‘So, just remind me,’ Charlotte said as she hurried to keep up with her sister’s brisk pace as they walked along Burdon Road. ‘We’re going to meet Polly and her family who live in the east end?’
‘That’s right,’ Rosie said.
‘And Polly is one of your squad. A welder. And she’s the one who’s over the moon because her fiancé, who everyone thought was dead, is alive?’
‘Yes,’ Rosie confirmed.
‘And …’ Charlotte hesitated for a moment. She had met so many people yesterday. ‘Polly lives with Mrs Elliot who works in admin?’
‘Yes, they’re sisters-in-law. Mrs Elliot is married to Polly’s brother Joe, who was medically discharged after he got caught by a landmine out in North Africa.’
‘Gosh, that sounds awful,’ Charlotte said. ‘I’m guessing he’s all right now?’
‘He’s got a bad limp. He had a load of shrapnel in his leg. Sometimes it’s a job to get it all out. Walks with a stick, but he still manages to do quite a bit with the Home Guard.’
Charlotte didn’t say anything. She’d never met a real soldier before.
‘Let’s cut through the park,’ Rosie suggested.
As soon as they’d got through the gate, Charlotte gasped in horror.
‘Oh my goodness.’ She stood stock-still and stared at the forty-foot-wide crater.
Rosie didn’t say anything, but instead turned back to the gate they’d just walked through.
‘I forgot I wanted to show you something,’ she said.
Charlotte followed, her eyes still trained on the crater.
‘Can you remember Binns?’ Rosie cast a look at her sister.
‘Of course I can,’ Charlotte said. ‘Mam used to take us there every Christmas to see the window display.’
‘That’s right,’ Rosie said, noticing that Charlotte was now referring to their mother as ‘Mam’ and not ‘Mum’. It had been ‘Mammy’ when their mother was alive.
‘Well, that’s what it looks like now.’ Rosie pointed over to a cordoned-off bomb site on the corner of Fawcett Street. They’d actually passed it last night on their way to see Kate, but it had been too dark to see properly. Rosie had also purposely not pointed it out then as she had wanted Charlotte to see the town in the clear light of day.
‘When did that happen?’ Charlotte asked.
‘April last year,’ Rosie said. ‘It was gutted by a load of incendiary devices and they had to pull it down.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked as Rosie started walking along Borough Road.
‘Why would I?’ Rosie replied.
Charlotte was just about to tell her sister exactly why she should have told her, when she stopped in her tracks.
‘Is that … was that the Victoria Hall?’ she asked, her eyes glued to a mountain of debris where the music hall had once stood.
Rosie nodded solemnly.
‘That happened just a week after Binns was bombed.’
Rosie started walking again.
Charlotte followed.
A few minutes later they came to another bomb site.
‘This is Tavistock Place, where one of the bombs dropped the other night,’ Rosie said.
She stopped at the top of the road and pointed to yet another mountain of bricks and mortar.
‘That was a food warehouse.’
Rosie turned right and the two sisters walked down the long line of terraced houses that made up Laura Street. At the junction with Murton Street there was another massive crater. It looked as though someone had hit the cobbles with a gigantic hammer.
‘You’d probably have just been getting on the train at York when that one landed, but fortunately it didn’t explode.’
It took them another minute or so to walk down Murton Street before turning right into Tatham Street.
Charlotte stared at the devastation at the end of the road. It looked as if the houses at the bottom had been stomped on. She’d never seen anything like it. There was upended furniture, half-buried sofas, a crushed tricycle. About half a dozen people were wandering around the bomb site. Some were salvaging goods. Others were simply looking. She recalled the snippets of conversation she’d caught yesterday amongst the women in the office. It was one thing hearing it discussed, quite another seeing it first-hand.
‘More than a dozen killed,’ Rosie said.
She looked at Charlotte who was still staring at the ruins.
‘Sixteen others were badly injured,’ she added.
They stood and looked.
‘Gloria and her little girl Hope nearly died when number two came down.’ Rosie pointed to a mound at the bottom right-hand side of the street. ‘And Martha and Miss Crawford nearly died saving them.’
Rosie turned to her sister and gently placed her hands on her shoulders.
‘Now do you understand why I don’t want you to live here?’ She looked in earnest at her sister. ‘At least in Harrogate I know you’re safe. Safe from all this.’ Rosie turned her head to look at the devastation just a hundred yards from where they were standing.
‘Families are evacuating their children out to the country, not the other way around,’ she added, with more than a hint of exasperation in her voice.
Charlotte had to bite her tongue.
She wanted to say that Rosie wasn’t her mother – and that at fourteen she was no longer a child.
More than anything, she wanted to tell her the real reason she didn’t want to go back to Harrogate, but she knew she couldn’t.
