by Ellie Dean
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘It’s amazing what one can find at jumble sales these days.’
‘Well, don’t keep us in suspense, for goodness’ sake,’ said Ivy. ‘What’s going on?’
Doris told them about Rosie’s bungalow, and then turned to Peggy. ‘I do hope you don’t mind, Peggy, but I signed the lease before coming home this evening, and once the work has been done on it, I shall be moving in before the end of August.’
‘Oh, my dear, of course I don’t mind,’ said Peggy truthfully. ‘We both knew this wasn’t permanent, and I’m delighted Rosie took my advice and offered it to you.’
‘Oh,’ said Doris. ‘I hadn’t realised you’d discussed it with her first.’
‘She simply asked me if I thought you might want it,’ said Peggy. ‘We didn’t discuss your business, if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘No, of course not,’ said Doris, clearly not truly convinced.
‘It’ll take a bit to get the place straight,’ said Ron, breaking the short, tense silence. ‘I’m thinking I’ll be busy for the next few weeks with painting and such-like.’
‘We’ll all help,’ said Ivy enthusiastically.
‘Of course we will,’ said Peggy. ‘It’s what we did with Cordelia’s place in Mafeking Terrace before Ruby and Ethel moved in, and with so many willing hands it won’t take long at all.’ She reached for Doris’s hand. ‘That’s not to say we’re in a hurry to get rid of you,’ she said, ‘but a chance like this doesn’t come along often, and I know you’ll settle in there very happily.’
‘I’ll miss not ’aving you around,’ said Ivy. ‘But it’s near enough to the factory for me to pop in for a cuppa now and again.’ She looked at Doris with a sly smile. ‘The Colonel lives up that way too, don’t ’e? So that’ll be cosy.’
Doris blushed. ‘Do try to keep your mind out of the gutter, Ivy,’ she said mildly.
‘What about furniture?’ asked Peggy. ‘I can spare a bed and perhaps a couple of bits, but—’
‘I’m keeping some of Mrs Carey’s furniture,’ said Doris, ‘but I would appreciate a bed. Mrs Carey died in hers, and the thought of it would keep me awake.’
‘I bet that wouldn’t be the only thing keeping you awake if the Colonel’s feeling frisky,’ muttered Ivy, shooting her a wicked grin.
Doris glared at her and, without a word, left the house, her face burning.
Peggy gave Ivy a light tap on her hand. ‘Naughty girl,’ she reproached softly. ‘Poor Doris deserves a bit of fun after all she’s been through, and you shouldn’t tease her.’
‘Yeah, I know, but she don’t mind a bit of leg-pulling,’ replied Ivy without a glimmer of regret.
Peggy was about to say that Doris was far more fragile than she let on when the telephone rang. She went to answer it, and after a bit of static, Gracie’s voice echoed down the line.
‘Hello, Peggy. I can’t talk for long as I don’t have a lot of change, but I wanted to know how Chloe is and how you’re managing.’
‘Chloe is absolutely fine,’ she replied firmly, ‘and so am I. What about you? How are things in Dover?’
There was a short silence and then what sounded like a sob. ‘He’s refusing to see me,’ Gracie said brokenly. ‘And it’s all my fault, Peg.’
‘I don’t see how that can be,’ she replied, her heart going out to her friend.
‘They warned me he wouldn’t look the same – that the burns … that it was important I didn’t show any reaction.’ Her voice faltered as she fought her sobs. ‘I tried, Peggy, I really did, but … but it was such a shock to see him like that, I simply couldn’t hide it. His face … his lovely face …’ She broke into wracking sobs.
Peggy gripped the receiver as graphic images flashed in her mind. She’d never met Clive, but had seen his photograph and so knew he’d been a handsome man, and the horror of what had happened to him was just too awful to contemplate. She yearned to be able to console Gracie, but couldn’t begin to think how that was possible.
‘Oh, Gracie,’ she murmured. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Clive has yet to see the extent of his injuries,’ she managed through her tears. ‘But when I failed to hide my shock, he shouted at me to go away and not come back, and I’m ashamed to say I fled. But I went back the next morning, determined to stay by his side regardless of the fact I could hardly bear to look at him.’
