Homecoming

by Ellie Dean

  ‘Nothing, so you can put that purse away,’ she replied, steering Peggy towards the door.

  Peggy dug her heels in. ‘I’m not leaving without paying, Sally. You’ve put a lot of work into that outfit, and I wouldn’t feel right wearing it if I haven’t paid the proper price for it.’

  ‘You’ll have to go to the wedding in your old clothes then,’ she replied on a giggle. ‘Cos I ain’t taking a penny from you after all you done for me and Ernie.’

  Peggy realised the girl wouldn’t budge, so deliberately ignored her jacket and went out into the hall as if she was about to leave. ‘Oh dear, I don’t know where my head is today. I seem to have left my jacket in your sewing room.’

  As Sally turned back to fetch it, Peggy slipped some money into the pocket of the girl’s jacket which was hanging from a hook in the hall, and dropped her purse into her handbag.

  Sally returned with her jacket. ‘Oh, thank you. dear. I’d forget my head if it wasn’t screwed on today. You see, I got a telegram from Jim this morning to say he was finally on his way home.’

  ‘Oh, Auntie Peggy, that’s brilliant news,’ Sally exclaimed, giving her a hug and kiss.

  ‘Yes, it is,’ she agreed, returning the affectionate embrace. ‘The Reilly family have got a lot to look forward to what with the wedding and Jim coming home.’

  She left the house just as Ernie and Harry rushed up the beach, no doubt in search of something to eat. Ernie was a strapping lad of thirteen now who no longer needed the callipers, and young Harry was growing like a weed too, she noticed, slipping them each a threepenny bit before heading home.

  Walking up the hill she began to wonder if she’d put enough money in Sally’s pocket. And yet it was more than Solly’s machinists would have earned for the hours taken to make that lovely outfit – and this did ease her conscience a little. With a new baby on the way, they would need all the money they could get if they were about to move up to the Chumley estate.

  Returning to Beach View, Peggy found a note from Cordelia who’d left with Bertie to have lunch at the golf club. Realising she had the rest of the day to herself, she made a quick cup of tea and then headed into town to buy new underwear, and then go up to see Stan and April at the stationmaster’s house.

  It had come as a terrible shock to everyone in Cliffehaven when it was announced that the station was to close, for being a seaside town the local businesses relied heavily on the trains to bring in the tourists.

  Rosie, who was on the council now, knew that if they lost this vital link the town would die, and she had immediately started up a fierce campaign to stop the closure, by gathering hundreds of signatures, talking to the press and generally making herself a thorough nuisance to the railway company. When it seemed she was getting nowhere, she went with the mayor and half the town council to both Downing Street and the railway company headquarters to present the petition and plead their case.

  She’d been partially successful in that the trains would still come to Cliffehaven, but the station would no longer be manned. Poor Stan had been forcibly retired on a good pension, and the people of Cliffehaven had thrown him a huge party to thank him for the years he’d spent looking after everyone. The railway company gave him a gold pocket watch, demolished the signal box and the remains of the booking hall and waiting room, and that had been that.

  Stan had been desolate to think he was no longer useful, but with his niece April’s encouragement, his allotment was now flourishing, and he’d begun to sell his produce to Sam the greengrocer, which gave him some extra pocket money.

  Danuta had worried about wearing white on her wedding day, for she’d borne a child with Jean-Luc and was far removed from the innocent young girl who’d fled Poland all those years ago. However, Stanislaw seemed to expect her to be dressed like a traditional bride as they were marrying in St Cuthbert’s church, and after discussing it with Peggy, Danuta had bowed to her wisdom and chosen white lace, which wasn’t rationed.

  She’d always hidden her ugly scars and had dreaded Sally seeing them and asking difficult questions when she’d gone for her initial fitting. But Sally had been discretion itself as she’d measured her and then pinned the fabric around her, and the subject never arose.

  Now, at last, it was her wedding day, and Danuta shivered in anticipation as the cool lining of her beautiful dress slithered over her skin. She stood patiently in front of the long mirror as Peggy fastened the concealed zipper at the back, and fussed over the froth of lace which fell from the knees to swirl around her satin shoes into a sweeping train.

