Rose impulsively reached out and touched his arm. ‘Please don’t be angry with the corporal. He meant no harm, and I’m to be trusted – unlike Mr Cardew,’ she added with a wry smile. ‘I can’t thank you enough for including me in your journey. I’d have been in real trouble if I couldn’t get to London to start my training course tomorrow morning.’
Ben nodded. ‘It’ll go no further this time – unlike Cardew, who will be going to prison if his actions are deemed not to be in the interests of this country. But rest assured, if it turns out he was simply a foolhardy man the authorities have told me he will be moved away from Ramsgate to save any embarrassment. The ladies of Sea View will have no reason ever see the man again. I informed your mother that the last of his possessions should be removed today. I hope that gives you some peace of mind?’
‘It does, thank you,’ she replied, realizing her hand was still on his arm and pulling it back quickly. ‘This war is already affecting so many people I know. This talk of it being over quickly – some say Christmas – what do you think?’
‘I can’t see it finishing any time soon. I fear things will get darker . . . much darker,’ he said, his eyes taking on a distant look. ‘We can only hope our loved ones can cope.’
‘Are you going to Fr— are you going away soon?’
‘Very soon, and I’m afraid that’s all I can say. These few days in London will be the last I see of Blighty for some time, I would think. For many reasons, but especially one, I wish it wasn’t so,’ he added with a bleak smile.
Rose took a shuddering breath. She felt as though someone had walked over her grave. Raising the tin mug of hot tea she just been handed, she said, ‘Until we meet again. And I hope it will be soon.’
‘We have a few days before we need to think about saying our goodbyes. I intend to make them memorable days that I can look back on.’
‘I look forward to that,’ she replied as their quiet moment was broken by the arrival of their food.
It was early evening as the army lorry drove down the Strand. ‘Look – I can just see Lyons Corner House,’ Rose said, more than a little excited. ‘Orchard House, where I will be training, is close by. I just need to find my way to where I’ll be staying,’ she added, looking in her handbag for the piece of paper with the address. ‘Thank you so much,’ she said to the lorry driver. ‘You can drop me here.’
‘I’ll do no such thing, Miss. The Captain has already given me the address, and that’s where I intend to drop you off. We can’t have you wandering around the streets of London with it starting to get dark, let alone have you disappearing in another snowdrift.’
Rumbles of agreement came from the back of the vehicle, where the other soldiers sat alongside Ben.
‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said, ignoring the jokes she could hear about losing her boots in the snow.
The journey into London had been long and arduous, and more than once they’d been stuck in the snow. The men had insisted she remain in the cab of the lorry while they put the vehicle back on the road.
They pulled up outside a four-storey house several streets away from where she would be working, and Rose was helped down from the lorry while her suitcase was unloaded from the back. Ben joined her on the pavement, carrying his own bag. With shouts of good luck ringing in her ears and promises of visiting the Margate tearooms when they were back in Thanet, they disappeared into the still falling snow.
‘Thank you so much for getting me here; you have a good team of men,’ she said as she went to pick up the suitcase. Ben beat her to it and despite her arguments walked to the front door of the establishment and gave the closed door a sharp knock.
Rose stood nervously as they heard footsteps approach from the other side of the door. From the outside the building did not seem inviting. She hoped it would appear different from inside.
‘I’m Miss Rose Neville. A room has been booked for me by a Mr Jones at Orchard House . . . the Lyons training school,’ she added as a short woman dressed from head to toe in black stood at the open door, glaring at them.
‘Your room has been cancelled,’ the woman replied with a stony stare.
Rose frowned. Surely this couldn’t be so? ‘The room is just for me.’ She explained, wondering if the woman thought Ben was to stay too. ‘Captain Hargreaves has been kind enough to bring me to London, as the trains aren’t running from Kent.’
‘There is no room for you; you should have been notified by your employers. My establishment is closed for the foreseeable future due to water damage. I wish you a good evening,’ she added before closing the door on the couple.
