‘Please don’t go!’
And then a sharp reprimand in German from the guard who, having wiped the last crumb of cheese pasty onto his sleeve, belatedly returned to his neglected duties.
Gracie didn’t stop running until she gained the sanctity of her room, where she slammed shut the door and leaned back against it. It was some long moments before her heart slowed its beat sufficient for her to breathe normally again.
Rose made no mention to anyone about her stay on the Sullivan’s farm, or what had occurred there. That was something best forgotten. She felt as if she’d fought her own private war, never mind the one raging world wide. First against Eddie’s bullying, and then having to deal with Agnes’s vicious attack. Even now, months later, she would start to shake whenever she thought of that woman’s hands clawing at her.
It had crossed her mind to wonder what Maurice’s reaction would have been when he went back into the kitchen that night and found his wife. Was she dead? Rose hadn’t hung around long enough to find out. She’d worried about this for quite a while but not any more. Maurice had tried to warn her, and he could easily dispose of the body on his farm, had probably already done so. Who would be curious about one old woman? People went missing all the time in a war. The police would have come to arrest her by now if they’d found her. And even if they did, how could they blame her? Agnes had attacked
her
. If she hadn’t, it wouldn’t have been necessary to hit her so hard with the poker. It was all her own fault. Rose didn’t believe, for one minute, that she was in any way responsible. Any more than she was responsible for Eddie being shut up in the cellar.
But she’d discovered two things as a result of the various traumas she’d had to deal with these last months. That she was a far stronger person than she’d realised, and that she could look after herself. Rose had no intention of ever again being thought weak, or stupid. She absolutely refused to be a victim.
She’d found the recruiting office, hadn’t she? Joined the Timber Corps and successfully completed her training in Thetford. She was reunited with her friends and Rose was determined that from now on, her life would go from strength to strength. She was free at last, and meant to have some fun. She was still young after all, not quite eighteen.
‘Not going out again?’ Jeannie asked, as she watched Rose apply lipstick in front of the dressing table mirror they shared. Who’s the lucky blighter this time? Awch, not that
terrible
old Geordie you took up with in the bar parlour the other night?’ She rolled her rrr’s with such emphasis the word somehow sounded far worse. Rose only pouted her lips, applied a second coat of scarlet lipstick and lifted one shoulder, indicative of her free-and-easy approach to life these days.
‘I simply can’t stand being stuck in this cramped little bedroom the whole time. So what if I do like to dress up a bit and sit downstairs in the bar, its surely better than looking as if I’ve just been dragged through the proverbial hedge backwards.’
‘You mean as we do?’ Lena complained, sounding wounded. ‘Aw, that’s not fair Rose. We’re too exhausted to bother about paint and powder. Anyway, what chance is there of our having enough hot water for us all to get ourselves properly cleaned up every night? None at all.’
Rose fluffed up her hair then lifted her skirts to reveal long, smoothly golden legs. ‘Which of you has the steadiest hand tonight then?’
‘Awch, for goodness sake, where’s the point in drawing lines up yer legs when yer only going to be sitting doon all night,’ Jeannie protested. ‘Who’d notice?’
‘Depends who’s there. You never know, I might meet someone exciting one of these nights.’
‘Fat chance.’
'OK. Forget it. I’ll do it myself.’ Taking an eyebrow pencil, Rose twisted round and started to draw a line from her heel up the calf of her leg. Her hand quavered slightly and the line wove perilously off course.
‘Gi’e it to me lassie. The way you’re managing, it’d look like a drunken snail after a night on the razzle.’
The imitation stocking seams in place, a final dab of powder on her nose and Rose declared herself ready. ‘Are you coming, or not?’ When she got no response, beyond a shrug from Lena and a sound rather like ‘Pschaw,’ from Jeannie, she told them that if they wanted to behave like old women they were welcome, and flounced downstairs to ‘test out the talent’, as Lou would say.
She’d grown fond of trying out Lou’s phrases, though sadly, from Rose, they didn’t carry quite the same note of teasing good humour. Rose’s version sounded far more of a openly sexual, provocative challenge.
