by Nancy Revell
‘Eee, never!’ Angie was gobsmacked.
‘But why would she do that?’ Polly asked.
‘Because she’s been up to no good and the school want to speak to me about her behaviour, from what I can gather. The deputy head didn’t want to chat on the phone, so I’m going to have to go down there and see if I can sort this out … You all right taking charge while I’m gone?’ Rosie looked across at Gloria as they all got their clocking-off cards ready for Alfie.
‘Of course,’ Gloria said, handing her card in first.
As they all boarded the ferry, Bel sidled up to Rosie. ‘Marie-Anne’s been asking questions,’ she said quietly.
‘I thought she might. She’s a lovely girl, but such a nebby-nose,’ Rosie said.
Bel chuckled.
‘She’s a more refined version of Muriel.’
Rosie laughed for the first time.
‘That’s a good way of putting it.’
‘But, I do think that – unlike Muriel – Marie-Anne can keep her mouth shut when need be,’ Bel volunteered.
‘Well, it’s not that Charlotte’s going to boarding school is some great secret. It’s just something that I don’t like to broadcast,’ Rosie said. ‘I don’t mind her knowing, as long as she keeps it to herself. And if she can keep up the pretence that I’m a secretary should the school ever ring again, I’d be eternally grateful.’
Again, Rosie didn’t elaborate on the reason for her saying she was a secretary rather than a welder, but Bel guessed why. She was sure Rosie must have spun some sort of yarn as to how she could afford Charlotte’s fees and that her being a secretary was part of that story.
As the women shuffled off the ferry, which was rammed with workers all eager to get home or to the pub, Rosie said her goodbyes and weaved her way through the throng to catch her bus to Tunstall Road. Martha was the next to go, jumping onto a tram headed for Villette Road, where she intended to drop by to see Hannah before getting ready for her ARP duties. Dorothy and Angie managed to snake their way single-file through the crush back to Foyle Street, both champing at the bit to return to their digs and get ready to dance the night away at the Rink – while Polly, Bel and Gloria allowed themselves to be buffeted along by the current of workers heading towards the east end, all three of them lost in their own thoughts as they made their way to Tatham Street.
Chapter Forty-Four
When Rosie arrived at the bordello she felt as though she could have fought with a feather. Seeing the look of thunder on her face as she walked through the front door, three of the girls who were gossiping at the bottom of the stairs quickly fell silent.
Heading straight for her desk in her office in the front room, Rosie sat down, flung open one of her ledgers and threw herself into the bookkeeping. She intended to get up to date with the bordello, as well as the Gentlemen’s Club, which had been a little slow to take off, but which had become much more popular of late. Maisie was doing a good job, not just of managing the place, but of promoting it too.
Half an hour later Rosie heard the front door creak open. There was hardly a sound as it shut, which told her that it was Kate back from the Maison Nouvelle. Rosie jumped up from her desk and stuck her head round the office door just in time to catch her at the bottom of the staircase.
‘Kate, I need to pick your brains,’ Rosie said, coming out of the office.
‘A cuppa in the kitchen?’ Kate looked at her friend, sensing that something wasn’t quite right.
They walked into the kitchen to find it empty. ‘Goodness, I can’t believe there’s no one else here,’ Rosie said, but as soon as the words were out of her mouth, they both turned their heads as a sudden blast of laughter and chatter escaped from the back parlour.
‘I think I spoke too soon,’ Rosie said as she put the kettle on to boil.
‘Rosie! Kate! Mes chéries!’ Lily came blustering into the kitchen with a glass of wine in one hand and an unlit Gauloise in the other. She was followed by George, who had a copy of Evelyn Waugh’s Put Out More Flags under his arm. Rosie noticed he seemed to be leaning heavily on his walking stick.
‘Come and sit down, George,’ Kate said, pulling out a chair. She too had clearly seen that he needed to take the weight off his bad leg.
‘Thank you, my dear,’ he said, grimacing a little as he sat down.
‘You all right?’ Rosie asked. ‘Your leg looks like it’s giving you some gyp?’
