by Carol Rivers
She thanked him and made her way carefully up the reinforced wooden steps, holding tightly to the wooden handrail. At the very top she paused to stare over the river and her breath was taken once more. Ships of all kinds were moored on either side of the Thames, some even laying two and three abreast, disgorging or loading their cargoes one by one. Vast new sheds had been erected to house the goods and the smell of tar and timber was as inebriating as alcohol.
Just as unique as the smell of burning oil and petrol was during the war. Despite the daily terrors of the bombing she had been happy working in the armaments factory and loved the atmosphere of them and us, the feeling of real comradeship as the nation rallied against invasion. Rose inhaled and a little shiver of pleasure trickled along her spine. No one had thought the island would ever look like this again.
‘Just look at it now,’ Rose breathed wonderingly, amazed and delighted as she hovered on the small, windy landing feasting her eyes.
She gave a deep sigh and turned back to the small wooden door in front of her. ‘Time to sort the men from the boys,’ she told herself as she pushed it open and walked inside.
It was the noise that surprised her the most. Big, clattering typewriters pounded away, the heads of the women who operated them all bent as they struggled to keep the mountains of paperwork in order.
No one looked up, even when the draught she let in rattled through the office. Rose looked for the board that Alan had seen. But before she had time to search all the walls that seemed crammed with every conceivable size of notice, a young woman with short fair hair and spectacles walked towards her. ‘Can I help you?’
Rose went red. ‘I’ve come to apply for the job,’ she mumbled, wishing now she had pinned her hair up and worn a nice white blouse and dark skirt just as this smart young woman had. ‘A clerk’s vacancy?’ she added, clearing her throat.
‘Oh, that one,’ the girl shouted above the clack of typewriters. ‘It’s gone I’m afraid. Went almost immediately.’
Rose couldn’t hide her disappointment. ‘Oh, what a pity.’
The girl frowned, removing her spectacles to trap one end thoughtfully between her neat little teeth. ‘Are you experienced, then?’
Rose had already decided on her answer for this. ‘I worked as a typist at Horton’s during the war.’
‘Did you now? You must have seen a lot of action.’
Rose smiled. ‘A bit. I need to find a job quickly, you see. I have two small children and I’m the breadwinner of the family at the moment.’ She hoped she wasn’t going to be asked more.
‘I see.’ The girl hesitated and Rose’s heart leapt. It raced even more when the young woman smiled brightly and crooked a finger. ‘Come with me, you can’t hear a word in here.’
Maybe there’s a chance, Rose thought excitedly as she followed the slim, neat figure through a door and into a smaller office furnished with two medium-sized desks. A young man wearing a striped woolly jumper sat behind one of them. He looked up and smiled in a friendly, absent sort of way then went quickly back to his writing.
‘That’s Ben, our bookkeeper,’ the girl introduced. ‘And I’m Phyllis, the general manager’s secretary. You would be—?’
‘Rose. Rose Weaver.’
‘How do you do?’ She shook Rose’s hand. ‘Well, Rose, it’s a question of how desperate you really are.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘I know our canteen supervisor is looking for a temporary replacement. But if you are a skilled typist, you won’t be interested I suppose.’
‘Canteen,’ Rose pondered then shrugged. ‘Is it full time?’
‘I think so. Wait a moment, I’ll find out.’ Phyllis picked up a telephone. She covered the mouthpiece and gestured to a chair. ‘Sit down.’
Rose did so, noting the big, wide windows that stretched the length of the room. The office was elevated and she could see the tops of the forklift trucks as they went about their business downstairs.
‘Yes, I’ve someone here now,’ Phyllis was saying. ‘What shall I tell her?’ The conversation ended rather abruptly and she looked at Rose. ‘Mrs House is coming to speak to you.’
‘Is Mrs House the supervisor?’
‘Yes and she’s really very nice. A heart of gold actually, so don’t be daunted when you meet her.’
Rose wondered what this could mean. She suddenly felt very nervous, but Phyllis was talking again. ‘So you didn’t evacuate in the war?’
‘No. I didn’t want to be parted from my sister.’
‘What about your parents?’ the girl asked curiously.
