too,’ she replied from the kitchen, where she wasted as much time as she could, fiddling about with teaspoons and a milk jug and searching for cups and saucers, things they never used normally but that she felt, after having tea at Hawksmoor House, might be necessary for Roger.

  ‘Here we are,’ she announced brightly, as she laid the tea tray down close to the sofa from where Roger reached out a hand. ‘Sweetheart, bugger the tea, kiss me,’ he begged.

  Feeling deeply uncomfortable, Rosa allowed him to pull her close and gave him a quick chaste kiss.

  ‘No, no, no,’ he chided, as he kissed her deeply, pushing open her mouth and flicking his tongue against her clenched teeth.

  At that exact moment, when Rosa was wriggling awkwardly, the door was flung wide open and a little squeaky voice called out, ‘Rosee! Rosee!’

  ‘Who in God’s name’s that?’ growled Roger, as Rosa sprang gratefully away from her fiancé and turned towards little Stevie, sitting upright in his pram with his arms flung wide open in greeting.

  ‘Caro!’ she cried as she rushed to the little boy and gave him the kind of welcome that Roger would have died to receive.

  ‘Rosee!’ little Stevie chanted, as she lifted him from the pram and kissed him on both rosy-red cheeks.

  ‘Do I get one too?’ Arthur chuckled as he followed behind.

  ‘Of course,’ Rosa cried, her cheeks scarlet as she clutched Stevie, who sat comfortably on her hip, playing with her long black hair, and stood on her tiptoes to give Arthur a kiss too.

  It was only as she pulled away that Arthur spotted Roger on the sofa.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Arthur immediately apologized. ‘We’ve come barging in and interrupted you.’

  Roger gallantly approached to shake Arthur’s hand and tweak Stevie’s cheek, at which the boy loudly protested.

  ‘Have some tea, Arthur,’ Rosa said. ‘Come and sit down.’

  ‘No, no, we’ll leave you to it,’ Arthur said diplomatically. ‘We’re just on our way over to Kit’s, but Stevie wasn’t passing your door without saying hello to you,’ he said jovially.

  For all his polite smiles, Rosa knew Arthur well enough to see he was embarrassed and keen to get away.

  ‘We’ll see you later,’ he added as he scooped Stevie from Rosa’s arms.

  Furious that he was being denied more kisses and cuddles, Stevie kicked up an almighty fuss, but Arthur firmly plonked him back in the pram and left the cowshed with the boy’s angry cries ringing in their ears.

  ‘I can see you’ve got a fan there,’ Roger chuckled.

  Disappointed that they’d gone, Rosa said rather feebly, ‘I used to babysit Stevie when he lived on the Phoenix site.’

  Anxious that Roger was going to start kissing her all over again, Rosa started to edge away, then jumped in surprise when yet again the cowshed door was flung wide open and Nora walked in announcing loudly, ‘Just got to pick up the pigswill bucket!’

  When she saw tall, imposing Roger in his dapper RAF uniform, Nora blushed. ‘Oh, sorry,’ she stammered. ‘Didn’t know we’d got company.’

  ‘Not at all,’ urbane Roger replied. ‘How are you, Nora?’

  ‘Fine, fine,’ flustered Nora replied. ‘Got to dash – Polly’s waiting for her tea!’

  When she’d sped away on her bicycle with the bucket of pigswill swinging from one of the handlebars, Roger slumped back on to the sofa, where he gave a loud groan. ‘God almighty! It’s like damn Piccadilly Circus in here!’

  Rosa smothered a smile. ‘I’m afraid it’s only going to get worse,’ she said apologetically. ‘Several friends are staying here overnight and everybody’s arriving at six for supper.’

  Roger’s face fell. ‘Am I to get no time with you at all?’ he said desperately.

  Keen to get him out of the house before somebody else came bursting through the door, Rosa took his arm. ‘Why don’t we drive down to the Black Bull and drop off your things?’ she suggested.

  ‘If it means we can have five minutes together, I’m all for that,’ said Roger, as he gripped her hand and pulled her to him. ‘I just can’t wait to get you on your own, sweetheart.’

  ‘Oh, Lord,’ thought Rosa as yet again she wriggled uncomfortably in Roger’s grip.

