by Maggie Hope
Jeff and Rose, with Aunt Elsie accompanying them, entered the children’s ward a couple of hours later.
‘It’s not visiting hours, you know,’ said Sister, looking severely at them over her spectacles. ‘And it’s not as though either of the children is on the critical list.’
‘Well, thank God for that,’ breathed Jeff. ‘Anyone would think it would be better if they –’
‘What?’ Sister glanced at him suspiciously and he smiled beguilingly.
‘I mean, it’s great news, Sister.’
‘Oh, please,’ begged Elsie. ‘Please, I haven’t seen them since the accident.’
This is the aunt Mary was fretting for,’ Rose put in swiftly. Sister pursed her lips. ‘Oh, well, just for a few minutes then. Only two of you, mind. No more than two visitors at once. But it’s almost time for Matron’s round. If she comes you’ll have to go.’
‘I’ll wait outside,’ said Jeff.
It had been worth it, thought Rose as she saw Mary’s face when Auntie Elsie walked into the ward. Worth putting her own resentment behind her, putting the children first yet again.
‘Auntie Elsie!’ cried Mary, sitting up in the bed and holding out her arms to her aunt. And Elsie had clasped the child to her, hugging and kissing her until Sister spoke disapprovingly from the doorway.
‘Mary Sharpe! You must lie down, how many times have I told you?’ And reluctantly Mary did as she was told.
‘See, Auntie Elsie, my arm’s in a sling. I can’t move it, I hurt it, but the doctor says –’
Auntie Elsie was ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ and nodding her head as Mary’s words tumbled over each other in her haste to tell her tale. Rose smiled and turned to Michael’s bed. He was awake, pale and fragile-looking but awake and smiling even.
‘Did you see the cows, Rose?’ he asked quietly, his smile widening. ‘I wasn’t frightened of them at all. I wasn’t, honest, Rose.’ His brows knitted for an instant. ‘How did we get there?’ he asked. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘Oh, never mind, pet,’ she replied and kissed him gently on the cheek, taking his thin wrist in her hand. He was growing up, she thought suddenly. His face wasn’t a duplicate of his sister’s any more but a proper boy’s face.
‘When I’m big I’m going to be a farmer,’ he told her. ‘We’ve been reading all about farms in school and I wrote a composition. I got a star an’ all, did Auntie Elsie tell you?’
Rose looked across at the other bed. Elsie was perched on the side of it now, one hand on Mary’s dark hair. Elsie was unable to contain her happiness, couldn’t stop herself from smiling, almost laughing when she spoke.
‘I haven’t had time yet, son,’ she said. ‘But I was going to, I’m so proud of you.’
‘And me too,’ put in Mary.
‘And you too,’ agreed Auntie Elsie, laughing outright, and Rose laughed too, their eyes meeting over the beds in perfect understanding.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to go now,’ said Sister and Mary began to whimper. Elsie bent over the bed and brushed her lips across the little girl’s cheek.
‘I’m coming back this afternoon at two o’clock,’ she whispered. ‘Will I bring Rosalie?’
‘You won’t forget, will you?’ Mary asked anxiously and lay back on her pillow, satisfied when Aunt Elsie assured her she wouldn’t. ‘You too, Rose? You’ll come, won’t you?’
‘I will.’
As the two women walked down the corridor, Rose asked, ‘Who’s Rosalie?’
‘A doll. I bought it for her when she was crying for you last year,’ Elsie added, looking sideways at her niece.
I’ve missed a huge slice from the children’s lives, Rose thought sadly. But the sadness slipped away quickly enough. There was no place for it today.
Jeff had gone outside to wait. It was marvellous, he thought, how kind and understanding nurses could be with relatives when the patient was seriously ill yet how distant and forbidding when there was no danger. He’d noticed it before. He leaned against the wall and whistled softly, an old tune from the war, ‘We’ll Meet Again’. The rain which had threatened in the early morning had moved on. The air was fresh and cold but dry and full of promise.
