On a Wing and a Prayer. Ruby Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ munitions factory since before the outbreak of war, had remained at home as a loving support, burying her own ambition to be, as she believed, of more value to the war effort as a member of one of the women’s services. Now, after almost three years of waiting and hoping, Rose had asked her employers to release her so that she could enlist. To say that she was surprised to have had her request granted so quickly would be an understatement. Her immediate boss had informed her that the company would write a recommendation asking that Rose Petrie be allowed to join the Women’s Transport Service, part of the Auxiliary Territorial Service.

      ‘We’ll be sorry to lose you, Rose, grand worker that you are, but if you want to be in the ATS then we feel it’s our duty to help you,’ said her shift foreman. ‘Mind you, we shouldn’t have had to read about the heroism of one of Vickers’ workers in a small paragraph in the local paper. Too modest by half, our Rose, and why they had to use an old school photograph, I’ll never know.’

      Rose, who had refused to be interviewed or to have her photograph taken, had been unaware that the newspaper had photographs from her school sports days in their files. They had produced their article anyway, without her cooperation. She could still see nothing heroic about running for help and would have preferred it if the incident had never come to light.

      ‘You’d think I swam through shark-infested waters, the way they’re carrying on,’ she wrote in a letter to her sister. ‘Yes, I delivered the dispatch and I hope it was worth it, but that boy died, Daisy. He’s the hero. A hero would have been able to save him, not leave him alone to die. I can still see his face and hear his voice…’

      Rose had not really expected her mother to be delighted when the letter of acceptance arrived, but neither had she expected such strong opposition. After all, it could scarcely be called a surprise. Rose loved her parents and hoped to continue to be a tower of strength to them, but it would have to be from whichever posting she was given. Her training post was to be in Surrey, a joy to both Rose and her parents as it was no great distance from Dartford. Should Fred be unable to find petrol, her parents would visit by train or, if Rose were to be given a pass, she could travel home. Rose was determined not to feel guilty: because she was looking forward with delight to being away from home, away from the cosy flat where she had lived all her life, away from the factory where she had spent several years, and especially away from embarrassing memories of Stan’s comments.

      Her thoughts flew to Grace Paterson, an old school friend. Grace had simply walked out of her home and disappeared for almost a year. No one had had the slightest idea where she was or what had happened to her. Maybe I should do the same, Rose thought. Just pack my little bag and melt into the night.

      Envisaging her mother’s distress if she were to do such a thing, Rose quickly changed her mind. She could never bring herself to disappear without warning. She sighed. How lovely it would be not to have a conscience. Life would be so simple.

      The date had been fixed. In two weeks’ time, Rose Petrie would show herself at Number 7 ATS training centre in the lovely Surrey town of Guildford. After induction and training, she would become a fully credited auxiliary. Flora, Rose felt, would cope as she had coped with every situation this war had thrown at her.

      ‘It’s only down the road, Mum. I’ll come home every minute of leave I get. Maybe I’ll be able to give you a hand in the shop now and again. You’ll see. You’ll hardly know I’m not here.’

      Flora pretended that she believed what her daughter was saying, while Fred explored every known avenue – and a few shady formerly unknown ones – but was unable to source extra petrol. His daughter reminded him that she was of age and perfectly capable of starting her adventure on her own.

      ‘For heaven’s sake, Dad, a training camp can’t be anywhere near as scary as a munitions factory, and you and Mum managed to let me do that on my own.’

      ‘You weren’t on your own, love; for a while you had our Daisy here supporting you.’

      *

      Some days later, Rose went shopping for her exciting new venture. She had been told that her uniform would be provided, and so she had packed a few changes of clothes for off-duty hours, if there would be any. Discovering the frock she would have worn to the spring dance – had Stan taken her – she pushed it to the very back of her wardrobe. She was sure she would never want to go dancing again. She was joining the ATS and would be dedicated to her work, to her new career, she decided rather grandly.

      Her parents had told her to make a list of the personal items she would want to take with her. ‘You’re welcome to anything that’s in the shop, love. Me and your mum’ll be happy to pay for it,’ Fred had said, but Rose wanted the excitement of going shopping for this amazing adventure, which, even before it had properly begun, she was finding both exhilarating and frightening.

      ‘Stockings, pyjamas, white petticoat, white thread, black thread, darning wool, elastic – if I can find any – shampoo, toothpaste, deodorant.’ The list seemed endless. ‘Unbelievable, Mum, the list of things we can’t live without.’

      ‘We’ve learned to do without, lass; hardly notice any more that we haven’t seen a banana in years. Here, have a look in this,’ Flora said as she handed her daughter a catalogue. Flora hid her misery well. She would never accept that all five of her children were, as she put it, in the Forces – the four still alive, that was – but she could pretend, she hoped, until Rose was gone.

      Looking at the advertisements in her father’s catalogues was an important part of searching for ‘best price’. Fred had no space on his packed shelves for deodorants but they were listed in the catalogues. Flora had found one with a catchy name: ODO-RO-NO – ‘The greater the strain, the greater the risk of underarm odour.’

      Rose laughed. It practically claimed that no matter how hard she worked, there would be no unpleasant smells. ‘Not too expensive either, Mum. We’ll have a look in the town.’

      Palmolive soap was listed at thruppence ha’penny per bar and Rose decided to buy two or three bars, if possible. Soap had been rationed in February, as fat and oil had been deemed more necessary for food production than for cleanliness.

      ‘I’m sure we has some Lifebuoy soap in the flat. I been saving mine,’ Flora offered. ‘We has to take your coupons for soap, love; iron-clad rules, your dad has.’ She looked at the items heaped on her daughter’s bed. ‘Is there anything left that hasn’t been rationed, love?’

      ‘I expect chocolate, sweets and biscuits will be on the list before long.’

      ‘Best to stock up on what’s available. Your dad hears rumours when he goes to the distribution centres.’

      Rose smiled. ‘Every Saturday since I’ve been old enough for pocket money, I’ve bought a tube of Rolos. Could I survive without them?’

      Flora, who ate few sweets but was, she had to admit, a little too round, looked with affection and a little envy at her tall, slender daughter, who ate everything and anything and yet never gained weight. ‘’Course you could; we gets used to anything after a while, but as it happens there’s some Rolos in the shop and I could put some in a tin for you so they’ll keep.’

      Rose’s wage was not going to be quite as much as she had earned in the factory and so she would be compelled to be more frugal – and she’d have no parents there ready and willing to hand over the odd shilling ‘till the end of the week’.

      She had seen nothing of Stan since she had left the factory and there was an unaccustomed dull ache in her insides. None of the lads fancy me, she told СКАЧАТЬ