As the Sun Breaks Through

by Ellie Dean

  Rosie let him light her cigarette and, whilst Ron filled his pipe, idly watched the two dogs haring about. ‘You’d hardly know there was a war on up here, would you?’ she murmured a while later, her eyes closed, her face lifted to the sun. ‘It’s so still and peaceful.’

  As if on cue a squadron of Tornados screamed overhead, and she broke into a chuckle. ‘I obviously spoke too soon,’ she shouted above the noise. ‘Let’s eat. I’m starving.’

  Ron opened the basket and discovered not only sandwiches, but a packet of biscuits, a flask of tea, a dog’s bowl and a large bottle of water. He set the bowl on a flat bit of ground and poured some water for the dogs, then offered Rosie a beer and a sandwich.

  She stubbed out her cigarette and, between bites of the sandwich, sipped on the beer as the planes continued to thunder overhead, making conversation almost impossible.

  Harvey and Monty saw the sandwiches and came charging back to drink noisily from the bowl and beg for something to eat.

  Ron had slipped a few dog biscuits into his pocket before leaving the house and he gave them a couple in the forlorn hope they would suffice. They didn’t, of course, and when they began to snuffle about in the basket, he slammed down the lid and shooed them away.

  They sloped off in high dudgeon until a rabbit caught their attention and they went charging off in pursuit. Ron sipped his beer and puffed on his pipe, content simply to be with Rosie in his favourite place. But he did wish she’d give him some clue as to what was on her mind.

  ‘Thanks for telling me about Ethel and my letter,’ she said as soon as there was a brief lull between flights. ‘I’m not surprised she’s been thrown into prison with that awful Olive, but I do feel for poor Stan. How’s he coping?’

  Stan had been Ron’s pal since they were boys, and they’d survived the horrors of the Somme together and come home to pick up the threads of their lives again. ‘He’s getting over it and running the station as usual,’ Ron replied. ‘He was knocked for six over it all, but Ethel’s young Ruby is standing by him, as is his niece, April.’ He took the pipe from his mouth and studied the burning tobacco. ‘Stan’s made of stern stuff, Rosie. With all the love and support he has, he’ll pull through.’

  Rosie nodded. ‘I’ll make a point of going to see him tomorrow. I’ve always liked Stan, but he should never have married that cow in the first place. We all knew what she was like, but—’

  ‘I know,’ said Ron. ‘Love is blind and makes fools of us all.’

  She raised an eyebrow and changed the subject. ‘There was a lot of talk in the pub today about that V-1 attack in London,’ she said. ‘It came as a terrible shock to learn you and Peggy had suffered the same thing in Havelock Road. Thank goodness you all came out of it unscathed.’ She grasped Ron’s hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘It would have been awful if I’d lost you,’ she said unsteadily.

  Ron’s heartbeat stuttered, and he returned the pressure on her fingers. ‘It’ll take more than a V-1 to get rid of the Reilly clan,’ he said gruffly before ramming his pipe stem between his teeth. ‘The problem is that most of Havelock Road is now a pile of rubble and we’ve been lumbered with Doris.’

  ‘Oh, no, poor Peggy,’ Rosie breathed. ‘How is she coping?’

  Ron told her about the row that morning. ‘To be sure, she’ll not let that woman boss her about any more,’ he concluded. ‘I’m thinking Doris knows she’s overstepped the mark and will behave herself from now on.’

  ‘Families are a pain, aren’t they?’ she sighed, freeing her hand from his grasp and reaching for another beer. ‘I could certainly have done without James’s lot.’

  Ron’s attention sharpened. ‘Was it very bad up there?’

  Rosie nodded and the light in her eyes dimmed at the memory. ‘By the time I got there, they’d already tried to sign the papers at the asylum so James’s body would be released to them for burial.’

  She bit her lip. ‘His sister actually told them I’d given them permission as I didn’t want to be bothered about it,’ she said bitterly. ‘They didn’t know that upon receiving that telegram, I’d immediately telephoned the head administrator and warned him this might happen, and that under no circumstances were they to have access to him.’

  Ron stayed silent as he absorbed this and felt a stab of guilt that he hadn’t been by her side at the time.

