terrifying.
They turned in through the iron gates of a small square recreation area. A couple of urchins in plimsolls and short trousers raced past, almost colliding with them. Having mumbled an apology they hared off again. The local school had turned out and the park was crowded with mothers and children making the most of the afternoon sun. But Rosie noticed that a lot of women looked anxious and were keeping an eye on the open skies. The missiles hadn’t only been arriving after dark and there was a tension in the air despite the children’s joyful voices.
‘Here’ll do.’ Gertie swiped away a crust of bird droppings on a bench’s slats. Having sat down she delved into her shopping bag, pegged on the pram handle. ‘Brought a flask.’ Gertie held out the Thermos. ‘Not much in the way of a picnic, though. Sorry, me rations are low.’
‘I’ve got some Spam sandwiches.’ Rosie dug into her bag and found a small packet. She unwrapped it and offered the sandwiches to Gertie. ‘Would have been corned beef but Dad wanted to keep that to fry up for our teas tonight.’
‘Blimey! They’re fit for a queen!’ Gertie looked admiringly at the tiny neatly cut triangles, unlike the doorsteps of bread and jam encased in greaseproof paper that she’d brought along. ‘Thanks.’ She took a bite before unscrewing the Thermos and pouring two weak brews into plastic cups.
‘Bread’s a bit dry; only had a scraping of Stork left in the pack,’ Rosie apologised.
‘Tastes fine to me,’ Gertie said truthfully, taking another hungry bite. At home she never had sandwiches with butter or marge. Those rations were saved for her husband and kids.
‘Your little ’un’s good.’ Gertie nodded at Hope, sitting quietly in her pram. Victoria, on the other hand, was rocking herself on her bottom and banging her heels against the thin mattress to get her mother’s attention.
‘She’s too big for the pram now,’ Gertie said, giving her daughter’s nose a wipe. ‘Like to get out and walk, don’t you, Vicky?’ Gertie lifted her daughter out of the pram and let her sit beside her on the seat. ‘Behave yourself,’ she warned. ‘Be a good girl like Hope.’
‘You wouldn’t have said that if you’d heard the little madam last night,’ Rosie responded ruefully. ‘Thought Doris was going to have a fit …’
‘Doris?’ Gertie asked, holding out Rosie’s tea to her. She noticed Rosie’s expression change. ‘’S’all right … not prying, honest.’ Gertie rummaged for a jam sandwich. She broke off a piece for her daughter and Victoria stopped fidgeting and tucked in. ‘Can Hope have a bit?’
‘Yeah … I’ve got her bib somewhere.’ As Rosie fastened the terry towelling about her daughter’s neck she said, ‘Doris is my stepmother. Dad got married again recently.’
‘Take it things ain’t always easy between you two.’ Gertie followed up with a knowing laugh. ‘I had some of that with me mother-in-law. Mustn’t speak ill of the dead, though, so enough said.’ She handed a morsel of bread oozing thick dark jam to Hope who promptly took a bite then threw the remainder overboard.
‘She’s not very hungry,’ Rosie apologised. ‘Dad gave her a few biscuits about an hour ago. He spoils her.’ She glanced at Gertie. ‘You’ve probably guessed that I’ve not got a home of my own and live with Dad.’
‘Me ’n’ Rufus started off married life at my mum’s,’ Gertie replied flatly. ‘Couldn’t wait to get out and into me own place.’
‘Drive you mad, did they?’ Rosie asked.
‘Wasn’t them; they did what they could for us. But couldn’t take living with me younger brother.’ Gertie clammed up. She never spoke about Michael. She didn’t want to see or hear from him ever again. In fact she hoped that the nasty bastard was six feet under. He’d been a thorn in her side for decades; even as kids they’d not got on. Then he’d plunged a dagger in her heart when her little boys died; she blamed him for the children having been left alone in the house that night.
In 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,’
