As Rosie sat in the warmth of the canteen with the women, she felt one step removed from reality. It was as if her body was acting in a way that it was supposed to behave, but her mind was a completely different entity. Perhaps, she thought as she smiled at Dorothy’s chatter, even though she hadn’t taken in a word she’d said, this was what happened when you lost your mind, although Rosie didn’t feel as if her mind was really lost, more that it had become disjointed, cut off from the rest of her being. Like her weekly visits to Raymond, which were now passing in a haze. It was as if she was not really there, as if she was not really in physical proximity to the man she despised more than words could ever describe. Like how, at this very moment in time, she could see that her hand was holding a spoon, and that she was putting food into her mouth, but it was as if she was watching someone else do it.
Strangely enough, though, this displaced reality didn’t bother her. What did bother her were the stomach pains and headaches she seemed to be suffering from of late. She realised they were probably due to overwork. She knew she was driving herself to exhaustion, but there was no other option.
‘Sooo,’ Hannah’s sing-song, bird-like voice weaved its way into Rosie’s consciousness, ‘are we agreed? Gone to the Wind on Saturday?’
‘Gone with the Wind, Hannah. With the wind,’ Dorothy corrected. She had become Hannah’s self-appointed language teacher, something Hannah seemed happy enough with, which was just as well as Dorothy had never really asked her workmate if she minded. Dorothy had even brought a few of her own books into work and told Hannah to read them. ‘To improve your vocabulary,’ she’d told her. The novels were all romances or, judging by the pictures on the front, swashbuckling sagas set in another time in far-flung lands, which Hannah had been forced to hide from her aunty for fear she’d think her work at the yard was leading her astray.
Gloria laughed. ‘Well, we will all be gone with the wind if it gets any worse out there.’ Gloria was in a particularly good mood because Vinnie had gone to stay with his aged mother in Gateshead for a week, as she was unwell and it looked as though she might not see the year out.
‘So, we all going?’ Hannah persevered. ‘Saturday. Cinema. Gone with the Wind?’
‘Why not?’ Gloria said. ‘Just as long as they have some sort of heating there.’
Martha nodded in reply to Hannah’s head count and grinned enthusiastically, repeating the words ‘Gone with the Wind’. The women were now getting used to Martha’s growing habit of repeating an occasional word or phrase that she heard.
Polly agreed that she too was up for their girls’ night out. In fact, she was up for anything to take her mind off Tommy, whom she still hadn’t spoken to. She knew she was being stubborn, but so was he, and she was damned if she was going to give in. Besides, she had done nothing wrong. He was the one who’d cooled off and seemed more interested in Helen than anything, or anyone, else.
‘And you, Rosie?’ Dorothy asked, tentatively. ‘Pleeease, say you’re coming.’
Rosie looked around the women’s expectant faces and nodded. ‘All right, count me in.’
‘Hurrah!’ Dorothy gave a little jump of joy.
The rest of them smiled. They were pleased Rosie had agreed to come as she had not seemed at all herself for a good while now.
‘It’s like she’s not really here,’ Polly had mused to Gloria one day.
‘Mmm, like she’s going through the motions,’ Gloria had conceded.
Hannah had overheard their conversation and chipped in, ‘And she not look good either. Like – how you say it? – a ghost?’
‘Yes,’ Polly told her, ‘like a ghost. White as a sheet.’
The idea to go to the cinema had, of course, been Dorothy’s. After her split from Eddie she’d become a little quieter and more thoughtful than normal, but she was gradually getting back to her old self. She had opened up more about Eddie and how he had drained her of money and how he’d promised to take her to see Gone with the Wind but never had, which, Dorothy now realised, was because he had been secretly seeing Angie.
The women knew this was Dorothy’s way of standing tall after the humiliation she’d suffered at Eddie’s infidelity, so when she’d suggested they all had a ‘work jaunt’ they had agreed.
‘The last film I saw was The Wizard of Oz,’ Rosie said a little distractedly as they all prepared themselves for another harsh shift. It had been a film Rosie had seen with Charlotte and she knew it would feel strange going to the cinema without her little sister in tow.
‘Oh, I looove that film,’ Dorothy said, ‘but I could never quite work out if she dreamt the whole thing or not.’
There was no time for an answer or a discussion about the film as the women filed out with the rest of the workers, all busy buttoning up their coats and making sure their scarves and hats were firmly in place so as to keep out as much cold as possible.
As Rosie walked with the women, she pondered Dorothy’s question. Was it all a dream or not? Was life a dream or reality? The lines were becoming blurred. She no longer knew if her life was real or imagined.