On a Turning Tide

by Ellie Dean

  Ron’s gaze slid away as he poured more whisky. ‘To be sure, ’tis not the time, Father. Not with us full of the demon drink.’

  ‘I expect you’re right,’ the priest murmured. He took a leisurely drink, his gaze drifting to a pile of books on the desk below the small window. ‘And it’s a lot to remember after so many years.’

  ‘Aye. I could be a bit rusty on a few of the finer points,’ admitted Ron, following his gaze to the catechism books, relieved that the other man was offering him a way out of his dilemma.

  ‘You’re welcome to borrow one,’ said Father Peter, ‘but I shall need it back for Sunday School.’

  ‘That would be grand, so it would,’ said Ron. ‘Just to brush up on a few of the minor things, you understand,’ he added hastily.

  Father O’Leary smiled a knowing smile and said nothing.

  2

  Peggy had mulled things over during the afternoon and decided she’d take Mavis Anderson as she found her and focus on the exciting prospect of her new job. She was still feeling positive about things when she went to the crèche to pick up Daisy at the end of her shift. It was Fran’s turn to cook the tea, Ron had promised faithfully that he’d sort out the dripping overflow from the upstairs washbasin as soon as he’d been to see Father O’Leary, and Sarah had planned to do the shopping during her lunch break – so if all that had been achieved, she had only to get Daisy to bed after tea and then put her feet up. If there were any letters in the post, then that would be a bonus.

  She pulled up her coat collar as she waited impatiently for someone to open the door to the nursery, for the wind had strengthened and become quite cutting.

  ‘Ah, Peggy,’ said Nanny Pringle as she opened the door. ‘You’d better come in.’

  Peggy was a little alarmed at the other woman’s serious expression. ‘Why, what’s the matter? Daisy’s all right, isn’t she?’

  Nanny Pringle stepped aside and closed the door behind Peggy before replying. ‘I’m sorry to report that we have an outbreak of nits,’ she said, bristling with disapproval.

  ‘Oh, is that all?’ said Peggy, relieved. ‘I thought there’d been some sort of crisis.’

  Nanny Pringle’s usually pleasant smile was not in place as she regarded Peggy sternly. ‘Being infested with nits is very serious,’ she said. ‘With so many children, they are inclined to spread like wildfire. I’ve had to telephone for Sister Danuta to come and deal with it all. Daisy is still waiting her turn, so I’m afraid it might be a while until you can take her home.’

  Peggy felt duly chastised and bit down on a smile as she followed the bustling figure into the large, pleasant room at the back, which was now crowded with anxious mothers and fractious children. Nanny Pringle’s bark was worse than her bite, but at times she made Peggy feel five years old again.

  Nanny Pringle started issuing orders to one of her two young helpers to clear away the scattered toys, and then firmly separated two small boys who were tussling over a toy truck. The other girl was trying to bring some order to the line of children who were waiting for Danuta to comb their hair and apply the nit powder.

  Danuta caught Peggy’s eye and grinned as she handed over a box of powder and fine-toothed comb to the mother of the child she’d just treated, and then turned her attention to the next in line. Peggy saw that Daisy was right at the end of the queue, so she dumped her bag and coat and went to see if she could help in any way.

  ‘I’d appreciate it if you could keep that little lot amused until we’ve finished here,’ Nanny Pringle said, tipping her head towards a cluster of toddlers who’d already been treated and were getting raucous. ‘They aren’t due to be picked up for another hour or so.’

  Peggy rounded them up, took them to the far end of the room and got them sitting in a semi-circle. Plucking a colourful book from a nearby shelf, she settled down to read the story and show them the bright pictures which accompanied it.

  As she read, she kept an eye out for Daisy. One by one the children were treated and sent home with their mothers, the room quietened, and order was restored.

  Daisy came running up to her just as she’d finished the story. ‘Nuta put powder on my hair,’ she complained, dumping the box of powder and a comb in Peggy’s lap before scratching furiously at her head. ‘Don’t like it.’

  Peggy gave her a hug. ‘But everyone else has got powder – look.’ She pointed at the other children. ‘You don’t want to be the only one without, do you?’

  Daisy shook her head, but still looked doubtful.

