by June Francis
‘We’re going to need more of your homemade herbicide,’ called Rosie, stepping down into the garden, eyes red-rimmed from weeping, having just waved Davey off at the station. She had not wanted to go home to Maggie just yet, so on impulse had come to see her aunt.
Amelia had been pulling up lettuce and only now saw her close up. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Davey’s gone.’ Rosie swallowed the lump in her throat.
Sympathy welled up inside Amelia and she placed an arm around her niece’s shoulders. ‘Work. That’s the best panacea for an aching heart. How are things at the shop?’
Rosie took a deep breath. ‘Fine. Due to the heatwave we’re selling a lot of camomile lotion and Nivea cream.’
‘What about the old ladies? Eau de cologne?’
Rosie nodded. ‘And rosewater. And the gardeners are demanding Paraquat. We also had a sales rep in asking after you, by the way. In fact, he always asks is the boss in.’
‘Which one?’
‘Mr Rossiter.’
There was a pause in which Amelia’s mouth tightened. ‘Bernie. He’s still coming in then?’
The girl looked at her, remembering Davey mentioning Bernie, the one-legged diver, on their last day out, and how the name had touched a chord. Now she made the connection. Bernie Rossiter had been her aunt’s fiancé. She realised Amelia was staring at her and said quickly, ‘You know him, of course. You were right about him. He has got the gift of the gab.’
‘Does he know you’re my niece?’
‘I haven’t told him. He’d probably try and get round me even more if he knew. He kisses my hand but I tell him it won’t wash.’
‘You carry on saying that,’ said Amelia, entering the house through the French windows. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on.’
Rosie sat down, glancing about the tidy room and wondering where the twins were. Maybe Bernie Rossiter was the cause of the rows Uncle Pete and Aunt Amelia were having now?
Her aunt entered the room, carrying a plate. Rosie longed to ask about Bernard but guessed Amelia might go all prickly on her if she started prying.
‘I made a cake today. You’re lucky there’s actually a piece over. I’ve never known anyone eat like the twins.’
Rosie took the plate from her and watched her go out of the room again, seeing her with new eyes. Amelia really was quite attractive for her age. There was a bloom about her that had not been there a few weeks ago. Could it be because Mr Rossiter had returned? Although she had not sounded that pleased about his coming into the shop. Rosie bit into the cake, not wanting to believe her aunt could still be in love with the man. He was a charmer, but even so he was married and so was she.
‘I had a letter from Iris,’ said Amelia, pouring out the tea. ‘She’s renting a house and Babs has found a job in a store, Harry’s made new friends, so they’re all OK.’
‘Babs hasn’t written. And Aunt Iris didn’t mention Sam?’
‘Not in any significant way.’
Rosie pulled a face. ‘Pity. I was hoping something might come of their meeting.’
Amelia smiled. ‘I told you, you watch too many films. At least you must be glad Harry’s OK?’
Rosie nodded. ‘I still miss him, though.’
‘It would be unnatural if you didn’t. I still miss Iris.’
Amelia changed the subject. ‘The twins told me you met them on the ferry. How did Chris and Dotty seem to you?’
Rosie said cautiously, ‘In what way?’
‘Do you think she’s happier now? Do you think she’ll be able to cope with a job?’
Rosie gnawed at her lip. ‘I think she’s happier than she was. As for managing when she leaves St Vincent’s, I’m sure she could if she puts her mind to it. The trouble is, she likes having someone to look after her.’
‘And at the moment that’s Chris,’ murmured Amelia. ‘Maybe she could help you in the shop? You could keep your eye on her there.’
‘If that’s what you want,’ murmured Rosie, not relishing the idea. ‘You’re the boss. But it won’t be for a while, will it?’ She polished off the cake then said she would have to be going.
‘D’you want me to carry that Paraquat in tomorrow? It’s my early Saturday,’ said Peter, teeth biting into some toast.
‘Yes . . . no!’ His offer took Amelia by surprise. She made the herbicide in the shed at the bottom of the garden to an old formula of her father’s. ‘I’ll manage. You still need to get your strength back.’ She was thinking, what if Bernard should just happen to come into the shop while Pete was there? Her husband certainly wouldn’t like it.
