The Postmistress

by Maggie Sullivan

  ‘What’s going on?’ Penny came up to join her and was peering down at the mechanic. ‘What’s he doing here? Can’t keep his hands off you for more than a minute, eh?’ She turned to Rosie who clenched her jaw to prevent an angry retort. But she didn’t have time to form a reasoned response before the stranger said, ‘The machine just stopped and I’m waiting for it to be fixed so’s I can go off my shift.’

  A few minutes later, Trevor emerged from under the tangle of wires and pipes, his face shining with sweat, triumphantly brandishing what looked like a small key.

  ‘God knows how it got wedged down there,’ he said, ‘but this is what was jamming up the works.’ He brushed down his overalls as he stood up.

  The young girl who’d been impatiently waiting grabbed the key. ‘Ta very much, I need that. Sorry to have bothered you!’ she said and rushed away to clock off.

  ‘Without the likes of you, darling, I’m out of a job,’ Trevor called after her, then he caught sight of Rosie and grinned. ‘A quick squirt of oil and your machine should be as right as rain,’ he said and he slid his hand across her back and pinched her bottom as if Penny wasn’t there. Rosie couldn’t prevent a yelp escaping and she glared at Trevor. He quickly flicked the switch on the side of the bench and the machine fired into life. When Rosie dared to look at him again he was earnestly gathering his tools. He looked up and winked. ‘See you later,’ he said and before she could respond he was gone.

  ‘I do wish you wouldn’t do things like that,’ Rosie said to Trevor later when they were standing outside the factory gates, taking their final puff on their cigarettes as the bell sounded the end of their dinner break.

  ‘Like what? I didn’t do owt wrong.’ Trevor looked surprised.

  ‘You know what I mean.’ Rosie was impatient.

  ‘No, I don’t. I don’t know why you’re so scared of that stuck-up little madam, Penny. I wouldn’t believe a word she says.’

  Rosie stiffened. She hated when he called the girls names.

  ‘You always seem to be scared of somebody,’ Trevor said. ‘You didn’t want me to meet your mum, did you? But there was nothing to it, in the end. What did she say when you went in?’

  ‘Nothing, really,’ Rosie had to admit. ‘She didn’t like me being out so late and particularly with a lad. You know what it’s like, “what will the neighbours say” and all that. I had to promise to be in earlier next time, but I think she was glad to see that you looked reasonably respectable.’ Rosie giggled.

  ‘See! What did I tell you? I said you worry for nothing. I’ll see you tonight, then? I can have another go at shooting them ducks.’

  ‘What? To win me a cuddly teddy?’ Rosie said not without sarcasm.

  ‘If I win, the prize will be more than a cuddly teddy bear,’ Trevor said and he gave her a long, suggestive look that made her stomach flip in the now-familiar somersault. She took a deep breath as she stamped out her cigarette and refused to look at him again. ‘I’d better get back to the bench before Penny really has something to say,’ she said.

  When they met up after tea, Rosie had changed her mind; she didn’t really want to go to the fair again

  ‘Where do you want to go, then?’ Trevor asked. He kicked at the grass on the verge that ran parallel to the Parade, and managed to dislodge a large divot.

  ‘Why can’t we just go for a walk?’ she said. ‘It’s a nice enough night. Or we could go to the pictures,’ she said. ‘The Lady Vanishes is on again at the Plaza; that’s supposed to be good and I missed it when it came out at the beginning of the year.’

  Trevor shrugged. ‘You got any money on you? Cos I haven’t.’ He pulled his trouser pockets inside out to show that they were empty.

  ‘How were you going to pay for us at the fair if you’ve no money?’ Rosie wanted to know.

  ‘I wasn’t. You were,’ he said without embarrassment. ‘You seemed to have plenty of money last night.’

  ‘But there wasn’t enough for tonight as well.’ Rosie felt cross. Where she came from, she expected a man to pay if he was taking her out.

  Trevor suddenly grinned. ‘We could always go down to the summer house in the park,’ he said. ‘That doesn’t cost owt.’

  ‘I didn’t think anyone would be there at this time of night,’ Rosie said.

