When the box duly arrived, a worktable was cleared, and the garments displayed. Some were too big or too matronly for Rose Marie’s slight figure, but there was a white cotton frock with a fine silvery stripe, short sleeves, dropped waist and buttoned bodice. The collar, slightly soiled due to a careless trying-on by a customer who had applied too much pink face powder, had a detachable poppy-red bow.
‘I’ll rub the stain with a damp, soapy sponge, then with a clean damp cloth. It’ll soon dry, then I can press the collar. First, I must make sure it fits!’ said Rose Marie. She mused, I’ve white cotton gloves, and maybe Lilli will lend me her little white hat.
*
On Saturday morning, Rose Marie popped downstairs to say cheerio to Florence. She discovered Florence pottering around in her kimono, making a fresh pot of tea.
‘Stella and Manny are already busy in the shop. Josefina is having a lie-in – my suggestion! She will stay awake at night until her mother gets to bed. You’re all ready for your big day, I see.’ She smiled at Rose Marie. ‘I expect I’ll be tucked up by the time you arrive home. You’ll come and wish me luck, won’t you, before I go to the hospital tomorrow?’
‘I’m going with you! You’re not worrying too much about it, are you?’
‘No, but I’ll be glad to get it over with. Off you go, and have a good time.’
‘Thanks, Florence, I will!’
Rose Marie waited outside the shop. Stella spotted her through the window and waved. ‘Enjoy yourself!’ she called. Manny was serving an early customer, but gave her a little nod.
She didn’t have to wait long. A small box-bodied green van with gold lettering on the side, E. T-W RARE BOOKS, drew up at the kerb. To her astonishment, it was Russ who opened the driver’s door and jumped out.
‘Don’t look so surprised! I struck a bargain with the boss! The van is mine until tomorrow, when I’ve to collect Mr Turbot-Watts because we have a sale to attend after lunch.’
Once they were driving along, they exchanged the news since they’d last met.
‘I’ve become more independent,’ Rose Marie said. ‘I’m sharing the flat upstairs with Lilli and her daughter. It’s too crowded in our place since Stella arrived home.’
‘Is that a permanent arrangement?’
‘That depends on Stella. She’ll have to live where she can find work, I suppose.’
‘Well, Florence must be glad to have her help at present.’
‘I suppose so . . . It’s noisy this engine, isn’t it?’
‘It’s a very reliable motor, a Trojan; ten horsepower, if that means anything to you?’
‘I’m afraid it doesn’t.’
He continued, ‘The engine is under the floor, a two-stroke, hence the vibration. But the chassis, as they call it, is well sprung, and I’m sure you noticed the solid tyres? The Trojan is well named, it can get up any hill with ease.’
‘I only saw you!’
‘That’s nice. Dare I ask if you are looking forward to seeing my mother?’
‘I . . . I’m not sure,’ Rose Marie admitted. The bucket seat was uncomfortable and she felt a little sick. She hadn’t travelled so far in a motor before, and Lilli’s idea of a good breakfast, on her own working morning, left-over cream cake and hot chocolate, probably didn’t help . . .
‘Don’t allow her to intimidate you, that’s my advice.’
Rose Marie gulped. ‘You’ll have to stop – oh hurry!’
Russ’s large pocket handkerchief saved the day, and her dress, but Rose Marie arrived in Norwood with a wan face and woeful expression.
‘Wait a moment, Russ,’ she said, putting out a restraining hand as he switched off the engine.
Rose Marie opened her bag and took out a small bottle of eau de Cologne. She dabbed some behind her ears, and in the hollow of her throat.
‘There! I hope I smell sweeter now.’ She glanced out of her window. It was a quiet suburban street with neat rows of identical terraced houses. Not a shop or public house in sight, and no children playing outside. Not at all as she had imagined, despite Russ describing his home as ‘a small house in Norwood’. Did anyone actually live in this place?
‘I have a key, but I’ll knock, as Mother may be busy in the kitchen, or out in the garden,’ Russ said, as they walked up the little path, flanked by leggy rose bushes, to the door.
However, Mrs Short had obviously been watching out for their arrival, and the door opened immediately.
