by Ellie Dean
Not wanting to disturb Louise, she quietly let herself in through her own back door and slowly climbed the stairs. It had been a hectic evening, with riotous singing round the old piano in the smoky, overcrowded pub, followed by dancing at one of the hotels. Now she was tired and ready for bed.
‘What time do you call this?’
Rita’s heart jumped as Louise emerged from the gloom at the top of the stairs. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Waiting for you to come home.’ Louise’s expression was thunderous. ‘Where have you been?’
‘Only to the pub, and then on to a dance. We’ve spent half the night in an air-raid shelter,’ Rita gabbled. ‘I’m sorry you were worried.’
‘Worried?’ Louise shrieked. ‘Of course I’ve been worried, you careless, thoughtless girl. How dare you stay out all night?’
‘I’m sorry, really, but you knew it was May’s last evening at home, and I didn’t think you’d—’
‘That’s the point, Rita. You didn’t think. You don’t think of me at all.’
‘That’s not true,’ she protested, following Louise into the main room. ‘I’m always thinking of you.’
‘Then perhaps you’d like to explain this.’ Louise held out the letter.
Rita stared at it in horror. ‘Where did you . . .?’
‘I was tidying up and it fell out of your trouser pocket.’ Louise threw it onto the scarred and battered table and folded her arms. ‘Were you thinking of me when you applied for this posting? Did you think of me tonight when May was talking about her flying?’
‘I was going to tell you,’ Rita stuttered.
‘When? Tomorrow? The day after? Perhaps a couple of hours before you leave Cliffehaven?’
‘No.’ Tears sprang in her eyes as she reached out to Louise. ‘I was going to tell you today, Mamma. I promise.’
‘How am I to believe your promises when you keep such a thing from me?’ yelled Louise in a rush of rapid Italian. ‘How am I to tell Papa you wish to abandon me to the enemy bombers? How can you love me so little that you plot and plan to leave this home we have given you?’
‘Please, Mamma, it’s not like that. It really isn’t.’
Louise shrugged off her hand, sank into a chair and burst into tears. ‘You are my bambina, my heart, my little one, but you betray me,’ she sobbed, her words tripping one over the other, the Italian flowing as rapidly as her tears. ‘You leave me just as my other daughters have. I have no one, no one.’
Rita stood there helpless against the storm. ‘I just wanted to do something different, something more exciting than welding bits of planes together. Please, Mamma, try and understand how important this chance is to really make something of myself. It may never come again.’
‘No. I do not understand – I will never understand. Why do you wish to leave me all alone without Papa and Roberto when this is your home?’
‘I can’t stay here forever,’ Rita reasoned softly. ‘I’m eighteen. It’s time I made my own way. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you, or appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Mamma.’
Louise grabbed her arm. ‘Then don’t go,’ she said urgently through her tears. ‘I have lost too many people I love. I can’t bear losing you too.’
‘You won’t lose me, Mamma. I’ll only be away a short while for training, and then I’ll be based at the local airfield.’
‘It does not say that here.’ Louise grabbed the letter and waved it in Rita’s face. ‘It says only you will go away to be trained and then it is up to the WAAFs as to where you will be posted. They could send you anywhere.’
Rita sank into the other chair, Vi Charlton’s words ringing in her ears. ‘Mamma,’ she began, ‘please try to understand how much I want to do this. Let me go and do the initial training at least.’
‘No. I will not give my permission. You will stay here with me.’
Rita swallowed the angry retort, aware that losing her temper would simply make things worse. But she had to fight for what she knew was right. ‘Mamma,’ she said as calmly as she could, ‘I do not need your permission. I’m eighteen and have every right to enlist in whatever service I wish.’
‘You will defy me?’ Louise raised her tear-streaked face and glared at her with reddened eyes.
‘I don’t want to defy you. I want your blessing, but if you refuse, then I’m sorry, Mamma, I will do it anyway.’