‘No, it’s fine.’ George put his book on the kitchen table. ‘Just done a few laps of the town this afternoon with my future wife here.’
‘Of course, it’s all my fault!’ Lily butted in. ‘Dragging my future husband around the shops. But what my betrothed fails to mention is that most of the shops we went to were for his benefit. His suit’s getting that tatty he’ll be starting to look like a bleedin’ beggar off the streets before long.’ Lily looked across to Kate. ‘No offence, my dear.’
Rosie looked at Kate. She was immaculately dressed and her thick, dark brown hair was cut into a perfect short bob with a blunt fringe. As always, she was wearing one of her signature little black dresses, which never looked sombre, just stylish. The transformation her friend had undergone never ceased to amaze her.
‘We spent more time in that bookshop on Fawcett Street than anywhere else. I thought I was going to die of boredom,’ Lily said.
‘Clearly you didn’t,’ Rosie said. ‘Far from it.’ Lily pretended not to hear and sat herself down at the head of the table and lit her cigarette. ‘Anyway, you two look like you’re up to something.’
‘We may have just wanted to catch up,’ Rosie said. Seeing George start to push himself out of his chair, she stood up. ‘Stay there, George, I’ll get it.’ She threw a reprimanding look over at Lily, before going over to the armoire and retrieving a bottle of single malt and George’s favourite whisky glass. She poured him a good measure, handed him the tumbler, and put the bottle of Glenfiddich on the table.
‘So, come on, spit it out,’ Lily demanded, pulling the ashtray towards her. ‘What’s up?’
Rosie poured the boiling water into the teapot and carried it over to the kitchen table.
‘I need Kate to sort me out with an outfit,’ Rosie said. ‘Ooh, you off gallivanting somewhere?’ Lily asked, a quizzical look on her heavily made-up face.
‘Not that kind of an outfit,’ Rosie said, looking across the table at Kate, who she knew had a variety of second-hand clothes at the boutique.
‘I need something that’s conservative.’ She paused. ‘Something you would imagine a secretary from quite a well-to-do background might wear if she’s going somewhere important.’
‘So, it’s not a social occasion?’ Kate asked.
‘No, more business,’ Rosie said.
‘You going incognito somewhere?’ Lily looked intrigued.
She took a sip of her wine; as she did so her face suddenly became animated.
‘You’re going to Charlotte’s school!’
The lack of a denial from Rosie told Lily, George and Kate that this was indeed the case.
‘Well, that sounds rather ominous,’ George said, a concerned look on his face. A look mirrored by Kate.
Rosie stirred the pot of tea, trying to keep her anger at bay. ‘What’s she done?’ Lily demanded, stubbing out her cigarette.
‘God, Lily, you always think the worst,’ Rosie said.
‘Let me guess,’ Lily shot back, ‘you don’t actually know what she’s done. You’re only going to find out when you get there. I’m guessing they’ve asked to discuss it with you in person.’
Rosie glowered at Lily.
‘Well, Charlotte’s not stupid,’ Lily said. ‘If she gets herself expelled, you won’t have any choice but to have her back here.’
‘Oh, I don’t think Charlotte would go that far,’ Kate said. ‘I mean, getting expelled is serious. Isn’t it?’
George nodded. ‘And it might scupper her chances of being accepted into another school.’
Rosie
looked at the three people around the table and thought that they all talked about Charlotte as though they knew her. In a way they did, even though they had never actually met her before.
‘I’m really, really annoyed at her,’ Rosie admitted. She sat down, deflated, as Kate got up and poured them each a cup of tea and added a splash of milk.
‘I told her to tell the school I’ve moved and to give them my new address and she did as I’d told her – but, clearly knowing she was in trouble, she decided to give them a false address.’
Lily sucked in air, pulled out another Gauloise and sparked it up.
‘The school’s been writing me letters and not getting any response,’ Rosie continued, ‘which is why the deputy head rang me this afternoon at work.’
‘Oh dear,’ George said, gravely. He knew that Rosie had told them she was a secretary at Thompson’s, but had never thought the school would ever have reason to ring her there.
