by Nancy Revell
What Agnes didn’t realise, though, was that there was another reason why Rosie had brought Charlotte to the east end, and that it was something Rosie had wanted to do since the horrendous night two years ago when she had nearly died at the hands of her uncle. She wanted her to meet the woman to whom she would be eternally grateful – a woman who had stayed up with her all night, nursing her through the hell of arc eye, tending her wounds and facial burns and not once asking any questions or making any judgements.
One day Rosie would tell Charlotte why Agnes was such a special person.
When it was time to go, Charlotte felt loath to leave the cosy kitchen-cum-living-room.
‘Don’t forget,’ Polly said, ‘if you have any problems at work, either go and see Bel or just come and see us lot out in the yard.’
‘Charlie might be working out in the yard soon,’ Rosie said, shrugging on her grey mac, which oddly enough matched her little sister’s. ‘I think Miss Crawford’s going to have her doing all sorts. Give her a good grounding in all things shipbuilding,’ she added, walking down the hallway.
Agnes tutted even more loudly than last time. She was no fool, though. She knew what Rosie was doing and certainly didn’t blame her. The way Charlotte had blushed in front of Joe showed she was still very innocent. If she found out that her older sister, the one stable presence in her life since her parents’ death, had worked as a call girl in a brothel she now part-owned, it would not bode well.
‘Well, you just take care in them yards, pet.’ Agnes wrapped her arms around Charlotte and gave her a hug. She felt her stiffen in her embrace and realised the girl wasn’t used to physical affection. She let her go but took hold of her hand.
‘Yer one of the family now, yer know?’ She looked at Charlotte and then up at Rosie. ‘No matter whether yer here or back in Harrogate.’
‘Aye,’ Arthur said, standing up and ruffling her hair, ‘never feel like yer on yer own.’
Charlotte suddenly felt the urge to cry. She told herself not to be stupid and to ‘buck up’.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Rosie shouted back to Polly and Bel.
Polly had told her that she’d be back at work tomorrow. Her plan was to work a full shift, but to pass up any overtime and go up to the Ryhope on an evening to see Tommy.
Rosie was glad. It would mean she’d have her squad back. All apart from Gloria. She knew Helen would also be pleased. She might have joked the night of the air raid about continuing to be a pain when it came to hitting the new tonnage record, but Rosie knew part of her was deadly serious.
And if Rosie was honest, she too wanted to see the yard break the thirty-six-year production record. With more women working in the yards it would prove her point that the women were as good as the men – that they were just as hard-working and productive, if not more so.
‘I have to go out and work this evening,’ Rosie told Charlotte after they’d had their pie and pea supper. It had always been Charlotte’s favourite when they were small, and by the look of the plate scraped clean, it still was.
‘At Lily’s?’ Charlotte asked as she gathered up the dirty dishes and started washing up. It hadn’t escaped Rosie’s notice that Charlotte was endeavouring to be the perfect house guest.
‘Yes,’ Rosie said, wanting to keep any talk about Lily’s down to a minimum. ‘But before I go, we need to sit down and talk properly.’
Charlotte felt her heart sink. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d thought Rosie was going to have ‘the talk’ with her last night, after they’d had their supper. But she hadn’t said a dicky bird.
‘So,’ Rosie said, taking a sip of her tea and looking at her sister across the small kitchen table. ‘Why has being at Runcorn become a fate worse than death?’
Rosie gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. She hadn’t quite given up on the idea that she could get to the bottom of whatever it was that was making Charlotte unhappy at school. She could then sort it out. Get Charlotte back there. Everything could return to normal and there’d be no more stress over her sister finding out about what really went on at Lily’s.
Charlotte took a deep breath. She had to make this convincing. She thought about some techniques she had been taught in her drama class. Her teacher had told them that acting was really an expert form of lying, and the main way to master the skill was to believe what you were saying yourself.
‘I’m just really, really homesick,’ Charlotte said.
This was true.
‘I miss you. I miss being where I belong.’
Again, this was true.
‘And is there anything else, apart from feeling homesick, that has made you want to leave school?’ asked Rosie, being as empathetic as possible.
Charlotte shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’ Rosie asked. ‘What about all the hoo-ha at the start of term? That awful fight with that girl? It seems like a bit of a coincidence …’
Charlotte shook her head again and pasted a look of puzzlement on her face, as though she couldn’t quite understand why the two might be related.
‘Perhaps,’ she perked up, ‘that happened because I was so homesick.’
Charlotte felt like patting herself on the back. The school debating club had come in useful for something.
‘Mmm.’ Rosie took another sip of her tea. ‘Well, if that’s all that’s really the matter …’ She stopped. ‘Not that I’m belittling the fact you feel homesick. But if that really is the problem, then I have a solution.’
She took a deep breath.
‘I think the ideal situation would be for you to go back to school, but to come back here during half-term and holidays. Weekends if you’re really feeling homesick.’
Charlotte’s heart sank for the second time. She tried to make her eyes tear up, but they stayed dry as a bone.
‘But Rosie, I want to be here all the time. I want to live here. Not just visit during the holidays.’ She knew her voice was sounding whiny, which was never good, but she couldn’t help it. So much for her drama lessons.
