“What about him?” he wanted to be told. He was getting angry.
“All right, don’t upset yourself,” she said. “You think I’m Rose, don’t you?” she said.
All he could say was “What?”
“Because I’m not, see. She was my half sister.”
“Half sister?”
“Were you very much taken up with her, then?” she enquired, as though making conversation. Probably she did not want to appear too interested, but he was beyond taking in niceties. He began to dry his hands again.
“You’re not,” he said, low voiced.
“Hark at him,” she said with amusement. “Yes, you all fall for it hard.”
“All fall for it?”
“Well you don’t suppose you’re the first, do you? Still, I expect we’re most of us alike, it’s natural after all to consider you’re the only one on earth. That’s something I had to unlearn very early, I can tell you.”
“And James?” Charley asked.
“The widower? Why bless me, no. It would be a bit of a surprise for him, though, wouldn’t it, if I dyed my hair red?”
He was disgusted, and showed it.
“And the name I have is my mother’s,” she added.
He obstinately stared at her.
“It’s not very nice having a double, practically a half twin if you like,” she went on. There had actually been very few to come up to her who had known Rose, but plainly it was not for her to give this away just now. “I’ve had trouble over it, all right. The first time I did listen.” She laughed, and seemed to be going over this in her mind’s eye.
He saw everything a third time. She was a tart, and her father had sent him to redeem Rose because his hands were full at Redham. It was Rose right enough. But how different with the war. The troops must have been the cause? Made brutes out of women, that’s what Middlewitch said.
“I had a time with him,” she commented.
“Who’s that?” he asked, run through with jealousy.
“Here,” she said coming back to Charley. “No names, thanks. No, I consider, being as I am, the dead spit of another, that I’ve a responsibility, I’m not like the common run. But I don’t give names away,” she said, again with what seemed to be pride. “Only my father’s,” she admitted, wryly. “But then what has he done for me to thank him?” she asked. “No, I’m in special case,” she said.
He looked at her. He wondered if, later on, he would be sick all over the carpet.
“I had such a time with the man I mentioned just now that I had to make a rule,” she went on. “To protect myself. I never admitted it again. Or hardly ever. Till you came along. It was your fainting did it.”
“Did what?” he demanded through his nausea.
“Why tricked me into admitting, of course,” she said. “What else?”
“I don’t know what to think,” he brought out, nauseated. Oh how she could, he cried in his mind, his Rose that he’d loved?
“Come as a bit of a shock to you, hasn’t it,” she said. “Take no notice. The first two years are the worst.” She actually laughed.
“Rose, listen here,” he began, with a stronger voice than he had used. But she broke in.
“Look,” she said sharp. “You aren’t sitting pretty here except on one condition. You’ll drop all this Rose stuff, or, if you can’t take it, stay silent. Otherwise out you go, this instant.”
He stayed silent.
“I’m a respectable girl,” she said.
He said nothing.
“Even if I am living alone because my mum’s been evacuated. You ask anyone here. They’ll tell you about us.”
He remembered he had been informed that whores had old women who took the money and who carried the police, got help if need be. She was in that kitchen this minute, most likely.
“Yes it’s a bit awkward in my position,” she began again. “I mean everyone has their own life, that only stands to reason, and here’s me has two, my own and someone else’s.”
He felt she might be trying to tell him she was sorry. He took heart again.
“Yes,” she went on, “I’ve a responsibility. You know why I did what I could for you the last time?” She paused. All he could remember was, she had chucked him out.
“Because this has hit you hard,” she explained. “You never put that faint on, I could tell. So I didn’t send you packing like I should. I’ve a responsibility.”
“A responsibility?” he asked.
“I’ve just said,” she told him. “Although it’s none of my fault, I’ve got to be fair. If a man really mistakes me for another I have to let him down in a decent fashion. I can’t laugh right in his face, not straight off, any old how.”
“I see,” he said.
“You don’t, from the looks of you,” she replied. “Oh all right, take your time. You’ll get used to it. Don’t mind me. Be easy now.”
“Has Mr Grant sent many to you?”
“Here,” she said harsh, “what are you insinuating? I told you before I won’t have his name mentioned, ever again.” He had no recollection of this. He assumed that he must have forgotten, as he had with Mr Grant’s request not to disclose how he got her address.
“I rang him up,” she said. “I told him. ‘This is the first time you’ve done this,’ I said, ‘and let it be the last. Haven’t you been enough trouble all my life?’ I said. ‘And now if you’re to start sending people round, what will the others think? Why I’d be hounded out of these rooms.’”
“What if Ridley came?” he suddenly asked, with the air of a man who has produced the unanswerable, who is bringing the whole house of cards down.
“Her little boy?” she enquired, absolutely unmoved. “You know I’ve often and often wondered. Why, it would be cruel, wouldn’t it?”
“You’ve said it.”
“I’m not too sure I like your attitude,” she complained. “Of course that would be cruel, but not my fault? I can’t help looking as I am, can I? Which is at my father’s door.”
He did not wait to consider this. He must have thought he had her pinned.
“But if Mr Grant sent him?” he asked. His face flushed, and it was plain that he was trying to hold her eyes with his own. She became agitated.
“Why, he’d never,” she cried. “Why, it wouldn’t be right. He’d never dare.” She was truly indignant. “When the little chap thinks his mother’s away with the angels? I dream of it sometimes. Running across him in the street, I mean. Perhaps his grandma takes him up round the shops with her. I often wonder, wouldn’t that be awful if we met. But then it couldn’t be my fault, after all.”
“Whose then?”
“Why my dad’s of course.”
He now realized that she must be out of her mind, which would account for the change in her voice, and manner. He became terribly sad. Oh, this was not the old Rose, at all.
“That’s what makes me do it,” she explained.
“Do what?” he murmured.
“Aren’t some men dense?” she said. “You don’t suppose I’m talking to you, like I do, because I’ve nothing better, surely? I’m a working woman. I wouldn’t want to offend, of course. But as I told you before, I consider I have a duty by you and the others. Only when you said that my dad sent you, then I had to turn round at once. You see that surely?”
He felt he had best humour her.
“Yes,” he said.
“And you seemed to take it so hard I was sorry for you, and here we are,” she said.
He had a wave of self pity.
“It’s affected my work,” he muttered.
“You don’t want it to do that,” she said. “You see, I’ve thought more about this than you can ever. If you like to put it that way, I’ve been brought up with the problem. It’s chance, that’s all, nothing more than bad luck. I’ve known since I was sixteen.”