by Ellie Dean
Ron held carefully onto Cordelia’s arm on one side, Bertie on the other as the gathering trooped down the hill to the Crown. Sarah hitched Daisy onto her hip, while April went off with Paula to man the station until Stan came to relieve her in an hour’s time. As they all arrived at the Crown, Doris suddenly looked unsure and held back on the doorstep.
‘It’s all right, love,’ said Gloria on a laugh. ‘We don’t bite. Anyways, the reception ain’t in the bar but in the function room, so yer won’t ’ave to rub shoulders with the common folk.’
Doris reddened, held her breath, and stepped over the threshold to hurry through the large bar and into the function room. ‘Oh,’ she said in surprise as she stood in the doorway and took in the white linen cloth on the long tables, the flowers, candles, smart china and gleaming silverware. ‘I didn’t expect …’
‘What did yer expect, Doris?’ asked Gloria with a gleam in her eye. ‘Paper plates, jellied eels and cheap bottled beer?’ She laughed at the other woman’s discomfort. ‘We do things proper ’ere,’ she said, putting an arm around Doris and steering her towards the bar laden with champagne, spirits and cordials. ‘Especially when it’s a family wedding. Now, what can I get you to drink?’
They were presented with a veritable feast, for there was roast beef with all the trimmings followed by trifle and a slice of the delicious iced fruit cake Gloria had somehow managed to persuade the local baker to supply. No one dared ask where it had all come from, but Peggy suspected that Gloria and Ron had used all their black-market contacts to make it happen. The champagne toasts were made; everyone applauded the speeches which were mercifully short and then got down to the serious business of drinking and having a dance to the three-piece band which proved to be surprisingly good.
The party went on until five and then the newly-weds disappeared upstairs to get changed for their journey to Walthamstow. There would be no honeymoon, for Andy had already started working at the fire station, but they planned a trip to Margate in August when he had a couple of days off.
Peggy had managed to resist drinking too much, but Cordelia was definitely tiddly and Doris was showing signs that she too had over-indulged, for she was laughing at Gloria’s off-colour jokes. Ron was studiously ignoring Rosie’s withering looks as he matched drink for drink with the firemen, and Harvey was snaffling the left-over trifle which Gloria had left in a bowl on the dresser.
Looking at her watch, Peggy clucked her tongue. ‘What’s keeping them up there? Surely they must know what time it is,’ she muttered.
Rita giggled. ‘I don’t expect they’ve given time much of a thought,’ she replied. ‘I know I wouldn’t if it was my wedding day.’
Peggy blushed and realised how silly she must have sounded. ‘Oh, I see what you mean.’ She took a sip of champagne, lit a cigarette and shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose it matters,’ she said to cover her embarrassment. ‘There’ll be another train in an hour.’
She watched Gloria stagger her way up the stairs and heard her yelling at the young couple to get their arses in gear and hurry up as everyone was waiting to see them off.
Ten minutes later they appeared rather bashfully with their suitcases and a large bag containing their wedding presents. Ivy was wearing one of Solly’s smart skirt suits in navy pinstripe, and Andy had changed out of his uniform into grey trousers and a navy sports jacket with a white shirt and plain tie.
Andy went to his mother and, after kissing and hugging her, called for silence. ‘We want to thank you all for making our day so special,’ he said. ‘But in particular, I’d like to thank John for getting me the job in Walthamstow, and keeping me calm when my wife’ – this was greeted with cheers and whistles – ‘when my wife was late.’
He grinned at the assembly. ‘It’s one of her most endearing ’abits, so I suppose I’ll have to get used to it.’ He hugged Ivy to his side. ‘We’d like you to stay and enjoy the party, and not come to the station to see us off, if that’s all right. We don’t want no fuss or tears, ’cos it will only set Ivy off, and I don’t want ’er crying on our wedding day.’
The gathering surrounded them to say their goodbyes, and Ivy eventually pushed through them to get to Peggy. ‘Thanks for all you done, Auntie Peggy. I ’ope you enjoyed the day as much as me, ’cos that’s what I wanted more than anything. You been so good to us all, and it were the only way I could think of to repay you.’
