by Lily Baxter
She had slept very little after Dave’s astonishing proposal of marriage, and she had risen early hoping to leave the flat before anyone was about. She had been making tea and toast in the kitchen when Dave stumbled into the room, bleary-eyed with sleep and what little hair he had left standing up on his head like the fluff on a dandelion clock. He had mumbled his apologies for upsetting her, but had been at pains to convince her that his offer had been sincerely meant and still stood. ‘Any time you change your mind you can come home, Susan,’ he said earnestly. ‘There’ll always be a place for you here, no matter what my sister says.’
She had murmured her thanks, but she found she had no appetite for food, and she left as soon as she had gathered her things together. Dave had insisted that she kept the fur jacket and the sturdy brogues, for which she was truly grateful as she set off in a chill wind that would have sliced through her old cloth coat. When she reached Waterloo she bought a cup of tea in the station buffet, but the thought of food still made her feel nauseous. She had had to wait until late morning for the train, and even then the journey was slow. The weather broke just before the train pulled into Southampton station, where Susan had been told she had to change for Hamble.
She climbed down onto the platform, stiff and suffering from cramp. Charlie shook himself and looked up at her with shining eyes and his tongue lolling out of his mouth. It was all a game to him. Not so for Susan. She had attempted to put a call through to the aerodrome at Hamble when she arrived at Waterloo with the vague hope of contacting Tony, but she had been told that he was not available and advised to ring back later. Now, with nowhere to go and panic beginning to set in, she decided to try again. She went in search of a public telephone box, but when she found one she had to wait while a soldier talked at length, feeding coins into the slot one after the other. Eventually he finished and pushed the heavy door open. ‘Sorry, ducks,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s all yours now.’
She stepped inside, wrinkling her nose at the smell of stale tobacco and disinfectant. She tried the number again but was told that First Officer Richards was not available, and advised yet again to try later. Someone tapped on the glass and she saw a young Wren waiting impatiently, stamping her feet and rubbing her hands together as if to emphasise that it was cold outside. Susan left the phone box and went to retrieve Charlie from the fence post over which she had looped his lead. It was mid-afternoon and she had not eaten all day. She had reached the stage when she felt as though her knees had turned to jelly and she realised that she was starving. She found a WVS mobile canteen and spent some of her dwindling resources on a cup of tea and a sticky bun, which she shared with Charlie while they stood on the windswept platform for the train to Hamble. Eventually, after she had been waiting for what seemed like an interminable time, a tank engine chugged into the station pulling a couple of wagons. She found an empty compartment, which was the height of luxury after the uncomfortable journey from Waterloo, and she settled down, wondering what she was going to do when she reached her destination.
She had just about enough money for a week’s bed and board in a cheap lodging house. Dave had pressed a ten bob note into her hands as she left the flat. She had been reluctant to take it, but he insisted that it was in lieu of wages. It would have been undignified to argue and she did not want to hurt him any more than she had already done by refusing his offer of marriage. Even thinking about it now made the blush rise to her cheeks. She had never for a moment thought of him in that way, and it shocked her to imagine that he had wanted her as anything other than a daughter. She stared out of the window. The light was already fading and soon it would be dark. Her first priority now was to find a bed for the night. She fumbled in her handbag and pulled out her purse. In the back pocket she found the scrap of paper on which Tony had written the telephone number of a pub called the Victorious. She remembered him saying that the landlord was a friend of his. Perhaps she was being unrealistic in thinking that Tony would help her, but she had lost faith in Colin since he admitted that he had a fiancée in the Highlands. She wondered if poor Morag knew that he flirted shamelessly with other women when he was far from home. In any event, she had decided that he was too charming by half, and he was well aware of his power over women.
