Rosie Goes to War (25 page)

‘He's right, May,' says Nelly. ‘I ain't happy with her either, but we can't shut her out.'

I shake my head. Tonight's the night. I can't be with them. Somehow or other I'm leaving 1940, dead or alive. A strange sort of calm washes over me. Bill is May's hero now. My job here is done.

‘I'll find a public shelter. There must be one round here somewhere.'

‘Turn left out of here, second right. It's near the pub,' says Nelly.

May nods. ‘That's settled then.'

‘Here, hang on a minute,' says Bill. ‘We can't send her round there. It'll be full of drunks.'

I shrug. ‘I'll be OK.'

‘No you won't,' he says. ‘Look, there's an Anderson in Nan's back yard. Go down the alley next to number thirty-three and round the back. Her house is four doors up from there. The back gate ain't locked. There's a lamp in the shelter.'

‘Are you sure Lil won't mind?'

‘Don't be daft. She'd skin me alive if I let you go near the pub shelter.'

‘OK, thanks.'

‘Get a move on then,' says May. ‘And good riddance.'

‘We'll see you later,' says Bill.

‘Not if I see her first,' she says, earning a frown from Bill.

I want to say goodbye, but I know I can't. They won't understand. Instead I take a deep breath to stop myself from making a complete fool of myself, and walk away.

Nelly follows me out in the hall.

‘Is it still all right if I borrow a coat?' I ask.

‘I suppose.'

Poor Nelly, she wants to kick me out on my bum, but her sense of duty is forcing her to do the right thing.

‘I'm sorry Nelly. It wasn't what you thought, but I can't explain. Maybe one day you'll understand.'

‘I won't never understand you, Queenie, and it don't matter. I might not have approved of Harry, but you didn't have to treat May like that. I'll never forgive you for hurting my sister.' She opens the front door. ‘Now get out.'

I walk out and she slams the door shut behind me. As soon as the light from the hall is gone I'm plunged into darkness.

It's not the first time I've been out on the streets during a raid, or been alone in an air-raid shelter. I know I should be scared, but I'm feeling kind of numb. It took me a while to make my way across the street and to find the alley. There was a bit of light from the search beams in the sky to help me, but when I got into the narrow path between the houses it was pitch black and I had to feel my way along the wall. It was better when I got to the back of the houses, but only because I could see fires a few streets over. So it wasn't better, was it? What kind of a monster am I? Those lights were people's homes and lives going up in smoke.

Now I'm sitting here, in Lil's little armchair in Lil's shelter. I wonder if she realises she's my great-great Grandmother? I wish she was here now. There's so much I want to ask her, so much I want to tell her. But that's selfish, isn't it, wanting her here, when she's safe at her daughter's. God! I've made such a mess of things!

OK, I admit it, I'm crying. I'm blubbing like a baby. I can't stop. I know I haven't been here long, but I really love them, you know? May and Nelly – yes, even Nelly. The girls at the factory. Bill and Lil.

Bill and Lil? I let out a hiccup of laughter. I've never put their names together before. They sound like they should be a characters on CBeebies or something. I start crying again, because they're not puppets, they're real people, and I don't think I'm ever going to see them again.

The raid is going on and on. The constant drone of the planes, the ack-ack-ack of the guns, the whoomps and roars as the bombs land and explode. Every night. Every bloody night. Even though I know it won't go on for ever, that we're going to win, it's grinding me down. It's unbearable for the others who don't know what the future holds.

I'm exhausted. I really should try to sleep. That way, if I'm going to die, I might not see it coming. But my brain won't let me rest.

I keep thinking about May and Nelly and Bill. I hope they'll forgive me in the end. I think May will, because Gran said Queenie had done her a favour, didn't she? And I know how happy she was being married to Bill.

Bill's disappointed with me right now, but I think he'll realise that I wouldn't deliberately hurt May. And I definitely wouldn't fancy Harry. God, what a total loser!

But Nelly won't. Look how she talked about me when we found the suitcase at Gran's. If I can just get back to them I can explain. She might not believe me, but I can at least try.
If
I get back.
If.

