by Rosie Clarke
‘Pierre is upstairs,’ he said, because the café was empty. ‘He has news.’
‘May I use your toilets?’ Marco asked just in case he was being watched from outside and Jean shrugged towards the back door.
Marco went through and up the back stairs to the room directly above. Pierre was reading a newspaper and frowning, the strong odour of French cigarettes testament to how long he’d been there.
‘Was the information correct?’ Marco asked, straight to the point. He needed to know if Kurt’s information was reliable.
Pierre grinned and then nodded. ‘They took the enemy by surprise and inflicted some damage. It won’t shorten the war, but at least it saved the British trenches from being overrun.’
Marco nodded. ‘Good. Let’s hope he comes up with something significant in the future.’
‘He’s running a grave risk – and so are you,’ Pierre said, frowning. ‘Be careful of Paul Mallon. I warned you before – but I’ve heard he has been passing information to the Germans. One of my associates was arrested and shot yesterday – so be wary. Never leave anything about that he might find.’
‘He only visits once a week to collect the takings but I shan’t be careless,’ Marco assured him. ‘I’d better go in case anyone comes in.’
Pierre nodded. ‘I’m visiting a relative this weekend so I shan’t be here – if you have anything, leave it with Jean or Cecile.’
Marco nodded. ‘Take care, my friend.’
Smiling, he walked down the stairs and through to the café. When he entered, he saw two customers were drinking coffee, but neither were German and they didn’t so much as look up. He was thoughtful as he strolled back to the club. Kurt’s information had been good, perhaps soon he would have something really important to pass on.
23
There was a delicious smell of stew as Marion entered the kitchen after work that evening. For a moment, her thoughts went back to the time when her mother had always had a meal ready for them, but then she saw Sarah at the stove and smiled at her. Dan’s wife had settled into living with them and proved her worth over and over again. She cooked and cleaned despite Marion telling her there was no need to do so much.
‘I want to do it for you,’ Sarah had told her. ‘You’ve had so much to do, Marion, and little thanks for it. Now it’s your turn to be spoiled a little – and remember, when the baby comes, you’ll be looking after me for a couple of weeks.’
‘I spoke to Beth Burrows,’ Marion said, smiling at her fondly. ‘She says I can have two weeks off at one go, though I’m not entitled to it – but she will arrange it with Mrs Bailey and I’ll just lose pay for the four days that aren’t a part of my holiday.’
‘You wouldn’t rather I booked up to go into the hospital?’
‘It isn’t particularly nice at the infirmary – and Mrs Henley from three doors down lost the baby she had there to infection. She said she much prefers a home birth with the midwives in attendance. You did call at Annersley House and book with them, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I did, and Nurse Carrow examined me. She said I was doing well and I’ve got to attend the classes for new mothers once a week – so that means I’ll meet people.’ Sarah sighed. ‘Your neighbours are lovely, Marion, but most of the young women are at work during the day.’
Marion nodded, because it was true. Many of the women in the lane went to work to help make ends meet. Some worked in canteens provided for troops on leave but away from home and some had landed jobs on the trams that trundled all over London. Nearly all the younger women had husbands working in the forces or other important jobs, but none of them earned very much and their wives and daughters were helping to do the jobs the country needed them to do while so many men were away. Older women looked after babies or very young children while the younger ones worked in canteens or factories, filling the jobs the men had left behind in their rush to join up.
Marion smiled and accepted a cup of tea. She had very little to do in the evenings now, so she was busy knitting clothes for Sarah and Dan’s baby. Despite both Kathy and Marion trying to show her, Sarah hadn’t picked up the skill and kept dropping her stitches, so Kathy and Marion had taken charge of the knitting. Sarah was better at sewing and embroidery and she’d made some pretty little dresses and a wonderful shawl, using Mrs Jackson’s sewing machine. Milly had taken a shine to Dan’s wife and divided her time between her and Granny Jackson next door, which meant Marion never had to worry about her youngest sister. Life had improved for all of them since Sarah’s arrival.
‘I should love a shawl just like that if I ever have a baby,’ Marion told her when she showed her the delicate thing wrapped in layers of tissue after they’d eaten the delicious stew. ‘It is so lovely, Sarah. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘I saw one in Swann & Edgar’s store,’ Sarah replied. ‘It was terribly expensive – about six guineas – and I made mine for two pounds.’
‘Really?’ Marion touched it reverently. ‘If you can sew this well, Sarah, you could have a career making lovely clothes for people.’
Sarah glanced over her shoulder. ‘I bought a piece of heavy yellow linen the other day. I was going to make a Sunday best dress for Kathy – do you think she would like it?’
‘I think she would love it,’ Marion said. ‘It’s not her birthday for months though.’
‘It doesn’t have to be,’ Sarah said. ‘I’m grateful that she has accepted me, Marion. I know Kathy wasn’t sure about me at first, but she is much nicer to me now.’
