Gracie's Sin

by Freda Lightfoot

  Wiping tears of joy from her eyes, Lou said, ‘You should go on the stage Adam. You’d do well as Banquo’s ghost, you really would. You certainly scared the pants off us.’

  ‘Lou, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Stop saying that. We forgive you. Sit down and have a cup of tea.’

  Gracie was examining his expression with more sober attention. ‘What is it Adam? What are you sorry about, exactly?’

  Then he held something out towards Lou. It was a telegram. The scream which went up this time, chilled them all to the bones.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Gordon’s ship had been listed as missing. Whether it had been sunk or was simply hit and limping home, nobody had any idea at this stage. Lou left with Adam that very night. He drove her straight to Ulverston railway station where she caught the next train to Liverpool. Gordon’s mother was in Liverpool and wanted Lou with her, for support.

  ‘I’m sure he’ll come home safe and sound in the end,’ Adam said, handing up her overnight bag and closing the carriage door.

  Lou didn’t answer. Something had happened to her throat and not a sound would come out of it. A shout went up, a whistle blew, the train jerked, rattling all the carriages together as it puffed out great clouds of steam, just as that other train had done, so long ago. A lifetime ago. Gordon’s face was emerging out of the smoke. Lou could see him waving from the platform, shouting something to her.

  No, it couldn’t be Gordon. Gordon was still at sea. It was Adam. She really must close her eyes for a moment and get some sleep. Maybe then she could sort out these jumbled thoughts into some sort of order in her head. Make sense of them. The carriage was packed but Lou found a gap and wedged herself between a woman with a baby on her knee, and a sleeping sailor, his mouth gaping open in a loud snore. Poor lad must be exhausted to sleep through all this din. Gordon must be pretty exhausted too, she thought, after all these months at sea. He’d be glad to be home again. Lou closed her eyes, certain that when she woke, and found his mum waiting for her on Lime Street Station, they’d dash over to the Pool and find Gordon’s ship would already have docked.

  Later that Sunday afternoon Rose was expecting a visitor, one for whom she had some rather special news. She felt quite happy about it, even excited. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

  As usual, he took her for a drive into the heart of the Lakes, found a quiet country inn and booked them in as Mr and Mrs Brown. It seemed to amuse him to use such an obvious name as subterfuge.

  Rose held on to her secret until after they’d made love, nursing it as a delighted surprise which she meant to offer him as a treat, like dessert. As she spoke the words, she smiled softly, the all-knowing smile of a maturing woman on a face which still held the sweet innocence of youth.

  He stared down at her where she lay, wild dark curls haloed about her lovely, childlike face, her lustrous skin gleaming like gold against the white sheets. Then he pushed himself away from her, a stunned dismay writ clear on his ruggedly handsome features. ‘Hey, you’re joking me, right?’

  Rose blinked, and a small frown blurred her smooth brow. ‘You are pleased, aren’t you? I mean, you don’t mind, do you Josh?’ A worm of uncertainty unfurled in her stomach and, as she reached out to smooth a hand over his cheek, he jerked his head away. Still she couldn’t quite believe he was truly angry. ‘I know it’s a bit of a shock at first, but these things happen all the time, and it’s not as if we weren’t planning to get married anyway.’

  ‘Married?’ Even Rose couldn’t be unaware of the surprise in his tone.

  She swallowed the painful constriction which had come into her throat and ploughed on, remorselessly optimistic. ‘You’ve said over and over how much I’ll enjoy Canada. Maybe I could go out there now, stay with your parents or some other relatives till the war’s over. Not that I mind, if it isn’t possible yet for me to go. I can wait for you here. At least I’ll have something of you when you have to go overseas again.’ She knew she was babbling, but didn’t seem able to stop.

  He flung back the sheets and, leaping from the bed, began to pace about the room. He looked so strong and athletic in his white shorts Rose felt her stomach clench with fresh need. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. ‘Josh?’

