Shelter From the Storm

by Ellie Dean

  The blackouts were drawn against the twilight, most of the guests had gone home and another pot of tea had been made by the time Fran came through the door. Everyone fell silent, waiting breathlessly to hear her news.

  ‘He’s had a heart attack,’ she told them. ‘But the prognosis is good and the doctor doesn’t see any reason why he shouldn’t make a full recovery – as long as he takes better care of himself. Ethel and Ruby are with him now, but he’s heavily sedated, so it’s best to leave visiting until tomorrow.’

  ‘But he will pull through, won’t he?’ asked an anxious April.

  Fran nodded. ‘He’ll have to stay in for quite a while so he can rest and recoup, but there’s no reason to think the worst. The doctor will put him on a really strict diet, though, and weigh him regularly. It was the added weight that caused this, April, no matter what Ethel said, so please don’t take it to heart.’

  ‘Do you think she’ll let me visit him?’

  ‘Stan’s already asked to see you, so I don’t think Ethel has much choice in the matter.’ Fran patted April’s hand in sympathy. ‘None of this was your fault, April,’ she soothed, ‘and I’m sure that once Stan’s back to his old self Ethel will come round.’

  April very much doubted that, but now was not the time to voice her opinion on Ethel’s outburst. Regardless of the fact she’d been less than friendly over these past two weeks, April felt terribly sorry for her. It was an awful thing to happen at the best of times, but for it to ruin their wedding was a terrible blow.

  And yet it was Stan she truly worried about, and the memory of him lying helplessly on the floor like that made her want to weep. She’d come to love and admire him so much and he’d been happy, full of the joys of life and looking forward to a sunny future with his new wife. Now she could only pray that he would indeed recover.

  ‘Will she be going back to the cottage tonight as they’d planned?’ asked Peggy.

  Fran shook her head. ‘She’ll stay with Ruby until he’s safely on the mend.’

  ‘That’s probably for the best,’ murmured Peggy. ‘Oh dear, poor Ethel. We must all rally round and make sure she’s coping.’

  There was a general murmur of agreement before Alf, Chalky and Fred said their goodbyes and escorted their wives home. The residents of Beach View sat in silence round the table by the inglenook, each with their own thoughts of Stan, unwilling to leave this snug, familiar place where so many memories had been made.

  ‘I should probably telephone my mother,’ April murmured to no one in particular.

  ‘There’s not much she can do to help Stan from Tunbridge Wells,’ said Peggy.

  ‘I know. But I think she ought to be told. Just in case . . .’

  The words hung between them and Peggy’s eyes were dark with sorrow as the awful possibility overshadowed them. She finally blinked and made a concerted effort to remain clear-headed and practical. ‘Go and do it now before everyone gets home,’ she advised. ‘It’ll be quieter.’

  April gathered up her things, said goodbye to the others and headed for Beach View. Mildred probably didn’t give a hoot about her brother’s health, and April didn’t really relish the thought of having to talk to her at all – but she couldn’t in all conscience keep such news from her.

  Queenie came to greet her at the back door demanding to be fed, and once April had filled her saucer and replenished her water bowl, she shrugged off her coat and went into the hall.

  Glancing at her watch, she realised Bertha would still be on the switchboard, and would no doubt be listening in. But she didn’t want to leave the call until tomorrow – doctors didn’t always get things right and she’d never forgive herself if anything happened to Stan before Mildred had been warned. Her hand trembled at the thought as she lifted the receiver, and her voice was unsteady when she gave Bertha her mother’s number and waited for her to answer.

  ‘Mildred Wilton.’

  April gripped the receiver. ‘Mother, it’s me.’

  ‘I’m just about to go out to dinner,’ Mildred said impatiently. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It was Uncle Stan’s wedding today,’ April said through gritted teeth, ‘and unfortunately he’s been taken ill.’

  ‘Well that’s a shame, I’m sure. But what do you expect me to do about it?’

