by June Francis
‘Hey, hey, hey,’ echoed Davey’s voice in Rosie’s ear.
‘What did you do that for?’ she hissed, affected far more by the kiss than she wanted him to know. ‘Gran already seems to think I’m a handful.’
‘You are. A lovely handful. Now let’s ignore her and dance.’ So they danced some more and when the music stopped, swayed as if still hearing the piano play.
‘Hey, hey, hey! That’s enough, I said,’ shouted Maggie, hoisting herself from her chair and making her way over to them.
‘It was nice while it lasted,’ said Davey, and pressed his lips against Rosie’s again. He punched her lightly on the chin. ‘Take care of yourself, kiddo. See you around.’ He blew Maggie a kiss and was gone.
‘Cheeky monkey,’ growled the old woman. ‘Dancing like he was Jimmy Cagney.’
‘He was just messing, Gran. You know what lads are like.’ Rosie linked her arm through the old woman’s. ‘Are you tired?’
‘Aye, me bones are weary and I’m ready to go up the dancers.’
‘Then let’s go in. We’ve still got things to talk about.’
‘Not tonight, girl. Me head’s full of noise,’ she grumbled. ‘I’m in need of a bit of peace.’
Rosie wondered whether to go back to Amelia’s or not. In the comfort of her own bed, she would have time to think and work out what best to do.
But it appeared there was no doubt in Maggie’s mind that Rosie should stay the night. ‘We’ll discuss things in the morning, girl,’ she gasped, dragging herself upstairs by the banister rail. ‘Unless yous have to go rushing off like a lap dog to Miss Toffy Nose in West Derby?’
Rosie thought of Amelia looking at the clock then her watch, going to the door and gazing up at the night sky, seething because she had no idea where her niece was. ‘No, Gran,’ she said. ‘But I’ll have to go tomorrow, whatever I decide.’
‘Aye. Yous’ll have to fetch yer belongings. Yous can take the middle room. There’s a bed in there. But yous’ll have to make it up.’ She patted Rosie’s arm. ‘Yer can bring me up breakfast in bed. There’s a nice piece of saltfish in that ’fridgerator. Put it in soak now and it’ll be ready to boil first thing in the morning with some nice bread and butter. See yous then.’ The door closed in Rosie’s face.
She turned and ran lightly downstairs, found the saltfish and put it in soak, mind still in a whirl. It was not until she went back upstairs and was undressing that she thought of Davey and the kisses that seemed to linger on her mouth still. ‘See you around,’ he had said. But he wouldn’t if she wasn’t living here . . .
She made up the bed and slid beneath the covers: ‘To sleep, Perchance to dream’. Would she dream of dancing with Davey? How quickly her feelings had changed towards him. She pressed her cheek against the pillow, prayed for Harry, Babs and Dotty, and after the day she had had, fell asleep immediately.
Rosie woke early and made Maggie’s breakfast and took it up. The bedroom was full of heavy dark furniture. ‘Oak,’ said her grandmother, already sitting up in bed with a multicoloured shawl draped round her shoulders. ‘I had some nice stuff before. Went up like that matchstick factory out past Bootle during the Blitz. Don’t burn any different in the end, however much it cost. This lot was Emily’s. Yous made up yer mind yet, girl? I’ll tell yer what I’ll expect of yous: yer’ll leave school as yous said and work for me in the shop.’
‘Will you pay me?’
‘Yous’ll have yer keep.’
Rosie frowned. ‘Not good enough, Gran. I have to have some money for myself. I need to save.’
‘Ah, well, perhaps I can spare five bob a week,’ she said mildly.
Rosie realised the old woman was testing her. Aunt Amelia had only given her a shilling for working all day Saturday, saying she was getting valuable training which some would give their right arm for. ‘And my keep still?’
‘Aye. But I’ll need help in the house, as I’ve said.’
Rosie thought she would be able to save if she was careful and maybe there would be other ways of earning money. It was a waste of her education but when Gran died . . . She did not think further than that because it made her feel uncomfortably like a gold-digger. But it would be worth working her fingers to the bone if her grandmother had money and left it to her.
‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll come and live here.’
Maggie’s wrinkled face, almost as brown as a russet apple from all her years of working in the open, split into a smile. ‘Now yer talking! Yous go off now and tell Miss Toffee Nose what yous have decided.’
