Shelter From the Storm

by Ellie Dean

  April heard the catch in her voice. ‘What is it, Peggy? Don’t you approve of their romance?’

  Peggy shook her head, sniffed and seemed to make an effort to pull herself together. ‘It’s the best thing for both of them, if only a certain person could see that,’ she said firmly. ‘Take no notice of me, April. I’ve just had a very long and rather fraught day.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ sighed April. ‘And my arriving so late probably hasn’t helped at all. I should have been firm with Stan and made my own way here.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ said Peggy. She wheeled the bike up the hill and turned into a rather rutted back alley. ‘I couldn’t possibly have let you walk alone in a strange town with so many drunken servicemen roaming about in the blackout. What would your mother think?’

  April noted the bright curiosity in her brown eyes and realised she couldn’t continue to lie to her. ‘I doubt my mother would be particularly concerned,’ she said evenly. ‘We’ve never been close.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ sighed Peggy. ‘That’s an awful shame when there’s so much trouble in the world.’ The curiosity was back in her eyes. ‘Is that why you’re here? Wouldn’t she let you stay with her?’

  ‘Something like that,’ murmured April, unwilling to go into detail.

  Peggy must have noted her reluctance to add anything further, for she shot her a warm smile and then pushed the bike through the gate and leaned it against the back wall. ‘Well, here it is,’ she said, taking in the house and garden with an expansive sweep of her arm. ‘Home sweet home, warts and all.’ She plucked the tin of scones from the basket. ‘Let’s get you inside so you can meet the others before we have our tea.’

  April took her case from the back of the bike and followed Peggy into what looked like a basement scullery. She could hear the murmur of voices and the tramp of feet overhead, and began to feel nervous about meeting another set of strangers.

  A great brindled, leggy dog hurtled down the stone steps and she cowered back to protect her arm as it tried to leap up and lick her face.

  ‘To be sure, wee girl, Harvey will do you no harm,’ said the scruffy man who came down the steps in his stocking feet to grab the dog’s collar. ‘Will ye sit, ye heathen beast, and not be a nuisance?’

  ‘This is my father-in-law, Ron,’ said Peggy. ‘You’ll get used to him and Harvey soon enough – the pair of them are rogues and as scruffy and disobedient as each other.’

  April nodded to Ron and tentatively put out her hand to pat the dog’s head. She was rewarded with twinkling blue eyes from Ron and an enthusiastic squirm and lick from Harvey.

  ‘Welcome to Beach View,’ said Ron, taking charge of her case. ‘Now I’ll take this up to your room and then I’ll be off on fire-watch.’

  ‘But I told you—’

  ‘Now, Peggy,’ he forestalled her. ‘There’s a war on, and I can’t be letting the side down by not turning up for me watch, can I?’

  April noted how Peggy’s lips thinned at this and wondered fleetingly why she was cross with him. He seemed affable enough, even though he looked like a tramp, but there was definitely a naughty gleam in his eyes, so it probably wasn’t anything too serious.

  They followed Ron and Harvey up the concrete steps and walked into a shabby, badly lit kitchen that was warmed by a glowing fire in the range, the aroma of cooking, and a happy atmosphere. A small black cat was sitting on a shelf by the stone sink, bright eyes watching everything rather imperiously; Harvey had slumped down in front of the range and a little girl was pushing a toy horse about the floor. April felt a stab of anxiety as she realised everyone was looking at her, but as they were smiling, she told herself not to be so feeble and smiled back.

  ‘This is April,’ said Peggy. She shed her coat and gloves and made the introductions as Ron returned to the kitchen to pull on a long coat which seemed to have lots of pockets.

  April discovered that Fran did indeed possess an abundance of curly auburn hair and a bright smile that lit up her amazing green eyes. Rita and Ivy were like two peas in a pod, both small and dark-haired with impish grins and a rather odd taste in clothing, and Sarah was tall and slim and very elegant by contrast. Daisy looked up at her from the floor, her dark curls in a tangle, her sweet little face smeared with what looked like coal and jam.

  ‘Oh, Ron,’ sighed Peggy, cleaning the child’s face with a damp flannel. ‘I told you not to let her get into the anthracite.’

