Rosie Goes to War (9 page)

Yeah, right. I must have a long talk with May about her taste in boys.

Everyone is back at their machines when we get inside. I sit down and concentrate on not getting my fingers caught under the needle. Apart from another tea break and a quick trip to the (thankfully indoor) loo, I spend the rest of the day sewing seam after seam after seam. I've got to admit, by the end of our shift I'm feeling pretty bored. I mean, it's hardly rocket science, is it? But I don't want to let myself think about it right now. I'd rather go mad with boredom than go seriously insane trying to work out why I'm here and how the hell I can get home. I do think about that girl and her mum for a bit, I can't help it. I hope they find somewhere to go and don't end up at that centre the old woman was so scared of.

That guy Harry was funny. Really fancied himself. But he's not fit like Simon. Now there's a guy I'd dance with any day. For a minute I daydream about what it would feel like. Then I remember that the last time I saw him he was snogging my best friend and I nearly sew my finger to the khaki material. I've got to stop thinking about it. They're not worth it, and anyway, if I don't manage to get home I'll be dead before they do it … or I'll be really old like Gran and Great-aunt Eleanor. How weird would that be, to go and see them when I'm ninety-something. They wouldn't even recognise me. I'd just be some strange old woman freaking them out. I should turn up while they're watching a
Dr Who
episode with those freaky stone angels in. I'd frighten the life out of them. It would serve them right for betraying me like that.

Another near miss with the needle reminds me to concentrate on the job and not on things I can't do anything about at the moment.

Maybe tonight I'll find out how to get back to my old life and this will all seem like a dream.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Bin on right, grab two bits, put them together, needle down, foot down, another seam done. Needle up, cut the thread, chuck-it-in-the-bin-on-the-left. Bin on right, grab –

‘Oi, Queenie! You can stop now.'
– two bits
– what? I look up and Nelly is standing next to me.

‘It's time to go.'

‘Go where?' I ask.

‘Home. Our shift's over.'

Home. I wish I could. I really, really want to go home. I'm tired and my whole body aches from sitting in the same position all day. How do these women do it every day? I look around and realise that everyone's stopped work. I was so zoned out I didn't even notice. I'd just got this rhythm going and completely lost track of anything else. I'll probably be dreaming about it tonight.

I put the bits back in the bin and shut off the machine. Standing up is a problem as my knees seem to be locked in the sitting position, with my ‘driving' foot stuck at an angle. ‘Ow!' Nelly grabs me before I head-butt the over-sized reel of thread on the top of my machine.

‘Watch it. Hang onto me. I'll give you this much, Queenie, you're a grafter.' Nelly nods at the pile of finished seams I've done. ‘I never thought you'd last the day.'

‘Thanks,' I say. I'll accept her compliment, even though it's a bit back-handed. At least now she knows I'm not a wimp. ‘Is it normal for your whole body to lock up like this? I feel like I've been set in concrete.'

Nelly laughs, but not in a nasty way. I think I actually might have impressed her. ‘You'll be all right in a minute. You're just not used to it. Come on, the walk to the bus will sort you out.'

It's already dark when we leave the factory, and cold too. I do up my jacket, and start walking with Nelly.

Oh my God. Every step is agony. I end up hanging on Nelly's arm, hobbling along like an old lady.

‘Where's May?' I ask.

‘Probably at the bus stop already. If we don't get a move on we'll miss her.'

I'm a bit hurt she didn't wait for me, but Nelly doesn't seem bothered. Obviously, the sisters don't do everything together. They'd probably drive each other mad if they did. I noticed on our tea breaks they were talking to different girls. Still, I thought she'd wait for me on my first day. Anyway, she's there at the bus-stop – I can see her now we've turned the corner. And so is that guy Harry.

Nelly tuts. ‘What's she doing, talking to that useless so and so?'

‘We saw him at lunchtime,' I say.

She narrows her eyes and her lips go all thin. Looks like May's in trouble. I hope she's ready for it. Nelly doesn't say anything, but speeds up to reach them as the bus comes down the road. ‘Come on. I ain't leaving him alone with her.'

‘Ow! Hang on,' I say, nearly falling over when my stiff knees refuse to go any faster.

