V for Violet
Page 24
Poor Norma. I was wrong about her being pregnant. She was just terrified of her husband. Six years married and he never had sex with her. And she was too proud and too ashamed to ever say anything. She always knew there was something not right. But she never, in her worst nightmare, dreamt it would be anything like this. She’s moved back home for the time being. Sharing my room. I cuddle her in the night when she starts to shake and cry. We all thought she was really going to lose it. Especially when they found the body of the fourth girl, and it was someone she worked with at Fine Fare. Well, she did lose it at first. But she’s surprised us all. It’s like she’s getting some of her fizz back. Little by little, day by day. She’s more angry than anything else. And I think that’s a good thing.
The churchyard’s gone quiet now. The vicar is starting the sermon. I look up at Joseph, standing next to me, and slip my hand into his. He never left my bedside when I was in hospital. We talked and talked and we haven’t stopped since. I told him things are changing. People don’t think like they used to any more. I told him it was about time he stopped hiding away. It was time he stopped being a coward. I told him that I know loads of brilliant stuff. And one of the things I know is that the world always needs a hero. Someone to change things. Someone to lead the way. Someone to help change people’s minds.
I’m meeting Alain tomorrow. And I can’t wait.
The vicar’s voice rises above our heads.
May the road rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
And the rains fall soft upon your fields.
Until we meet again.
Author Note
Reproduced below is a letter that I stumbled upon when I was searching for stories from soldiers who had deserted during the Second World War, and before I really knew what this book was going to be about. It really touched me and I kept coming back to it again and again. It proved to be my inspiration to write about gay love in the 1960s, about the war, about desertion, about choices and about Joseph and Beau and Violet. It was written by an American Second World War veteran called Brian Keith to Dave, a fellow soldier he met and fell in love with while stationed in North Africa in 1943. It was reprinted in the September 1961 edition of ONE magazine – a groundbreaking pro-gay publication.
Dear Dave
This is in memory of an anniversary – the anniversary of October 27th, 1943, when I first heard you singing in North Africa. That song brings memories of the happiest times I’ve ever known. Memories of a GI show troop – curtains made from barrage balloons – spotlights made from cocoa cans – rehearsals that ran late into the evenings – and a handsome boy with a wonderful tenor voice. Opening night at a theatre in Canastel – perhaps a bit too much muscatel, and someone who understood. Exciting days playing in the beautiful and stately Municipal Opera House in Oran – a misunderstanding – an understanding in the wings just before opening chorus.
Drinks at ‘Coq d’or’ – dinner at the Auberge – a ring and promise given. The show for 1st Armoured – muscatel, scotch, wine – someone who had to be carried from the truck and put to bed in his tent. A night of pouring rain and two very soaked GIs beneath a solitary tree on an African plain. A borrowed French convertible – a warm sulphur spring, the cool Mediterranean and a picnic of ‘rations’ and hot cokes. Two lieutenants who were smart enough to know the score but not smart enough to realise we wanted to be alone. A screwball piano player – competition – miserable days and lonely nights. The cold, windy night we crawled through the window of a GI theatre and fell asleep on a cot backstage, locked in each other’s arms. The shock when we awoke and realised that miraculously we hadn’t been discovered. A fast drive to a cliff above the sea – pictures taken and a stop amid the purple grapes and cool leaves of a vineyard.
The happiness when told we were going home – and the misery when we learned we would not be going together. Fond goodbyes on a secluded beach beneath the star-studded velvet of an African night, and the tears that would not be stopped as I stood atop the sea-wall and watched your convoy disappear over the horizon.
We vowed we’d be together again ‘back home,’ but fate knew better – you never got there. And so, Dave, I hope that wherever you are these memories are as precious to you as they are to me.
Goodnight. Sleep well, my love.
Brian Keith
Alison Rattle
Alison grew up in Liverpool, and now lives in a medieval house in Somerset with her three teenage children, her husband – a carpenter – an extremely naughty Jack Russell and a ghost cat. She has co-authored a number of non-fiction titles on subjects as diverse as growing old, mad monarchs, how to boil a flamingo, the history of America and the biography of a nineteenth-century baby killer. She has worked as a fashion designer, a production controller, a painter and decorator, a barmaid, and now owns and runs a vintage tea room. Alison has also published three previous YA novels with Hot Key Books – The Quietness, The Madness and The Beloved. Follow Alison at www.alisonrattle.com or on Twitter: @alisonrattle
ALSO BY ALISON RATTLE …
When Queenie escapes from the squalid slums of nineteenth-century London to become a maid, she has no idea about the dangers of the dark world into which she is about to become embroiled. She soon comes to realise that something is very wrong with the dozens of strangely silent babies being ‘adopted’ into the household … and when lonely Ellen comes to the house, the girls’ lives soon become irrevocably and tragically entwined.
When Marnie develops a passion for charming and handsome Noah, it threatens to consume her. How can love between a cripple and a son of a lord ever become a reality? As Marnie’s infatuation turns to fixation she starts to lose her grip on reality, and a harrowing and dangerous obsession develops that seems certain to end in tragedy …
Alice Angel has known only a life of rules, restriction and punishments as she strays from the rigid path of Victorian propriety that her mother has set out for her. After a chance encounter with a charming stranger, and narrowly escaping being condemned to the madhouse, Alice sees her opportunity to run and grasps it with both hands. But she runs straight into the clutches of a mysterious religious sect, and an apparently charming man called Prince. Instead of freedom, is Alice in fact more trapped, alone and in danger than ever before?
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First published in Great Britain in 2016 by
HOT KEY BOOKS
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Copyright © Alison Rattle, 2016
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
The right of Alison Rattle to be identified as Author of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN: 978-1-4714-0382-8
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Hot Key Books is an imprint of Bonnier Publishing Fiction, a Bonnier Publishing company
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