Shipyard Girls in Love

by Nancy Revell

  ‘Well, if she’s anything like her big sister, you’re going to have a battle on your hands!’ Peter said, before adding in a more serious tone, ‘But joking apart, would it not be possible for her to come back here to live?’

  Rosie slouched a little and took a drink of her tea. She had been dying to see Peter, had missed him terribly, but most of all she’d had it in her mind that when she saw him she would be able to tell him that she – or rather the bordello – was going legit. She had played out the scene in her head: how she would sit with Peter just as she was now and tell him all about her plans to become a bona fide, upright member of society.

  But after her very animated discussion with Lily and George the other night, that plan now looked ridiculously delusional. She’d been given a shot of reality and it had caused her to come crashing back down to earth. It had smashed her dreams not only of living a ‘normal’ life, but also of being able to bring Charlotte back home.

  ‘If only it were that simple,’ Rosie said, reaching for the comfort of one of the assortment of biscuits Peter had laid out on the plate. She looked at Peter. It was time to be honest and open. She couldn’t keep avoiding the subject of the bordello. It was a part of her life; a big part. A part he knew about – that had caused him a great deal of shock and distress – but he had accepted it and she didn’t feel that he judged her for it. If he did, she wouldn’t be with him now.

  ‘Go on, tell me what’s going on in that beautifully complex head of yours,’ Peter cajoled, topping up both their cups.

  Rosie took a deep breath.

  ‘If I allow Charlotte to come and live with me – that’s if I manage to get her into the Sunderland Church High School …’

  Peter nodded. Rosie had mentioned to him in the past that this was where she had initially wanted to send Charlotte.

  ‘… I know Charlotte will pass the test they make you do there, but they don’t always have places. Sometimes there’s a waiting list.’

  Peter took a biscuit. His stomach was starting to growl. He hadn’t really eaten all day, probably because he’d been on edge.

  ‘But if she does come here …’ Rosie seemed to be struggling to get her words out and Peter forced himself to concentrate.

  ‘It’s inevitable …’ She paused.

  ‘Well, it’s inevitable that she’s going to find out about Lily’s.’

  There, the words were out.

  Peter looked at Rosie. This was the first time she had opened up like this. She might have chatted a little about Lily and George, and, of course, Maisie and Vivian, but she had never really discussed the bordello itself. Peter silently reprimanded himself. He should have realised that was the problem from the start. It really had nothing to do with the air raids Hitler was subjecting the town to. Rosie probably wanted Charlotte here as much as her sister wanted to come back home. But, of course, Charlotte was no longer a child – it would be practically impossible for Rosie to keep the bordello a secret, not with the number of hours she spent there. On top of which, Lily, George and Kate were all like family to her. How could she keep them separate from her sister?

  ‘I thought,’ Rosie said, ‘somewhat foolishly it now appears, that there might be some way of legitimising the business, if you know what I mean.’

  Peter nodded. He knew they were in unknown territory here and he was aware he had to tread carefully. But he also felt that time was short and this was a topic he had been more than eager to discuss with Rosie for a while now.

  ‘Well,’ Peter considered, ‘I agree, I can’t see a way that Lily’s could possibly become legitimate unless there was a change in the law. And I can’t see that happening any time soon.’

  They were the same words Lily had said to her the other night. For the second time in as many days, Rosie felt incredibly stupid. She was just about to say something when Peter leant forward and took hold of her hand.

  Peter knew Rosie was unhappy, but he had to get his concerns out now. God, there was so much to talk to her about this evening and he hadn’t banked on having this conversation into the bargain.

  ‘I’ve wanted to say this to you for a while now.’ Peter paused a little nervously. ‘But your involvement with Lily’s does worry me.’

  Rosie pulled her hand away quickly. She didn’t like the way this conversation was going.

  ‘What do you mean my “involvement with Lily’s does worry” you?’ Rosie asked coldly.

  Peter knew he couldn’t back out now. He had to spit it out.

  ‘I just keep thinking—’ Peter went to take hold of Rosie’s hand again but she moved it away as soon as she realised what he was trying to do.

