by Ellie Dean
Danuta reached for the small gold medallion that their father had given Aleksy before he left to fight the Fascists in the Spanish Civil War. Her brother had come to look upon it as a talisman and never went anywhere without it; now it was a tangible reminder of a brave and much-loved man who’d never lost sight of who he was, or what he was fighting for.
As she regarded the Madonna and child etched into the gold, she once more questioned the fact that Aleksy had given it to his wing commander, Martin Black, for safe keeping before he left on that last, fatal mission. Had he foreseen his death, and in some strange way sensed she would come to take possession of it again and find some comfort in it?
She liked to believe that he’d been thinking of her on that last day, and although she would have given anything to have him still alive, this little medallion had been precious to him, and was therefore more valuable to her than the gold it was made from.
Returning the medallion to the bedside table, she switched off the lamp and snuggled down. Staring into the darkness, she remembered her first night in this house three years ago – and it was as if history was repeating itself, for she’d owned nothing but the clothes she wore, and after her perilous journey across Europe, she’d been weary beyond words. Peggy had taken her in as she had done now with unquestioning love and understanding – and had even managed to convey the news of Aleksy’s death with great tenderness.
Danuta could still feel the echoes of that painful time which had drained her of energy and momentarily extinguished the spark of vengeful determination she’d kept burning so brightly since leaving Warsaw. She’d felt utterly defeated until the flutter of new life stirred inside her, and that had spurred her out of her despondency and brought hope that her baby would be born into a peaceful world.
Danuta curled beneath the bedding and closed her eyes. She had lost everyone she loved because of this war – even her precious baby – but her work with the SOE behind enemy lines had finally quenched that thirst for revenge, the death and destruction she’d caused enough to assuage the bitter rage that had once possessed her. The Germans were on the brink of defeat, their brutal rampage through Europe beaten back by the Allies and the great army of ordinary men and women who fought in the hills, mountains, villages, towns and valleys of the occupied countries with the Resistance. And she would celebrate peace alongside Peggy and Ron, and then get on with forging a new life here in Cliffehaven.
Peggy peeked into Danuta’s room to make sure all was well before she turned in, and saw that Harvey had crept in unnoticed sometime during the evening and was lying on the rug beside the bed. Not wanting to wake Danuta, she hissed at him and made commanding hand gestures ordering him out.
Harvey lifted his nose from his bandaged paws, eyed her with some irritation at being disturbed, and promptly went back to sleep, his soft snores in perfect harmony with Queenie’s purring.
Peggy knew when she was beaten and retreated to the bathroom with a smile – Danuta would never feel lonely at night with Harvey and Queenie making such a racket. But at least she hadn’t let Harvey climb onto the bed – that would have made for a very uncomfortable arrangement.
15
Despite the dairy having been flattened, the morning milk deliveries continued, only this time when the Shire horses arrived with the churns, the housewives came out to collect their milk ration in jugs or pans because there were no surviving bottles after the blast. Like the daily newspaper which arrived on the early train, these much loved and highly prized English traditions were what kept people going, and they were determined not to lose them.
It was now Thursday afternoon and Workers’ Playtime was blaring out from the wireless as the sewing machines hummed and the women gossiped. Peggy had left Beach View that morning happy to see that Danuta had cast off her bandages and was now wearing light cotton gloves and socks to hide her lack of nails, and was also walking without her stick.
It was lovely to see how well she’d fitted in with the others, and how she was rapidly improving by the day – which Peggy put down to her feeling at home and safe at last. Fran had cut her hair very close so it looked thicker and it now framed her little face and enhanced her strong features. It wouldn’t be long, Peggy was sure, before she plucked up the courage to taste life outside Beach View – but for now she seemed content to help around the house and keep Cordelia company.
Peggy pulled her attention back to her work. She was teaching one of the new machinists how to keep the material from bunching beneath the needle, and it was slow going, for Mrs James really had no idea of how to cope with the commercial sewing machine – but as Peggy had once been in her position, she understood that only patience would save the day.