  ‘That’s the idea,’ Trevor said, and Rosie thought she caught an odd glint in his eye. But she didn’t want to start an argument. ‘Come on then,’ Trevor said, his voice suddenly cajoling, ‘let’s go now.’

  ‘I’ve never actually been there,’ Rosie confessed. ‘What’s it like?’

  ‘Come with me and I’ll show you,’ he said with a broad grin and he held out his hand to her.

  Rosie thought calling it a summer house was rather too grand a way to describe the dilapidated structure they stopped in front of and she wondered if it had looked much different even when it had been at its best. Now, the once-white paint was peeling from the pillars – the only substantial part of the structure that remained. They looked as if they had been planted like trees, long ago, and they still stood in a circle, supporting the tiny dome of the roof. There was no glass between the wooden struts and a gentle breeze blew through the empty frames and across the interior, rustling the leaves that carpeted the tiled floor. Rosie stepped inside gingerly. Trevor had already sat down on the ledge that was attached to the inner circumference of the small building, without bothering to clear the debris that covered it. He didn’t seem to notice that the dried leaves, twigs and thick, soil-like dust immediately clung to his khaki drill trousers. He beckoned to her, indicating that she should sit on his knee.

  ‘Come and join me,’ he said and pulled her onto his lap. Almost immediately, his lips were on hers and, as he sealed the kiss, one hand slipped inside her jacket while the other flashed under her skirt in one fluid movement. Heat flared between her legs, radiating in all directions and she kissed him back almost involuntarily. His response was to slowly push her backwards until she was lying directly on the seat and he was parting her legs with his knee. She felt small twigs and leaves tangling in her hair but she had been so overwhelmed by the rush of excitement that seemed to take over her body that she didn’t protest. When his fingers stopped moving inside her blouse she realised it was because he was fumbling with his own buttons and she began to feel alarmed, as if it was only then that she understood the full import of what he was doing and she flailed to get free. She grunted with the effort as she tried her best to squirm out from underneath him and heaved a sigh of relief as one foot actually touched the floor. He was half-sitting, propped up on one elbow. His breathing was heavy and it took several moments before he could speak.

  ‘What on earth were you doing?’ he said eventually, his voice hoarse.

  ‘I was trying to tell you to stop,’ she said. ‘You were going way too fast for me.’

  She was close to tears.

  ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t want it as much as I did!’ he said testily.

  Rosie didn’t say anything and started to cry.

  Trevor slid down off the ledge and put his arm round her. ‘The trouble with you is that one minute you think you want to go all the way then the next you don’t.’ He ran his fingers through his hair, clutching handfuls in frustration. ‘You don’t know what you want. Do you know your problem? You’re just a bloody great tease.’

  ‘That’s not true!’ Rosie gasped. ‘I told you from the start that I didn’t want to go all the way,’ she protested. ‘I’ve never tried to pretend. And you kept saying you’d never try to push me further than I wanted to go. But that’s just what you did a minute ago.’

  Trevor stood up straight and shook his head.

  He was still breathing hard but he moved away and she was relieved to see that he had fastened his buttons.

  ‘It’s obvious you don’t love me,’ Trevor said without looking at her.

  ‘Of course I do,’ Rosie responded immediately. ‘Really, I do.’

  Trevor’s hand
moved to his belt and for a moment the look on his face softened as he said, ‘Then why won’t you show me that you do?’

  He was staring down at her and when she didn’t move he leaned in towards her and put his hand between her legs, even higher than before. Rosie was caught unawares by the sensations that rippled through her but somehow managed to stay standing.

  ‘I won’t give that away. Not until I have a ring on my finger,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster. But as she turned and began to walk slowly out of the summer house, she couldn’t help but wonder what it might have felt like if she had let him have his way.

  Chapter 17

  When Roger stopped by to pick up Ruby, the Post Office was already closed and Vicky was in the middle of making a pile of sandwiches.

  ‘I thought Ruby and I might have a bite together before she went home,’ she explained. ‘I didn’t realise she was going to be joining you for a picnic. But it’s no problem to wrap her sandwich up so she can take it with her.’