  ‘I don’t expect you to do anything,’ April replied shortly. ‘I just thought you should know that Stan’s had a heart attack and is in hospital.’

  ‘Heart attack?’ Mildred’s tone sharpened. ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘The doctor’s hopeful he’ll recover. But he will be in hospital for a while yet.’

  ‘He never did look after himself properly,’ said Mildred crossly. ‘I suppose he’s still fat?’

  April took a deep breath and tamped down on the rush of anger. ‘I just thought you should know what’s happened,’ she said. ‘I’m sure he’d appreciate a visit if you could find the time.’

  ‘There’s no need to take that tone with me,’ snapped Mildred. ‘You know how difficult it is to get anywhere these days – and as you’re already down there, it would be very little hardship for you to keep me informed of his progress.’

  ‘I’ll ring when I have any more news,’ said April and disconnected the call before she said something she might regret. How any two siblings could be such opposites confounded her.

  Feeling restless and utterly useless, she fetched her coat and went up to her bedroom. Stripping off the borrowed clothes and placing them back in their bag, she pulled on a shirt, dungarees and a sweater. Lacing up her shoes, she then carried the hat back to Cordelia’s bedroom, the bag to Sarah’s, and the fake pearls to Ivy’s. Carrying the dress and coat down to Peggy’s room, she hung them up in the wardrobe.

  Wandering into the kitchen, she put the kettle on, realised she didn’t want another cup of tea, and took it off the hob again. There was something niggling at her, but she couldn’t identify it, and that made her even more restless. The upset over Stan and the deep hurt inflicted by Ethel’s attack was bad enough, and although the only thing she wanted to do was go to the hospital, she knew there’d be no point if he was heavily sedated.

  ‘I feel so damn useless,’ she said to the uncaring cat. ‘Surely there must be something I could do?’

  She glanced up at the clock, wondering when the others would return from the Anchor, then began to tidy up the chaos in the kitchen. As the time ticked away and there was still no sign of anyone, she decided to go for a walk. She simply couldn’t hang about here any longer worrying about Stan, and perhaps a bit of fresh air and exercise might clear her head and help her to sleep.

  The bombers were taking off from Cliffe, roaring across the Channel with their escorts of night fighters, the sound of them reverberating in the very ground beneath her as they virtually skimmed the water to evade the enemy’s radar. The moon was full, hovering above the horizon to the east and casting a silver sheen over the glassy surface of the calm sea.

  April stood on the promenade and watched until the last plane disappeared before shrugging up the collar of her old raincoat and striding out. She had no idea of where she was going, but the simple act of walking in this lovely still night was enough to soothe her anxieties and help her to think.

  It was as she’d almost reached the kiosk and looked up the High Street that she realised what it was that had been niggling ever since she’d telephoned her mother, and she began to walk with fresh purpose up the hill towards the station.

  The platform was deserted and all was dark and still as she walked up the cinder path to the cottage and rapped on the door.

  An elderly man peered round the blackout curtains and hurriedly turned off the light before opening the door just a crack. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m the stationmaster’s niece, and I need to have a word with you.’

  He grimaced, shoved his glasses up the bridge of his nose and then grudgingly opened the door wider. ‘You’d better come in then.’

  April stepped
inside, and as he shut the door and switched the light back on, she came straight to the point. ‘I’m afraid I have a bit of bad news, Mr . . .’

  ‘Eric Flint,’ he said gruffly, his eyes magnified by his bottle-thick glasses. ‘Stan’s had a heart attack, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but how did you know?’ she stammered.

  ‘He didn’t look right this morning,’ he muttered. ‘A man that size is asking for trouble, if you want my opinion.’

  April didn’t, but let it go. ‘He’s in hospital,’ she said evenly, ‘so of course he won’t be able to work for a while. I was wondering if you could stay on for a few days?’

  He sucked his false teeth. ‘Well, it’s not very convenient. The wife and I were planning to go away next week.’

  ‘Would the railway send someone else, do you think?’

