Gracie's Sin (33 page)

Not surprisingly, Lena was the first to object. ‘But it’s a
proper
holiday we need, not another project, or training camp. I, for one, am quite worn out.’

‘I’m sure you are love but, as I say, ‘our boys’ can’t have a proper holiday, can they? We can’t ask the bloody Germans to stop dropping bombs so you can pop off to Blackpool or Brighton or whatever. Nor ask the miners to stop digging for coal so we don’t have to cut any more pitprops. You’ll survive, girl, as you must. After all...’

‘There is a war on,’ they all chorused together.

Rose pulled a face. ‘I can see Lou’s going to get even bossier now she’s officially in charge.’

‘Nay, that’s not fair,’ Lou protested. ‘If I were that side out, you wouldn’t all be sitting here, would you, enjoying this tea I’ve bought for you all. Though what we need now is to walk it off. So come on, finish your cuppa, and we’ll just have a gentle ramble up Dunmail Raise before cycling home again.’

Refusing to take no for an answer, Lou, in her new status of forewoman, led them purposefully up a quiet byroad to Easedale, then, skirting the hump of Helm Crag proceeded to Gill Foot and along a track which led them to the vale of Greenburn. Turning left by a pair of cottages, they made their way across the smooth southern ridge of Steel Fell, passing a pillbox put there in case of an invasion which they all hoped would never come. The sun shone with only a streak of pink cloud to mar the blue, the day being hazy with heat, and in no time at all they were all breathless and sweating with the exertion.

‘How long does this track go on for? I shall need another cup of tea after this,’ Lena groaned, ostentatiously nursing a supposed stitch in her side. Since she was the tallest, and had the longest legs of them all, nobody took any notice.

‘Not much further,’ Lou cheerily responded. And as they could now clearly see Dunmail Raise smoothly rearing up before them, it encouraged even Lena to walk a little faster.

‘We must be gluttons for punishment,’ Jeannie groaned, as they collapsed flat on to their backs on the summit to catch their breath.

Lena sat gazing at the awesome majesty of the view, the panorama of the Lake District stretching out before her like a huge green map. Even the grazing sheep lay about, too lethargic to graze in the summer heat. She hugged her knees to her chest with delight. ‘Isn’t this marvellous? Smell the grass. Look at the folds of those mountains. Oh, I just love being outdoors all the time. I could never work inside again. Never.’

Everyone looked up at her in astonishment. Lou said, ‘By heck, Lena love, are you feeling all right?’

‘Better than I’ve ever felt in my life. Oh, I know I find the work physically hard and enjoy the odd moan, but I love being here with you lot. When I think how I used to spend ten hours a day working in a shop, from dawn to dusk, never seeing a scrap of daylight, I still pinch myself at times to think how free I am now to enjoy all this beauty and fresh air.’

There were murmurs of agreement, and much chatter about how life had changed for them all. But when the talk moved on to what they hoped to do after the war, Gracie couldn’t bear to listen. It all seemed frighteningly impossible, so painfully hopeless. Where would Karl be then? Sent back to Germany? Perhaps they would never have the chance to be together. She got hastily to her feet.

‘Come on, you lot. It’s getting late. We should be making tracks.’

But no one really wanted to go home. Everyone was enjoying the day out too much. Jeannie suggested they take a swim to cool off and, as one, they scrambled to their feet and set off for the lake like giggling schoolgirls.

Dusk was falling, the light over Rydal Water deepening to a deep cobalt blue, and the sound of crickets loud in the stillness of a warm summer evening. They’d lit a small fire to warm themselves after their swim and they were all laughing and chattering, sunkissed faces glowing from the heat of the fire.

‘We’re like the witches of Macbeth, all sitting around in the moonlight, chanting our wee spells. All we need is a cauldron, and for Banquo’s ghost to appear out of the bushes.’

They all heard it, a rustling of leaves and branches just beyond the circle of light cast by the fire. ‘What was that?’

‘It must be Lou, playing a joke,’ Gracie said, anxious to keep everyone calm.

‘Wrong.’ Lou said at her elbow. ‘I’m right here beside you.’

Rose said, ‘Everyone’s here. Oh lord, now I’m scared.’

