Her father made a formidable sight indeed. A retired miner, he was a big man with a mass of iron grey hair, and pale deep-set eyes that seemed to see right through a body. ‘Where’ve you been ’til this time?’ he demanded as she appeared at the door.
He was seated in the high-backed rocking chair by the range. He didn’t look round at her, nor did he make any effort to rise from the chair. Instead, he kept it rocking back and forth, back and forth, his deep-set eyes directed towards the empty firegrate, and his long thick fingers drumming, playing out a feverish rhythm on the curved wooden arms.
‘I thought it best to stay away for a while,’ Rosie explained quietly, ‘I thought it might give us both time to cool down.’ She stepped tentatively into the room.
‘Stay where you are. I don’t want you any nearer.’ His eyes remained focused on the empty fire-grate, and the chair continued to rock.
‘What do you mean, Dad? You don’t want me in the parlour?’
‘I don’t want you in the house.’ The sound of the rockers against the carpet made a strange swishing noise.
‘I came home to talk with you. To explain.’
‘There’s nothing to explain. I’ve sired a bad ’un, that’s all.’
‘I’m not a bad un’, Dad!’
‘If your mother was alive, she wouldn’t walk down the street for the shame of it.’
‘I’m to be wed. There will be no shame.’
‘One bad ’un wed to another.’
‘You shouldn’t have read my diary. That was shameful.’
‘I read the letter too.’
Rosie was furious. ‘You had no right!’ she said angrily, clenching her fists and wishing she was a man. ‘How dare you read my private things?’
‘You didn’t even have the courage to tell him,’ he accused. The rockers went faster, and the eyes never flinched. ‘I always regretted never having a son, but I never thought I’d raise a bloody coward.’
It was a moment before Rosie answered. Then: ‘All right, I won’t deny I’ve been a coward, but I had my reasons.’
‘Aye. Two! Doug Selby and his bastard.’
‘The child won’t be a bastard. That’s why I’m getting wed.’
‘I hope the other one kills him. Then you won’t be getting wed, and everybody’ll know you for what you are.’
‘If, as you say, you’ve read the letter, you’ll know Adam is not a murderous man. He’s home on leave tomorrow. I’ll tell him then.’
‘Get out!’
‘What?’
‘I want nothing to do with you. I don’t want you ever to show your face round these parts again. You’ll find your things all packed… in the front room.’
‘You’re not thinking straight, Dad. Let’s both get a good night’s sleep, and talk about it all in the morning. I love you. I can’t just leave you.’
‘I don’t want your kind under my roof. I’ll have no part of you from now on. Get out, I said, NOW!’ The rockers were suddenly still. He turned. The deep-set eyes regarded her as though she was so much dirt under his shoe.
‘Dad…’ Her ears were ringing from his harsh words, yet she knew him well enough to realise that he meant every word.
He wasn’t listening. The rockers were shifting back and forth, the swishing sound all that could be heard. His eyes were turned towards the empty grate, and his big shoulders were set like stone. The time for talking was long over.
‘I’ll ask Peggy if I can stay there for the time being,’ she offered. He didn’t move a muscle. ‘All right, Dad,’ she murmured, ‘if this is what you really want.’ No reply. She was devastated.
Going into the front parlour, she collected the portmanteau. It wasn’t heavy. Four years ago her parents had been involved in a train accident. Her mother was killed, and her father partially crippled, enough to keep him out of full-time work. Her own job at the post office kept the wolf from the door, but it was never enough to buy fancy clothes and the like. Such things didn’t bother her. Rosie was a simple soul, with simple needs.
The front parlour had always been reserved for special visitors. Rosie smiled at the irony of her father placing her portmanteau in here. On the oak sideboard stood a photograph of her mother; a small woman much like Rosie herself, with brown hair and browner eyes. ‘Well, Mam,’ she told the smiling face, ‘you’ll be sorry it’s come to this. We could have talked it through, but he won’t listen. You know what he can be like. Still, happen when he’s got over the shock, he’ll see reason. But I’m not making the first move!’ She shook her head and set her mouth in a grim line. ‘It’s him that’s thrown me out, so it’s up to him to mend the breach.’