  ‘You just keep thinking what?’ Rosie repeated.

  ‘I just can’t help thinking that if I found out about Lily’s then it wouldn’t be hard for others to as well.’

  Rosie stared at him. This evening was not going at all as she had expected. She had hoped that Peter might be able to help her with her dilemma about Charlotte. Not make it worse.

  ‘And?’ Rosie asked harshly.

  ‘And if they do, there’s a good chance they won’t hesitate to report you. And if they do that …’ Peter knew he didn’t need to say any more.

  Rosie could feel the anger and hurt rising up in her and Peter could see the look of fury on her face and knew he had to jump in now and try to quell an almighty flare-up.

  ‘I think I’m just trying to say that it worries me,’ he said, trying his hardest to convey the deep concern he felt.

  Rosie looked daggers at him.

  ‘So, what do you suggest I do?’ Her words were hard and biting. ‘I know,’ she said, answering her own question, making a show of holding her chin between her finger and thumb as if she were deep in thought. ‘I’ll just get up and leave the bordello. Leave behind all the money I have worked so damned hard for. I’ll just give it to Lily and tell her, “Here, you have my share, I’m off.”

  ‘And when she asks me why, I’ll tell her, “Oh, I’m a bit worried someone might find out about us and report us.” As if that hasn’t ever been a worry before. As if that isn’t always in the backs of our minds … Oh, and then I’ll just haul Charlotte out of school and tell her, “Sorry, Charlotte, but you know all that work you’ve done so far, all those lessons you’ve had, and all those qualifications you are about to get, well, forget it, I can’t afford to put you through school any more, so get down the Labour Exchange and sign yourself up for some mind-numbing job that will pay a pittance and keep you in poverty for the rest of your life!’

  By the time Rosie had finished her tirade, she was out of breath and shaking, and Peter was wishing, desperately, that he could snatch back the words he’d let tumble from his mouth so thoughtlessly.

  ‘Rosie,’ Peter’s voice was almost pleading, ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just … I just …’ All of a sudden he didn’t really know what he was trying to say. What he had really wanted to say was that he wanted to marry her, wanted them both – and Charlotte – to live here, under this roof. As a family.

  But he couldn’t.

  Not any more.

  He had made his choice.

  ‘I just want you safe,’ he finally managed.

  ‘Safe? You want me safe?’ Rosie was incredulous. ‘Well, if that’s what you want, Peter, you shouldn’t have come and found me that day after the christening. You must have known then that you were jumping into something with someone who was as far removed from safe as you could possibly get. So, if that’s what you want, then let’s make no bones about it, you’re not going to get it.’

  Rosie stopped for breath. She was so angry, yet she was more upset than anything. The past week had been all topsy-turvy. She’d gone from being as high as a kite to feeling the lowest of the low. She was worried about Charlotte, worried about having to tell her about Lily’s, and then her dreams of going legitimate and living as near a normal life as possible had been smashed to smithereens by Lily and George’s reality check t
he other night.

  ‘I’ll never be normal, Peter.’ Rosie spoke with unusual bitterness. ‘And you’ll never make me normal or safe, so if you don’t like it – tough, you know where the door is.’

  Peter saw the confusion of emotions cross Rosie’s face. He pushed back his chair and went round to pull Rosie up so that she was facing him, then he put his arms around her and held her close to him.

  ‘I thought you loved me for who I am?’ Rosie said, her voice breaking with emotion, but muffled as her face pressed into his chest.

  ‘I do,’ Peter said. ‘I do.’

  He put his hands on her shoulders and made her step back so that he could look her in the eyes.

  ‘I would never change you for all the world. You have to believe me on that,’ he said in a steely voice. ‘And I love you more than anything else in the world.’

  Rosie looked into Peter’s dark blue eyes and knew he meant every word he said.

  He pulled her in close again and they held each other for a while. Then Rosie looked up at Peter and they kissed.

  ‘I’m sorry for being a blabbermouth and speaking without thinking. I just love you so much, I worry about you. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.’ Peter kissed her again.

