On a Wing and a Prayer. Ruby Jackson
for the gallant boy who died trying to do his duty.’
Rose was speechless. The secretary saw the colour drain from her face and shouted in time for Mr Salveson to catch Rose before she fell to the floor. He lowered her into a chair and gestured to his secretary to fetch a glass of water, which he held to Rose’s lips.
She pushed it away. ‘Dead? He died?’
‘Yes, one of our stringers heard about it. The housekeeper at Silvertides told us how you ran with it. Seems his lordship had to go back to London before he could talk to you.’
Rose forced herself to stand up. ‘I’d like to go home now, Mr Salveson.’
‘We need an interview,’ said the reporter.
‘No,’ said Rose quietly, and looked at her employer.
‘Are you sure, Rose? People should hear about your courage.’
Courage? What courage had she needed to run a few miles with a letter? The boy, the dead boy, had had courage. ‘I won’t talk to the press, Mr Salveson, and the hooter’s gone.’
‘You heard her, Porter. Miss Petrie doesn’t seek publicity. I’ll drive you home, Rose. I can see you’ve had a bit of a shock.’
‘No, thank you, Mr Salveson. I’ll be fine with Stan Crisp. He’ll see me home.’
The disgruntled reporter left angrily and Rose went to catch her friend, Stan, before he headed off in the opposite direction. Really she wanted to be alone, but she could not be sure that the reporter would not follow her. If he did, she knew that Stan would not allow him to bother her. She did not tell him the whole truth, merely that she felt faint and would feel better if he was with her.
She always felt better when Stan was there.
May 1942
‘Stan, won’t you please come to the spring dance with me?’
Stan looked across the table at Rose and sighed.
‘Stan?’ she persisted unhappily.
‘Yes? Sorry, Rose, I thought you were going to ask someone else. Charlie’s a good dancer. Why don’t you ask him?’
‘I have asked, and everyone is either working that night or has already got a partner.’ She looked down at her hands, afraid to meet his eyes. ‘Why do none of them ever ask me out?’ She smiled then, thinking that she might have found the answer. ‘Is it because they think we’re an item?’
Rose, Daisy and Stan had started school on the same day and had been friends ever since. Rose and Stan had always been particularly close, and Stan’s grandmother, with whom he had lived since his parents had died in a flu epidemic, always referred to Stan and Rose as the perfect couple.
‘Now that we’re grown up, we’ll have to ask your granny to stop matchmaking.’
Stan looked around the room, as if hoping he might find an answer to her question written on one of the walls of the ancient tavern. He straightened his backbone. ‘It’s not Gran, Rose. Can I tell you the truth?’
‘I’ve got bad breath? For goodness’ sake, Stan, what is it?’
‘You scare everyone to death, pet, simple as that. Blokes don’t want to be second best – all the time.’
‘Scare everyone, me? How? And if I do scare everyone,’ she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm and throbbing with hurt, ‘why don’t I scare you?’ She stood up as if to leave.
‘Sit down, Rose,’ said Stan gently, and he pulled in her hand. ‘Maybe I should have said something years ago, but I like you just the way you are, and…’ he hesitated for a moment and then jumped in, ‘more importantly, I know that the right man for you will love you just as you are.’
‘Thank you very much, I’m sure.’ Rose felt physically sick. Stan, her oldest friend, the man she had got so used to being with – what was he saying?
‘Rose—’ he began, but she gave him no time.
‘The right man?’ she repeated angrily. ‘The right man? Not you, then. So will you please tell me what’s wrong with me? Ivy Jones has dated every man in Dartford and she hasn’t a single brain cell in her fluffy little head.’
‘She knows how to talk to lads—’
‘And I don’t,’ she interrupted him. ‘I’ve been talking to lads since I first opened my mouth.’
‘You talk like you’re a lad, Rose; comes of having three brothers.’
Rose looked at him quizzically; she did not understand what he was saying.
‘You want me to pretend that I know nothing about football? And I mustn’t be caught changing a tyre on my dad’s van? If that’s the case, why is it that every single last one of our friends has been more than happy to have me change tyres, replace fan belts, cheaper than the local garage…? I could go on.’
Damn. He had hurt her and he could think of nothing to say that would improve the situation, but he was her friend and he tried. ‘You run faster, jump further, climb higher, swim better; dash it, Rose, if they let girls play football you’d be everyone’s favourite centre-half, and more than one of us has said as how Sally isn’t the only girl in our class as could’ve gone to a university. And now your picture’s been in the paper about trying to save that dispatch rider. My gran was hurt you didn’t tell her so she could buy the paper. But never mind that; you had your reasons for keeping it quiet. That was just like you, Rose. That’s what I mean. The things you do. Nobody measures up, Rose. We all love you, but you’re too good for any of us. You should join up, you should, and have a chance to meet other men. I’m going to enlist as soon as I can; still got to convince my gran.’
She looked at him in astonishment. ‘One, there isn’t a picture in the paper because I told the reporter to go away.’ She took out her hankie, a very pretty one that her friend Sally Brewer had given her last Christmas, and blew her nose. ‘And two, what do you mean, enlist? Why? You’re doing war work – have been since you were fifteen.’
‘Not enough, not when there’s lads out there willing to get killed for us; lads like your dispatch rider, and your brothers. And you talked about it, Rose, before Daisy went.’
‘I can’t compete with Daisy. Are you scared of her too?’
Stan ran his fingers through his hair in obvious exasperation. ‘Maybe if I hadn’t left school at fourteen I’d have learned the words to explain. It’s not just the things you’re good at; it’s more than that, but I can’t say exactly. But somewhere there’s the right bloke, Rose – maybe in Dartford, maybe in London; maybe, like for Daisy, in one of the foreign countries. Hanging around with me won’t help you find him.’ A huge grin creased his pleasant face and he punched the air with his hand. ‘League, that’s the word, like football teams. I’m right fond of you, Rose, but I’m not in your league.’
Again Rose got to her feet. She hadn’t really wanted to come to the Long Reach Tavern as it was unpleasantly close to where the motorcyclist’s accident had occurred, but it had always been one of the favourite places of their intimate group and she would have found not wanting to go difficult to explain. ‘I want to go home, Stan. Expecting a letter from Sam or Grace. Don’t enlist without telling me, will you?’
‘I won’t,’ he said – but behind his back he had his fingers crossed.
Rose’s heart seemed to feel a slight pang. For the first time in their relationship, he was unable to meet her eyes. ‘You won’t tell me, or you have enlisted already?’
‘I wanted to tell you first thing but the right words wouldn’t come.’