With Hope and Love

by Ellie Dean

  ‘Don’t you dare get on your high horse about her job when you won’t give up your teaching, or step back from the political nonsense you’ve got involved in. If you’d taken just a minute to consider how you’d feel if the boot was on the other foot, and you’d been separated from your children for five years, you might have had some glimmering of what Mum’s been through.

  ‘Don’t forget, Anne,’ she carried on over her sister’s protest. ‘Charlie was only a few years older than your Rose Margaret is now when he left here – just a little boy – Mum’s baby.’ She took a shallow breath. ‘And Martin would be just as happy here as on the farm. All he really needs to recuperate is to have his family around him. And the same applies to Mum. God knows she’s waited long enough.’

  ‘I don’t appreciate your tone,’ snapped Anne.

  ‘I really don’t care,’ retorted Cissy. ‘It’s time you were taken down a peg or two when you’re being such a selfish, unthinking cow.’

  ‘It takes one to know one. How often have you been to visit Mum? It’s not as if you’re a million miles away, is it? But then I suspect you’ve been having such a high old time with all those pilots to flirt with and parties to go to, you haven’t given Mum a thought.’

  Cissy gripped the receiver, her temper now at boiling point. ‘I came when I was off duty – which wasn’t that often – and of course I thought about Mum,’ she hit back. ‘It wasn’t all beer and skittles at Cliffe, you know. Friends died, planes crashed and burned with the crews still trapped inside them. Fire crews had to wait until it was safe to retrieve the bodies as Jerry bombed and strafed us. And when those bodies were brought out, melded together, twisted and blackened, they no longer resembled human beings.’

  She took a sharp breath as the horrific images returned to haunt her. ‘How was it for you, Anne – down there in safe Somerset with your brothers and children, where the only threat came from a low-flying seagull with diarrhoea?’

  Cissy slammed down the receiver before Anne could respond, and stood there trembling with rage at her sister’s unfounded accusation and still tortured by those memories of death and destruction – of the fear and horrors she’d witnessed over the past five years.

  She hadn’t meant to lose her temper, but goody-two-shoes Anne had always got on her nerves. Just because she was the eldest, she seemed to think she was always right about everything. And being a teacher hadn’t made her any less opinionated. There was absolutely no excuse for trying to justify her selfishness towards Mum. It was almost as if Mum had been an afterthought, and she’d ticked off this conversation in her long list of things to do without any notion of how it would affect her. If Anne had been here, Cissy would have slapped her.

  Cissy lit a cigarette and paced the hall floor, aware that her mother was still in the bathroom and probably crying her eyes out. The thought of it made her heart ache, but she was in no fit state to be of any comfort, for she was still seething.

  ‘What on earth was that all about?’ asked Cordelia. ‘It certainly didn’t sound pleasant.’

  Cissy quickly stubbed out her cigarette and gently wrapped the much-loved woman in her arms. ‘Oh, Grandma Cordy,’ she sighed. ‘I’d forgotten just how much Anne winds me up.’

  ‘She always did,’ Cordelia replied, returning her hug. ‘Rather like your Aunt Doris used to wind up poor Peggy. It was the same with me and my sister before she went doolally. It’s the sibling rivalry, you see. We younger ones always feel we need to prove something – but usually come off worse.’

  Cordelia patted Cissy’s cheek and sat down on the hall chair. ‘Where’s your mother?’

  ‘Anne’s upset her dreadfully, and she shut herself in the bathroom. I must go to her.’

  Cordelia grabbed her hand. ‘Peggy won’t thank you for seeing her in distress, Cissy. Let her get whatever it is out of her system and give her time to put that brave face back on. It’s helped her through six years of war, although none of us will ever admit to knowing that.’

  ‘I didn’t realise,’ murmured Cissy.

  ‘You were never meant to.’ She kept hold of Cissy’s hand. ‘Your mother has been determined to keep her darkest thoughts and fears from everyone because she didn’t want to add to the burden when we were already struggling with the horrors of war. And by the sound of that conversation you’ve just had, it seems she was right to do so.’

  ‘She could have talked to me, Grandma Cordy. It might have been a release for both of us if we could have shared our fears.’

