Gull Island

by Grace Thompson

  They went to look at the rooms and Richard’s positive attitude to the gloomy apartment made it seem possible.

  The following day, while his workmen made a start on the washing down and painting, she bought a new Ford Anglia for £360 and arranged for driving lessons.

  The garage was in the older part of the town amid streets of neat, grey stone houses. In the middle of one street was a school, its paved yard full of noisy screaming children. A public house stood on one corner and a bus stop was close by. What attracted her eyes like a magnet was a shabby shop selling newspapers, tobacco and sweets, not far from the school gates. On its dirty-engrained window was a handwritten notice proclaiming that the ‘desirable property’ was for sale.

  Later that evening, when she went to Station Row, she was surprised at how much Richard and his team had achieved. The skirting boards were all pristine with fresh paint, the walls marked for papering, the ceilings were so white it seemed as though the lights were lit. She smiled, admired the work, thanked him and handed him a folder full of legal papers.

  ‘What’s this?’ he asked with a frown.

  ‘You can buy the shop back as soon as it can be arranged,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen a property going cheap that will do me just as well.’

  Richard took the papers and stared at them in utter disbelief. ‘I hope you don’t think I helped with this place to make you change your mind.’

  ‘If you haven’t learned anything else, Richard, you must know you wouldn’t have been able to persuade me to do something I didn’t want to do.’

  ‘Can I phone Monty and tell him?’

  Monty came at once and, after a celebration that became a small party, with food rustled up from the contents of the shop, and a few drinks, the three of them went to look at the property near the school. It was dirty and smelled badly of neglect. The yard outside was overflowing with rubbish including stale food. It was a mess.

  Richard felt mean, having forced her to leave the shop she had made so neat and clean, and have to tackle the job of making the school shop habitable. He refused, even to himself, to believe that his persuasions hadn’t worked. Her decision to sell the Careys’ shop back to him was nothing to do with her finding this neglected business; she wouldn’t have taken on such a disheartening place unless she had been made to see the importance of his career. Yes, he had talked her into seeing things from his angle. Even a clever woman like Rosita was no match for a man. But he had left her with an ugly task.

  The following day, Monty left a present for her. Standing on the counter of the Station Row shop, in front of a smiling Betty Sweeny, was a drawer-shaped wooden container with compartments of various sizes so birthday cards could be well displayed. Previously they had been stacked together in an untidy pile, getting dog-eared and grubby. Rosita wrote to thank him and cheekily asked if he could make another for the school shop!

  She gave her notice at the factory and this time she had no intention of going back. Without Miss Grainger, she now had to run the school shop. While negotiations went on, selling the Careys’ shop and buying the new one, she transferred stock and bought new ready to fill her new acquisition. The Careys’ shop was soon back to its previous empty and dreary look with a lugubrious Uncle Henry Carey in temporary charge.

  With Kate sharing the long hours with her at the school shop, and with Richard finishing the decorating between meetings and consultations, Rosita learned to drive. Beside lessons from professionals, it was Idris who spent a few hours each day instructing her.

  The first time he tried to put his hand on her knee she smiled and firmly removed it. The second time she pushed it away without hiding her anger. The third time she slapped his face so hard it left a mark that hadn’t faded when they got back to the shop. She regretted the slap more than Idris appeared to do when she saw the expression on Kate’s gentle face. It was obvious that she had guessed the outcome of the hour’s free lesson. Besides the bright red weal on her husband’s smiling face, her own was red and dark with anger.

  ‘You can go home with your husband, Kate. I’ll finish up here,’ she said stiffly. ‘Thank you for all your hard work.’

  Idris glanced back as he ushered Kate from the shop and winked a brazen eye. ‘See you tomorrow when you close for lunch, eh?’

  ‘No, thank you. I’m busy!’ What did he think she was – some lonely woman desperate for the attentions of a useless individual like him?