She stood there a while, tempted to take the photograph with her. But she knew her father derived great comfort from it, and so departed without it.
As she quietly opened the front door, her father’s voice boomed out, ‘LEAVE THE KEY!’ For the sake of her mam’s memory, she almost returned to reason once more with him. But she knew him too well. In the mood he was in, it was best to do as he asked.
Taking her long white cardigan from a hook on the other door, she felt in the pocket. Withdrawing the front door key, she laid it on the hallway table, then slid the cardigan over her shoulders. Taking up the portmanteau once more, she went out of the house.
The evening air had grown chilly. She shivered. It was a good walk to her friend Peggy’s house. But there would be a welcome there, she knew.
Chapter Two
‘Oh, Rosie! Why didn’t you tell me?’ At twenty-two, Peggy Lewis was almost two years older than Rosie, yet she seemed younger somehow. A scrap of a woman, with fair cropped hair, big round blue eyes and a nose that was so large it overshadowed her mouth, she looked to be in a constant state of astonishment. She was neither intelligent nor dim, beautiful nor ugly, and if you dressed her in the finest silk that money could buy, she would still look like a bundle of straw tied up in the middle. But her young heart was big and generous, and filled with love for Rosie.
‘I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed.’
‘Ashamed?’ Peggy tutted. ‘And what are best friends supposed to be for?’ she wanted to know. ‘Since when have we ever kept secrets from each other?’
‘It wasn’t just that,’ Rosie assured her. ‘This was something I had to sort out for myself. Even if I had told you, there was nothing you could have done… except worry yourself sick.’ She smiled fondly. ‘And you would have worried yourself sick, wouldn’t you? Admit it?’
Peggy twisted her mouth to one side, nervously biting her top lip, just as she always did when she was lost for words. ‘I suppose so,’ she reluctantly confessed.
‘There you are then. So I’m glad I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I’m telling you now.’
‘What? You don’t trust me? You think I’ll spread it all over Blackburn?’
‘Don’t be silly. If I thought that, I wouldn’t have come here tonight. It’s a secret between you and me, and my father, of course… and Doug. But they won’t tell. Dad’s eaten with shame, and Doug’s promised me he won’t let on to anybody. He knows I’ll hate him if he tells.’ She half smiled. ‘No doubt he’d like to brag to the world, but I believe he’ll keep his promise to me.’ Peggy shrugged her shoulders. Not for the first time, she was tempted to challenge Rosie’s trust in that young man but, for the sake of friendship, she decided against it. ‘You really ought to try and get some sleep,’ she remarked instead.
‘I can’t.’ Rosie glanced at the clock over the mantelpiece. ‘Every time I close my eyes, I think about everything that’s happened. My Dad… Doug… Adam… all the plans that have been spoiled. And not only my plans, Peggy. Dad’s right. What I’ve done is awful, and I deserve to be thrown out.’
‘Hmph! Anybody’d think you had caused the problem all by yourself. What about that rascal, Doug, eh? You’ve already agreed to wed him, more’s the pity, so I reckon that’s punishment enough.’ Rolling her huge eyes upwards, she declared grimly, ‘Your dad was
wrong to do what he did. Cor! If anybody looked through my diary, I’d be hopping mad!’
Rosie was puzzled. ‘I didn’t know you kept a diary?’
‘I don’t. All I’m saying is, if I did.’
Rosie had to smile, and soon the two of them were giggling. ‘You’re a twerp, Peggy Lewis,’ Rosie told her. ‘But I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
‘Throw yourself in the canal, like as not.’ Placing her thin hands on the parlour table, she stood up. ‘It’s four o’clock of a morning, and the pair of us will be fit for nothing come daylight, but now that you’ve woken me… tiptoeing down every creaky stair you could find… we might as well raid the pantry.’
‘Your mam was angry. I shouldn’t have put myself on you like that. After all, she’s a widow, and there’s four other children besides you in this little house. It was a bloody cheek of me to turn up like that… suitcase and all.’
‘Take no notice. Our mam’s bark is worse than her bite.’ She chuckled. ‘You’ll feel better when I tell you she followed me upstairs to ask how much we should charge you to stop here.’