She took a shuddering breath. ‘You see, I knew he was frightened, terribly frightened, and I wanted him to know that we would see through his recovery together.’
‘That was brave,’ murmured Peggy.
There was a pause as Gracie slotted some more coins into the public phone. ‘Not really,’ she continued, ‘because I let him down so very badly. He looked straight at me with his one good eye and demanded that I kiss him – on what’s left of his lips. And I couldn’t, Peggy. I just couldn’t,’ she wailed.
Peggy closed her eyes, imagining the awful scene – understanding Clive’s need to be treated as normal and poor Gracie’s inability to do so. ‘It will get easier in time,’ she said, hearing the triteness of her words even as she spoke them. ‘You’ll both get used to what’s happened and once—’
‘Maybe,’ Gracie replied, calmer now. ‘But I’m doing no good here. Clive refuses to see me and the doctor suggested I stay away for a while until he’s come to terms with things. Seeing me has upset him dreadfully, and if he’s to recover, then he needs peace and quiet and to be with other men who are going through the same thing.’
She gave a tremulous sigh. ‘I’ll be home sometime late tomorrow. If you could keep Chloe for one more night, I would be grateful.’
‘I’ll keep her for as long as you like,’ said Peggy as the pips went. ‘You’ll need a bit of time to yourself to recover from it all and—’
The line went dead. Peggy replaced the receiver and sat for a while in the hall, thinking how very lucky she was not to be walking in Gracie’s shoes. She took a deep breath, offered up a silent prayer to keep Jim safe, and went back to the light and warmth of her kitchen.
Cordelia was reading the children a story before they had the nightly treat of being carried upstairs on the chairlift.
Ron listened as Peggy quietly summarised the call from Gracie. He shared her concern for both of them and knew Peggy would do all she could to support her friend during this terrible time, but the real battle would be going on inside Gracie’s head and heart – and because she was made of strong stuff, he suspected she’d soon go back to Dover.
This war had damaged so many young lives, and he was relieved and thankful his son hadn’t shared the same fate as Clive and was on the mend. However, the cheerfulness of Jim’s letter didn’t really ring true, and he seemed a bit too anxious to allay their fears. Ron wondered if Jim really had got off as lightly as he’d professed. He looked all right in the photograph, but the camera could lie, and no one could see what was going on in his mind.
Ron’s own experience of war taught him that Ernie’s injuries would be preying on Jim, especially as he blamed himself for what had happened – although how that had come about was a mystery. Ron could only hope that Jim’s worry over Ernie wouldn’t delay his recovery.
He returned the letter and photograph to its envelope and, although he wasn’t particularly hungry, made a concerted effort to eat the tinned corned beef and garden salad, which had been served with a couple of the tiny new potatoes he’d dug up earlier.
‘So, Ron, what are your plans for tonight?’ asked Peggy.
‘Fred the Fish finally managed to get me a couple of kippers, so I’m taking them up to Chalky White’s. If I’ve time, I’ll pop in and see Rosie after, but I’ve warned her I might not make it,’ he added. ‘Old Chalky can talk the hind legs off a donkey, so he can, and I could be stuck there for hours.’
‘The poor man probably gets lonely, with his wife going off to her sister’s all the time,’ Peggy commented.
‘I doubt that,’ muttered Ron.
‘She’s always at him for one thing or another, and I’m thinking he likes the peace and quiet.’
He pushed back from the table, washed his empty plate, and then regarded his sad-eyed dog with some sympathy. ‘You’ll be staying put, ye heathen beast,’ he said, fondling the dog’s ears. ‘It’s a long walk, and you’re not ready for that yet.’
The telephone rang just as he was about to fetch the paper-wrapped kippers from the larder. ‘I’ll get it,’ he rumbled, stomping off into the hall.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Ron,’ said Rosie with a slight edge to her voice. ‘I was wondering if you could pop in? Only something’s cropped up and needs seeing to with some urgency.’
‘It’s not the plumbing again, is it?’ he asked warily. He hated plumbing.
