by Ellie Dean
Peggy felt the prick of happy tears, for her sister deserved to be well loved after all she’d been through with duplicitous Ted, and she had the feeling that John would cherish her until his last breath – and that they would have a long and very happy life together.
Much later that night when Peggy had finally fallen into bed ready for sleep, she sighed with pleasure at the feel of lovely clean sheets and pillowcases. Doris’s wedding had gone off without a hitch. The reception had been very grand even though it had started to rain this afternoon – and a ruckus had been avoided between Doreen and Pauline when Pauline complained of having one of her headaches and ordered poor Frank to drive her home. Doreen had resisted teasing Doris and managed to avoid the subject of the schoolmaster she was walking out with, which she’d known would be an irritant to her nosy elder sister, and cause unpleasantness between them.
Peggy snuggled down beneath the blanket, thinking of John and Doris who were already on their way to the Lake District, and realising yet again that she hadn’t had a proper talk with her sister about her finances. She nestled her head into the pillow and after blowing a kiss to Jim’s photograph, turned out the bedside light. She would have to leave it now until Doris came back from her honeymoon.
Part Two
* * *
10
A week had passed since Doris’s wedding, and Doreen would be leaving Cliffehaven on the noon train. Danuta was out on her district nursing rounds and Sarah was upstairs doing her packing, but the kitchen was far from quiet as the three girls chattered away at the breakfast table, Archie banged a spoon against the high chair, and Charlie teased Cordelia who wasn’t in the best of moods this Saturday morning, and had switched off her hearing aid.
Peggy rushed to retrieve the morning post, and amongst the letters for Sarah and Jane, she found a lovely postcard of Lake Windermere, and an airmail from Ruby which she would read once the house was quiet again and she could fully concentrate on it. She handed Doreen the postcard across the breakfast table.
‘It sounds as if Doris and John are having a lovely time now his back has improved,’ she said with a smile in her voice. ‘I’m so glad things are going well. She was terribly worried about him, you know.’
Doreen flicked over the card and read the neat handwritten message. ‘Let’s hope they carry on that way. Doris is still a terrible snob despite having mellowed because of John, and I dread to think what her plans are for poor Stanislaw.’ She grinned. ‘He’s a nice chap, isn’t he? And he’s clearly very smitten with Danuta.’
Peggy nodded and then sipped her tea. ‘It’s such a shame about his legs, though. His future prospects don’t look bright when it comes to finding work, and although he appears to have money, I doubt it will last very long the way he spends it.’
She eyed her sister over the rim of her teacup. ‘Talking of nice chaps. What’s this new fellow of yours like?’
Doreen chuckled. ‘I knew you couldn’t resist asking, Peg, and I’m amazed you’ve left it this long. But walls have ears,’ she added, shooting a glance at her girls who were just finishing their cereal. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
‘That means Mum doesn’t want to talk about Mr Kent,’ muttered Evelyn to her sister, who giggled. ‘Mr Kent has a beard,’ she informed Peggy with a grimace and a flick of her plaits. ‘Yuck.’
Peggy raised a brow and tried very hard not to laugh. ‘You don’t like beards then, Evelyn?’
The girl’s neat plaits swung as she shook her head. ‘But Mummy does. I saw her kissing him. Yuck and double yuck.’
Joyce tried unsuccessfully to smother her giggles.
Doreen went red and busied herself with Archie, who had most of his breakfast down his front. ‘Now you’ve finished you can get down from the table and go outside to play,’ she said, sounding flustered. ‘That’s not the sort of thing we talk about at breakfast.’
Evelyn gave a world-weary sigh and rolled her eyes at Charlie, who was grinning. ‘Don’t you just hate being treated like a kid? We never get to hear the really interesting stuff.’
‘It’s not really the sort of nonsense I’m interested in, Evie,’ he replied before draining his teacup and pushing back from the table. ‘Come on, I’ll take you all down to the beach for a bit so our mums can have a good gossip.’
Doreen and Peggy found all the necessary paraphernalia for a trip to the beach, and once Archie was strapped into Daisy’s pushchair, Charlie set off cheerfully with the three girls in tow.
