by June Francis
‘She’s probably hopping mad right now,’ said Babs. ‘And who can blame her?’
‘Whose side are you on?’ said Rosie crossly, remembering the quarrel between her mother, aunt and grandfather. The three furious voices and faces. Had her mother’s behaviour really caused Grandfather’s death? And why hadn’t he left much money?
‘My own,’ said Babs frankly, stretching out her legs. ‘I don’t want a clout – and I don’t think this was a very good idea.’
‘It’s a bit late to say that now,’ muttered Rosie. ‘Why didn’t you say so before?’
‘Because you hustled us out of the house. You’re always bossing us.’
‘Oh, shut up,’ said Rosie, physically uncomfortable and feeling utterly fed up.
‘I want a wee,’ said Harry.
A groan issued from his sisters. ‘You’ll have to do it in the grid outside,’ said Rosie, pushing back the blankets.
‘What if we want a pooey?’ asked Dotty.
‘You blinking can’t have one,’ she said, exasperated, dragging Harry to his feet.
They had all got settled again when Dotty whispered, ‘I can hear a noise.’
They held their breath as the door creaked open. Dotty squealed. Trembling with excitement, Harry clutched at Rosie, who brushed off his hand and shot to her feet. ‘Come out, come out, whoever you are,’ she yelled.
‘I am the ghost of the midnight rocket . . .’
Rosie picked up the kettle and threw it at the figure in the doorway. ‘I suppose you think that’s funny, Davey Baxendale?’
He caught the kettle with one hand, passing the beam of a torch over them. ‘Snug as a bug in a rug,’ he said, walking over to Rosie. ‘Your aunt’s getting the local scuffer on your trail.’
‘What!’ It was the last thing she expected or wanted.
‘And you’re shooting sparks, did you know that? It’s a good job the Luftwaffe have gone home. And this place is dangerous, by the way.’
‘What do you mean, dangerous?’ she said, convinced he was just trying to frighten her. ‘You used to come in here.’
‘That was when I was a stupid kid. Everything’s a bit shaky – that’s how bombs affect buildings close by when they explode.’
‘OK, OK!’ she said, nervously rubbing her nose with a knuckle.
Davey brought his face so close to hers she could have counted his long, almost feminine eyelashes if she had wanted to. ‘I know it’s been a lousy day,’ he said softly. ‘But this is no way to deal with things.’
‘What would you know about it?’ she said, dropping her hand and stiffening her backbone. ‘You haven’t lost your mother.’
‘I lost my dad when I was younger than Dotty, and my brother a couple of years ago. And I’ve a mother who’s that scared stiff of losing me it drives me crazy sometimes.’
She felt herself flushing. ‘I was sorry about your dad and your Frank. I know I didn’t say so at the time.’
‘I know you were. But we’re not the only ones to lose family. There’s thousands feeling as miserable as you are right now. So chin up.’ He punched her chin lightly.
Rosie felt ashamed of herself. ‘It’s not only losing Mam,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Aunt Amelia is planning on sending Harry to Australia.’
‘You’re joking!’ He glanced at Harry. ‘What have you been up to, fella?’
‘Nuthin’. Where’s Australia?’ said the boy, scrambling down from the sofa.
‘The other side of the world,’ said Babs. ‘They have kangaroos there.’ She rose from the sofa, dragging blankets with her. ‘Aunt Amelia said she did think it was cruel, with him so young.’
‘Right, Harry! If she feels like that—’ Davey sat back on his haunches in front of the boy. ‘You, fella, are going to have to put on the act of your life. Spinster ladies like a bit of the old soft soap. I know, I’ve got a couple of aunts meself. Think you can do it?’
‘What’s soft soap?’ asked Harry, wrinkling his nose.
‘Be nice, be friendly, give your aunt a cuddle a day.’ Davey winked. ‘Even a kiss. I know it’s soppy but you don’t want to go to Australia, do you?’
‘Dunno. What’s it like?’
‘Never mind what it’s like.’ Rosie’s voice broke on a tearful laugh. ‘You’d be away from us and we couldn’t bear to be without you.’ She held him to her. ‘Although I’m not sure soft soap will work on Aunt Amelia.’