  ‘It’s not your mother’s way,’ Cordelia said softly. ‘Peggy is a strong woman who has her own method of dealing with things.’ She glanced up the stairs at the sound of footsteps in the bathroom. ‘Yet even the strongest of us can be brought to breaking point, Cissy, and it’s only their inner core of steel that will give them the strength to fight on – and your mother has proved time and again that she will not be beaten.’

  Cordelia struggled to stand. ‘Come on, Cissy. Everyone’s left for work and Rita’s busy upstairs, with Daisy helping to tidy that tip of a room she and Ivy share. We can have the kitchen to ourselves for a while and you can tell me what that conversation was all about.’

  Cissy put the kettle on whilst Cordelia closed the door into the hall so Peggy could slip downstairs to her bedroom without being seen. Once the tea was made, Cissy sat down opposite Cordelia and told her the whole unedifying story.

  Cordelia listened with increasing sadness. ‘Poor, poor Peggy,’ she murmured, dabbing away her tears. ‘How cruel life can be. The disappointment must be killing her.’

  Neither of them heard the door open so didn’t realise Peggy was standing there. ‘Hitler didn’t manage to finish me off, and neither will a bit of disappointment,’ she said, coming into the kitchen, her hair and make-up immaculate and looking very businesslike in a new navy pinstripe costume. ‘They’ll come home eventually. I’ll just have to be patient, that’s all.’

  She looked around the room. ‘Where’s Daisy? I have to get to work.’

  Cissy wanted to embrace her but knew instinctively that any sign of affection at that moment would break Peggy’s brittle veneer. ‘I’ll go and get her. She’s helping Rita with her room.’

  ‘Lord help us,’ sighed Peggy. ‘She could get lost in the mess and never be found again.’

  As Cissy hurried upstairs, Cordelia regarded Peggy over her glasses. ‘Peggy Reilly, you’re a marvel and an example to us all.’

  ‘No, I’m not, Cordy,’ she said, firmly meeting Cordelia’s gaze. ‘I’m just an ordinary woman who has to accept that her children are grown and making new lives for themselves.’ There was a tremor in her voice which she brought swiftly under control. ‘They’ll come home when they’re ready, and even if it’s only for a short while, I shall make the most of them while I can, and not make them feel guilty – but free to be the people they were meant to be, and go their own way. After all, Cordy, that’s why we’ve just fought a war, isn’t it? For freedom.’

  4

  Peggy was barely aware of anything as she wheeled the pushchair along Camden Road which was still bedecked with flags and bunting. The gaiety of it all left her numb, for her world had become colourless and without joy, the aching hollow inside her dulling her senses to the point where she could no longer even cry.

  However, despite the heavy burden of loss she was carrying, she’d meant what she’d said to Cordelia, and was determined to fulfil her responsibilities to her best ability. Anne and the boys might not need her as they once had, but Daisy and Cissy did, as well as Cordelia and her girls. The ending of the war would see great changes at Beach View, and there would be many challenges ahead – not only for herself, but for her chicks. She needed to stay strong, to be there for them when things went awry – which in some cases, she feared they might – and to continue to be the mother hen they’d all come to rely upon.

  ‘You’re looking very smart this morning, Peggy,’ said Nanny Pringle, opening the door to the factory’s crè
che. ‘New costume?’

  Peggy dredged up a smile and unstrapped an impatient Daisy from the pushchair. ‘It’s from the first batch of Solly’s latest venture,’ she replied. ‘He saw a gap in the market and decided that as the men are all getting demob suits, the women should have the chance of something smart and cheap and off-the-peg. Rachel designed it, and we’ve already had some healthy orders from some of the big department stores.’

  ‘Goodness me,’ replied the plump, motherly woman, eyeing the pencil-slim skirt and close-fitting jacket with its peplum draping from the waist. ‘I don’t think I’m the right shape for such a thing,’ she said with a smile. ‘But I can see it will catch on with you young, slim things.’

  If Peggy hadn’t been feeling so low she might have been rather flattered to be called young, but as it was she could only manage a slight twitch of her lips. She grabbed Daisy and managed to kiss her before the child wriggled away and dashed into the crèche to be with her little friends.

