by Ellie Dean
She blinked and brushed away her tears, still trying to come to terms with the fact that her family was scattered to the four winds. All she could do was carry on believing they’d all make it through safely to pick up the threads of their lives together again – and continue to protect and nurture the girls who’d come to Beach View in search of shelter.
This applied especially to April. If the war hadn’t ended by the time her baby arrived, then she’d be more than welcome to stay until her young man came home. A girl and her baby would be no burden, and Daisy could probably do with being taken down a peg or two and made to share. She was in danger of becoming spoilt.
Peggy stared into the meagre fire, her thoughts going over April’s arrival at Beach View. She didn’t like to admit it, even to herself, but there was something about the girl that didn’t quite feel right, but try as she might, she simply couldn’t put a finger on it. Perhaps she was just tired after that long, interrupted and frustrating journey, and overwhelmed by having to meet so many people at once and answer their questions. But there had been a definite reluctance to discuss her fiancé even in the vaguest of terms, and Peggy wondered why.
‘Now, Peggy, stop that,’ she said sternly. ‘The poor girl has enough to contend with without you poking and prying into what isn’t any of your business.’
‘Talking to yourself again, I see,’ rumbled Ron as he came into the kitchen with Harvey. ‘It’s the first sign of madness, Peg. You should be careful.’
Peggy packed her knitting away and went to make a fresh pot of tea while he fed Harvey. ‘I’m halfway round the bend already,’ she said, ‘trying to keep tabs on everyone and sorting out their mischief.’
He raised his bushy eyebrows. ‘Oh aye? And what mischief would that be then?’
She stirred the leaves in the pot and left them to mash while she hunted out cups and the last of the rather stale biscuits. ‘The mischief that some people get up to when they think no one’s looking,’ she said, plumping down on the chair beside him.
Ron poured out their tea and passed her cup across. ‘You’re talking in riddles, Peggy girl. Why don’t you just tell me straight what’s eating you?’
It was all the opening she needed. ‘Who was that man you were talking to this lunchtime?’
‘A government official who was asking the way to the town hall,’ he replied, his gaze steadily meeting hers. ‘Nice chap. Turns out I knew his uncle.’
‘And what would a government official want with our town hall?’
He shrugged. ‘To be sure it was no business of mine, so I didn’t ask.’
‘He looked very smart, not like most of the inspectors we get.’
‘He’s young and keen and probably feels he needs to make a good impression, I expect.’ Ron sipped his tea and gave Harvey half the soggy biscuit. ‘I don’t know why you’re so suspicious,’ he said. ‘It’s not as if our meeting was clandestine.’
‘Wasn’t it?’ she countered. ‘You both came out of that office building together and were talking very seriously before you went your separate ways.’ She folded her arms, her gaze steady, determined to get a straight answer out of him.
He gave a deep sigh, dunked the remains of the biscuit in the tea and popped it in his mouth. ‘I was in the office trying to persuade the powers that be to give us more rifles and ammunition for the Home Guard. We met in the lift, so of course we talked – it would have been rude not to.’
She supposed she had to accept his explanation, but she still didn’t quite believe that was all there was to it. ‘It seemed to be a very serious conversation you were having,’ she probed.
‘Ach, Peggy, we were just two strangers passing the time of day.’
It hadn’t looked like that to her, but she let it pass for now. ‘So, what’s down that alleyway you keep disappearing into? The one by the Crown?’
He grinned back at her. ‘It’s a short cut to Camden Road,’ he replied.
‘It also leads to the back yard of the Crown,’ she retorted.
‘Aye, so it does. And what of it?’
Peggy saw the teasing glitter in his eyes and realised he wouldn’t tell her anything he didn’t want to, no matter how much she badgered him. ‘Are you messing about with Gloria Stevens?’ she asked baldly.
He chuckled and shook his head. ‘You can think what you like, Peggy darlin’, but I’ll not be satisfying that awful curiosity of yours tonight, or any other night for that matter.’ The smile slipped a fraction and there was an unusual, slightly disturbing edge to his voice. ‘Just know that what I get up to is my business and it would be unwise for anyone to meddle in it – and that includes you, Peggy Reilly.’