  ‘Ach, to be sure, the wee girl must have done it when me back was turned,’ he said airily.

  ‘She’s not the only one to get into mischief, Ronan Reilly,’ she retorted darkly.

  Ron’s eyebrows twitched. ‘Why, what have you been up to, Peggy girl?’

  Peggy glared at him and he hastily shoved his feet into wellingtons and disappeared down the steps and out of the back door with Harvey close behind him.

  Peggy sighed in exasperation and then continued her introductions as an elderly woman came into the kitchen. ‘This is Cordelia,’ she said fondly. ‘She’s been part of the family for many years and I’m sure you’ll come to love her just as much as we all do.’

  April smiled at the tiny, birdlike woman who was beaming up at her and they shook hands. ‘It’s lovely to meet you all,’ she said to the room in general. ‘I’m sorry I’m so late, but the train was delayed and took ages.’

  Cordelia frowned. ‘I know it would be lovely to have meat on your plate, dear, but I’m afraid it’s only vegetable stew again tonight.’ She shrugged. ‘But we do have cabbages and grain, although I can’t see why you’d want it.’

  Now it was April’s turn to be puzzled. She heard the girls giggling and looked to Peggy for an explanation.

  ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to Cordelia’s funny ways,’ Peggy said. ‘She forgets to turn her hearing aid up and doesn’t always hear things correctly.’ She shook her head as April was about to repeat what she said. ‘I wouldn’t bother, dear, she’ll only get even more muddled.’

  April nodded and smiled at Cordelia, and then took off her coat and hung it on the hook behind the door. Turning back towards the table she caught Fran looking at her midriff and felt the colour rising in her face.

  Fran chuckled. ‘Sorry, April, but Peggy didn’t tell us you’re expecting. What are you, four, five months gone?’

  ‘It’s due in September,’ she replied, sitting down quickly at the table.

  ‘Oh, how lovely,’ twittered Cordelia, who’d obviously turned up her hearing aid. ‘Another little baby in the house. You must be so excited, dear.’

  ‘More nervous than excited,’ admitted April, feeling horribly exposed and awkward at being the centre of attention. ‘I’ve never had one before.’

  ‘Ach, you’re not to be worrying yourself,’ said Fran. ‘I’ll keep an eye on you and make sure you get the best care, and once it’s here, you’ll have all of us watching over you both. It can’t be easy being on your own at a time like this.’

  April felt hemmed in and longed to escape as the other girls plied her with questions about her non-existent fiancé, how they’d met, where he was, and what had happened to forestall their wedding plans.

  ‘Leave the poor girl be,’ said Peggy rather sharply. ‘Can’t you see you’re overwhelming her with all your questions, and she’s barely caught her breath, let alone got a decent meal inside her. Hush now, and get on with your tea.’

  April caught her eye in gratitude and then dipped her head so no one could see just how close she was to bursting into tears. She’d never known such warmth and affection, and she was riddled with guilt that she couldn’t be honest with them for fear of them rejecting her. Yet it seemed that in this house of strangers, in the glow of their genuine interest and kindliness, she had – for now, at least – found sanctuary.

  With the delicious supper over, and the scones devoured with relish, all the girls helped wash up and clear away while Peggy settled Daisy for the night in her bedroom off the hall. Cordelia sat down to listen to the wireless w
ith Queenie purring in her lap, and Fran reluctantly left the house to go on night shift at the nearby hospital. Sarah disappeared upstairs to write letters, Ivy shot off to meet her boyfriend Andy at the Anchor and Rita was using the last of the daylight to tinker with the engine of her motorbike.

  April sipped from her cup of tea as she leaned against the back wall and watched the other girl’s nimble fingers adjusting plugs and wires. ‘Where did you learn to do that?’

  ‘My dad taught me,’ Rita replied, wrestling with a recalcitrant screw. ‘We rebuilt this old bike together, you know. He had a garage, you see, and for as long as I can remember, I used to sit and watch him servicing and repairing engines. I suppose it’s only natural that I picked up something along the way.’ She looked up at April and grinned. ‘What about you? I understand you were in the Wrens.’