‘Did they find out you were a welder – and not a secretary?’ he asked.
‘No, thank goodness. But only because Marie-Anne answered and didn’t let on,’ Rosie said.
‘I hate to say this,’ Lily blew smoke up to the ceiling, ‘but you’re going to have to bring that girl back home. And sooner rather than later. She’s clearly going off the rails and if you don’t get her back on track, like George says you mightn’t even be able to get her into the Church High School up the road. They won’t want to be taking on troublemakers.’
Rosie took a sip of her tea. She knew she couldn’t run away from this problem for much longer.
There was a moment’s thoughtful silence before the quiet was broken by the kitchen door swinging open.
‘So sorry we’re late, Lily!’ Maisie sounded bright and cheery. She was followed by Vivian, wearing a red fishtail dress that Kate had made and which was an exact replica of the one worn by Mae West in I’m No Angel – Vivian’s favourite film.
‘We got held up,’ Vivian said in her near perfect American drawl. ‘Those men can talk!’
Lily waved her hand about, signalling the pair to sit down.
‘That’s not a problem,’ she said, ‘work comes first. Besides, it’s given me a chance to catch up with Rosie.’
Lily took a sip of wine and looked around the table. She took a deep breath.
‘I just wanted to get you all together to tell you that George and I have finally set a date for our wedding!’
‘Hurrah! At last!’ Kate said. ‘That’s great news!’ Maisie said.
‘Fabulous.’ Vivian shot her best friend a look. They were particularly pleased as they knew the marriage would give Lily, and therefore her business interests, a façade of respectability.
‘And the date is?’ Rosie asked.
‘Saturday the nineteenth of December,’ George answered, raising his whisky glass and taking a drink.
‘Ooh, how exciting! A winter wedding!’ Kate said.
‘So, where are you going to have it?’ Maisie asked.
‘The registry office in John Street, followed by a good old knees-up at the Grand!’ Lily said.
Maisie’s and Vivian’s eyes widened with excitement. This was clearly going to be a no-expense-spared wedding.
‘We put the deposit down this afternoon, so there’s no bailing out,’ George declared, looking across at Lily.
‘So, that’s why you’ve both been doing laps of the town today?’ Rosie asked.
‘Exactly,’ Lily said.
‘As long as you weren’t trying on any wedding dresses,’
Kate said.
‘Heaven forbid!’ Lily said in mock earnestness. ‘There’s only one shop I’ll be going to for my dress!’
‘Only the best for the future Mrs Macalister,’ George said, winking at Kate.
‘So,’ Kate said excitedly, ‘I’ve got three months to create the most amazingly extravagant wedding dress ever!’
‘Yes, ma chère, let’s sit down when we’ve got shot of this lot – ’ Lily threw a mischievous look at her audience ‘– and then I can tell you exactly what kind of dress I would like to get married in, and you can tell me exactly what you think I should have.’
Kate’s face shone with excitement as she pushed her chair back and stood up.
‘I’ll just go and get some of my bridal magazines. I’ve been collecting them since Bel’s wedding.’ Kate hurried out of the room.
Everyone chuckled.
‘Well, that’s Kate in seventh heaven from now until Christmas,’ Rosie said, taking a sip of her tea.
‘But let’s not forgot George here,’ Maisie said. ‘What will the groom be wearing on the big day?’
‘What about your old officer’s uniform?’ Vivian asked. George shook his head. ‘Oh no, my dear, there’ll be no uniforms at our wedding. I think we’ve all had enough of war.’
Rosie looked at George. She thought of the medals in her bedside cabinet, and his freshly pressed uniform hanging up in Dorothy’s and Angie’s wardrobe.
‘Lily’s forcing me to splash out on a new suit. We must have been to every tailor in town and after much deliberation in each and every one of those shops,’ he cast Lily a sidelong glance, ‘my betrothed has picked out one that is to her liking from Blacketts.’
‘And a bleedin’ good choice it is, if I say so myself,’ Lily said, sipping her wine.
‘And what about the guest list?’ Vivian asked. ‘How many people are you inviting?’
