Rosie Goes to War Read Free Page B

Gran fusses over me, while Great-aunt Eleanor watches, all narrow-eyed. I pretend not to notice, because she’s freaking me out again. The sooner I can get my jeans back on, the better.
    â€˜Come on then,’ says Gran, ‘Let’s do your hair. It’s a shame I got rid of me old curlers. I could’ve made you look like a film star.’
    I sit on the kitchen chair that Gran has put in the middle of the room and let her fuss. Her hands are a lot stronger than I expect, and I can’t help yelping in pain as she yanks a comb through my hair and sticks it with a shed-load of pins.
    â€˜Sorry, love. Nearly there.’
    â€˜Here,’ says Great-aunt Eleanor. ‘Put these on.’ She kneels down, quite flexible considering how old she is, and slides some shoes onto my feet. Again, a perfect fit. I shiver and the walls of the kitchen wobble for a second then go back to normal. This is getting really weird. Or maybe Gran’s been overdoing the hair pulling a bit and my eyes have gone wonky. I lift up my feet to get a look at the shoes. Black leather, plain like a court shoe, chunky heel. Not my usual style.
    At last Gran is satisfied, and I’m allowed to stand up. The heels on the shoes are quite high, and I wobble a bit as I walk into the hall to look at myself in the big mirror on the coat stand. The silky lining of the skirt rustles against my legs as I move, and the heels make me walk differently. It feels quite sexy.
    The old women follow me. I smile as I imagine walking down a catwalk, with loads of people watching and thinking how gorgeous I am. Yeah, right.
    â€˜Wow!’ I look like someone out of a black-and-white film! My hair, which is usually frizzy as anything, looks great. I put a hand up and feel how smooth it is.
    â€˜That’s a French pleat,’ says Gran. ‘Very elegant.’
    The clothes, which still smell of those awful mothballs, give me some curves. I look about twenty-five, in a vintage, Paloma Faith kind of way.
    Gran and Great-aunt Eleanor crowd behind me at the mirror. But when I look at our reflection, I don’t see two old women. Instead there are two girls, one blonde, one dark, and both are dressed like me. My mouth drops open, I can feel my heart start to race. It’s impossible. It’s like looking through a window, except I can still see myself clearly reflected, right between them.
    â€˜You need a bit of red lipstick,’ says the dark girl.
    I blink. The girls disappear, and Gran’s smiling at me in the mirror where the dark girl stood. Great-aunt Eleanor is glaring at me from where the blonde was. I blink again and for a split second the girls are there, and I want to scream but I can’t, and before I can do anything they morph back into Gran and Eleanor.
    â€˜Ooh, don’t you look lovely!’ Gran coos.
    I’m too shocked to say anything at first, then I just blurt out, ‘Red lipstick?’
    â€˜Yes, love. I used to have a lovely one from Max Factor,’ says Gran. ‘It would’ve been perfect.’
    Great-aunt Eleanor jumps, like she’s had electric shock or something.
    â€˜That’s it!’ says Great-aunt Eleanor. ‘Of course!’
    â€˜Ooh, that’s a good idea,’ says Gran. ‘I might still have some somewhere.’
    I look sideways at Gran. She can’t be serious. I doubt if she’s worn red lipstick in my lifetime. I dread to think what sort of bacteria might be growing on some old tube she’s had for years.
    â€˜Perhaps not,’ I say.
    â€˜Well, if you’re sure?’ she says. ‘I could probably find it.’
    â€˜For goodness sake, May,’ Great-aunt Eleanor snaps.
    I look at her reflection, relieved she’s not gone blonde again. Did Eleanor see the girls as well? Before I get a chance to ask her, she gets a hard look in her eyes and pokes me in the back.
    â€˜Hey!’
    â€˜Nelly!’ Gran looks shocked.
    â€˜I