  All the happy comings and goings of the afternoon, the joyous reunions and declarations of joy, had done nothing but highlight Rosa’s discontent. There was no doubt in her mind about whose company she really wanted and unfortunately it wasn’t her fiancé’s; it was the man who’d just walked away pushing his little boy in a pram. The crushing truth of her situation bore down on Rosa; she had to stop lying to herself and, in fairness to Roger, she had to tell him the truth.

  34. Home Truths

  Rosa spent the best part of two hours trying to extricate herself from Roger, who was very keen to spend time with his fiancée after so many weeks apart. But, as she tried to leave, his beseeching expression made Rosa feel racked with guilt, so, perching ready for flight on the edge of the bed, she let him pour out his heart to her.

  ‘These last few weeks have been as tough as hell,’ Roger started. ‘Our workload has increased tenfold,’ he added, lowering his voice. ‘Strategic bombing in Europe has been taken over by President Eisenhower; we’re preparing for the Allied invasion, darling – it could be very soon.’

  Rosa gasped as she held a hand to her mouth. She knew of the advances in Europe but an Allied invasion, a massive joint force of British and American troops moving on the Germans, made her heart sing. Could it be that, with this imminent attack, peace might come and she would finally be reunited with her family?

  ‘That’s wonderful news,’ she cried.

  ‘We’ve lost so many men,’ Roger said sadly.

  On top of her guilt about the conversation Rosa knew she must have with Roger, she now felt genuinely sorry for him.

  ‘Please,’ she begged as she lay down on the bed beside him, ‘don’t speak like that.’

  ‘Why not? It’s the bloody truth.’ Near to tears, he gave a long, heart-felt groan as he buried his face in her thick, dark hair.

  ‘Shhh,’ she soothed, as she kissed and caressed him, until he fell into an exhausted sleep. When his breathing was steady, Rosa crept from the room and headed downstairs, where she immediately bumped into Nora and Peter.

  ‘What are you two doing here?’ she asked in surprise.

  Peter, now unaided by a walking stick, was paying great attention to laying cutlery on the long dining table that ran the length of the large, upstairs reception room. Squinting through his good eye, Peter, clearly taking great pleasure in his work, placed every knife, spoon and fork with accuracy and precision.

  ‘We offered to help the landlord if he was short staffed and he jumped at it,’ Peter told Rosa with a proud smile.

  ‘Edna was hoping to be here,’ Nora added. ‘But what with the chip shop’s opening hours and the little girls she’s minding, she’s not got a spare minute, so Peter and I said we’d take over.’

  She glanced adoringly at Peter, who looked back at her with just as much adoration.

  ‘Why am I surrounded by people who are madly in love?’ Rosa thought in frustration.

  Shaking selfish thoughts from her head, she smiled at the happy couple: Peter out and about, at ease with the world because of Nora’s love and devotion; and Nora, who’d never thought she’d be in love, utterly besotted by her brave boyfriend. Feeling choked with emotion, Rosa couldn’t stop herself from giving them both a quick kiss.

  ‘Don’t be late for tea,’ she said, as she hurriedly buttoned up her coat and headed for the pub door. ‘Everybody will be there, and they all want to meet Peter.’

  ‘And I want to meet them,’ said Peter eagerly.

&n
bsp; By the time Rosa had run up the steep hill and along the cobbled path that led to the cowshed, she was panting for breath; and when she saw the cowshed door wide open and heard music and singing, she rushed forward to see what was going on.

  ‘I’ll be loving you always,’ Maggie and Les sang in perfect harmony. ‘With a love that’s true, always …’

  Kit, who was standing on the doorstep breathing in the cool air, winked at Rosa.

  ‘Will you look at the two love-birds,’ she said fondly. ‘God love ’em.’

  Seeing Rosa’s eyes stray to her burgeoning belly, she tapped it gently. ‘I know what you’re thinking: look at the size of it!’

  Rosa was no expert on pregnancy, but Kit’s tummy really was enormous.

  ‘Poor you,’ she commiserated. ‘Hopefully it’ll soon be over.’

  ‘Don’t kid yourself – I’ve weeks to go,’ Kit chuckled. ‘Go on,’ she urged, ‘get yourself in there – little Stevie’s been all over the place looking for you.’

  With a knowing smile, Kit watched Rosa dash off to find Stevie. ‘And somebody else has been looking out for you too,’ she added under her breath.