‘Come on,’ Rosie said. ‘Let’s go and meet the Elliots.’
‘I thought Charlie was a lad’s name?’ Pearl came bustling down the stairs, fag, as usual, scissored between her fingers ready to spark up. She’d heard Rosie introducing her sister to everyone and knew there’d be a cuppa begging, as well as a few biscuits. Agnes was in a baking mood and Pearl was determined to make the most of it.
‘It’s short for Charlotte, Ma, as you well know.’ Bel rolled her eyes theatrically to the ceiling before continuing to pour out everyone’s tea.
‘Well, Charlotte,’ Pearl said, balancing two pieces of shortbread on the saucer of her cup of tea. ‘I think yer far too bonny fer a boy’s name. It’s like my Isabelle here, she will insist on being called Bel – like something yer bloody well ring!’
‘Ma, out the back and smoke your fag,’ Bel ordered, before Pearl could say anything else. ‘And don’t drop your biscuits, ’cos that’s your lot!’
Charlotte couldn’t believe this coarse, mutton-dressed-as-lamb woman was Bel’s mother. She stared as Pearl hurried out into the backyard.
‘I’m afraid I’m gonna leave yer all to it,’ Joe said, pushing himself up from his chair. ‘The Major’s expecting me in ten.’
Charlotte looked at Bel’s husband and thought he was totally gorgeous. Especially in his uniform. The spit of Errol Flynn.
‘Nice to meet you, Charlie.’ He put out his hand.
Charlotte could feel herself go bright red as she shook it.
‘You too, Mr Elliot.’
Joe laughed loudly.
‘Please, call me Joe. Mr Elliot makes me sound like an old man!’
Agnes quickly wrapped half a dozen biscuits in a sheet of greaseproof paper and tied it with string into a neat little parcel.
‘For you and the Major.’
As Joe left, Arthur came into the kitchen and was introduced to Charlotte. He was reminded of his own daughter when she was that age, but didn’t say so. Even now he still found it hard to talk about Tommy’s mam, who had taken her own life after losing her husband in the First War.
‘Well, I can’t hang around idly gossiping!’
Pearl had reappeared from the backyard.
‘Bill’s asked me to gan in early to help open up. It’ll be busy today. Always is after an air raid,’ she informed everyone as she left the kitchen.
For the next half-hour, Agnes, Polly, Arthur and their two guests chatted, drank tea and ate home-made biscuits.
The bombing was, naturally, the main topic of conversation – as was Tommy’s return.
Rosie had to stop her own thoughts straying to Peter, wondering about him in France. What kind of covert operations was he involved with? How dangerous were they? She prayed that he was keeping himself safe.
On hearing that Charlotte was working at Thompson’s, Agnes showed her disapproval with a loud tut and shake of the head.
‘If Rosie’s little sister wants to work in the yards, she should be able to,’ Polly said, giving Charlotte a wink. ‘I’d have given anything to start work at Thompson’s when I was that age.’
Charlotte appreciated the show of solidarity but felt like a bit of a fraud. It hadn’t exactly been her choice to start working there – although she would probably have agreed to work down the mines if it meant not going back to Harrogate.
When Rosie mentioned the fact that she had shown Charlotte what was left of Binns, as well as the once magnificent Victoria Hall, Agnes proceeded to give Charlotte a rundown of just about all the other air raids in other parts of town that had killed, maimed and mangled over the past two years. She knew Rosie’s intention today was to show Charlotte the devastating reality of war, and how different it was to living in Harrogate, which, from what Charlotte had told them, had suffered just the one air raid with no one hurt. They had all laughed loudly when Charlotte had told them that part of the bomb was currently being displayed in a shop window.
What Agnes didn’t realise, though, was that there was another reason why Rosie had brought Charlotte to the east end, and that it was something Rosie had wanted to do since the horrendous night two years ago when she had nearly died at the hands of her uncle. She wanted her to meet the woman to whom she would be eternally grateful – a woman who had stayed up with her all night, nursing her through the hell of arc eye, tending her wounds and facial burns and not once asking any questions or making any judgements.
One day Rosie would tell Charlotte why Agnes was such a special person.
When it was time to go, Charlotte felt loath to leave the cosy kitchen-cum-living-room.
‘Don’t forget,’ Polly said, ‘if you have any problems at work, either go and see Bel or just come and see us lot out in the yard.’
‘Charlie might be working out in the yard soon,’ Rosie said, shrugging on her grey mac, which oddly enough matched her little sister’s. ‘I think Miss Crawford’s going to have her doing all sorts. Give her a good grounding in all things shipbuilding,’ she added, walking down the hallway.