Peggy tried to hold his gaze, but was the first to look away. ‘Right,’ she managed. ‘If you say so, Ron.’
He nodded, finished his tea and pushed back from the table. ‘Aye, I do that. Loose lips sink ships, remember.’
Peggy had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but his expression brooked no further argument so she nodded.
He leaned towards her. ‘You have to trust me, Peggy,’ he said more gently. ‘And keep that tongue still.’ He clicked his fingers at Harvey and they went down the cellar steps to his bedroom, the kitchen door closing quietly behind them.
Peggy’s hand was unsteady as she lit a cigarette and sat there in the silence. Whatever Ron was up to, he meant to keep it to himself, and she felt horribly uneasy about the whole thing. Was he carrying on with Gloria? He hadn’t denied it. And yet, if he was, then perhaps, after realising she was suspicious, he would bring an end to it. Jim had always backed away the moment she’d let him know she was aware of his latest distraction – but this was Ron, and she really had no right to question his behaviour.
She finally stubbed out the cigarette, dampened down the fire for the night and switched off the light. However, as she lay in her bed and stared up at the flickering shadows cast by the night light, she was still fretting.
19
April woke early and used the bathroom before the rest of the house had begun to stir. Returning to her room, she got dressed and then pulled back the blackouts and curtains and opened the window to breathe in the salty air and listen to the waves sighing over the shingle.
It was the first week of May and although the early morning sun had yet to reach the back garden where the dew glistened, the sky was an eggshell blue, promising fine weather. She leaned on the windowsill to enjoy the vista of surrounding houses and the distant hills lined with trees, feeling much more positive about things. She’d slept surprisingly well considering the emotional turmoil she’d been through, and was ready to face this new day with optimism.
She eventually turned away from the window and regarded the room which already felt far more homely than the one back in Rosemary Cottage. She’d stowed her suitcase above the wardrobe where she’d hung her few second-hand clothes, and placed the photograph album she’d brought with her on top of the dresser alongside the vase of early blooms. There was a photograph of her father, and another of Paula that she’d found in the album, propped against the vase, and she’d laid out the rather fancy hairbrush and comb set she’d discovered in a box in her mother’s attic on the kidney-shaped dressing table. She didn’t have much, but it was all she needed.
The house was slowly coming to life, the sound of footsteps overhead and on the stairs telling her that the other girls were preparing to have their breakfast and go to work. She swiftly made the bed, smoothed the pretty counterpane over it and then checked her appearance in the dressing-table mirror.
She still looked pale, but the bruising was very faint, and there were no longer any shadows under her eyes. The straight black skirt had an elasticated waist, so it was comfortable, and the shirt and cardigan were loose enough to cover her pregnancy. She slipped her feet into the rather clumpy black shoes, tied the laces and then opened the door.
‘Good morning, dear,’ trilled Cordelia from her own bedroom door. ‘My goodness, you look as if
you’ve had a good sleep.’
‘I did, thank you, Mrs Finch.’
Bright blue eyes twinkled up at her. ‘My girls all call me Grandma,’ she said. ‘And I hope you will too, dear. Now, could I just get you to help me balance down these stairs, I’m always a bit unsteady first thing in the morning when I have so much to carry down.’
April realised she was laden with a knitting bag, a gas-mask box, a handbag and walking stick. She took charge of the handbag and box by hooking their straps over her shoulder, tucked the knitting bag under her arm and then took Cordelia’s soft, gnarled hand. Making certain she was holding tight to the banisters, they slowly descended.
‘These stairs must be a bit of a trial for you,’ she said as they finally reached the hallway.
‘Not at all, dear,’ Cordelia said. ‘I only use them twice a day – and if I’ve forgotten something, one of the girls will always run up and get it for me.’ She chuckled as she headed for the kitchen. ‘There are some advantages to being old, as you will no doubt discover one day, and with so many willing young legs able to run about after me, I’m treated like a queen.’