‘Right, Charlie,’ she said out loud as they alighted from the train at Hamble station. ‘Will we be victors at the Victorious?’ She pulled a face at the dreadful pun. ‘There’s only one way to find out, old boy.’ With his lead held in one hand and her suitcase in the other, she set off for the village. The wind whipped across open countryside to snatch strands of hair from beneath her woollen cap. She was footsore and exhausted by the time she arrived in the High Street. Even though the dusk was rapidly swallowing up the ancient buildings she was struck by the timeless beauty of the place. It was like walking into the pages of one of the expensive magazines illustrated with picture-perfect English villages that Mrs Kemp kept on her coffee table to impress Mrs Girton-Chase. She found the pub easily enough but the doors were closed. Opening time was not for another hour, and it had started to rain. She huddled in the doorway with Charlie sitting obediently at her feet until he spotted a cat crossing the road and heading in a leisurely manner towards them. Charlie uttered a yelp of delight and bounded forward, pulling the lead from Susan’s nerveless fingers. Clutching the handle of her suitcase, which contained all her worldly possessions, she raced after him. The cat had decided to make a run for it, and Charlie was now in full chase. The sleek ginger tom leapt over the wall into the pub garden with Charlie in hot pursuit. Susan called him back but he affected not to hear her. Peering over the top of the wall, she could see him attempting to clamber up the leg of a rustic table on which the cat had taken refuge and was hissing loudly as it swiped at Charlie’s nose with unsheathed claws.
‘Charlie. Heel,’ Susan cried in desperation. ‘Come here, you bad dog.’
He ignored her as he bounced up and down barking excitedly. Susan was just wondering whether to go and knock on the pub door when she saw a slight figure appear from somewhere at the back of the building. A woman emerged from the shadows and hurried across the paved yard to the beer garden. ‘Here, boy.’
Charlie stopped prancing and ran to her, wagging his tail. Susan stood on tiptoe, waving madly. ‘Hello. That’s my dog, I’m afraid. He jumped the wall.’
The woman walked slowly towards her. ‘We don’t get too many strangers here these days.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was waiting for the pub to open. I’m looking for lodgings and I wondered if you had any vacancies.’
‘Go round to the front door and I’ll let you in.’
Susan needed no second bidding. Her teeth were chattering and she had lost all feeling in her fingertips and toes. She went to the door and waited. Moments later she heard the rasp of a key in the lock and she felt a blast of warm air as the door opened.
‘Come in. You must be frozen.’
It was dark in the bar but as she closed the door the woman flicked the light switch, revealing a welcoming bar room with a low beamed ceiling and a log fire burning in the ingle nook. Horse brasses decorated the oak beams and there were copper jugs filled with bronze and wine-red chrysanthemums on the polished wooden tables. Their spicy scent mingled with the resinous aroma of the pine logs burning on the fire and the overlying smells of ale and tobacco smoke. Charlie rushed over to Susan and jumped up at her.
‘You bad boy,’ she murmured, but she could not help smiling. It was impossible to be cross with a creature so full of exuberance and love of life. She glanced at her hostess, who was much younger than she had first thought. ‘I really am sorry. He wouldn’t have hurt your cat.’
‘That’s all right. Orlando can look after himself.’ The girl held out her hand. ‘I’m Rosemary Fuller, but everyone calls me Roz. My dad is the landlord.’
Susan shook her hand. ‘Susan Banks. You’ve already met Charlie.’
‘So you’re looking for somewhere to
stay. Have you got a job locally?’
‘No. It’s a long story, but I can pay my way.’
‘Never mind that now. You look done in. Why don’t you take a seat by the fire and I’ll get you something to drink.’
‘I suppose a cup of tea is out of the question?’
‘Not at all. I was just making one for myself when I heard the rumpus in the garden. I thought a fox might have got in and fancied Orlando for his dinner.’
‘Why Orlando? It’s a very grand name for a cat.’
Roz grinned sheepishly. ‘I know, but I called him after Orlando the Marmalade Cat. It’s a book I bought for Alice before the war when she had measles and needed cheering up. I just thought it suited my moggy.’
At that moment, as if on cue, Orlando himself marched into the bar. Greeted enthusiastically by Charlie the offended animal arched his back, hissed and leapt gracefully onto the settle next to Susan. She stroked his head and he curled up beside her. Charlie sat down, staring warily at the cat as if memories of Binkie-Boo had come back to haunt him.