  ‘It would be difficult. We’re short on manpower these days, what with the war on.’

  April felt he wasn’t being at all helpful but she tried not to let her exasperation show. ‘But Mr Flint – Eric,’ she coaxed, ‘if you could stay on for just a few more days, perhaps you could teach someone to take over until Stan’s better.’

  His lips turned down and his eyes glinted behind his glasses as he thought about this. ‘Looking after a station isn’t as easy as you might think,’ he said finally. ‘The railway company doesn’t allow just anybody to run their stations willy-nilly. I can’t do anything without permission from my superiors.’

  April felt a flicker of hope. ‘But you would consider staying on to train someone up if they did give permission?’

  ‘That depends,’ he said thoughtfully.

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On what the wife says and whether or not the railway will pay me extra to train someone. It’s a big responsibility.’

  ‘Then let’s find out what the company says about it,’ said April, her gaze flitting to the telephone on the wall.

  ‘There won’t be no one in the office at this time of night,’ he said grumpily.

  ‘Then will you stay here and telephone them in the morning?’ She pasted on what she hoped was a winning smile. ‘There will be no one with your skills to deal with the early morning trains, and I’m sure the company will be most relieved to discover that Cliffehaven station is in such capable hands.’

  She could see from his expression that he wasn’t sure whether he was being flattered, or just buttered up, and she waited nervously for his reply.

  ‘The wife won’t like it,’ he grumbled. ‘I was supposed to go home after the last train.’ He glanced round the cosy room and jingled the coins in his trouser pockets as he considered his options. ‘Still, I could ring her, I suppose,’ he said after a long silence. ‘There is a war on, and the trains do have to be kept rolling, even in backwaters like this.’

  ‘That would be marvellous if you could. And I’m sure your wife would understand that in these times a man’s duty must come first.’

  ‘I know my duty,’ he said crossly. ‘There’s no need for that sort of talk.’

  April reddened. ‘Sorry, it’s just that it’s so important things are kept running smoothly while Stan’s recuperating.’

  He eyed her keenly. ‘And who did you have in mind as a replacement?’

  April realised she hadn’t really thought this through, but as Eric seemed to be wavering she needed to press her advantage. ‘There are several candidates,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m sure Stan’s wife would do an admirable job, as would her daughter Ruby. There’s Ron who can turn his hand to most things, and if all else fails, there’s always me . . .’ She tailed off.

  He eyed her up and down and chuckled. ‘Well, you’re a game little thing, I’ll say that for you – and you’ve got the cheek of Old Nick besides – but the company is very wary of employing women. Let alone ones in your condition.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous,’ she gasped. ‘Women are doing all sorts of jobs now the men are away fighting. I’m as capable as anyone to do the job, and so are Ruby and Ethel.’

  He shook his head. ‘The company won’t wear it,’ he said stubbornly. ‘If I’m to train anyone, it’ll have to be your friend Ron.’

  The voice from the doorway startled them both. ‘And what exactly am I to be trained for?’ asked Ron. He slammed the door and folded his arms as Harvey sniffed the cat and then collapsed with a grunt in front of the fire.

  They both started talking at once and after a few seconds Ron held up his hand. ‘I get the gist,’ he rumbled, ‘and to be sure the wee girl must have been reading me mind, for it’s been bothering me about Stan’s security here, which is why I came up.’

  ‘I realise it’s his home as well as his job,’ blustered Eric, ‘but if he’s ill for too long, the company will have no other choice but to retire him.’

  ‘Unless you teach me or one of the girls to do the job,’ said Ron. ‘I’ll not be letting Stan lose everything after all the years he’s served that company.’

  The little man peered at both of them through his thick glasses and gave in. ‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll stay tonight and ring the office in the morning. If they agree I’ll teach you, but I doubt they’ll let a woman anywhere near the signal box.’