The raid just won't quit. The lamp stops working, I can't see a thing. Without any light it seems to get noisier. I think it's getting closer because everything seems to shake with every explosion. Debris falls onto the shelter roof and a couple of times it feels like it's bowing under the weight of whatever's landing there. I feel the pressure of it pushing down on me, then it pushes the door outwards with a bang. I try to pull it shut again, but the doorframe is warped and in the end I give up. I sit down again and watch.

The sky is filled with light – beams searching for the enemy; tracer dots from their guns; a plane with an engine alight streaking across the sky, trying to get away; the fires on the ground, orange and blue flames eating houses and shops and everything in them.

Why are they doing this? This is so horrible. Nothing but hate and destruction. I don't care what people say, war is wrong. You can't do this to people.

It's so cold I can't stop shivering. I pull my knees up and hug myself. If I'm going to die, I hope it's quick. I don't want to burn. Oh God, what am I thinking? I don't want to die! All I want is to get back to Gran's, to my own time. I want to see her and Great-aunt Eleanor, and Mum and Dad, and even Jess. Yes, I've got to make it up with Jess. I know she did to me what I did to May. I'm sure of it. I've got to tell her. I'm not bothered about Simon any more. He's not worth it.

He hasn't changed. I have. I don't need to make a fool of myself over some vain, cocky sod who thinks he's God's gift. I need to find a chap like Bill, or, or Jessie's brother Luke. A nice guy who makes me laugh and who'll really care about me.

And things will be different with Mum and Dad too. I've grown up. I can't believe how stroppy and lazy I was. I'll never take them for granted again, I promise. They're always telling me I'm capable of doing things, and I've always ignored them. Being here with May and Nelly I've seen it for myself. I'm better than I thought I was, thanks to them.

The bombs are falling closer. I can see along the gardens of the houses, and suddenly there's a
whoomp
and all the windows blow out. The back wall of next door starts to crumble in slow motion. I can see a bed sliding into the garden, surfing down the collapsing wall and landing with a crash just a few yards away from me. A cloud of dust fills the air, I choke and cough, my lungs burning, my eyes stinging.

What am I doing here? Sitting and waiting to die? Forget it! I'm out of here!

I need to get back to the house. I don't care if the girls hate me, I've got to talk to them. I can't leave it like this. I'll make them understand. I refuse to let them live for seventy years thinking I was a tart or a spy or dead. I don't care if I change the future. They have to know the truth!

Still coughing, I head back to the house, praying it's still there.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

As I reach it there's an almighty explosion behind me. I fling myself at the front door and it swings open. I land in a heap in the hallway. I can't believe Nelly left it unlocked. That's just not possible. I'm sure I heard her lock it behind me.

I stand up and in the light from the street I see Harry creep out of the parlour.

‘What are you doing here?' I ask.

He swears. ‘Why ain't you in the shelter with the others?'

‘It's none of your business. You shouldn't be here, Harry. What are you up to?'

‘Just get out the way, Queenie, and you won't get hurt.'

I suppose I should be scared, but I'm not. He's sweating and looking over his shoulder into the parlour. A pale whiff of smoke spirals out.

I move closer, blocking his escape. He grabs my arms and pushes me back against the wall. I feel his smelly breath on my cheek. ‘You wouldn't hurt me, would you Harry?' I say, pretending to be scared, when in reality I'm so angry I'm shaking.

‘I might. You don't know what I'm capable of.'

It's hard not to smile at his tough guy act when you remember he ran off down the street whining like a
girl!
‘I've got a good idea, Harry,' I say.

‘Well then. I'm going to let you go, then I'm going to walk out of here, and you're going to keep schtum, all right?'

‘I'm sorry Harry, I don't actually know what schtum means,' I say, widening my eyes trying to look all innocent. ‘I come from the country, remember?'

He growls, looking over his shoulder at the smoke, which is getting thicker. I've got to stop it. He can't get away with this. I've got to use my head.

‘Have you ever been to Glasgow, Harry?'

‘Eh? No, ‘course not. What you on about?'

