Rosie Goes to War (6 page)

‘Watch your mouth,' Nelly snaps. ‘Just 'cause we think it don't mean we have to say it out loud. Our Mum'd turn in her grave hearing you talk like that.'

‘Sorry Nell,' says May, looking guilty. ‘I'm just so blinking tired.'

Nelly puts an arm round her sister's shoulder. ‘I know. But we've got to keep our standards up, May. We don't want Dad coming home and finding us turned into a pair of savages, do we?'

‘I s'pose not,' May sighs, rubbing her eyes. ‘Anyway, we've got to get up for work soon. I'm going to use the lav before I go in.'

‘Yeah, me too,' I say. No way will I come out here on my own in the middle of the night.

While Nelly and I wait for May to use the loo I close my eyes and try to imagine we're queuing for the loos at Glastonbury. I makes me smile. At least this queue is short and the loo is clean, even if it does have a faint whiff of cat.

I wish I could say something to make them feel better, but this war is going to last for years yet. I know they survive and their Dad comes home safely, but that's all I do know. So what can I say?

Above the noise of the fires I hear the loo flush and May emerges.

‘You go next, Queenie,' says Nelly sounding tired. She steps back and lets me go in front of her. I thought she was quite nice to May, even when she was telling her off, and now she's being nice to me. If she keeps this up I could start to like her. ‘But don't take all night about it,' she calls after me, spoiling the effect.

The kitchen seems warm and cosy after a few hours in the Anderson Shelter. Nelly boils the kettle and fills three hot-water bottles. I hug mine, glad of its heat.

Nelly glances up at the clock on the wall. ‘Better get to bed. Bombs or no bombs, we'll be for it if we're late in the morning. Mr Cohen don't put up with no time-wasters.' She collects up the cups and saucers left over from earlier. ‘You show her up, May, and I'll give these a rinse.'

I take the suitcase and follow May up the stairs to the first-floor landing. I know what the bedroom will look like before May opens the door. It was the same room Gran and me cleaned this morning. Only it's the dark, cold version, not the nice cosy one.

‘Isn't this Nelly's room?' I ask without thinking. When May turns to look at me, all surprised, I want to slap myself for being so stupid.

‘How did you know that?' May asks.

‘Er … I'm psychic?'

May giggles. ‘Nah, don't be daft. There ain't no such thing, is there? Mind you, Lil over the road reckons she's got the 'fluence on account of her Nan being a Romany who used to live in caravan.' She wiggles her fingers in front of her face and crosses her eyes. ‘Mad as a hatter, she is.'

I grin and shrug. ‘OK, I'm not psychic. I just guessed.'

May nods. ‘Fair enough. It was a good guess. Nelly's moved into our dad's room while you're here. If he comes home on leave, we'll have to share so he can have his bed.'

‘Are you expecting him home soon?'

‘Dunno. He's Merchant Navy, not regular. It's more dangerous, you know. The Merchants are trying to keep us supplied, but the bloody U-boats keep going after them.' She's quiet for a bit. Then she looks all serious and says, ‘I have nightmares sometimes. I'm scared he won't come home. We've already lost our mum. What will we do if we lose him too?'

I want to hug her. She looks so sad. ‘He's going to be all right,' I say. ‘I know he will.'

‘No you don't,' she says. ‘Only God knows, and he ain't letting on. But thanks for trying to cheer me up anyway. Now, there's a bit of space for your bits and bobs. Nelly cleared out the top drawer of that chest, and there's a couple of hangers spare in the wardrobe if you want to hang anything up.'

‘OK, thanks.' I wait for her to go, but she sits on the bed.

‘What have you got then? Let's see your clothes. I don't suppose you brought an overall for work, did you?'

‘I don't know,' I say. I can't remember seeing one. I pick up the case and put it on the bed next to her. She's looking at me a bit funny. ‘I – er, my gran packed for me,' I lie. ‘I don't know what she put in here.'

May's face clears. ‘Well get it open then, let's have a butchers. I love seeing what other people have got. Nelly says I'm right nosy, but I just think it's really interesting. Don't worry, it won't bother me if you've got something I ain't.'