‘They died in the first of the raids. I was eleven when war was declared, Em was nearly seventeen.’
‘Oh, you poor things.’ Phyllis sighed. ‘I was evacuated in the war and missed all the excitement.’
Rose smiled. ‘At least you were safe.’
‘I couldn’t get home quick enough. I didn’t like the country at all.’
‘How long have you worked here?’
‘Five-and-a-half years. I live in Greenwich and have to walk through the foot tunnel to get here but it’s worth it. Kirkwood’s are a good bunch. But we are terribly busy. The typing pool isn’t big enough to cope now the docks are so lively. Post-war regeneration and all that. We’re thinking of expanding, actually.’
‘So there might be clerical jobs in the future?’ Rose asked hopefully.
‘Oh yes, indeed. At least you’ll be on the spot to apply for it.’ The girl’s bright eyes sparkled.
Rose felt much more positive now. ‘Thanks ever so much.’
‘Not at all. I hope we’ll meet again. Must go now.’ She stood up and gave a broad smile to the woman who walked into the room. ‘Oh, Gwen, this is the young lady I was telling you about. Rose Weaver, meet Gwen House our canteen supervisor.’
Rose stood up holding out her hand to one of the largest women she had ever seen in her life. She was taller than many men and shaped like the trunk of a tree from her head which had very little neck to balance on, down to her swollen and rather painful looking ankles. A vast white pinafore draped over her huge breasts added to the illusion of size. She had small, rather piggy eyes set in a heavy-featured face. Her hair was invisible as it was clamped to her broad skull by a thick white net.
‘So you’re after a job, then?’ came the unnervingly loud demand and Rose nodded dumbly as the woman looked her slowly up and down with, Rose thought, a rather sceptical eye.
Em was working at the sewing machine in the bedroom. One of Marlene’s dresses was under the needle, a seam in the process of repair.
‘What happened?’ she asked eagerly as Rose walked in.
‘I had an interview.’
‘You did?’
‘Yes. And I start on Monday.’
Em leapt to her feet, throwing her arms around Rose. ‘Oh you clever, clever girl.’
Rose smiled faintly. ‘Don’t get too excited. I missed the clerk’s vacancy.’
‘Well, never mind,’ her sister shrugged, taking Rose’s hands and steering her to the hard-backed wooden chair. ‘What did you get instead?’
Rose sank down. ‘I’m going to be a canteen assistant.’
Em’s face fell. ‘Oh Rose!’
‘A girl named Phyllis who works in the typing pool at Kirkwood’s told me the job was going and asked me if I was desperate enough to take it.’
‘But you’re skilled, Rose. You seem to have forgotten that.’
‘Beggars can’t be choosers.’ She realized what she’d said. ‘Oh, I don’t mean that literally, but clerk’s jobs go very quickly. The advantage of working at Kirkwood’s,’ she added quickly as her sister looked more and more dismayed, ‘is that they’re expanding. And if any jobs are advertised, I’ll be able to apply immediately.’
Em nodded slowly. ‘Yes, I see the sense in that.’
Em sat back on the chair. ‘Well, I think you’re a good sport, Rose. But then you always were.’
Rose smiled at her sister’s response. ‘Anyway, I’ve got a month’s trial. If I
don’t like it, there’s no harm done.’
‘Are you given a uniform?’
‘An overall,’ Rose explained, shuddering even now at the thought of the one she’d seen Mrs House wearing, and that horrible thick white net across her head . . . Rose sighed inwardly but kept the smile on her face for her sister’s benefit.
‘Are you sure this is what you want?’
Rose nodded firmly. ‘Yes, I’m sure. I’m very lucky to have you to look after the girls.’
Em gave one of her increasingly frequent little twitches, a shake of her head and a sigh combined. It was almost like a tic, Rose thought worriedly. When had it first started?
‘I’d better get on,’ Em said with a little flourish of her hand. ‘I’m just doing a few repairs.’
Rose had already noted the three piles of clothes folded neatly on the blue eiderdown of the bed. She identified Marlene’s as the highest pile, the smaller one as Donnie’s and finally her own, which consisted of two skirts and a pair of trousers.