A twig snapped, a branch creaked and then a shadowy figure stepped forward into the clearing. As one, the girls screamed. The sound seemed to scare their intruder every bit as much as it did themselves.

‘Christ, don’t do that. You frightened the life out of me. Sorry! But thank heaven that I’ve found you all at last. I’ve been looking for you for hours, then I spotted your bikes on the grass verge.’ It was Adam.

They all stared at him in utter disbelief, then everyone started laughing, teasing and shoving each other, saying they hadn’t really been scared at all, only pretending. They seemed to think the whole thing ecstatically funny, an absolute hoot, save for Adam, who remained where he was in the shadows, as if uncertain what to do next. He was looking over towards Lou and Gracie who were now clinging on to each other, helpless with laughter.

Wiping tears of joy from her eyes, Lou said, ‘You should go on the stage Adam. You’d do well as Banquo’s ghost, you really would. You certainly scared the pants off us.’

‘Lou, I’m sorry.’

‘Stop saying that. We forgive you. Sit down and have a cup of tea.’

Gracie was examining his expression with more sober attention. ‘What is it Adam? What are you sorry about, exactly?’

Then he held something out towards Lou. It was a telegram. The scream which went up this time, chilled them all to the bones.

Gordon’s ship had been listed as missing. Whether it had been sunk or was simply hit and limping home, nobody had any idea at this stage. Lou left with Adam that very night. He drove her straight to Ulverston railway station where she caught the next train to Liverpool. Gordon’s mother was in Liverpool and wanted Lou with her, for support.

‘I’m sure he’ll come home safe and sound in the end,’ Adam said, handing up her overnight bag and closing the carriage door.

Lou didn’t answer. Something had happened to her throat and not a sound would come out of it. A shout went up, a whistle blew, the train jerked, rattling all the carriages together as it puffed out great clouds of steam, just as that other train had done, so long ago. A lifetime ago. Gordon’s face was emerging out of the smoke. Lou could see him waving from the platform, shouting something to her.

No, it couldn’t be Gordon. Gordon was still at sea. It was Adam. She really must close her eyes for a moment and get some sleep. Maybe then she could sort out these jumbled thoughts into some sort of order in her head. Make sense of them. The carriage was packed but Lou found a gap and wedged herself between a woman with a baby on her knee, and a sleeping sailor, his mouth gaping open in a loud snore. Poor lad must be exhausted to sleep through all this din. Gordon must be pretty exhausted too, she thought, after all these months at sea. He’d be glad to be home again. Lou closed her eyes, certain that when she woke, and found his mum waiting for her on Lime Street Station, they’d dash over to the Pool and find Gordon’s ship would already have docked.

Later that Sunday afternoon Rose was expecting a visitor, one for whom she had some rather special news. She felt quite happy about it, even excited. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

As usual, he took her for a drive into the heart of the Lakes, found a quiet country inn and booked them in as Mr and Mrs Brown. It seemed to amuse him to use such an obvious name as subterfuge.

Rose held on to her secret until after they’d made love, nursing it as a delighted surprise which she meant to offer him as a treat, like dessert. As she spoke the words, she smiled softly, the all-knowing smile of a maturing woman on a face which still held the sweet innocence of youth.

He stared down at her where she lay, wild dark curls haloed about her lovely, childlike face, her lustrous skin gleaming like gold against the white sheets. Then he pushed himself away from her, a stunned dismay writ clear on his ruggedly handsome features. ‘Hey, you’re joking me, right?’

Rose blinked, and a small frown blurred her smooth brow. ‘You are pleased, aren’t you? I mean, you don’t mind, do you Josh?’ A worm of uncertainty unfurled in her stomach and, as she reached out to smooth a hand over his cheek, he jerked his head away. Still she couldn’t quite believe he was truly angry. ‘I know it’s a bit of a shock at first, but these things happen all the time, and it’s not as if we weren’t planning to get married anyway.’

‘Married?’ Even Rose couldn’t be unaware of the surprise in his tone.

