Rosita stared at the tableau of people, frozen by shock. Then, with a low scream, she left the room. Richard moved then and tried to stop her but she pushed him away from her as if he were unclean. ‘Don’t touch me!’ Somehow she reached the street and getting into Richard’s van, ignoring the wrenching pain in her ankle, she drove to Gull Island. ‘Please be there, Luke,’ she repeated time and again like a mantra.
There was no car parked beside the cottage or behind it. Luke wasn’t there. In her distress she blamed him for not being there, blamed Richard for letting her down and blamed her mother for having a daughter like Hattie, a daughter so like her mother she made the same mistakes as Barbara and dealt with them in the same blundering way.
She sat looking out across the water to the little island that was bedecked with jewels that were in reality her own tears. She drove back to Station Row and left the van beside her Anglia. Richard could come and fetch it but she wouldn’t let him in.
Hearing his footsteps, knowing instinctively it was him, she went to the top of the stairs and waited while he knocked and knocked on the door. He opened the letterbox and shouted through.
‘Rosita! Aren’t you even going to listen to what I have to say?’
No, she said silently. Being on my own is the safest way to live.
She ran a bath, soaked for a while then went to her lonely bed. This, she thought to herself, is all my future holds – work and hours spent alone – but at least it won’t be peppered with heartache.
A knock at the door the following evening started her heart racing, within her a tiny core of hope. Yet she didn’t for one moment consider talking to Richard. She went to the top of the stairs and looked down. A hand came through the flap and waved at her. It was Luke.
‘I’ve brought a gift for your engagement,’ he told her when she opened the door. ‘When will you have the party? A pity it had to be delayed, but if you will go on survival tests in the middle of a storm—’ He saw from her face that something was wrong. ‘Rosita? What is it?’
She told him calmly and without a break in her voice and felt proud of her strength. Instead of sympathy, Luke stared at her in disapproval.
‘You ran off and didn’t even allow him to speak? You saw Hattie and Idris together, didn’t you?’ His voice was low but disapproval was clear. ‘I thought you loved Richard?’
‘I did – I do – but there’s no future for us now. I can’t bear to think of him with that … that creature.’
‘Didn’t it occur to you that she might be lying? You know it was Idris she was having an affair with.’
‘He was one, yes, but how many more? She named Richard.’
‘A single man would be a better bet for her, surely, than a man married with two children and his sister’s husband at that.’
‘He must have been with her or there would be no point in naming him.’
‘You didn’t even ask him.’
‘I panicked.’
‘You’re so afraid to trust people, yet when have your friends let you down? Never!’
‘Hattie is like my mother, callous and uncaring.’
‘We won’t argue that point now, although I can never think of Barbara that way.’ He put down the parcel he carried and took her in his arms. ‘Rosita, you have to start trusting people or your life will be as barren as—’ He almost said the fields of Passchendaele, a thought never far from his mind. ‘Or your life will be barren of happiness and love.’
‘Love makes you vulnerable.’
‘Life without it is a sham. See your mother. Start picking up pieces instead of throwing them away.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Then talk to Richard. Ask yourself who would be the most likely to lie. Richard or Hattie?’ He handed her the gaily wrapped parcel. ‘Open it.’
She did and found a beautiful cut-glass bowl. The light shone on it and it glistened in myriad rainbows.
‘Many facets, all fascinating,’ he said quietly. ‘Like relationships.’ He hugged her. ‘Be careful not to waste too many more years in resentment, Rosita. Time has a terrifying ability to speed along without us being aware of it. Talk to Richard.’ As he left the flat he added, ‘Then talk to your mother.’
Richard’s reaction to the news was to lock himself away from everyone and lose himself in work. He went out chasing new contracts, advertising for extra workmen and interviewing office staff. Then, when he learned that Idris couldn’t account for £300 paid to him by a customer, he sacked him.
His mother thought it was unfairly done, as Idris insisted the money had been taken from his pocket while he fixed a puncture. But Richard refused to listen to him. There was sadistic satisfaction in telling Idris he was useless and a liability.