  To ward off any tantrum, Peggy quickly fetched their coats, noting that Danuta was packing away her things and reaching for her cloak. ‘Come on, Daisy, let’s see if Danuta will walk home with us for our tea.’

  To Peggy’s mind, Danuta was still far too thin after her long weeks of recovery in the Memorial Hospital, but despite what the Gestapo had done to her, she’d never lost her fighting spirit, and having beaten all the odds and survived, there was now a healthy glow in her face, and her hair was a glossy dark brown beneath that fetching little starched cap.

  ‘I’m sorry, Mamma Peggy,’ she said as they headed for the door, ‘but I have to return to surgery first to check I am not needed. There is a mother expecting her baby very soon, and I might have to visit her before I can come home.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ sighed Peggy. ‘I do worry that you’re doing too much after all you’ve been through. Have you eaten yet?’

  ‘I had lunch,’ said Danuta, leading the way outside, ‘and a biscuit with tea just before I was called here.’

  ‘Well, that’s not enough to keep you going until teatime.’ Peggy scrabbled in her string bag. ‘I didn’t get around to eating all my sandwiches today,’ she said, handing over the small packet. ‘Do try and get those down you before you go rushing off again.’

  Danuta smiled, her green eyes lighting up with affection. ‘You do not practise what you preach, I think. Why you not eat at lunchtime?’

  ‘I had my mind on other things and simply forgot,’ Peggy replied, grabbing Daisy to stop her from running into the road.

  ‘Is something the matter, Peggy?’ the girl asked with a frown.

  Peggy explained about her new job. ‘I’ll have to tell the others tonight,’ she said, ‘and I’m rather dreading what Ron will say.’

  Danuta gave a little shrug. ‘It is not his decision,’ she said. ‘And it is good that Solly thinks so highly of you. Well done.’ She placed the packet of sandwiches in her basket, gave Peggy a hasty kiss on the cheek and tethered the bag and box on the rack of her bicycle. ‘I will bring the powder for the rest of the household with me when I come home,’ she promised. ‘And thank you for the sandwiches.’

  Peggy watched her cycle away, and with a sigh, began the walk home, tired now after a long day and ready for her tea.

  The overflow pipe was no longer dripping, she noted with relief when she arrived home at last. Climbing the concrete steps from the scullery to the kitchen, she found it wonderfully warm and welcoming after her chilly walk. The atmosphere was calm and happy as everyone sat around the table eating their tea and the two dogs snored contentedly by the range fire. There was no sign of Queenie the three-legged cat, but as it was her time to prowl the neighbourhood, Peggy wasn’t too concerned.

  Daisy ran straight to the elderly and much-loved Cordelia to have her coat and hat taken off. ‘I got nits, Gan-Gan,’ she declared proudly, whipping off her woolly hat to show her the powder in her dark curls.

  There was a general groan, and Fran got up from the table to fetch Peggy and Daisy’s supper plates which had been put in the warming oven. ‘Ach well,’ she sighed. ‘These things happen. At least it’s not an outbreak of measles or mumps.’

  ‘They’ll come soon enough,’ said Peggy, admiring the golden crust on the pigeon pie. ‘My goodness, that does look lovely,’ she praised.

  ‘It tastes all right too,’ Ivy said with her mouth full.

  ‘It is not made of paste and glue,’ said Cord
elia crossly. ‘Really, Ivy, do think before you speak. Fran has done a lovely job.’

  ‘I never said …’ Ivy made winding signals with her hand. ‘Turn yer hearing aid up, Grandma Cordy. You ain’t makin’ sense.’

  ‘There’s no need to shout,’ the elderly woman retorted. ‘I should think they could hear you in Scotland!’

  ‘Only if they remember to turn up their hearing aids,’ Ivy muttered, rolling her eyes and stuffing down more food.

  ‘What’s that? What did you say?’ Cordelia fiddled with her hearing aid and winced as it screeched.

  Rita and Ivy stifled their giggles and bowed their heads over their plates to hide their amusement.

  Ivy and Rita were a couple of naughty imps and Peggy shot them a glare of warning to behave – for all the good it would do. She then settled Daisy in her chair and made sure her food wasn’t too hot before she tucked into her own meal.

  Once the initial pangs of hunger had been satisfied, she turned to Fran who was looking very pretty in a moss-green cardigan she’d knitted that enhanced the colour of her lovely Irish eyes. ‘No Robert tonight?’