‘That’s right, Charlie,’ Roz said, patting him. ‘Don’t mess with Orlando. He’s a tough street fighter and he won’t stand for any nonsense.’ She headed for the door at the back of the bar. ‘I won’t be two ticks. Make yourself comfortable, Susan. There’s almost an hour before we open up.’
She returned minutes later carrying a tray of tea. Susan’s mouth watered as she spotted a plate of sandwiches.
‘Help yourself,’ Roz said, setting the tray down in front of her. ‘I’d only just made these for my tea, but I can soon cut another couple of rounds. You look as though you could do with something to eat.’
Susan took a sandwich and bit into it. She chewed and swallowed, savouring the taste of the roast chicken. ‘Thank you so much. This is a real treat.’
‘We have a deal with one of the local farmers,’ Roz said, pouring tea into two mugs. ‘We’ve got a bit of land at the bottom of the beer garden. Dad’s talking about getting our own hens and a pig as well, but I’m not sure if I could raise one and then send it to the abattoir, never mind eating the meat. On the other hand we have to feed our customers or they’ll go elsewhere.’ She sat down on a chair opposite Susan. ‘When you’re ready I’m dying to hear your story.’ She tossed a biscuit to Charlie and settled back, sipping her tea as she waited for Susan to finish her food. ‘Okay then. Now you can talk.’
The clock on the wall behind the bar was ticking on relentlessly. Susan made haste to explain her circumstances to Roz as briefly and succinctly as possible. At the mention of Tony’s name, Roz chuckled. ‘Oh, him. Yes, I know Tony Richards. He’s a great guy, full of fun and a real gentleman. Some of them aren’t, you know.’ She winked at Susan. ‘You’ve got to watch some of the glamour boys, like Colin Forbes. They think they’re God’s gift to women, and to be truthful some of them are quite dreamy, including Colin, but Tony’s not like that.’
‘He told me to get in touch if I was in the neighbourhood.’
Roz angled her head. ‘And you’re here now. What d’you think you’ll do?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll have to find work soon.’
‘Well, first you’ll need to find some digs.’ Roz frowned. ‘We don’t have any letting rooms, because it’s just Dad and me running the place.’ She met Susan’s questioning look and smiled. ‘My mother died giving birth to me, so it’s always been just the two of us.’
‘I’m sorry. But at least you’ve got your dad.’
‘And he’s a poppet. I love him dearly, but he needs looking after. Heaven knows what he’d do if I ever left home. More tea, Susan?’
‘No, thank you.’ She shook her head, placing her empty mug on the tray. ‘You’ve been very kind, but we’d best leave now and start looking in earnest. Are there any boarding houses or pubs that take in paying guests?’
‘I’m sure there are, but it’s a bit late to go wandering around on your own. I’ve been thinking, Susan. We do have a spare room. It’s in a bit of a muddle but you could stay here tonight, and start again in the morning.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to put you to any bother. And then there’s Charlie. He’s used to sleeping with me.’
Roz reached out to stroke his head. ‘That’s okay, and I’m sure that Dad won’t mind. He’s having his afternoon nap, but I’ll introduce you to him later.’ She rose to her feet. ‘Perhaps Tony or Colin will pop in for a pint this evening, and then you can collar one of them. We’ll see if they meant what they said, or if it was just man talk. I’ll show you the room and then you can decide whether or not you want to stay.’
‘I’m sure it will be fine.’ Susan heaved her tired body from the settle. She could have fallen asleep sitting where she was, and the thought of going out in the cold and knocking on doors was daunting. She picked up her case and followed Roz out of the bar and up a narrow, creaking staircase to the first floor.
The spare room was at the front of the building. In the faint glimmer of light from the landing Susan could see that Roz had not been exaggerating about the mess. In order to reach the window and draw the curtains Roz had to clamber over cardboard boxes and a selection of odd items, including a standard lamp without a shade and a mock Tudor doll’s house perched on top of a metal-studded steamer trunk. She felt her way back in almost complete darkness and reached for the light switch. ‘As you can see it needs a bit of a tidy up, but the bed is quite comfortable, and the bathroom is just along the landing.’
‘Can I help? It doesn’t seem fair that you do all the work.’