She was a tall, elegant woman in her mid-forties, wearing a linen skirt with a pretty, ruffled blouse which Rose Marie recognized instantly as one of those which had been selling like hot cakes in Belling’s dress shop. She could have machined it herself, but, of course, it would be impolite to say so, she thought. Was Mrs Short aware that was where she worked?
Mrs Short’s blue eyes had a definite frosty glare. She shook hands before Rose Marie could remove her gloves, looked her up and down, then opened a door off the minute hall.
‘You can entertain Miss Flinders for ten minutes while I make some coffee, Russell.’
They sat together on a hard-stuffed sofa. The windows were closed; it was an airless room. Rose Marie removed her hat and put it on the occasional table with her gloves.
‘Quick,’ Russ murmured in her ear, ‘how about a kiss before Mother returns?’
She demurred. ‘D’you think we should?’
‘Shush . . .’
They sprang apart guiltily when Mrs Short came in carrying a silver tray with two steaming bone-china cups. She looked askance at the hat and gloves. Before Russ could remove these items, she pushed the tray on the table and, the hat fell to the floor. Mrs Short managed to tread on the brim, as she bent swiftly to retrieve it.
‘I’ll put this on the hallstand,’ she said firmly, not deigning to apologize.
‘Aren’t you joining us, Mother?’ Russ asked.
‘I have lunch to prepare,’ his mother reminded him.
‘May I help?’ Rose Marie offered, even as she wondered if Lilli’s hat was damaged.
‘That’s not necessary. My son seems to have his own ideas on how to spend the time before we sit down to eat. By the way, Miss Flinders, the bow at your neck appears to have come unfastened . . . Now, if you will excuse me.’ She swept out.
‘Oh dear,’ Russ said with feeling. ‘I think you can say that’s put a stop to that, eh?’
‘Russ, are you sure your mother was anxious to meet me?’
‘I suppose,’ he admitted, ‘it was more wishful thinking on my part.’
‘She probably thinks we’re too young to be serious; I know Florence does.’
‘Florence is nice to me, nevertheless, she makes me welcome when I see her; Mother is, there’s no other word for it, an out and out snob!’
‘Well, she knows how to make good coffee,’ Rose Marie said, as she took the first sip.
Lunch, too, was an agreeable surprise. Slices of cold chicken and ham; tiny waxy new potatoes with melted butter and parsley, served on Royal Doulton plates; a colourful bowl of salad stuff; fresh-made mayonnaise in a cut-glass jug and mango chutney in a matching dish.
Over dessert, apricots and cream, the probing began.
‘I understand your sister runs a long-established business – may I call you Rose Marie?’
Rose Marie almost choked on a mouthful of food. She managed a nod, while Russ poured more water in her glass. She swallowed. ‘Yes, of course you may use my first name.’
‘Miss Flinders seems too formal for one so youthful,’ Mrs Short told her. ‘My daughter tells me you are an accomplished dressmaker.’
‘Rose Marie wants to go on to clothes design, don’t you?’ Russ put in.
Rose Marie realized that Mrs Short was deliberately patronizing her. ‘I intend to be successful in whatever I choose to do, in the future.’
‘You appear single-minded, but I imagine that in your case, an early marriage is on the cards.’ There was no mistaking the malice in Mrs Shor
t’s voice.
‘Why should you imagine that? What are you implying?’ Rose Marie demanded. She put down her spoon with a clatter. She looked at Russ. ‘Your mother obviously doesn’t like me, Russ. Maybe you should take me home.’
‘Don’t go!’ Mrs Short surprised them. ‘You’re wrong, Rose Marie, I do like you. I don’t want my son to commit himself to . . . a liaison, before he’s carved out a career for himself.’
‘My sister married too young, I won’t make the same mistake.’
‘Mother, can’t you understand? There’s a strong attraction between Rose Marie and me. We enjoy being together. That doesn’t mean we want to rush things.’
‘I know you, Russell. You’re too impulsive, like your father.’
‘Please,’ Rose Marie put in, sensing that the argument would become heated. ‘Can we forget this conversation? We’ve both told you how we feel, Mrs Short. There’s nothing for you to worry about, is there?’
