by Nancy Revell
‘Explain, darling,’ George said.
‘Well, Charlotte’s obviously determined to find out more about this place.’ She waved her jewelled hand around. ‘Is intrigued by my good self and all those who live here. Is desperate to see where her big sister goes on an evening while she’s stuck at home doing a mound of boring homework.’
Rosie held back from telling her that Charlotte actually enjoyed doing homework.
‘For years, the poor girl’s been cooped up in that odious school, picked on and bullied relentlessly by the offspring of those who would gladly have that mad-brained, moustached German dwarf run our country.’ Lily drew in breath. ‘She’s been stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no excitement.’
Lily moved away from the fire.
‘You know what they say, variety is the spice of life and all that … Well, your little sister has been eating bread and butter for too long. Now she’s back in the real world, the girl’s like a child let loose in a sweet shop.’
George took a sip of his brandy. Lily might enjoy playing the role of a rather frivolous and flamboyant madam, but when necessary she could be remarkably astute, and surprisingly sensible.
‘She’s meeting all these different characters,’ Lily continued. ‘Women who wear overalls and weld and do men’s work. Women who look like Maisie or sound like Vivian. She wants to know everything about this new world she’s suddenly been allowed to inhabit. Everything about those around her. And because she’s got something between her two ears, she’s curious.’
Rosie thought about the time in the Maison Nouvelle when Charlie had been asking about what business Lily was in – and then they’d bumped into Maisie and Vivian going into town and she’d started to ask about what they did for a living.
Lily struck a match dramatically against the mantelpiece and lit another cigarette to punctuate her point.
‘So, let’s show her.’
She blew out a billow of smoke.
Rosie and George were quiet.
‘I suggest we shut up shop for the day. Possibly the Saturday after next. Give us time to tell all of our clients. The girls will be glad of it. They could all do with a day off. To say business has been booming is an understatement. That’s something we have to thank the war for, if nothing else.’
She took a long drag on her cigarette, thinking the whole scenario through.
‘We close for the day. And George and I invite you and Charlotte over for tea. Then Charlotte can have a good old nose around. Cure that curiosity of hers, and at the same time stop you worrying about her finding out that you work in a bordello.’
And that you didn’t always just do the bookkeeping, Lily thought but didn’t say.
‘It will be a chance for us to chat about everything she’s been champing at the bit to find out. I’ll make her feel she can ask me any question she wants, without cottoning on that it has all been carefully orchestrated to satiate that inquisitive mind of hers.’
Rosie raised her eyebrows and again glanced over to George, who mirrored her look.
‘That all sounds good so far,’ Rosie said, trying to hide her surprise that Lily, of all people, might have found the solution to a problem that was becoming more pressing by the day.
‘But what are you going to tell her?’ George said, reading Rosie’s thoughts and wondering the same himself.
‘Well, for starters I’ll tell her that I own properties here and in London, which isn’t exactly a lie. I own La Lumière Bleue in Soho, and George, you own your flat in Foyle Street … And I can tell her all about playing the stock market—’
‘But you don’t play the stock market,’ Rosie butted in. ‘That was something that came into my head when she was quizzing me about what “business” you are in.’
‘Ma chérie, just because I don’t gamble my own hard-earned cash doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two about what’s going on in the financial world.’ Lily looked at George.
‘I keep my ear to the ground,’ George confessed. ‘I was actually going to chat to you about investing some of your money as soon as the tide of war starts to turn in our favour.’
Rosie noted that George never wavered in his belief that they would win the war, no matter how dire the news.
‘See?’ Lily said. ‘Charlotte’s head will be so positively buzzing with thoughts of property ownership and playing the market that the last thing she’ll be thinking is that this lovely abode is anything other than a home owned by a rich and financially savvy couple. And it’ll also quell a very natural need to know where it is her sister goes off to on an evening. She can see it all with her own eyes.’
Rosie sat back in her chair.
‘That actually sounds like it might be a good idea,’ she conceded.