‘Fine one to talk,’ Idris complained to Monty when he went to collect his things. ‘Him of all people. How d’you think he got started? Stealing! That’s how. Wanted by the police he was, and probably still is!’
He watched the expression on Monty’s face, hoping for anger and shock, but Monty nodded and said, ‘I know all that, Idris. You can’t harm him by spreading that old story. He went to the police years ago and they had nothing on him. They were suspicious at the time though because someone—’ He looked pointedly at Idris ‘—someone reported him and set the police thinking he was guilty. I wonder who that was, Idris? Know anything, do you?’
Idris shrugged and smiled amiably, his innocence an almost convincing act. ‘I didn’t take the money. I put my jacket on the ground and as usual, a crowd gathered – you know what it’s like.’
‘Perhaps, but I don’t think the £300 was the reason Richard asked you to go, do you?’
‘No, he’s been looking for something to whip me with for months. Never wanted me working for him in the first place.’
‘Can you blame him? You’re a lazy bugger, Idris. He’s been overpaying you and you’ve done as little as possible to earn it.’
‘Yes, I suppose I am lazy. I’m fun as well, mind.’ Idris smiled and the wicked amusement in the startlingly blue eyes showed once again how his charm could work wonders.
‘Here’s the address of a friend of mine,’ Monty said. ‘A builder who’s looking for a man to run the stores. It might suit you, no hard work, a bit boring perhaps, but you’ll find ways of dealing with that, won’t you?’
‘Thanks. I’ll get round the boredom. Any good-looking office girls there? With spectacles and long legs?’
‘Don’t start before you even see the place,’ Monty groaned.
Monty told Richard what he’d done and Richard shrugged. ‘It’s up to you. He’s my brother but I don’t think I’d recommend him to anyone I wanted to stay friends with.’
‘I did it because you were unfair. You’ve no proof he took the money.’ Richard looked at him with a raised eyebrow. ‘All right,’ Monty admitted. ‘I did it for Kate. She needs the wages he brings in.’
‘I was glad of an excuse. I wanted him out of here. I can’t look at him without wanting to hit him.’
Idris took the paper with the name and address and when he was interviewed he was given the job. Then the following day a letter arrived telling him he would not, after all, be needed.
‘It’s Richard’s doing! He’s pushed his nose in and got me sacked before I even started!’ he told his mother. ‘I’ll get him for this!’
‘Idris, love, Richard wouldn’t do that.’
‘Wouldn’t he just! And what’s he been saying to my Kate? Kicked me out she has.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Put some clothes in a suitcase and changed the locks on the doors, that’s what she’s done. My case is outside, Mam. I can stay for a few days, until I talk her round, can’t I?’
Idris spent days just lolling around being spoilt by his mother and trying to think of the best way to pay his brother back. In his mind he twisted the facts around in a confusion of truth, daydreams and wild imaginings so that the trouble with Kate, the loss of the job and home, the baby ca
rried by Hattie, were all due to Richard’s interference. Richard and that snooty bitch Rosita. It had all been fine until she had come back into their lives.
After the shop she managed had closed in the evenings, Kate usually went straight home. One morning in late July, when the weather outside was heavy with the threat of thunder, she closed the door and went to see Rosita.
‘Kate! What a nice surprise.’ Rosita smiled as she opened the door of the flat. ‘Stay for something to eat?’
‘No. I’d better get back. I only wanted to tell you I might not be able to get in tomorrow.’
‘Is anything the matter?’ Rosita’s thoughts immediately went to Idris. What trouble was he causing now?
‘I feel rather ill. I’m aching in every joint and my head feels fit to burst.’
‘A few of my customers are ill with a summer flu, I hope you haven’t got that. Look, leave it to me, I’ll find someone to come in. Just have a couple of days in bed and rest quietly.’
‘Thanks. I’m sorry to let you down. I know how awkward it is when one of us is off.’