April smiled as she followed her. Cordelia certainly seemed to enjoy her regal status, and she couldn’t blame her, for who wouldn’t revel in being cherished?
Peggy turned from the cooking range as they entered the room and shot them both a warm smile. ‘Good morning,’ she said brightly. ‘It’s going to be a lovely day by the look of it, and the chickens have come up trumps, so we’ve all got an egg this morning.’
April smiled back and settled Cordelia at the table, placing her bags and things by the fireside chair. She returned the greetings from the girls who were already tucking into their boiled egg, bread and tea, and gave a shy smile to Ron who was slathering margarine onto a doorstep-sized slice of wheatmeal toast. Queenie was lapping at a saucer of milk while Harvey was sitting eagle-eyed by the table waiting for someone to notice he needed a tit-bit or three to supplement his own breakfast and get him through the morning.
‘Sit down, dear,’ said Peggy. ‘And eat that before it gets cold.’
April slid into the empty chair next to Cordelia and eagerly tucked into the bowl of porridge.
‘I put the top of the milk on it,’ said Peggy. ‘I don’t know what the navy was feeding you, but it certainly wasn’t enough by the look of you.’ She patted April’s shoulder. ‘I’ll soon put some meat on those little bones, don’t you worry.’
April blushed as she chuckled. ‘I’ve always been skinny, and I doubt that’ll change.’
‘You don’t want to be taking any notice of Peggy,’ rumbled Ron. ‘She’s as bad as Stan’s Ethel when it comes to trying to fatten us all up. Though how she does it on the ridiculous rations we all have to put up with, I don’t know.’
Peggy placed a boiled egg and a slice of toast in front of April and whipped away her empty bowl. ‘Ethel has the advantage of being friendly with the girls in the factory canteen and the land girls up at Cliffe,’ she said. ‘Isn’t it about time you managed to use that Irish charm of yours to get me a bit of extra butter, or cheese?’
He eyed her from beneath his brows. ‘I got you pork a couple of months ago,’ he reminded her.
‘Yes, it was lovely and I’m very grateful, but it caused a lot of trouble with Doris, remember?’
‘Aye, well, your sister would have an argument with herself, given half the chance,’ he retorted. ‘Now I’ll be off to fetch Monty. The ferrets need exercise, so maybe I’ll be coming home with a rabbit or two.’
‘If you happen to spot a couple of pheasants who look as if they’re about to climb into your pockets, ignore them, will you?’ she said drily. ‘They’re too much bother.’
Ron gave a great, weary sigh and pulled on his poaching coat. ‘To be sure I’m surrounded by women who are never satisfied,’ he grumbled good-naturedly. ‘I’ll see if Lord Cliffe’s salmon are more obliging.’
‘Don’t you dare,’ warned Peggy sharply. ‘That gamekeeper’s got your measure, and if he catches you near the salmon ponds you’ll be in jail before you can blink.’
‘If he catches me.’ Ron winked and clumped down the steps to the basement.
April saw that Peggy wasn’t at all happy with her father-in-law’s rather liberal attitude to poaching and gamekeepers, but as it was clearly something he did on a frequent basis, she supposed Peggy had become inured to it.
‘He’s an old scallywag,’ said Cordelia, ‘and one of these days he will get caught. But the pot would have been empty many a time without his poaching, so we all keep our fingers crossed and just hope he’s as clever as he thinks he is.’
April giggled and then tucked into the boiled egg. She was going to enjoy living here.
One by one the girls washed their plates and left for work, cheerfully wishing her good luck on finding a job. Peggy cleaned Daisy’s face and lifted her out of the high chair so she could toddle about with her doll’s pram. She topped up the teacups and then set about writing a list.
‘I’ve got shopping to do, so I’ll come with you this morning. I’ll need to register you with the billeting people and show you the way around the town.’ She smiled across at April. ‘I don’t want you getting lost on your first day.’
‘I’m sure I could manage to find my way around if you have lots to do,’ April said. ‘I really don’t want to be a bother.’
‘You’re no bother,’ Peggy replied, ‘and I like showing off my town, even if it is looking a bit ragged at the edges now.’