Said like that it sounded simple, but Rosie knew it was not going to be easy at all. Still, at least she would have the pleasure of seeing the anger and chagrin in her aunt’s face when Rosie revealed she was going to go completely against her wishes.
Chapter Eight
‘In!’ said Amelia with a jerk of the head, flinging the door open before Rosie could knock. Her aunt was wearing one of Violet’s dresses in a deep lavender-blue with a low-cut neckline. The girl had never seen her dressed in anything which suited her so well and it annoyed her no end. ‘I’m not even going to begin to play your game by asking why you stayed out all night,’ said Amelia. ‘Dotty’s here and the—’
‘Dotty? You didn’t tell me she was coming!’ said Rosie.
‘I would have if you hadn’t gone trolling off dressed to the nines. The Hudsons are expected any minute. Now move yourself!’ Amelia shoved her in the direction of the kitchen.
Rosie dug in her heels. ‘What did Dotty tell you?’
‘I’m not going to discuss this now. I’d appreciate it if you would start thinking of other people instead of yourself. Find out what’s worrying her for a start, before she slips down a grid.’
‘I know what’s worrying her,’ said Rosie fiercely. ‘She hates St Vincent’s.’
‘She might have told you that but I don’t believe it. Mother Superior says she’s doing very well, and soon she’ll be fitted with a pair of spectacles. She gets on all right with the other girls. It’s true she’s a bit timid still, but she has made a friend. Going anywhere strange can be hard at first.’
Rosie frowned. ‘She didn’t tell me she’d made a friend.’
‘You didn’t tell me you’d met her and Sam Dixon in the cemetery.’
‘She told you that?’ Rosie groaned, wondering what Dotty was thinking of, telling Amelia their secrets.
‘And why shouldn’t she? What have you to hide?’ She stared down into her niece’s cross face but when Rosie did not say any more, said only, ‘It can wait. You can help me in the kitchen. I’m cooking a proper meal.’
‘But what about the victory party? I thought we’d just be having a snack.’
‘You can forget the party. I told you, the Hudsons are coming. Peter and I have a lot to discuss before the wedding.’
‘When’s that to be?’
‘June. And if you behave yourself, you can be a bridesmaid along with Dotty.’
Rosie was stunned. Then she pulled herself together. ‘Why should I want to be your bridesmaid?’ she said with a look of disdain.
Amelia raised one eyebrow. ‘You ungrateful little madam! Don’t, if you feel like that then. I can always bring someone in off the street to accompany Dotty down the aisle.’
‘If you put it like that, I suppose I’ll have to,’ said Rosie, flushing, thinking that so far she had not been able to say one word she had rehearsed.
‘How gracious of you,’ said Amelia. ‘Go and help your sister set the table.’
Rosie went into the morning room, knowing that now was hardly the time to mention her grandmother.
‘Where have you been?’ whispered Dotty, sidling up to her. ‘Did you go to Mrs Baxendale’s? I told Aunt Amelia that’s where you might be.’ She glanced through the open doorway at her aunt, who was taking a roasting dish out of the oven.
‘What did you have to tell her anything for?’ said Rosie irritably, trying to come to terms with Amelia asking her to be a brid
esmaid.
‘Because she was talking about going to the police station and I was made up with her thinking to include me in this dinner with the Hudsons.’ Dotty’s eyes shone in a face made more elfin by the cropped hairstyle. ‘And guess what? I’m coming to stay for the whole of the summer holidays and when I go back she said she’ll arrange with Mother Superior that I can come here weekends because it’s so close.’ Her voice was dreamy. ‘Isn’t that good, Rosie? We’ll see each other regularly then. That’s unless Mrs Baxendale said she would take you in?’
‘No, she’s got a lodger,’ murmured Rosie, feeling sick to the stomach. How dare Aunt Amelia be nice to Dotty when Maggie wouldn’t have her?
Dotty sighed happily. ‘That’s OK then.’
‘No, it isn’t,’ said Rosie, taking the smile off her sister’s face. ‘I’m going to live with Gran.’
Dotty peered at her in dismay. ‘You can’t!’
‘I can!’ Rosie’s eyes glinted with annoyance. ‘Have you forgotten what Aunt Amelia’s done to Harry and Babs?’