  ‘That’s very kind,’ Roger said, ‘but I think you should wrap up your sandwich and then you can come with us as well. It wouldn’t be any extra work, would it?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ Vicky said, laughing. ‘But I wasn’t suggesting that I should—’

  ‘Maybe you weren’t, but I was,’ Roger said with a grin. ‘Or, more accurately, Julie is. I know it’s a bit last minute but she asked me to ask you, and you know how insistent little girls can get.’

  A flush came to Vicky’s cheeks and she didn’t respond immediately.

  ‘Do you have anything special on this afternoon? I trust your father’s OK?’ Roger said.

  ‘He’s fine, thanks, and no, I don’t have anything special planned it’s just that …’

  ‘No excuses then,’ Roger said. ‘I’m sure Ruby won’t mind, will you?’ He turned to Ruby and Vicky was surprised by the look that flashed across her young assistant’s face.

  ‘Besides, you wouldn’t want to let Julie down, now would you?’ Roger said.

  ‘Well no, you’re right, I wouldn’t, but …’ she began, and she meant it, for she had grown very fond of Julie, and she wasn’t able to think of any reason why she shouldn’t go.

  The weather stayed fine throughout the afternoon and despite the clouds gathering ominously, there was no actual rain. Ruby seemed to be in a strange mood and almost as soon as they found a suitable place on the grassy bank to unpack the car, she had taken one of the fishing nets and wandered off to sit on her own. Vicky had become uncomfortably aware of the adoring way the young girl kept glancing at the doctor and she felt a moment of concern as she watched Ruby go, but she didn’t feel able to say anything. Things had been working out well between them at the Post Office – better than Vicky had imagined when Roger had first put forward his suggestion. It had crossed her mind, too late, that Ruby might have preferred to have had all of the doctor’s attention and not have to share it with the person who was her boss. She hoped she hadn’t jeopardised their good relationship by accepting his invitation.

  But she had little time to worry about it for she was soon diverted by Julie who commandeered her from the moment they spread out the large tarpaulin sheet and opened up their greaseproof-wrapped sandwiches. Julie didn’t leave her side all afternoon and together they filled several jam jars with what Roger pronounced to be frogspawn in varying stages of development. Julie was convinced she could see some tadpoles but it was not easy to see exactly what was swimming about in the murky water.

  By the time Ruby had rejoined them, Vicky had already played hide-and-seek and several rounds of I spy. ‘Let’s play again,’ Julie begged, tugging at Vicky’s skirt.

  Vicky gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘I think it’s time for you to have a round with Ruby, or maybe with Daddy,’ she said with a grin.

  ‘Has she worn you out?’ Roger asked as he came to sit beside her on the sheet. ‘She does have a habit of doing that.’

  But Julie was already pulling on Ruby’s arm. ‘Come and look at our jars. Vicky and I are going to have loads and loads of baby frogs very soon.’

  By the time Roger’s A7 pulled up outside the Greenhill High Street parade of shops, Vicky was feeling more relaxed than she had for a long time. ‘That was a really nice day, thank you so much for asking me,’ she said sincerely as he switched off the engine. ‘Did you enjoy it, Ruby?’ she asked, turning to the girl sitting behind her.

  ‘It was very nice. Thank you very much, Dr Buckley,’ Ruby said, sounding rather formal.

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Roger said. ‘It’s been lovely for both me and Julie to have company for a change.’ He turned his head to get an endorsement from his daughter on the back seat but Julie was sound asleep and suddenly gave a loud snore which set them all laughing.

  ‘Do you need any help getting out of the car?’ Roger asked Ruby.

  ‘No, thanks, I can do it myself,’ Ruby said stiffly.

  ‘Then I’ll say goodbye,’ he said. ‘Maybe we can do this again some time but, in the meantime, make sure you keep up with the exercises.’

  ‘Have a nice day tomorrow,’ Vicky called to Ruby, ‘and I’ll see you on Monday.’ But Ruby didn’t reply as she limped away.