Nelly shows no mercy. ‘Stop whining and hurry up.' She drags me along, my gas mask box banging against my hip. I will definitely have a bruise there. We make it to the bus stop just in time.

‘All right, Nell?' says Harry, ‘Hallo, Queenie darlin''

Nelly ignores him, and I just nod. He steps back to let us get on the bus first, then follows us up the stairs. I can feel his beady eyes on my bum. If he touches me I'm going to kick him.

‘What you doing, slumming it round here?' says Nelly.

‘Just a bit of business.'

‘Monkey business, I expect. Ain't it about time you acted like a man and signed up?'

Harry's smile slipped. ‘I got a medical dispensation. On account of me bad lungs.' He coughs. Totally fake. What a loser.

I look in disbelief at the cigarette in his hand. Nelly sneers.

‘You're having a laugh,' she says. ‘There ain't nothing wrong with your lungs. It must've cost you a pretty penny to buy that bit of paper.'

‘Nelly, leave him alone,' says May.

Nelly shrugs and shuts up. I'm too tired to make conversation, so I sit here waiting for my body to seize up again now that I'm sitting down. But Nelly was right – the walk to the bus stop seems to have loosened me up and I feel OK. A bit achy, but I reckon I'll live.

May and Harry are sitting together. May's flirting like mad, ignoring the black looks Nelly is sending her. Harry is lapping it up, looking really cocky. I can't believe May fancies him. Does she really like that slicked-back hair and ridiculous-looking moustache? He takes a puff on his cigarette and I notice the yellow stains on his fingers. Ewww! That is soooo disgusting.

The ride back doesn't seem to take as long as the journey to work this morning. Harry follows us off the bus, his hand on May's shoulder.

‘So, we going to win this dance competition next week darlin'?' he asks May. But before she answers, Harry has to let go of her when his way is blocked by a tall soldier.

‘Watch where you're going, mate,' he snaps.

‘I know where I'm going. Not sure about you though.'

Harry looks annoyed, but gets out of the taller guy's way. Nelly smiles up at the soldier.

‘Hallo, Jock,' she says. ‘How's your nan?'

‘Fine thanks, Nell. All right, May? Queenie?'

I stare at the soldier as he gets on the bus. It's not till he smiles and waves as the bus pulls off that I realise it's the guy I bumped into this morning. I smile back. He really is quite fit.

‘I don't know who he thinks he is,' says Harry, straightening his tie. ‘Just 'cause he's got a flipping stripe on his arm he reckons he's got some balls now.'

‘Watch your mouth,' says Nell. ‘At least he's got the nerve to fight.'

‘He ain't doing no fighting,' he sneered. ‘He's having his tea round his nan's every night.'

Nelly looks like she's going to slap Harry, but May steps in. ‘Come on, leave it, all right?'

‘Just for you, doll. I'll see you tomorrow yeah?'

‘Yeah,' she smiles. ‘Eight o'clock at the Palais. Bring your dancing shoes.'

Nelly rolls her eyes and walks off. I follow, and May catches up with us a couple of seconds later, coming in between us and linking arms so we take up the whole of the pavement and people have to walk into the road to get round us. No one seems to mind though as May is smiling and they can't help but smile back.

‘I hope you know what you're doing, hanging around with that shifty little toe-rag, May Blake,' says Nelly.

‘Don't fret, Nell.' says May. ‘Harry's all right. He's the best dancer round here, and I've got me eye on that prize money.'

‘You watch your step, that's all I'm saying.'

May laughs. ‘What else am I going to be doing when we're dancing, eh?'

Nelly tuts. ‘Just you keep an eye on what Flash Harry is doing. He's a bit too free with his hands, if you ask me. People see you with him and you'll be getting a reputation.'

May rolls her eyes. ‘Oh Nelly, stop fussing. It's only a dance competition.'

Nelly sighs and gives up. ‘Where's your ration book, Queenie?' she asks me. ‘We need to get you registered at the shops. If we don't hurry up they'll be shut.'

I pat my pocket. ‘It's right here.'

‘Good. May, you run on and get the tea started. Spam fritters tonight.'

May pulls a face. ‘I hate those things. They taste bloody awful.'