I open the case, bracing myself for the mothballs, but it smells all right, like the clothes have just been washed. It's definitely the same case, but everything is neatly packed, not just stuffed in like it was when I shut it and carried it out of Gran's kitchen. The papers and gas mask box are on the top. I put them on the dressing table, then take out the pretty blue cardigan with the pearl buttons.

‘That's nice,' says May. ‘Did you make it?'

I laugh. ‘God no. I can't knit.'

‘You're pulling my leg. Everyone can knit.'

‘Not me.'

‘Didn't your mum teach you?'

‘She can't knit either,' I say. ‘She tried, but she's useless, which annoys her because some of her friends are really good at it and are always making weird-looking jumpers and throws for their sofas, that sort of thing. I'm glad she can't. I wouldn't want to have to wear some of the rubbish those women produce. They look ridiculous if you ask me.'

‘So who made that?' she asks, pointing at the cardigan.

I shrug. ‘Dunno.'

I open the drawer May said I could use, and put the folded cardi in. The next thing out of the case is the cotton nightdress.

‘Ah, that's lovely,' says May, ‘and cosy too. A nice long nightie's just the thing to keep your bum from freezing.'

She said it in my day too, and she's right. It's flipping cold in here. The nightie and the hot-water bottle should keep me warm. I wonder when Gran had central heating installed. Probably not for decades yet.

‘Are you two still up?' Nelly is standing in the doorway. ‘Come on, it's nearly three o'clock. We've got to be up at six. Get to bed.' She turns and heads for the door of what I know as Gran's bedroom.

‘'Night, Nelly,' May calls after her. ‘Sleep tight.'

Nelly ignored her and shut the door.

‘Is she always this rude?' I ask, feeling bad for May.

‘She gets a bit grumpy when she's tired, that's all.'

‘Have we really got to get up at six?'

‘Yeah, so we'd better do like Nelly says and get some sleep.' She stands up, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. ‘I'm just next door if you need anything, Queenie.'

I realise that ‘next door' is where Gran's bathroom is. I wonder where the bath is in 1940, but I'm too tired to care.

‘Thanks,' I say. ‘Goodnight.'

‘Night, night,' she says as she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

I turn and look at the open case. I start to empty it and put everything away, but then wonder whether I should leave it. After all, I might not be here long. With any luck I'll wake up at Gran's,
when
I should be. I just hope I don't wake up sharing a bed with Great-aunt Eleanor!

I think about sneaking down to the hall mirror to see if I can get it to send me back, but the stairs are creaky and they'll know I'm there and think I'm trying to do a runner – which I am, really. But I'm so tired and it's freezing, so I leave half the stuff in the case, move it onto the floor, turn off the light and crawl into bed with the hot-water bottle.

Even that's a weird experience. There's no big fluffy duvet like I'm used to. Instead, the sheets are freezing and the couple of thin, scratchy blankets don't seem to help at all. I lie there shivering, hugging the hot-water bottle.

When May brought me in here, for a second – just a second – I saw the lemon-painted walls and cream carpet from Gran's. I tried to sneeze, to see if it would get me back there. But I just went dizzy again and here I am, stuck in a freezing bedroom with more of that awful brown lino on the floor. It's funny, I never liked that lemon colour scheme, but I really miss it now.

I roll over and punch the pillow. I'm still not sure how I got here, but I'm beginning to realise this is definitely more than just a dream. But there's nothing I can do about it. All I can do is wait and see, and hope like mad I can get back to real life soon.

I wonder if I'm dead but haven't realised. I know it sounds really stupid, but maybe I really died when I got knocked out, and that's why I woke up in this weird place. I hope not. I don't want to be stuck here for ever and ever.

CHAPTER SIX

I swear Nelly enjoys seeing people suffer. I barely slept anyway, and I'd just dozed off when she was shaking me awake.

This morning has been dead embarrassing actually. I got stroppy with Nelly for waking me up, because I was dreaming I was back at home. So when she woke me up it was like she'd dragged me back to the past again, and I was so upset I told her to ‘eff off' – only I used the full word, which I don't usually. But I couldn't help myself.

‘Don't you use that language in this house,' she'd said, ‘or I'll wash your filthy mouth out with carbolic.'

I could see she meant it, even though I have no idea what carbolic is. It's bound to be something horrible.