  He came into the shop a few days later and gave his wife a smile, then asked Rosita if he could borrow her car to go for an interview for a job. She hesitated. There was something about a new car; it was the most expensive purchase she had made apart from the businesses. The Anglia was beautiful and it was her own and she didn’t want anyone else to drive it. She had never belonged to a family where sharing might be acceptable; everything she acquired was solely for her own use. She glanced at Kate’s face, saw hope there, and nodded weakly.

  ‘Make sure you drive it with care, and I want it back by one o’clock. Kate and I have to go to the wholesalers and Monty is coming to sit beside me. I want to see it parked outside and the key in my pocket before one o’clock. Right?’

  Idris saluted and grinned. ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘I thought we were going to look at rugs and curtains, Miss Evans?’ Kate said.

  ‘We are, but I don’t trust your husband with my new and beautiful car.’

  ‘He isn’t a bad person, Miss Evans,’ Kate defended in her gentle way. ‘Silly, perhaps. I mean, he’s a bit of a boy, really, never grown up, like. But there, men seldom do, do they?’

  ‘I’m sure he makes you happy just the way he is, and that’s what counts.’ Rosita turned to pack some birthday cards into the smart new display and thought to herself that if she ever settled for someone like Idris, she hoped someone would have her certified!

  At ten past one they gave up waiting for Idris to return with the car, and walked to the new property near the school. Armed with tape measure and a notebook, they made careful measurements and a list of shelves and cupboards they needed, which Richard had promised to have made for them. It was while they were hurrying back to Station Row that Rosita saw the Anglia parked under trees in a narrow lane which led to some old sheds and a few neglected houses. She almost drew Kate’s attention to it, then realized that there were two people inside.

  ‘Will you go and open up, please, Kate? I think I’ll do a bit of shopping.’ She waited until Kate was out of sight then walked purposefully towards her car. She opened the driver’s door and demanded that Idris and his passenger got out.

  ‘Miss Evans. What a surprise!’ he tried to bluff, smiling at her then at the girl beside him. ‘Interview went on a bit longer than expected, so I gave this young lady a lift.’

  Rosita glared at the overweight woman, dressed like a tart, who stepped out on the far side of the car, hastily straightening her clothes.

  ‘Hello, Miss Evans. I hope you didn’t mind us using your car.’ The woman smiled nervously at Idris.

  ‘This is Kate’s boss,’ Idris said. ‘Miss Evans – Hattie.’

  He said lots more but, frozen with horror, Rosita heard nothing. Hattie! This overweight, unpleasant-looking woman, with smudged lipstick across her full mouth, was her half-sister! She stared and saw, in the flat face and rounded features, her hated stepfather, Graham Prothero, and she wanted to scream.

  She felt anger rising and knew she had to get away from them. What they had been doing was none of her business. She didn’t want to think about it, but the dishevelled clothes gave her a picture that wouldn’t go away.

  Idris was still trying to explain as she pushed him aside and got into the driving seat. The new leather smell was gone. The car felt unclean, no longer hers. She slammed the door and didn’t heed Idris’s shout: ‘Miss Evans! Hang on, woman, you haven’t got a licence, remember. Shouldn’t be driving on your own.’

  She drove to the lonely beach near Gull Island and sat, trembling with hurt and anger, for
a long time. It wasn’t until she had calmed down that the realization that she was two miles from home and alone in a car she was not licensed to drive dawned on her.

  She considered finding a phone and calling Richard but she didn’t know where to find him. Sadly she realized there was no one else. Determination tightened her jaw and she reminded herself that she had got this far without depending on anyone. Starting the engine with more trepidation than before, she drove carefully back to Station Row. She stepped out of the driving seat, so tense she thought her teeth would snap. Her forearms and hands ached from the tightness with which she had grasped the wheel; her jaw felt like a vice.

  ‘Sorry I’ve been so long,’ she said to Kate. ‘Now shall we have a cup of tea?’

  She didn’t mention seeing Idris with Kate’s sister or explain how she had found the car and brought it back. After all, she told herself, Kate must know what he’s like. Why should I add salt to what must be a constantly painful wound?