Louise broke into noisy, hysterical tears. ‘How can I give you my blessing when you wish to wound me with this defiance – this cruelty?’ she gabbled in Italian. ‘You wish to leave me here, all alone with the enemy bombing me, our house in danger every night, the streets unsafe. How can you do this to me when I am alone – when there is no Papa Tino to protect me?’
Rita realised she would get no sense out of Louise tonight, for she wasn’t listening, couldn’t comprehend how much this posting meant to her, or understand that Rita wasn’t abandoning her, merely growing up and moving on to make her own way in life. ‘We’ll talk more after we’ve both had a good sleep,’ she murmured, gathering her into her embrace.
Louise sank into her arms. ‘You will change your mind,’ she murmured. ‘Come the morning you will forget all this silly talk of motorbikes and see that you have a duty to your Mamma to stay with her. For this is what Papa and Roberto asked of you on that terrible day they were taken away – and I know you will not break the promise you made to them.’
Rita fought her tears as she held Louise and tried desperately to think of a way round this terrible emotional blackmail. Vi Charlton had been right – she’d seen how it was with Louise because she could view their relationship from a distance. If only Peggy was not in Somerset she could have gone to her for advice. As it was, she had little choice but to weather Louise’s tears and try to make her understand how important it was for her to make her own choices in life, and not to be forever tied to Louise’s apron strings.
Chapter Ten
RITA HAD GIVEN in to Louise’s pleas not to be left alone for the next few hours, and returned with her to her house. But as Louise slept fitfully in the other room, Rita paced the floor, unable to settle to anything more than making endless cups of tea.
She had a thudding headache and her emotions and thoughts were in turmoil as she tried to work out the best way of appeasing Louise without giving in to her demands. Yet, at every juncture, she came up against that great wall of Louise’s neediness, and her own profound reluctance to cause her further anguish.
If only she had someone to talk to, to advise her, but May would have left by now, Peggy was in Somerset, Anne had enough to worry about with running Beach View, and she didn’t really know Jim Reilly well enough to talk to him about it. Even her own father was out of reach – how she yearned to be able to talk to him, to hear his soothing voice and feel the comfort of his embrace.
She drank the last dregs of the cooling tea and glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. It was time to go to work, but she had no idea how she would get through the next eight hours. Her concentration was all over the place, her head pounded and she felt sick – not the best way to begin a new day in the heat and noise of an engineering factory.
Rita left a note for Louise and hurried next door to get changed back into her working clothes, make a flask of tea and stuff down a Spam sandwich. She hesitated as she saw the discarded letter on the table and then folded it carefully and tucked it in the inside pocket of her old flying jacket. There was one person she could trust to give her good advice, but it could prove a bit tricky to get to him.
With this thought, she hurried downstairs, opened the garage doors and fired up the Norton. It was too early yet, the doctors would be on their rounds and Matron would be prowling the wards, but she could try and see Ron during the lunch hour.
The hours dragged as she tried not to make too many mistakes. Luckily, Major Patricia was busy for most of the morning showing the bigwigs from the RAF around the factory and entertaining them in her office, so she managed t
o avoid a dressing-down for the shoddy work she was producing today.
Discarding yet another attempt to get the welding correct, she gave up and stripped off the protective apron, helmet and gloves. Reaching for her jacket and gas mask box, she ran out of the factory, fired up the bike and was gone before anyone noticed. She would get it in the neck, that was for sure, but this was urgent, and surely Major Patricia would prefer her to be fully concentrated rather than careless and worried sick about her predicament?
Rita decided she didn’t really care what others thought of her as she raced on the bike towards Camden Road and the hospital. She’d been given the chance to do something very special and was determined not to be thwarted.
The hospital was busy as usual, with doctors, nurses and porters all going about their varying jobs with a bustling sense of importance and urgency. Rita parked the Norton round the side of the vast grey building that sprawled across an entire block, and swiftly took off her helmet and goggles, tucking them away in the pannier.