  Inside the cowshed, clutching her Brownie camera which fortunately had a flash, Julia, looking elegant and stylish in slim-line tweed trousers and a brightgreen sweater tucked into her waistband, circled the room, snapping photographs of Gladys and Reg having a secret kiss, the radiant bride and groom who couldn’t stop hugging each other, and Kit’s husband, Ian, with Billy, who was still spotty but, much to everybody’s relief, completely recovered from chicken pox. Looking up, Julia saw Rosa standing in the doorway with the sun setting behind her.

  ‘You look a picture!’ Julia cried. ‘Don’t move an inch!’ she said and she took the shot.

  Momentarily motionless, Rosa heard a voice whispering softly behind her, ‘Penny for them.’

  Trembling, she turned to see tall, handsome, blue-eyed Arthur smiling down at her.

  ‘Oh, Arthur,’ she sighed and, unable to stop herself, she instinctively leant her face against his chest, where, feeling the solid strength of him, she relaxed for the first time all day.

  Laying a hand on her glorious dark hair, Arthur didn’t move; for a few seconds they both stayed perfectly still, hardly daring to breathe, and in that moment Julia caught them in the photograph they would treasure for the rest of their lives.

  ‘Rosee!’

  Reluctantly releasing Arthur from her embrace, Rosa bent down to scoop up little Stevie. ‘Carissimo,’ she murmured, as she kissed him gently, and with their arms encircled they stayed close, the three of them entwined, until Stevie wriggled impatiently and Rosa set him down, but Stevie held tightly on to her hand.

  ‘No! No!’ he squawked crossly.

  Seeing his sad little face, Rosa gently pulled him back into her embrace. ‘Don’t worry, carissimo, you can stay with me as long as you like,’ she assured him.

  The meagre supper the girls had been worrying about was much improved by everybody’s generous contributions. Les had somehow got his hands on a crate of stout and a bottle of whisky (nobody asked any awkward questions); Kit had brought some fine Lancashire cheese, which the neighbouring farmer’s wife had given to her; Arthur had arrived with a box of chocolates that sent the two little boys into a frenzy of excitement; and Edna, whom the girls hadn’t seen much of lately, dropped by with two dozen potato fritters.

  ‘Heat ’em up in the oven,’ Edna instructed before she rushed off home in her little blue van to open her chip shop. ‘Believe me, they’ll be gorgeous!’

  Roger arrived in time for supper, bringing Peter and Nora along with him. Before the meal began, Les rose to his feet and, holding up his glass of whisky, he gazed into Maggie’s big sky-blue eyes.

  ‘To my darling girl,’ he said. ‘Here’s to the rest of our lives together.’

  As the guests clapped and drank their whisky, Roger, squeezed up tight beside Rosa, covered her hand with his.

  ‘It’ll soon be our turn, my sweet,’ he murmured.

  Rosa turned to him, discomfort nagging at her. ‘You haven’t forgotten what I said about Gabriel, have you?’ she asked carefully.

  Seeing him looking blank, she added impatiently, ‘About waiting until I find my brother before we set the wedding date.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ he blustered. ‘But surely you must understand that we can’t wait forever, sweetheart – life goes on.’

  Feeling hurt, Rosa abruptly stood up and straightened her dishevelled clothes. ‘Life may go on for you, Roger, but without knowing what’s happened to Gabriel, I don’t think I’d make a very happy bride.’

  ‘Don’t take the hump,’ Roger begged as he grasped her hand.

  Rosa, who rarely drank, took a deep pull of her whisky. How was she going to get through the night? Glad of an excuse not to stare any longer into Roger’s yearning eyes, Rosa busied herself circulating plates of piping hot zuppa, then took the two little boys, who didn’t seem at all interested in eating anything but chocolate, out on to the moors, where they sat in the heather and watched the sun go down. Seeing Stevie yawning widely and rubbing his eyes, Rosa held him to her breast and rocked him gently; after a long, overexcited day the little boy soon dropped off in her arms.

  Billy, who’d recently turned three, stroked Stevie’s silky blond hair.

  ‘Stevie has no mummy,’ he lisped.

  Rosa stared at Kit’s son, who had his mother’s intense dark eyes. ‘That’s right, Billy, his mummy died, but he has a daddy who loves him very much.’