‘It’s worth a try.’ A smiling Davey picked up a blanket that had fallen on the floor. ‘Let’s get you home. And I’ll be right behind you, kiddos. Just in case she’s got the knives out!’
Chapter Four
Amelia stared fixedly at the fire she had lit after buying matches from the newsagent’s round the corner. Her whole body was weighed down with a sense of failure: she was thinking not only of the Kilshaws but of the contents of that letter from Tess. Her friend’s words rang in her head.
Lee, you said you wanted to help me – look after the boys and Pete. He deserves someone better than me. You’re so controlled, you’ll make a much better job of it than me.
What did she mean by that? Amelia pushed back a strand of hair which had come loose from the roll on her neck.
The trouble is, I never loved him and the thought of his coming home and things going back to the way they were – the long silences after him trying so hard, and me going slowly blind – fills me with horror. Even now I can’t tell you the extent of it all so I’m saying no more. Forgive me. I’ve written to him explaining things.
Forgive her? Tears clogged the back of Amelia’s throat and prickled in her eyes. If only she hadn’t been so busy with the shop, she would have seen this coming. She had thought everything was OK with the marriage. Tess and Peter had appeared to be close, to complement each other, he so strong and dependable and Tess so delicate and needing someone to look after her. It just goes to show you never know what happens behind someone’s front door once it is closed, she told herself.
Amelia had written to Peter without knowing what Tess had said in her letter to him and without mentioning she had received one too. She had wanted to reassure him that she would keep her eye on the twins and Chris. How she was to do that and cope with her own nieces and nephew and the shop was beyond her at the moment, but somehow she had to.
That Rosie and the others would turn up again, she had no doubt. That girl was Violet all over again. The way she stood, with one leg in front of the other, knee crooked, head tilted to one side as she spat out her insults. For a moment, Amelia’s grief was speared by a dart of hurt and anger. Then she suppressed it, deciding the other three wouldn’t be a quarter as difficult to handle. Besides, she had plans for them. Even as she considered them she heard the key on the string being pulled through the letter box and was up in a flash.
Rosie, who had been in the act of turning the key, lost her balance as Amelia pulled the door open from the other side and a shopping bag became entangled between the girl’s legs. The kettle fell out and went clanging down the step. Rosie would have fallen if Davey had not grabbed her. She looked up at her aunt and blurted out, ‘Now see what you’ve made me do!’
‘What I’ve made you do?’ Amelia drew a sharp breath and raised her hand. Rosie flinched but stood her ground. Harry, though, turned and ran, his beloved engine clutched to his chest, a half-empty pillowcase bouncing on his shoulder.
‘Where on earth does he think he’s going? I haven’t laid a finger on you yet,’ cried Amelia, exasperated. ‘Although, believe you me, I’m tempted!’
‘He’s scared of you sending him to Australia,’ cried Dotty. ‘And I don’t want to go to any blind school!’
‘So that’s what this is all about?’ Amelia frowned, shaking her head at Rosie before her gaze fell on the youth at her side. ‘Do me a favour, Davey, and run after him?’
‘Me?’ He grinned. ‘I’ve already done my Good Samaritan act for the evening. Not that the two of you see it like that, by the looks on your faces.’
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br /> ‘You disappoint me,’ said Amelia, and took off after her nephew.
Rosie and Davey gazed after her. ‘She’s going to catch him,’ said the girl. ‘She can’t half run.’
‘She’s good!’ There was a hint of admiration in Davey’s voice. ‘I wonder if she ever ran for the Liverpool Harriers when she was young?’
‘She’s not that old now,’ said his mother, taking them unwares as she came out of the house next door. ‘I admire her. It can’t be easy for her, taking on you lot. I bet it’s put the kibosh on any wedding plans she might have had once the war’s over.’
‘Who’d marry her?’ said Rosie, flushing.
‘I wouldn’t be surprised if there was someone,’ said Gwen, resting one bony shoulder against the door jamb. ‘Missed her chance earlier with having to take care of your grandfather when he ended up in a wheelchair. It happens to a lot of eldest daughters. Duty’s a cold bedfellow, though.’