  He was flapping his hands at her, as if he’d really like to waft her away and make her vanish. ‘Hey, I never expected you to find yourself up the duff. I thought you used something, a sponge, a douche. God, I don’t know. Something! Hell, why didn’t I use a rubber johnny? I must’ve been mad. Bewitched. All that talk about you liking Canada. Sure, anybody would love Canada. It’s a great country. But marriage? Naw, I don’t recall saying anything on that subject, Hon.’

  Rose became very still, then slowly sat up in the bed so that she could give better attention to his puzzling response. Josh didn’t seem to understand. She told him, quite calmly, that there really was no need to panic, that she would be perfectly all right. ‘I’m not in the least concerned, and there’s no reason why you should be either.’

  He stood by the window, his manly body, which she loved so much, appropriately framed against the majesty of mountains beyond. As she smiled at him, he seemed to sag with relief. ‘Hell, I’m sure glad you’re gonna take this attitude. For a minute, you had me real worried. Marriage just ain’t gonna happen, Hon. It can’t.’ He came and sat beside her, stroking her arms, her shoulders, her breast, as he carefully explained. But the words didn’t make sense. Rose was forced to ask him to repeat them, to make sure that she’d heard correctly.

  He playfully tweaked her nose. ‘Hey, you know I would marry you, if I could. You and me have had fun, right? I love you, sweetheart. You’re a doll. But back home, I gotta wife already, OK? And three kids. So there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, Hon, not with the best will in the world.’

  Summer was fading and September was almost upon them but Rose told no one. The shame was too enormous. Nor did she cry or feel sorry for herself. She longed to hate Josh but couldn’t seem able to even manage that. She’d fallen in love. Where was the sin in that? Josh Wilton just happened to be unavailable. She’d stupidly assumed he was, without properly checking. It was all abundantly clear to her now that no promise of marriage had actually been made. She’d simply taken it for granted, in her youthful naivety, that it would naturally follow their lovemaking. How stupid can you get!

  Sometimes Rose hated being so young. Why couldn’t one be born old and wise at birth, and then grow into youth when one was ready for it. That would be much more sensible, and so much less painful.

  She’d held on to her pride at least. She hadn’t shouted, or screamed, or cried. She’d remained amazingly calm, simply got up, dressed and insisted that he take her home right away, which he’d gladly done. He drove quickly back along the lanes to the Eagle’s Head as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. They'd parted as friends, at least on the surface. All the way home Josh had continued to be as full of good cheer and bonhomie as he normally was. He’d offered her money, which Rose had accepted. She was no fool, she told herself. Not entirely, anyway. She would need cash when the baby came and, in her estimation, taking money from him wouldn’t in any way threaten her independence.

  But then he’d said, ‘You do what you think best.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that I use this money to get rid of it?’

  ‘Use it however you like, Hon.’

  ‘But that’s what you’d prefer?’

  ‘Hey! Not my decision. I’ll send you some more, soon as I can. You keep in touch, OK?’

  Rose had managed to nod, even gave him the smallest glimmer of a smile as he’d jumped back into his jeep, and, with a screech of tyres, driven off up the lane and vanished in a cloud of dust. She very much doubted that she’d ever see or hear from him again.

  In that moment, Rose realised that her calmness arose from the fact that she wasn’t in the least surprised by the way he’d reacted. It was almost as if she’d been half expecting this to happen; as if she’d k
nown all along that something always did go wrong for her. First her parents dying, just when she needed them most, then Eddie bullying her and telling her how he wasn’t really her brother at all. Her precious Tizz being killed and, last and by no means least, the assault by Agnes, whom she’d admittedly found slightly odd, but automatically trusted because she was a woman.

  But I can cope, she told herself. I shall survive this problem, as I did all the rest. No matter what. She’d trusted too many people in the past, all of whom had let her down one way or another. Hadn’t she resolved to be utterly ruthless; to think only of herself? She should never have been so foolish as to fall in love, or trust in anyone, ever again. She really must learn to protect herself more, to use people to her own advantage as people had used her, then she would be safe. And so would her child.

  Having settled the matter in her mind to her own satisfaction, for the moment at least, and feeling rather at a loose end, she decided to call upon Gracie and see if she had any news of Lou. They could go for a walk together, or sit and chat in the garden. Anything would be better than sitting alone with all these private worries weighing her down. She knew the cottage where they lived, a mile or two from the village, although she’d never, so far, called. This lovely summer evening seemed as good a time as any and the walk might do her good.