Her gaze drifted over the many women who were hard at work, then her eyes were drawn by a movement on the staircase that led to the large office and the window that gave a panoramic view of the entire factory floor. Her mouth dried and her heart missed a beat as she saw a grim-faced Sergeant Williams making his way into Solly Goldman’s office.
‘Oh, lawks,’ sighed the middle-aged housewife next to her. ‘I’m never going to get the hang of this.’
Peggy was unable to tear her eyes from the two men behind that large window. ‘Cut the thread and start again,’ she murmured, watching Solly read something Bert had given him, before he glanced down at the factory floor, his expressive face haggard with grief.
Her pulse was racing, the dread growing by the second as Solly rubbed a hand over his eyes. She’d witnessed this scene before and knew that Bert Williams had brought bad news for someone – but who was it for this time? ‘Not Jim,’ she murmured. ‘Please, God, don’t let it be Jim.’
The woman next to her abruptly stopped sewing and followed her gaze and soon a deathly silence fell throughout the factory as a grim-faced Solly made his way down the stairs. They all knew what this meant, and they held a collective breath as he walked purposefully through the long lines of sewing machines towards the cutting tables at the far end.
Peggy shot a glance at Gracie, who was standing by her cutting table, her face drained of colour, her eyes wide with fear as Solly maintained eye contact with her and continued to walk towards her.
Peggy shoved back her chair and rushed to Gracie’s side as he came to a halt. She grasped her hand, but Gracie was transfixed and unaware of everything but her employer’s mournful face.
‘Gracie, my dear,’ he said, ‘your husband is alive, but he has been injured and is in hospital.’
Peggy saw Gracie was on the point of collapse and quickly put her arm about her waist to help her to a nearby chair. ‘Which hospital?’ she asked.
Solly placed a plump hand on Gracie’s shoulder. ‘He’s in Dover,’ he said quietly as the machines started up again all around them, the easing of tension becoming almost tangible in the sighs and whispers of the other women. ‘Come, Gracie. We’ll discuss it further in the canteen where it is quiet.’ He shot a helpless look at Peggy who nodded back, understanding he needed her to keep Gracie company.
Solly helped Gracie to her feet and she walked unsteadily between them, blank-eyed and clearly still in shock. Peggy fetched cups of tea whilst Solly settled her in a chair, and then lit them both a cigarette.
‘How badly hurt is he?’ Gracie managed finally.
‘The bones will heal in time,’ said Solly carefully, ‘but his other injuries will take a bit longer.’
Gracie’s eyes widened as tears began to roll down her white face. ‘Other injuries?’ She clapped a trembling hand over her mouth as awful realisation hit. ‘Oh, no, no, not my Clive. Please tell me he hasn’t been burned.’
Before Solly could reply Peggy and Gracie saw the truth in his eyes, and Gracie collapsed against Peggy in a storm of tears.
Peggy held her tightly and regarded Solly over Gracie’s head, seeing the helplessness and sorrow in his slumped shoulders. She raised a questioning eyebrow and as their eyes met and he shook his head she understood that Clive’s burns were
serious.
‘I must go and see him,’ said Gracie, suddenly pulling from Peggy’s embrace and digging about in her overall pocket for a handkerchief. ‘Which hospital in Dover is he in?’
‘At the Royal Victoria,’ said Solly, ‘but I doubt they’ll let you visit yet as he’s only just been admitted.’
‘That’s ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘He’s my husband. Of course I must go to him.’
‘Oy, vay, Gracie,’ he sighed. ‘Your husband is heavily sedated and will not know you are there.’
‘That doesn’t matter,’ she replied. ‘I don’t want him coming round and thinking I’ve abandoned him. The poor darling will be so confused and frightened. He’ll need me there.’
Solly took a deep breath. ‘I understand, Gracie, really I do – but you will have to be brave, my dear. He’s a very sick man.’
‘Just how badly burned is he?’ she asked, tears once again trembling on her eyelashes as she stubbed out the barely smoked cigarette.