  ‘Don’t take it personally,’ soothed Nanny Pringle, who must have caught the wistfulness in Peggy’s eyes. ‘At this age they’re always in a hurry to be off and doing.’

  Peggy nodded, vowing that she’d keep her feelings to herself from now on. Nanny Pringle was too sharp-eyed. She stored the pushchair in the bicycle shelter and headed for the factory. Clocking in, she took a deep breath, determined to function as usual, keep her mind on her work and just get through the day.

  Climbing the stairs to the offices that overlooked the factory floor, she saw her friend Madge sitting at her desk, lost in thought. ‘Penny for them?’

  Madge grimaced. ‘Not worth a farthing, Peg. I was merely trying to work out what to cook for tea.’

  ‘It’s a terrible bind, isn’t it? Especially when there are so few choices to be had – and what there is costs an arm and a leg. We can only hope that now the war’s over, the rationing will be eased and we can all eat properly again.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ sighed Madge, rolling a sheet of paper into her typewriter. ‘Solly’s been in since six as the place has been shut for two days,’ she said, shooting Peggy a warning look. ‘Being idle for so long has made him as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks, and he’s itching to get production going again. Which is more than can be said for that lot down there,’ she added, tilting her head towards the window overlooking the lines of machines.

  Peggy saw several empty chairs, and noted the desultory way in which those who had turned up were going about their work. ‘How many absentees?’ she asked.

  ‘Twenty. And I suspect we’ll have more on the night shift.’

  ‘Let’s hope it’s only temporary,’ said Peggy, ‘or we’ll have to start recruiting again.’

  ‘That shouldn’t pose a problem,’ Madge replied. ‘Some of the other factories are laying people off, and I already have a list of men and women who’ve applied for their old jobs now they’ve left the services – and who, by rights, should have priority.’

  ‘I’ll make a note of the absentees, and if they don’t show tomorrow, then they’ll have to be deemed as no longer employed. We can’t afford to be let down with so much work on.’

  Peggy left Madge to her typing and went into Solly’s inner sanctum to find him pacing back and forth, furiously puffing on a large cigar as he stopped to glare down at the factory floor. He was a big man and seemed to fill the room which was already thick with the haze of cigar smoke.

  ‘Good morning, Solly,’ she said, opening the other window to get some fresh air in to clear the fug and make it easier to breathe. ‘Is there anything in particular you want me to focus on today?’

  ‘You can get that lot down there to earn their keep,’ he rumbled, turning from the large window with a scowl. He threw himself into his leather chair, making it groan beneath his considerable weight. ‘Two days of production have already been lost, and at the rate they’re working, we won’t finish the demob suit contract in time.’

  ‘We’re still on target,’ she soothed. Seeing that he wasn’t at all in a good mood, she said nothing about the absent workers, although she was certain he’d spotted the gaps. ‘Why don’t I ask Madge to make you a pot of your special coffee? That always puts you in a good frame of mind.’

  He blew out his cheeks. ‘My Rachel has been conspiring with that mashugana of a doctor again. They’ve decided coffee and cigars aren’t good for me. It seems they’ve come to the conclusion that my blood pressure’s a bit high, so they’ve put me on a blasted diet as well.’ He mashed the cigar out with some vigour.

  Peggy knew better than to say anything, because in this mood the slightest thing would set him off on one of his rages – which certainly wouldn’t help his blood pressure.

  Solly threw up his hands, his brown eyes beseeching as he looked at her. ‘Oy vay, Peggy. What’s the world coming to when a man can’t enjoy a few pleasures? Have I not earnt them? Do I not work hard enough to give that woman everything she could possibly want? Do I not pay that man a fortune to keep his mouth shut when Rachel interrogates him about my health?’

  It was a tricky situation for Peggy who knew all about his health problems from Rachel. She would have to tread carefully – but going by the rising colour in his face and the tremor in his hand as he defiantly lit another cigar, he really was risking a heart attack.

  ‘It’s tough, I know,’ she said. ‘But Rachel’s worried about you. And to be honest, Solly, so am I.’

