Read Online After the War Is Over by Jennifer Robson - Free Book Online
Authors: Jennifer Robson
Ads: Link
travel there and back on the tram.”
“But, Miss Rathbone—” Miss Margison protested.
“I am so glad that is settled, ladies,” Miss Rathbone finished, her attention already
turning to the papers on her desk. “Oh—Miss Margison?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Before you leave, if you could fetch me a cup of tea? Thank you.”
Charlotte returned to her office, acutely aware of Miss Margison’s disbelieving stare,
wondering yet again what she had ever done to deserve the other woman’s dislike. She
knew herself to be a decent person, a friendly person, and yet for entirely mysterious
reasons she had earned the enmity of another.
Before the war, she would have forced a confrontation and cleared the air with the
woman, just like that, but something held her back. Everyone had their reasons for
behaving as they did, and one day she would surely figure out what made her odd and
unpleasant colleague behave as she did.
A LL THROUGH SUPPER that evening, Norma entertained them with stories of her day at work. Most seemed
to revolve around customers who were so enthralled by her face and figure that they
abandoned their brains at the door. It would have been worrying if Norma hadn’t been
so funny at the retelling.
“So he said to me, ‘Dearie, why don’t you come round that counter and show me all
those darns in your stockings,’ and I said, ‘Not if I was on a sinking ship and you
was the only lifeboat on the sea.’”
“Oh, Norma. You mustn’t say such things, especially to a stranger. What if he had
taken offense?” chided Miss Margaret.
“Then Joe and Daniel and the rest of the men from the warehouse out back would have
had a talk with him. They don’t let anyone give me guff.”
“Miss Margaret’s right,” Rosie said. “You can’t know what sortof men you’re talking to, and if one of them gets it in his head that you offended
him, and the men from the back aren’t around—”
“Fine, fine. But you wouldn’t believe the sort of things some of them say to me.”
“I would. Trust me, I would. The men I deal with are lying flat on their backs in
hospital beds but they still talk a load of rubbish. Best thing to do is ignore it.”
“I suppose. Say—now that we’ve all finished our tea, does anyone feel like playing
a round of cribbage in the sitting room? Rosie? Charlotte?”
“No, thank you, Norma. I’m feeling rather tired tonight. I think I’ll just read in
my room, if you don’t mind.”
All through supper Charlotte had scarcely said a word, longing only for the meal to
be over so she might crawl into bed, read something comforting, and let the weight
of her long and dispiriting day slide from her shoulders.
After helping Janie clear the table—it was Charlotte’s task to shake out the tablecloth
and fold it away in its drawer—the Misses Macleod and their boarders, all except Charlotte,
moved to the sitting room. It was just across the hall from her bedroom, and even
with both doors shut she could easily hear the conversation and laughter from where
she sat, in her chair by the window, trying to concentrate on her new book. She had
been keen as mustard to read The Return of the Soldier, but tonight, and the night before, too, she hadn’t been able to follow the narrative
for more than a page before losing steam.
She shut her book carefully, using a braided paper bookmark that Lilly had made for
her years ago, and set it aside. Standing, she went to her bureau, intent on fetching
a fresh nightgown.
A knock at her door, then a whispered voice she recognized as Rosie’s. “Charlotte?
Are you in bed?”
“No, not yet. Do come in.”
Rosie shut the door behind her and sat in the chair that Charlotte had just vacated.
“Are you all right?”
“Hard day, that’s all. Ann Margison was at me again.”
“What did she do now? Sprinkle arsenic in your tea?”
“At least that would be cut-and-dried. No, it was
“But, Miss Rathbone—” Miss Margison protested.
“I am so glad that is settled, ladies,” Miss Rathbone finished, her attention already
turning to the papers on her desk. “Oh—Miss Margison?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Before you leave, if you could fetch me a cup of tea? Thank you.”
Charlotte returned to her office, acutely aware of Miss Margison’s disbelieving stare,
wondering yet again what she had ever done to deserve the other woman’s dislike. She
knew herself to be a decent person, a friendly person, and yet for entirely mysterious
reasons she had earned the enmity of another.
Before the war, she would have forced a confrontation and cleared the air with the
woman, just like that, but something held her back. Everyone had their reasons for
behaving as they did, and one day she would surely figure out what made her odd and
unpleasant colleague behave as she did.
A LL THROUGH SUPPER that evening, Norma entertained them with stories of her day at work. Most seemed
to revolve around customers who were so enthralled by her face and figure that they
abandoned their brains at the door. It would have been worrying if Norma hadn’t been
so funny at the retelling.
“So he said to me, ‘Dearie, why don’t you come round that counter and show me all
those darns in your stockings,’ and I said, ‘Not if I was on a sinking ship and you
was the only lifeboat on the sea.’”
“Oh, Norma. You mustn’t say such things, especially to a stranger. What if he had
taken offense?” chided Miss Margaret.
“Then Joe and Daniel and the rest of the men from the warehouse out back would have
had a talk with him. They don’t let anyone give me guff.”
“Miss Margaret’s right,” Rosie said. “You can’t know what sortof men you’re talking to, and if one of them gets it in his head that you offended
him, and the men from the back aren’t around—”
“Fine, fine. But you wouldn’t believe the sort of things some of them say to me.”
“I would. Trust me, I would. The men I deal with are lying flat on their backs in
hospital beds but they still talk a load of rubbish. Best thing to do is ignore it.”
“I suppose. Say—now that we’ve all finished our tea, does anyone feel like playing
a round of cribbage in the sitting room? Rosie? Charlotte?”
“No, thank you, Norma. I’m feeling rather tired tonight. I think I’ll just read in
my room, if you don’t mind.”
All through supper Charlotte had scarcely said a word, longing only for the meal to
be over so she might crawl into bed, read something comforting, and let the weight
of her long and dispiriting day slide from her shoulders.
After helping Janie clear the table—it was Charlotte’s task to shake out the tablecloth
and fold it away in its drawer—the Misses Macleod and their boarders, all except Charlotte,
moved to the sitting room. It was just across the hall from her bedroom, and even
with both doors shut she could easily hear the conversation and laughter from where
she sat, in her chair by the window, trying to concentrate on her new book. She had
been keen as mustard to read The Return of the Soldier, but tonight, and the night before, too, she hadn’t been able to follow the narrative
for more than a page before losing steam.
She shut her book carefully, using a braided paper bookmark that Lilly had made for
her years ago, and set it aside. Standing, she went to her bureau, intent on fetching
a fresh nightgown.
A knock at her door, then a whispered voice she recognized as Rosie’s. “Charlotte?
Are you in bed?”
“No, not yet. Do come in.”
Rosie shut the door behind her and sat in the chair that Charlotte had just vacated.
“Are you all right?”
“Hard day, that’s all. Ann Margison was at me again.”
“What did she do now? Sprinkle arsenic in your tea?”
“At least that would be cut-and-dried. No, it was
Similar Books