As he took her hands, Peggy could tell that he was choosing his words carefully, and it made her stomach churn.
‘The doctors can do the most marvellous things with skin grafts these days, so don’t lose heart.’
‘It was his biggest fear,’ Gracie whispered. ‘Mine too. So many of his friends …’ She dashed away the tears and made a concerted effort to keep her emotions under control. With a nod at Solly, she withdrew her hands from his grasp and turned to Peggy. ‘I have to go to him, Peggy,’ she managed, ‘but a hospital is no place for a child, and I have no idea of how long I’ll be away. Would you look after Chloe for me?’
‘Of course I will,’ Peggy said immediately. ‘But I don’t like the thought of you facing this alone, Gracie. Is there someone who could go with you?’
Gracie shook her head. ‘Clive’s parents are in the Hebrides and since his father has been confined to a wheelchair, they don’t travel. Mother’s closer, but even if she did come, I don’t think I could cope with her getting upset – she’s very emotional already because of Father and my brothers being away, and it will be hard enough without having to deal with her as well as everything else.’
‘Oh, Gracie,’ sighed Peggy. ‘I wish I could do more to help you through this.’
Gracie hugged her. ‘You’re doing enough by caring for Chloe,’ she replied.
Peggy’s heart ached for her friend, knowing how very hard it would be for her to come to terms with what had happened to Clive.
Gracie mopped her tears with a handkerchief and then turned to Solly. ‘How do I get a travel warrant? Will the RAF provide one, or do I have to apply?’
‘Bert and I will see to that,’ he soothed. ‘You go home now and I’ll send my Rachel over when I’ve got things sorted. She’ll help you get organised and drive you to the station.’ His smile was wan. ‘It may take a while to cut through the red tape, so try to be patient, my dear.’
Gracie was icily calm as she got to her feet. ‘Thank you, Mr Goldman. I know how hard it must be for you to pass on such news, and I do appreciate what you and Rachel do for us all.’ She gave Peggy a hug. ‘I’ll ring you when I know more.’
‘Would you like me to come home with you?’
Gracie smiled through her tears. ‘I need to be alone with Chloe for now so I can take all this in and prepare myself for whatever I find in Dover.’ Her voice broke. ‘But thanks, Peggy. Thanks for being such a good friend.’
Peggy watched as she hurried off, weaving through the lines of machines, her focus on collecting Chloe from the crèche and all the things she’d have to do before she left for Dover. Peggy was reminded of how Doris had been after hearing the news about Ted, and realised that Gracie was going through the motions without realising she was in deepest shock.
‘I really don’t like the thought of her being alone,’ she murmured, ‘but I suppose she needs time to absorb it all and gather her strength to face what lies ahead.’ She gave a tremulous sigh before meeting Solly’s gaze. ‘How bad is he really?’ she asked.
Solly dug his hands in his trouser pockets and surveyed the women working on the factory floor. ‘Bert spoke to the matron at the Victoria, and although she couldn’t tell him much, she did say that once his broken bones are healed he’d be a perfect candidate to be transferred to East Grinstead.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘Which sadly means the burns must be extensive. But Archibald McIndoe is working miracles on men like Clive – virtually rebuilding their faces, so I’ve heard. She’ll have to be very brave, Peggy – and so will he. I’ve seen what’s happened to other pilots.’
Peggy felt quite ill at the thought of poor Gracie having to confront what this war had done to her Clive, and could only pray that their marriage was strong enough to withstand the undoubted trauma of the coming months. She’d heard what had happened to other couples in the same situation – and not all of them had weathered the life-changing storm.
She stubbed out her cigarette and gathered up the barely touched cups of tea, still very upset for Gracie. ‘I’d better get back to work,’ she said. ‘Mrs James is all fingers and thumbs and if I don’t keep an eye on her she’ll do herself a damage with that needle.’
‘Before you go, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you, Peggy.’
She eyed him sharply. ‘Shouldn’t you be sorting out Gracie’s travel permit?’
‘I’ve already got Sergeant Williams on the case. She should have it by tonight.’
