Beach View Boarding House [04] Where the Heart Lies by Ellie Dean

Author:Ellie Dean [Dean, Ellie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780099574637
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 15796933
Publisher: Arrow
Published: 2013-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

TWO FRAUGHT WEEKS had passed since Anne and her baby had been rushed to hospital, and March had begun with bright skies and brisk winds. Unfortunately, the sunny days and frosty, starlit nights had also brought enemy planes, and both Portsmouth and London had taken a hammering. There had been numerous air-raid warnings in Cliffehaven, and it had become almost commonplace to hear the roar of the RAF planes overhead as they continued to bombard Cologne, Hamburg and Berlin, and defend the English coastline.

Following Churchill’s impassioned speech to Roosevelt, ending ‘Give us the tools, and we will finish the job,’ the American president had finally had his Lend-Lease bill passed. Roosevelt’s speech the previous night had been a real tonic, not least for the local American servicemen, who were frustrated at not playing any part in the hostilities. With the bill passed, it was generally expected that America must surely now enter the war.

On the home front, the new national call-up included all men between the ages of eighteen and forty-one, and women without dependants between the ages of twenty and thirty and, following the heavy losses of shipping, Bevin was asking for another fifty thousand more workers at the docks. It seemed that Hitler’s spring offensive had begun, and the men and women of Great Britain were steeling themselves for the toughest battle of their lives.

Like everyone else in Cliffehaven, Ron had kept abreast of the news and continued to play his part, knowing that even his small effort was needed to win this war. His duties with the Home Guard and the fire-watch team meant he had less time to go into the hills with Harvey, but he still jealously guarded his precious few hours with Rosie each day.

This is the life, he thought as he sat back in the comfortable chair, feet on a stool, cup of tea in his hand and a slab of cake on a plate at his elbow. Rosie’s upstairs parlour was cosy and a little too feminine for his taste, but welcoming all the same, and he felt strangely at home among the chintz and the frills.

It had become an afternoon ritual to share a cup of tea with Rosie after he’d changed the barrels and brought the crates of bottles up from the cellar in preparation for the evening session. He watched her now as she sashayed across her sitting room in her high heels, admiring her long, slender legs and narrow hips, and the curve of her breasts beneath the frothy white blouse. No one knew how old Rosie was, but Ron thought she was about fifty – which he considered a ripe, luscious age when a woman was in her prime and at the height of her self-assurance and sensuality.

He might be in his sixties and considered past it, but by jingo, Rosie could stir the dead. He crossed his legs and tried to concentrate on his cup of tea.

Rosie grinned at him as she kicked off her shoes and curled like a contented cat into the corner of the couch opposite him.

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