‘So you've never had a Glasgow kiss?'

He looks nervous. ‘You want to give me a kiss?'

I grin. ‘Oh yeah, a really special one. I saw it on a film about Scottish gangsters. You're going to love it. I've been dying to try it.'

‘Don't give me that. You bloody bit me last time.'

Damn, I'd forgotten that. I flutter my eyelashes. ‘I'm sorry you didn't like it, Harry. That's how we kiss in the country. I only did it because you're special.' And if he believes that he deserves everything he gets.

‘Is that right? Well, all right then. But no tongues, all right?'

‘All right. Now close your eyes.'

He smirks and shuts his eyes. As Gran would say, what a plonker! I screw my eyes shut, and slam my head into his face. He lets out a groan and drops to the floor, out cold.

Ow! Ow! Ow! God, that hurt! I shake my head, seeing stars.

There's a crackling noise from the parlour. I kick Harry's prone body out of the way and run into the room. The sofa's on fire. It's not too bad at the moment, but there's a lot of smoke and any minute now it's going to spread. I run back out into the hall, looking for something, anything I can use to douse the flames. I look at the coat stand. No, I can't use the fur, Nelly will kill me. I pull it off and hang it up.

Think! I've got to think! Lil said ‘use your head', but I've gone and headbutted Harry and now I can't think straight.

He groans. I kick him, hard, and he groans again, still stunned. He's wearing a big coat. That'll do. I grab it and roll him so that I can pull it off.

I run back into the parlour and throw it over the sofa. The smoke makes me cough again but I don't stop beating at the flames until I'm sure the fire's out. At last it's done. I turn on the light to make sure, and lean against the wall choking and spluttering.

I hear Harry moaning again. I pick up his coat which is all scorched and smoking, and as I do something drops out of a pocket. It's a small box. I open it and gasp, which sets me coughing again. Inside is a ring.
My Gran's ring.
I've known it all my life. Gran wears it all the time. She told me it was her Mum's.

I quickly search through the other pockets and find loads of stuff that doesn't belong in an honest man's pockets – a table lighter, a little silver pot, and a small leather bag containing a tie-pin. I know that too. Dad calls it his inheritance – it was his Grandad's and he wears it on special occasions. I see red. Harry's going to pay for this!

He's on his hands and knees, trying to get up. I kick his hands away and he falls on his face, his bum up in the air like some great big stupid baby.

‘Where do you think you're going, Harry boy?'

I jump on his back, reach round, undo his belt buckle and pull the leather strap off him. He's so beaten up he doesn't even fight me. It doesn't take long to pull him arms back and wrap the belt round his wrists.

‘Let me go, you mad bitch,' he whines.

‘Now why would I do that? The girls will want to see you, Harry. And I reckon after they've finished with you, you'll be grateful for some police protection. I expect there's a nice safe cell down the station with your name on it.'

What am I like? Oh God, this feels great! It's like being in your own action movie.

He squirms beneath me and I push his face into the lino. ‘Don't make me hurt you again, Harry.' He goes limp. Ha! What a wimp. ‘Now, I'm going to get up, and you're going to get up, but you'd better not try anything because I'm a black belt in origami, right, and you don't want to know what that really means, OK?'

I hold onto the belt binding his wrists and we stand up. I'm ready to bash him again if he tries to run, but as he straightens the hall lights up. I blink. Who turned the light on?

‘Rosie! Is that you darling?'

‘Gran!'

She's standing there in front of us, a rolled umbrella in her hand. Behind her I can see the magnolia walls and beige carpet up the stairs. Great-aunt Eleanor comes to stand beside her, looking fiercer than ever.

‘It's all right, Rosie, you can let him go now,' she says. ‘He won't give us any trouble, will you Harry?'

I can feel him tremble as I let him go. He sags a bit, as though his knees are going to give way, but he manages to stay upright. ‘Who … who the bloody hell are you?' he asks, his voice squeaking with fear.

Eleanor looks at him over her glasses. ‘We, young man, are the ghosts of Christmas yet to come.'

‘G-g-ghosts?'