Some Sunny Day (12 page)

The female half of the young couple they were seated with moved closer to her boyfriend and Rosie was mortified to see the look of disapproval she was casting in Sylvia’s direction, but as she
already knew, Sylvia was irrepressible. And it wasn’t as though she meant any real harm.

‘It’s hot in here,’ Sylvia complained. ‘You haven’t got a bit of Ponds or Snowfire in your bag, have you?’

‘I have but you can’t powder your face here in public,’ Rosie reminded her, scandalised. Even her mother wouldn’t dream of putting on her ‘slap’ in a room full of people.

‘Well, I’m not getting up and having our seats snapped up by someone else,’ Sylvia responded promptly. ‘And promise me you won’t go telling the other girls about this, will you?’ she begged, indicating her enhanced bust.

Rosie shook her head. ‘You’ll have to be careful when you get up and dance,’ she warned, eyeing the protuberance uneasily. ‘What do you want to drink? Port and lemon?’

‘If you hang on a minute,’ Sylvia hissed to her, ‘we probably won’t have to buy our own drinks.’ She opened her handbag and to Rosie’s astonishment extracted a packet of cigarettes.

‘What are you doing?’ Rosie asked her, mystified. ‘You don’t smoke.’

‘They’re our Clara’s,’ Sylvia told her, adding mischievously, ‘Watch this.’

To Rosie’s discomfort, the moment they saw the cigarette packet, several of the young men at the adjoining table leaped to their feet, pushing one another out of the way in their determination to be the first to offer Sylvia a light. Lance didn’t get
up, though, Rosie noticed. He stayed where he was, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Sylvia through the smoke from his own cigarette.

Rosie had heard the girls at work talking about how Lance was involved in the kind of ‘business’ activities that involved obtaining and selling goods from the docks that had ‘fallen off the back of a lorry’.

‘A real nasty temper he has on him – even Nancy herself used to say as much,’ Bernadette had told them.

Other girls might think that Lance was handsome but there was something about him that made Rosie feel inexplicably uncomfortable.

It quickly became obvious, though, that Sylvia didn’t share her feelings, and whilst Rosie looked on in dismay, Sylvia put on an act of demure naughtiness  that wouldn’t have discredited a screen actress, and somehow, despite Rosie’s protests, within five minutes of them arriving, they had moved from their own table to share that of Lance and his friends.

‘Sylvia, I wish you hadn’t done this,’ Rosie protested under cover of tucking her handbag beneath her chair. ‘I’d have rather we’d stayed where we were.’

‘Wot, and give up the chance of talking to a few lads? Don’t be daft. This is wartime, Rosie. We’ve got to enjoy ourselves whilst we can. We could all be dead tomorrow.’

Rosie shivered, her mother’s words from earlier
ringing in her ears. She just wondered what Christine was up to…

Rosie knew it wasn’t the ‘few lads’ Sylvia was interested in – just one of them. And she could see from the way that Lance was watching Sylvia that he knew it as well. Sylvia might think she knew what was what, but Lance was closer to thirty than twenty, and obviously worldly-wise. Rosie wasn’t happy about the situation they were in. However, it was impossible for her to tell Sylvia how she felt now that they were actually sitting here, and Rosie’s own sense of responsibility wouldn’t allow her to leave Sylvia all alone with a man she disliked so much. Still, even if she couldn’t leave, she could make her feelings plain, which she did by steadfastly refusing to allow anyone to buy her a port and lemon, insisting that she bought her own drink and that it was just lemonade.

‘For heaven’s sake, Rosie, why are you drinking lemonade? Do you want them to think that we’re just kids?’

‘I’d rather have them thinking that than thinking that we’re easy,’ Rosie retorted sharply. ‘A bit of fun’s one thing, Sylvia, but a person can take things too far. You know what they say about girls who start making up to every lad they meet.’

Sylvia’s face crumpled and she looked so upset that Rosie immediately felt guilty.

‘I just thought that we could have a bit of fun, that’s all,’ Sylvia protested. ‘Just a few dances and a bit of a laugh. Where’s the harm in that?’

Her distress made Rosie feel that she was being unnecessarily prim and critical. And it was true that the other men seemed to be decent enough sorts, even if they were drinking a fair bit. They were certainly full of fun and good humour, exchanging jokes with one another and competing to sit next to Rosie and Sylvia and compliment them, but Rosie was still glad when a discreet look at her watch told her that it was time to leave.