  As was the custom in these parts, she went around to the back door of Beech Tree Cottage, knocked and without waiting to be invited, walked straight in. She was surprised to find the kitchen occupied, not by Irma, nor by Gracie but by a half naked man.

  ‘Gosh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I should’ve waited.’ But she didn’t retreat. She watched with fascinated interest as Adam reached for the towel and began to rub it down over his face and chest. Rose closed the door behind her and flickered her eyelashes provocatively up at him. She really couldn’t resist flirting, and he was quite dishy. ‘Though I don’t mind, if you don’t.’

  Laughing, he shrugged into a shirt. ‘Sorry, I was having a good scrub in the tin bath. I’ve seen you around. It’s so hot and dusty, it’s a real nuisance not being allowed to bathe more than once a week.’

  ‘And no more than two inches, don’t forget.’ Rose said, her gaze roaming brazenly over him.

  ‘What good is two inches to anyone? Government regulations are fine for those who work in offices but for those of us who do physical labour, or work on the land, it’s a nightmare, don’t you find? I never feel clean.’

  ‘You look fine to me.’ Rose was taking in the glistening beauty of his muscled torso and imagining how much more entrancing it would have been if she’d interrupted him lathering himself in that ancient tin bath. Now that might have been very interesting indeed. In her misery, it hadn’t occurred to her that she might fancy other men besides Josh. Now, out of the blue, it did. What’s more, she could tell, by the way he was looking at her, that he really found her quite attractive. Rose suddenly saw that life might not be too awful after all. That even if Josh did intend to stay married to his dull wife in Canada, there might be other possibilities worth exploring. One which could be adapted to her advantage.

  There was a short silence, then Adam said, ‘You’re one of Lou’s squad, aren’t you? Were you wanting Gracie? She’s out with Mam. They’ve taken some salvage over to the parish hall. You know the sort of thing, battered saucepans, kettles, tin cans and jelly moulds. If you’ve anything metal, Mam’ll have it off you. They’ll be back soon, I expect.’ He paused, as if to catch his breath. ‘Assuming she doesn’t send Gracie off to pick rosehips or blackberries for more jam. For the vitamin C you know.’ He laughed. ‘You never can tell what scheme my mam has in hand.’

  They both laughed and the tension between them lightened a little. Adam had buttoned up his shirt, now he turned around so that he could tuck it in his trousers, then swung quickly back again with a small smile. Rose grinned. ‘I can always call again.’ Yet she didn’t move. She simply stood there, gazing boldly up at him, waiting.

  Adam cleared his throat somewhat noisily, and then surprised himself by saying, ‘I was about to make myself a bit of supper. Only spam fritters, I’m afraid, but I’m rather partial to them. Would you care to join me?’

  ‘I adore spam fritters.’ Rose had never eaten them in her life.

  ‘Great!’

  They worked together on the dish, Rose slicing the spam nice and thinly, Adam mixing the flour and water into a thick batter, tossing in a bit of powdered egg for extra flavour. In no time they were laughing and joking together, flicking flour off Rose’s nose and splattering globules of batter all over Irma’s clean cooker. Rose cut the bread and spread it sparingly with margarine. Then she searched out a freshly laundered tablecloth and laid the table by the window of the tiny living room, brewed a pot of tea and even brought a few Michaelmas daisies out of the garden to put in a jar as a table decoration. And all the while, Adam set her mouth watering from the delicious aroma of frying fritters, hissing and spitting in the pan.

  They sat facing each other, a shaft of early evening sunshine lighting Adam’s fair hair, already bleached by the sun, to a pale gold. Rose knew that he’d been seeing Gracie, taking her out to the pictures and fancied her rotten. But all was fair in love and war. Wasn’t that what they said? You had to watch out for number one in this world. Hadn’t she learned that much at least? She gazed upon him for a long moment, fork poised, studying the perfection of his profile, the way his light brown curls fell forward over his brow, before sliding the food thoughtfully into her mouth. ‘This is delicious. I’ve never tasted anything quite so good.’