Rosie sat back and looked at her sister.
She then looked at her watch.
‘Think about it, Charlie. Really think about it. Remember, Harrogate has been your home for the past six years. You may well miss it if you just up and leave and never go back.’
Charlotte had to clamp her mouth shut.
‘Just give it some thought, eh?’ Rosie said, getting up and grabbing her boxed gas mask and handbag. She kissed her sister on the head.
‘And try and get an early night. You’ll be up early tomorrow for work, don’t forget.’
Chapter Eleven
‘Mon Dieu!’ Lily said, making no attempt to conceal her exasperation.
‘The girl’s fourteen years old now! She’s old enough to go out and get a job. I really, really do not understand you, Rosie! Why on earth can’t you just tell her about this place?’ She gestured at the rather beautifully decorated front reception room that was now Rosie’s office.
At that moment George walked in.
When he saw the look on his future wife’s face, as well as the one on the young woman he thought of as his own flesh and blood, he wished he could rewind the last thirty seconds and carry on walking down the hallway to the back parlour.
‘Thank Gawd for that,’ Lily said, ushering her fiancé into the room. ‘Perhaps you can talk some sense into this obstinate enfant, George!’
Rosie opened her mouth in outrage.
George immediately stepped forward so that he was strategically placed between the two women. It was never good to hear Lily swing between faux French and natural-born cockney in the space of a breath.
‘Well, I think we should start by calming down,’ George said, firmly. He had automatically put his two hands out and was suddenly reminded of a referee standing in the middle of a boxing ring, warning the two opponents to stay apart.
‘I’m guessing,’ he said, ‘that this has to do with Charlotte.’
‘Rosie,’ said George, ‘would you mind pouring me a cognac, please?’ He turned to Lily. ‘And darling, can you sit yourself down on the chaise longue?’
Lily looked at George, ignored his request and stomped over to Rosie’s desk. She snatched up her packet of Gauloises, pulled out a cigarette and lit it before walking over to the fireplace with the ashtray, all the while glowering at Rosie, who was standing with her hands on her hips.
As no one seemed willing to do what he’d asked, George poured his own brandy and sat down in the leather chesterfield armchair that had been placed in front of the desk for clients who came to settle their bill.
‘Tell me from the start,’ he said directly to Rosie. ‘What’s happened with Charlotte?’
‘George, you know exactly what’s “happened with Charlotte”,’ Lily butted in before Rosie had a chance to answer. ‘The girl’s run away from that posh school of hers and is now here – back in her home town.’
She took a deep draw on her cigarette.
‘Of course, as per the norm, we were the last to know. And as per the norm, we got to know second-hand through Kate. After everyone else.’
Another deep draw.
‘Charlotte had even started at the yard! Everyone at Thompson’s knew before us.’
‘God, Lily,’ Rosie huffed, ‘I’ll never understand this obsession you have with being told everything first.’
‘We were even the last to know you’d got married!’ Lily said, ignoring Rosie and glaring across at George for support but seeing only the bottom of his brandy glass. ‘Every Tom, Dick and Harry knew you’d tied the knot with your detective sergeant before we did.’
‘Lily, I told you as soon as I could,’ Rosie defended herself.
‘No, you didn’t. You could have rung us from Guildford.’
Rosie looked at Lily and George and realised for the first time that they had been hurt. She could have called them from the hotel. She just hadn’t thought to.
‘Let’s keep on track,’ George said. ‘Kate told us that Charlotte turned up late on Friday night after that awful air raid. And that you had her working at Thompson’s yesterday.’
He smiled at Rosie.
‘So, tell me, what’s happened?’
Seeing Lily about to butt in again, George threw her a warning look.
‘Well,’ Rosie sighed. ‘Charlie’s claiming to be homesick. Seems to be adamant that she wants to come back and live here.’
‘“Claiming?”’ George said. ‘Sounds like you’re not totally convinced.’
‘I’m not,’ Rosie said. ‘Well, I do think there’s an element of truth in it. I think she is probably homesick.’
‘Probably been homesick the whole time she’s been there,’ Lily mumbled under her breath to George.
‘But I think there’s more to it,’ Rosie said. ‘Only, for whatever reason, she’s not saying.’
‘What I don’t understand,’ Lily said, ‘is why obsess about what is making her want to come back? The girl’s clearly unhappy where she is, and at fourteen she knows her own mind enough to be able to choose where she lives.’
‘Lily, she may well be fourteen, but she’s still young for her age. She’s been cosseted.’
‘Which is exactly why it’s time she started living in the real world.’ Lily stubbed her cigarette out and marched over to pour herself a brandy.
‘Which is exactly why I’m doing what I’m doing at the moment,’ Rosie countered, ‘and getting her to work at Thompson’s.’
‘Pah!’
Lily coughed as the brandy caught the back of her throat in her eagerness to get her words out.
‘What you are doing, Rosie, ma chère, is actually the opposite. You are putting her to work in that dirty, noisy shipyard in an attempt to make her feel that the real world is so bleedin’ awful she’d rather go running back to Harrogate.