  ‘You be his mammy,’ Billy said with a bright smile.

  Rosa’s heart skipped a beat; Billy in all innocence had articulated what she’d always wanted to be: Stevie’s mummy. And, if she was not mistaken, Arthur’s wife too.

  As the party indoors got merrier and louder, Kit came to join Rosa and the boys. ‘I’d better get this one home,’ she said, as she tousled Billy’s raven-black hair. ‘Otherwise there’s going to be one very tired, and spotty, page boy!’ she chuckled.

  One by one the visitors left. Les, who had to be virtually wrenched away from his fiancée, called out as he went, ‘Don’t keep me waiting at the altar, darling!’

  Blowing kisses, he staggered into Reggie and Gladys’s car, where he was joined by Arthur and his sleeping son.

  ‘See you in the morning, Rosa,’ Arthur called, as he and Stevie settled in the car beside Les.

  Rosa stood waving and smiling in the twilight, until the car had disappeared over the hill; then, tilting her chin, she walked back into the cowshed to do the very thing she’d been dreading all day long.

  She found Roger sitting disconsolately by the wood-burner, puffing on his pipe. Hearing Nora, Peter and Julia washing up amidst much laughter in the kitchen, Rosa closed the kitchen door before sitting down beside him, where she lit up one of her cheroots. There was a long awkward pause as they both smoked, then Roger turned to her. ‘It’s all right, Rosa, I know.’

  Tears rushed into her eyes; racked with guilt, she simply didn’t know what to say.

  ‘It’s never been quite the same for you as it has for me,’ Roger continued slowly. ‘You’ve blown hot and cold most of the time.’ He gave a heavy sigh. ‘In retrospect I shouldn’t have rushed you; taking you to meet the family wasn’t such a clever move.’

  ‘They were very nice to me,’ she quickly interjected, taking his hand. ‘I liked them.’

  ‘But they’re a lot to take on, especially when you haven’t got a family of your own at the moment,’ he admitted with a guilty smile.

  ‘Roger, I can’t tell you how sorry I am,’ Rosa murmured, feeling utterly wretched, as she fiddled with the engagement ring on her finger. ‘I do love you, you’re a good, good man, but –’

  ‘You don’t love me enough,’ he said, finishing the sentence for her.

  Knowing this wasn’t the time for lies or feeble prevarications, Rosa bowed her head in shame.

  ‘I thought I did when I agreed to mar
ry you,’ she confessed, struggling to find the words to express her emotions. ‘But perhaps we did rush into things; perhaps I just didn’t know you well enough?’

  Roger stood up and tapped his pipe on the wood-burner. ‘I’m surplus to requirements here,’ he said with a resigned sigh.

  Trembling Rosa stood too, and, twisting the antique ring off her finger, she handed it back to Roger. It seemed like a cruel act, but she knew she was doing the right thing – for both of them in the long run.

  ‘I hope one day soon you’ll find someone a lot worthier than me to wear your grandmother’s ring.’

  Roger stared at the twinkling dark stone before taking it from Rosa and dropping it into his pocket. When she saw him picking up his RAF flying jacket, Rosa began to panic. ‘What will you do now? Where will you go at this time of night?’

  Roger gave a weary shrug. ‘Pick up my things from the pub and drive back to Norfolk,’ he replied.

  ‘But it’s going dark,’ she protested. ‘And it’s such a long drive.’

  Looking her square in the eye, Roger gave a wry smile. ‘I don’t think I’ll be sleeping much tonight wherever I am, and apart from everything else I don’t want to be a spectre at the feast at Maggie’s wedding.’

  Forcing herself not to cry, Rosa followed him to the door. Why had she not done this earlier?

  On the doorstep, with the sound of owls hooting as they hunted on the dark moors, Roger stroked her long, dark curls for the last time.

  ‘I’ve loved knowing you, beautiful Rosa,’ he said. ‘I hope you find your brother when this war is over.’

  And with that he turned his back and walked away. For the second time in less than an hour, Rosa stood and watched a car disappear into the night, but this was one she knew she would never see again.

  Feeling not one bit proud of herself, Rosa walked back into the cowshed, where, determined not to say or do anything that would darken Maggie’s happiness, she forced a bright smile to her face as she helped her friend prepare for her wedding day.

  35. The Big Day … at Last!