‘Bloody leave me alone,' I said, turning away from her.

Well, Nelly wasn't having that. She grabbed the bedclothes and pulled them off me. It was so flipping cold, I screamed. Then May came running in, wanting to know what all the fuss was about.

Anyway, it wasn't a good start to the day, so let's leave it at that. I got up in the end because I didn't have any choice. There was a bowl of watery porridge waiting for me downstairs – no sugar of course – and some of that weird-tasting tea. Apparently, it's the ‘sterilised milk' that makes it so strange. I think it's like UHT milk, but as we don't use that at home I have no idea whether it tastes the same.

Then, I had to wash at the kitchen sink, using the foulest-smelling soap I've ever encountered. It's called Wright's Coal Tar Soap – honestly. Just don't ask, because I have no idea. The smell is almost as bad as mothballs.

I completely forgot about cleaning my teeth last night. I suppose, when you think you're going to die, it sort of becomes a low priority. This morning I discovered there's no toothpaste, so I had to clean my teeth with some weird powder I found in the suitcase. The toothbrush with it is made of wood and has real bristles. Honestly, it was like putting an old garden broom in my mouth. It was horrible. I'd have given anything for my electric toothbrush and a tube of Aquafresh.

I had to ask May what I should wear for working in a factory. Well, I don't know, do I? I'm just glad that May was around, because Nelly isn't talking to me. I suppose I'll have to apologise to her soon, but she doesn't make it easy. She's just as cross and disapproving now as she will be in the future.

Maybe I should try to get her to lighten up a bit. Or would that amount to messing with the future?

So, now we're on our way to work. It's still dark, and the street lights are off, so I've got to make sure I stay close to the girls or I'll lose them. Thank God I found some flatter shoes in the case, and some nice tailored charcoal wool trousers (high waist though, I'm not used to that), a cream cotton blouse and a dark red jumper. I don't have a big coat, just the suit jacket, but the girls are moving fast, so I'm getting pretty warm almost running to keep up with them. My gas mask box is slung over my shoulder and it's banging against my hip. I'll probably end up with a bruise. I don't suppose they'll have any arnica gel for it. Mum's always got some homeopathic stuff for whatever's wrong with us. Dad calls it mumbo-jumbo, but she swears by it even when he's going on about it having no proven scientific effect.

‘Hurry up, Queenie,' says May. ‘If you don't get a move on we'll miss the bus.'

‘How much further is it?' I ask, trying to hold the box against me so it doesn't keep hitting me.

‘Just round the corner.'

I'm almost jogging as we round the corner and – oomph! I run straight into someone, a big someone, banging my nose on hard brass buttons in the middle of his chest. A pair of arms grab me to stop me from bouncing off him and onto my backside.

‘Sorry, Miss. Didn't see you there.'

I look up – and it's a long way I can tell you – into the face of a soldier. He's fairly young, I think, although his voice is quite deep and he's very tall. It's still too dark to see all his face clearly, but his smile is quite nice.

‘That's all right,' I say, smiling back at him. I don't usually smile at strangers, but there's something about this guy. I suppose it's because he saved me from falling over, and he's so solid. He seems familiar, like I've seen him on telly or something, which is stupid. But I don't have time to think about it because May's beside me.

‘Come on, the bus is coming!' she says, grabbing my arm. ‘Morning, Jock. Can't stop, we're late.'

‘Morning, May. Who's your friend?'

May is dragging me towards the stop where Nelly and a queue of other people are about to get on the bus. ‘Her name's Queenie,' she calls over her shoulder. ‘New machinist, been billeted with us. See you later.'

‘Yeah, all right. You take care. Ta'ra.'

He waved and disappeared round the corner.

‘Who's that?' I ask May.'

‘Just Jock. His nan lives over the road from us. He's always round our way.'

‘He's quite fit.'

May looks at me a bit strange. ‘Of course he's fit. He's a blooming soldier.'

‘I mean he looks nice.'

‘Well why didn't you say that?' May shakes her head. ‘You do talk daft, Queenie. But yeah, he is nice, I suppose. Bit boring though. I like my fellas to have a bit of spark about them. Come on, before the clippie rings the bell.'