Rosie Goes to War Read online

  ‘Dunno. He’s Merchant Navy, not regular. It’s more dangerous, you know. The Merchants are trying to keep us supplied, but the bloody U-boats keep going after them.’ She’s quiet for a bit. Then she looks all serious and says, ‘I have nightmares sometimes. I’m scared he won’t come home. We’ve already lost our mum. What will we do if we lose him too?’

  I want to hug her. She looks so sad. ‘He’s going to be all right,’ I say. ‘I know he will.’

  ‘No you don’t,’ she says. ‘Only God knows, and he ain’t letting on. But thanks for trying to cheer me up anyway. Now, there’s a bit of space for your bits and bobs. Nelly cleared out the top drawer of that chest, and there’s a couple of hangers spare in the wardrobe if you want to hang anything up.’

  ‘OK, thanks.’ I wait for her to go, but she sits on the bed.

  ‘What have you got then? Let’s see your clothes. I don’t suppose you brought an overall for work, did you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say. I can’t remember seeing one. I pick up the case and put it on the bed next to her. She’s looking at me a bit funny. ‘I – er, my gran packed for me,’ I lie. ‘I don’t know what she put in here.’

  May’s face clears. ‘Well get it open then, let’s have a butchers. I love seeing what other people have got. Nelly says I’m right nosy, but I just think it’s really interesting. Don’t worry, it won’t bother me if you’ve got something I ain’t.’

  I open the case, bracing myself for the mothballs, but it smells all right, like the clothes have just been washed. It’s definitely the same case, but everything is neatly packed, not just stuffed in like it was when I shut it and carried it out of Gran’s kitchen. The papers and gas mask box are on the top. I put them on the dressing table, then take out the pretty blue cardigan with the pearl buttons.

  ‘That’s nice,’ says May. ‘Did you make it?’

  I laugh. ‘God no. I can’t knit.’

  ‘You’re pulling my leg. Everyone can knit.’

  ‘Not me.’

  ‘Didn’t your mum teach you?’

  ‘She can’t knit either,’ I say. ‘She tried, but she’s useless, which annoys her because some of her friends are really good at it and are always making weird-looking jumpers and throws for their sofas, that sort of thing. I’m glad she can’t. I wouldn’t want to have to wear some of the rubbish those women produce. They look ridiculous if you ask me.’

  ‘So who made that?’ she asks, pointing at the cardigan.

  I shrug. ‘Dunno.’

  I open the drawer May said I could use, and put the folded cardi in. The next thing out of the case is the cotton nightdress.

  ‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ says May, ‘and cosy too. A nice long nightie’s just the thing to keep your bum from freezing.’

  She said it in my day too, and she’s right. It’s flipping cold in here. The nightie and the hot-water bottle should keep me warm. I wonder when Gran had central heating installed. Probably not for decades yet.

  ‘Are you two still up?’ Nelly is standing in the doorway. ‘Come on, it’s nearly three o’clock. We’ve got to be up at six. Get to bed.’ She turns and heads for the door of what I know as Gran’s bedroom.

  ‘’Night, Nelly,’ May calls after her. ‘Sleep tight.’

  Nelly ignored her and shut the door.

  ‘Is she always this rude?’ I ask, feeling bad for May.

  ‘She gets a bit grumpy when she’s tired, that’s all.’

  ‘Have we really got to get up at six?’

  ‘Yeah, so we’d better do like Nelly says and get some sleep.’ She stands up, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. ‘I’m just next door if you need anything, Queenie.’

  I realise that ‘next door’ is where Gran’s bathroom is. I wonder where the bath is in 1940, but I’m too tired to care.

  ‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Night, night,’ she says as she leaves, shutting the door behind her.

  I turn and look at the open case. I start to empty it and put everything away, but then wonder whether I should leave it. After all, I might not be here long. With any luck I’ll wake up at Gran’s, when I should be. I just hope I don’t wake up sharing a bed with Great-aunt Eleanor!

  I think about sneaking down to the hall mirror to see if I can get it to send me back, but the stairs are creaky and they’ll know I’m there and think I’m trying to do a runner – which I am, really. But I’m so tired and it’s freezing, so I leave half the stuff in the case, move it onto the floor, turn off the light and crawl into bed with the hot-water bottle.

