Gracie's Sin (34 page)

But I can cope, she told herself. I shall survive this problem, as I did all the rest. No matter what. She’d trusted too many people in the past, all of whom had let her down one way or another. Hadn’t she resolved to be utterly ruthless; to think only of herself? She should never have been so foolish as to fall in love, or trust in anyone, ever again. She really must learn to protect herself more, to use people to her own advantage as people had used her, then she would be safe. And so would her child.

Having settled the matter in her mind to her own satisfaction, for the moment at least, and feeling rather at a loose end, she decided to call upon Gracie and see if she had any news of Lou. They could go for a walk together, or sit and chat in the garden. Anything would be better than sitting alone with all these private worries weighing her down. She knew the cottage where they lived, a mile or two from the village, although she’d never, so far, called. This lovely summer evening seemed as good a time as any and the walk might do her good.

As was the custom in these parts, she went around to the back door of Beech Tree Cottage, knocked and without waiting to be invited, walked straight in. She was surprised to find the kitchen occupied, not by Irma, nor by Gracie but by a half naked man.

‘Gosh. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. I should’ve waited.’ But she didn’t retreat. She watched with fascinated interest as Adam reached for the towel and began to rub it down over his face and chest. Rose closed the door behind her and flickered her eyelashes provocatively up at him. She really couldn’t resist flirting, and he was quite dishy. ‘Though I don’t mind, if you don’t.’

Laughing, he shrugged into a shirt. ‘Sorry, I was having a good scrub in the tin bath. I’ve seen you around. It’s so hot and dusty, it’s a real nuisance not being allowed to bathe more than once a week.’

‘And no more than two inches, don’t forget.’ Rose said, her gaze roaming brazenly over him.

‘What good is two inches to anyone? Government regulations are fine for those who work in offices but for those of us who do physical labour, or work on the land, it’s a nightmare, don’t you find? I never feel clean.’

‘You look fine to me.’ Rose was taking in the glistening beauty of his muscled torso and imagining how much more entrancing it would have been if she’d interrupted him lathering himself in that ancient tin bath. Now that might have been very interesting indeed. In her misery, it hadn’t occurred to her that she might fancy other men besides Josh. Now, out of the blue, it did. What’s more, she could tell, by the way he was looking at her, that he really found her quite attractive. Rose suddenly saw that life might not be too awful after all. That even if Josh did intend to stay married to his dull wife in Canada, there might be other possibilities worth exploring. One which could be adapted to her advantage.

There was a short silence, then Adam said, ‘You’re one of Lou’s squad, aren’t you? Were you wanting Gracie? She’s out with Mam. They’ve taken some salvage over to the parish hall. You know the sort of thing, battered saucepans, kettles, tin cans and jelly moulds. If you’ve anything metal, Mam’ll have it off you. They’ll be back soon, I expect.’ He paused, as if to catch his breath. ‘Assuming she doesn’t send Gracie off to pick rosehips or blackberries for more jam. For the vitamin C you know.’ He laughed. ‘You never can tell what scheme my mam has in hand.’

They both laughed and the tension between them lightened a little. Adam had buttoned up his shirt, now he turned around so that he could tuck it in his trousers, then swung quickly back again with a small smile. Rose grinned. ‘I can always call again.’ Yet she didn’t move. She simply stood there, gazing boldly up at him, waiting.

Adam cleared his throat somewhat noisily, and then surprised himself by saying, ‘I was about to make myself a bit of supper. Only spam fritters, I’m afraid, but I’m rather partial to them. Would you care to join me?’

‘I adore spam fritters.’ Rose had never eaten them in her life.

‘Great!’

They worked together on the dish, Rose slicing the spam nice and thinly, Adam mixing the flour and water into a thick batter, tossing in a bit of powdered egg for extra flavour. In no time they were laughing and joking together, flicking flour off Rose’s nose and splattering globules of batter all over Irma’s clean cooker. Rose cut the bread and spread it sparingly with margarine. Then she searched out a freshly laundered tablecloth and laid the table by the window of the tiny living room, brewed a pot of tea and even brought a few Michaelmas daisies out of the garden to put in a jar as a table decoration. And all the while, Adam set her mouth watering from the delicious aroma of frying fritters, hissing and spitting in the pan.