Peggy realised he needed to talk to alleviate the tension of the past few minutes, so rather reluctantly sat back down. ‘So what’s on your mind, Solly?’
‘This war is coming to an end,’ he said, settling back into one of the unyielding metal chairs. ‘Once Paris falls, the rest of Europe will follow and Hitler will be defeated – and once that happens, the Japanese will surrender.’ He pulled a fat cigar from his breast pocket and took his time to light it. ‘There will still be a need for uniforms, but in far fewer numbers, so I have begun to think about what people might want in the future.’
Peggy stared at him, confused by this change of subject whilst her mind was still struggling with Gracie’s dilemma. She had known Solly since her schooldays, and even then he’d had a keen eye on business opportunities, and was selling good second-hand clothes from a market stall by the time he was fifteen. ‘And what do you think that might be?’ she asked.
‘I have some ideas, but I’d like your opinion – as a woman.’
Peggy made a determined effort to concentrate. ‘It’s going to depend on whether we still have rationing,’ she said a moment later. ‘But like most women I’m sick of making do and mending and only having those drab utility clothes to buy, so brightly coloured, cheap and pretty dresses would be high on my list.’
His smile was beaming. ‘My thoughts exactly, Peggy.’
She glanced out of the window to the busy factory floor. ‘But most of these machinists will leave when their husbands come home, and where would you get the material?’
He tapped the side of his large nose. ‘The women have become used to earning their own money, and I’ll wager a good number of them will stay on even when their husbands come home – and men are just as good on the machines and cutting tables – they’ll want their jobs back, you’ll see.’
He blew smoke and regarded her with a twinkle in his eye. ‘As for the material, I have a warehouse full of it, set aside when I took on the government contract for uniforms.’
Peggy chuckled. ‘I might have known you had something up your sleeve.’
‘The first rule of business is to always have a plan B,’ he said with a wink. ‘I’ll continue supplying the uniforms, but at the same time get the dressmaking business up and running again.’ He grinned through the cigar smoke. ‘And I’ll need someone I can trust to be my eyes and ears on the shop floor and to take charge of the machinists.’
She stared at him in disbelief as his meaning sank in. ‘But I can’t do that,’ she protested. ‘I’ve only been working here a matt
er of months and there are others far better qualified.’
‘My niece is planning to get married and move back to London by Christmas, and I consider you to be the best person to replace her,’ said Solly. He held up his hand to silence her protest. ‘You’ve already shown you’re perfectly capable of getting the best out of the women. You have a way with people, and they are drawn to you, willing to do their best for you, Peggy. I can think of no one better.’
Peggy couldn’t deny that she was tempted, but there were many obstacles to be negotiated before she could take his offer seriously. ‘I’m flattered you think so highly of me, Solly, but this job was only temporary whilst the war was on and I needed the money.’
She took a breath and met his gaze squarely. ‘When Jim and the rest of the family come home I’ll be too busy to hold down a job – particularly a managerial one that will entail more responsibility. And besides, Jim has been away for so long, he might resent me working.’
‘I think six guineas a week will ease his resentment,’ said Solly, watching her carefully.
‘Six guineas?’ breathed Peggy.
‘That’s just to start with. There will be a yearly increase and a bonus when sales pick up.’
Peggy stared at him, hardly daring to contemplate such a sum.
Solly seized the moment to press his case. ‘If I know Jim, he’ll soon get restless and find himself work of some sort or another and you’ll be left to rattle about in that house with just Cordelia, Daisy and maybe Danuta for company. Your chicks will fly the nest; Anne and her girls will be with Martin in their own home; Cissy will probably settle down somewhere with her Yank, and your two boys are of an age when they no longer need or want to be tied to your apron strings.’
Peggy’s spirits ebbed at the realisation that he was probably right.
He eyed her affectionately as she stared dumbly back at him. ‘I don’t mean to be harsh, Peggy, but you’re intelligent enough to know things will be very different once the war is over. Just give my offer some serious consideration, my dear. It will be a while before I have everything organised, so there’s no rush.’