  She tried to remain cool and indifferent to her assistant’s problematic marriage but was aware of a growing affection for the quiet young woman. There was something very appealing about Kate’s gentle, kindly and hardworking nature, which Rosita couldn’t fail to appreciate. She told herself it was foolish to become attached to anyone, that she was better off on her own, safer from being hurt, but the feeling grew.

  In November, demolition began on the shops including the Careys’ newsagency. Rosita passed her driving test and moved into her new premises near the school. Now the problem of the Careys’ shop was out of the way, Rosita and Richard had become more relaxed with each other. They occasionally shared a meal in the evening when they had both finished work for the day.

  ‘We’ve never really celebrated our good fortune. What about going out somewhere really swish one evening?’ Richard suggested when he and Rosita were fixing the last of the shelves in the school shop.

  ‘Where could we go with you wearing that suit?’ she teased.

  ‘I’ll buy a new one,’ he promised. ‘Now I have to wear two hats, one for when I’m the mucky and hardworking site foreman and the other for when I’m the slick and smart salesman. I’ll need something a bit smart. Shall we go out of town, perhaps to one of the villages where there’s a pub with a restaurant? Idris recommended a place called The Old Oak.’

  Instinctively Rosita decided she didn’t want to go anywhere recommended by Idris. ‘Somewhere near the sea,’ she said in her emphatic way.

  Richard was used to her determined manner and nodded amiably. ‘Whatever you want. It’s a celebration for us both, not just me.’

  ‘The new shop, you mean?’

  ‘Well, let’s say your display of good sense in letting me have my shop back. You recognizing that my plans were the most important.’

  ‘Your ambitions are so much more important than mine, you being a man.’ She sounded as if she were agreeing.

  ‘That’s it. I mean, I’m employing a dozen or more men, and their families depend on me for survival.’

  ‘And what about my survival?’

  ‘Well, it isn’t as if a woman’s work is essential, is it? I mean, a woman won’t be supporting a family.’ He laughed. ‘Useful, mind, but it’s bound to be less important and more a hobby and …’ Too late, he recognized the steel in her voice and knew he had fallen into a trap.

  ‘I want to be wealthy and independent the same as you and I’ll be earning a good income and adding to the lives of people so they don’t have to depend on handouts like Idris and—’

  He interrupted her, glad of the chance. ‘Idris? I know he’s a lazy devil, but he’s my brother and I’ve just given him the job of site manager.’

  ‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought! From a child he’s been spoilt and primed for a life without work. Idris is a cheat and will do nothing and take everything.’

  ‘Why are you so hot under the collar about Idris? You can hardly pretend to know him.’

  ‘I know enough. He cheats on Kate for a start!’

  ‘Of course he doesn’t!’ Richard said hotly, but he knew she was right. He remembered the night he had called at his brother’s house after seeing him in a car with a woman. Best to say nothing, deny it. Gossiping would only make things worse – and hurt Kate, who didn’t deserve it. ‘They’re happy, anyone can see that.’

  ‘He’s happy. Enjoying himself with any woman who’s stupid enough to think him attractive, including Kate’s sister.’

  ‘I heard Hattie was back. Now come off it, Rosita. Hattie left home wanting to have a bit of independence. She’s been staying with Kate and Idris for a while, so he’s probably just being kind. Surely that’s understandable?’

  ‘Kind to himself. That’s the only kindness Idris understands.’

  ‘We’d better change the subject.’

  ‘Yes, let’s go back to you telling me I’m just a silly little woman playing at running a business and I’m really waiting to fall into someone’s arms and expect them to keep me in idleness for the rest of my life, shall we?’

  Plans to go out and celebrate were abandoned. Rosita went home to her flat and taking a box of chocolates from the shelf, sat and ate them all. A whole month’s ration all in one go. Well, so what!

  Christmas Day was one of the rare days on which newspapers weren’t printed and Rosita planned to treat herself to a really lazy day. She rose at the usual time, though, her body clock refusing to alter for the precious rarity of not having to react promptly to the alarm. She made herself a cup of tea and, taking it back to bed, she contemplated the day off and wondered how best to use it. She might go and visit Auntie Molly Carey in the house near Red Rock Bay.