Agnes tutted even more loudly than last time. She was no fool, though. She knew what Rosie was doing and certainly didn’t blame her. The way Charlotte had blushed in front of Joe showed she was still very innocent. If she found out that her older sister, the one stable presence in her life since her parents’ death, had worked as a call girl in a brothel she now part-owned, it would not bode well.
‘Well, you just take care in them yards, pet.’ Agnes wrapped her arms around Charlotte and gave her a hug. She felt her stiffen in her embrace and realised the girl wasn’t used to physical affection. She let her go but took hold of her hand.
‘Yer one of the family now, yer know?’ She looked at Charlotte and then up at Rosie. ‘No matter whether yer here or back in Harrogate.’
‘Aye,’ Arthur said, standing up and ruffling her hair, ‘never feel like yer on yer own.’
Charlotte suddenly felt the urge to cry. She told herself not to be stupid and to ‘buck up’.
‘See you tomorrow,’ Rosie shouted back to Polly and Bel.
Polly had told her that she’d be back at work tomorrow. Her plan was to work a full shift, but to pass up any overtime and go up to the Ryhope on an evening to see Tommy.
Rosie was glad. It would mean she’d have her squad back. All apart from Gloria. She knew Helen would also be pleased. She might have joked the night of the air raid about continuing to be a pain when it came to hitting the new tonnage record, but Rosie knew part of her was deadly serious.
And if Rosie was honest, she too wanted to see the yard break the thirty-six-year production record. With more women working in the yards it would prove her point that the women were as good as the men – that they were just as hard-working and productive, if not more so.
‘I have to go out and work this evening,’ Rosie told Charlotte after they’d had their pie and pea supper. It had always been Charlotte’s favourite when they were small, and by the look of the plate scraped clean, it still was.
‘At Lily’s?’ Charlotte asked as she gathered up the dirty dishes and started washing up. It hadn’t escaped Rosie’s notice that Charlotte was endeavouring to be the perfect house guest.
‘Yes,’ Rosie said, wanting to keep any talk about Lily’s down to a minimum. ‘But before I go, we need to sit down and talk properly.’
Charlotte felt her heart sink. She shouldn’t have been surprised. She’d thought Rosie was going to have ‘the talk’ with her last night, after they’d had their supper. But she hadn’t said a dicky bird.
‘So,’ Rosie said, taking a sip of her tea and looking at her sister across the small kitchen table. ‘Why has being at Runcorn become a fate worse than death?’
Rosie gave what she hoped was a sympathetic smile. She hadn’t quite given up on the idea that she could get to the bottom of whatever it was that was making Charlotte unhappy at school. She could then sort it out. Get Charlotte back there. Everything could return to normal and there’d be no more stress over her sister finding out about what really went on at Lily’s.
Charlotte took a deep breath. She had to make this convincing. She thought about some techniques she had been taught in her drama class. Her teacher had told them that acting was really an expert form of lying, and the main way to master the skill was to believe what you were saying yourself.
‘I’m just really, really homesick,’ Charlotte said.
This was true.
‘I miss you. I miss being where I belong.’
Again, this was true.
‘And is there anything else, apart from feeling homesick, that has made you want to leave school?’ asked Rosie, being as empathetic as possible.
Charlotte shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Are you sure?’ Rosie asked. ‘What about all the hoo-ha at the start of term? That awful fight with that girl? It seems like a bit of a coincidence …’
Charlotte shook her head again and pasted a look of puzzlement on her face, as though she couldn’t quite understand why the two might be related.
‘Perhaps,’ she perked up, ‘that happened because I was so homesick.’
Charlotte felt like patting herself on the back. The school debating club had come in useful for something.
‘Mmm.’ Rosie took another sip of her tea. ‘Well, if that’s all that’s really the matter …’ She stopped. ‘Not that I’m belittling the fact you feel homesick. But if that really is the problem, then I have a solution.’
She took a deep breath.
‘I think the ideal situation would be for you to go back to school, but to come back here during half-term and holidays. Weekends if you’re really feeling homesick.’
Charlotte’s heart sank for the second time. She tried to make her eyes tear up, but they stayed dry as a bone.
‘But Rosie, I want to be here all the time. I want to live here. Not just visit during the holidays.’ She knew her voice was sounding whiny, which was never good, but she couldn’t help it. So much for her drama lessons.
Rosie sat back and looked at her sister.
She then looked at her watch.
‘Think about it, Charlie. Really think about it. Remember, Harrogate has been your home for the past six years. You may well miss it if you just up and leave and never go back.’
Charlotte had to clamp her mouth shut.
‘Just give it some thought, eh?’ Rosie said, getting up and grabbing her boxed gas mask and handbag. She kissed her sister on the head.
‘And try and get an early night. You’ll be up early tomorrow for work, don’t forget.’