‘I thought I’d proved I’d got my strength back?’ He got up and kissed the nape of her neck.
Amelia seized his hand and pulled his arm round her. ‘Save it then for next time.’ She felt a possessiveness towards him that grew inside her every time they made love. ‘You get on with writing that book that’s going to make us rich.’
‘It’s nice you’ve faith in me.’ He hugged her. ‘What about Chris carrying the Paraquat?’
She stared at him, a thought occurring to her, and paled. She had been wondering why Tess wouldn’t have wanted her to know who the boy’s father was and suddenly she thought she knew.
He frowned. ‘Don’t look like that. We’ve got to treat him just the same as we always have.’
‘Of course,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘He’s lost his mother at a difficult age in terrible circumstances.’
‘He could do it in his lunch hour.’
‘I don’t want him thinking I’m putting on him.’
‘OK.’ Peter dropped a kiss on her head and sighed.
Amelia changed the subject swiftly. ‘My lodger over the shop is having a baby. The newspapers reckon there’ll be a baby boom next year.’
He stood in the doorway, leaning against the door jamb. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I don’t know.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not a woman who cries for the moon.’
‘Then why mention it? I’ll never understand women.’
She got up and linked her arm through his. ‘You’re not supposed to. But lately I can’t help thinking every time we make love how I’d like to have your baby. Although last night I thought you’d forgotten how.’
‘I was remembering how Tess made excuses for Bernard Rossiter that time he went for you.’
‘I know she did.’ Her heart missed a beat. They had talked about old times, of her broken engagement. She wished she had told Peter then about Bernard’s coming back into the shop; wanted to tell him now; hated keeping secrets from him. But her nerve failed her, just as it had last night. Scared that what they had now might be spoilt. Besides, she did not want Peter getting hurt, especially when physically he was not at his peak. She hoped he would forget about the Paraquat.
She saw him out, relieved that he saw little of Rosie nowadays; the girl just might mention Bernie without thinking. Perhaps in a few months time, when she felt more secure, she would tell him about Bernard.
Chapter Seventeen
‘That looks nice,’ said Irene, watching Rosie decorate the shop window with tinsel. ‘Let’s hope it brings the customers in for something other than a bottle of Black Magic. I hate them coughing and spluttering all over the place. It’s a wonder we stay so fit.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ said Rosie, putting on a cough and climbing down from the ladder. ‘We won’t see many of them this afternoon anyway. I think this weather’s on for the day.’
Irene opened the door and a swirl of fog came in. ‘I feel sorry for them Russians,’ she said. ‘Their coalfields are frozen.’
‘Shut that door! It’s cold enough in here.’ Rosie tucked her scarf more snugly down the front of her overall and thought of Davey sweltering in Palestine.
Irene made to shut the door but it was pushed from the other side. ‘That’s not very welcoming,’ said a voice both of them recognised. ‘Where’s your Christmas spirit, girls?’
‘Hello, Mr Rossiter. What can w
e do for you?’ Irene beamed at him.
‘Came with a prescription for the wife and to introduce my son to you.’ Bernard ducked his head as he came through the doorway, calling over his shoulder, ‘Come in, Eddie, and meet Rosie and Irene.’
A youth followed him inside, closing the door after him. He was tall and lanky but the overcoat he wore was short in the sleeve as if he had shot up since it had been bought for him. ‘Hiya!’ He eyed the girls boldly from beneath the brim of a tilted trilby which gave him a rakish appearance.
‘He’s joining the business,’ said Bernard, flashing a smile. ‘What d’you think, girls? Does he have his old man’s style?’
‘Never!’ said Irene, but nevertheless eyed Eddie with interest.
Rosie smiled and put down the fact that he looked vaguely familiar to his being Bernard’s son. She took the prescription from the older man. ‘How is Mrs Rossiter?’
‘Just the same. Lives on her nerves and has a bit of a dicky heart. You’ll know that from the medicine she has to take.’ He indicated the prescription, resting one arm on top of a glass display cabinet. ‘How are things with you and how’s the boyfriend? Still dodging bullets?’