‘Yes, a bloody good idea,’ George agreed.
‘Mon Dieu, don’t sound so surprised!’ Lily gasped. ‘I have my moments, n’est-ce pas?’
She winked at George.
‘We can even tell her about the Gentlemen’s Club next door,’ Rosie mused, ‘and that Maisie and Vivian work there. It will explain their eccentricities.’
‘Good idea,’ Lily said. ‘Keep to the truth as much as possible – but without giving the game away.’
Lily let out a hoot of laughter.
‘Give the game away?’
Rosie raised her eyebrows at George.
They both suppressed a smile.
Chapter Fifteen
1936
‘Where are we going?’ Charlotte asked once they’d paid their fares and the bus was carrying on its route along the coast road.
‘We’re going to the same place you went the first time you travelled on a train.’
‘When I was really little, not little little,’ Charlotte chuckled. Now they were sitting on the bus her sister seemed happier. This felt more like an adventure.
‘We’re going to a wonderful place called Harrogate, which sells fudge and toffee and there’s the best tea shop in the whole wide world called Betty’s, where they sell the best cakes ever.’
‘Even better than Mam’s?’
Rosie felt a physical pain in her heart. No one would ever make cake that was as lovely as their mam’s.
‘Even better,’ Rosie said. She was surprised how easy it was to lie – to smile when she felt like crying.
Half an hour later they were at the train station in the centre of Sunderland.
Rosie once again felt on high alert.
There was a good chance Raymond would have come into town after he’d left their house.
She just needed to get Charlie away.
She took hold of her sister’s hand as they quickly made their way from the ticket office, down the two flights of stairs and onto the platform.
They sat down on one of the long wooden benches.
‘Let’s play I spy,’ Rosie suggested, knowing that she’d have an excuse to keep looking about, checking every person who came onto the platform.
A few times she felt herself gripped by panic on seeing someone who looked similar to Raymond. It was amazing how many scrawny older men there were in worn three-piece suits and flat caps.
They didn’t have to wait long for the train to arrive, but even when they were finally in their seats, Rosie couldn’t let herself relax.
When she heard all the doors slam shut and the stationmaster’s whistle sound out, she told Charlotte to stay put, keep an eye on the bags and not to talk to strangers. She then proceeded to walk the full length of the train, checking the toilets and even going into first class to double-check that Raymond wasn’t following them. She knew she was being overly cautious, perhaps even paranoid, but she didn’t care. She had to be sure that there was no way he would know where she was taking her sister.
When she returned she found Charlie fast asleep, her head resting against the window.
Rosie sat down next to her.
Only then did she finally relax.
And within minutes she too was fast aslee
p.
An hour and a half later they had pulled into York station and another half an hour later they were on the local service train to Harrogate.
‘When we get to Harrogate, we’re going to go and see some friends of Mam and Dad’s,’ Rosie said.
‘But I thought we were going to eat fudge and cake at the best tea shop called Betty’s?’ Charlotte said, her expression crestfallen.
‘Yes, yes, we will,’ Rosie said. ‘But first we need to go and see this couple. They’re called Mr and Mrs Rainer. They’re lovely people. They’re the people you saw the last time you were here.’
‘When I was really little?’
Rosie smiled and nodded.
‘You might even remember them when you see them. They thought you were the best little girl they’d ever come across. “Totally adorable,” I remember Mrs Rainer saying you were.’
‘Really?’
Another nod.
‘But we can go and have cakes and fudge afterwards?’
‘Course we can.’
The train stopped for a few minutes in a place called Knaresborough and a group of schoolgirls boarded. They were chatting away nineteen to the dozen.
‘Are these taken?’ one of the older girls asked on seeing two empty seats opposite Rosie and Charlotte.
‘They’re free,’ Rosie said, sitting up straight. The older girl and her friend sat down and carried on their conversation.
Pretending not to eavesdrop, Rosie looked out the window, inspecting their uniform in the glass reflection – grey with a red border. Rosie had only ever seen schoolgirls dressed like this on the covers of books and in comics. The emblem on the breast pocket of their blazers had ‘Runcorn’ embroidered on it.