  ‘I know,’ Rosie said softly; her anger had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you either.’

  Peter felt that awful pull of guilt in the pit of his stomach yet again.

  ‘I think we may have just had our first proper bust-up,’ Peter said, trying his hardest to be light-hearted. ‘You know what?’ he said, with a smile.

  ‘What?’ Rosie asked, still enjoying the feeling of being in his arms.

  ‘I think I’ve drunk enough tea today to sink a ship. I think we should go and have a proper drink to see in the New Year.’

  Rosie stepped back. A wide smile now on her face.

  ‘I can’t believe I nearly forgot – it’s New Year’s Eve!’ Rosie said, breaking free from his embrace and bending down to pick up her handbag and gas mask. ‘Come on then,’ she said, turning to leave the kitchen. ‘What’re you waiting for?’

  As Peter went to fetch their coats, his heart started to pound. He knew he couldn’t use this upset as another excuse not to tell Rosie what she needed to know.

  As Rosie and Peter walked the half a mile or so to the Victoria Gardens, just off the Ryhope Road, they chatted more calmly about what Rosie should do in regards to ‘the Charlotte situation’, although Peter’s mind was very much on the imminence of the bombshell he was about to drop.

  ‘From what I’m hearing,’ Peter said, ‘there’s a problem at school, otherwise why would she suddenly want to come back here? My instinct tells me you need to find the source of Charlotte’s unhappiness and then look at what you’re going to do. It may be the problem can be sorted and she ends up staying at her all-girls boarding school – in which case you’re worrying unnecessarily.’

  They both moved to the side to allow an elderly couple to pass them.

  ‘However,’ Peter continued, ‘if the problem can’t be resolved, and there doesn’t appear to be any other option, bar bringing Charlotte back home, then think about whether or not you should tell her about Lily’s.’

  Rosie listened as they walked.

  ‘Don’t worry about something that might not happen,’ Peter said, quoting the well-worn adage.

  ‘I know,’ Rosie sighed resignedly. She was thoughtful for a moment before looking at Peter and smiling. ‘You’re right. I’m all paid up until the end of term, so the soonest Charlotte could leave is March.’

  ‘Which,’ Peter said, finishing off her thought process, ‘gives you plenty of time to work out what to do.’

  As they turned into Villette Road, Rosie looked at Peter. ‘I’m sorry for flying off the handle earlier on. I know you’re just trying to look out for me. And the stupid thing is, if you weren’t bothered, I’d hate it more because then I’d think you didn’t care.’ She tightened her belt, and seeing that she was cold, Peter put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him to give her some protection from the chill of what was fast becoming a very bleak midwinter.

  ‘I feel like I’ve been in a whirlwind these past few weeks,’ Rosie admitted. ‘To be honest, my head feels all over the place. And it’s all your fault!’ she laughed as she gently elbowed him.

  When they reached the pub, Peter opened the door to allow Rosie to go through first. As he followed her into the loud and very busy lounge bar, he felt that if there was ever a time for a drink, then it was now.

  When they’d settled in a relatively quiet corner of the pub, Rosie raised her glass.

  ‘Here’s to the New Year!’

  ‘The New Year,’ Peter agreed, following suit.

  ‘And may it be a happy one,’ Rosie said, ‘with no more dramas!’

  Peter felt his heart sink.

  ‘If only!’ he said, forcing himself to sound jocular.

  Chapter Forty

  Peter looked at Rosie’s face, which seemed so happy, so expectant and so full of life. As she took a sip of her drink, he watched as she gazed around the bar that was now getting so full there was hardly room to move.

  ‘Rosie …’ Peter could feel his heart thumping in his chest.

  Rosie brought her attention back to the man she loved. The only man she had ever loved.

  ‘I’ve got something I have to tell you …’ Peter could feel his mouth had suddenly become dry. ‘Something I should have told you before now, but haven’t.’ He took a quick drink of his pint.