‘It’s getting on for ten, Sylvia,’ she warned her friend, reminding her, ‘I’ve got fire-watch drill in the morning.’

‘Fire-watch drill? Ah, come on, you don’t go doing that, do you?’ Lance jeered. ‘You won’t catch me getting roped in for anything like that. I can think of better things to do wi’ me time of a blackout.’ He winked at Sylvia.

‘It’s the law,’ Rosie told him stiffly, and then wished she hadn’t brought herself to his attention when he leered at her.

‘Well, there’s them wot’s daft enough to let others tell ’em wot to do and then there’s them like me wot does what they want. And when you know the right people like I do, you don’t have to bother with that kind of stuff,’ he told her.

Rosie’s face burned.

‘I bet you could get away with anything if you set your mind to it, Lance,’ Sylvia told him flirtatiously.

‘Pretty much,’ he agreed. ‘I can certainly see to it that a pretty girl like you gets a good time.’

Sylvia giggled and moved closer to him, ignoring Rosie’s hint that it was time for them to leave, but then to Rosie’s relief, she saw two of Sylvia’s sisters heading towards them.

‘Sylvia,’ she warned, nodding meaningfully in their direction.

Immediately Sylvia, who had just moved her chair closer to Lance’s, stood up, grabbing her coat and her handbag and holding them tightly in front of herself.

‘Oh Gawd, quick, Rosie. Come on, I need the cloakroom,’ she muttered, hurrying through the crowd, leaving Rosie to follow her.

‘There’s no point hiding from them in here,’ Rosie told her when she finally caught up with her.

‘It’s not me sisters,’ Sylvia wailed, putting down the bag she was clutching to her chest. ‘It’s this –
look
.’

Rosie stared at the now lopsided curve of Sylvia’s chest and started to giggle.

‘It’s all right for you,’ Sylvia groaned. ‘But I can’t go back in there now…’

‘Well, that’s what you get for flirting like you were doing,’ Rosie told her, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

‘I could feel Lance trying to get his hand round me back,’ Sylvia admitted. ‘It’s just as well he couldn’t get any further. What would he have thought when he got hold of a handful of unfinished knitting and old socks?’

Rosie couldn’t help it. She started to splutter with laughter again and after a few seconds even Sylvia herself joined in.

‘Mind you, it’s p’raps just as well we’re leaving. I don’t want our Clara telling me dad on me.’ She pulled a small face, but Rosie could understand why Sylvia’s elder sisters might be concerned.

‘You are only sixteen,’ she reminded her.

‘I’m seventeen next month. Rosie, it’s only ten o’clock and we don’t normally leave the Grafton until at least eleven.’

‘Like I said I’ve got fire-watch practice in the morning, and besides…’ Rosie looked uncertainly at Sylvia, ‘I can tell that you like him, Sylvia, but that Lance…well, he’s a lot older than you and…I’ve heard that…’

‘I don’t care what you’ve heard about him, Rosie. I mek me own mind up about folk, and if you want the truth, I think you was a little bit put out because he fancied me more than he did you.’

Rosie couldn’t believe her ears. ‘I wasn’t put out at all,’ she denied emphatically.

‘Well, that’s not how it looked to me,’ Sylvia retorted huffily as they left the dance hall. ‘Anyway, you’re out of luck because Lance told me that he wanted to see me again.’

Outside they stood still to get their bearings whilst their eyes adjusted to the darkness of the blackout. It never got any easier.

‘If I were you I wouldn’t count on seeing him again,’ Rosie warned her firmly. ‘And I can’t see
your dad being too pleased if he comes round to your house looking for you.’

Sylvia gave a small shudder, and then admitted reluctantly, ‘No, I don’t want me dad knowing about him. He’s allus yellin’ about what he’d do to us if any of us were to get ourselves in the family way unwed. Not that that’s goin’ to happen to me! Oooh, Rosie, just think what it would be like though, marrying a handsome chap like Lance who knows what’s what. And he’s not short of a bob or two either, from the way he was talking and the clothes he wears. He was telling me how he’d have had this posh new Morris car but for the war.’

Rosie shook her head. For all that she pretended to be so ‘grown up’, Sylvia could be so very naïve at times. ‘Talk’s cheap,’ she warned Sylvia firmly.

‘And what does that mean exactly when it’s at home?’ Sylvia challenged her angrily. ‘’Cos if you’re trying to say that Lance was lying—’

‘You’ve only just met Lance, Sylvia, and you and me are supposed to be friends. We were supposed to be out having fun tonight,’ Rosie reminded her.