‘She has no reason to be anything else,’ Marion retorted. ‘You’ve saved us both a lot of work, Sarah, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the extra treats – we couldn’t afford sponge pudding and custard or a lovely fresh cream cake every day. We made things like that last and we had them for special occasions. My housekeeping money doesn’t run to treats like that often, so I know you paid for them.’
‘A little money isn’t a problem,’ Sarah said and smiled. ‘It annoyed my father to know that I had my own small legacy. He couldn’t dictate to me as he used to and when I wouldn’t give in over Dan, he got so angry that he practically pushed me out of the house. I sneaked in when he went out later that day and fetched some of the things I cared for, but he would have stopped me taking even those few things if he could.’
‘He was so unkind to you,’ Marion said. ‘But I’ll bet he’s sorry now. I’ll bet he wishes he hadn’t been so nasty – look at what he’s lost.’
‘It was his choice,’ Sarah said, raising her head. ‘I wouldn’t go back there now, whatever he offered me.’
‘His loss is our gain,’ Marion told her and gave her a gentle hug. ‘I couldn’t be more pleased to have you living here, love.’
‘I’m so happy to be here,’ Sarah said and looked at her anxiously. ‘I haven’t had a letter from Dan for months. I wrote and told him where I was – do you think he’s written to my old address?’
‘He might have done.’ Marion hesitated, then, ‘Would you like me to go to your father’s house and ask if there are any letters for you?’
Sarah hesitated, then, ‘Would you mind? It would have to be on your afternoon off, because it is too far for you to walk in your lunch hour.’
‘You do so much here that I can spare the time for you, Sarah – and I’ll know if he’s lying. People nearly always get angry when they lie and you can see it in their eyes.’
Sarah sighed. ‘He has probably destroyed the letters if they came, but at least we’ll know. I’d go myself, but I doubt he’d open the door to me.’
‘No, leave your father to me,’ Marion said quickly. ‘He might do something to hurt you, Sarah. I shan’t risk it, I care about you and the baby too much.’
Tears welled in Sarah’s eyes and spilled over. ‘I’m so lucky to have a sister like you,’ she whispered chokily. ‘Some girls would have thought me too much trouble and turned me away.’
Marion kissed her on the cheek. ‘I’m going to make us a
ll some cocoa now. Dickon is out with his friends and Kathy is in bed reading – I think she’s actually making a present for my birthday, but that’s a secret and I’m not supposed to know.’ She smiled, because Kathy was being very secretive.
‘No, you’re not and I shan’t tell you,’ Sarah said and gave a gurgle of laughter. ‘Has Dickon got his key – or shall we leave the door on the latch?’
‘Dickon has his key. I never leave the door unlocked when we go up.’ Marion still lived in fear that her father might walk in on them unannounced. Dan had changed the lock after his father’s last visit and Dickon always took his own key if he went out at night with friends.
Sarah nodded. Marion had told her about her father’s violent rages and so had Dan. ‘I’ll pop up and ask Kathy if she wants some cocoa, shall I?’
‘Yes…’ Marion poured milk into a saucepan and put it on the range to warm. She touched the letters in her pocket – three of them from Reggie and one from Robbie; she would let Kathy share her brother’s letter later. They’d come all at once, though some ought to have arrived weeks ago. Because she knew Sarah had heard nothing from Dan, Marion hadn’t told her about her letters. She was saving them to read when she was alone in her room.
Reggie’s letters were brief but filled with love and his thoughts of her and home. He told her over and over that he couldn’t wait to be with her again and he wanted them to marry – well, perhaps they could now. Sarah’s arrival had changed things. Marion no longer carried the whole responsibility for the family and it might be that she could help bridge the gap that Marion’s loss of wages would make should she fall for a child. There was no reason why they should not all continue to live in the same house until the war ended and then they could split into two households. Once Reggie and Dan were home, they would sort it out between them.
I think you may know of Lieutenant Mick O’Sullivan; I was on the hospital transport last week and I took him down to the hospital where Nurse Gibbs is on duty. You know her – she seemed concerned for him and when I saw her last, she told me that he was doing well.
Reggie had signed his letter with kisses and love as always and Marion smiled as she kissed the signature and put the letters away in her drawer. She would tell Mrs Burrows the news and she would pass it on to Mrs Harper. Marion liked Sally Harper, but she didn’t feel able to approach her with a piece of personal news, better for it to come from Mrs Burrows, because she was a family friend and Marion was just an employee. Perhaps Maggie would already have written to her, but if she hadn’t, she was sure that both her supervisor and Mrs Harper would be glad to know that Mick was getting on well.
Marion’s half-day fell on the Wednesday that week. Instead of catching the bus home, she took one across the river to Southwark and got off just yards from the leafy avenue where Sarah’s father’s house was situated. It was an impressive house with a red door, a large black knocker and three floors, all the windows curtained with heavy drapes and hardly open. Far more expensive than anything Marion could ever afford, even when she and Reggie were married. No doubt Sarah’s father felt that his daughter had married beneath her. She was glad that she was wearing the new coat she’d bought in Harpers’ sale in January; with her staff discount it had been as cheap as something off the market and she loved it. She was also wearing a jaunty red hat with a feather. At least she looked respectable.