Sure in the knowledge that Cordelia couldn’t hear a thing as she’d turned off her hearing aid and was engrossed in her newspaper, Peggy lit them both cigarettes. ‘So, your Mr Kent has a beard, does he?’ she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.
Doreen nodded. ‘Beard, moustache, long, floppy dark hair and eyes as brown as molasses,’ she replied. ‘Bill teaches art and drama, and has dreams of writing the definitive best-selling novel one day – though I’ve yet to see him start anything.’
‘Is it serious between you?’
‘Not really,’ she replied on a sigh. ‘He’s a nice man, great fun to be with, and suits my needs at the moment – but he’s not my Archie. No one could ever take his place, Peggy.’
Peggy reached for her hand. ‘It’s still fairly early days, Doreen. Of course you feel that way.’
‘It’s been nearly two years, Peg, and I thought I’d be over him now. But he’s still here in my heart, and I see him every day in little Archie.’
‘Does this new chap remind you of him? Is that why you’re involved?’
Doreen’s smile was wistful. ‘Not in the least – apart from the beard. Bill’s slender, softly spoken and has probably never done a day’s hard labour in his life. Whereas Archie was a great bear of a man with a working man’s hands, loud voice and huge personality. A bit like Stanislaw in a way.’ She blinked back the sudden tears and began to clear away the dirty dishes.
‘It’s neither here nor there, really,’ she continued, ‘because Bill applied for a teaching post in Scotland, and he might not even be there when I get back.’
‘Oh, Doreen, I am sorry.’
Doreen patted her shoulder. ‘Don’t be. I’m actually happier on my own with the children, and life is less complicated.’
Peggy collected the rest of the dishes and filled the sink with hot water. ‘I shall miss you, Doreen. It’s been so lovely having you home again.’
‘I’ve loved coming back, too, but my home’s in Swansea now. The children are settled, I’ve made some good friends and I enjoy my work.’ She started to dry the clean dishes. ‘You could always come to visit, Peg, once you’ve renovated this place and time is your own again.’
‘I’d love to, but Solly relies on me to keep his new factory going smoothly, and of course I’ll always have Cordelia to look after.’
She glanced over her shoulder at the elderly lady who was studiously going through the death notices in the local paper to see who she’d outlived. ‘Not that she’s any bother,’ she added quickly.
Charlie came back with the children an hour later, Ron and Harvey following closely behind them. Harvey greeted Doreen and Peggy and then rushed to Cordelia and put his cold nose up her skirt which made her jump.
‘Harvey!’ she exclaimed, pushing him away. ‘Naughty boy. You don’t do that.’
Harvey slunk off, but soon decided to hinder rather than help Ron bring down Doreen’s large suitcase. Dashing round his feet, he almost got trampled on and earned a sharp admonishment from Ron. ‘Gerroff, ye heathen beast,’ he rumbled, dumping the case in the hall. ‘To be sure, you’re a ruddy nuisance at times.’
‘It takes one to know one,’ said Cordelia, twiddling with her hearing aid. ‘That animal takes after its master, if you ask me.’
‘To be sure no one did,’ Ron muttered before going back into the hall to lift the large pram down the front steps to the pavement.
With the sand washed from the children’s hands and clothes, and a fresh nappy on Archie, Doreen w
as ready to leave. She embraced Charlie, thanking him for being so lovely with her children. ‘And for goodness’ sake, stop growing,’ she teased. ‘You’ll be taller than your father at this rate.’
She turned to Sarah who’d come downstairs to say goodbye. ‘Take care over there,’ she murmured. ‘I do hope things go well for you and your sister – and when you see Jim, which you’re bound to, tell him to write to me. I haven’t had a letter in ages.’
Then she hugged Cordelia. ‘Goodbye, Cordy,’ she said affectionately. ‘It’s been lovely seeing you again.’
Peggy hated saying goodbye to the people she loved, for she’d seemed to be doing it too many times over the past six years. She pulled on her jacket, strapped a protesting Daisy into her pushchair and followed Doreen and the children down the steps to where Ron was keeping an eye on the pram and the case.