  She couldn’t believe how different she looked, and felt a thrill of excitement at how Stanislaw would react when he saw her.

  ‘You look stunning,’ breathed Peggy as she stood behind her and gazed at her reflection. ‘Stan’s going to faint when he sees you.’

  Danuta giggled. ‘I hope not, because if he goes down it will take four men to get him on his feet again.’

  She took Stanislaw’s gift of crystal earrings and necklace from the velvet-lined box, and once they were in place, she turned this way and that to see the effect of the sun shining on them and the tiny sequins stitched into the column of lace that moulded to her slender body, and the way the froth of lace swirled around her feet. Sally had padded and wired the close-fitting, heart-shaped bodice so it stayed firmly in place and didn’t really need the support of the wide satin straps.

  ‘Beautiful,’ sighed Peggy, her eyes bright with tears.

  ‘We must be careful to pin the veil very tightly,’ Danuta said. ‘For if it falls and I look back, it is a very bad luck for Polish bride.’

  Peggy took the gossamer veil and carefully fixed the sparkling comb into Danuta’s glossy dark curls, anchoring it firmly with hairpins. Fluffing it out around the girl’s shoulders to her satisfaction, she stepped back and handed her the sweet-scented posy of early white roses and lily of the valley that young April had made from her uncle’s allotment.

  ‘Perfect,’ she sighed. ‘You really are the most beautiful bride, Danuta, and I’m so proud and happy to be with you on this special day.’ She softly kissed her cheek. ‘I’ll tell Ron he can come up now.’

  ‘Wait, one more moment, Mama Peggy.’ She set aside the posy and took her hands. ‘I want to tell you that I love you with my heart. You have given me so very much, and I will never forget that. And although I am to be Stanislaw’s wife, I will always be your daughter.’

  ‘Oh, Danuta, I never for a moment thought I would lose you.’ Peggy blinked rapidly on her tears to stop them ruining her make-up. ‘We have a saying in England, that a son is a son until he gets him a wife, but a daughter’s a daughter for all of her life – and I firmly believe that’s true. Now, I must fetch Ron, or we’ll be in danger of arriving late at the church.’

  Danuta’s heart was full as Peggy left the room, for although her Polish family were gone, she knew they’d be watching her now, happy in the knowledge that she’d been truly blessed in the loving second family she’d found here in England – and in the man who was soon to be her husband.

  Peggy had to take a moment to repair her make-up before she went down to tell Ron he was needed and to make sure Cordelia and Rosie were ready to be driven to the church. Daisy, Rose and Emily were to be bridesmaids and they had gone ahead with Anne. Martin was best man, and was probably having a hard time of it to keep Stanislaw calm, but knowing the emotional Pole, Peggy suspected there would be many happy tears shed before the day was out, so she made sure she and Ron had plenty of handkerchiefs.

  The drive out to St Cuthbert’s was very pleasant as the sun was shining, the blossom was bursting out in all the trees, and the grassy banks on either side of the road were jewelled with bluebells, anemones and bright yellow crocus.

  She parked the car, noting that Anne was waiting with the children by the ancient church’s steps, the new priest chatting happily with every guest as they arrived. The grumpy old priest Ron had sparred with over many years had finally retired, a
nd Father Finlay was a breath of fresh air, for he’d served as a padre in the navy throughout the war and had a terrific sense of humour.

  Peggy took Cordelia’s arm and followed Rosie into the cool, dark church which had stood here since Saxon times. The ancient stained-glass windows glowed with the sun, emitting a rainbow of colour into the small church to chase away the shadows and bring a sense of warmth. The altar was dressed in white, and April had once again come up trumps by decorating the church with beautiful flowers. She and her Uncle Stan, the now retired stationmaster, smiled a welcome as Peggy walked down the aisle to the soft organ music and low murmur of the wedding guests.

