to new premises, he felt it was time to move on.
‘I don’t think the boss is a very nice person,’ he’d told her. ‘Don’t let him get too close to you.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ she’d asked, thoroughly alarmed.
He’d hesitated for a second then changed the subject. ‘There are real opportunities in places like South Africa, and Rhodesia and Australia, the sort of opportunities the likes of you and me will never get in this country. We can get away from all the corruption in high places. It’ll be a whole new start, far away from the war and everything to do with it.’
‘If Mr Finley is up to something,’ she’d asked, ‘should I say something to my mother?’
He’d shaken his head. ‘Your mother and all the other girls are safe enough if you keep your distance, but he’s deep, that one.’
Out of loyalty, he stayed long enough to help clear up the old place, but just lately he’d seemed even more troubled about something. ‘I’m glad we’re going,’ he said one day. ‘I really don’t want to work for Finley any more.’
Once again she’d asked why but he told her not to worry her pretty little head.
‘How will we get to South Africa?’ she’d asked.
‘Leave all that to me,’ he’d said mysteriously, and then he’d filled her imagination with sun-drenched beaches and cocktails before dinner and making their fortune. They’d made love in his digs at Pavilion Road. They had to be very careful for fear of his landlady who was a deeply religious woman, but while she was wrestling with the Devil at the prayer meeting every Tuesday night, Bonnie and George were wrestling between the sheets. And while Mrs Kerr studied the Bible every Thursday, they filled themselves with more carnal delights. Bonnie smiled cosily as she remembered those wonderful nights together.
‘Tickets please.’ The conductor on the train brought her back to the present day and Bonnie handed him her ticket.
When she’d told him about the baby, George had been wonderful about it. That’s when he had bought her the locket. It was so beautiful she’d vowed to wear it all the time. He’d said she should get a job until it was time for the baby to be born and then they would set sail. Having a baby in South Africa wasn’t as safe as here in England. He’d promised to get her passport all sorted and she’d saved up the £2 2s 6d she needed. The last thing she’d done as she’d left the house was to remember to take her birth certificate. Bonnie couldn’t wait. It was so exciting.
‘I shall need references,’ she’d told George.
‘I’m sure you can get someone to vouch for you,’ George said, nibbling her ear in that delicious way of his. ‘I think you’re a very nice girl.’
She’d giggled. He had a way of making her feel that it would all work out. Right now everything was such a mess but once they were married, it would be all right. She was sure of it.
She had decided to ask her old Sunday school teacher to give her a reference. She didn’t really know why, but she trusted Miss Reeves absolutely. She didn’t tell her everything, of course, but then how could she? It was easier to be economical with the truth although it did make her feel a bit guilty. Still, it wasn’t as if she was lying to the vicar or something. All she did was tell her just enough for Miss Reeves to write a glowing reference addressed ‘To whom it may concern’.
‘I know the woman you’ll be working for quite well,’ George assured her when he gave her the slip of paper. ‘Mrs Palmer is a nice woman. You’ll like her.’
Bonnie frowned. ‘How do you know her?’
He’d pulled her close. ‘Don’t I know just about everyone who’s anyone, silly?’
When she had surprised him at his digs after the row with her mother last night, he had taken her to his room. ‘You’ll get me thrown out onto the street,’ he’d said and she’d laughed. ‘Who cares? We’re going to live in South Africa,’ she’d said, her cornflower-blue eyes dancing with excitement.
George had drawn her down onto the bed with a kiss. Bonnie closed her eyes as she relived the moment. He was so good looking, so strong, so manly … She sighed. She hated doing this to her mother but she had to. If she’d told her mother what she and George were planning, she would have talked her out of it. Grace was a good mother but she still thought of Bonnie as ‘her little girl’. Bonnie smiled to herself. If only she knew. She certainly wasn’t her little girl any more. Since she’d met George, she had become a fully-grown woman.
When her father had been killed in the D-Day landings, Grace Rogers had been totally lost without him. The day the telegram came, she’d sat on the stairs, hardly even aware that she had two daughters to look after. Rita was the only one able to pacify her and they sat crying together. Without their father, life had become so difficult. They never had much money even though her mother worked all the hours God gave. Bonnie knew her mother would be upset to lose her wage, but it was all swings and roundabouts. There would be one less mouth to feed and Bonnie was determined she’d send a bit of money as soon as she and George were settled in South Africa. Of course, she would write to her mother long before they got there and once they were there, Grace could hardly refuse her consent to their marriage.
Bonnie stared at the name and address on the piece of paper she had been given. Mrs Palmer, 105 Honeypot Lane, Stanmore. Telephone: Stanmore 256. She couldn’t wait to see George at the station. Everything was going to be absolutely fine, she just knew it. With a smile of contentment, Bonnie leaned her head against the carriage window and closed her eyes.
Rita was puzzled. When she’d arrived home from school after choir practice, she found her mother sitting in the darkness on the stairs. Rita could tell at once that she had been crying but she didn’t seem to be aware that she was wet through and shivering with the cold.
Rita sat down beside her. ‘Mum?’
Grace stood up. ‘I’m going to get changed.’ She knew Rita was wondering what was wrong but she didn’t look back as she wearily climbed the steep stairs.
There was little warm water in the tap and the bathroom was very cold, but Grace washed herself slowly. How was she going to tell Rita? She and Bonnie were very close, so close they might almost be twins rather than two years apart. Bonnie had left no note for Rita. The girl would be heartbroken.
As she crossed the landing, a thought struck her. What if Rita already knew Bonnie was going? Maybe they’d planned it this way together. Grace felt a frisson of irritation. How dare they!
By now, she was frozen to the marrow. Pulling out some warmer clothes, Grace dressed quickly; a dry bra, her once pink petticoat, and a blue cable knit jumper over a grey skirt. She sat on the edge of the bed to roll her nylon stockings right down to the toe before putting them on her foot and easing over the heel. Her clothes were shabby, the jumper had darns on one elbow and at the side, her petticoat had odd straps because she’d used one petticoat to repair another, and her skirt, which came from a jumble sale, had been altered to fit. The one luxury she allowed herself was a decent pair of stockings. She rolled them slowly up her leg, careful not to snag them on a jagged nail, and checked her seams for straightness. Fastening the stockings to her suspenders, Grace towel-dried her hair and pulled on her wraparound apron before heading back downstairs to confront Rita.
‘Something’s happened,’ said Rita as she walked back into the kitchen. ‘What’s wrong,