With the older girls skipping along in front of them, and Harvey watering every lamppost he came across, they slowly walked up the High Street towards the station where Stan was on the platform waiting for them.
‘Here’s a little something to enjoy on your journey,’ he said, handing over a paper bag. ‘I made them this morning.’
Doreen smiled in delight at the sight of the eight lovely rock buns that glistened with brown sugar. ‘Thank you, Stan,’ she sighed, giving him a hug. ‘That was very generous of you. I hope things pan out all right for you and your niece, and that you have a wonderful retirement. I expect your allotment will benefit from it.’
The train pulled in, and Stan returned her hug then hurried down the platform with Ron to unload Archie and put the pram and suitcase in the guard’s van.
Ron returned with Archie in his arms, their smiles equally wide. ‘He’s a grand wee wain, so he is, Doreen,’ he enthused, giving the baby a smacking kiss on the cheek which made him gurgle in delight. ‘I’m thinking he’ll be Charlie’s size before you know it.’
‘Not for a while yet, I hope,’ laughed Doreen, taking charge of the boy and hugging Ron. ‘Try and behave yourself, Ron. And I’m keeping you to your promise to come and visit me. Rosie will love Swansea. There are a lot of shops.’
‘Ach, you women and your shopping,’ he replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. ‘To be sure, a man’s wallet is not his own once Rosie spies a shop window. We’ll be down once my Jim’s home and settled in, never you mind.’
Doreen and Peggy embraced as steam and smoke billowed around them. ‘Look after yourself, Peggy,’ Doreen murmured. ‘And don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’
‘Will you come home again?’
‘Perhaps next summer during the long holidays, but who knows where we’ll all be in a year’s time?’
She gave her another swift hug, kissed Daisy, patted the dog and climbed onto the train with her girls. Pulling down the carriage window, she leaned out. ‘Let me know how the work’s going on Beach View, Peggy,’ she called down. ‘And send me lots of photographs when it’s finished.’
Ron raised his eyebrows and looked at Peggy sharply. ‘What work?’
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ she said as the train began to draw away.
Doreen waved out of the window until the train had rounded the bend and slowly disappeared from view, leaving only a column of smoke in its trail.
Peggy turned away and slowly wheeled the pushchair back down the platform. She had no idea when she might see Doreen again, and as it was unlikely she would ever manage to get to Swansea for a visit, it would probably mean more years of separation.
‘What work, Peggy?’ Ron was walking alongside her as they left the station and headed back down the High Street.
‘Renovations,’ she replied, her mind still on her very dear sister. ‘The place needs a facelift, Ron, and seeing what you, Charlie and Frank have done for Anne, I’d like you to start on it as soon as Sarah and Jane leave for Singapore.’
‘Well now,’ he hedged. ‘I have other things to be doing and Frank is out on the trawlers a good deal of the time now he has Brendon working with him.’ He shoved his pipe in his mouth and dug his hand into his poacher’s coat pocket for his roll of tobacco. ‘Besides, Charlie starts back at grammar school next week.’
‘I’m willing to pay you,’ said Peggy, ‘so you can stop making excuses. And I shall need the name of the plasterer, plumber and electrician you used, so I can get estimates of how much it will all cost.’
He came to an abrupt halt, took the pipe from his mouth and stared at her. ‘What exactly are you planning to do with the place, Peggy?’
As she told him her ideas his eyes widened and when she’d fallen silent, he shook his head. ‘To be sure, wee girl, Jim will not be liking all that change.’
‘I’ve written to tell him what I want done, but as it’s me who has to live there with all its inconveniences, and me who has the money to pay for it all, there’s no reason for him to complain.’
‘Reason or not, he won’t like it.’
Peggy felt a dart of uncertainty and chose to ignore it. ‘Well, I mean to have it done one way or another, and if you and Frank won’t help, then I’ll find someone who will. There are plenty of men about who need the work.’
‘Aye, and most of them don’t know one end of a screwdriver from another,’ he rumbled, setting off again.
She almost had to run to keep up with him. ‘So, Ron, will you help? I’ll pay the going rate.’
He stopped again and regarded her from beneath his brows. ‘There’s no need for that. I’ll do it for the price of as many cups of tea as you can make if you stop nagging me. But I can’t speak for Frank.’
