Rosie Goes to War

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Book: Rosie Goes to War Read Free
Author: Alison Knight
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look at the clothes. They’re all neatly folded, and some of them are wrapped in tissue paper.
    I take out a pretty blue cardigan. I’m careful, because I’m worried it might fall to bits since it’s been in that suitcase for so long. It was obviously hand-knitted, and has some lovely pearl buttons. It feels so soft, but it smells so horrible it makes me cough.
    â€˜Eeoogh, that stinks!’
    â€˜Mothballs,’ says Great-aunt Eleanor, still looking at the papers.
    â€˜They keep the bugs out, love,’ says Gran. ‘These are good quality clothes and mothballs keep ’em safe. Otherwise the moths’ll eat their way through this lot.’
    I shiver at the thought of insects crawling around in the suitcase
    â€˜Right. Nice.’
    I lay the cardigan carefully over the back of a chair, and pick up the next thing – an old-fashioned cotton nightdress. It’s white, with tiny flowers embroidered in pinks and purples around the neckline. It stinks as well, but I turn my head away, and take a deep breath before I hold it up against me. It covers me from neck to toe.
    â€˜Oh, wow! Did people really wear stuff like this?’ I ask.
    Gran smiles and nods. ‘Ah, that’s lovely,’ she says. ‘And cosy too. We didn’t have no central heating back then. A nice long nighty was just the thing to keep your bum from getting frostbite.’
    â€˜Gran!’ I laugh. What is she like?
    â€˜Well, it’s true. Blooming freezing, this old house was. We had big candlewick dressing gowns too, and bed socks. Didn’t we, Nell?’
    â€˜Mmm?’ Great-aunt Eleanor was busy studying the papers, but looked up when Gran said her name. ‘Bed socks. Yes.’
    She’s staring at me again. I feel cold all of a sudden. I turn round and stuff the nightdress back into the case.
    Gran tuts. ‘No, come here, Rosie. Don’t do it like that, love. Let me fold it proper.’ She picks it up and sorts it out. But before she puts it back she gets all the other stuff out. ‘You should try some of these on.’ She picks up a tweed skirt, shakes the creases out and passes it to me. ‘I reckon they’re about your size.’
    I hold the skirt against me. It’s a lot longer than I usually wear, ending below my knees.
    â€˜An excellent idea,’ says Great-aunt Eleanor. ‘I believe the fashion these days is for “retro.”’ She makes quote marks in the air. ‘Your grandmother will be able to style your hair as well.’
    Gran nods, clapping her hands together. ‘Ooh, yes! I used to love hairdressing, didn’t I, Nelly? With all that long dark hair, I can give you some really fancy do’s. It’ll be fun.’
    I’m not so sure. This feels freaky. ‘Actually, it’s vintage.’ I say. ‘And it’s not my sort of thing, thanks.’
    Gran looks disappointed, making me feel mean. I really don’t want to play dressing up with a load of old clothes. But I don’t want to upset Gran either. Great-aunt Eleanor just looks annoyed.
    â€˜Nonsense,’ she says. ‘Just about everything you young girls wear these days is a copy of fashions your mothers wore in the 60s and 70s. You might at least try these on.’
    I want to stick my tongue out at her for real now, but don’t dare. Instead, I bite my lip. It just feels wrong, that’s all.
    â€˜You don’t have to if you don’t want to, love,’ says Gran, making me feel even worse. What else can I do?
    â€˜Oh, all right,’ I say. ‘I’ll give it a go.’
    Immediately, Gran cheers up, and old Nelly nods, satisfied. I pick up a pale pink blouse to go with the skirt. With any luck they won’t fit.
    The skirt and blouse do fit, perfectly. I can’t believe it. I go and show the old women, trying not to gag as I get a waft of Eau de Mothballs as I move. They’re in the kitchen, brewing more tea.

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