Rosie laughed. ‘And what did you say?’
‘I told her you’d pay two shilling a week, and teach her to embroider. She’s always wanted to embroider… drives me mad, she does.’
Rosie was astounded. ‘You must be mad! I can’t embroider.’
‘There you are then. You can teach each other.’ Chuckling, she asked, ‘Jam butties and cocoa… how does that sound?’
Shaking her head in disbelief, Rosie thought it best to ignore Peggy’s little games. ‘Sounds great, but won’t your mam be angry if we raid the pantry?’
‘Not if we don’t tell her. I’ll stir the jampot afterwards, so it looks full, and you’d have to be Sherlock Holmes to miss a slice off half a loaf. As for the cocoa, I bought it myself, so there’ll be nowt said.’ As she went into the scullery, she reminded Rosie, ‘Anyway, the war’s been over nearly four years. There ain’t rationing like there used to be, thank God.’
Rosie could hear her bustling about in the scullery. She envied Peggy her peace of mind. ‘Will you come with me tomorrow?’ she called.
Peggy returned with a tray of jam butties and two steaming mugs of cocoa. ‘No, I bloody well won’t!’ she retorted. ‘There’s things to be said between you and Adam that ain’t for nobody else’s ears.’ Placing one mug and a small plate before Rosie, she added softly, ‘You’re made of good stuff, and you’re not to worry. It’ll be all right, you’ll see.’
Unable to stomach the jam butty, Rosie sipped at the warming cocoa. ‘I didn’t mean for you to come with me into the station,’ she explained. ‘I thought you might sit with me in the tea rooms, just until the train arrives. Then you could go.’
‘That’s very big of you,’ Peggy teased.
‘You’ll come then?’
‘’Course I will. Now, drink your cocoa and we’ll try and get a couple of hours sleep.’
There was little to be said for the next few minutes. Peggy was too busy polishing off the jam butties, and Rosie too steeped in thoughts of the coming ordeal.
At four-thirty, the two pals traipsed upstairs and into their respective beds. Peggy soon fell asleep, but Rosie lay awake for what seemed an age. In the soft lamplight, she read the crumpled letter time and again:
My darling Rosie,
I know it’s been some time since I wrote, but, like I told you in my last letter, I had some growing up to do before settling down. I know you understand I had to get things straight in my mind, and how I needed to be out of the Army, before asking you to wed me.
I’m sorry. I haven’t been fair to you, and all these months of waiting to hear from me must have been sheer hell. But you knew I would write, and you knew I would never stop loving you. I’ve always promised we’d be wed one day. Well, sweetheart, the day’s arrived! I would have written earlier, but I wanted to surprise you.
I’m on my way home, and I can’t wait to hold you in my arms. I’ve carried your picture next to my heart everywhere I’ve been. Now I mean to carry you over the threshold of our home, as my wife… Mr and Mrs Adam Roach! Sounds great, don’t it?
I’ve managed to put some money by, more than enough for a down payment on one of them little houses in Rosamund Street. See! I didn’t forget where you said you wanted to live when we were man and wife. There won’t be too much left over for a grand wedding, but we can wait a bit if you like.
Doug’s dad always said he’d give me a job when I’m demobbed, and carting coal is respectable enough, I reckon, though I don’t intend to do that forever because I’ve got big plans for you and me.
I plan to arrive at Blackburn railway station at nine forty- five on June 14th. I’ll have my eyes peeled for you, sweetheart.
See you then.
All my love,
Adam xxx
‘I’m ashamed to meet you.’ Rosie pressed the crumpled letter to her breast. ‘I don’t even know if I can,’ she murmured. But she could. She must! She owed him that much at least.
Sickened to the heart, she lay back against the pillow and closed her eyes. All she could see was the letter, every word imprinted on her mind. Her heart felt like a lead weight inside her. She loved him still, and yet she had betrayed him with his best mate. ‘He’s too good for the likes of you!’ she told herself, bitter tears dampening the pillow. After a while, she deliberately closed her mind to it all and drifted into a restless slumber.