‘I’m surprised you think she’ll take the soft option. I might not ever have been allowed to meet Charlotte, but I think I know her a damn sight better than you do. I would bet the total cost of my wedding, which is substantial – ’
George muttered his agreement.
‘ – that your little sister would rather slum it in the yard, earning a pittance, than go back to that school she clearly hates so much.’
‘Have you thought any more about the Sunderland Church High School up the road?’ George ventured.
‘I have,’ Rosie said, sitting back down in her chair. Lily’s words had hit a nerve. ‘But that doesn’t get around the main issue.’
She sighed.
‘If she lives here permanently, it is inevitable that she will find out about this place and that I used to work here – still do.’
‘And that you own half the business!’ Lily added vehemently.
There was a pause.
‘Does Charlotte know about the school up the road?’ Lily asked.
‘No,’ Rosie said quickly. ‘And there’s no way I want her to find out about it, otherwise she’ll start a campaign to go there.’
‘It would be cheaper,’ George suggested tentatively.
Lily walked over and sat on the arm of George’s chair.
‘And she’d still be getting a top-notch education,’ Lily added.
‘And it does sound like Charlotte is genuinely homesick,’ George said.
Lily put her hand on his shoulder.
Rosie looked at the pair. She loved them both dearly. They were the most non-judgemental, freethinking people she had ever come across. Which was why they couldn’t understand just how devastating it would be for Charlotte to find out that the sister she looked up to had sold her body for money.
‘Charlotte’s going to have to find out one day,’ Lily said, reading her thoughts. ‘And more importantly, she needs to know the reason for you coming here to work. She needs to know that everything you have done, you have done for her. And it’s only because of what you’ve done that you’ve been able to give her the best possible start in life.’
As if on cue there was a rap on the door and Maisie appeared, closely followed by Vivian. Rosie suspected the pair had been eavesdropping.
‘What’s up with you two?’ Lily asked, staring at them whilst dabbing her neck with a handkerchief she had just pulled from her ample cleavage. She didn’t know what was wrong with her these days. She was either piping hot or freezing cold. ‘You both look full of joie de vivre?’ she said with a puzzled expression.
‘Well,’ Maisie said, patting down her hair, ‘we have two Admiralty in this evening. They’ve just been billeted at the Grand.’
‘Gawd, I hope there’s not too many staying there when we’re celebrating our nuptials.’ Lily cast a look at George and winked.
‘They want two escorts for a night on the town,’ Maisie said.
‘And naturally,’ Vivian stepped forward, ‘they chose us.’
‘Mmm,’ Lily said, knowing the other girls wouldn’t have got a look in and that it would have been a case of Maisie and Vivian choosing the two naval officers rather than the other way round. There was a reason these two young women standing in front of her now were her top earners. They had a nose for money – and more importantly, for those willing to spend it.
‘All right,’ Lily said, going to the mirror above the mantelpiece and fluffing up her bird’s nest of orange hair and wrestling her bosom into position. She still looked a little red, but at least she’d stopped sweating. ‘Let me go and introduce myself and then I’ll send them in to you, Rosie.’
Everyone made their way out of the office.
Lily was the last to go and turned before she left.
‘Charge them double,’ she said. Her face was now all business. ‘More if they want an overnight. Dinner is to be included. A private car to bring them back here and a time. I want to know when they’ll be back. Officers don’t always mean gentlemen.’
Rosie nodded. Lily was always a little on edge wh
enever any of her girls had to leave the safety of the bordello to do a job. But she also knew that tonight Lily wouldn’t be overly worried. Out of all her girls, if there were any two who were more than capable of looking after themselves, it was Maisie and Vivian.
Later on, as Rosie made her way back to Brookside Gardens, she mulled over her head-to-head with Lily. Even George had shown her which side he was on this evening. Something he’d refrained from doing previously.
Lily was right. Everything she’d done, she’d done for Charlotte. But that was why it was imperative that her sister didn’t find out about Lily’s.
How would that make Charlotte feel, knowing the money Rosie had made from sleeping with strangers had funded her education?
There was no other option. Charlie was going back to Harrogate, by hook or by crook. Or by force, if Rosie had to.
Chapter Twelve
Monday 19 October
When Polly walked through the swing doors of the post-operative ward, she stopped in her tracks on seeing two of the other patients by the side of Tommy’s bed. They had a wheelchair and were helping Tommy to manoeuvre himself into it.
When one of the injured soldiers, who was called Percival, looked up and saw her approaching, he put his finger to his lips and pointed to the bottom of the ward where the matron was standing with her back to them. She was listening to the laments of another injured soldier called Shorty, who, strangely enough, was anything but short.
Walking on tiptoes over to Tommy and his two accomplices, Polly whispered, ‘What are you all doing?’
‘We’re springing him from this joint,’ Percival whispered back with a convincing American accent.
‘Got to get a bit of fresh air,’ Tommy said, giving Polly a wink.
Polly looked at the matron, who was still standing with her back to them, and then down at Tommy, grimacing in pain as he hauled himself off the bed and into the wheelchair.