‘That’s right,’ she said with a bright smile, wishing he would not talk in such a way of something that terrified her, but the only thing she could do was to joke back. ‘At least he’s getting a suntan while we’re all freezing.’
‘Hmmm!’ He looked around. ‘Is the boss in?’
‘No. And before you ask, she’s fine as far as I know.’ She filled in the book and took the prescription in to Mr Brown.
When she returned, to her surprise Amelia was in the shop and immediately Rosie sensed tension in the air. Her aunt’s face was set as she stared at Eddie, and Bernard’s expression as he looked in her own direction contained a hint of menace. He loomed over her and a shiver rippled down her spine. ‘Why didn’t you tell me Amy was your aunt?’ he said softly.
The question took her aback. ‘Amy? You mean, Aunt Amelia? I never thought about it.’
‘Seems strange to me you didn’t,’ he sneered. ‘You’ll be Violet’s girl, I take it?’
‘That’s right,’ said Amelia, coming to life and moving to Rosie’s side. ‘My sister died nearly two years ago.’
‘She was a looker. And so are you, girl.’ Bernard’s voice was silky as he leaned over and, before Rosie could prevent him, traced the line of her cheek with one probing finger.
Amelia’s arm shot out to push his hand away. ‘Don’t do that!’
‘My, we are protective.’ There was a sneer on his face. ‘You surprise me, Amy. I never thought you’d care about one of Violet’s kids.’
‘Shows you’ve something to learn then about family feelings, doesn’t it? That was something you never understood,’ she said fiercely. ‘How’s your wife, by the way?’
‘Oh, we’re like two turtle doves. Isn’t that right, Eddie?’ He glanced over his shoulder at his son.
The youth looked startled and said hastily, ‘That’s right. Turtle doves. Those things that coo.’
‘I’m so glad,’ said Amelia, smiling sweetly as she took Rosie’s arm. ‘A word, love, in the back. Irene, you’ll see to Mr Rossiter, won’t you?’
‘Yes, Mrs Hudson,’ said the shop assistant, a mystified expression on her chubby face.
There was a fluttering in the region of Amelia’s heart as she hurried Rosie away. How she wished she had not chosen today of all days to come into the shop. That Eddie! He was almost the spitting image . . . Had Rosie noticed the likeness? She hoped not.
‘What’s the problem?’ said her niece as they entered the stockroom. ‘I know to be on my guard with him.’
‘I just wanted us both away from him. He’s trouble.’
The girl nodded. ‘I felt it today. In the past he’s always been as nice as apple pie to me. Can’t you get Uncle Pete to warn him off?’
‘Let’s keep Peter out of this.’
‘Would he be jealous?’
Amelia leant against some shelving, wondering how much to tell her niece. God knew she needed someone to talk to about it.
‘Mr Rossiter isn’t always a very nice man,’ she said in a low voice. ‘After I ended our engagement, he started sending me letters, pleading ones. As well as that he would cause trouble here in the shop on the days I was in and took to following me home. One sunny afternoon, he caught up with me in an entry and lost control.’ She paused, feeling a sudden tightness in her chest and beads of sweat forming on her forehead and the palms of her hands. The unexpected violence was as real to her today as on that far-off day. She took a shuddering breath. ‘Fortunately or unfortunately,’ she murmured, ‘Peter came along and there was a fight. It was a sheer fluke that Bernard was knocked cold. He’s a big fella, as you’ll have noticed, but he tripped over my foot and hit his head on a wall.’
‘Lucky,’ said Rosie, thinking, Just fell over her foot, my eye! Maybe Chris was right and there was something between her and Uncle Pete. But years ago, not once he was married.
‘Bernard was never the same after that fall. His personality changed and I’ve always wondered if it was down to the bang on the head.’
‘It was nice that Uncle Pete should fight for you,’ Rosie murmured.
Amelia frowned. ‘Tess was my best friend. He did it because of our friendship. But he got pretty knocked about and I wouldn’t like anything like that to happen again. If he knew Bernard was coming into the shop, there could be trouble. So you mustn’t say anything about this to Dotty. She’d tell Chris and then God knows what he’d say to Peter.’