Peggy held her close, fighting back the tears, and kissed her cheek. ‘It’s been a wonderful day and you’re a beautiful bride. Don’t leave it too long before you come down to see us.’
‘I promised Rita I’d come for ’er wedding if she don’t leave it too long, so you ain’t got rid of me entirely just yet.’ Ivy hesitated and bit her lip. ‘I got something to tell you, Auntie Peggy. Promise me you won’t go off the deep end.’
Peggy smiled. ‘I already know, Ivy, darling,’ she murmured. ‘I heard you being sick again this morning.’ She hugged her once more. ‘Your secret’s safe with me,’ she whispered. ‘Just take care of yourself and that precious baby, that’s all I ask.’
‘Ow Gawd, I’m gunna miss yer,’ Ivy breathed, on the brink of tears, before pulling herself from Peggy’s arms and joining Andy who was waiting for her at the door.
Everyone trooped out to watch them go back up the hill, past the Town Hall where another wedding party was emerging in a hail of confetti, and then with one last wave they walked over the bridge and went out of sight.
Peggy stood on the pavement long after everyone else had gone back inside to carry on with the party. Another chick was on her way, and soon it would be Rita’s turn to leave – and then if the war with Japan ever came to an end, she would have to say goodbye to Sarah and Jane. Her shoulders slumped and her heart felt heavy. It was like losing her own children all over again, and in that moment she wished with all her heart that Anne would come home.
23
Somerset
It was early Sunday morning and Anne was roused from a heavy sleep by the sound of drawers being opened and shut with great vigour and little thought. She opened her eyes and winced at the shaft of light coming through the gap in the bedroom curtains. ‘Martin? What on earth are you doing?’ she asked thickly.
‘I’m packing,’ he replied tersely.
Anne sat up, her head pounding from the effects of the parsnip wine she’d consumed the previous evening. ‘Packing? Whatever for?’
‘I’m going back to Cliffehaven with Sally.’
‘But you can’t,’ she protested. ‘Sally will have enough on her plate with Harry and Ernie without …’ She bit her lip, realising what she’d almost said.
He regarded her sourly. ‘Without having to deal with me, you mean,’ he said flatly. ‘Look, Anne, I know you don’t think much of me, and I can’t blame you, but I want to go home – and I’m mature enough to make the journey without causing Sally any trouble.’ He began ripping things off coat hangers and stuffing them into a case.
Anne hauled herself out of bed, staggering a little as she went giddy, and then grabbed his arm. ‘Martin, please don’t do this. I know you want to go home – and we will – but at the end of the week, not today.’
‘I want to go today,’ he said stubbornly, shrugging off her restraining hand. ‘Besides, I’d have thought you’d be only too delighted to see the back of me.’
It was like a slap in the face. ‘Oh, Martin,’ she breathed. ‘Do you really think I’d wish that?’ She blinked away her tears, determined not to break down. ‘I’m sorry if that’s the impression you’ve got, but I’m worried sick about you – need you to talk to me – need some sort of acknowledgement from you that you still love me and the girls.’
He stopped stuffing clothes into the case and stood with his arms limp at his sides, his head bowed. ‘Of course I still love you,’ he said hoarsely. ‘It was only the thought of you and the girls which kept me going when …’ He heaved a great breath and finally looked at her. ‘But I can’t be the husband and
father I was – or the man you need. I can’t talk to you the way I can talk to Roger – and have no desire to.’
‘But I’m more than willing to listen,’ she replied, taking his hand and kissing the stumps of his frostbitten fingers. ‘Please, Martin, trust me enough to tell me something of what you’ve been through so I can help. I so desperately want to understand.’
He gently removed his hand from her grasp. ‘It’s not a matter of trust,’ he said sadly. ‘And if I stay here, things will only get worse between us. I’m sorry, Anne, but I’ve inflicted enough pain on you and the children and have lost my way. I need to go home.’
