Rosie’s War. Kay Brellend

Gertie’s experience most of life’s troubles revolved around the men in her life. And she reckoned that Rosie was reluctant to talk about Hope’s father because she held the same opinion.

      ‘Army, is he, your husband?’ Gertie asked sympathetically. ‘Rufus ain’t the easiest man to live with yet when he was in France I fretted no end about him. Almost came as a relief when he got invalided home; I know that’s a wicked thing to say.’ She wiped her jammy fingers on a hanky. ‘Sometimes I’d not have the wireless on in case of any bad news about the Middlesex Regiment. Didn’t want Joey to hear it; it didn’t seem fair landing that on him as well after he’d lost his brothers. ’Course, now his dad’s back we don’t have that bother.’ Gertie gave a bashful smile. ‘Sorry, going on a bit, ain’t I?’

      ‘I like to hear about your family, Gertie. You must miss your sons so much,’ Rosie said quietly.

      Gertie nodded. ‘Joey took it badly. Thought at one point he’d need a dose of something from the doctor to calm him down. But we got through it … the two of us. After Rufus enlisted it was just me and him for a while, before Vicky was born.’ She sniffed, glanced at Rosie. ‘I understand if you don’t want to talk about your husband, though …’

      ‘I said I’d tell you more about myself today, didn’t I?’

      ‘’S’all right; you don’t have to say a thing if you don’t want to. Plenty of stuff in my past I never talk about.’ Gertie grinned. ‘Bet that’s come as a surprise to you after listening to me rabbiting nineteen to the dozen.’

      Rosie sat back sipping her tea. ‘I don’t have a husband,’ she suddenly blurted. ‘My name’s still Rosie Gardiner and never been any different although some people think I’m a widow called Mrs Deane.’

      ‘Stops ’em yakking, don’t it, if they see a ring on your finger?’ There had been a long silence before Gertie’s reply, but when it came it sounded matter-of-fact. ‘Wrong ’un who ran off, was he, the father?’

      ‘He was a wrong ’un all right,’ Rosie said bitterly. ‘But he didn’t run off. He never knew, thank God.’

      ‘Didn’t want no help off him?’ Gertie asked, surprised.

      Rosie shook her head vigorously. ‘Never wanted to see him again. And I got my way. I never did. He died before I even found out I was expecting.’

      ‘Killed in action?’

      ‘He got discharged as unfit before he’d ever held a rifle. Didn’t do him much good, though; he perished in a nightclub fire. The day I found out I could have jumped for joy. Some people might think that wicked.’

      ‘Not me. He raped you.’ Gertie’s quiet statement was husky with sorrow.

      ‘I didn’t say so,’ Rosie rattled off. Suddenly she regretted revealing too much about her past. Her dearest wish was to protect Hope, and hearing gossip that your father had raped your mother was a dreadful thing for any child to deal with. Having a chat and a picnic couldn’t alter the fact that she and Gertie still didn’t know one another well enough to share secrets.

      ‘You don’t need to worry,’ Gertie reassured. ‘Like I said, there’s plenty of stuff in my past I don’t talk about. So I’d never talk about your’n, promise.’

      ‘Thanks,’ Rosie mumbled. ‘Hark at us! Right pair of miserable cows, aren’t we? Thought I was getting out of the house to cheer myself up.’ She got to her feet, brushing sandwich crumbs from her skirt. ‘Let’s have a quick stroll round the grass before the heavens open.’ A cliff of dark cloud was menacing the horizon. People were gathering up their belongings and hurrying towards the park gates as they noticed the air changing.

      ‘Don’t fancy getting drenched.’ Gertie put the flask back in her bag and they headed off side by side, pulling the hoods up on the prams in preparation for a downpour.

      ‘I volunteered to work as an ambulance auxiliary. I’ve been talking about making myself useful for ages, so I finally did something about it.’

      Gertie looked surprised, then smiled. ‘Glad to hear it! They’ll take you on, no trouble, especially if a fellow interviews you.’ She glanced sideways at Rosie’s stylish skirt and blouse, so much prettier than the faded cotton frock she was wearing herself.

      ‘A woman interviewed me. And I got a letter this morning offering me a job.’

      ‘Good for you!’ Gertie glanced at Hope. ‘Yer stepmother going to mind the little ’un for you?’

      ‘Dad’ll help out as Doris is working.’

      ‘I’ll give a hand babysitting, if you like,’ Gertie volunteered. She’s such a cutie it’d be a pleasure to have her round to play with Vicky.’

      ‘Dad got moody when I spoke about getting Hope a nursery place. He’s determined to mind her,’ Rosie quickly rattled off. She liked Gertie but the woman was a rough-and-ready sort and she didn’t know enough about the Grimes family to let Hope stay there.

      Rosie felt bad for thinking she was a better mother than Gertie. Considering what life had thrown at the poor woman she deserved praise for coping so well.

      At the park gates Rosie turned to give Gertie a spontaneous hug. ‘Thanks … for everything.’

      ‘Ain’t done nothing,’ Gertie replied bashfully.

      ‘Yeah you have, and I’m so glad we bumped into each other that day. Don’t know what my shifts are going to be yet but I hope we can keep on meeting up.’

      Gertie took a scrap of paper from her bag. ‘Shopping list,’ she explained the spidery scrawl filling half of one side. Turning it over she printed her address on it with a stub of pencil found in a pocket. ‘There. When you get a day off, come and see me, if you like. I’m usually about.’

      With a wave the two women quickly set off in opposite directions as fat raindrops were spotting the hoods of the children’s prams.

      It had been clear skies when Rosie had set out for a picnic so she hadn’t bothered to stuff a scarf in her pocket, fearing the weather might turn. By the time she trotted up to her front door her stylish fair locks were glued to her cheeks in sleek rat’s-tails.

      ‘Crikey, you did get caught in it, didn’t you?’ John clucked his tongue while inspecting his daughter’s bedraggled figure.

      Rosie gave her head a shake and quickly unbuttoned her cardigan and took it off, hanging the sodden wool over a chair back.