He felt supremely happy, remembering Rose in the hotel during the night, how loving and generous she had been, his lovely lass. And now the twins, the children she had sacrificed so much to protect, were out of danger, and things were at last going their way. Even the clouds were dispersing, it would be a sunny afternoon. It would be great in the front room this afternoon, just him and Rose. The room faced south-west and would be filled with sunshine and they would sit close together on the couch and talk about the future which stretched ahead of them, the lovely future.
They would get married as soon as possible. Why wait? Rose needn’t come back to Hartlepool at all, he was earning enough for them both. And the twins too if need be.
Jeff was distracted by a figure in a white coat coming out of the door opposite. Of course, it was that same doctor who always seemed to be about, he didn’t know why. But it didn’t matter, he could hear footsteps behind him, Rose was coming, Rose and her aunt. They could go home now, start their future.
‘Bob!’
They stood for a moment, a tableau of four, looking at each other. It was Rose who spoke first. ‘Bob, I’m sorry I missed you yesterday evening.’
‘That’s all right, think nothing of it,’ he replied, unsmiling, his whole body stiff. ‘I’m glad you found your friends.’ He made to move on but she put one hand on his arm.
‘No, wait a minute. Please, Bob.’ And he looked down into her great dark eyes, seeing the concern in them. ‘I want to tell you, explain …’
‘No need.’
‘Yes, there is,’ she insisted. ‘We’ve been visiting the twins. I couldn’t meet you yesterday because of the accident.’ Beside her, Aunt Elsie looked puzzled. She had seen this doctor before, she was sure of it. Jeff too was puzzled but the male in him recognised a rival. He was aware without being told that this man loved his Rose. He stepped closer to her, put an arm around her shoulders, showing in the age-old way that she was his. But Rose seemed to want to speak to him.
‘Oh, you mean the car accident?’ Bob was startled into asking. ‘That was your father? Oh!’
‘Yes. He was killed,’ she said, and glanced up at Jeff who was waiting, very still now, wanting to know what this was all about. ‘Bob, this is my fiancé. I just met him again yesterday.’
‘But I thought – Oh, well, never mind what I thought.’ He gazed at Rose with Jeff’s arm still around her shoulders. So obviously in love they were and his hope died. He began to walk away from them, backwards. ‘I … er … I have to go now. I … I’m sure you’ll both be very happy,’ he said and disappeared into a ward.
‘Who is that, Rose?’ asked Jeff. ‘He came to the house yesterday, spoke to Marina. I was in a hurry to get to Shotton so I didn’t wait to see what he wanted.’
‘He was a good friend when I needed one,’ she answered softly. ‘One day I’ll tell you all about it. But not now, Jeff, not today.’ They walked on in the sunshine, holding hands, Aunt Elsie walking quietly behind them. She spoke once in the car.
‘We have the funeral to think of, Rose.’
‘I can’t think of it, Aunt Elsie,’ Rose replied sadly. ‘I just can’t.’
‘Well, I was his sister. I’ll see to it.’
So Alf Sharpe was laid to rest in the cemetery at Jordan after a brief service in an almost empty chapel and only Elsie, his sister, wept for him. Rose was reluctant to go.
‘You must,’ insisted her aunt. ‘He was your father.’
‘Well, maybe you should have reminded him of that fact,’ Rose replied. So hard and bitter she sounded, Jeff thought, not at all like his Rose. He had done all the running about in preparation for the funeral, collecting the coroner’s report and the death certificate, arranging the ceremony with the minister, the memory of his grandmother’s funeral returning to haunt
him. Not that he could speak of his grandmother in the same breath as that man …
‘You must go, Rose,’ he’d said when they were alone. ‘The children too. They must be allowed to think of him as … as …’
‘Normal?’ she asked acidly. But he was right, she knew it, and so for the sake of the twins she attended the ceremony and, surprisingly, felt her heart soften towards the dead man as she gazed at his coffin standing at the front of the chapel. She held Mary’s hand and the little girl cried because her auntie was crying but Michael stood as straight as a soldier and dry-eyed.
The chapel was almost empty. Alf had lost any friends he had had in the early days. It was a sad end.