‘That’s my worry, not yours. Come on, I’ll drive you home.’
When she had finished the routine jobs she did every evening, Rosita sat and thought about Kate’s words. She was vulnerable with just the minimum staff and three shops and a kiosk to run. If someone was ill there were a few people who would step in, but the whole thing was dangerously fragile. And what about herself? How long did she want to go on working twelve hours at the school shop, only to come up to more work?
She took her thoughts to bed and with a notebook on her knees began to work out the finances of a complete change to the running of her businesses. Not the least of her priorities was the thought that if she and Richard ever got back together, she had to make herself free to spend time with him.
Since the announcement by Hattie that Richard was the father of her unborn child, she and Richard had hardly met. When they did come face to face, usually at his mother’s home, they spoke like strangers, neither giving or taking an inch. After several embarrassing and upsetting confrontations, Rosita avoided calling on Mrs Carey when it was likely that he’d be there.
Idris was pleasant when they met and treated her to a friendly welcome. He even went back to the school shop to repair plaster around a window after Rosita mentioned it to Mrs Carey – a job he had attempted twice before. For Auntie Molly Carey’s sake, she responded to him in the same manner. She didn’t want to risk upsetting Mrs Carey, the only one in her life, beside Luke, she felt able to love.
It had been several weeks before she felt able to ask the whereabouts of Hattie.
‘Given up her job and gone to stay with your mam,’ Mrs Carey told her. ‘Best for her to be miles away, after what she did to us.’
‘Her and Richard,’ Rosita reminded her.
‘Well, yes indeed. And there’s my poor Idris. He’s in the wrong too, mind, but there, she must have led him on, her staying in that house when we were away, not going to Weston like she told us. Wicked girl she is.’
‘Hattie stayed with Idris all that week?’ Rosita was startled at the casually stated remark.
‘Like I said, she’s a wicked girl. Cancelled her holiday and stayed there with Idris and him not strong against temptation, being a man an’ all.’
‘Yet Hattie said Richard was … responsible. Can she have been lying?’
‘I think we’ll have salad tonight, too hot for anything more. Or shall we be lazy and go for some fish and chips? Stay and eat with us, fach. Richard and Idris will be back soon. Idris went for a job today. In Cardiff it is. I hope he doesn’t get it, mind – better off staying in your home town I always think.’ Mrs Carey’s chatter showed her determination not to discuss Idris and Hattie any further.
Idris and Hattie alone in the house while Kate and the children were in London? For a whole week? It was impossible to believe that Idris was not responsible for Hattie’s condition. The scene she had witnessed was hardly mild flirting. And Richard had hinted at knowing something too. Shame for her instant rejection of Richard flooded through her, chasing other thoughts trying to escape. Somehow she had to face Richard, and say she was sorry, and ask him for another chance.
She put off the meeting, wondering whether to write or phone, or simply go and see him at work. Days passed and to avoid making a decision she worked on the new set-up for her business. Kate was still off work and having a temporary manager in the Station Row shop meant extra hours each evening dealing with the accounts and the ordering and the thousand things Kate did so efficiently.
Then Betty Sweeny in The Kiosk rang to say she was ill and unable to work. Trying the usual people who helped on occasions, she failed to find someone to take over. In desperation she rang Richard. She wished she had spoken to him earlier instead of contacting him to ask for help. Why had she delayed?
‘What is it, Rosita?’ His voice gave no hint of pleasure at her call.
Making her voice as formal as possible, fighting back the longing to see him, she said coolly, ‘Several of my staff are ill with this summer flu and I wondered if you can think of anyone who might help.’
‘Oh, business, is it? I’ll put you on to Monty.’ Without further word he passed the phone to his friend.
‘Monty, I’m sorry to worry you with this, but I have a problem trying to find someone to open the kiosk tomorrow. You don’t know anyone who might help, do you?’
‘Let me have a think,’ he said.
‘There’s a part-timer who will help but I desperately need someone for the afternoons.’