  ‘Ethel will be too tied up with caring for Stan and holding her job at the factory – as will her daughter Ruby. But April’s at a loose end for a few months, and as she used to service and repair Royal Navy gun boats, I think she’d be eminently qualified to pull a few levers, blow whistles and wave flags, don’t you?’

  Mr Flint looked at April with new respect. ‘It’s a bit more complicated than that,’ he muttered, ‘but I’ll speak to my superior in the morning and see what he has to say.’

  ‘Aye, that would be grand, so it would.’ Ron gave him a beaming smile and shook his hand. ‘We’ll both be here for the six o’clock train and our first lesson. Might as well start as we mean to go on.’ With that he clicked his fingers to summon Harvey, turned off the light and opened the door.

  April shot the little man a smile of gratitude and followed Ron out into the night. ‘Thank goodness we both had the same idea,’ she said as they began to make their way back home. ‘I could never have persuaded him on my own.’

  ‘You’re a naughty wee girl to hire out me services without asking me first,’ he said on a chuckle. ‘It’s a good thing I was already planning to offer anyway – and that’s a first, let me tell you. I’ve spent my life avoiding volunteering for anything.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that, but I got the idea and didn’t really think it through,’ she admitted. ‘Stan loves his job and that cottage; it just would have been too cruel for him to lose them after what happened today.’

  ‘Aye, well you’ve talked yourself into a new career, young April, so I hope you’ll not have regrets about it.’ He chuckled again and paused to light his pipe. ‘I never thought I’d be playing with trains at my age, but life throws up many a surprise along the way, doesn’t it?’

  ‘It certainly does. I just hope Ethel doesn’t chuck a spanner in the works by refusing to let me set a foot over the threshold.’

  ‘You leave Ethel to me, April. I know how to handle women like her.’

  ‘I wish you the best of luck with that,’ she replied drily.

  Ron gave her an awkward hug before linking arms with her and continuing their journey home. ‘She’ll be putty in my hands,’ he said. ‘You just wait and see.’

  Ron and April told the rest of the astonished household about their plan to run the station for Stan until he was well enough to go back to work, and although Peggy was worried that it would all be too much for April, she didn’t have any other sensible ideas as an alternative, so had to accept her decision.

  Ron went to bed that night feeling rather excited about this new venture. He’d longed for a train set as a boy but his family was too poor to get him one, and so when his grandsons came along he’d rushed out to buy a set and had spent many a happy hour playing with it. Now he was going to be
in charge of real locomotives, carriages, goods trains and all manner of things, and the thought thrilled him.

  He set his alarm clock and switched off the light, the animals curled on either side of him like furry bolsters. As he lay in the darkness his thoughts went over all that had happened today, and although he was really looking forward to tomorrow, the excitement was tinged with sadness, for he’d have given anything for his best friend to be hale and hearty and in his rightful place on that platform.

  He turned over and struggled to get enough blanket from beneath the animals to cover his shoulders. April had surprised him by showing such initiative, and she’d certainly earned his respect today, not only for bearing the brunt of Ethel’s venom, but for caring enough about Stan to do something practical that would really help him. It would be interesting to see how she got on tomorrow – and how Ethel would react.

  27

  April had felt much calmer once she’d actually achieved something important for Stan, and consequently had slept surprisingly well. She woke just before her alarm went off and quickly dressed in the dungarees, shirt and sweater before quietly using the bathroom. The rest of the household were asleep, and it was still dark outside, so she tiptoed down to the kitchen where she discovered Ron was already tucking into hot porridge, tea and toast.

  ‘I’m glad to see you’re an early riser,’ he said.

  ‘I got used to it in the WRNS.’ She helped herself to the porridge and returned the pot to the warming oven. As she ate, she glanced across at the sturdy old man she’d once been so wary of and couldn’t help but smile. He’d clearly got dressed in the dark, and had thrown on whatever he could find. His shirt was creased and stained, his baggy corduroy trousers were held up with garden twine, the sweater had more holes in it than a colander and he was wearing odd socks.