As the Sun Breaks Through

by Ellie Dean

  The five women looked at one another, burst out laughing again and clashed the bottles together in a toast. ‘Here’s to us,’ shouted Gloria. ‘I hear tell a bit of soot is good for the complexion.’

  Ron rolled his eyes and decided to leave them to it. There’d be no sense out of any of them for a while, and if the Anchor was to open at six, then he’d better get washed and changed and be ready to take charge. He leaned over Rosie and kissed her dirty face, delighted that she was feeling more cheerful. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he murmured.

  Ron arrived at Beach View to find it deserted, and stood for a moment at the kitchen window trying to come to terms with the gaping hole that had been left in the terrace on the other side of the twitten. The vagaries of fate never ceased to amaze him, for the bomb had wiped out that house so cleanly, it was as if it had never been there. ‘It just goes to show, Harvey, that if your number’s on it, there’s no escape,’ he muttered.

  He checked on his ferrets, who appeared to be undisturbed by the events of the morning, and found Queenie asleep under his bed. The next hour was spent washing himself and Harvey in the bath upstairs. It took another half-hour and most of a tub of Vim to get the stubborn black scum off the white enamel and mop up dog hairs and splatters from the walls and floor where Harvey had shaken himself vigorously. Peggy would blow a fuse if she knew what he’d done, but using the bath had saved water in the long run, and as long as he cleaned up properly, she’d never need to know.

  Having tended to Harvey’s paws, he fed him and Queenie and then left him to dry out in a patch of sunlight in the garden whilst he stoked the range fire to reheat the water. Everyone would need a bath when they got home, and the laundry would soon be piling up.

  He got dressed in his smart clothes so he’d be ready to run the bar if Rosie was under the weather – which was quite likely – but he didn’t begrudge her, and actually felt a twinge of remorse at having forgotten to sweep that chimney. It had been merely one item on a long list of things she and Peggy had wanted him to do, and what with one thing and another it had slipped his mind.

  Returning upstairs, his thoughts centred on how he could possibly find more glasses for Rosie. The telephone line was still out, so he couldn’t call his usual pal who could be relied upon for most things that no one else could get; Gloria had already offered a carton of hers, and he had no idea of where else to try. He began to search through Peggy’s cupboards to see if she had any spare, but soon realised he’d be in real trouble if he dared take even one from the precious collection her mother had left her. Shelving the matter for now, he made a tomato sandwich and a pot of tea, and went to sit in the garden to eat his delayed lunch.

  The dark palls of smoke had cleared to reveal a lovely blue sky and bright sun. Unfortunately the acrid stench of burning still remained, and he could see smuts of soot darkening his tomato plants and lettuces. He chose to ignore it all, and once he’d eaten, he closed his eyes, lifted his face to the sun and at last began to relax. There were five hours until opening time, so once he’d had a bit of a kip, he’d walk over to see his eldest son Frank at Tamarisk Bay and then drop in to visit Danuta at the hospital.

  He gave a deep sigh. There were so many people relying on him, so many responsibilities and worries, that there were times when he wished he could just hide away from it all. But Peggy’s shoulders were far too narrow to carry such a burden alone, and although she hid it well, she was constantly tortured by Jim’s precarious situation in Burma, and the fact that her older children were so far away.

  Frank and Pauline were sick with worry over their surviving boy, Brendon, who was at sea with the Royal Naval Reserve taking part in the invasion; Danuta had no other family to turn to whilst she recovered; and both Sarah and Fran were looking to him and Peggy for advice and support as they struggled to decide between two impossibly difficult choices regarding the rest of their lives.

  And then there was little Rita who was putting on a brave face and trying not to show how terrified she was that her father might not make it through from the Normandy beaches – and Ivy, whose family had miraculously survived the Blitz only to be faced with this new and terrifying enemy bombardment on London. He had few answers for any of them, and although he was more than willing to support and console them and make sure they were as safe as they could be, he knew he couldn’t work miracles.

  Unable to rest, he dragged himself out of the deckchair, returned the teapot and plate to the kitchen and then set off for Tamarisk Bay, leaving an exhausted Harvey snoring in his patch of sunlight.