In her dreams she was in the eye of a raging storm, floating on a raft that was being carried swiftly out to sea. Suddenly a ship appeared with two men aboard; one was Doug, the other a handsome soldier. Both were reaching down to lift her up, and though she desperately strived to grasp the soldier’s hand, it was Doug who caught hold of her. At that moment, the boat overturned and they were all flung into the waves.
The gales blew them every which way, and the waves drove them down. The nightmare worsened. And even when she awoke, it was still so real she found herself thrashing at the air with outstretched arms.
Unable to sleep now, she got out of bed and sat by the window to watch the dawn rise in a beautiful sky. ‘In a little while you’ll be seeing him,’ she murmured. ‘And God help you then.’
* * *
‘Come on, Rosie!’ Peggy stood by the door, hands on hips, a look of consternation on her thin face. ‘Look at the time. If we don’t get a move on, you’ll miss the train. And listen!’ She cocked an ear towards the stairway. The sounds emanating from above told their own story. ‘Our mam’s up and about. Any minute now, she’ll be coming down them stairs with a line o’ kids behind her. Then I shan’t get out for hours. What with one thing and another, she’ll keep me at it all morning.’
It was the incentive Rosie needed. ‘Just coming,’ she said, taking one last look in the mirror and patting her thick brown hair. In spite of everything, she so much wanted to look good for Adam.
‘Bloody Nora!’ Peggy hopped from one foot to the other. ‘Will you get a move on?’ Her anxious eyes followed Rosie’s every move, and as always she was struck by her friend’s simple beauty. Rosie was wearing her best frock, a pretty cream material overprinted with shadowy pink roses. Its swirling hem was a fashionable calf-length and the tiny waist was drawn in by a plain grey belt. She was wearing black slim-heeled shoes, and carrying an envelope bag of the same colour.
‘I’m so nervous,’ she told Peggy as they went out of the house. ‘God only knows how I’m going to tell him.’
‘You’ll just have to take a deep breath and out with it,’ Peggy declared. ‘As far as I can see, there ain’t no other way.’ She took a sideways glance at her friend. ‘You bugger! You didn’t sleep after we went back to bed, did you, eh?’ She had seen how pale Rosie was, and how the shadows had deepened round her lovely brown eyes.
‘I couldn’t,’ Rosie admitted, ‘I kept reading his letter.’ It was in her bag now. She must have read it a dozen times, and each time she felt worse.
> The tram was just drawing away as they reached the bottom of Viaduct Street. ‘RUN!’ Peggy yelled, and the two of them took to their heels, shouting and calling to the conductor to wait for them.
‘Another minute and you’d ’ave missed it.’ The red-faced fellow rolled their tickets out of his machine and gave the change to Rosie. ‘Off to the market, are you?’
Before she could get her breath, Peggy chirped in, ‘You’re not supposed to leave ’til half-past eight, and it’s still half a minute to go.’ She pointed at her big round watch.
‘You’re not telling me that thing’s right, are you? Where did you get it… threepence off the market?’ He grinned and turned away.
‘Cheeky sod! This cost me half a week’s wages.’
‘Well now that’s a real shame, because it’s running slow. If I were you I’d ask for my money back.’ Before she could retaliate he’d hurried away, whistling at the top of his voice.
The market was already busy, with people jostling each other and pushing forward for the early bargains. But the tea rooms at the station end were almost empty. Rosie was glad of that. ‘I’ve been all kinds of a fool,’ she told Peggy as they collected a mug of tea and went to the table nearest the window. ‘I could have been walking down the aisle with Adam, setting up home on Rosamund Street, and having his babies. Now look at me… three months gone and his best friend the father. Happen my dad’s right. I am a slut.’
‘No you’re not. You were lonely, and when Doug Selby made a play for you, you fell for it, just like any other girl would have done. In fact, there’s plenty who have.’
‘Which only makes it worse. I should have known better. After all, he’s always had a reputation.’
‘He’s too bloody handsome, that’s what. And he can talk his way into anything.’
‘Oh, Peggy, I’m so ashamed. You did warn me about him. Why in God’s name didn’t I listen to you?’
More Than Riches Page 2