‘She said it was for their own good.’ Dotty was eager to reassure Rosie. ‘And she knows how we both feel. She said it was really hard saying goodbye to Aunt Iris because she’d looked after her since Grandmother died.’
‘I don’t care what she said, Aunt Iris was grown up! You’ve let her get round you.’
Dotty’s face fell and Rosie felt guilty. She was about to apologise when her sister squared her narrow shoulders in their new plaid frock with a lace collar, and said, ‘So what? I feel happier now. Although I wish you weren’t going to live with that old woman. Have you told Aunt Amelia yet? Has she said you can go?’
‘I don’t see how she can stop me,’ said Rosie, tossing back her dark hair. ‘I was sixteen a few weeks back, remember? But don’t you go saying anything to her. I’ll tell her in my own good time.’
‘What are you two yapping on about?’ said Amelia, poking her head through the doorway. ‘The Hudsons will be here any minute and the pair of you haven’t even set the table yet. Hurry!’
They hurried, Rosie realising she did not have to help her sister as much as she would have in the past. Which meant, little as she liked to admit it, Amelia was right and St Vincent’s was doing Dotty good. Still, that did not make up for her sending Harry and Babs to Canada.
Rosie was just draining the potatoes when a rattling at the letter box heralded the arrival of the Hudsons. Without thinking, she raced Dotty and Amelia to the front door and beat them to it, untying the strings of her apron on the way.
‘I hope we’re not too early but I forgot if you said one or two o’clock,’ said Peter, caught in the act of polishing the toes of his shoes on the back of his trousers. He looked harassed. ‘You can blame these two. They wouldn’t come in.’
‘We were playing a game,’ said Tom. ‘Anyway, we’re here now.’ He smiled, hair slicked down with water, face scrubbed shining clean.
‘You’ve come at exactly the right time,’ said Amelia softly. ‘Come in.’
The girls stood aside as the Hudsons stepped over the threshold. It felt like an invasion, thought Rosie.
‘Peter, I don’t think you’ve met my eldest niece.’ Amelia urged her forward.
‘But I have.’ They shook hands, Rosie unable to disguise the pleasure she felt at seeing him again.
‘You never said,’ said Amelia, feeling slightly put out.
‘I thought she’d have told you?’
‘I forgot,’ said Rosie, hanging on to his hand.
Amelia nudged her. ‘Dotty, you definitely haven’t met Mr Hudson, have you?’
‘No. Hello, Mr Hudson,’ said the girl shyly.
‘Hello, Dotty.’ He smiled, shaking her hand.
‘I’ve met you,’ said Chris in a teasing voice. ‘And you told me a fib. You are at St Vincent’s.’
Colour flushed Dotty’s pale skin. Glancing at Amelia, she said, ‘I didn’t want anyone to know. I thought he’d take me back.’
‘You’ve embarrassed the girl, Chris,’ said Peter.
‘I didn’t mean to.’ The youth coloured to the roots of his hair.
‘Well, think next time.’
Chris looked sulky.
‘Let’s eat,’ said Amelia, leading the way.
They were all soon seated round the table except for Amelia, who was busy forking succulent moist ham on to their plates. Rosie was handing round potatoes and tinned peas.
‘Have you got a wishing wand?’ said Peter, smiling. ‘Where did you manage to get such ham?’
‘A farmer I know – and I’ll say no more than that except that I had to barter for it,’ said Amelia. ‘Everyone needs a treat now and then.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Tom, chin on the table, eyeing his plate at close quarters.
Rosie thought of the box of goodies Sam had given her and wished she had not given them all to her grandmother.
As if Dotty had read her mind, she said, ‘Sam gave us chocolate.’
‘Who’s Sam?’ asked Chris, gazing at her.
She avoided his eyes and addressed Peter. ‘He was married to Mam. Did you know Mam?’
Peter looked towards Amelia. ‘I thought she was married to a Joe?’
‘She was,’ put in Rosie, placing the serving dish in the middle of the table. ‘He was my dad. Sam’s a Yank. He was Mam’s second husband.’
‘He’s stationed at Burtonwood,’ said Amelia. ‘Younger than Violet and a well-kept secret. He comes from Chicago.’
‘You see much of him?’