‘Oh dear, whatever can I do?’ Rose said, suddenly feeling tired and just a little tearful. ‘Orchard House will be closed by now; I can’t even go there to ask for advice.’
Ben picked up her suitcase. ‘You can come home with me, at least for tonight,’ he added before heading to the pavement and hailing a taxi.
‘But I’m not sure this is appropriate . . .’ she said as he ushered her inside and gave directions to the driver. ‘What would people say?’
‘People can mind their own business. I can’t very well leave you freezing in the street when I have a perfectly good flat only a mile away from here. Tomorrow is soon enough to sort out this mess. For tonight, you will be fed and given a warm bed to sleep in. Do you think your mother would approve?’
Rose knew her mum would be delighted that Ben was helping her daughter. She seemed to be more than a little enamoured of the man, from what Rose had witnessed that morning. ‘My mum will trust me to do what is right.’ She added a little primly, ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue.’
‘It’s my pleasure,’ he replied before leaning back in the seat as silence fell for the remainder of the journey.
When the car pulled up at the pavement and the car door opened by a uniformed doorman, Rose was stunned into silence as she entered the impressive Victorian building. She thought Ben’s home would be better than her own, but never envisaged such opulence. Deep pile carpets felt soft beneath her feet, whilst large oil paintings adorned the oak-panelled walls of the entrance hall. She followed Ben, and a young porter who’d been called to take the luggage, into a lift where a metal door was pulled shut and they were taken up towards the top of the building. Ben unlocked one of the two doors outside the lift, and the porter deposited the luggage on the floor. ‘That will be all, thank you, Albert,’ he said, slipping the lad a few coins.
‘Will I ask Mrs Benton to come up and cook for you, sir?’
‘No need to bother her this evening; we will go out to dine. Breakfast for half past seven in the morning, if you would let her know.’
The young porter touched his cap and left them alone.
‘You can close your mouth now,’ Ben grinned as he took off his overcoat and helped Rose from hers.
‘But this is . . . it’s . . .’
‘It’s my mother’s, and yes, it is rather grand. That’s my mother for you,’ he smiled, watching her look about in awe.
‘Are you sure your mother won’t mind me staying here?’ she asked, very aware of her wellington boots and old tweed skirt and the headscarf she’d just pulled off and stuffed into her pocket.
‘She would welcome you into her home, if she were here. We all use this as our bolthole when in London. Now she’s gone back to Scotland to wait out the war the place is often empty, unless my sister’s in town.’
Crikey, if this is a bolthole goodness knows what her proper home is like, Rose thought to herself as she looked round at the ornate mirrors and posh upholstered chairs. Her mum would be putting covers on everything in case anyone left a mark. ‘You are Scottish? I can’t detect an accent.’
‘No, but my mother is, and she’s extremely proud of her roots and will always have her say. I can see similarities in your mother.’
‘Oh yes, Mum will always have the last word,’ Rose laughed.
Ben grinned as they looked at each other in companionable silence,
both thinking of their mothers, until he slapped his leg in annoyance. ‘Here’s me inviting a guest into our home and not even offered you a drink. We usually have some sherry, or there’s a drop of gin if you prefer it?’ he said, opening the pull-down door of an ornate walnut cabinet.
‘You may think me daft but I’d much prefer a cup of tea, if you don’t mind – and is there somewhere I could wash my hands and powder my nose?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m not much of a host, am I? Let me show you to the guest room and you can get settled while I find the kitchen and a teapot. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a bite to eat. It’s been a while since we had that sandwich by the roadside. What say you get yourself dressed up and we go out to eat? There may even be time for a spot of dancing.’
Rose’s eyes lit up. ‘I’d like that, thank you.’
Ben showed her to the guest bedroom and pointed out the bathroom across the short passageway. ‘Help yourself to the toiletries. There should be plenty of hot water,’ he said before leaving her to settle in.
After closing the heavy drapes and putting on the light, she quickly opened a few doors and looked inside a large chest of drawers. There was plenty of room for the clothes she’d brought with her. She unpacked her dance frock and gave it a quick shake to remove a few creases before hanging it on the wardrobe door while she undressed. Pulling on a robe she found hanging behind the bedroom door, she grabbed her soap bag and hurried to the bathroom, locking the door.