  Everyone had made a terrific effort, Peggy realised, as she saw the smart suits, big hats and pretty dresses. Charlotte, Kitty and Roger sat with their three small toddlers; Sally was with John, Ernie and Harry; Solly and Rachel were sitting with Doris, and a large contingent from the airfield had turned up with their families, as had the district and hospital nurses from both Cliffe and the Memorial.

  Peggy guided Cordelia into the front pew and caught sight of Frank, who looked back at her rather sheepishly as he sat cosily next to Brenda who appeared to be extremely happy to be there. She grinned at him to let him know she approved and then sat down.

  ‘Danuta told me they were seeing one another ages ago,’ she confided in a whisper to Cordelia. ‘But this is the first time they’ve been seen together as a couple.’

  ‘Well, it’s about time,’ said Cordelia, turning to wave and smile at them. ‘I guessed weeks ago.’

  They settled down to wait for the bride, and Peggy watched Stanislaw and Martin who were sitting in the front row of the crowded choir stalls and quietly talking together. They looked very handsome in the Phoenix Air uniform which closely resembled that of the RAF, and had pinned on their medals in honour of the occasion.

  The old oak door creaked alarmingly and Father Finlay came up the aisle with a beaming smile.

  Stanislaw and Martin got to their feet as he approached, and Peggy noted that Stanislaw had gone the most interesting shade of green. She hoped fervently that he wouldn’t faint, but it seemed Father Finlay was well prepared for nervous grooms, for he surreptitiously dug a brandy flask from his pocket. Once both men had taken a restorative nip, he hid it back beneath his white cassock and turned to the congregation.

  ‘If you would, please rise to welcome the bride.’

  The organ music soared to the rafters as Danuta slowly came down the aisle on a very proud Ron’s arm. Her beautiful dress glittered and shimmered as she moved, and her lovely face was positively radiant beneath the veil that drifted around her shoulders.

  Peggy glanced away to Stanislaw whose look of adoration spoke volumes as tears began to fill his eyes and slowly trickle down his face, but Martin had clearly come prepared, for he handed him a handkerchief.

  Danuta floated past on Ron’s sturdy arm, her gaze never leaving the man who waited for her. The little girls were wearing the same dresses they’d had for Rita’s wedding, their coronets of lily of the valley firmly pinned in place. It seemed they were getting the hang of being bridesmaids, for they behaved perfectly.

  ‘I never realised how beautiful our little Danuta is,’ said Cordelia, mopping up her tears.

  ‘Beautiful inside and out,’ murmured Peggy tearfully, watching the groom meet his bride at the steps to lovingly kiss her hand.

  The service was a long one as is the Catholic tradition, with hymns and prayers and the couple taking communion, and Peggy noticed that Danuta had surreptitiously let the hem of her dress cover the top of Stanislaw’s shoe, which according to Polish superstition would give her prominence in the partnership. This made Peggy smile, for they were both as fiery and stubborn as each other, and she’d be most interested to see who emerged the stronger.

  Father Finlay surprised everyone by conducting the vows in Polish, and once they and the rings had been exchanged, he encouraged Stanislaw to kiss his bride, which he did with such alacrity, he had everyone chuckling.

  Peggy, Ron and Cordelia had been fully advised on the etiquette and tradition of a Polish wedding so weren’t at all surprised when Stanislaw’s fellow Poles showered them with small coins along with the confetti as they emerged from the church.

  Photographs were taken on the steps and by the lychgate, and then the happy couple followed the priest into the cemetery to lay flowers on the graves of Aleksy and Katarzyna, and bow their heads as he said a prayer for them in Polish.

  The wedding party finally moved to the Officers’ Club where the reception room had recently been updated and extended to twice the size with a sprung dance floor and huge windows overlooking the coastline. Everyone crowded in to wait for the bride and groom, and when they arrived, they were presented with a specially baked loaf of bread sprinkled with salt, as was the tradition. The bread was to ensure they never went hungry; the salt a reminder of life’s difficulties and the importance of learning to cope.

  Ron stepped forward with two glasses – one filled with water, the other with vodka. It was the bride who had to choose which one to take first, for whoever had the vodka would be the dominant one throughout the marriage. Danuta looked at Ron for a clue, but he merely grinned and refused to say anything.

