‘Here’s another letter from school,’ Charlotte said, handing over an envelope that had clearly been opened and resealed.
‘Why don’t you tell me what it says, as you’ve obviously already read it?’ Rosie sighed. It was hard work being a sister-cum-mam-and-dad all wrapped into one. ‘If I had the energy, you would now be getting an earbashing from me about why it is totally unacceptable to read someone else’s post. If you are given a letter which clearly states it’s for me, that means it’s for me. How would you feel if I read Marjorie’s letters to you? Or your diary?’
Charlotte blanched.
‘See? It’s not nice having your privacy invaded, is it?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Some things are private for a reason,’ Rosie laboured the point. ‘Sometimes you’re not meant to see – or know – things for your own good.’
Charlotte shuffled about uncomfortably on the kitchen chair and mumbled another ‘Sorry.’ She waited a beat. ‘It’s about the new summer uniform.’ Her eyes went to the letter in Rosie’s hand. ‘When I have to start wearing it, where to get it from, how much it is – that kind of thing.’
Rosie opened the letter out and quickly scanned it.
‘It’s a lot of money,’ Charlotte ventured. ‘Marjorie was telling me how much her uniform costs, and all the other stuff – you know, art overalls, science overalls, gym kit. She says her mam and dad are always complaining how ridiculous it is that there’s only the one school outfitter they’re allowed to go to. Something about it being a monopoly on trade.’
Charlotte didn’t say that Marjorie had also commented that Rosie must have to work all hours to afford the school fees.
Rosie looked at Charlotte. She had been conscious the last time they were in the snotty outfitters in town buying her new winter uniform that Charlotte would see how much it all cost and start to wonder how she was able to afford it. She’d tried to settle the bill discreetly and had told Charlotte to have a browse around the shop, but Charlotte being Charlotte, she hadn’t ventured far. Rosie was sure she’d been near enough to hear the sales assistant itemising everything on the bill.
‘I personally don’t think you or Marjorie should be worrying your heads about how much your school uniform costs. I think you’ve got enough to concern yourselves with.’ Rosie looked at the pile of textbooks Charlotte had just dumped on the table. ‘Come on, take all your books into the dining room and let’s get the tea ready. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’
‘What are we having?’ Charlotte asked, gathering up her books.
‘Toad in the hole,’ Rosie said, getting out the frying pan and turning on the oven.
After setting out the homework she had to get done for the next day, Charlotte pushed a small blue book into the pocket of her skirt and went back into the kitchen. Every now and again, while helping Rosie to make the gravy and set the table, she kept touching the corner of the slightly battered notebook.
‘How long have you worked at Lily’s for?’ Charlotte tried to make the question sound casual.
Rosie felt herself bristle. ‘Why you asking?’
Charlotte laughed. ‘You always do that!’
‘What?’
‘When you don’t want to answer a question, you ask a question,’ Charlotte said.
Rosie forked a sausage. ‘Mmm, interesting observation … So, how long do you think I’ve worked there?’
‘Ahh,’ Charlotte laughed, ‘you’re winding me up now.’
Rosie smiled.
‘I’ve worked for Lily for years,’ Rosie conceded.
Charlotte knew not to probe further, but she thought it was weird her sister had never mentioned working there before when she’d been at boarding school in Harrogate.
It wasn’t until they had eaten their supper and were tidying up that Charlotte finally took out the notebook.
‘I think you dropped this the other day.’
Rosie’s heart dropped. It was Gloria’s rent book. It must have fallen out of the side pocket of her haversack.
‘I couldn’t help but look inside,’ Charlotte said tentatively. ‘It’s a rent book. For Gloria’s flat.’
Rosie took the book from Charlotte but didn’t say anything.
‘If Gloria’s paying you rent, that means you own the flat. Doesn’t it?’
‘Well,’ Rosie said, ‘that’s true to a certain extent … I do sort of own the flat.’
‘Sort of?’
‘Well, obviously, you know that I used to rent that flat.’
‘From the old man upstairs,’ Charlotte said.
‘That’s right.’ Rosie took her time in answering. ‘Well, I’d heard he was interested in selling the house – or rather, the flats that make up the house – and I thought it would be a good investment. You know, like George was talking about at Lily’s. And he suggested that, as I’d be saving money on rent, with me moving here and not paying anything—’
‘Because it’s Peter’s,’ Charlotte said.
‘Yes. And he owns it outright, so there’s no mortgage or anything to pay on it – you know what a mortgage is?’
Charlotte tutted.
‘Well, because I wasn’t paying out anything on accommodation, George advised me to buy the flat and pay back the money in instalments.’
‘But I didn’t think women could get mortgages or any kind of loan from a bank without a husband or father’s say-so,’ Charlotte said. ‘Peter’s away and not contactable – and we haven’t got a father, so I would have thought you’d be stumped?’
‘That’s right.’ Rosie looked at her little sister. She was savvier than she’d thought. ‘I’m impressed. Where did you learn that?’
‘Some woman came in to school one day and talked to us about women in society. Their rights. That kind of thing.’ Charlotte snorted. ‘Or rather their lack of them. She was talking about women getting the vote and how it’s important to use it when we’re old enough.’
Charlotte started to fill the bowl in the sink to wash up.
‘It was really interesting. That’s when I learnt what a mortgage is and how women can’t get one without a man’s permission. Honestly, it’s treating women like they’re thick.’
It was at moments like this that Rosie was glad Charlotte was back at home and not still at the Runcorn School for Girls. She couldn’t imagine Mrs Willoughby-Smith letting someone like that come to the school to give a talk.
‘So, if you couldn’t get a mortgage, how were you able to get a loan?’ Charlotte asked.
‘Well, it was actually a man who lent me the money I needed,’ Rosie admitted.
‘Who?’
‘George,’ said Rosie.
‘That was kind of him,’ Charlotte said. ‘He’s nice, George, isn’t he?’
‘He is,’ Rosie said. ‘He’s one of the good ones.’