  Peggy realised she was in no fit state to face Nanny Pringle and fetch Daisy from the crèche, and was much relieved when Sarah – who was slightly less tipsy – offered to do it for her. She retrieved the abandoned pushchair from the side alley at the Anchor and used it to keep herself and Cordelia steady as they waited for Sarah to return. Peggy knew she’d drunk too much on an empty stomach, and combined with the fear and anxiety the day had wrought, she was feeling decidedly the worse for wear – as was Cordelia, who was very unsteady on her feet and suffering from hiccups as well as the giggles.

  On Sarah’s return with Daisy, they slowly weaved their way towards home, studiously avoiding Daisy’s puzzled looks and probing questions about why they were walking so strangely and what was so funny.

  It was a welcome relief to finally reach the harbour of home, but rather galling to be met by disapproving looks from Doris and knowing giggles from Rita and Ivy.

  Peggy returned her sister’s glare. ‘We’ve earned every drop of that beer today,’ she said defiantly, ‘so I’ll thank you to keep your opinion to yourself.’ She looked at Rita and Ivy, who’d clearly already bathed and were now in their nightclothes. ‘I hope you’ve left us some hot water, because as you can see, we’re all filthy.’

  ‘That’s not all you are,’ said Doris with a sniff. ‘Really, Peggy, I can smell the beer on you from here.’

  Peggy shrugged and flopped down into a kitchen chair. ‘You’re only jealous,’ she giggled.

  Doris rolled her eyes and managed to hold her tongue, but her expression said enough.

  Ron took charge. ‘Sarah, take Cordelia upstairs so she can have her bath, and when you’re both done, bring your dirty laundry down. Rita and Ivy have made a start on the washing, but they’ll need to soak first.’ He turned to Peggy as Sarah helped Cordelia stagger out of the room. ‘I’ll pour you a cup of very strong tea and sort out Daisy before I have to get to the Anchor. Is Rosie in the same state?’

  Peggy slumped in the chair, still giggling. ‘I expect so,’ she managed. ‘She and Gloria got into a drinking competition and were starting on the gin when we left.’

  ‘Ach, to be sure that was foolish,’ he sighed. ‘Gloria can drink any man under the table – as I know to my cost.’

  Peggy’s eyelids drooped and she found it hard to focus on the cup of tea Ron placed on the table. ‘It was fun, though,’ she mumbled. ‘I haven’t laughed so much in ages.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he replied, his blue eyes twinkling as he regarded her. ‘And I have some good news to keep you cheerful. I managed to persuade my mate Fred up at the Memorial to sell me a box of glasses, so Rosie should have enough now to keep her going.’

  Peggy eyed him over the teacup. She’d wondered what the big box on the table was.

  Ron waited until she’d managed to take a sip of the tea. ‘Frank and Pauline have had a long letter from Brendon. He’s well and looking forward to getting some leave in Dartmouth before he has to go back to sea again and, though he won’t be able to come home, he’s hoping to spend some time with his Betty.’ He paused for effect. ‘And Danuta is coming home tomorrow.’

  Peggy snapped out of her stupor. ‘Tomorrow? But her room’s not ready, I haven’t been shopping and there are a hundred and one things to do before she gets here.’

  ‘Ivy did the shopping, I finished waxing the floor last night and Doris helped me get the room sorted, so you’re to stop
worrying. The hospital has arranged for a volunteer to drive her home in time for lunch, and as luck would have it, Frank had a couple of brace of nice fat pheasants hanging in his shed, so we’ll be eating like kings.’

  ‘Pheasants?’ She eyed him suspiciously.

  ‘Aye,’ he replied, his expression bland.

  ‘Even I know the shooting season’s well and truly over,’ she hiccupped. ‘Has he been poaching on Lord Cliffe’s land again?’

  ‘I couldn’t possibly say,’ he replied airily. ‘All I know is there are two in the larder, plucked, gutted and ready for roasting tomorrow.’

  Peggy giggled. ‘Like father, like son – you’re both very, very naughty.’

  ‘And you’re very, very tipsy, wee girl,’ he replied with a loving smile. ‘Drink that tea before it gets cold.’

