The Ocean Liner

Hertfordshire

The car pulled up in front of the big white mansion. Rosemary didn’t want to get out, but Daddy said, ‘I’m not in the mood to argue with you, Rosemary,’ and she knew that tone of voice, which always made her shrink inside. She got out of the car and looked around her.

She didn’t really like the countryside. She didn’t understand it, with its silence and its emptiness and the way people fussed about things like the view and the trees and cows. And she’d been crying all the way from London and she couldn’t see very much because her eyes were all swollen. But when Daddy said, ‘Isn’t this grand?’ Rosemary nodded and said it was grand.

Daddy held her hand as they went into the house. It smelled like all the schools she had been to, of floor polish and cooking and the rubber boots lined up in the hallway. The smiling nun took them to see the Mother Superior in her office.

‘This is Rosemary,’ Daddy said.

Mother Isabel took one look at Rosemary and asked, ‘Have you been crying, Rosemary?’

Rosemary didn’t say anything but Daddy said, ‘She’s having a very emotional time lately. I’m afraid we’ve been asking far too much of her. Engagements, appearances, dances. The embassy is a very public place. The press never leave her alone. There’s a lot of pressure.’

Mother Isabel nodded sympathetically. She was old but you could tell right away she wasn’t one to be messed around with. ‘Oh yes. Of course, Rosemary’s face is already familiar to us from the newspapers. It’s natural that they would take an interest in such a lovely young woman, but the attention must be difficult.’

‘Very difficult.’

‘Your life will be much quieter here, Rosemary,’ Mother Isabel said, touching Rosemary on the shoulder. ‘You’ll find it very much more peaceful than London. But I promise you won’t be lonely or bored here.’

‘I don’t want to be here,’ Rosemary sobbed. ‘I want to be with Daddy.’

Mother Isabel had a box of Pond’s tissues on her desk, perhaps because a lot of people cried in this room. She pulled one out with a little pop and gave it to Rosemary to staunch the tears that were pouring down her cheeks. ‘Daddy will be only an hour’s drive away.’

‘I’ll see you every weekend, Rosie.’

‘And you’ll be much safer here than in London,’ Mother Isabel went on, ‘now that the war has started.’

‘I don’t want to be in school any more,’ Rosemary said in a loud wail.

Mother Isabel opened her eyes very wide. ‘Oh, but my dear, you’re not in school any more. Belmont House is a teacher training college. Didn’t you know that?’

‘You’re going to be a teacher, Rosie,’ Daddy said. ‘It’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?’

Rosemary stared at her shoes but she stopped crying.

‘It’s the start of a new life for you,’ Daddy said. ‘No more stress. No more strain.’

‘We’ll expect you to work hard,’ Mother Isabel said. ‘But we find that working with children is one of God’s gifts. There is no more rewarding occupation. Your father tells me that you love children?’

Rosemary sniffled. ‘Yes.’

‘All those who love children are loved by them in return,’ Mother Isabel said. ‘But there are some individuals who are blessed with a special gift, because they are especially close to childhood. Something tells me that you are one of these, Rosemary.’

She looked up at last, blotting her nose. ‘I do love children.’

Mother Isabel smiled in a way that reminded Rosemary of the statues of Mary. ‘It’s a sacred love. It’s not like any other kind of love. It’s pure. Divine. Other kinds of love can bring us pain. They can bring us to sin, terrible sin, mortal sin. But God’s divine love can wash away that sin. And God’s love is so often channelled through His little ones. Do you understand, Rosemary?’

Rosemary knew that Mother Isabel was talking about Cubby. She felt her mouth twist into a sullen shape. She missed Cubby terribly. And he hadn’t even written. She groped in her pocket for her cigarettes and put one in her mouth.

‘We don’t allow smoking at Belmont House,’ Mother Isabel said, her voice changing slightly, just enough to show that she was displeased. ‘We’ll have to ask you to get rid of that particular habit.’

‘Perhaps you might make an exception for Rosie,’ Daddy said quickly. ‘She finds the habit very relaxing. Maybe she could be allowed to smoke in the garden? I know she’d appreciate that dispensation. And I’d be personally very grateful.’

Mother Isabel thought about that for a moment. ‘Very well,’ she said, folding her hands. ‘We don’t want to impose unnecessary hardships on Rosemary. But not in the building, if you please.’ She took the cigarette from Rosemary’s lips deftly and dropped it in the wastepaper basket. ‘Your father tells me you will soon have your twenty-first birthday.’

Rosemary nodded, looking longingly at the cigarette which lay in the trash.

‘We’ll arrange something special for that. It won’t pass unmarked.’ She pressed a bell on her desk. ‘I’m going to ask Sister Clare to show you around while your father and I have a little talk.’

But while they waited for Sister Clare, Mother Isabel and Daddy started their little talk anyway, with their voices lowered, as though she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

‘Now, Mother Isabel,’ Daddy said, ‘you just let me know how I can help you here at Belmont House. I’d like to show my gratitude in any way I can.’

‘We always need help, Mr Kennedy. I could give you a list as long as your arm.’

Daddy stuck his hand out, grinning. ‘As you can see, I have long arms, Mother Isabel.’

Mother Isabel laughed. Daddy was tall. ‘Well, let’s see whether Rosemary is going to be happy here.’

‘I have a feeling that Rosemary is going to be very happy here.’

‘Belmont House is a happy place, Mr Kennedy. Our Benedictine brothers say Ora et Labora.’

‘“Pray and work”.’

‘Exactly. We believe that work is the best kind of prayer. We also believe that keeping young people fully occupied is the best way to keep them on the straight and narrow and avoid divagations into sin.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘For a young woman with Rosemary’s difficulties – and perhaps weaknesses as well – filling every hour of every day is of the utmost importance. It keeps the mind occupied. And the influence of children cannot be overestimated. They guide us surely and effortlessly to God. Their innocence is often the best medicine for a guilty heart, and their laughter the best medicine for a heavy one.’

‘Amen to that. I have nine, myself.’

‘Needless to say, you may rest easy that here at Belmont House, Rosemary will be well protected from the outside world. She will not be receiving any’ – Mother Isabel glanced at Rosemary – ‘callers such as you would not wish her to receive.’

‘That’s very important to us.’

‘May I ask how serious the – ah – problem was?’

‘It seems they were seeing each other as often as they could.’

‘By seeing each other you mean—’

‘All the way, yes.’

‘And emotionally?’

‘Well,’ Daddy said, also glancing at Rosemary, ‘she doesn’t have the emotional capacity for very deep feelings. I think it was more physical than anything else. She’s not a child any more, if you get my point.’

‘I do, indeed. You may feel that the damage has been done, in that regard. But our experience is that there is no damage which cannot be healed. We’ll get her mind off’ – she waved her hand – ‘certain topics. And we’ll direct her thoughts to higher ones. Whatever can be keeping Sister Clare?’ She pressed the bell again.

‘Her mother and I are also concerned about her weight,’ Daddy said, looking at Rosemary critically. ‘She’s much too fond of sweet things. She’s gotten herself much too fat. It attracts unwanted attention. We’re hoping you can do something about that.’

‘We certainly can. We’ll make sure—’

But Rosemary never got to hear the rest of that, because the smiling nun finally appeared and took her off to tour the school. As soon as she was out of Mother Isabel’s office, she lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. The nun’s smile faded.

‘What are you looking at?’ Rosemary demanded.