Amelia smiled. ‘Once since the funeral. We were both putting flowers on the grave.’
‘You never said!’ said Rosie, put out.
Amelia sent her a cool glance as she slipped into a seat opposite Peter. ‘I forgot. Now shall we say Grace?’
The twins nudged each other but at a look from their father subsided and put their hands together.
Prayers said, everyone began to eat and no one spoke for at least five minutes. Then Rosie, feeling sorry for Chris, who still looked downcast, asked him to tell her something about Lord Sefton’s ancestry.
He went red with pleasure and said eagerly and with assurance, ‘Oh, the Seftons have been around for hundreds of years. The present one was Lord in Waiting to the King’s brother before his abdication.’
‘I never realised we had a lord that close. Did you, Dotty?’ said Rosie, seeking to draw her sister into the conversation and get her over her embarrassment.
‘I know his family used to own the land where the Grand National’s run,’ ventured Dotty, picking at her food and not taking her eyes off her plate. ‘I heard one of the Irish girls saying so. Her father owns a race horse.’
‘The family name is Molyneux and they’re supposed to have crossed over with the Conqueror,’ said Amelia.
‘That doesn’t exactly endear them to me,’ murmured Rosie. ‘His lot pillaged, raped and burnt half of England.’
‘Well said,’ said Peter, looking amused. ‘I know they owned huge tracts of land.’
‘The Seventh Viscount was a Jesuit priest who renounced the estate in favour of his brother,’ said Amelia, determined to get the conversational ball back in her corner, away from Rosie who was reminding her more of Violet by the minute. ‘That was in the eighteenth century. It was his son whose wife persuaded him to desert the true faith and curry favour with one of the Georges. By doing so he ended up an earl and entertained a king of France.’
‘That would be before the revolution, I take it?’ said Rosie.
‘Of course,’ said Amelia, frowning at her niece.
‘What’s a revolution?’ asked Jimmy.
‘It’s when the peasants revolt. In France, they chopped the heads off the king and queen,’ said Rosie.
‘Perhaps it was a ghost we saw, then,’ said Tom, arm going round his twin’s neck. ‘Maybe he haunts the Hall?’ he added with relish.
‘Don’t say that!’ Dotty shivered.
Rosie winked at the twins. �
��Dotty’s been told St Vincent’s is haunted.’
Thomas paused in the act of trying to cut off all the blood to his brother’s brain. ‘Have you seen it? Does it wail and drag its chains like this?’ He threw back his head and howled, waving his arms about. Jimmy followed suit. Dotty put her hands over her ears.
‘Stop it, you two,’ ordered Peter, frowning. ‘Or Aunt Lee won’t want us to come and live here.’
‘Fat chance of that,’ murmured Rosie.
Her aunt glared at her and Rosie hurriedly went to fetch the blancmange for the next course.
For the rest of the afternoon, Rosie watched Peter and Amelia, but as time wore on she could see nothing of the lover in his behaviour. What kind of marriage of convenience would it be? The thought that they mightn’t sleep together somehow made her feel better about the whole thing.
The Hudsons left shortly after five and it was then Rosie told Amelia about her plan to live with her grandmother.
‘You’re what?’ demanded her aunt, slamming the cutlery drawer shut and leaning against it. ‘Have you run mad?’
‘I don’t know why you should say that.’ Rosie twiddled her thumbs, resting her back against the stove, not meeting her aunt’s gaze.
‘Then you are mad. And look at me when I’m talking to you.’
Rosie lifted her head. ‘You’re always preaching duty to me. So I thought it was my duty to go and look after her.’
‘You’re a liar! You’re just trying to get back at me for sending Harry and Babs away.’ Amelia flicked at a fly with the tea towel. ‘But it won’t work. You go. As long as you turn up for work on Saturday.’
‘I can’t do that. I’m sorry, Aunt Amelia, but—’
‘You’re not sorry at all.’
‘I am! But I won’t be going to school any more. I’ll be working for Gran in her shop.’
The muscles of Amelia’s face tightened and her eyes were as hard as flint. ‘And what and where would this shop be?’
‘Not far from where I used to live,’ said Rosie, tilting her chin. ‘She sells groceries.’
‘I see. Pack your things.’
That startled her. ‘But—’