  ‘Ach, you women worry too much,’ he said dismissively. ‘I’m perfectly healthy, and a fine figure of a man for my age. I don’t need either of you fussing over me.’

  ‘It’s only because Rachel loves you, Solly, and when the factory’s running smoothly again and you’re in a better frame of mind, you’ll realise that.’

  He shrugged. ‘Maybe,’ he replied, his attention now focused on what Peggy was wearing. ‘That costume looks good on you, Peggy. How does it feel?’

  ‘It’s a good weight for spring and comfortable to wear,’ she replied, ‘but I think you need to line the skirt as well as the jacket. The cheap cloth is inclined to lose shape around the seat.’

  ‘A lining will make it more expensive,’ he grumbled. ‘You should wear a petticoat.’

  ‘I am, and it still sags when I sit down. The weave just isn’t firm enough. Besides, lining the skirt will only add about a farthing to the cost, and you can recoup that easily on the price and still keep it affordable. A lined skirt will give it some class, making the whole costume more desirable.’

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ he mumbled around the cigar. He glanced down at the workforce. ‘You’d better get down there, Peggy. The lack of proper care and attention they’re giving to their work this morning is hurting my wallet.’

  Peggy nodded and left him simmering over the account books strewn across his desk. If only Solly took as much care with his health as he did his bank balance, Rachel wouldn’t need to worry so much.

  The Memorial Hospital was set in beautiful parkland five miles east of Cliffehaven and had once been a grand mansion owned by a wealthy family. The patriarch and his only son had been killed in the trenches of World War I, and when the bereft dowager had passed away, she’d gifted the entire estate to the military in memory of her husband and son, to be used as a hospital for injured servicemen.

  Rita arrived on her motorbike at mid-morning to find the hospital extraordinarily busy, and as there was no sign of Peter, she decided he must have gone outside to avoid the chaos.

  She found him sitting on a bench on the terrace that ran the width of the building and overlooked the garden. He was bundled up in his air force overcoat, his head still heavily bandaged, gloomily watching a couple of blinded men being led around the perimeter of the sweeping lawn by a nurse. He didn’t notice her arrival, so she plonked down next to him and kissed his cheek. ‘You look as if you’ve lost a quid and found a penny,’ she teased.

  His face lit up on seeing her and he returned her kiss. ‘I’m just keeping out of the way of
all the bustle, and thanking God I didn’t end up like those two poor blokes. Strewth, Rita, it’s so good to see you.’

  Rita hugged his arm and rested her head on his shoulder, as thankful as he that apart from the crack on the head and a badly broken leg which had taken an age to heal, he’d been extremely lucky. ‘What on earth is going on today, Pete? Why all the hubbub?’

  ‘We’ve had an influx of patients from Dover,’ he replied. ‘According to Matron, they arrived there late last night from France on hospital ships, and because there are so many of them they’ve had to be transferred to other hospitals all along the coast.’

  ‘Does that mean our men are coming home from Europe?’ she asked hopefully, thinking of her father.

  ‘Only the badly injured ones, love,’ he replied, taking her hand. ‘Your dad will be home very soon, darlin’, and I just hope I’ll still be here to meet him. He sounds a bonzer bloke.’

  ‘What do you mean about not being here?’ she gasped in alarm. ‘They’re not sending you back to Australia, are they?’

  Peter grinned. ‘Not until the Japs have been defeated, love,’ he drawled. ‘But I reckon it won’t be long before I’m turfed out of here to make way for someone worse off.’

  ‘But where would you go?’

  ‘I’m hoping I’ll be sent to Cliffe. A mate of mine’s just been discharged from there, and he reckons it’s better than a posh hotel. But nothing’s certain, darlin’. I could be sent miles away to a specialist hospital because they’re still worried about my head. But I haven’t had a funny turn for a whole two weeks, or been getting as many headaches, so they might just discharge me to some billet somewhere until the Japs surrender and I can catch a ship home.’

  ‘Then let’s hope you get sent to Cliffe so I can keep you close for a while longer,’ Rita said. She looked down at their entwined fingers and found the courage to voice her fears which had been growing ever since peace looked likely.