‘Mebbe so, but a girl knows when she’s met the right one, and I reckon that me and Lance—’ Sylvia broke off and sighed. ‘I really do fancy him, Rosie. And I don’t have to worry about him going round to our house either, because I didn’t give him me address. But I did tell him where we work and that we go dancing at the Grafton every Saturday,’ she added smugly, linking her arm through Rosie’s as
she cajoled her. ‘You want to loosen up a bit yourself, Rosie, and not be so starchy. Here, put your torch on, will you? The battery’s gone in mine.’

Rosie gave a small sigh as she switched on the small torch such as everyone carried round with them to use in the blackout. Her father had brought her it back from New York along with a good supply of batteries, and she didn’t really begrudge using it more than her friends used theirs because she knew how hard it was for them to get replacement batteries.

‘See you at work on Monday,’ Sylvia called after her when they parted to go to their respective bus stops.

Rosie waved her off. She couldn’t help enjoying Sylvia’s good-humoured company, despite the fact that sometimes her behaviour was not how Rosie would have acted herself. Rosie hoped that she wasn’t a spoilsport, the kind of girl who didn’t like a bit of fun, but Sylvia was very young and Rosie couldn’t help worrying about her and wanting to protect her. She and Bella had got on so well, and had understood one another so completely that there had been no need for things like this. It was true that at times Rosie had thought that Bella’s mother’s refusal to let her go dancing or have a bit of fun was mean, but she had still understood that Bella was expected to behave in a certain way because of her Italian upbringing. Sylvia was just the opposite from Bella, and being older than Sylvia, Rosie was more aware of just how easy it was for a girl to get the wrong
kind of reputation. She liked Sylvia far too much to want to see something like that happen to her.

Rosie wasn’t surprised to find the house in darkness when she unlocked the door and walked into the kitchen. After all, she had known that her mother was going out and she was hardly likely to be back so early. She closed the door and turned on the light.

The kitchen was cold and damp, making her shiver. She was just reaching for the kettle, intending to fill it so that she could make herself a cup of cocoa, when she heard a noise coming from the front room. It gave her such a shock that she almost dropped the kettle.

‘Mum,’ she called out, nervously, ‘is that you?’ Putting down the kettle, she went into the hallway and tentatively opened the front room door. The only light in the room was the glow from the small electric fire, but it was enough for Rosie to see its two occupants – her mother, who was struggling to sit up on the sofa, and a man who was hurriedly pulling on his pants.

Rosie was so shocked that she could only stand in the doorway staring at them, unable to move. Her mother had jumped up off the sofa and was saying something to the man, whom Rosie didn’t recognise. A cold sweat of revulsion and angry disbelief engulfed her, followed by a sickness that gripped her stomach. Unable to say or do anything, she stumbled back into the kitchen, where she sank down onto one of the hard wooden chairs. Her
whole body was overcome with shock, whilst her teeth chattered together and she shivered violently. She heard the front door open and then swiftly close, and then her mother came into the kitchen. Rosie stared numbly at her.

‘Why have you come back so early? You told me you were going to the Grafton, and you never get back from there until after eleven,’ Christine burst out angrily, as though she were the one at fault. ‘You’ve done it deliberately, haven’t you, so that you could catch me out? Someone’s told you, haven’t they? I bet it was that old gossip Mabel from number 78; she saw me with Dennis last week, and I could see then what she was thinking—’

‘No one told me anything,’ Rosie stopped her, unable to endure hearing any more. ‘How could you?’ she demanded, white-faced. She could hardly bring herself to speak, she felt so outraged and in despair. ‘How could you do that, Mum? When Dad finds out—’

‘Well, he won’t find out, will he, unless you go running telling tales to him?’

Rosie looked at her. How could her mother do this to her gentle kind father? How could she betray him and their twenty years of marriage like this?

‘Rosie, promise me you won’t say anything about this to your dad.’ The anger had gone out of her mother’s voice now, to be replaced by anxiety and pleading. ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen.’

‘Then why did you let it? Why, Mum, why? How could you do such a thing? Poor Dad…’

Christine’s face tightened. ‘Oh, that’s right, you go and take his side. I might have known you would.’ Her mother had started to cry now, her voice rising, as she protested accusingly, ‘It’s all right for you, Rosie. You’re young yet and you don’t know how cruel life can be, or what it’s like being tied to a man who—’