  Even that’s a weird experience. There’s no big fluffy duvet like I’m used to. Instead, the sheets are freezing and the couple of thin, scratchy blankets don’t seem to help at all. I lie there shivering, hugging the hot-water bottle.

  When May brought me in here, for a second – just a second – I saw the lemon-painted walls and cream carpet from Gran’s. I tried to sneeze, to see if it would get me back there. But I just went dizzy again and here I am, stuck in a freezing bedroom with more of that awful brown lino on the floor. It’s funny, I never liked that lemon colour scheme, but I really miss it now.

  I roll over and punch the pillow. I’m still not sure how I got here, but I’m beginning to realise this is definitely more than just a dream. But there’s nothing I can do about it. All I can do is wait and see, and hope like mad I can get back to real life soon.

  I wonder if I’m dead but haven’t realised. I know it sounds really stupid, but maybe I really died when I got knocked out, and that’s why I woke up in this weird place. I hope not. I don’t want to be stuck here for ever and ever.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I swear Nelly enjoys seeing people suffer. I barely slept anyway, and I’d just dozed off when she was shaking me awake.

  This morning has been dead embarrassing actually. I got stroppy with Nelly for waking me up, because I was dreaming I was back at home. So when she woke me up it was like she’d dragged me back to the past again, and I was so upset I told her to ‘eff off’ – only I used the full word, which I don’t usually. But I couldn’t help myself.

  ‘Don’t you use that language in this house,’ she’d said, ‘or I’ll wash your filthy mouth out with carbolic.’

  I could see she meant it, even though I have no idea what carbolic is. It’s bound to be something horrible.

  ‘Bloody leave me alone,’ I said, turning away from her.

  Well, Nelly wasn’t having that. She grabbed the bedclothes and pulled them off me. It was so flipping cold, I screamed. Then May came running in, wanting to know what all the fuss was about.

  Anyway, it wasn’t a good start to the day, so let’s leave it at that. I got up in the end because I didn’t have any choice. There was a bowl of watery porridge waiting for me downstairs – no sugar of course – and some of that weird-tasting tea. Apparently, it’s the ‘sterilised milk’ that makes it so strange. I think it’s like UHT milk, but as we don’t use that at home I have no idea whether it tastes the same.

  Then, I had to wash at the kitchen sink, using the foulest-smelling soap I’ve ever encountered. It’s called Wright’s Coal Tar Soap – honestly. Just don’t ask, because I have no idea. The smell is almost as bad as mothballs.

  I completely forgot about cleaning my teeth last night. I suppose, when you think you’re going to die, it sort of becomes a low priority. This morning I discovered there’s no toothpaste, so I had to clean my teeth with some weird powder I found in the suitcase. The toothbrush with it is made of wood and has real bristles. Honestly, it was like putting an old garden broom in my mouth. It was horrible. I’d have given anything for my electric toothbrush and a tube of Aquafresh.

  I had to ask May what I should wear for working in a factory. Well, I don’t know, do I? I’m just glad that May was around, because Nelly isn’t talking to me. I suppose I’ll have to apologise to her soon, but she doesn’t make it easy. She’s just as cross and disapproving now as she will be in the
future.

  Maybe I should try to get her to lighten up a bit. Or would that amount to messing with the future?

  So, now we’re on our way to work. It’s still dark, and the street lights are off, so I’ve got to make sure I stay close to the girls or I’ll lose them. Thank God I found some flatter shoes in the case, and some nice tailored charcoal wool trousers (high waist though, I’m not used to that), a cream cotton blouse and a dark red jumper. I don’t have a big coat, just the suit jacket, but the girls are moving fast, so I’m getting pretty warm almost running to keep up with them. My gas mask box is slung over my shoulder and it’s banging against my hip. I’ll probably end up with a bruise. I don’t suppose they’ll have any arnica gel for it. Mum’s always got some homeopathic stuff for whatever’s wrong with us. Dad calls it mumbo-jumbo, but she swears by it even when he’s going on about it having no proven scientific effect.

  ‘Hurry up, Queenie,’ says May. ‘If you don’t get a move on we’ll miss the bus.’