Em was squinting, licking the white cotton thread as she pulled it through the needle of the machine. ‘Mine and Will’s are complete. Yours won’t take very long.’
‘But Em, I should be doing those.’
‘I want to make myself useful.’
‘I know, but all the same . . .’
‘Tell me if you’d rather I didn’t.’
Rose knew that tone of voice, and although she felt strange having someone else doing her work, she didn’t want to hurt her sister’s feelings. ‘Just don’t tire yourself out, that’s all.’
‘Of course not. I like to keep busy.’
The heavy treadle began to echo round the house. ‘I’ll go down and see the children.’
Rose watched her sister working with intense concentration as her nimble fingers passed the material deftly under the needle. Realizing she was in another world now, Rose went downstairs to the kitchen.
A big pot of stew was on the hob. It smelled delicious. Rose marvelled at her sister’s domestic dexterity. The house had never looked so clean, the food had never smelled so good or the tea tasted so sweet. Even if Eddie’s shoebox had been stolen and they were poorer than they had ever been in their lives, even if the trouble at school seemed insurmountable and even if she hadn’t got the job she wanted, she was grateful for all she had.
Rose looked through the window and saw Donnie and Will in the yard. They were playing ball, their books abandoned. Will’s blond head caught the sunshine and Donnie’s dark locks were set free from her plaits flowing like silk over her shoulders. Will, at ten, was taller than his cousin, but he was all skinny arms and legs. Donnie on the other hand looked a picture of rosy-cheeked health.
Rose thought how happy they looked. She was relieved that she wouldn’t have to take Donnie and Marlene with her to a school or factory whilst she cleaned. She was quite looking forward, now, to working in the canteen.
Will had fallen asleep on the camp bed but the girls were still awake and listening attentively as Rose told them her news.
‘Who will look after us when you’re not here?’ This from Marlene.
‘Auntie Em of course.’
‘Is she going to live with us?’
‘For a while.’
‘Can we still play in the street?’
‘Yes, if Auntie Em says so.’
Marlene seemed satisfied. ‘Auntie Em’s stews are lovely.’
‘I know,’ Rose grinned.
‘Do you have to work on Saturdays?’ Donnie’s dark eyes were anxious and Rose was already anticipating her reluctance to attend school in the morning.
‘No. We can go to market as usual.’
‘Alan Mendoza’s got a girlfriend,’ Marlene said, bursting into giggles.
Rose raised an eyebrow. ‘How do you know that?’
‘I saw them kissing. They was on the debris.’
‘What were you doing there?’
‘Nothing. I just walked by it.’
Rose found herself suspicious now of her younger daughter. There was a lot more to Marlene, she acknowledged after the Michael Curtis episode, than met the eye.
‘Well, Alan’s at work now. He’s old enough to have a girlfriend.’
‘How old do you have to be, then?’
‘That’s enough questions,’ Rose decided as she pulled up their sheets and kissed their soft, sweet-smelling heads. ‘Goodnight and God bless, darlings.’
She was just closing the door when she heard Marlene’s noisy whisper. ‘You should tell that Diane Balls our Dad’s gonna knock her block off when he comes out of prison. That’ll scare the daylights out of her!’
Rose lay awake in bed that night, her mind busy. She had actually got herself a job. How would she like working in a canteen? Could she do what was expected of her? She had only ever cooked for the family; would she be expected to know how to prepare intricate dishes? Mrs House had indicated that her job would include washing up. She was safe there; she could wash up blindfolded!
Suddenly there was a scream and Em sat bolt upright in the bed beside her.
‘No, no,’ she shouted, waving her hands and staring at the wall in front of her.
‘Em, wake up,’ Rose cried, her own heart thumping.
‘Leave him alone!’ Em shouted again as she fought off an invisible assailant. ‘You devil, leave him alone!’
‘Em – you’re dreaming, wake up,’ Rose cried as she caught her sister’s wrists, afraid she would do herself some damage. But their struggle went on until Rose shouted very loud indeed. Em sat suddenly quite still and as stiff as a poker.