‘You’re very charitable,’ Mrs Short observed. ‘Well, shall we adjourn to the garden?’
The garden came as a surprise to Rose Marie. It was more or less private because of the high hedges which separated the neighbouring plots on either side. There was the ubiquitous square of lawn; a crazy-paving path and neat flower beds, but at the end there was a gazebo where they could sit in the shade and think themselves somewhere much grander.
‘Take the comfortable seat,’ Mrs Short told Rose Marie, indicating an armchair with embroidered cushions. All the simple furniture, including a small table, was made of cane.
Hanging from a stout hook to one side of the entrance was a gilded birdcage containing a trailing fern. There were jardinières containing miniature shrubs sited around the gazebo, and comings and goings on a bird table to watch. Rose Marie was also intrigued by a stone statue alongside a tiny pond, green with moss and obviously very old, of a lissom young woman holding her skirts up as if she was about to ford a stream.
‘Russell moved that to a safe place for me, before the auction of our old home. The antiques had to be sold, too, to cover my husband’s debts. All we had left was the furniture we needed for this little house, dutifully provided by my brother-in-law. An aunt gave me the gazebo to make me feel at home. That, I must say, is something I have yet to experience. But Aunt Bea was right, this does help.’
‘I’ll make a pot of tea and bring it out, shall I?’ Russ looked from one to the other.
‘You think you can trust me not to bite her head off, is that it?’
‘Mother! That wasn’t necessary.’
‘Off you go, then,’ his mother said.
When they were alone, Mrs Short asked Rose Marie, ‘Would you like me to put you in the picture regarding our past life?’
‘I think you already have.’ Rose Marie felt apprehensive, wondering if Mrs Short realized that she knew the facts about her late husband’s demise.
‘Well, I have certainly hinted that Russ is not in line for any inheritance. Nor is my daughter. My own background may have helped them to come to terms with that. You look puzzled, so I’ll enlighten you. Sadie is actually following in my footsteps, as it were. I was a dancer, too. Russell’s father saw me in a London show and pursued me thereafter. It was an exciting time but it was unexpected when he proposed marriage. My own mother urged me to accept him. I think she feared the alternative was certain seduction and disgrace! Unfortunately, the latter was destined to come. Mine was a respectable lower middle-class family, we were in trade like your people; they didn’t approve of my being on the stage. I take the opposite view, I am very proud of Sadie.’
‘I’m sure Russ will make you feel the same way about him.’
‘I’m afraid he has too relaxed a view on life.’
‘That’s what I like about him,’ Rose Marie said defensively.
‘Talking about me?’ Russ asked, as he arrived with the tea.
‘Not exactly – more about seduction,’ Rose Marie said, with some justification.
‘It never entered my mind,’ he averred, with a cheeky grin. ‘Now, after the tea, how about a walk to the Crystal Palace?’
‘Too hot for me,’ his mother said. ‘But you two go. I don’t mind.’
EIGHT
‘I should leave soon, I think,’ Rose Marie said. ‘Have you everything you need?’ She looked anxiously at Florence, shifting beside her hospital bed, awaiting the attentions of a nurse.
‘You know I have. You’re off to meet Russ, are you? Or does this place make you feel uneasy, like it does me?’
‘We-ell . . . Russ is working today; driving Mr Turbot-Watts to Surrey to collect the contents of what he calls a modest library.’
‘You didn’t say much about your visit to his mother’s house yesterday. How did it go?’
‘Mrs Short wasn’t very welcoming at first; she seemed to think I was pursuing her son for his money, and of course I’m aware he hasn’t any! But we sorted out our differences and Russ wisely kept quiet; she actually kissed me when we left, saying she hoped to see me again.’
‘I suppose she’s just overprotective, as mothers are. What did you do at Crystal Palace?’
Rose Marie felt the colour rise in her cheeks. ‘Phew! It’s too warm in here,’ she said, in case Florence noticed. ‘We didn’t go over the palace this time, but walked in the grounds, plenty going on outside. There was a crowd watching a hot-air balloon taking off.’ She didn’t add, we found a quiet spot away from there, and enjoyed a cuddle in the long grass. Russ spread his jacket for me to lay on, but my new dress still got rather creased. Lucky his mother didn’t know about that.