  Christmas was such a milestone in the year. Previous ones remembered for one reason or another, way back into the distant past when most things were a mixed-up blur. It was a time when people gathered together, often a hotchpotch, a most unlikely combination of characters, usually finding to their surprise that they enjoyed the experience. For Rosita it had been nothing more than a brief respite from the repetitive life of the home. There were no family gatherings on which she could reminisce. Her best memories were the years she had spent with Miss Grainger.

  From others she gleaned pictures of how Christmas was for most people. Benevolence abounded as everyone shared the celebration with people they hardly thought of during the year, each believing, during that special Christmas camaraderie, that they are the best of friends as they repeated old stories and even older jokes. Rosita gritted her teeth and told herself she didn’t want any of it.

  She bathed and dressed and looked at the small slice of pork that two weeks’ saved meat ration had allowed her. That small piece of meat emphasized the emptiness of her life since Miss Grainger had died. She set it to roast slowly, surrounded by part-boiled potatoes and a couple of stringy-looking parsnips. Cooking was a chore. It was just one of the many reasons she still grieved for her friend, who had always managed to produce appetizing meals from the ration for two, with a minimum of meat and a surfeit of imagination.

  Thoughts of Miss Grainger made her melancholy. She was so alone. Kate had invited her to spend Christmas Day with her, Idris and their two girls, Helen and Lynne. Auntie Molly Carey had pleaded with her to join them for Christmas dinner. She pretended she had other plans. She would get through the day without any of them. She wouldn’t depend on anyone, ever again.

  Why did today matter so much? If she pretended it was a Sunday without the chore of the morning papers it would be easy. Just the luxurious joy of a day without work. But she wished she could go to the shop and rearrange the shelves. After the last hectic hours of Christmas Eve, they were in a mess. But she couldn’t. Not today. She had no strong religious beliefs but that was something she couldn’t do. To treat it like an ordinary day would have been seen as sacrilegious. Tomorrow, perhaps, another precious day of freedom.

  It was a pity she had quarrelled with Richard. She hadn’t even thanked him properly for the work he had
done in the new shop. He and Monty had made a second card display, and sent one of the carpenters around to fix some squeaky doors and add some extra shelves. She had been most ungracious.

  Yes, she decided suddenly. She would go round to the Careys’ after dinner and thank Richard, even stay for tea if she were invited. She would also try not to react when his remarks seemed condescending. She would really, really try. Then she thought that Kate and Idris would be there and perhaps Hattie too. Best she stayed away. She would delay her meal until later, and read, and listen to the wireless and – This was ridiculous, she chided herself. Surely a day off isn’t something to be used up like a punishment?

  A knock on the door at four o’clock startled her. It was Richard, it must be. But it was a neighbour asking if she had a couple of shillings for the gas meter as their chicken wasn’t cooked and the gas had run out. Disappointed, she handed over some coins and returned to her living room. She checked on her meal, which was still uncooked, the meat looking smaller than ever, the potatoes greasy and unappetizing. She slammed the oven door and ate a biscuit.

  This won’t do. What was she thinking of, sitting here like this? Refusing all invitations then hoping someone would come and persuade her to change her mind. She was pathetic! She donned a coat and a headscarf and went down the street, heading for the beach, and bumped into Idris.

  ‘Kate asked me to see if you’ll change your mind about coming to Mam and Dad’s place.’

  ‘Thank her, will you? She’s very kind, but I’m having a lovely time just resting. A day off is a novelty when you work every day, remember.’

  ‘Richard will be there.’

  ‘Wish him a Happy Christmas for me.’

  ‘Shall I come in for a drink?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I’m just going out as you can see.’

  She walked to the car and got in, tempted to offer him a lift back to his parents’ to ease her loneliness for a few minutes, but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. She could smell drink on him and didn’t want the embarrassment of giving him another slap.