Peggy hugged his arm and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. ‘Thanks, Ron, I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’
‘Humph.’ He shrugged his shoulders and reddened. ‘Enough of that, Peggy. I’ve to be running the bar, so I do, and I’ll have Rosie nagging me if I’m too late.’
‘Could you start at the end of next week, then?’ she asked.
‘Aye, all right, But it won’t be an easy task, wee girl. I doubt it will all be done by Christmas.’
‘Oh, but I—’
He held up a grubby finger. ‘It’ll take as long as it takes, Peggy, and that’s an end to it.’
Peggy was smiling as she watched him stomp down the hill, his dog at his heels. After her Jim, Ron was her most favourite and beloved person in the world, and now her dreams were about to be realised, she felt the sadness of Doreen’s departure begin to lift. They would see each other again, she was sure of it – and when she next came home, Beach View would be a positive palace.
Returning home an hour later, Peggy found Cordelia sitting in the sunlit garden with a book, Sarah beside her in a deckchair doing some sewing. She unstrapped Daisy from the pushchair and once she was happily messing about in the sandpit with her doll, she rushed upstairs with her grocery shopping and quickly retrieved Ruby’s letter from her apron pocket.
With the kettle on the hob, she sat down at the kitchen table, lit a cigarette and carefully unfolded the thin blue paper, rather surprised by how neat Ruby’s writing was.
Lot 23, Jonquiere, Quebec, Canada
Dearest Peggy ,
I’m sorry it’s taken so long to write, but the journey here seemed to take for ever, and everything is so different, I’m finding it difficult to take it all in and find me feet. The crossing on the SS Lady Nelson was quite rough, and despite the pills the doctor give me, I were sick for the first two days which weren’t much fun for poor Mike, cos it were supposed to be our honeymoon .
When we arrived in Nova Scotia it were lovely and warm and sunny, and the scenery was like nothing I ever see before, so we stayed for a couple of days and Mike bought a car so we could do a bit of sight-seeing before we went on to Quebec and then his family home up in the mountains. Everything is so big and empty here, Peggy, even in the towns, and within minutes of landing, I realised that nearly everyone spoke French – which come as a nasty shock, I can tell you. I have enough problems with Englis
h, let alone trying to speak foreign!
But although they speak French or the local patois, as Mike calls it, it were really strange to see places called Liverpool, Truro, Yarmouth, Dartmouth and Glasgow. Mike explained it was because the first white settlers came from them places and wanted to be reminded of home, and I’m beginning to understand why. Tell Rita, there’s even a place called Sydney!
We drove up through New Brunswick which has a huge mountain range, a massive rocky coastline and nothing much else but lakes, rivers and trees – lots and lots of trees – which smell lovely, but make it ever so dark and gloomy when the sun’s low. Quebec City is ever so old, with a castle and everything, and the streets are all narrow and cobbled, but there’s lots of paper mills and pulping plants, as well as mining, so it’s quite a busy town with docks for the big container ships that come in. It reminds me a bit of Tilbury .
Mike’s parents’ place is about two hundred miles north of Quebec City, and another three miles outside a really small settlement which is part of Jonquiere. It doesn’t have a proper name, and probably hasn’t changed since the year dot. Mike reckons there are about thirty people living in and around it all the time, but the numbers are increased when the mill and logging workers come back in the autumn for the logging season. He says it’s easier to chop the timber in winter when the sap ain’t rising, and transporting it over snow is quicker than hauling it by horses and chains. When the thaw comes, the rivers run real fast, and they send all the logs down on them to the port – which is something I find hard to believe. I mean, who ever thought of such a thing?
Everything is made out of wood here – cos of the trees, I suppose – there’s enough of them. The main street is hard-packed earth, with one long veranda and walkway that runs past a bar and caff, a barber, a feed store and a general store that seems to sell nothing but old-fashioned dresses, work clothes, tools, canned food and dried stuff in huge sacks. I even seen men coming in on horses which they tie to the railings just like real cowboys! Oxford Street it ain’t and even Brick Lane Market is better stocked .