  Adam returned her gaze, studying her piquant beauty as he wiped a dribble of fat from her full soft mouth with the heel of his thumb. He smiled. ‘My pleasure.’

  They talked little as they ate, but when every plate was empty they both sank back with contented sighs, feeling bloated and replete. ‘I shall never be hungry again,’ Rose intoned, imitating Vivien Leigh’s southern drawl from Gone With the Wind, and they both burst out laughing.

  ‘I’ve seen you around, from a distance, of course. But why have we never met properly before?’ Adam asked, his gaze warm and admiring.

  ‘I don’t know. Why haven’t we?’

  He reached for her hand and Rose let him clasp it in his own. His grasp was firm and strong, which she rather liked. She gave him the other and he pulled her gently towards him across the table.

  The kitchen door burst open and Irma breezed in, basket dangling on her plump arm. ‘Hello love, I’m home. What do you think Mrs ...’ She stopped short, taking in the scene in one swift, appraising glance. Rose, so comfortably ensconced at the table; her best Irish linen cloth, upon which Irma had personally embroidered every stitch, lying stained with crumbs and spotted with fat beneath their joined hands. Her son’s riveted gaze remained fixed upon that little madam’s face. Irma could tell, by the brazen way in which she returned the poor boy’s besotted glances, that the chit was no better than she should be. A brazen hussy if ever there was one.

  Unable to disguise the expression of startled disapproval which she knew to be compressing her mouth and pinking her rouged cheeks to a deeper madder, Irma floundered uncomfortably for something sensible to say which wouldn’t alarm Adam, or put him on the defensive. Young men could be so tricky. The last thing she must do was to be openly critical, or he’d start to champion the lass. ‘Oh,’ she said, adopting a pseudo pleasant tone. Her social voice, as Adam termed it. ‘I didn’t realise we had company.’

  ‘This is Rose.’

  ‘Ah yes, I’ve heard all about Rose. One of the Timber Girls who works with our lodgers, Gracie and Lou. Isn’t that right?’

  ‘That’s right. We’re old friends. I knew them back in Cornwall.’ Rose somehow felt the need to make this claim, perhaps due to the hostility she read so plainly in Irma’s gaze, which she couldn’t quite comprehend. ‘I hope it was all to the good, whatever it was they told you about me. A girl’s got to watch her reputation these days.’
She gave a bright little laugh, then winked at Adam.

  Irma acknowledged the gesture as confirmation of her worst fears.

  A small silence followed, during which Adam and Rose didn’t move from their places at the table, while Irma stood stolidly beside them, saying nothing but glaring with such astonishing severity that even Rose could take no more.

  ‘I'd best be off. See if I can find them.’ She jumped up and reached for her cardigan which she’d slung over a chair. Adam got there before her to drape it tenderly about her shoulders.

  ‘I’ll walk you to the door.’

  ‘I’m sure she can find her own way out.’ Irma tartly remarked. She’d still made no effort to unpin her hat, or put down the loaded basket. Adam took it from her. Set it carefully on the table.

  ‘I’m sure she can, but I’ll walk with her anyway. In fact, I might walk along to the village with her. A breath of fresh air would do me good after all that food.’

  ‘I don’t think so, son. I was wanting you to do a job or two for me.’

  He hesitated. ‘Can’t it wait? I won’t be long. An hour or so at most.’

  Irma flopped down into her chair with a heavy sigh. ‘Oh well, if you’ve no time to spare for your weary old mam, I understand. It was only that I’ve all this stuff to collect and sort out, but don’t worry. I shouldn’t imagine there’s anything too heavy for me to carry. I can manage.’

  ‘But does it have to be done right now? Tonight? I mean, it isn’t being collected tomorrow, is it?’

  ‘Huh! Just like a man to think it can all be done at the last minute. Salvage takes time to sort through, you know. And all the rubbish they give you, well, it makes for a lot of work.’ Irma sighed again, and with a plump hand that noticeably trembled with fatigue, began to unpin her hat.