‘I was young once myself, but it wasn’t much fun,’ Florence observed. ‘Off you go then. Tell Stella to telephone the hospital tomorrow afternoon.’
‘I love you Florence.’ Rose Marie felt suddenly choked.
‘I know you do. Look, here comes the nurse! Don’t worry, will you? I’ll be all right.’
‘Someone delivered this lovely bunch of cream rose-buds for you in reception,’ the nurse smiled. ‘Here’s the card. I’ll put them in water.’
‘Thank you, nurse. Now who on earth . . . ’ Florence opened the tiny envelope.
Rose Marie wasn’t going until her curiosity was satisfied.
‘All the best,’ Florence read aloud, then, ‘The card’s signed “Manny” .’
*
‘Her bed’s at the end of the ward, near a window,’ Rose Marie told Stella.
‘Well, she’ll soon be home again, thank goodness, and fortunately, the children go back to school on Tuesday. Lilli and I can relax a little, then.’
‘Stella, I didn’t like to ask before, but does Jose know you’re here?’
‘Where else would I be? I suppose I ought to contact his family, and see if they know what’s happened.’
‘They haven’t shown any interest in Josefina since she’s lived with us.’
‘We didn’t tell them about that arrangement, they wouldn’t have approved. When are you returning to our flat? The last thing I wanted was to put you out.’
‘It didn’t seem like that to me,’ Rose Marie admitted.
‘Look, when things are back to normal, and Florence is in charge again, I’ll have to seek work, in earnest. I don’t want her to think I’ve given up singing for pie-making! I may have to leave Josefina here, I wouldn’t want to unsettle her again.’
A tap on the door, and Manny came in. He said, ‘I hope you don’t mind, I just wanted to know if Florence has settled in, in hospital.’
‘You didn’t ask at the desk then, when you brought the flowers?’ Rose Marie asked.
Manny looked sheepish. ‘They wouldn’t tell me, not being family. How did you know?’
‘I was just about to leave myself, when a nurse gave Florence the roses. She said they were from you. She was obviously pleased at the kind thought.’
‘What kind thought?’ Lilli and the girls had just returned from their walk.
‘It was nothing muc
h.’ Manny cleared his throat. ‘I’ll see you first thing tomorrow, Stella.’
‘Business as usual,’ Stella observed. ‘We appreciate all your extra efforts, Manny.’
*
The fragrant roses, now unfurling, were the first thing Florence focused on when she came round after her operation later on Monday morning. She was back in the ward, with the screens around her bed, becoming aware of the daytime routine going on; the squeaking medicine trolley, the cheerful voice of the nurse: ‘Thermometer under the tongue, please.’
Then the screen was removed and it was her turn. ‘Good – awake, I see! Let me put another pillow under your head. How do you feel, my dear?’
‘Still rather sleepy,’ she yawned.
‘You weren’t out long, dear. The operation went well. The doctor will see you this afternoon. You’ll be sitting up by then. Just relax now. Ready for a cup of tea?’
‘Yes, please! And a couple of biscuits – I wasn’t allowed any breakfast, as you know.’
‘Well, that’s a good sign. Right. Thermometer under the tongue . . .’
After the tea and biscuits, Florence pulled the covers up and slept until lunchtime.
The doctor was smiling and reassuring. ‘I hope we won’t need to see you again.’
‘When can I resume work?’ she asked.
‘Well, you need to get over the effects of the anaesthetic as well as the operation. Say, a fortnight. You will be sent home with a large bottle of iron tonic. It tastes vile, but make sure you take it to the bitter end, eh? In a month or two you will feel rejuvenated.’
‘Thank you doctor, for everything.’ All that secret worry, she thought, over the past few months, and now, thank goodness, she was free of that. She could make plans for the future.
Later, the nurse told her, ‘Your sister, Mrs Lopez, telephoned. She and your other sister are visiting you this evening.’
‘But I’ll be home in a couple of days—’
‘They want to see for themselves how well you are!’
The ward doors were opened on the stroke of seven and relatives filed in.
Rose Marie and Stella brought Florence black grapes and a bottle of lemon barley water.
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