  ‘The biggest shock came when I arrived at the funeral parlour only to be asked who I was and what relationship I had with the deceased. It turned out his sister and parents were already in the back office, and after the undertaker had been to talk to them, he returned to me looking very shamefaced. It seems they’d said they were the only family, and denied vehemently that I had any rights to organise his funeral.’

  She lit another cigarette, and Ron felt his heart clench as he noticed that her hands were trembling. Yet he made no move towards her and kept silent, realising she needed to let out all the anguish she’d clearly been holding back.

  ‘I had to show him my marriage certificate, my power of attorney and the papers I’d signed at the asylum before he would allow me into that damned office.’ She took a sharp drag on her cigarette. ‘You can have no idea of how furious I was, but I tell you straight, Ron, if I’d had a gun I’d’ve shot the blooming lot of them.’

  ‘And I wouldn’t have blamed you,’ Ron muttered.

  Rosie shot him a fleeting smile. ‘The atmosphere in that office could have been cut with a knife,’ she continued. ‘The poor undertaker realised there would be a blazing row and fled. It was all horribly embarrassing, but I wasn’t about to cave in to them.’

  Ron grinned. Rosie had always been feisty, so he wasn’t at all surprised.

  Rosie didn’t return his smile. ‘I told them what I thought of them, and they didn’t hold back either. They went on about my relationship with you, the shame I’d brought on the family by owning a pub, and the way I’d had James committed to that asylum when I should have been a proper wife to him and nursed him at home.’

  She gave a snort of derision. ‘As if that had ever been a possibility. He was way beyond my care and far too violent – a risk to himself as well as everyone else. But they chose to ignore that fact, of course.’

  She took a breath and stubbed out the cigarette with unnecessary vigour. ‘To top all that, they then accused me of forcing him to give me power of attorney over his estate so I could cut them out of the will.’

  ‘Where there’s a will, there’s always a greedy relative,’ said Ron.

  Rosie nodded. ‘You can say that again. The estate came to a sizeable amount despite the years of hospital fees that had come out of it – and to be honest, I’d always felt awkward about being the sole beneficiary. But James was quite sane when he wrote that will and organised the power of attorney before he went off to war in 1914, and adamant that I should inherit it all.’

  ‘He probably suspected his family were grasping and wanted to protect you.’ Ron regarded her sharply from beneath his brows. ‘I hope you didn’t give them anything after the disgusting way they behaved.’

  ‘If they’d actually mourned his passing and been kinder to me, I would probably have given them something,’ she admitted. ‘As it was, I decided to give a chunk to charity and keep the rest of the investments to see me through once I retire from the Anchor.’

  ‘I’m sorry you had to go through all that,’ Ron murmured. ‘No wonder you were so exhausted when you got back. But what of the Major? Where was he when all this was going on?’

  ‘Henry was at my side throughout, thank goodness. I couldn’t have got through it without him.’

  Ron put his pipe in his jacket pocket and tried to quell the sudden dart of jealousy as he watched her gaze drift beyond the ruined flint walls to the sea and sky.

  ‘He was marvellous,’ she murmured. ‘James’s sister and mother were like two spitting cats, and believe me, Ron, I was in the mood to give as good as I got until Henry stepped in and defused the situation.’

  �
��And how did he do that?’ asked Ron, the jealousy stabbing again.

  ‘He quietly and firmly took command, which silenced those grasping, vicious harpies, and then spoke directly to James’s father – who was clearly uncomfortable about the whole situation, but not man enough to stand up to his wife and daughter. Henry reminded him that it was time for mourning a lost son, not for airing old grievances, throwing accusations about or haggling over his son’s will.’

  Rosie’s mouth twisted in disgust. ‘James’s father has always been spineless, but he actually had the decency to look ashamed when Henry went on to say that the memory of James and how he’d once been was being tarnished by this tasteless and unedifying fracas. Henry also pointed out that James’s final wish to be cremated had been entrusted to me, and as his widow, it was my duty to see it through despite their objections.’

  Ron grudgingly admired the man for standing up to them, but it didn’t lessen his mistrust of his motives for doing so. ‘And how did they take that?’