As the train approached Harrogate, Rosie turned her attention away from the passing greenery and looked straight at the older girl, who had been doing most of the talking.
‘Sorry to interrupt,’ Rosie said, putting on her best voice. ‘But can you tell me what school it is that you both go to?’
‘The Runcorn School for Girls,’ came the slightly brusque reply.
‘And is the Runcorn School for Girls near Harrogate?’ Rosie asked.
‘Just about a mile or so out of town. On the outskirts.’ This time the girl’s tone was not quite so brusque.
‘Forgive me for being so inquisitive,’ Rosie continued, again in her best King’s English, ‘but I’m sure my aunty used to go there. Is it by chance a boarding school?’
‘Yes, it is. What’s your aunt’s name? We might know her. The head’s always going on about former alumni.’ The older girl looked at her friend, who nodded her agreement.
‘Oh really? What’s the head’s name?’
‘Miss Tilley.’ The girls both giggled. ‘We call her “Silly Tilley”.’
Rosie forced herself to chuckle.
‘Really? And is she? Silly?’
‘Oh, she’s as mad as a March hare,’ the girls said in unison and burst into more fits of giggles.
‘But she’s harmless,’ the older girl said. ‘It’s the deputy head, Mrs Willoughby-Smith, who’s a right old dragon.’
The carriage jerked forward and started to slow down.
The two girls jumped up.
‘Nice to chat,’ the older girl said.
She turned to leave the carriage.
‘Oh, you didn’t tell us the name of your aunt?’
‘You wouldn’t know her,’ Rosie smiled. ‘She’s ancient. Gosh, she must have been at the school sometime in the last century.’
The girls let out another burst of giggles and left.
‘I didn’t know we had an aunt?’ Charlotte said.
‘We don’t,’ Rosie said.
Charlotte looked puzzled.
‘She died years and years ago.’
As they got their bags and prepared for the next part of their ‘adventure’, Rosie realised she had lied more in the past few hours than she had in her entire life.
It would be a craft she would hone and refine as the days, weeks and months wore on.
‘Mr and Mrs Rainer?’ Rosie said.
‘Oh, goodness me! Rosie! Charlotte! What a surprise!’
Mrs Rainer craned her neck to look over the two girls and down the street.
‘Where’s your mother and father?’
There was an awkward silence.
Mrs Rainer turned her attention back to the two girls standing on her doorstep. She realised for the first time that they had a suitcase with them.
And were dressed from head to toe in black.
‘They’re …’ Rosie hesitated. She looked at Charlotte and back at Mrs Rainer. ‘They’re … not here.’
Mrs Rainer’s hand went to her chest.
‘Come in! Come in!’ She ushered them in, touching Charlotte affectionately on the head as she walked past her.
‘My, how you’ve grown … Go on into the lounge … Rosie, just leave the suitcase in the hallway. Dear me, it looks like it weighs a ton.’ She stepped towards the kitchen door and shouted through: ‘Thomas! We’ve got company. Eloise’s two girls.’
When Rosie explained that their mam and dad weren’t here because they were dead, Mr and Mrs Rainer didn’t move.
Rosie remembered doing the same when the teacher at school had taken her out of the class and told her.
Watching Mrs Rainer now, Rosie expected tears to follow. Shock followed by an unstoppable grief.
She was surprised when they didn’t, and found herself liking her mother’s friend all the more for it.
‘Oh, my poor dears.’ Mrs Rainer got up and sat down next to Charlotte to give her a hug. She reached over, took hold of Rosie’s hand and squeezed it. ‘I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.’
Mrs Rainer looked up at her husband, who was still in shock.
‘Why don’t you go and put the kettle on, love?’ she said.
She watched her husband get up and leave, before focusing her attention back on Charlotte, who was keeping her feelings in check.
‘Well, it looks like you’re both being very brave about it all.’