  ‘They taught me the basics so I could strip down and service the engines in motor gun boats and motor torpedo boats, but I wouldn’t know where to start on something like that.’

  Rita nodded and continued to battle with the screw until she had it loosened. ‘It must have been great fun in the Wrens,’ she said. ‘I wanted to go into the WAAFs originally. A pal of mine’s flying Spitfires now, and I’ve ended up driving fire engines.’

  ‘Yes, I loved my time there, but why didn’t you go into the WAAFs?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ Rita explained how she’d had to look after the English wife of her Italian neighbour when he and their son had been interned, and how she’d been offered the job at the fire station, and much to her surprise had learned to love it.

  ‘I wouldn’t swap my job for anything now,’ she said. ‘It’s exciting and a bit scary at times, but they’re a good bunch at the station and I feel I’m really doing something worthwhile.’

  April nodded with understanding. That was how she’d felt until the navy had kicked her out. ‘I know Fran’s a nurse, but what about the other girls?’ she asked.

  Rita replaced the plugs and started to check the wiring. ‘Ivy works up at the factory that makes bits of plane, and Sarah works for the Women’s Timber Corps in their office on the Cliffe estate.’

  ‘So you’re all doing your bit while I’m hanging about doing nothing,’ sighed April. ‘And I really need to do something, Rita, because I feel such a fraud. There’s nothing physically wrong with me apart from this broken wrist, and I’m sure I could find something.’

  ‘There’s always voluntary work,’ Rita said. ‘But of course that doesn’t pay. I’ll have a word with my boss John Hicks and see if he needs help in the office or something.’

  ‘Thanks, Rita, that would be kind.’

  Rita grinned up at her. ‘You remind me of Kitty, who used to live here for a bit,’ she said. ‘She talked posh too and was always impatient to be out and about doing something despite the fact she’d lost a leg.’

  April listened as Rita told her the uplifting story of Kitty Pargeter, marvelling at how the girl had overcome her disability and returned to flying with the Air Transport Auxiliary.

  ‘She’s married now and her husband’s a Spitfire pilot up at Cliffe aerodrome, where my chap Matt is flying bombers, and Peggy’s son-in-law is the Wing Commander.’ She finished the service and wiped her dirty hands on a scrap of old towelling. ‘Right, that’s me done. I’m off to the Anchor for a beer. Want to come with me?’

  April shook her head. ‘Maybe another night. I’m tired after a long day and need to get some sleep after that filling meal.’

  Rita grinned. ‘Peggy’s lovely, isn’t she? You’ll be all right here, April, and I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Peggy asked you to stay after your baby’s born. She fusses over us like a mother hen, and I can’t see her turning you away until the end of the war when your chap can come home and look after you himself.’

  April couldn’t reply to this for the lump in her throat, so she just smiled and waved as Rita left for the pub.

  ‘There you are,’ said Peggy when she returned to the kitchen to find that Cordelia had nodded off in her fireside chair. ‘You and Rita getting to know one another, were you?’

  At April’s nod she shot her a beaming smile. ‘I’m not surprised. You’re about the same age and she’s a sweet girl, even though she’s an untidy imp and dresses like a boy most of the time in that awful First World War flying jacket.’ She replenished the kettle and put it on the hob. ‘Would you like some more tea? Or cocoa? You need lots of milk to help build you up now.’

  ‘Actually, Peggy, I’m really tired. Would you mind if I went to bed?’

  ‘Of course not, dear. What was I thinking of? Come on, I’ll show you your room and where everything is, then you can settle in and get all the rest you need.’

  April was shown the dining room which had been virtually abandoned since the war had begun and the rationing of coal had made it impractical to light two fires, and then they went up the stairs to the first landing. She noted that the carpet was threadbare in places, the paint on the woodwork cracked and yellowed with age and the wallpaper was coming loose where damp had got in. It was a far cry from her mother’s immaculate house, but that didn’t matter a jot, for the atmosphere and the homeliness made up for everything else.

  ‘Cordelia is in there next to the toilet and the bathroom,’ said Peggy, ‘and Rita and Ivy are sharing the big double at the front of the house. Fran and Sarah are upstairs. I’ve put you in here because it’s cosy and close to the lav.’ She grinned. ‘I remember how it was when I was expecting Daisy.’