George coughed and poured himself another whisky. ‘Let’s just say it’s as long as my arm!’ he declared. ‘Actually, both of my arms!’
Lily tutted.
‘Well, the maximum allowed at the Grand is a hundred.
So, that’s exactly how many invites will be going out, which might sound like a lot,’ Lily shot a look of reprimand at George, ‘but actually isn’t. Not when you consider that all the girls will be invited, and a handful of our regulars. Then there’s all George’s old cronies, some of my old cronies from London, and we’ll be inviting all your women welders,’ Lily looked at Rosie, ‘and, of course, Charlotte will be invited too, which means we might finally get to meet her, especially as she won’t have to miss any school since she’ll be on her holidays.’ She paused. ‘Providing, of course, that she’s still at the school.’
Maisie and Vivian saw the frosty looks exchanged between Lily and Rosie and guessed that Charlotte had – yet again – been the topic under discussion before their late arrival.
‘And,’ Lily looked at Maisie, ‘invites will be going to Bel and her family, and Pearl, Gawd help us … Vivian dear, just give us the names of anyone you might like to bring along – family or otherwise.’
‘Here we are!’ Kate nudged the kitchen door with her back and staggered in with a pile of magazines she could barely see over.
She dumped them in the middle of the table.
‘I think that’s our cue to exit,’ George said, picking up his book and his drink. He was followed out by Rosie, Maisie and Vivian.
Kate had opened one of the magazines and had her pencil and drawing pad to hand by the time the kitchen door swung shut.
Chapter Forty-Five
After picking Hope up from Beryl’s, Gloria hurried back home, but rather than go down to her basement flat, she went round to the main entrance and rang the bell to Mr Brown’s.
Relieved that the old man was happy to babysit Hope, she then raced up the road and jumped on a bus to the Royal.
Once there, the receptionist gave Gloria directions to where Helen was.
Keeping her fingers firmly crossed, and her eyes peeled so that she did not bump into Miriam should she be visiting, Gloria hurried up the stairwell and along the corridor before arriving outside Helen’s room. Putting her ear to the door and listening for voices inside, Gloria felt confident that there was no one else there. Knocking lightly on the door, she opened it a fraction and looked in.
Helen turned her head to see who was there.
‘Gloria!’ She pushed hersel
f into a sitting position.
‘You all right me visiting like this?’ Gloria asked straight away.
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Helen said, plumping up her pillow with her free hand; her other was still hooked up to a drip.
Gloria stepped tentatively into the room.
‘I was worried yer mam might be here. Or yer granddad,’ she said, still looking concerned.
‘No, no,’ Helen said, her voice croaky. ‘I gave John strict instructions to tell them that they were not to visit. They are the last people on earth I would want here now. And I think they probably know that.’ She gestured to Gloria to come in and sit down on the chair by the bed. ‘Besides, they’re probably both out celebrating,’ she added bitterly.
Gloria thought this might well be the case after what Bel had said.
‘So, tell me what happened?’ Gloria said, sitting down and looking at Helen’s unnaturally pale face.
Helen’s chest rose as she breathed in, trying to fight back the tears, but it was no good, there was no stopping the grief.
Tears started to run down her face.
She opened her mouth to speak the terrible truth but couldn’t.
The most awful, heart-rending wail came in the place of words, and it was all Gloria needed to hear.
She got up, perched herself on the side of Helen’s bed and put her arms around the young woman whose desolation was so painfully clear.
For a good while, Helen sobbed her heart out, all the while clinging to Gloria as though she were a life buoy without which she would surely drown.
Chapter Forty-Six
Tuesday 15 September
At the end of the shift Rosie had a quick word with Gloria about what she wanted the squad to do while she was gone, before reassuring Marie-Anne that her second-in-command was more than capable of cracking the whip and maintaining their work output. Rosie also told Marie-Anne that, if it was possible, she would only take the one day off, and that she’d try her hardest to be back on Thursday. Rosie knew Marie-Anne was under pressure. With Helen off on the sick, and Harold being Harold, her responsibilities had suddenly jumped from those of head secretary to acting manager.