Ben was right – there was plenty of hot water. Rose ran herself a bath, scattering in a handful of lavender-scented bath salts. Pinning her hair up, as there wouldn’t be time to towel it dry, she stepped into the soothing water and lay back, luxuriating in the warmth as gradually she felt the chills of the day leave her cold limbs. After five minutes she reluctantly stepped out and towelled her warm skin dry on a fluffy towel she found in the airing cupboard. Cleaning her teeth before tidying the room, she hurried back to her bedroom and dressed quickly, thanking God she’d packed her best underwear and stockings.
Sitting at the stool placed in front of a three-mirrored dressing table, she ran a brush through her hair, applied a little rouge to her cheeks and dabbed perfume behind her ears. After adding some lipstick to her lips, she fastened a string of pearls around her slender neck. They’d been a present from her mum when she’d turned twenty-one, and she’d only worn them a few times in the past couple of years as they were saved for special occasions. This was most certainly a special occasion. Slipping her feet into her dance shoes, she gave a quick twirl, checking her image in the full-length mirror inside the wardrobe door. Satisfied that she’d scrubbed up well, she went back to the drawing room and stopped in shock when she saw Ben standing there in a dinner jacket and crisp white shirt. He was always smart in his uniform, but now he took her breath away.
He gave her a wry look. ‘Are you any good at tying these things? I’m all fingers and thumbs,’ he said, holding up a bow tie.
‘Hmm. It’s been a while, but I used to help the General when he was getting himself done up for one of the functions he attended. He was a lovely man, and I do miss him. He lived at Sea View for as long as I can remember. He was such a gentleman; it’s rather sad to think that he was down on his luck. He said I had nimble fingers, but I’m not so sure they are as nimble now I’m an adult. I’ll give it a try, though. Bend down a little,’ she instructed him. After one false start caused by realizing how close she was to him and forgetting what to do in the heat of the moment, she found she remembered, and deftly knotted the black silk tie. Ben stood up straight as she cocked her head to one side, checking it was knotted properly. ‘You’ll do,’ she said, stepping back and giving him a smile. It was fatal to be so close to him. She could almost feel the electricity crackle between them. She felt herself weakening as she looked at his lips, longing to kiss him. Giving herself a mental shake, she stepped away. ‘I thought you were making us a cup of tea?’ she asked, not daring to look at him. ‘Or have you spent too long working out how to tie that thing?’
‘Tea is ready, madam,’ he bowed, before going to the kitchen and returning with a tray containing teacups and teapot.
Rose found herself giggling. ‘You look like one of those waiters they have in posh hotels. Perhaps I’d best pour, in case you spill it,’ she said. ‘I’ve had more training than you have.’
Ben sat in a nearby armchair and watched as she stirred the tea before pouring the amber liquid into two cups. ‘Milk and sugar?’ she asked, noting that the milk jug and sugar basin matched the teapot. She made a mental note to tell her mum how delicate the china was, but then thought better of it. Flora would want to know what she was doing alone with Ben. Although her mum seemed to like him, she was rather old-fashioned and might well go bonkers if she knew her daughter had spent the night alone with a man without a ring on her finger. To be honest, Rose felt the same way – but she couldn’t ignore the small thrill of excitement she felt at being alone with Ben.
‘Just milk, please,’ he said, bringing her back to her senses. ‘You looked miles away for a moment.’
‘I was just thinking about how they’re getting on back home with all this snow. I’m glad I’ve brought my heavy coat with me.’
Ben put down his cup and got to his feet. ‘I’ll just be a minute,’ he said, hurrying away.
Rose sipped her tea thoughtfully. Ben had put a light to the logs in the large fireplace, and there was a warm glow as they crackled. Part of her felt she could happily stay in this evening and relax, but a growl deep in her stomach reminded her she was hungry. She spotted a gramophone in an ornate wooden cabinet in the corner of the room. She would have loved to browse through the record collection and listen to some music. Perhaps there would be time later, she thought as Ben returned . . . ‘Oh my goodness,’ she gasped, as he wrapped a fur stole around her shoulders.