‘It’s no trouble, and I think that Charlie can smell something that we can’t.’ Susan said, chuckling as he rooted around like a truffle hound. ‘My friend’s daughter, Alice, was the last person to sleep in here when I babysat for her. It’s quite possible that there’s a packet of biscuits stashed away somewhere. Perhaps it would be best if you take Charlie to my room, which is just across the landing.’
Susan called to Charlie and was surprised and delighted when he obeyed instantly. She waited while Roz went into her room, glancing round as if to make certain that everything was in order. ‘Come in, Susan. Make yourself at home, and feel free to use the bathroom. Dad won’t stir for a while yet. I always open up at five thirty, which I don’t mind because he’s very good about giving me time off if I have a date.’
‘Are you going out with anyone special?’ Susan was curious. She was certain that someone as attractive as Roz, with her shoulder-length dark hair and large lustrous eyes fringed with thick lashes, would have admirers queuing at the door for the chance to take her out.
‘Oh, you know how it is,’ Roz said vaguely. She left the room, closing the door hastily as Charlie made an attempt to follow her.
‘That was odd,’ Susan said to Charlie, who cocked his head on one side as if waiting for her to explain her remark. ‘I hope I didn’t put my foot in it.’ She slipped off her coat and laid it neatly on a chair by the door, but she paused for a moment, looking round the room with a touch of envy. Judging by the contents and the relics of childhood, Roz had occupied this space since she was a child. It was not a large room, and the ceiling sloped down to a dormer window with a wide sill covered in patchwork cushions. A kidney-shaped dressing table with a frilled floral skirt had pride of place in the alcove next to the chimney breast. It was cluttered with pots and jars, bottles of nail polish and a matching mirror, brush and comb set.
The mantelpiece was crowded with china ornaments in the shape of baby animals and chubby-cheeked nursery rhyme characters that would appeal to any child. An old-fashioned clothes press filled the space on the other side of the chimney breast, adding a note of period charm to the eclectic mix of furnishings. A double bed took up most of the opposite wall, its end legs propped up on two piles of books to accommodate the eccentrically sloping floor. Reclining on the pink satin eiderdown was a nightdress case in the shape of an elegant French doll, and a fluffy white rug was placed strategically on the pink and green
linoleum at the side of the bed.
Nothing in the room matched, and yet the result was both welcoming and homely. It was very much a girl’s room, and it seemed that Roz had been given everything she could possibly want to make her happy. Even if she had lost her mother, she was lucky to have a doting father. Susan thought of Dave and shivered. She had been genuinely fond of him, but his proposal with all it entailed had somehow tarnished a relationship that, in her mind at least, had no sexual connotations.
Silence engulfed her for the first time that day. She sat down on the edge of the bed and Charlie leapt up beside her. She checked his paws and was relieved to find that they were clean and dry. It would be awful to leave muddy prints on the pristine pink satin. She could have lain down and gone to sleep there and then, but consideration for her hostess, and a degree of nervousness, made her get up and open her case. She took her spongebag to the bathroom and had what was known as a lick and a promise in the children’s home. She would have loved to fill the bathtub with hot water and luxuriate in its depths, but she resisted the temptation and made her way back to the bedroom. She picked up her hairbrush and took a seat at the dressing table. She had never worn makeup, but she had noticed that Roz’s maquillage was perfect. The array of pots and potions in front of her was amazing, and a furtive glance in each of the drawers beneath the floral skirt revealed sets of combs, curlers, iron curling tongs and a box filled with lipsticks. Susan was tempted to try one, but she overcame the urge, and was brushing her hair when the door burst open.
Roz beckoned to her. ‘I’ve fixed the room up for you. Come and see.’
Susan stood up, shaking the creases from her skirt, and followed her out onto the landing.
‘There,’ Roz said, flinging the door open. ‘I’ve stowed all the rubbish away in the boxroom. I can’t think why I didn’t do it sooner, only with the pub open seven days a week there’s very little time for housekeeping.’ She smiled and a dimple appeared in her cheek. ‘That’s my excuse anyway. Actually we do have a charlady who comes in every day. She’s the proverbial treasure. You’ll meet her in the morning.’
