On a Wing and a Prayer. Ruby Jackson

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СКАЧАТЬ could not understand what Stan had tried to tell her. ‘Not in her league’, indeed. What a load of old tripe. Was it possible that Stan had palled with her because no one fancied him? No, Stan wasn’t like that. She had written to Daisy about it and Daisy had tried to console her.

      You and Stan have been friends for ever and friendship is very important. He does love you and I think you love him the same way, as a dear and special friend. Don’t let go of that, Rose. Tomas is my friend, but our love for each other is so much more than that and you’ll know it when it comes. It’s like being run over by a Spitfire, knocks you for six. Absolutely wonderful.

      ‘Thanks a lot, Daisy, I don’t think,’ Rose had said angrily, and got on with her packing.

      It was young George who brought her news of Stan. She had gone down to Central Park for a last walk round and bumped into her foster brother on his way home.

      ‘Got a letter for you, Rosie,’ he had said with a cheeky grin.

      ‘Rose, not Rosie, you horrible little boy – and how come you’ve got a letter for me?’

      George had lived with the Petries since his mother and brother had been killed in an air raid. Nothing had been heard from his layabout father since and, frankly, no one missed him. The two years of regular food and sleep, plus affection and guidance, meant that the boy was completely at ease with all the Petries, and he merely laughed. They walked along together companionably while he searched through his pockets. ‘Got it last night but you was in bed when I got back from the pictures and you was up before me this morning. Now where can it be?’

      ‘If this is some kind of a horrible boy joke, I will tie you to my—’

      Eventually George hastily pulled out the rather grubby, crumpled envelope before Rose could think of something nasty to do to him. ‘Here,’ he said with a grin. ‘Your chap kissed it lovingly, made me want to be—’

      ‘You have no idea how sick you’ll be if you utter one more word, Georgie Porgie.’

      George was bright in more ways than mathematics and he handed over the letter and walked sedately beside her. ‘Blimey, Rose, you’re not going to wait till we get home. Maybe he wants a quick reply.’

      ‘Then he can wait,’ muttered Rose, and she began to stride out so that, fit as he was, young George was no match for her speed and had to trot to keep up as they rushed home.

      Once inside, Rose hurried up the stairs that led from the family shop and from the back door she called, ‘I’ll be there in a minute, Mum,’ and went into her bedroom, closing the door behind her. She flopped into the old chair that had worn the same flowered cotton cover for as long as she could remember. For a few years she and Daisy had been able to sit in it together comfortably, but as they’d grown they’d had to take turns – one in the chair, the unlucky one on the bed. Since her twin had gone off to join the ATA, Rose had been able to make constant use of the chair, which made her miss her sister more than ever.

      ‘Well, let’s see what Stan has to say, Daisy,’ she said aloud.

      The letter had been written the day before and had Stan’s Dartford address on it.

      Dear Rose,

      I have joined the army. I’m the lowest of the privates in The Queen’s Own Royal West Kent Regiment. I never meant to hurt you, never. You’re my best friend, have been since we was five. That’s a long time and I don’t want nothing to spoil it. I love you, Rose, can’t think of another word for what I feel but I do know it’s not the love that you need for marriage. Please write to me because if I’m going overseas…

      Please understand, Rose. I don’t know. Maybe it was them Spitfires sent out to help the people in Malta and every last one of them bombed to bits before they could even get off the ground. Maybe it’s these raids on lovely bits of England. Gran took me on a trip to Bath once – couldn’t believe it was real and now thousands and thousands of buildings is damaged. Gran’s right cross about Bath and about me joining up but I’m making her an allowance, same as I give her now. She’s not old, Rose. I suppose you always think your gran is old but she’s not and the neighbours both sides say they’ll keep an eye on her. She’ll always know where I am. I’ll write to both of you when I can.

      George said as you have joined up too. I bet you’re in the ATS and one day we’ll see you driving all them famous people around London.

      Love,

      Stan

       Oh, Stan, I know, and I love you too.

      There was a PS, but he’d very effectively scored it out. Rose tried to decipher it but could make nothing of it. She got out of the chair and lay down on the bed. Stan was gone, and unless his grandmother had his address she would have to wait until he wrote to her – if he ever did. At least she could get a letter written and Mum or Dad could get the address when Stan’s gran came in for her rations.

      She got up, found her writing pad and started writing.

      Dear Stan,

      I’m ashamed of myself. Imagine falling out over a dance I never really wanted to go to anyway. Stupid.

      You’ll be a great soldier. I am very proud of you and I bet they make you a general. I hope the West Kents have a nice uniform.

      I think I’ll be going away soon too. Don’t worry about your gran. With the neighbours and Mum and Dad, she’ll be all right.

      Please answer this,

      Your friend always,

      Rose

      She stood up, sniffed, wiped her eyes which had gone all teary, tidied her hair and went downstairs to join what was left of her family.

       THREE

       Guildford, Late May 1942

      ‘Think yourselves lucky, girls. When I joined the ATS we were definitely the military’s poorest relation. Some of us were without a uniform for months and had to wear out our own clothes, and I do mean wear out. The ATS is not a stroll in the park. If we were lucky we got a badge. Three years later and you’re getting everything, including your knickers.’

      ‘Which no woman in her right mind would want to wear.’

      ‘Very funny, Petrie, or was it you, Fowler? Maybe they’re not Selfridges’ best but, believe you me, you’ll be glad of them in the winter.’

      Rose, who had been standing quietly among the new recruits or auxiliaries, as ordinary members of the Auxiliary Territorial Service were now called, said nothing but merely waited till she was given her uniform. She had made no remarks, no matter what the commanding officer thought. Her stomach was churning with excitement that she was to be – at long last – an actual servicewoman.

      ‘Hope we have your size, Goldilocks. You’re tall but you’re slim. Any good with a needle?’

      ‘Not very, ma’am, but my mother is.’

      ‘And did you bring Mummy with you?’

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