  Rosie knew immediately by Peter’s tone that ‘something’ was not right. That ‘something’ sounded serious. Very serious.

  ‘What?’ Rosie demanded.

  Peter opened his mouth to speak, but everything he’d planned to say seemed to have become jumbled up in his head.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Rosie,’ Peter said. Rosie looked at him and realised for the first time how pale and tired he was.

  ‘Stop it, you’re starting to worry me,’ she said nervously. ‘Are you poorly?’ she asked, fearful for a moment that he was ill.

  ‘No, no,’ Peter was quick to reassure her. ‘I’m fine. Honestly. Fit as a fiddle.’

  Rosie felt herself instinctively sit back, as if wanting to put some space between the two of them, knowing she was about to be dealt a terrible blow.

  Peter responded by leaning forward, not wanting to lose her, yet knowing it was inevitable.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rosie. There’s no way around this, so I’m just going to come out and say it straight. I have to leave you. For a while at least.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Rosie didn’t like the way Peter was looking at her, nor the words coming out of his mouth.

  ‘I-I …’ Peter stuttered. ‘God, where do I start? There’s so much I can’t tell you. I have to go away for a while. I have to leave you … and I’m so sorry.’

  ‘What do you mean, you “have to leave” me?’ Rosie spat the words out. The anger that had been quelled earlier on in the evening was beginning to rise back to the surface. ‘What? Are you saying you don’t want to be with me any more?’

  ‘God, no, Rosie!’ Peter couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. ‘Of course I want to be with you!’ He reached to take her hand across the small round bar table they were sitting at. He was glad she didn’t pull away from his touch. The pub was getting noisier now as everyone started to wind themselves up to the big countdown to midnight.

  He raised his voice.

  ‘I’ve always wanted you. And always will!’

  Rosie looked at him. ‘So then why are you leaving me? I don’t understand.’ Her face was taut and confused.

  ‘Oh God, I should have told you all this before now,’ Peter said, knowing that if he had just told her more about Toby’s visit and what they had discussed, this would not be coming as such a shock now.

  ‘I’ve signed up,’ he said simply.
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br />   ‘I don’t understand, Peter. You’re a reserved occupation. They can’t make you do this.’

  For a moment Rosie felt as though everything would be all right. That this was just a silly misunderstanding that would be sorted out in no time.

  Peter looked at the desperate hope in Rosie’s eyes and felt even more terrible than he had already.

  ‘Rosie, nobody’s making me do anything. I asked for this.’ Peter’s words came out as a betrayal.

  ‘What do mean, you “asked for this”?’ Rosie said. ‘You mean you volunteered?’

  Peter nodded slowly. ‘I’m sorry, Rosie, but, yes, I did. I wanted to tell you about it when an old friend of mine called Toby dropped by a few weeks ago. I think I might have mentioned it, but only briefly. It was the day poor Gloria was attacked.’

  Rosie racked her brains. She still couldn’t quite believe they were having this conversation.

  ‘I think I vaguely remember,’ she said. ‘Yes, I do. We were at Vera’s and I’d just got some pie boxed up to take to Gloria at the hospital. Yes, I remember now. I remembered when I was getting ready to go to the hospital that I hadn’t asked you about him … I remember telling myself to ask you next time we saw each other, but I forgot.’

  ‘Of course you forgot, there’s been so much going on of late.’ Peter stretched over to move a blonde curl away from Rosie’s eye. She didn’t move an inch but kept looking at him, a furrow now developing in her brow.

  ‘After that we didn’t manage to see each other until just before you went away … And then you wore that red dress. It was just such a perfect night, I didn’t want to spoil it.’

  Peter looked at Rosie, but her face was unreadable.

  ‘I’ve been asked to go down south to become part of a new government organisation,’ Peter explained, ‘to help the war effort. They recruited Toby while he was working for the BBC as a war correspondent. Anyway, he thought I’d be of some use and so he came to ask me if I’d be up for it.’

  Rosie was staring at him.

  ‘And?’ She felt like shaking the words out of him. She was struggling to take on-board what Peter was telling her.