‘Lay down dear,’ Rose coaxed softly. ‘Go to sleep now.’ She pushed her back and pulled the sheet up to her chin. Rose felt chilled. What had happened to make her sister dream such nightmares?
A few minutes later Rose listened to the rhythmic breathing beside her. The nightmare was over. But Em had called someone a devil. Could that be Arthur? Rose tucked under the covers too, her eyes peering around the dark room. It was full of shadows. She hoped Arthur’s spirit was not in the vicinity, for if truth be told she had never been fond of him in life, let alone death.
‘Sleep tight, dear,’ she whispered to Em who rolled on her side with a deep, satisfied sigh.
Rose closed her eyes. Within minutes, she was asleep.
Chapter Twelve
‘’Bye, Mum.’
‘’Bye, love.’ It was Tuesday morning and Rose kissed the top of Marlene’s head. Her youngest daughter skipped happily into the playground.
‘I feel sick,’ Donnie said, not unexpectedly.
Rose drew her to one side as the other children passed by. ‘Do you remember how David killed Goliath?’
Donnie nodded uncertainly. ‘With his sling.’
‘And a tiny little stone.’
Donnie thought about this. ‘Yes, but we’re not allowed to throw stones.’
‘Of course not,’ Rose smiled. ‘The stone is just a symbol of David’s courage. He took aim with his sling and his stone killed the giant, but he had to be brave and trust in God.’
‘But that was a long time ago. Before Jesus was even born.’
‘It doesn’t make any difference. The Bible tells us these stories so we can put them to use in our lives.’
‘But what shall I do if Diane wallops me?’
‘Bullies will back down if you show you’re not afraid.’
‘Like the giant you mean?’
Rose smiled as her heart almost broke at the sight of Donnie’s drooping shoulders. ‘Yes, like the giant.’
‘So I have to wallop her back?’
‘It won’t do to run away,’ Rose said gently. ‘And if you don’t want me to come in to speak to your teacher—’
‘No,’ Donnie replied fiercely. ‘I don’t.’
‘Well, then.’ She gave Donnie the note. ‘I’ve told Miss Dent that you had a tummy ache yesterday.’
Rose watched Donnie walk slowly through the school gates. The whistle was blo
wn and the children formed lines. Two minutes later the playground was empty.
‘Rose, are you ill?’ Em shouted from the yard.
‘I’ll be out in a minute. It’s just a gippy tummy.’ She would have to go to the doctor and get something stronger than the Milk of Magnesia. It was no use at all, in fact the medicine seemed to make her worse. She was certain now that she was developing an ulcer, a condition her mother had suffered with after her pregnancies. Rose could remember the discomfort her mother had undergone when she’d been tempted off her diet and eaten fatty foods. Tummy ulcers had blighted her life until rationing. For the first two years of the war her mother’s health had improved under the austere, enforced diet, the irony being that she was in better health than ever before when she lost her life in 1942.
Rose had examined all round her stomach and sometimes imagined she could detect a small round lump, which was ridiculous. Ulcers were embedded in the lining of the stomach but she knew enough about them to recognize her symptoms. She hadn’t been eating regularly lately, at least not until Em had arrived and insisted on two square meals a day. But now the sickness refused to go away whatever she did. As healthy as Em’s meals were, Rose had no real appetite for them.
A quarter of an hour later she opened the washhouse door very gingerly. The warm summer’s morning was a delight to behold and Rose wished dearly she could summon up some enthusiasm for life. She hoped Em wouldn’t fuss.
‘You look dreadful,’ Em said as Rose walked into the kitchen.
‘I feel better now. Where’s Will?’
‘He’s out in the street with Ashley Green, a little boy from number forty-two. He’s off school with a swollen ankle but he seems to be walking around all right.’
Rose nodded approvingly. ‘Ashley is Sharon and Derek Green’s eldest. He has two sisters who sometimes play with the girls.’
‘Yes, they got to know each other that first day we came. He’s a nice kid.’
‘I’ll just sit down a minute.’
‘What is it, do you think?’ Em’s fingers were already busy with the teapot, pulling a cosy over its lid and patting its fat round sides. ‘A tummy upset?’
Rose nodded. ‘I expect so.’