April smiled at her and finished her egg on the last bit of toast just as the rattle of the letterbox heralded the arrival of the morning’s post. She watched Peggy rush out into the hall and return with quite a stack of letters which she was swiftly sifting through.
‘There’s one for you from Canada,’ she said to Cordelia, ‘two for Rita – from her father by the look of the writing, one for Fran – probably her mother writing from Ireland, and several for Sarah, which includes an air letter from her mother in Australia.’
She put aside the letters and ran her hands over the airgraphs. ‘And I’ve got two from Jim,’ she said softly, ‘but I’ll read them later when I’ve got a spare minute.’
‘Tell me what you need me to do so you can read them now,’ urged April. ‘I can see how much you’re longing to.’
Peggy regarded her for a long moment, her eyes suspiciously bright. ‘Thank you, dear, that’s kind – and don’t fret, I’m sure your young man will write as soon as he knows where to reach you.’
April nodded and dredged up a reassuring smile. ‘I’m sure he will, yes,’ she murmured. She pushed away from the table and began to clear the last of the dishes. ‘I’ll do these while you enjoy your letters.’
Peggy eagerly tore open the brown envelope and devoured the cramped writing. Jim had been moved again to another camp further north, and his friend Ernie was also with him. They’d taken Patch along and loaded up their truck with all the comforts of their previous billet because they didn’t know what conditions they’d find at such an outpost.
It turned out the basha – bamboo hut – was all but falling down, the rush thatch rotting from the heat and the monsoon rains, and alive with fleas and creepy-crawlies. There was a fast-flowing river running close to camp which meant the mosquitoes weren’t quite so bothersome, but there was now the danger of frequent flooding as the rainwater came off the mountains to swell the river. With the help of the natives, they’d built another basha on firmer, flat ground well away from the river, and had then had to set to and repair the machine shops which were in a terribly dilapidated state.
Jim was furious to discover that the local mechanics were untrained, couldn’t speak a word of English and actually hardly knew one end of a Studebaker from the other. He complained to his superior officer, which got him nowhere, and had to roll up his sleeves and start to educate his mechanics as quickly as possible, because the workload was so great it would have been impossible for him and E
rnie to get through it on their own.
The bright side of all this was the nearby tea plantation where the Scottish owner was so bored with his own company that he insisted Jim and Ernie visited him each night for what he called ‘tiffin’ and a jolly good feast served rather grandly by numerous servants. These sessions involved a great deal of home-made hooch, which Jim was convinced would have him blind before the war was over, or at the very least rot his guts.
He still had the portable stove he’d ‘won’ from a man who was in Signals, and they supplemented their diet with frequent fry-ups consisting of bully beef, eggs and tins of the Americans’ baked beans. The basha now had twin bathtubs, electric light, fans and comfortable beds, and he and Ernie had educated the native servants in the proper way to look after His Majesty’s soldiers, so all in all, it wasn’t too bad.
He loved her and missed her intensely, and although it was wonderful to get everyone’s letters and cards, and the snapshots Peggy had sent, they couldn’t make up for the fact that they were parted by an ocean. He hoped she was coping and signed as always, SWALK – sealed with a loving kiss.
Peggy smiled softly as she put the airgraphs back in their envelopes and carried them into her bedroom where she placed them almost reverently in the shoe box. There was quite a stack of them now – proof, if she needed it, that Jim had been away far too long.
She took off her apron and headscarf and tidied her hair before pulling on her overcoat. Life went on, regardless of which side of the ocean they were, and if she stopped to think about it for too long, she’d just get depressed and be of no use to anyone.
She returned to the kitchen to find Cordelia occupied with her letter from Canada, and April briskly scrubbing the stone sink while Daisy played with her doll. ‘You won’t get the stains out of that,’ Peggy said ruefully. ‘Goodness knows I’ve been scrubbing it for years and no amount of bleach or elbow grease will shift it. Come on, leave that and fetch your things. We have a lot to get through this morning, and we could both do with making the most of this lovely day.’