The thought that it was her own mother who had been the eldest passed through Rosie’s mind, but she kept silent. It would have been a betrayal of Violet’s memory. Besides, she bet Amelia had only nursed Grandfather to get her hands on his property, mortgaged or not.
Amelia returned with a struggling Harry. ‘In!’ she ordered them all in a voice which brooked no argument. The younger two hurried indoors but Rosie would have lingered if her aunt had not thrust the kettle against her chest, saying with a grim expression, ‘Don’t push your luck! Put that on and make me a cup of tea.’
Rosie took one look at her face and decided not to argue this time.
A quarter of an hour later, the younger three were in bed and Rosie had made the tea and was about to pour it out. She was tense, waiting for the storm she was sure would come. So far, her aunt had not asked where they had been and now, having drunk her tea, she was sitting back in a chair with her eyes closed. Even so, the girl felt as if every move she made was being monitored.
‘Tomorrow you’ll move out of here,’ said Amelia, startling her so much she dropped the cup.
‘That was careless.’ Amelia gazed down at the broken fragments. ‘You’ll sweep that up.’ Her cat-like eyes rested on Rosie’s face. ‘I can’t be doing with all this going backwards and forwards.’
‘Tomorrow, though!’ protested Rosie, shocked. ‘What about schools and packing and everything?’
‘There’s nothing here I need but the food you’ve already packed and the kettle and some other bits. I have enough beds and furniture for all of us. I’m sure your landlord here has a long waiting list with I don’t know how many bombed-out families eager to take this place over, lock, stock and barrel.’
Rosie’s mouth had gone dry. She had to swallow before she could speak. ‘But what about Mam’s things and our clothes?’
‘We’ll take the good stuff, of course.’
‘OK, I can accept that,’ said Rosie, clasping her hands in front of her, the muscles of her face stiff with strain. ‘But you’ve no right to send Harry away. That paper Mam wrote, it can’t be legal?’
‘Oh, I’m sure it would be admissible in any court of law,’ murmured Amelia, tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair. ‘I’m your closest relative and I’m sure they’d be only too happy to hand full responsibility for you all over to me. Anyway, I’ll be seeing a solicitor in the next day or two.’
‘But you can’t do it!’ cried Rosie wildly, leaning heavily on the back of the chair. ‘It’s cruel. How can you do something like that? You’re wicked, just like Mam always said.’
Amelia fixed her with one of her stares. ‘You’re pushing your luck again, Rosie. Go to bed. It’s been a long day for both of us. I had no sleep last night and I’ve loads to do the rest of this week, sorting things out.’
‘I won’t sleep,’ said the girl, straightening up. ‘How can I sleep, worrying about Harry? He’s too young to be parted from us and sent to Australia.’
‘Don’t go on,’ said her aunt wearily. ‘You’ve said what you wanted to say and I don’t need to hear it a second time. Now get to bed.’
Rosie opened her mouth and Amelia half rose in her chair. For a moment, there was a battle for supremacy. Then the girl shot out of the room and Amelia sank back in her chair and closed her eyes, letting her body go limp. She must be mad. What had she taken on?
‘You’re going to have company, puss,’ said Amelia, tucking the cat under her arm and going upstairs in her own home the next morning. She could not see her way clear yet but last night had made a start by setting the alarm clock for six. This morning, she had left a note for Rosie, telling her to make sure she packed the rest of the children’s clothes and anything else they might want to bring with them. They were not to go to school but to stay in the house and await her return.
On the way home, Amelia had slipped into the shop before it was open, leaving a note for Mr Brown saying she wouldn’t be in until the next day. Then she had called on the rag and bone man who hired out his horse and cart, arranging to meet him at the house in Everton. After that she made an appointment with the man who had been her father’s solicitor.
She entered the main bedroom, which was spacious and clean-looking, being the most recently decorated just before the war. She had moved into the room after her father’s death, but now the double bed would be of more use to the three girls so would have to be moved out because she would be damned if she would let them have the best bedroom as well.