  Peggy woke the next morning with a pounding headache, which was not eased by a squadron of American planes going overhead or Daisy banging about with her wooden horse with its squeaking wheels. She had little recollection of what had happened after she’d left the Anchor, but at some point she’d clearly managed to bath and change and get into bed.

  She all but fell out of bed in her haste to retrieve the horse and persuade Daisy she really did want to play somewhere else whilst she got dressed and hunted out a couple of aspirin. Having achieved both these tasks, she opened the curtains to discover that three lines of washing had been pegged out across the back garden, and belatedly noticed that there was a tantalising aroma of roasting pheasant permeating the house – and remembered that Danuta was coming home today.

  Eyeing the bedside clock in horror, she realised the girl would be here within a couple of hours, and although she had a vague recollection of Ron telling her the room was ready, his idea of ready was far removed from her own, and she’d have to check it just to make sure.

  ‘Why didn’t you wake me?’ she asked as she went into the kitchen to discover a hive of activity.

  Doris turned from the oven where she was basting the birds and looked at her reproachfully. ‘You were dead to the world,’ she replied. ‘None of us could shift you.’

  ‘Snoring fit to bust, you was,’ teased Ivy, who was peeling potatoes. ‘You could have given me dad a run for ’is money, and that’s a fact.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Peggy sighed. ‘Was I really that bad?’

  Doris grinned. ‘Not so bad really,’ she conceded. ‘It was good to see you larking about for a change, but I wouldn’t recommend doing it too often. Drink plays havoc with the complexion, you know.’

  ‘I’ll try and remember that,’ Peggy said dryly.

  She left the busy kitchen and plodded upstairs to the single room that had been Cissy’s before she’d left to join the WAAFs. Opening the door, she stood in the shaft of bright sunlight pouring through the window and knew instantly that it would provide a perfect haven for Danuta in which she could settle into her new life and grow strong.

  The old linoleum had been taken up and the floorboards freshly waxed; there was a rag rug on either side of the neatly made bed with its temptingly plumped pillows, and a jug of beautiful roses had been placed on the chest of drawers. Much-thumbed paperback books and a small clock had been placed on the bedside table, and little gifts of cheap bracelets, earrings and brooches lay next to a small bar of soap, a tube of hand cream, half a bottle of shampoo and a bowl of talc which had been placed beside the pretty brush and comb set on the dressing table.

  Peggy felt her heart swell with love and pride as she took in Sarah’s faded cotton dressing gown hanging on the back of the door, and Cordelia’s two nightdresses which had been folded at the end of the bed. A new pair of slippers sat on the rug, and there was one of Ivy’s cotton dresses hanging in the cupboard alongside a skirt from Rita and a blouse from Fran.

  Peggy had to blink back her tears, for the thought and care that had gone into all this just proved that the residents of Beach View were the sweetest, kindest people on earth, and she felt quite humbled by it. They had so little themselves, and yet they hadn’t stinted in their willingness to show Danuta that she was welcome and already part of the family.

  Peggy slowly returned to the kitchen where she found Ivy still peeling potatoes, Rita shucking beans, Sarah laying the table, and Fran putting together an apple cobbler under the watchful eye of Cordelia as Doris prepared some stuffing and Ron stood on a ladder outside washing the window.

  ‘Thank you – all of you,’ Peggy managed. ‘Danuta’s room is perfect and she’ll love it.’ She had to swallow her tears before she could carry on. ‘And I love you for being so generous and sweet to a girl some of you have never even met.’

  The girls swamped her in a hug. ‘We love you too, Aunt Peg,’ said Sarah, ‘and it only seemed right to welcome her properly after all she’s been through. You were so kind and loving to me and Jane when we came to England, and we’ll never forget that.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rita gruffly, ‘same goes for me. You took me in when I had nowhere to live after Dad was enlisted, and gave me a loving home. We just wanted to show Danuta we care about her and want her to be as happy here as we are.’

  ‘The roses came from Stan’s allotment,’ said Fran. ‘I called in to see him at the station this morning and he’s promised to drop in to say hello sometime later.’