‘It's all we've got in the house,' says Nelly. ‘So unless you've got a better idea, stop moaning and get them in the pan. We won't be long.'

May lets go of our arms and hurries away. Nelly and me cross the road and head for the shops.

‘Can't we buy something else if you don't like what we've got?' I ask. ‘I've got some money.' I'm not sure how much it's worth, but there's some paper stuff in the purse, so it should be enough for some food shopping. I refuse to think about how long this money is supposed to last me. Or who it really belongs to.

Nelly shakes her head. ‘It's not a matter of money, it's what rations we get. If you're thinking about using your cash to bring black market stuff into our house, you can think again, my girl. Those thieving beggars are making money by taking the food out of our boys' mouths you know, nicking supplies when all the decent menfolk are fighting for King and country.'

‘Whatever. I only asked.' Why does she always have to go on? Can't she chillax? She should have my problems. ‘I'm too tired to care what I eat anyway. Let's just get it over with.'

‘Well, you should care. Our dad's out there, God knows where, risking his life for the likes of you.' Nelly turns her head away, wiping at her eyes.

Oh my God, I've made her cry! I feel awful. I realise this isn't just her dad Nelly's talking about. It's my dad's grandpa – my great-grandpa. I can't tell her that though. She'll think I'm nuts. I start to hear Gnarls Barkley singing
Crazy
in my head and like he says, I probably am.

‘I'm sorry, Nelly. He'll be all right. Trust me. I know he will.'

She sniffs, acting like she isn't upset. ‘What do you know? Got the ear of the Admiralty, have you? Know who's gonna live and who's gonna be blown to kingdom come, do you?'

‘Not exactly,' I say slowly. ‘But my gran always says you have to carry on as though it's all going to work out all right in the end, otherwise you'll go mad.' I'm glad I remembered that. That's exactly what I need to be doing right now as well. ‘I'm trusting that your dad will come home safe after the war. Just like I'm sure you and May will be all right, and I'll find my way home in the end.'

‘You make it sound like you're lost, or something.'

‘That's exactly how I do feel at the moment,' I say.

‘Why didn't your mum and dad send you to live with your gran while they're away?' she asks.

I nearly say ‘they did', but stop myself just in time. I shrug. ‘It wasn't convenient,' I say. ‘So, are you going to show me these shops?' I hook my arm through Nelly's, like May did with me, and just like I do with my bestie – or rather ex-bestie Jess. Why did I have to go and think about that now? Isn't it weird how I can somehow go back over seventy years into ancient history, but can still remember what's happened in my own time, even though technically it hasn't happened yet?

Nelly looks surprised for a moment, and I think she's going to push me away, but she doesn't. ‘Come on then, Queenie Posh. Let's see if we can get something for the larder. Truth be told, I'm sick of spam n'all.'

CHAPTER NINE

Registering at the shops was scary. I had no idea what to do. I kept waiting for someone to realise I shouldn't be here. Thank God Nelly knew what she was doing. I felt like an idiot, and I'm sure the old guys in the grocery and the butcher's shop looked at me like I was a criminal or something. If only they knew the truth, I'll bet they'd have had heart attacks.

Anyway, I let Nelly do the talking – she seemed to know everyone anyway – and I just stood there grinning like a right fool. I got my ration book sorted and came home with some food, so now I don't feel like I'm sponging off Nelly and May anymore. With any luck I won't be here for very long, so they might end up with a little bit more food, sort of like compensation for putting up with me. If I can just figure out how to get home …

The rations I got for the week were pathetic – honestly, I could eat that much in one meal, and that doesn't mean I'm a pig or anything. Not that I fancy eating any of it, because it all looks absolutely minging. I'm not sure about the nutritional value of the fatty bacon, or the lump of butter they gave me, and I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do with the loose tea leaves. Apparently teabags haven't been invented yet. And I don't use sugar. Oh well, I can give that to the girls for their cakes.

May served the spam fritters with a tin of really nasty peas – I think they're called ‘marrowfat'. They were just as revolting as Nelly said they'd be. But I was so hungry I ate everything on my plate. I felt a bit sick afterwards, but that might have been because of the air raid …