‘I think I have an idea.’ He asked how she was, whether her ankle was now sound and warned her to be careful not to catch the flu, then rang off. She replaced the phone with a feeling of dread. Richard would never forgive her, not now. She couldn’t remember a word of what Monty had said.
A young woman phoned an hour later and explained that she was a neighbour of Monty’s and she had worked in a newsagents before. They met, liked each other and, with Monty’s recommendation too, she thankfully accepted her help. The phone rang again, this time from someone else saying she had the flu and she too would be unable to get to work.
Running between one shop and another to deal with the busy periods and help the inexperienced staff, she somehow survived the next ten days. By that time, she had also made her preparations to ensure that such a situation never happened again.
The money from her grandmother, Mrs Stock, was a safety net and she silently thanked the proud old lady for her generosity. What a pity she hadn’t been kind until after her death. A little friendliness earlier would have meant a more contented and fulfilled end to her days. Why didn’t I break down the old lady’s barrier of pride while I had the chance to give something in return? she grieved. But the money had been a wonderful gift, giving her the chance to put right the weaknesses in her widely expanding business.
When Kate returned to work in August, the middle of the busy holiday period, Rosita asked her if she would accept overall responsibility for the shops. ‘Each of the shops will have a manager, and you will oversee the whole chain,’ she explained. ‘And by the end of the year there might be another. I have my eye on a small kiosk that’s worth considering. Will you come with me when I go and look at it?’
They discussed the plan and agreed that two part-time assistants for each shop, plus a couple of casuals, would give them some overlap should illness again disrupt the businesses.
‘As soon as everything is running satisfactorily, perhaps I’ll take a holiday,’ Rosita said. With Richard if I can persuade him, she added silently. But where to start? If they weren’t speaking, how could he be persuaded to try again? Why had her first call after weeks of silence been to ask for his help? It would make convincing him that much harder.
Chapter Seventeen
CIGARETTES WENT UP by one penny on a packet of twenty in August and although the price of matches didn’t alter, the number of matches in a box was reduced
. As usual there were the regular grumbles about depriving the working man of his pleasures, but the complaints faded and the increases were soon forgotten.
Although they moaned at first, none refused to buy, Rosita thought wryly. Men, and an increasing number of women, would always find the money for what they wanted. She was different; spending as little as possible and sinking every penny back into the growing business was such a habit, she wondered with some sadness if she was still capable of enjoying herself like most people.
There was certainly more money circulating now, she noticed. Luxuries were being snapped up more quickly and her stock took advantage of the fact that things like fountain pens and lighters, that had been impossible to find during the war years, were being offered by enthusiastic reps.
How fortunate she had been to start in business just as the gloom and austerity of wartime was beginning to ease – even if she couldn’t take advantage of the foreign holidays and better clothes that were coming into the shops. Since clothes rationing had ended in 1949, people were becoming more fashion-conscious and, although always smartly dressed, she felt she was being left behind.
Sweets were still rationed, but other shortages were easing. Newsprint scarcity had kept newspapers limited to a few pages through the war and the forties, but now papers and magazines were thicker and new periodicals appeared at intervals. The new comic, the all-colour TV Comic, which cost fourpence, quickly became a favourite, with Muffin the Mule, Mr Pastry, and Prudence Kitten.
Television was the new craze and while people were still complaining about lack of money, more and more houses were sprouting the large H aerials on their roof. Perhaps soon she would be able to ease restrictions on herself and treat herself as a reward for her endeavours. A holiday, perhaps? She sighed and went to straighten the magazines on the counter. Perhaps. But not yet.
Christmas seemed to come earlier each year and by the end of September some shops were already starting to show small, almost apologetic displays of cards. Rosita was negotiating to take over her second kiosk. It too was near a school, this time in Beach Street not far from the Careys’. There was a public house close by and a fairly large bus stop. Like the others it was run down but she could see the potential, once she had put her mark of excellence on it. There was something else: now her sisters knew who she was, there was no reason not to put her name on the shops. Over each of the premises would be the name:
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