The wedding was to be held at the Methodist Church in Easington Colliery at 3 p.m. on the Saturday after Christmas. There were only a handful of guests invited. After all, both bride and groom had been brought up on the other side of the county, Easington was a new beginning for them. Jeff’s grandmother had been his last relative. And Rose had only her Aunt Elsie and the twins.
The morning of the wedding, Rose sat at the dressing table in the spare bedroom of Marina and Brian’s home, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. She could hardly believe it was actually happening. Marina stood behind her, brushing her dark, lustrous hair into shining waves before pinning on the circlet of pearls and satin leaves which held the gauzy veil.
‘It was good of you to lend me your dress and everything,’ Rose murmured.
‘Oh, go on, don’t be soft,’ said Marina. ‘It suits you better than it ever did me anyroad. And I think it’s nice, us sharing like this. After all, it’s too nice a dress to be worn only once, isn’t it?’
Rose gazed once more at her reflection. The dress was of stiff, figured taffeta and in reaction to the war years was cut on generous lines with a full skirt, long sleeves and a heart-shaped neckline. It was a new fashion after the clinging satin which had been all there was available a year or two before.
Marina herself was to be matron of honour and her dress was a deep blue taffeta, unusual for a wedding but her idea was that it could easily be turned into a dance dress. ‘Just the thing for the New Year’s Eve ball at the Institute,’ she reckoned, and Rose agreed with her.
‘Though Brian’s worrying on like a hen with one chick since I told him I was expecting,’ commented Marina. ‘I told him, why shouldn’t I dance? I’m no more than four months gone after all, my waist’s hardly thickened yet. Here, what do you think?’
She turned sideways and looked into the mirror, and Rose obligingly got out of the way so she could see. ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ was her judgement. Marina seemed to have forgotten her ambitions to rise to the top of the Treasurer’s Department at Shire Hall. Now all she could think of was her Brian and the new baby. She had turned into a model housewife.
‘The car’s here,’ Brian called from the bottom of the stairs. He was going to have been Jeff’s best man but in the end had decided that Rose’s need for someone to give her away was more urgent.
The two girls smiled at one other. ‘Eeh, pet, I wish you all the luck in the world,’ said Marina, eyes suddenly bright with tears. ‘The Lord knows, you deserve it. You haven’t had much luck so far.’
‘But I have,’ Rose replied, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper. ‘I have Jeff, don’t I?’
‘You do indeed,’ Marina agreed and kissed her lightly on the cheek. ‘Howay now, time to go.’
Jeff had asked his marra from work to be his best man. Dan Murray was a tall, gangling sort of lad with a freckled face and hair somewhere between blond and ginger. He stood beside Jeff, beaming at everyone in the chapel, obviously delighted to be asked. There were plenty of people to smile at too. It seemed to Jeff that half his shift and their wives and girlfriends had come to see him wed, all of them dressed in their best: the women in wispy hats; the men with their hair slicked back with a quiff at the front in the mode of the day.
The organ struck up ‘Here Comes the Bride’ and Dan nudged Jeff. ‘Now then, lad, here we go.’ They stood and took their places before the communion rail, Dan fumbling in his pocket in a sudden panic that he had lost the ring. But Jeff was watching his Rose, his lovely flower, walking down the aisle on Brian’s arm, her smile the most beautiful he had seen in his life.
Behind her Marina stepped forward to receive the bouquet. The twins looked unnaturally solemn as they stood behind her, Michael’s hair slicked down with water and Mary’s tied up in pink satin ribbons.
From a side pew, Auntie Elsie watched them proudly, her habitual anxious expression completely gone, for hadn’t Rose promised the children could stay with her in Shotton, so long as they were happy there? And Elsie was well aware what heart-searching had gone into that decision. She turned her attention to the bride and groom as the service got under way.
‘Dearly beloved …’ the minister began. Jeff looked down at Rose, who had taken her place beside him, catching her glance up at him, and the two of them were once again wrapped in that precious golden haze of love.
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First published as When Morning Comes in 1999 by Piatkus Books
This edition published in 2014 by Ebury Press, an imprint of Ebury Publishing
A Random House Group Company
Copyright © 1999 Una Horne writing as Maggie Hope
Maggie Hope has asserted her right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This novel is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental
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