  ‘I think I’d better get one very tired little girl home as soon as possible,’ Roger said. ‘Although I would like to have a word with you. But first things first.’

  Vicky was trying to find the handle to open the door on her side but she stopped, aware that he’d turned to look at her. She looked away quickly.

  ‘What do you want to talk to me about?’ she asked.

  ‘It’ll keep for the moment. But, by the way, I don’t know if you’ve seen the posters that there’s a big dance being held in Manchester next week. I wondered if you’d like to go?’ Roger said. ‘It’s at the Ritz ballroom.’

  Vicky froze for a moment, thinking of the posters she’d carefully been trying to avoid and her relaxed mood was instantly destroyed.

  When she didn’t reply Roger said, ‘You might want to think about it and let me know.’

  ‘No, I can tell you now. I’m afraid I won’t be able to go, I’m sorry,’ Vicky said quickly, her hand grasping a tight hold on the door handle. She pulled it down hard and almost tumbled out on to the pavement as the door opened.

  ‘Hold on a minute, don’t go without—’ Roger called after her. But she had already disappeared down the alley at the side of the terrace.

  Chapter 18

  When Rosie arrived home from her evening with Trevor she was so busy rehearsing an explanation for her crumpled appearance that at first she didn’t register that her mother wasn’t there. Rosie had entered the kitchen by the back door and it took her a few minutes to realise that Sylvia was preoccupied with her own concerns in the front of the shop. She was standing by the open till, busily counting out the ten shilling and pound notes and stacking the shillings, florins and half-crowns into neat piles; she didn’t seem to notice that Rosie looked somewhat dishevelled

  ‘It’s a bit late to be clearing the day’s takings, isn’t it?’ Rosie stood by the connecting door, frowning. ‘How come you didn’t do it earlier?’

  ‘I didn’t think there was any need,’ Sylvia said. ‘We haven’t had a particularly busy day today so I thought I might leave it till the morning. But then I had a call from your father to say he’s coming home.’

  ‘At this hour? I thought he was out of town?’

  ‘So did I, but it seems he came back earlier today.’

  ‘Where’s he been till now?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘The pub most like, from the sound of his voice, but not a pub round here, I bet. He hasn’t shown his face here all week, as you well know.’

  ‘Why’s he coming home all of a sudden?’

  ‘He says he needs to see us – well, me really. Says he’s got something important to tell me.’

  ‘Like what?’ Rosie said.

  ‘If I knew that I’d be clairvoyant and I wouldn’t have to wait till h
e got here to know, now would I?’ Sylvia seemed to be looking over Rosie’s shoulder. ‘Talking of which, where’s our Claire? I thought she was out with you?’

  ‘No, I’ve been for a walk with Trevor. Maybe she went to Penny’s?’

  ‘I think she’d have told me …’ Sylvia looked concerned.

  ‘Why’s it so important anyway?’ Rosie asked. ‘It’s not as though it’s late, even if she did go out.’

  ‘I like to know where she is, that’s all.’ Sylvia hesitated, then, ‘She’s never seen your dad when he’s in one of his … tempers. I thought it might be kinder to warn her to take no notice if she hears a bit of shouting. I’d hate her to walk in to the middle of something by accident.’

  ‘Maybe she’s upstairs,’ Rosie suggested. ‘You know how she often likes to go and lie on the bed and read.’

  ‘Go and see for me will you, love, while I deal with this? I’d really rather know where she is.’

  Rosie caught the panic in Sylvia’s voice and she was relieved the spotlight was not on her. At times like this she actually felt a great deal of compassion for her mother, though there was nothing she could do to help her. She followed Sylvia upstairs and watched as she took the day’s takings to her own bedroom, no doubt to add it to the savings she had managed to squirrel away in the special box she kept hidden in her wardrobe. To Rosie’s relief, Claire was in bed fast asleep, snuggled under more than her fair share of the blanket. She was about to go to tell her mother that Claire was safely at home when she heard the back door slam shut and she realised she was too late. The only thing she could do now was to slip into bed beside Claire and pull a pillow over her ears to shut out the worst of the noise.