  ‘How much further is it?’ I ask, trying to hold the box against me so it doesn’t keep hitting me.

  ‘Just round the corner.’

  I’m almost jogging as we round the corner and – oomph! I run straight into someone, a big someone, banging my nose on hard brass buttons in the middle of his chest. A pair of arms grab me to stop me from bouncing off him and onto my backside.

  ‘Sorry, Miss. Didn’t see you there.’

  I look up – and it’s a long way I can tell you – into the face of a soldier. He’s fairly young, I think, although his voice is quite deep and he’s very tall. It’s still too dark to see all his face clearly, but his smile is quite nice.

  ‘That’s all right,’ I say, smiling back at him. I don’t usually smile at strangers, but there’s something about this guy. I suppose it’s because he saved me from falling over, and he’s so solid. He seems familiar, like I’ve seen him on telly or something, which is stupid. But I don’t have time to think about it because May’s beside me.

  ‘Come on, the bus is coming!’ she says, grabbing my arm. ‘Morning, Jock. Can’t stop, we’re late.’

  ‘Morning, May. Who’s your friend?’

  May is dragging me towards the stop where Nelly and a queue of other people are about to get on the bus. ‘Her name’s Queenie,’ she calls over her shoulder. ‘New machinist, been billeted with us. See you later.’

  ‘Yeah, all right. You take care. Ta’ra.’

  He waved and disappeared round the corner.

  ‘Who’s that?’ I ask May.’

  ‘Just Jock. His nan lives over the road from us. He’s always round our way.’

  ‘He’s quite fit.’

  May looks at me a bit strange. ‘Of course he’s fit. He’s a blooming soldier.’

  ‘I mean he looks nice.’

  ‘Well why didn’t you say that?’ May shakes her head. ‘You do talk daft, Queenie. But yeah, he is nice, I suppose. Bit boring though. I like my fellas to have a bit of spark about them. Come on, before the clippie rings the bell.’

  I get on the bus, May follows right behind me. ‘Go on upstairs. We always sit up top.’ I climb up and look round for Nelly. I can barely see through the fog of cigarette smoke. Ugh, that is so disgusting. I can’t believe nearly everyone is smoking. Don’t they know it’ll kill them?

  Downstairs a bell tinkles and the bus moves off. I nearly lose my balance, but manage to get into the seat next to Nelly without making a complete idiot of myself. May brushes past me, knocking my gas mask box onto my lap as she heads for the seat in front of us.

  I look around. Everyone’s bundled up in heavy winter coats, mainly black, brown, or grey. The only colour is from the posters glued to inside of the bus – adverts for tooth powder, cod liver oil tablets, cigarettes and snuff (what the hell is snuff?). There are propaganda posters too. “Careless Talk Costs Lives” – I’ve seen that one in a museum.

  ‘What’s the matter with you?’ Nelly asks, seeing me craning my neck to look at everything. ‘Don’t you have buses in the country?’

  So she’s decided to talk to me. ‘Of course we do.’

  A waft of cigarette smoke makes me cough. I wave a hand in front of my face.

  ‘Bet you don’t get on them though, do you?’ she says.

  ‘Yes I do, actually. I get the bus to school, and into town sometimes.’ When I can’t get a lift off my mum, or Jessica’s mum that is. Buses are a pain – we hardly get any through our village, except the school bus, which is full of stupid kids.

  ‘So why are you looking like you’ve swallowed a lemon? Our buses not good enough for you, Miss Posh?’

  ‘I told you, I’m not posh. It just that you can’t smoke on our buses, that’s all.’

  ‘Can’t smoke on buses? Well I never heard anything like it. Next you’ll be telling me they don’t let a chap have a puff with his pint at the pub.’

  I open my mouth and then shut it again. She wouldn’t believe me if I told her.

  ‘Did you hear that, May? Folks can’t smoke on the buses in the country.’

  ‘God help us,’ said a man sitting across the aisle from us. ‘You’d need a good strong tobacco to cover the smell out there. Blooming stink they do, all them cows and pigs.’

  ‘It’s not like that,’ I start to say, but no one’s interested because the ticket collector has arrived. I panic before I remember I found a purse with some money in my suitcase. I pull it out of my jacket pocket and have a look inside. Oh, my, God. I don’t recognise any of the coins in there. And are those bits of paper real money? I peek at Nelly, trying to see what she’s getting out of her purse.