  Stanislaw roared with delight as he drank the vodka. He lifted his glass high, and Danuta followed suit, and then, to protect the new floor, they wrapped them in napkins and smashed them beneath their feet.

  The vodka was now flowing and the guests presented the happy couple with envelopes containing money before they sat down to enjoy the first course of cheeses and cold meat which Phoenix Air had flown in the day before from Holland. As the vodka continued to flow and the second course arrived, there were constant shouts of ‘Gorzko! Gorzko! ’ urging the couple to kiss, which they did very happily.

  ‘We’re in for a very long session,’ Peggy warned Cordelia, who was really getting into the swing of things. ‘So take it easy with the drink.’

  Cordelia just laughed and knocked back her third vodka.

  The imported food kept on coming, the vodka kept on flowing, and by midnight, Cordelia was asleep in an armchair, and Anne had taken the girls home to bed, so they missed the moment when Danuta’s veil was removed to be replaced by a wedding cap to signify her passage from girlhood to wife. It was traditionally given by the bride’s godmother, but Peggy had been given that honour and she’d placed the cap Sally had made on the girl’s shining curls and kissed her cheek, wishing her all the luck in the world.

  All the single men and women were lined up at each end of the dance floor, and Stanislaw took Danuta into the centre. He threw his tie to the men while she threw her veil to the women, and like the English custom of catching the bouquet, whoever caught the veil and tie would be married within a year – although not necessarily to each other.

  The wedding cake was cut, and then the band struck up and Stanislaw took his bride into his arms and managed a full turn of the floor before they were joined by everyone else. From that moment on the party really got going, and the eating, drinking, dancing and endless toasts continued until the sky grew light and breakfast was served.

  29

  Ruby stubbed out her cigarette as the train chugged slowly to a halt at Cliffehaven station that Sunday afternoon. She returned her silver cigarette case and lighter to her leather handbag and stood to check her appearance in the small mirror below the luggage rack. Her eyes told of her profound sadness, but otherwise she looked reasonably calm and ready to face whatever happened next – although inside, it was a different story altogether. Adjusting her hat and touching the pearls at her neck, she pulled her expensive overcoat on over her two-piece costume, slung the strap of her handbag over her shoulder and gathered up her suitcases.

  This was the sort of homecoming she’d never dreamed she’d make, and as she stepped down from the train, memories of the last time she’d been here came flooding in and made her falter. She’d been so happy then – so in lov
e and excited about the future – a future that had ultimately betrayed her and brought her back.

  Gripping the cases, she determinedly began to walk down the platform, noting that the damaged buildings and old signal box had been removed, and there was no longer a Nissen hut for the left luggage, but a large car park and bus stop had been constructed in their place. Peggy had written to tell her the station was no longer manned, and she could only feel relief that she wouldn’t bump into Stan and have to answer his numerous questions, for there was only one person she wanted to talk to, and that was Peggy.

  However, she missed not seeing him in his customary place on the platform, for he’d been her saviour on that night four years ago when she’d arrived here, bruised and battered with nowhere to go and no one to turn to. And now she was back, once again in need of comfort, but this time her bruises and scars were hidden deep inside her, and she doubted they’d ever fully heal. Glancing towards the stationmaster’s cottage, she quickly turned away to walk down the quiet Sunday afternoon High Street, her high-heeled shoes tapping on the pavement.

  She reached Camden Road, but to avoid having to pass the Anchor where she might be seen, she went down to the promenade and sat in one of the renovated Victorian shelters. Dumping the cases at her feet, she pulled up her collar against the chilly wind and stared out over the grey waters of the English Channel.

  All the while she’d been in Canada the hours had felt like days, the weeks like months, but in reality it hadn’t been very long at all, and nothing much had changed here. But she had changed, the inner steel she’d always relied upon coming to the fore again and proving to her that whatever fate threw at her, she was a survivor. And yet it had taken huge courage to find that strength of purpose when her world had collapsed to leave her floundering in a sea of pain, the likes of which she’d never experienced before – and hoped to God she never would again.