  ‘Them slippers come from Doris,’ said Ivy. ‘She wouldn’t let on, but I thought you should know she done her bit an’ all.’

  Peggy shot her sister a smile. ‘Thanks, Doris. They’re lovely.’

  Doris blushed and turned away to clatter dishes in the sink. ‘I know what it’s like to have nothing,’ she muttered. ‘I just hope they fit her.’

  Danuta had lain awake for most of the night, too excited to sleep. She was going home to Beach View at last, into the warmth and love of Peggy’s kitchen – the memory of which had sustained her throughout the years she’d been away and kept her strong during those endless days of terror and pain. She would once again be able to listen to Ron’s wildly exaggerated war stories and help Cordelia with her tangled knitting as Harvey snored by the fire and Peggy darned socks – and chat to Fran about her nursing and the plans she had for the future now she and Robert were engaged. The house would enfold her, comfort her and make her feel safe – which was something she hadn’t felt since leaving Poland in 1940.

  Sweet little Nurse Brown had come in after breakfast to find her hampered by her bandaged hands and struggling to get dressed, and had gently but firmly helped her into the clothes that had been donated to the hospital by the Red Cross for just such a cause. The sprigged cotton dress was faded and thin from too many washes, but felt soft against her skin and fitted her perfectly. The underwear was new, and although less than flattering and rather too large, the brassiere, pants and vest were infinitely more respectable than the rags she’d worn during her final days on the run.

  The Red Cross parcel had also contained a pair of socks and some white sandals. The socks proved impossible to pull on over the bandages which also made the sandals a bit tight. She stuffed the socks into her dress pocket, and with a bit of judicious pushing and shoving she got her feet into the sandals, determined to arrive at Beach View looking as normal as possible, even if she did hobble.

  Once Nurse Brown had wished her luck and left the room, Danuta regarded her reflection in the small mirror above the washbasin in the hope that the clothes and the prospect of going home to Beach View might have brought colour and life to her face. She turned away in disgust, for although her hair had grown, there were still tufts missing and her complexion was sallow after so many weeks of being indoors. With her hollow cheeks, haunted eyes and bony frame, she looked like some pre-pubescent waif rather than a mature woman of twenty-seven – and the knowledge depressed her.

  Danuta sank into a chair by the open window and breathed in the scents of the early summer flowers that drifted on the warm air from the garden. She could see men and women sitting on the broad terrace, chatting in groups, playing boa
rd games, or simply enjoying the freedom of the outdoors as their injuries healed and they prepared to return to ordinary life again.

  She experienced a sudden surge of anxiety at the thought of living a quiet, ordinary existence after all that she’d experienced since the Germans had invaded Poland and torn her family apart, shattering everything she knew and loved and believed in. The life she’d led before then felt so distant, so remote from the reality she’d been forced to face since, that when she looked back on it, it felt almost dreamlike – a fantasy experienced by another, blissfully innocent Danuta who bore little resemblance to the one who sat here today.

  She closed her eyes, willing this momentary panic to subside, but the questions continued going round and round in her head. What if Beach View had changed and didn’t feel the same? What if the memories of her time spent there had been falsely coloured by wishful thinking? What if the other girls she’d yet to meet didn’t take to her, or started asking awkward questions? What if she couldn’t settle after being in constant danger and having to live on her wits alone for so long? And how on earth could she return to nursing when her hands were in such a mess?

  She gave a tremulous sigh as she regarded the bandages which hid the raw nail-beds and newly healed broken fingers. Fran had been encouraging on her irregular visits, urging her not to give up hope but to be patient; yet it would be a long time before she could work in a hospital theatre – even if the authorities allowed it. At least her injuries would save her from working in the laundry as she’d been forced to do by Matron Billings when she’d first arrived in Cliffehaven.

  Danuta’s smile was wry as she turned back to watch the activity on the terrace. Matron Billings had been in charge at the Cliffehaven General then, and was now here at the Memorial. She’d never attempted to pronounce Danuta’s surname properly and had resorted to avoiding it, making it clear she would never approve of her simply because she was foreign. But Danuta had high hopes that one day she’d prove to the old witch that she was capable of far more than manning the industrial-sized washing machines in the hospital basement.