  ‘He’s working late up at Castle Hill Fort,’ Fran replied. ‘There’s some sort of flap on as usual, so if it isn’t resolved, he’ll probably have to spend the night up there.’

  Robert’s work for the MOD was a complete mystery to all of them, and it wasn’t unusual for him to stay at the Napoleonic fortress overnight, but Peggy understood how difficult it made things for the newly-weds. She cleared her plate and gave a sigh of satisfaction. ‘That was delicious and very welcome, Fran,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how you managed it, but the potato topping was scrumptious.’

  Fran went pink with pleasure. ‘I just made up a little dried egg and mustard powder with some water and a smidgeon of grated cheese and brushed it over the really thinly sliced potato,’ she said. ‘It was a trick I learned from Mammy when we had no butter or flour to make pastry.’

  Peggy saw the sadness in Fran’s eyes and reached for her hand. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from Ireland?’

  Fran shook her head, her copper tresses glinting in the firelight. ‘All me letters have been sent back unopened,’ she replied. ‘To be sure, they meant what they said, and I’ll not be hearing from them again.’

  ‘Oh, Fran,’ sighed Peggy. ‘I’m so sorry to hear you say that. Is there really no hope they’ll come round to you having married Robert?’

  Fran tossed back her hair in an effort to appear defiant. ‘I’ve made me bed, and now I must lie in it,’ she said firmly. ‘But once this war’s over, Robert and I have decided to go to Ireland and make them face up to the fact that I’ll not be cast out of their lives just because they’re so blinkered and cruel – and we’ll fight to make them understand that the old ways are not always the best.’

  A heavy silence fell, for no one knew what to say in the light of such a desperately sad situation.

  Ron clattered his cutlery on his empty plate. ‘It strikes me that religion is the cause of too many troubles,’ he said grumpily. ‘And we’d all be better off without it.’

  ‘I take it things didn’t go too well with Father O’Leary,’ Peggy teased.

  ‘We had our usual exchange of opinions, so we did,’ he replied sourly. ‘I’m thinking he gets lonely stuck out there and is enjoying making me life a misery. To be sure, he can argue the legs off a table given half the chance.’

  ‘He’s not the only one,’ Peggy replied, trying not to laugh. ‘Especially if there’s whisky involved,’ she added with a glint in her eye.

  ‘Oh, aye, we might have had a drop or two,’ he conceded. ‘To help oil the wheels so to speak – but the man still talks a lot of drivel if you ask me.’

  ‘So you’ll be going to Mass from now on?’ Peggy continued. ‘That’ll be nice. We can walk up there together for the early service on Sunday mornings.’

  Ron glared at her and heaved himself out of the kitchen chair. ‘Don’t be counting your chickens just yet,’ he rumbled. ‘There’s time enough for all that palaver – for now I’m taking Monty home to Rosie.’

  Peggy eyed him sharply. ‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you, Ron?’

  ‘If I am, then you’ll hear about it soon enough,’ he muttered.

  ‘But you can’t let Rosie down,’ she gasped. ‘You know how much store she’s set on having a church wedding.’

  ‘Aye, and that’s the rub,’ he said on a deep sigh. ‘Leave it be, Peggy. Me head’s pounding with it all, and I’m in no mood to be answering any more questions on the subject.’ He grabbed his army issue greatcoat he’d kept after the First World War and dragged it on over his tweed jacket and smart trousers, his expression making it clear the conversation was at an end.

  Peggy knew that when Ron was in this sort of mood she’d get nothing more out of him – but it was all very worrying. She could only pray that he wouldn’t do or say anything to throw a spanner in the works when everything seemed to be going so smoothly after what could only have been called a roller-coaster courtship of many years.

  She watched him pull his new tweed cap over his thick salt and pepper hair, and remembered she’d yet to tell him her news. ‘Before you go there’s something I need to tell you,’ she said quickly.

  He eyed her from beneath his brows, his bright blue eyes suspicious. ‘Oh aye?’

  Peggy met his gaze and told him about her new job. ‘And before you say anything, Ronan Reilly, he’s paying me six guineas a week.’

  The blue eyes widened and there was a chorus of gasps from the others. ‘Well now, that’s a fine amount of money,’ he replied, ‘but what sort of hours is he expecting from you for that?’