Her work clothes and heavy boots would make it difficult to blend in with the neat uniforms and long white coats, but there was not much she could do about that. She just had to hope Matron was occupied elsewhere, and that the sister on the ward would let her sneak in.
Rita ran up the steps and into the echoing reception hall. She knew where Ron’s ward was, she’d been to visit him only two days ago, but it meant going up the marble staircase and along a great many corridors before she reached him, and she just had to pray that no one stopped her.
Hurrying along, she was aware of the curious looks of those she passed, but she kept going until she reached the double doors of Men’s Medical. The corridor outside was empty, but she could hear the nurses chattering in the sluice as they made cups of tea and put their feet up for a few minutes.
She took a peek through one of the round windows set in the doors. Ron was sitting up, and looked a great deal better as he chatted to the man in the bed next to him and ate his lunch. There seemed to be no nurses on the ward, so she pushed the door open and slipped inside.
‘Hello, darling,’ said the man cheerfully from the bed close to the door. ‘Come to give us a bed-bath then?’
‘Not today,’ she muttered, hurrying towards Ron.
‘Hey, Ron,’ yelled the man. ‘How come you get to have all the pretty visitors when all I get is the mother-in-law?’
‘Keep your voice down, you eejit,’ growled Ron. ‘Do you want Matron to hear?’ He grinned up at Rita. ‘This is a nice surprise, so it is,’ he said, pushing away the tray of food. ‘Come to rescue me?’
‘It’s me who needs rescuing, Ron.’ She perched on the edge of the chair beside his bed and shot an anxious look at the doors.
‘Tell me quick,’ he muttered.
Rita let it all pour out as he scanned the letter. ‘I don’t know what to do for the best, Ron,’ she finished, close to tears.
‘There, there, girlie, don’t fret yourself.’ Ron patted her hand. ‘’Tis a tricky business, trying to please everyone, and I can see how much you’re wanting to do this thing. But you have to understand Louise better if you’re to be persuading her to let you go.’
Rita frowned. ‘I don’t see . . .’
‘Louise has always had someone to look after her, so she has no real confidence when it comes to making decisions and standing on her own two feet. I remember her as a wee girl. Pretty little t’ing she was, but shy, terrible shy.’
‘She still finds it a bit of a trial to make friends,’ Rita agreed. ‘But she seems to be doing all right at the factory, and I thought . . .’
Ron eyed the abandoned plate of unappetising food with a sigh. ‘She’ll not change now,’ he murmured. ‘It’s the fault of her parents, of course, but they thought they were doing the right thing by protecting her from the real world.’
He became thoughtful as the memories returned. ‘Louise was the baby they’d longed for and never thought they would have. Her mother was over forty when she was born, and from that moment they smothered her in love.’
‘But surely they realised she’d have to learn to stand on her own eventually? With much older parents there was always the possibility that . . .’
‘Aye, you’re right there, Rita. But, you see, they were blinded by their love for her, unable to see that tying her so closely to them meant she would never really have a normal life. They couldn’t see that it was in the nature of things to let their young fly and make the mistakes and the decisions that would ensure a happy, fulfilled life.’
‘That’s terribly sad,’ said Rita. ‘Poor Louise.’
He grimaced. ‘They didn’t even really want her to go out to work, afraid she might be influenced by the wrong sort of people and led astray, but of course they barely had two pennies to scrape together, so they had to let her earn something. Even then, they found her a bit of a job working for a close friend of theirs so they could keep an eye on her.’
‘Louise did tell me she worked at a hotel for a while before she married Tino.’
‘Ah, Tino. Yes. That was the only time she rebelled.’
‘She was only sixteen when they married,’ murmured Rita. ‘I’m surprised her parents gave their consent with her being so young and precious.’
‘Her father was in his late sixties by then, and not in good health. I think they realised suddenly that if anything happened to either of them, Louise would be left on her own. Tino was a hard-working, honest man with good prospects, who clearly adored their Louise, and as she seemed so determined to marry him, they gave them their blessing.’