‘You can take my word for it, I won’t be telling them anything. But surely you don’t really think they’d fight again? They’re grown men.’
‘You never know. A man can be like a dog if another dog tries to take his bone.’ Amelia gave a twisted smile, hugging herself. ‘Bernard thinks Peter knocked him out. Now he knows you’re my niece, I want you to be on your guard against him.’
‘I will be, but you don’t really think he’d try and get back at you through me?’
‘I don’t know. Anyway, I’ve said enough.’ Her aunt’s expression was distant. ‘Let’s hope he’s gone by now. Maybe it’s time I stopped ordering from him. Time I stopped feeling guilty and thinking if I hadn’t broken off our engagement—’
‘If Mam hadn’t met Dad,’ said Rosie.
Their eyes met and Amelia gave a faint smile. ‘There’s a lot of ifs in life, Rosie. You’re here because they did meet and I’m glad of that now.’ She squeezed the girl’s shoulder and went into the dispensing room.
Rosie had a lot to think about that evening when she went home, but there was a surprise waiting for her which temporarily drove all that had happened that day to the back of her mind.
‘A parcel’s come for yer from Canada,’ said Maggie from her seat in front of the fire. ‘And there’s a letter from him!’
Knowing that him meant Davey, Rosie pocketed the letter, preferring to read that when she was alone. The parcel was different. She lifted the box on to the table and began painstakingly to undo the string in order to save it. Food wasn’t the only thing in short supply.
‘What d’yer think it is, queen?’ said Walter, peering over her shoulder while puffing on his pipe.
‘It’ll be something we can all enjoy, I’m sure of that,’ said Rosie. And she was right. It was a box of goodies which put a smile even on Maggie’s face. But it was the enclosed letter that was just as welcome to Rosie, although she read its contents with mixed feelings. According to Babs, Sam and Iris were no longer seeing each other.
She says it’s because not everybody wants to take on someone else’s children, but I don’t believe that. I think it’s her. He isn’t as rich as Uncle Bill was. So I don’t know what’s going to happen, whether we’ll stay here or move on. Aunt Iris has mentioned California but me and Harry are feeling homesick. She holds the purse strings, though, so we’ll have to go where she says. But I’ll be ke
eping in touch with Sam’s youngest cousin Wilbur. He’s a nice guy but Aunt Iris says it’s only puppy love. A lot she knows! Maybe she’ll change her mind. She is inclined to do that and then you’ll be seeing us in the New Year. Do you think the grandparents would put up with us?
Rosie determined to get to work on them once Christmas was over. She folded the note and left Maggie and Walter putting the box’s contents away while she went into the parlour to read Davey’s letter. She could almost hear his voice whispering the words of love. She longed to see him. He never mentioned snipers and terrorists but she knew from the newspapers and wireless that although it was almost Christmas, there was no peace and goodwill to all men in the Holy Land. Instead there were curfews and a call for more British troops. What if Davey was killed? How would she cope?
Suddenly, life seemed dark and it was not only the thought of losing him which made her feel like that. Despite the end of the war, on every side there were strikes and shortages and the threat of more power cuts. Even bread was now on ration. She wondered what they would have lived on as children if it had been rationed during the war. Jam butties, chip butties, conny onny butties had filled their hungry little stomachs. Rosie thought of her mother and found herself remembering that last evening in their old home when Violet had click-clacked into the kitchen with a bag of fish and chips and Harry’s birthday present. She had looked so happy. Her mother’s voice seemed to speak in Rosie’s head.
Stop worrying, girl. You should have more faith. Go out and enjoy yourself! What good are you doing Davey, moping around and imagining the worst? Think of all the songs telling you to smile even though your heart is aching! That’s how I managed. You can do it too.
Rosie managed a smile, thinking, yes, that had been her mother’s way of doing things. Crush the dark thoughts down and go out and have fun. There never had been a job working for the government after Joe died. She’d bet a pound to a shilling Violet had been a hostess or waitress in a place where servicemen had gone to relax, and that’s where she had met Sam.