Tonight, she soon felt nothing but gratitude for the fact that her room mates had refused to accompany her, for she did indeed spot some new talent. An airman, seated at the bar. Rose sauntered right over, climbed on to the bar stool next to his, crossed those wonderful legs and asked if he’d care to buy her a drink.
He took one look and choked on his beer. ‘Sure. Happy to. Josh Wilton’s the name.’ As they sat together in a corner by the fire, he explained how he was stationed with a crew at Silloth and had come down to the Lakes for a few days break. ‘Not having any family over here, I have to take my leave where I can.’
‘And what family do you have back home, Mr Wilton?’
‘Hey, call me Josh. We don’t have to be too formal, do we?’
From the start Rose was captivated by Josh’s wide, teasing smile, his beautiful white teeth and witty remarks. Being a Canadian, he seemed taller, smarter, better looking and far more romantic and cosmopolitan than any of the village lads she’d seen thus far. He was also more sincere than the yanks she’d met while on training in Norfolk, who’d been over-opinionated and thought only of themselves.
He called her ‘a little honey’ and asked if he could see her again.
The next day Rose pretended to be too sick to work and lay groaning in her bed, impatient for Jeannie and Lena to leave while they both fussed over her, offering various pieces of advice and lists of instructions as to what she should do to get better. By seven-thirty they had gone. By ten o’clock she was dressed in grey slacks and a summer blue sweater, seated beside Josh in his jeep and careering along the empty lanes. He took her to lunch, then to a movie, as he called it. After that, he drove still further north through Borrowdale where they walked, hand in hand, savouring the utter silence. The summer day was hot and sunny, cooled by a gentle breeze on the high fells above Buttermere. The craggy spines glinting like silver along the ridges, broken by darker patches of heather and trees.
He somehow managed to find a quiet little inn where no one seemed to have heard of a war, let alone coupons. They ate spicy Cumberland sausage by a roaring log fire, washed down by several glasses of frothy beer. It was the most wonderful day of Rosie’s life.
And Josh proved to be great company. He talked about life back home in Canada, about how much he missed it and how Rose would just love living out there. Perhaps this was why she knew that she could trust him, could believe everything he told her, because he was already making plans, and she was very much a part of them.
‘You know I’ve been waiting for a girl like you all my life. You’re a real honey.’
Rose loved it when he called her Hon, or Honey.
He said it would be his pet name for her from now on. Nobody had said such things to her before. When he kissed her, she went weak with longing, burning with need just as if she had a raging thirst which demanded to be quenched. So when he suggested that maybe they should stay the night, as he’d drunk rather more than he’d intended and wasn’t really safe to drive back along those narrow roads just yet, Rose simply looked at his gorgeously beseeching, little boy smile and thought, why not?
There was a war on after all. Every film she’d seen, every newspaper she picked up seemed to be filled with stories of young people like themselves falling instantly and passionately in love, many of them getting married within days of meeting. Look at Lou. She’d met and married her Gordon within a week, and they were blissfully happy. There was absolutely no reason why it couldn’t happen for her too, and why the hell not? Who knew what could happen tomorrow? He might be killed. They might both be killed. What did she have to lose, for God’s sake? What had being a goody-goody all her life ever achieved? Nothing but bullying, jealousy, resentment and abuse. Rose fervently believed that you had to snatch at happiness while you could, and look after number one.
Josh was her chance of happiness. At last. If he wanted to make love to her, didn’t that just prove how very important she was to him, how much he loved her?
It would also prove that she was a proper woman, no longer an abused child. She would finally be able to banish all the haunting pain of her past.
Their love making had been every bit as exciting and thrilling as she’d hoped. Lying next to him in bed as he slept contentedly beside her, she couldn’t resist kissing and teasing him into wakefulness again. She wanted his hands in her hair, smoothing her naked flesh, his lips upon hers. The very thought made her ache with fresh desire. When he didn’t immediately respond, she straddled him, nipping at his mouth with her sharp white teeth, smiling to herself as she heard him groan.
