barrier, out on to the concourse. ‘So we could get a special licence. Chloe, I have a fortnight’s leave. We could go and stay in a hotel, as man and wife.’
‘Stay in a hotel?’ Chloe’s pale face flushed. ‘Alex, I don’t think my mother–’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Chloe, you’re grown up! It doesn’t matter about your mother! If you want to marry me–’
‘You know I do. But my father said you’d have to get permission from the colonel.’
‘I’ve spoken to the colonel.’
‘Oh – I see.’ Chloe squared her rounded shoulders, lifting the enormous mound of baby. ‘Alex, I’ve been thinking about names. If it’s a boy, I rather fancy Victor – or maybe Jack, or Frank? If it’s a girl, the names of flowers are pretty. What do you think of Lily?’
‘Let’s wait until the baby’s born.’ Lily, Violet, Poppy – anything, thought Alex, provided it’s not Rose.
Maria didn’t take Rose to meet Mrs Pankhurst or her daughters, to be harangued by harridans who wanted to turn women into men and make them ride astride. There wasn’t time to go to meetings. Everyone was working double shifts, and every day new casualties came in.
More wards at St Benedict’s were cleared for wounded soldiers. The nurses were kept more than busy, learning on the job themselves as well as training volunteers.
But Rose did meet Maria’s sister, who was waiting in the lobby as they came off shift one Wednesday night.
‘Rose, this is Phoebe,’ said Maria. ‘Phoebe – Rose.’
‘Hello, Miss Gower.’ Rose held out her hand.
‘Pleased to meet you, Rose.’ Phoebe Gower grinned. ‘I’ve ’eard all about you. Maria said you was a governess?’
‘Yes, and now I’m going to be a nurse.’ Rose looked at the other girl, and saw she was nothing like Maria. Phoebe had crudely-bleached blonde hair, glittering dark eyes and a knowing grin that was nothing like Maria’s warm, engaging smile.
A short, tight hobble skirt revealed her slender, shapely ankles. A fitted jacket showed off her curvaceous bosom, and a tiny velvet hat sporting a feather at a jaunty angle drew attention to her heart-shaped face.
If she let her hair grow out into its natural brown, and wore clothes that enhanced her shape but didn’t emphasise it, she wouldn’t look half so common, Rose decided – then she blushed. I sound just like my mother she thought, embarrassed.
‘Do you work in a hospital?’ she asked.
‘God in ’eaven, no!’ said Phoebe, shuddering theatrically. ‘No, I couldn’t be doing with none of that. Anythin’ to do with blood an’ guts gives me the creeps.’
She smirked and preened. ‘I’m in the Varieties,’ she continued. ‘I started small, I was in the chorus for a while, but then I ’ad me break. I got me own act now, up the Haggerston Palace Music Hall – ain’t that right, Maria?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Rose saw a spasm flicker across Maria’s pretty face. ‘Phoebe and her friends are doing wonders for recruitment.’
‘Maria means I sings a song or two, shows the blokes me drawers, then they comes up on stage an’ takes the shillin’.’ Phoebe grinned again. ‘Yeah, I might not be much cop at bandagin’ an’ that, but I does me bit. Maria, I was wonderin’–’
‘Yes, you told me.’ Maria turned to Rose. ‘Do you think you could excuse us for a moment? Family business–’
‘Actually, I left my gloves upstairs.’ Rose smiled diplomatically. ‘I’ll just run up and fetch them.’
When she walked back into the lobby, Phoebe and Maria were deep in conversation. ‘You know I hate it when you take that stuff,’ she heard Maria mutter. ‘He shouldn’t make you work so hard, and you should have more sense–’
Then Phoebe noticed Rose and motioned to her sister to be quiet. ‘Got your gloves?’ she chirped, her eyes unnaturally bright.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Rose was blushing, wondering if they’d think she had been trying to listen to what they said.
‘Stay in a hotel?’ Chloe’s pale face flushed. ‘Alex, I don’t think my mother–’
‘Oh, for God’s sake, Chloe, you’re grown up! It doesn’t matter about your mother! If you want to marry me–’
‘You know I do. But my father said you’d have to get permission from the colonel.’
‘I’ve spoken to the colonel.’
‘Oh – I see.’ Chloe squared her rounded shoulders, lifting the enormous mound of baby. ‘Alex, I’ve been thinking about names. If it’s a boy, I rather fancy Victor – or maybe Jack, or Frank? If it’s a girl, the names of flowers are pretty. What do you think of Lily?’
‘Let’s wait until the baby’s born.’ Lily, Violet, Poppy – anything, thought Alex, provided it’s not Rose.
Maria didn’t take Rose to meet Mrs Pankhurst or her daughters, to be harangued by harridans who wanted to turn women into men and make them ride astride. There wasn’t time to go to meetings. Everyone was working double shifts, and every day new casualties came in.
More wards at St Benedict’s were cleared for wounded soldiers. The nurses were kept more than busy, learning on the job themselves as well as training volunteers.
But Rose did meet Maria’s sister, who was waiting in the lobby as they came off shift one Wednesday night.
‘Rose, this is Phoebe,’ said Maria. ‘Phoebe – Rose.’
‘Hello, Miss Gower.’ Rose held out her hand.
‘Pleased to meet you, Rose.’ Phoebe Gower grinned. ‘I’ve ’eard all about you. Maria said you was a governess?’
‘Yes, and now I’m going to be a nurse.’ Rose looked at the other girl, and saw she was nothing like Maria. Phoebe had crudely-bleached blonde hair, glittering dark eyes and a knowing grin that was nothing like Maria’s warm, engaging smile.
A short, tight hobble skirt revealed her slender, shapely ankles. A fitted jacket showed off her curvaceous bosom, and a tiny velvet hat sporting a feather at a jaunty angle drew attention to her heart-shaped face.
If she let her hair grow out into its natural brown, and wore clothes that enhanced her shape but didn’t emphasise it, she wouldn’t look half so common, Rose decided – then she blushed. I sound just like my mother she thought, embarrassed.
‘Do you work in a hospital?’ she asked.
‘God in ’eaven, no!’ said Phoebe, shuddering theatrically. ‘No, I couldn’t be doing with none of that. Anythin’ to do with blood an’ guts gives me the creeps.’
She smirked and preened. ‘I’m in the Varieties,’ she continued. ‘I started small, I was in the chorus for a while, but then I ’ad me break. I got me own act now, up the Haggerston Palace Music Hall – ain’t that right, Maria?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Rose saw a spasm flicker across Maria’s pretty face. ‘Phoebe and her friends are doing wonders for recruitment.’
‘Maria means I sings a song or two, shows the blokes me drawers, then they comes up on stage an’ takes the shillin’.’ Phoebe grinned again. ‘Yeah, I might not be much cop at bandagin’ an’ that, but I does me bit. Maria, I was wonderin’–’
‘Yes, you told me.’ Maria turned to Rose. ‘Do you think you could excuse us for a moment? Family business–’
‘Actually, I left my gloves upstairs.’ Rose smiled diplomatically. ‘I’ll just run up and fetch them.’
When she walked back into the lobby, Phoebe and Maria were deep in conversation. ‘You know I hate it when you take that stuff,’ she heard Maria mutter. ‘He shouldn’t make you work so hard, and you should have more sense–’
Then Phoebe noticed Rose and motioned to her sister to be quiet. ‘Got your gloves?’ she chirped, her eyes unnaturally bright.
‘Yes, thank you.’ Rose was blushing, wondering if they’d think she had been trying to listen to what they said.
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