They sat facing each other, a shaft of early evening sunshine lighting Adam’s fair hair, already bleached by the sun, to a pale gold. Rose knew that he’d been seeing Gracie, taking her out to the pictures and fancied her rotten. But all was fair in love and war. Wasn’t that what they said? You had to watch out for number one in this world. Hadn’t she learned that much at least? She gazed upon him for a long moment, fork poised, studying the perfection of his profile, the way his light brown curls fell forward over his brow, before sliding the food thoughtfully into her mouth. ‘This is delicious. I’ve never tasted anything quite so good.’

Adam returned her gaze, studying her piquant beauty as he wiped a dribble of fat from her full soft mouth with the heel of his thumb. He smiled. ‘My pleasure.’

They talked little as they ate, but when every plate was empty they both sank back with contented sighs, feeling bloated and replete. ‘I shall never be hungry again,’ Rose intoned, imitating Vivien Leigh’s southern drawl from
Gone With the Wind
, and they both burst out laughing.

‘I’ve seen you around, from a distance, of course. But why have we never met properly before?’ Adam asked, his gaze warm and admiring.

‘I don’t know. Why haven’t we?’

He reached for her hand and Rose let him clasp it in his own. His grasp was firm and strong, which she rather liked. She gave him the other and he pulled her gently towards him across the table.

The kitchen door burst open and Irma breezed in, basket dangling on her plump arm. ‘Hello love, I’m home. What do you think Mrs ...’ She stopped short, taking in the scene in one swift, appraising glance. Rose, so comfortably ensconced at the table; her best Irish linen cloth, upon which Irma had personally embroidered every stitch, lying stained with crumbs and spotted with fat beneath their joined hands. Her son’s riveted gaze remained fixed upon that little madam’s face. Irma could tell, by the brazen way in which she returned the poor boy’s besotted glances, that the chit was no better than she should be. A brazen hussy if ever there was one.

Unable to disguise the expression of startled disapproval which she knew to be compressing her mouth and pinking her rouged cheeks to a deeper madder, Irma floundered uncomfortably for something sensible to say which wouldn’t alarm Adam, or put him on the defensive. Young men could be so tricky. The last thing she must do was to be openly critical, or he’d start to champion the lass. ‘Oh,’ she said, adopting a pseudo pleasant tone. Her social voice, as Adam termed it. ‘I didn’t realise we had company.’

‘This is Rose.’

‘Ah yes, I’ve heard all about Rose. One of the Timber Girls who works with our lodgers, Gracie and Lou. Isn’t that right?’

‘That’s right. We’re old friends. I knew them back in Cornwall.’ Rose somehow felt the need to make this claim, perhaps due to the hostility she read so plainly in Irma’s gaze, which she couldn’t quite comprehend. ‘I hope it was all to the good, whatever it was they told you about me. A girl’s got to watch her reputation these days.’ She gave a bright little laugh, then winked at Adam.

Irma acknowledged the gesture as confirmation of her worst fears.

A small silence followed, during which Adam and Rose didn’t move from their places at the table, while Irma stood stolidly beside them, saying nothing but glaring with such astonishing severity that even Rose could take no more.

‘I'd best be off. See if I can find them.’ She jumped up and reached for her cardigan which she’d slung over a chair. Adam got there before her to drape it tenderly about her shoulders.

‘I’ll walk you to the door.’

‘I’m sure she can find her own way out.’ Irma tartly remarked. She’d still made no effort to unpin her hat, or put down the loaded basket. Adam took it from her. Set it carefully on the table.

‘I’m sure she can, but I’ll walk with her anyway. In fact, I might walk along to the village with her. A breath of fresh air would do me good after all that food.’

‘I don’t think so, son. I was wanting you to do a job or two for me.’

He hesitated. ‘Can’t it wait? I won’t be long. An hour or so at most.’

Irma flopped down into her chair with a heavy sigh. ‘Oh well, if you’ve no time to spare for your weary old mam, I understand. It was only that I’ve all this stuff to collect and sort out, but don’t worry. I shouldn’t imagine there’s anything too heavy for me to carry. I can manage.’