  ‘The same as always, although I might go in an hour earlier than usual once we get busy,’ she admitted. ‘It’s a godsend, Ron, and will more than make up for the rent I’ll be losing when you move out.’

  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘Aye, that it certainly will. I was worrying you’d be left short.’

  ‘I’m concerned that you’re trying to do too much,’ said Fran. ‘I’m sure Robert and I can pay a bit more rent if that would help.’

  ‘You’re paying quite enough,’ said Peggy firmly. ‘And I’m looking forward to doing more at the factory, so don’t worry on my behalf.’

  Sarah, who’d remained silent throughout all this, leaned forward and took Peggy’s hand. ‘It’s wonderful news, Peggy, and we’re all delighted for you.’

  ‘I know it’s asking a bit much to expect you to help about the place and so on, but with Jim and the rest of the family away, I’d go mad sitting about here doing nothing.’

  ‘Hmph,’ snorted Ivy. ‘Chance’d be a fine thing. You’re never still.’

  ‘We’ll help out whenever we can, you know that,’ said Rita, ‘but what will you do when this war finally ends? Will you carry on working?’

  Peggy shrugged. ‘I have no idea,’ she replied, ‘but once I get used to earning that much money, I doubt I’ll give it up in a hurry.’

  ‘Jim won’t like it,’ said Cordelia.

  ‘He’s not in a position to have an opinion,’ said Peggy with rather more defiance than she actually felt. ‘He and I will discuss all that when he comes home,’ she added firmly, thereby bringing the subject to a close.

  Rosie had spent the afternoon with the dressmaker having a second fitting for her wedding outfit, and she’d returned to the Anchor with a gorgeous hat she’d purchased in Plummer’s department store that would complete the outfit perfectly.

  She ran up the stairs to her rooms above the Anchor, rather surprised to find no sign of Ron or Monty – which meant that either Ron was still at the church or he’d taken Monty home to Beach View whilst he fixed Peggy’s leaking pipe. Whichever was the case, she was quite glad to have the place to herself, for she was eager to try on her hat again.

  Shedding her coat and scarf, she hurried into the bedroom and opened the hatbox to carefully draw out the scrumptious confection of velv
et, lace and net. It was half a hat, really, and had cost her a whole guinea, but as she regarded her reflection in the mirror, she knew it was worth every brass farthing.

  The broad, dark blue band of velvet sat perfectly over her crown amid the curls and waves of her platinum hair; the clusters of pale blue lace rosettes on either side lifting it out of the ordinary – as did the delicate, bird-cage netting which veiled her face and added a touch of mystery and glamour. ‘Perfect,’ she breathed. ‘Just perfect.’

  Rosie had taken great care in choosing what she’d wear for her big day, for she was in her early fifties and it was an awkward age for any woman – especially one who was about to walk down the aisle. There was always the danger of overdoing things and ending up looking like mutton dressed as lamb, but on the other hand she had a real dread of turning into a frump.

  She put the hat back in its box and stowed it away on top of the wardrobe in the spare room. Today’s fitting had pleased her, for the pale blue jersey dress and coat bridged the gap between mutton and frump, and with her white fox fur stole and the new hat, she’d be a sophisticated and very glamorous bride. Ron couldn’t fail to be impressed, and she could barely contain her excitement at the thought.

  Returning to her kitchen, she discovered she had enough time to make a cup of tea before she had to open up for the evening session, so she put the kettle on and went to get changed into the black skirt and white blouse she always wore behind the bar. She had two identical skirts and blouses which had become her uniform over the years, and although they were definitely showing their age now, they saved her good clothes from getting spoiled from beer splatters and the general wear and tear of running a busy pub.

  She made the tea and went into the sitting room to stand by the window to drink it. It was after five-thirty, but Camden Road was still busy with straggling queues of last-minute shoppers hoping to find anything useful or edible from the sadly depleted shop shelves. A cluster of children were kicking a can about with noisy enthusiasm in the road, and a large ginger tom was sitting hopefully outside Fred the Fish’s shop, tail twitching in anticipation that Fred would relent for once and throw him a morsel – which was most unlikely, for the housewives wasted nothing these days and everything went into the pot to make stock or soup.