  ‘It’s thrupence to Whitechapel,’ she says.

  ‘Thrupence?’ What’s that?

  Nelly rolls her eyes. ‘Three pence. See? Coppers. Pennies.’ She holds up three large coins. They are brown and huge, not at all like normal pennies.

  ‘Oh, right.’ I rummage round in the purse and find three coins, but they are a bit smaller.

  ‘God help us. Those are ha’pennies, stupid. You need three more of them if you haven’t got any pennies, or a thrupenny bit.’

  ‘Like this one,’ says May, twisting round in her seat and holding up a funny-looking little coin, about the size of a modern penny, but thicker and with lots of little straight edges.

  I look again and find one. A three pence coin. ‘How weird is that?’ I mutter to myself. But of course, Nelly has to hear me, doesn’t she?

  ‘Anyone would think you ain’t never seen English money before,’ she says.

  ‘You ain’t one of them foreign spies we’ve all been warned about, are you?’ It’s the man across the aisle again.

  ‘What?’ I say. My voice is squeaky. It feels like everyone is looking at me. Oh crap, I must look really guilty – I can feel my face going red. ‘No, of course not,’ I’m nearly shouting. ‘I’m from Wiltshire. It isn’t smelly there and I want to go home.’

  The man laughs. ‘All right, keep your hair on, love. Can’t you take a joke?’

  I can feel Nelly’s disapproval as I give the man an embarrassed smile.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘I’m just not used to getting up so early.’

  ‘I thought all you country types got up at the crack of dawn.’

  ‘Only the farmers,’ I say. But he’s lost interest. The ticket collector reaches us and we all pay our fares.

  I subside into my thoughts, ignoring everyone else. I’m really worried about being away from Gran’s house. It’s too dark to see where we’re going, so I have no idea how to get back there. What if I miss my chance to get back to my own time because I’m not at the house? I’m assuming, from my limited experience of watching the odd sci-fi programme like Stargate and stuff, that there’s a portal at the house and I fell through it when I sneezed and tripped in those bloody awful shoes. To get back, I need to find it again, hopefully in the same place, at the right time. Whatever time that is.

  The portal must have closed behind me last night, or I would
have been able to go straight back. And this morning, we all walked through the hall to the front door and I tried sneezing. Nothing. Maybe I can’t find it when there’s someone with me? Perhaps it only works one way? Or it has to be a genuine sneeze? I just don’t know. How scary is that? And what if I end up going further back in time? I could be blowing my nose and land in the flipping Middle Ages. Wasn’t that when they had plagues and witch-burnings and stuff? Oh. My. God. I could be burned at the stake by some superstitious mob. I’m barely getting away with it here; I’d totally not fit in if I go any further back in time.

  Maybe I should tell May and Nelly where I’ve come from. They’ll probably think I’m mad, but who knows? They might believe me. But then again, they might not, and I don’t know what will happen then. Actually, I don’t know what would happen if they do. I’ve got to be careful about spoilers. I can’t tell people about their future in case they try to change it. If they do things differently, the whole world could be affected. I might start fading from all my photos, like Marty McFly in Back to the Future. No, I’ll keep my mouth shut.

  I’m so tired. I let out a huge yawn. I could easily go back to sleep even if I am choking on cigarette smoke on this smelly bus.

  I’m just closing my eyes when Nelly pokes me in the side.

  ‘C’mon, this is our stop.’

  How can she tell? It’s still dark and the windows are all steamed up. I wouldn’t have a clue.

  May is already up and on the move. I follow her, nearly going headfirst down the stairs as the bus stops. There’s barely time to blink when we get off before May and Nelly are steaming down the road. I run to catch up.

  ‘Do you always walk so fast?’ I ask, hoping they’ll take the hint and slow down.

  ‘We can’t be late, or Mr Cohen’ll dock our wages,’ says May, power-walking round the corner.

  ‘At this rate I’m going to be worn out before we start,’ I complain. But they’re not listening. I roll my eyes and speed up, not wanting to lose sight of them. I have no idea where we are now, or how to get back to the house, so without the sisters I’d be in serious trouble.