‘So Louise went straight from being an adored daughter to become an adored wife. I know she relied on Tino for everything, and is totally lost without him.’
‘Which is why she’s clinging to you, Rita.’
‘A friend said much the same thing only the other week,’ murmured Rita. ‘I didn’t want to believe her, but it seems she was right.’ She regarded him through her unshed tears. ‘What can I do, Ron?’
He took her hand. ‘Perhaps if I spoke to her it would help – I don’t know. I wish to God Peggy was here. She’d know how to sort this out.’
‘I wish I did,’ sighed Rita. ‘But Louise has lost everyone she’s ever held dear. Even her own daughters fled the nest early to start new lives in America – how can I possibly persuade her to let me go too while Tino and Roberto are as good as missing?’
‘What are you doing in here?’
They both looked up guiltily at the ward sister.
‘I needed to see Mr Reilly urgently,’ said Rita.
‘We have set visiting hours,’ the sister replied, darting a glance at the doors. ‘And if Matron catches you it’ll be me in trouble. Please leave – now.’
‘I’ll be off too,’ said Ron, throwing back the bedclothes.
‘The doctor said you were not to be discharged until this evening,’ said the ward sister. ‘It is only one o’clock. Please get back into bed, Mr Reilly.’
‘Sure, and it won’t matter a jot if I leave a little earlier.’ Ron grabbed the hospital dressing gown and began to rummage in the bedside locker.
The nurse wrung her hands in distress. ‘Please, Mr Reilly. You can’t just discharge yourself. There are rules and forms and—’
‘Give me the forms and I’ll sign ’em,’ he muttered. ‘I’ll even beard Matron in her den and tell her my decision to leave has nothing to do with you.’
‘That won’t be necessary, Mr Reilly, but I do think you should wait until we can arrange some kind of transport for you. You really aren’t well enough to walk home.’
Ron gathered up his clothes, balancing his boots on top of them. ‘How did you get here, Rita?’
‘On the Norton, but—’
‘Well, that’s good enough for me. I’ll meet you outside once I’ve filled in Sister’s forms and put me clothes back on. Sure a ride on a motorbike will blow the cobwebs of this place away.’
‘Mr Reilly,’ the sister gaspe
d in horror. ‘You can’t possibly—’
‘Nothing’s impossible, Sister – not when I set me mind to it.’ He jerked his head in the direction of the ward doors. ‘Go and start ’er up, girlie. I’ll be with you in a jiffy.’
Rita shot an apologetic look at the flabbergasted nurse and hurried out of the ward. She heard the swing doors clatter behind her and Ron’s cheerful voice as he said goodbye to the other patients, but she didn’t hang about – Matron could already be on her way, and she didn’t fancy the ructions Ron’s escape would incur.
She raced down the stairs, dodged trolleys and porters and hurried outside to the motorbike. She doubted the wisdom of letting Ron ride pillion, but the darling old man knew his own mind, and it wasn’t up to her to question him.
Rita was grinning as she kicked the starter, tweaked the accelerator, and let the engine rumble. Life was always an adventure with Ron, and although he hadn’t really solved her problem, she was profoundly grateful that she’d thought to ask for his help, for now she didn’t feel quite so alone. Between them, they would find a way of persuading Louise to change her mind, she was certain of that.
Rita checked her watch, gauged how long it would take Ron to dress, sign the forms and get down all those stairs. She then slowly drove the bike to the bottom of the front steps. The engine rumbled idly as she waited, and her pulse began to race. She wondered if this was how it felt to break out of prison. She’d seen a film once where the getaway car was waiting outside, the escaped man clambering over the wall, running to the car and shouting at the driver to put his foot down as the alarms began to ring inside the prison and police cars raced to stop them.
Ron appeared at the top of the steps, dressed for once in a decent pair of trousers, shirt, jumper and thick tweed overcoat which no doubt Anne had brought in. His boots had been polished and a cap was pulled low over his eyes to hide the bandage that covered the wound on his head. He carried his pyjamas and washbag rolled up under one arm.