‘You little witch!’
He rolled her over, pinning her down with one hand clamping both her wrists against the pillow, nudging open her legs with his knee although she needed no such persuasion. Rose arched her body and lifting herself to him, she wrapped her long golden limbs about his thick, strong body so she could hold him close. The intensity of their passion made her oblivious to everything but the sensations he was stirring within her. When, in the exultation of the moment he finally released her hands, she grasped at his shoulders, holding him fast, clawing at his back in her determination to keep him inside her. She gave him all of herself with a sensuality which was both startling and wondrous. Rose felt as if she had found someone who truly loved her. As if to prove it, before they finally got ready to leave around lunch time, she urged him to make love to her yet again, and once more she gave herself to him unstintingly.
Later that day, his leave over, Josh dropped her off at the Eagle’s Head with promises that he’d be back. He certainly wouldn’t forget her, he assured her. He’d come to see her just as soon as he could. ‘The minute I get another pass, Hon, I’ll borrow the old jalopy and come tearing right back to you.’
‘You’ll write.’
‘Every day.’ He kissed her long and hard with another of his ravenous kisses. ‘God, I could eat you all up. You bring me out in goose bumps just to look at you.’
Rose chuckled softly, revelling in this heady sensation of power. It was such a new, and unexpectedly exciting emotion. She asked for nothing more.
‘That’s the last you’ll see of him,’ Jeannie warned, when she’d heard a carefully edited version of events.
Lou told Rose she was a damned fool, and Gracie was even more condemning. ‘I do hope you didn’t do anything that you might regret, Rose.’
Annoyed by her friends’ negative attitude and by the anxious query in Gracie’s compassionate gaze, Rose flounced into a chair to sit in sulky silence. She crossed her legs, her silk stockings, generously provided by Josh, giving off a sensuous sort of squeak. Rose smiled at the memory of Josh enjoying putting them on for her, and then taking them off again. ‘God, what a load of puritans you all are. Can’t a girl have a bit of fun in her life for once?’
‘It’s only your welfare we’re concerned about,’ Gracie said.
‘I can take care of myself, thanks very much. I’ve had loads of practice.’
On the Wednesday morning she triumphantly wafted a letter before them all. ‘Eat your hearts out, girls. Listen to this. ‘
Never had such a great time in all my life. Hope you’re OK Honey.
.. Ooh, better not read that bit, it’s private. Here you are, what about this?
Hope to see again in the not too distant future. Keep yourself ready for action
.’
‘Aye, but ready for what sort of action?’ Jeannie wanted to know. ‘He’s not taking advantage of you, is he,
Honey
?’
‘
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!
If all you can think to do is criticise, I'd rather not discuss it, thanks very much.’ Rose stalked away, chin held high. Later, she secreted the letter under her pillow and each night as she snuggled down in bed, she would draw it out to read it. It was just as well that it gave her so much pleasure, for it would be many weeks before she got another.
Each day while Erich Müller assisted Adam to earth up the potatoes, Karl continued to work with Gracie on the hedge. The summer days were long and hot, the work strenuous and yet, despite few words being exchanged between them, their relationship grew and strengthened. As they cut and interlaced the branches, it was as if they wove their love into each strand.
In theory Gracie wasn’t allowed to go too near him, needing approval from the guard if she needed to check that he was doing the job correctly. Yet they seemed able to communicate by a lingering glance, the briefest brushing of fingertips. Sometimes, Gracie would find a note tucked into the pocket or sleeve of the sweater she’d left lying around for this very purpose. These began, innocently enough, by thanking her for her kindness, progressing to more complex notes, telling how he hoped he could work with her tomorrow and the next day, and the one after that; how he would miss her when this task was completed. Finally he spoke openly of his affection for her, of how he dreamed of her every night and couldn’t wait to see her smiling face each morning. Gracie kept every one, secreting them away in her handkerchief box, only bringing them out to read when Lou and the others were busy elsewhere. This was her private world. Her terrible secret. One she dare not share with anyone, not even her closest friends.