Anne saw his set expression and knew that no amount of arguing would change his mind, but she was filled with dread that this separation might be the beginning of the end for her marriage. ‘Then we’ll go together,’ she said. ‘We can catch a later train once I’ve tried to organise someone else to take my place at the polling station, and packed the children’s things. Of course I’ll have the devil’s own job of trying to persuade Charlie to come with us, and …’
Martin silenced her with a soft, brief kiss. ‘No, Anne. That’s too much to do in a couple of hours. It’s better you stay, fulfil your election duties and take your time packing up and saying your goodbyes. The children will be less fractious and Charlie might be more amenable to the idea of going home to Cliffehaven if you don’t force the issue all in a rush.’
‘But I don’t want you to go without me,’ she managed through her tears. ‘We promised on our wedding day that we would stick together through thick and thin.’
He drew her into his arms. ‘It’s not a case of what you or I want, Anne. It’s what we both need. There are moments, even in the strongest of marriages, when it helps to spend time apart – to give each other breathing space to work things out.’
He held her tenderly at arm’s length. ‘I have to do this, Anne, not only for my sake, but for you and the children.’
Anne realised then that he was right, for if he stayed nothing would change between them, and the state of mind he was in would only worsen. She nodded and turned away, the tears rolling down her face as she emptied the case and folded the clothes more neatly so she could close it. She could only pray he would see things in a clearer light once he was back in Cliffehaven. ‘Just promise me you’ll telephone when you get to Mum’s,’ she managed.
‘I promise,’ he replied, picking up the case and kitbag. Anne’s head was pounding and she felt nauseous as she grabbed her dressing gown and swiftly dug her feet into slippers before following him into the boot room. ‘Aren’t you going to say goodbye to Vi and the girls?’ she asked fretfully.
‘I did that earlier while you were sleeping off Vi’s parsnip wine,’ he replied, stepping out into the cobbled yard where Bob, Sally and the little boys were waiting in the Land Rover. ‘I must say, you were dead to the world when I got in.’
Anne thought that was a bit rich after his drunken performances these past weeks, but let the thought go. This was not the time to start an argument. She tamped down on the nausea and tried to ignore the thudding in her head as she followed him and watched him swing the kitbag and case in the back. She noted with surprise, and some hurt, that his drawn face seemed less careworn, his step a little more jaunty as he prepared to leave her. However, she reasoned, if this was a sign of how quickly he might heal in Cliffehaven, then he was right to go, and she shouldn’t see his departure as yet another rejection.
She went to him as he opened the back door. ‘Take care, my love,’ she murmured, kissing his cheek. ‘I’ll ring Mum and let her know you’re on the way.’
He nodded, climbed into the truck and slammed the door. Sally blew Anne a kiss and the boys bounced up and down in excitement. Anne saw that Sally looked as rough as she felt, and didn’t envy her the long journey with two lively boys for company. Bob engaged the gears and the truck rumbled over the cobbles towards the gate which Vi was holding open.
Anne ran to join Vi as Bob drove down the track, and they waved until the truck was out of sight. Vi closed the gate firmly and then squeezed Anne’s hand. ‘It’s not really saying goodbye,’ she said comfortingly, ‘because you’ll be seeing them all again in a few days’ time.’
‘I know, but it’s still hard to see him go, and I have no idea what the future holds for us,’ she replied, the bright sunlight hurting her eyes as an entire regiment of drummers marched in her head. ‘And it will be harder still to ring Mum, because then she’ll know that my plan for Martin’s recovery has backfired spectacularly, and I failed him.’
Vi shot her a knowing look, and tutted. ‘Now you’re just feeling sorry for yourself, and that won’t do at all,’ she said briskly. ‘I prescribe some hot, strong coffee and a couple of aspirin to deal with that hangover. And a dose of hard work to stop you moping. You and the girls can help me and Claus weed the south field so the cows can have fresh grazing. Moping about all day won’t butter any parsnips, and it’s time you all got some fresh air and exercise.’
Anne accompanied her back to the farmhouse, her heart heavy. Aunt Vi was nothing if not practical, and although weeding the field was one of the least enjoyable tasks on the farm, it would at least go some way to ease the guilt and stop her from worrying about how Martin was coping on that long journey. But she certainly wasn’t looking forward to the conversation she’d have to have with her mother.