‘But does it have to be done right now? Tonight? I mean, it isn’t being collected tomorrow, is it?’

‘Huh! Just like a man to think it can all be done at the last minute. Salvage takes time to sort through, you know. And all the rubbish they give you, well, it makes for a lot of work.’ Irma sighed again, and with a plump hand that noticeably trembled with fatigue, began to unpin her hat.

Adam’s face held the expression of a man cornered. Turning to Rose, he offered his heartfelt apologies with a regretful sigh. ‘Sorry. Some other time?’

‘Sure. Good night all.’ Determined not to react to Irma’s self-satisfied smile of triumph, Rose twirled on her heel, a positive swagger to her walk as she made her way down the garden path. But despite outward appearances, inwardly she was fuming, furious that he hadn’t stood up to his mother’s demands. But what could she expect? Adam was still living under the woman’s roof, which wouldn’t always be the case.

 
‘You will call again?’ he asked, as he held open the garden gate for her. ‘Or we could go out some time. To the pictures maybe. I like going to the pictures.’

‘If you were to ask me,’ she said, with an enticing smile. ‘And if I’m free,’ thereby giving the impression that she was hugely popular so he’d better look sharp about it.

‘Right,’ Adam said, his usual attack of shyness suddenly closing in upon him as he realised how beautiful she was, and what little hope he had of catching her, of catching any woman. ‘Right then!’

Rose strolled away with a genuine smile on her face, because she’d actually enjoyed herself. She’d even eaten a decent meal for once without feeling the need to throw up afterwards. And from what she could see at first acquaintance, Adam was really rather sweet, an ideal candidate for what she had in mind, should the need arise.

While Lou was away, all the girls agreed that Gracie should take her place. They’d grown used to someone being in charge and telling them what to do, and were happy to continue in that fashion. ‘You’re the best one to act as deputy,’ Jeannie had said; tears in her soft brown eyes. ‘Till our lively Lou returns.’

A small silence had fallen upon them all. Would she still be the same lively old Lou when she did return? Or would everything be different? Gracie decided there was little point in worrying about that until it happened.

‘Let’s get back to work,’ she said, gritting her teeth, and so they did, if not exactly in high spirits, at least as a united group.

One morning, in early September, they were joined by a small detail of prisoners to help with the peeling of bark from the poles and general labouring. Erich and Karl were amongst them. Gracie’s heart leaped at sight of him but then she felt compelled to keep her gaze averted, in case anyone should read the naked love in her eyes.

‘We need to talk,’ he whispered, as he began to slice off a section of the bark. Gracie’s hand was shaking so much she could hardly use the billhook properly.

‘Not here. It isn’t safe.’

She deliberately walked away from him, ostensibly to check on whether Lena had ordered the lorry which they needed to transport the pitprops to the station.

‘It’ll be here shortly,’ she agreed, rather tetchily. ‘Don’t nag.’

Gracie checked on Rose, lingered a little chatting to Jeannie but then Alf shouted across to her, scolding her for wasting time before sending her back to the sawhorse, and to Karl. As the morning wore on she almost wished Alf hadn’t set them to working together. It was worse to be so close to him and yet have to maintain an air of indifference. It was a different guard this time, but he soon struck up a friendship with Alf, and evidently considered his detail of charges to be trustworthy. In a way this made it easier for Gracie and Karl to talk, yet somehow a thousand times more difficult, as the smallest mistake, the merest glance, could so easily arouse suspicion.

‘It’s Erich. He has been called in front of the
Altestenrat
.’

Gracie glanced over to where Erich was working with Alf. But as no one seemed to be paying herself and Karl any undue attention, she said, ‘What on earth is that?’

‘It is a Counsel. Like a court, run by the highest ranking German officers in the camp.’ He was speaking quickly now, rushing the words out under his breath although, watching him, anyone would think he simply had his head down and was working hard, peeling away the bark. ‘They have made his life unbearable. They say he has anti-Nazi views. Erich has protested but they do not believe him. They bully him, play tricks on him. Call him a coward. They say he must go.’