  ‘Not too well at first,’ she admitted. ‘They didn’t like the idea of cremation at all – which actually I could understand, it being a bit out of the ordinary – and wanted to bury James in their local churchyard. But Henry’s measured tone and undoubted air of command silenced them in the end,’ she continued, her admiration for the Major clear in her expression. ‘James’s wishes were carried out and I brought his ashes home to be scattered on the beach.’

  She closed her eyes, hugged her knees, and took a tremulous breath. ‘The years of James’s war brought torment to his mind and soul, keeping him as much a prisoner as those asylum walls. In one of his rare lucid moments early on in his sickness, he told me he wanted the wind and the sea to carry him to freedom – not to spend eternity in darkness beneath the ground.’

  Ron thought about his time in the trenches where horror upon horror had come thick and fast in unrelenting waves. Some men, like Rosie’s James, were broken by it, others were made stronger, but for all of them who’d survived, that nightmare still came to haunt them in unexpected moments, and Ron had often wondered if the dead had been the lucky ones.

  He shook off those dark memories. ‘I can understand why he wanted to be free,’ he murmured, cautiously putting his arm round her shoulders and drawing her to his side. ‘He’s finally at peace, Rosie. The torment he suffered is at an end, and he would want you to remember him the way he was before he went to war.’

  She nodded against his shoulder. ‘It’s how I always think of him – handsome, young, full of vigour, waving excitedly from that damned train that was going to take him to hell.’

  He held her closer as she sobbed. ‘To be sure, we were all changed by that war,’ he murmured, the unwanted memories rolling back in. He determinedly banished them and concentrated on Rosie, who was very much alive and in need of his consolation.

  ‘I wish I could have been with you to shield you from all the spite and hurt you’ve had to go through these past weeks,’ he said softly into her hair. ‘But ’tis grateful I am to the Major for standing by you.’

  She slowly eased from his embrace, dried her eyes and made a concerted effort to keep further tears at bay. ‘I know you don’t want to hear this, Ron, but he was a great comfort,’ she said eventually. ‘I was seething and ready to do battle, but he was calm and reasonable, countering every argument with logic, wearing them down until they saw they had no case to answer.’

  ‘I would have been the same,’ he said.

  She shot him a wan smile. ‘I’m sure you would once you’d punched a nose or two. But you weren’t there.’

  ‘I would have been if you’d told me,’ he protested.

  ‘I couldn’t get hold of you, which is why I wrote you that letter.’ She looked at him with some exasperation. ‘Don’t tell me you’re still sore about Henry going with me?’

  ‘Not at all,’ he lied.

  ‘Oh, Ron, do get a grip. Henry’s a lovely man and an attractive one too. I admit I was drawn to him. But for all his lovely manners and sharp suits, he’s not you – will never be you.’

  Ron’s heart missed a beat. ‘Drawn to him?’ he rasped.

  She looked at him evenly. ‘It was a mutual attraction, Ron, born from spending hours together during what turned out to be a harrowing time. He comforted me and bolstered my spirits, made sure I ate properly and even walked Monty. He was an attentive companion, and did all he could to make things easier for me.’

  The blasted man was a positive saint, Ron thought bitterly, his hackles rising. ‘And what sort of comfort did he offer, Rosie?’

  Rosie held his gaze. ‘He held me when I cried. He listened when I needed to talk and was there when I couldn’t stand being alone.’

  ‘How very noble of him,’ Ron said sourly.

  Rosie lifted her chin. ‘Yes, he was noble – and you’ve no cause to be so bitter about it,’ she said tightly. ‘He’s a good, honourable man and …’ She faltered and her gaze drifted away. ‘It was entirely my fault things went a bit haywire,’ she said in a rush.

  Ron went cold and he stared at her. ‘What do you mean, haywire?’

  She avoided his gaze. ‘Not what you’re thinking,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It was just a kiss.’

  ‘You kissed him?’

  ‘It meant nothing, really it didn’t,’ she gabbled, finally looking at him. ‘I was tired and feeling emotional and one minute I was sobbing in his arms, the next we were kissing. It lasted mere seconds, Ron, I swear. I suddenly realised what I was doing and immediately broke away.’