Cliffehaven
Peggy had been woken by the sound of baby Joseph’s crying. Peering at the bedside clock, she groaned. It was barely six, which meant she’d had less than four hours of sleep. She checked that Daisy was still asleep in her small bed and then snuggled back down beneath the covers, hoping she could return to the pleasant dream she’d been having about her and Jim swimming in the tropical blue waters off Burma. But it wasn’t to be, so she reluctantly left her bed and headed upstairs to the bathroom to prepare for the day.
The wedding party had continued long after Ivy and Andy had left for London, and Peggy had stayed on to help Gloria and Beryl clean up before fetching a sleeping Daisy from one of the bedrooms and wheeling her home. Daisy might still be asleep, but it was doubtful that would last, for Joseph was now yelling fit to bust and would soon wake the entire house.
Peggy felt a dart of sympathy for Betty and Brendon as she closed the bathroom door on the racket. It couldn’t be easy for them living here and out of suitcases with a young baby, but as Pauline was still being a cow, they really had nowhere else to go. Brendon had been out every day this past week looking for somewhere to buy or rent, and had put their names down for one of the new houses which were being built on what had once been Chumley’s estate, but it wouldn’t be ready for another month.
Peggy decided on a strip wash this morning as running the bath would only further disturb Cordelia and the girls on this floor, and as she scrubbed herself with a soapy wet flannel, her thoughts turned to the disgraced Chumley. His conviction for fraud had earnt him a long prison sentence, and the estate had been seized by the taxman to pay off his massive debts. Lord Cliffe had bought some of the land, and a property developer had taken on the rest. The manor house and stable block were being turned into very smart flats, and a series of terraced, semi and detached houses would take up the rest of the estate grounds. Sarah, who worked in the council offices, had told her that the waiting list for these homes was growing by the day, but she’d managed to place Brendon’s application near the top. She was risking her job by doing so, but felt so sorry for him and Betty, and thought the risk was worth it if they could finally have a home of their own.
Peggy finished washing and brushed her teeth before getting dressed. She had few plans for today other than going up to Briar Cottage to see if she could help in any way. Poor Charlotte was still in pieces, Kitty was struggling to keep her focused on their business plans, and Roger was usually out, wandering Cliffe airfield or drinking in one of the pubs.
She was brushing her hair when she heard Brendon’s heavy tread on
the stairs, followed by Betty’s lighter, less confident one. The poor lambs weren’t getting much respite, she thought, unlocking the bathroom door. But then what new parents ever did?
She hurried downstairs to find them in the kitchen. Brendon was pacing the floor with Joseph draped over his shoulder as Betty warmed a bottle of formula. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked above Joseph’s wails.
‘I’m so sorry we woke you,’ said Brendon fretfully. ‘He’s not usually so demanding at this time of the morning.’
Peggy waved away his worries and reached for the squalling baby. ‘Come on, big boy, let’s go out and look at the chickens while Mummy warms your breakfast.’ She carefully carried him down the concrete steps and out into the garden. ‘There,’ she soothed. ‘Look.’ Squatting down so he could see the hens fussily parading in their pen, she held him close to the wire netting.
Joseph stopped crying and stared at the chickens, reaching towards them with his tiny chubby fingers. Enthralled by the sight of them, he forgot his hunger and gave a beaming smile.
‘It seems you have a way with babies,’ said Betty, coming to stand beside her.
‘I’ve had enough of them to know what to do,’ Peggy replied, handing the baby over.
Joseph opened his mouth to protest and it was swiftly plugged by the rubber teat. ‘I’m still learning,’ Betty said and giggled as her baby drank hungrily. ‘But Joseph is like all other males, and the answer to most of their woes is usually food.’
Peggy cocked her head at the sound of the telephone. ‘Oh lawks, I hope that’s not Pauline at this time of the morning,’ she muttered and hurried indoors.
‘Hello, Mum. I’m so sorry for ringing this early, I didn’t realise the time. I hope I didn’t wake you.’
‘Not much chance of that with a baby in the house,’ Peggy replied warily. She sat down on the hall chair, prepared for bad news. ‘What’s the matter, Anne?’