She swallowed the painful constriction which had come into her throat and ploughed on, remorselessly optimistic. ‘You’ve said over and over how much I’ll enjoy Canada. Maybe I could go out there now, stay with your parents or some other relatives till the war’s over. Not that I mind, if it isn’t possible yet for me to go. I can wait for you here. At least I’ll have something of you when you have to go overseas again.’ She knew she was babbling, but didn’t seem able to stop.

He flung back the sheets and, leaping from the bed, began to pace about the room. He looked so strong and athletic in his white shorts Rose felt her stomach clench with fresh need. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. ‘Josh?’

He was flapping his hands at her, as if he’d really like to waft her away and make her vanish. ‘Hey, I never expected you to find yourself up the duff. I thought you used something, a sponge, a douche. God, I don’t know.
Something!
Hell, why didn’t I use a rubber johnny? I must’ve been mad. Bewitched. All that talk about you liking Canada. Sure, anybody would love Canada. It’s a great country. But marriage? Naw, I don’t recall saying anything on that subject, Hon.’

Rose became very still, then slowly sat up in the bed so that she could give better attention to his puzzling response. Josh didn’t seem to understand. She told him, quite calmly, that there really was no need to panic, that she would be perfectly all right. ‘I’m not in the least concerned, and there’s no reason why you should be either.’

He stood by the window, his manly body, which she loved so much, appropriately framed against the majesty of mountains beyond. As she smiled at him, he seemed to sag with relief. ‘Hell, I’m sure glad you’re gonna take this attitude. For a minute, you had me real worried. Marriage just ain’t gonna happen, Hon. It can’t.’ He came and sat beside her, stroking her arms, her shoulders, her breast, as he carefully explained. But the words didn’t make sense. Rose was forced to ask him to repeat them, to make sure that she’d heard correctly.

He playfully tweaked her nose. ‘Hey, you know I
would
marry you, if I
could
. You and me have had fun, right? I love you, sweetheart. You’re a doll. But back home, I gotta wife already, OK? And three kids. So there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, Hon, not with the best will in the world.’

Summer was fading and September was almost upon them but Rose told no one. The shame was too enormous. Nor did she cry or feel sorry for herself. She longed to hate Josh but couldn’t seem able to even manage that. She’d fallen in love. Where was the sin in that? Josh Wilton just happened to be unavailable. She’d stupidly assumed he was, without properly checking. It was all abundantly clear to her now that no promise of marriage had actually been made. She’d simply taken it for granted, in her youthful naivety, that it would naturally follow their lovemaking. How stupid can you get!

Sometimes Rose hated being so young. Why couldn’t one be born old and wise at birth, and then grow into youth when one was ready for it. That would be much more sensible, and so much less painful.

She’d held on to her pride at least. She hadn’t shouted, or screamed, or cried. She’d remained amazingly calm, simply got up, dressed and insisted that he take her home right away, which he’d gladly done. He drove quickly back along the lanes to the Eagle’s Head as if he couldn’t wait to be rid of her. They'd parted as friends, at least on the surface. All the way home Josh had continued to be as full of good cheer and bonhomie as he normally was. He’d offered her money, which Rose had accepted. She was no fool, she told herself. Not entirely, anyway. She would need cash when the baby came and, in her estimation, taking money from him wouldn’t in any way threaten her independence.

But then he’d said, ‘You do what you think best.’

‘Are you suggesting that I use this money to get rid of it?’

‘Use it however you like, Hon.’

‘But that’s what you’d prefer?’

‘Hey! Not my decision. I’ll send you some more, soon as I can. You keep in touch, OK?’

Rose had managed to nod, even gave him the smallest glimmer of a smile as he’d jumped back into his jeep, and, with a screech of tyres, driven off up the lane and vanished in a cloud of dust. She very much doubted that she’d ever see or hear from him again.

In that moment, Rose realised that her calmness arose from the fact that she wasn’t in the least surprised by the way he’d reacted. It was almost as if she’d been half expecting this to happen; as if she’d known all along that something always did go wrong for her. First her parents dying, just when she needed them most, then Eddie bullying her and telling her how he wasn’t really her brother at all. Her precious Tizz being killed and, last and by no means least, the assault by Agnes, whom she’d admittedly found slightly odd, but automatically trusted because she was a woman.