  Ron’s insides clenched, and he felt sick.

  Rosie’s hands fluttered helplessly. ‘It was all frightfully awkward after that, for I realised he was smitten and had been hoping I felt the same way.’ She dropped her chin and plucked at the fabric of her trousers. ‘He’d taken my relief and gratitude for something more, you see – which led to him going down on one knee and proposing.’

  Acid burned in his throat, every nerve and tendon as taut as wire. ‘He did what?’

  Rosie’s gaze slid away. ‘You heard.’

  ‘Well, I hope you told him where to get off behaving like that when he knew how vulnerable you were,’ stormed Ron.

  ‘There’s no need to shout at me, Ron. Of course I turned him down,’ Rosie snapped.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he replied, barely mollified and still as tense as steel.

  ‘He got carried away in the moment, Ron, and I felt an utter heel at rejecting him. It was awful to see him so hurt after all he’d done for me.’

  Ron’s emotions were going helter-skelter with relief, pain and shock at Rosie’s revelation, and it took a long moment before he could respond. ‘I hope you aren’t regretting that decision,’ he managed finally.

  ‘Not for one minute,’ she replied solemnly. ‘He’s a fine man and will make some woman a wonderful, caring husband. But he’s not the one for me.’

  Ron still burned with jealousy as he looked into her lovely eyes. ‘To be sure, Rosie girl, you know how to tear at a man’s heart,’ he said brokenly.

  She reached out to touch his face, her eyes once more bright with tears. ‘Oh, Ron, I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m not proud of what I did, and there’s really no excuse for it, but I wanted there to be no secrets between us. Not if we’re to have any sort of future together.’

  Hope battled with suspicion, anguish and jealousy, but she’d hurt him deeply and he remained cautious. ‘So, you’ve told me everything that went on between you?’ At her nod, he continued, ‘Where is the Major now? Do you plan to see him again?’

  ‘No, Ron,’ she said evenly. ‘He’s rented a house in Fulham and is planning to write a book. If he’s successful at getting it published, he’s promised to send me a copy. He now understands how I feel about you, and has apologised for any hurt his actions might have caused, so that’s an end to it.’

  Ron knew her well enough to see she was truly sorry, and if he was ever to call this wonderful, desirable woman his own he h
ad to rein in all jealousy and mistrust and grab the moment. He reached for her hand. ‘Does this mean we can go back to how we were?’ he asked tentatively.

  She smiled. ‘Together yes – but not as we were,’ she said.

  He looked at her in bewilderment. ‘But I thought—’

  ‘I’ve had a long time to mull over things and have come to a decision,’ she said evenly. ‘You’ll need to shape up, Ron. And I don’t just mean sharpening up your appearance, although it’s already a vast improvement on the old rags you used to wear, but by paying me more attention and not taking me or my feelings for granted.’

  ‘I’ve never taken you for granted,’ he gasped.

  ‘Yes, you have,’ she retorted. ‘You come and go as you please, sometimes disappearing for days without letting me know where you are or what you’re up to. You’ve always assumed I’ll forgive you when you’ve been up to some mischief or other and come crawling back full of Irish charm and far too much whiskey, expecting me to fall into your arms without a murmur.’

  She took a breath and hurried on over his protest. ‘In the normal course of events, I’ve been willing to put up with it all because I love you. But hearing about you and Gloria Stevens sparking in the Crown when you knew how I felt about you going in there was the last straw. This merry-go-round ride we’ve been on is at an end, Ron,’ she said firmly. ‘Go near her or her pub again, and that will be the end of you and me.’

  Ron firmly clamped down on the thought that this was a bit rich coming from a woman who’d confessed to kissing another man, and held back on a bitter retort. ‘We only went in there because she has a snug where we could talk privately,’ he replied. ‘It wasn’t my fault the ferrets got loose and caused mayhem.’

  ‘Nothing’s ever your fault, is it?’ she said, folding her arms at her waist and eyeing him with some amusement. ‘Think about it, Ron. Going into a pub, any pub, with ferrets in your pockets is simply asking for trouble – doing it in the Crown and showing yourself up with Gloria is bordering on madness.’

  He had no answer to this so remained silent.