  Peggy opened the door and switched on the light. Blackout curtains were tightly drawn beneath pretty chintz ones that matched the bedspread, there was a lovely smell of beeswax coming from the polished furniture and the pillows looked hugely inviting. There was a bedside chest with a night light and a stack of well-thumbed paperback books sitting on it, and on the floor was a hand-made rag rug of many colours. An amateurish painting depicting what she recognised as Cliffehaven promenade hung on one wall, and there was a small posy of spring flowers in a vase on top of the chest of drawers.

  ‘It’s really lovely, Peggy. Thank you so much,’ she managed.

  Peggy patted her cheek. ‘You settle in, dear, and I’ll see you in the morning.’

  April sank onto the bed as Peggy quietly closed the door. She could hear old wood creaking and the gurgle of water through pipes, but the blankets beneath her fingers were soft, the sheets and pillowcases crisp and smelling of fresh air and sunshine. She kicked off her shoes and went to turn off the light so she could look out of the window.

  It was almost dark now, the last of the light merely pale streaks of grey in the gathering gloom above the rooftops of the surrounding houses, but as she opened the window she could hear the sea hissing on shingle and the sleepy cries of the few gulls that still floated overhead, and smell the salty tang on the air, and the scent of warmed earth from the vegetable garden at the back of the house.

  She stood there lost in thought, remembering Paula, the grief raw as she struggled to accept the swiftness of her departure and the sheer weight of pain that the past weeks had dealt her. She took a shuddering breath, determined to stay positive and hopeful that her new start amongst these people who seemed so welcoming would help and encourage her to look forward and learn to trust again. And yet, by the very nature of her deceit, she was already building barriers between them.

  Impatient with her ever-circling and conflicting thoughts, she closed the window and drew the blackouts tightly across it, then switched on the bedside light and began to unpack. Tomorrow she would explore the town, register with a doctor, the billeting people and the local shops and then try and find a job. It would be a new day – the first of her new life – and she was determined to make the very best of the opportunity to start again.

  Peggy was still sitting in her kitchen long after she’d helped Cordelia to bed. The cat had abandoned her lap for the dubious comfort of Ron’s bed, and the girls had finally settled down to sleep after their night ou
t. The wireless was playing chamber music softly in the background as she knitted yet another pair of socks for the comfort boxes. It was late and she was exhausted after yet another long day, but she was determined to catch Ron when he came in.

  As she knitted and listened to the lovely music, her thoughts wandered to April. The girl reminded her a bit of Kitty Pargeter in her looks and the way she spoke, but she certainly didn’t seem to have Kitty’s fighting spirit – in fact she looked rather defeated and almost afraid of her own shadow. It was to be expected, she supposed; being on her own and pregnant, her young chap away fighting and her mother obviously not caring what happened to her. She’d also had to give up her job in the Wrens, which must have been an awful blow, and now, here she was, adrift and probably feeling very alone.

  Poor little lost girl, so young and in need of love and care. It was shocking how some mothers could simply abandon their children to strangers when all they really needed was love and warmth and someone to rely upon. But she’ll be all right here, Peggy thought firmly. I’ll see she’s looked after, and the girls will rally round as they always do, bless them.

  Peggy sighed. There were too many lonely people in the world, bereft of family and everything they’d once known because of this blasted war. And she knew from experience that loneliness could be even harder when surrounded by people – for there had been times recently that she’d been in a crowded room when suddenly the longing for Jim and her children had swept over her in a great wave and she’d felt so very isolated, even though she’d carried on smiling and pretending everything was all right.

  She put her knitting aside and gazed up at the photographs lining the mantelpiece. There was Jim looking so darkly handsome in his uniform, his eyes glinting with a secret message just for her; and Cissy in her WAAF uniform, arm in arm with her young American pilot; and Anne with her baby Emily and little Rose Margaret, sitting at the farmhouse window down in Somerset. And her boys, Bob and Charlie, larking about in the back garden before she’d had to send them away. Only God knew how that had broken her heart, and she could only pray to Him that the war ended before Bob was called up – he would be sixteen in a matter of months and was already almost as tall as his father.