‘It will keep you as warm as your coat, but will look so much better with your dress.’
‘Is it . . . is it real?’
‘It’s real,’ he said, keeping his hands on her shoulders just a little longer than necessary before returning to his tea.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Rose said, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur. ‘Are you sure I can borrow it?’
Ben watched as her eyes sparkled and shone in delight. ‘My mother would have offered it to you a long time before I thought of the idea. She has several in her wardrobe.’
‘Gosh,’ was all Rose could think to say.
9
‘You didn’t have to come out in this horrid weather. I could have collected my clothes on my own,’ Lily said to Flora and Mildred.
‘Nonsense. You’d not have managed on your own,’ Flora said. ‘Many hands make light work, you know.’
‘I may as well tag along, as the boats are going out today,’ Mildred said from beneath her muffler and the large hood of her duffle coat. She didn’t add that she’d heard things about George Jacobs, and wasn’t going to let her landlady go to his house without some protection. She’d been relieved to know that young Lily was to become one of the inhabitants of the Sea View guesthouse.
‘I’m grateful to you both,’ Lily said loudly, her voice competing with the wind as they turned the corner of the road to face the turbulent sea. She had her fingers crossed inside her mittens that George would be out at the pub. He usually would be at this time of the day. She was embarrassed enough to have these two women see her home, let alone her drunken sod of a stepfather.
As they approached the small two-up, two-down terraced house, Flora noticed the untidy patch of garden and faded net curtains that hung limply at the windows. The woodwork needed a good going-over with a cleaning cloth, as even with the snow falling against the panes she could see a layer of dirt. Flora couldn’t blame young Lily, who spent long hours working at the teashop and must have still been grieving for her mum.
‘I do apologize for the mess,’ Lily said as they stepped over the threshold straig
ht into the front room. Looking around, she added, ‘I think he’s out somewhere. Let’s go straight up to my bedroom and get my things.’
The two women followed Lily up the narrow, steep stairs. What carpet remained on the steps was threadbare and frayed. She opened one of the two doors at the top of the staircase, and they followed her in. ‘This is a lovely room,’ Flora said. As she looked around she could see that Lily had made an attempt to create a comfortable resting place for herself. ‘Where shall we start?’ she asked, pulling several folded sacks from her shopping bag. ‘Is the bedding yours? I can strip the sheets and pillowcases and fold them up in here,’ she said waving the sack. ‘It’s quite clean. Do you have any others? If we keep them separate, we won’t need to wash both sets,’ she explained, as Lily nodded and pulled other sheets from a drawer. ‘You can use my sheets at the guesthouse as they all go off in the bag wash to the laundry, but it would be handy to have your own for future use. Think of them as starting your bottom drawer,’ she smiled.
Lily grinned. ‘Thank you for helping me. I’d not have thought to take them with me.’
‘Shall I start on your wardrobe while you sort out your knick-knacks?’ Mildred asked as she reached up to the top of the wardrobe and pulled down a suitcase, blowing off a layer of dust before flicking back the latch and opening the lid. ‘Shall I put everything in?’
‘If it will fit,’ Lily said gratefully, marvelling at how careful Mildred was with her possessions considering she was rather clumsy at times.
The women worked in companionable silence for a while until Lily wrapped the last of the few figurines that had belonged to her mother inside a pillowcase and gave a look around the room. ‘I think that’s everything,’ she said. ‘Let’s get out of here before . . .’ She stopped speaking as they heard the front door creak open and heavy footsteps cross the floor downstairs.
Mildred noticed a look of fear cross Lily’s face. It confirmed her worst suspicions. Feeling a rage grow inside her, she picked up the suitcase and turned to the others, saying, ‘Follow me and don’t be frightened.’ Striding down the stairs, she stepped into the front room. She found George looking at Lily’s coat, which she’d left draped across the back of a chair.
The Teashop Girls Page 15