She placed the cat on the linoleum, warning it of the invasion soon to come, and proceeded to strip and dismantle the double bed. She had the frame stuck in the doorway and was cursing herself for having started single-handed when she heard a hammering on the front door. She squeezed past the frame and ran downstairs, wondering who it could be.
‘Chris!’ He was the last person she wanted to see right now but she could hardly say so. ‘What is it? Peter? He’s not—?’
‘No, he’s OK. Although they won’t let him come home just yet.’ Chris’s square-jawed face wore a strained expression and he dropped his eyes and mumbled, ‘I thought you might come to the inquest with me? It’s today.’
She felt a rush of guilt. ‘I’m sorry, Chris. I’ve my nieces and nephew coming. Have you time for a hot drink, though?’
He looked grateful. ‘Thanks. I’m freezing.’
‘I’ll put the kettle on. Then, if you can spare a minute, you can help me move a bed.’
He looked at her as if she had run mad. ‘A bed?’
‘Yes, I’ve got it half in, half out of the bedroom.’
‘Oh.’ He followed her into the kitchen and then upstairs, thin wrists showing beneath the too-short sleeves. The jacket, she knew, had once belonged to her father.
‘How are the twins?’
‘They’re another reason why I came,’ he said, attempting a smile. ‘I’ve got to make up the hours I’m taking off. I wondered if you could look after them for a few hours this evening?’
‘Isn’t there a neighbour?’
He pulled a face. ‘You know the twins. And Mam wasn’t one for making friends in the street. People aren’t exactly volunteering. It’s a mess. I don’t know what to do.’
Unexpectedly, Amelia felt angry with Tess. A white-hot anger, as if she had just been stabbed with a poker. How could she have done this to her own children? How could she have done this to her? Then the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving her drained and filled with guilt again. She licked her lips. ‘They’ll have to come here,’ she said. ‘Now let’s get this bed moved. I’ve got to get back to Everton soon.’
The children looked up as Amelia entered the room, leaving the door open to a breeze that blew right through the house.
‘Everything packed?’ she said briskly.
‘Yes. I had to use pillowcases, though, because we haven’t suitcases,’ explained Babs.
‘That’s all right. I’ve a horse and cart waiting outside. You’d better douse that fire. We don’t want the place going up in flames.’ Amelia surveyed
the four of them, noting they were all looking glum. ‘And cheer up! Or I will send you to the orphanage. You can see your friends here again if that’s what you want.’
‘It won’t be the same,’ said Babs, getting up and slinging a pillowcase containing her few possessions over one shoulder. ‘We won’t be seeing them every day so we’ll just drift apart.’
‘You’ll make new friends. Look upon this as an adventure.’
‘Did you say a horse and cart?’ said Harry, face brightening.
‘I did. And stop kicking that chair before you break it.’
He slid to the floor, engine under his arm. ‘Can I go and see the horse?’
She nodded. ‘Take your bundle with you.’
‘What about the cat?’ said Dotty, lovely face drawn with anxiety.
‘Mrs Baxendale’s having it. Now stop looking like a wet Whit weekend and accept things as they are, Dotty,’ said her aunt Amelia with a touch of impatience.
‘You’re going to send me to that blind school, I know you are,’ muttered the girl.
‘I haven’t got you in there yet. Anyway, it’s a very good school.’ She turned to Babs, determined not to have a confrontation with Rosie. ‘Is there any coal left in the cellar? We could do with it if there is. I think it’s going to turn cold again.’
‘A few shovelfuls.’
‘Right, it can go in the cart too. Now get your things and let’s go.’
Reluctantly, the three girls did as they were told. For no matter how humble, this house had been their home all their lives.
Amelia spoke to the rag and bone man and he went inside, but before the girls could climb up into the cart, an unfamiliar voice said, ‘And where d’yer think yer goin’ with them kids?’
As one, Amelia and the children turned and looked at the dumpy figure wearing an ankle-length black serge skirt, woollen jacket and black shawl. There were hob-nailed boots on her feet and gloves with the fingertips cut off on her hands. The old woman leant heavily on a stick.
‘Do I know you?’ said Amelia, clamping one hand on Harry’s shoulder, thinking the woman looked vaguely familiar.