‘Oh no, it’s something far more important than that. And it might take some time to fix, so perhaps you should forget the kippers tonight.’
Ron had visions of a flooded cellar, burst pipe or another soot fall. ‘What the devil has happened, Rosie?’
‘You’ll find out when you get here,’ she said and disconnected the call.
Ron frowned as he replaced the receiver. Rosie certainly sounded anxious about something, and he couldn’t very well ignore her plea for help – but kippers wouldn’t keep either.
He went back into the kitchen and pulled on his jacket and cap. ‘Rosie’s got some problem at the Anchor she needs sorting, but those kippers need to get to Chalky before they go off.’ He looked at Rita who was sharing a copy of the Picture Post with Ivy. ‘I don’t suppose you could take them up on your bike?’
She set the magazine aside. ‘Of course I will,’ she replied before turning to Ivy. ‘Fancy a ride up there, and then a pint at the Woodman’s Arms for a change?’
‘Yeah, why not? Andy’s on duty and I ain’t got nothing else to do.’
Ron nodded his thanks, dragged on his jacket and cap and left the house. Less than a minute later the girls passed him on the speeding motorbike. His smile was wry as he watched them disappear around the corner. He understood Rita’s youthful appetite for speed, and she could handle that bike expertly, but if Chalky offered them any of his lethal parsnip wine, they’d find the journey home an entirely different kettle of fish.
Double summer-time was still in force, which made the evenings much lighter for longer, so Rosie had yet to pull the blackout curtains. He peered in through the heavily taped windows to the bar and saw that Brenda was again in charge, with no sign of Rosie. Monty was sprawled before the empty inglenook and all seemed calm and normal enough, so why the urgent summons?
He stepped down into the bar and headed straight for Brenda. ‘What’s happened? Rosie said it was urgent.’
‘Oh, it is,’ said Brenda with what looked suspiciously like a knowing gleam in her eye. ‘She’s upstairs.’
Ron frowned and hurried into the hall. Taking the stairs two at a time, he found the sitting room door was closed, which was most unusual. He opened the door and found the room deserted and in darkness but for the soft glow from a table lamp. ‘Rosie? Where are you? What’s going on?’
‘I need you in here, Ron,’ she called back. ‘Please hurry.’
He couldn’t imagine what might be wrong as he hurried towards the sound of her voice. And then he came to an abrupt halt outside her open bedroom door.
Rosie was resting against a mass of pillows, the soft glow of many candles gleaming on her tanned shoulders and long, slender legs. She wore nothing but a very skimpy silk petticoat and a seductive smile. ‘I’m in urgent need of some proper loving,’ she murmured, her blue eyes hazy with lust.
Ron could barely breathe as his eyes feasted on her. ‘To be sure, darling girl, I’m the man for that,’ he managed.
Rosie lifted her arms to him. ‘Then what are you waiting for?’
He kicked the door shut, threw off his jacket and cap and tenderly gathered her to him.
20
Calcutta
Jim kicked off the sheet that was soaked in his sweat. He was burning up despite the ceiling fans whirring above his bed, and his head felt as if it was stuffed with burning embers that might explode at any minute. The view from the window was a blur, the vivid colours swirling into one another at giddying speed as the merciless sun glared and the voices of those around him became muffled and incomprehensible. The fever was returning and would soon overwhelm him.
In the lucid moments between these bouts, he realised he was safe and far from battle, but when the fever raged the nightmares came to haunt him, and as his wasted body shook and burned he once again heard the endless booms of the guns – saw the enemy faces looming like ghouls at him from the jungle – and felt the anguish and gnawing guilt of what he’d done to Ernie.
He turned his head towards the shadow that fell across him and saw it was Staff Nurse Fitzpatrick – his very own angel of mercy who’d come to help him through. ‘You sent the letter to Peg?’ he managed through chattering teeth.
‘It went three weeks ago,’ she replied softly. ‘Don’t you remember?’
He did have a vague memory of being able to write the letter full of false cheerfulness, but it had taken an age because his wound was very painful and his hand had been shaking with the onset of the returning infection. ‘And the photo? You found the photo?’