She gave Charlotte another hug before releasing her.
‘Charlotte, why don’t you get Mr Rainer to take you into the back garden to show you our new chickens?’
‘Chickens?’ Charlotte’s face lit up. ‘You’ve got chickens?’
‘We have indeed, my dear. And I do believe it’s feeding time. Ask Mr Rainer to show you how it’s done.’
Charlotte was already standing up.
‘And have a look to see if there’s any eggs. We had two yesterday,’ Mrs Rainer said.
Within seconds Charlotte had gone in search of Mr Rainer.
‘This is terrible news.’ Mrs Rainer turned to Rosie. ‘I can’t say how sorry I am for you both.’ She looked at Rosie. ‘To be honest, I can’t quite take it on board myself, so heaven knows how you’re feeling … And Charlotte …’ She paused. ‘I didn’t like to ask with Charlotte sat there, but how did it happen? I’m guessing it must have been some kind of accident, if they’re both dead?’
Rosie was glad Mrs Rainer had no qualms about using the word ‘dead’. So many people since her mam and dad had died seemed unable to say it.
‘It was a car accident,’ Rosie explained.
Mrs Rainer looked puzzled.
‘But I didn’t think Eloise or William drove – never mind had a car.’
‘No, they didn’t. It was a car that hit them.’ Rosie said. ‘Then drove off.’
‘Drove off?’ Mrs Rainer was incredulous. ‘Why would they drive off?’
‘I’m guessing because whoever was driving the car would have been done for it,’ Rosie said. ‘That’s what the police said, anyway.’
‘Really …’ Mrs Rainer shook her head in disbelief.
‘The police explained to me that they were looking into it,’ Rosie said, ‘but it was unlikely they’d find the person because no one saw the accident.’ She stopped. ‘No, I tell a lie, there was one witness, but they
were so shocked at seeing Mam and Dad knocked over, they couldn’t even tell the police what kind of car it was.’
‘Oh my goodness. This is truly appalling.’ Mrs Rainer inspected Rosie. ‘Are you all right? I mean really all right? You must be traumatised.’
‘I’m fine,’ Rosie lied. It felt better than telling the truth. ‘I really am. Honestly. I know Mam and Dad wouldn’t want me to sit around wringing my hands and sobbing into a hanky.’
Rosie took a deep breath.
‘I know Mam and Dad would also have wanted me to make sure Charlotte was all right too … Which is why I’m here.’ She looked at Mrs Rainer to gauge her reaction, but couldn’t tell. ‘I’m all right because I’m nearly sixteen. I can get a job and look after myself, but Charlotte’s still too young.’
‘How old is she now?’ Mrs Rainer asked.
‘Eight,’ Rosie said. ‘And that’s the problem. They won’t let me become her guardian, which means she’ll have to go into a children’s home. I heard them talking the day before the funeral, saying that as Mam was Catholic, even though she wasn’t practising, they’d be able to get Charlie into a place called Nazareth House.’
‘Run by the Poor Sisters of Nazareth?’
‘That’s right.’ Rosie was surprised Mrs Rainer had heard of them.
‘They’ve got them all over the country,’ Mrs Rainer explained, seeing Rosie’s surprise.
‘Well, they might seem all righteous and godly, but I know they’re not.’ Rosie started to talk quickly. She had to convince Mrs Rainer that the nuns weren’t good people like everyone thought. ‘I don’t want Charlie to go there and I know Mam wouldn’t either. We saw my friend Kate after the nuns had taken her in. Her legs were covered in bruises – black as the nuns’ habits, they were. She was trailing behind, looking like she’d had the life beaten out of her. It was awful.’ Rosie shivered. ‘I said to Mam I thought nuns were meant to be kind, like Jesus, and she said that sometimes people aren’t what they appear.’
‘That’s true. Very true,’ Mrs Rainer said.
‘So, I was hoping, as we don’t have any more family—’ Rosie said tentatively.
‘I know your mam had a brother,’ Mrs Rainer interrupted.