She squeezed cold water out of a flannel and pressed it against his forehead. ‘It was in your kitbag.’ She replaced the flannel with another and began to wash his chest and arms.
Jim fought against the deep shivers that were making him shudder, determined to focus on Peggy and the subterfuge that had been so necessary. He’d had that photograph taken several months ago when he’d been sent south of here on a short leave, and because he looked fit and healthy, he’d kept meaning to send it home – but now it had become very handy because it would allay Peggy’s fears and make his letter more believable.
‘I’m just going to change your bed linen,’ said the nurse, ‘and then I’ll give you your pills and something to help you sleep.’
Like a helpless child, he let her roll him back and forth, and once the fresh sheets and pillows were in place, he obediently swallowed the pills. ‘To be sure,’ he managed weakly, ‘I’m thinking I’ll never make it out of here.’
‘It might feel as if you’re not getting any better,’ she said, filling a hypodermic, ‘but the bouts of fever are lessening in power and regularity. The infection you got at the field hospital is waning – and your wound is healing well.’
Jim wasn’t sure if he believed her, but the needle slipped smoothly into the scrawny flesh of his upper arm, and as the medication raced through his veins, he fell into sweet oblivion and no longer cared.
21
Peggy knew something was up when she went down to the basement in the morning to see where Ron had got to, and discovered his bed had not been slept in. She chuckled with delight at the realisation he must have stayed with Rosie – and that her urgent telephone call had had nothing to do with emergency repairs.
However, Ron’s absence meant the ferrets hadn’t been cleaned out, and Harvey needed his morning constitutional. With all the girls at work and only Cordelia to watch over two boisterous children, Peggy was in a bit of a bind.
She quickly shot outside to feed the chickens, and then ran up the concrete steps. ‘Ron stayed out all last night,’ she said excitedly to Cordelia who was calmly eating her breakfast as the little girls banged and crashed about with the wooden horse and trolley.
‘Then I’d loosen them, dear,’ she said. ‘They’ll do you no good if they’re too tight.’
‘What?’
‘If the bones are too tight in your stays then you should undo them,’ said Cordelia. ‘Though why you need such a thing when you’ve got nothing to hold in, I don’t know.’
Peggy bit down on her impatience and made winding signals to urge Cordelia to turn on her hearing aid. Time was moving on very fast and she had to be at work in less than an hour.
‘I said, Ron didn’t come home from Rosie’s last night,’ she said loudly.
Cordelia’s eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really,’ said Peggy, grabbing hold of Daisy, who seemed determined to batter the chair legs into submission with her trolley. ‘Poor Harvey must have his legs crossed, and the ferret cage stinks. Could you keep the children occupied whilst I see to them?’
‘Of course, dear. But I could always take Harvey out on his lead for you.’
Peggy had visions of Harvey spying a cat, rat or rabbit and hurtling off, dragging a helpless Cordelia behind him. ‘That’s very kind, but I think I’d better do it.’
She turned to the girls who were now tussling over a colouring book. ‘That’s quite enough of that,’ she said sternly. ‘Sit down, the pair of you, and behave for Gan-Gan.’ She slapped a second book on the table and added a handful of colouring pencils. ‘Play nicely,’ she ordered.
Daisy and Chloe eyed her warily before bending their heads to the task of colouring in.
Peggy snapped the lead onto Harvey’s collar. ‘I won’t be long. If you have any trouble from either of the girls, tell them there’ll be no sweeties on the way home tonight.’
With that stern threat, Peggy left the kitchen and followed Harvey as he slowly negotiated the stone steps to the basement. She breathed in the lovely fresh air of what promised to be another hot summer’s day, and then strolled alongside Harvey as they went into the alleyway. It was clear the dog was still in some discomfort, but he managed to water and sniff just about every blade of grass along the way as they slowly went up the hill.
After ten minutes, Peggy decided they’d gone far enough and turned for home, only to find that Queenie had decided to follow them. ‘That’s all I need,’ she sighed. She tugged on the lead, and Harvey sat down with a thump to wait for his feline friend.