She stepped up to the door and knocked sharply. It was a moment or two before the door opened and a maid dressed in black with a white apron stood there, her attitude cold and forbidding.
‘I am Miss Marion Kaye and I would like to speak to Mr Harkness.’
‘I don’t know if he will see you,’ the maid sniffed as if Marion was something the cat had brought in and hesitated.
‘I think you will find he wishes to see me – I have news of his daughter, Sarah.’
‘You’d better step inside, miss.’ The maid reluctantly allowed Marion to step inside the hall, glaring at her as she said, ‘Wait there and don’t move an inch.’
Marion smiled to herself. Did the maid think she was going to pinch the silver?
She heard a gruff voice bark something at the luckless servant and then a shout. The next moment, a man came storming into the hall. He was of medium height, stout with grey hair and fierce blue eyes and dressed in a smart blue suit and a white shirt with a black tie.
‘Where is she?’ he demanded, looking furious. ‘If she thinks she can just sneak back here and I’ll let her stay, she can think again…’
‘Sarah isn’t asking you to take her back,’ Marion said, looking him in the eye. She wasn’t afraid of him and he couldn’t bully her as he had his daughter. Marion had sometimes been nervous of her own father but not this man, who seemed all fire and wind to her. ‘She just wants to know if there are any letters for her.’
‘Impertinent miss!’ he growled at Marion. ‘No, there are not – and if there were, I should burn them.’
‘They are her property and you have no right to deny her,’ Marion persisted.
‘Who gave you permission to come here and make demands of me?’ he asked, his voice rising to fury. He shook his fist at her, advancing to within inches of her face. ‘Get out of my house and don’t come back – and tell that girl, if she wants anything from me, she can crawl on her hands and knees.’
‘Sarah only wants her husband’s letters,’ Marion said, bravely standing her corner. She raised her head, looking him in the eyes. ‘She doesn’t need anything from you – just what belongs to her.’
‘Out! Out I say!’ He seized a stick from a huge Chinese vase in the hall and brandished it at her. ‘Wretch! I’ll not be spoken to by a guttersnipe like you.’
‘You are a rude, mannerless man and you don’t deserve a lovely daughter like Sarah or a grandchild,’ Marion said, tossed her head at him and left, shutting the front door behind her with a snap. She thought he might come after her and threaten her but he didn’t and Marion had reached the end of the street when she felt a touch on her arm. She turned and saw a young girl dressed in the grey dress and white apron of a kitchen maid.
‘Oh, Miss Kaye,’ she said. ‘I’m glad I caught you. I heard the shouting and when Carla told me who you were…’ She took a rather crumpled envelope from her pocket. ‘I grabbed this before anyone saw it. It’s for Miss Sarah and I knew they would destroy it, so I kept it for her, but I didn’t know where Miss Sarah was…’
‘That is very kind of you. I’m not sure what your name is?’
‘I’m Lily, miss. I was always fond of Miss Sarah – Miss Sarah was the only one kind to me in that house… How is she managing?’
‘Very well, Lily. I’m sure Sarah will want to thank you – if you’d like to see her, you are welcome to come to my house.’ Marion took a scrap of paper from the notebook she used at Harpers and scribbled her address on it. ‘Don’t let anyone else see that.’
‘I won’t and I’ll come on my day off.’ Lily’s face lit up. ‘Thank you so much, Miss Kaye – I’d better get back, but I’ll come when I can.’
‘Yes, I don’t want you to get the sack.’ Marion smiled at her. ‘Although if you ever want to leave here, come to Harpers for a job. We’re still looking for honest girls to work with us.’
‘Oh, miss, they’d never take on the likes of me.’
‘If you don’t ask, you’ll never know.’
Lily gave a little giggle and ran off.
Marion looked at the envelope she’d given her. She knew the writing at once; it was from Dan. Sarah’s father would have destroyed it if he’d got hold of it, but Lily had taken it and saved it. Marion smiled. It had been worth the trip and she didn’t care two hoots about the way Sarah’s father had spoken to her. He was a foolish bad-tempered man and one day he would realise what he’d lost.
‘Oh, Marion.’ Sarah’s eyes filled with tears as she saw the letter. ‘Thank you so much – and I shall reward Lily if she comes to see me. I knew he must have written to me.’ She tore open
the letter and read it quickly, then looked at Marion, eyes shining. ‘He hadn’t had my last letters when he wrote this – but he says he has leave due to him and he hopes to be home when the baby is due, either just before or after anyway.’
‘That’s lovely,’ Marion said. ‘You must write again and tell him you’re here with us and I shall too, and hopefully he will come here when he gets leave.’
‘Oh, Marion, I was so afraid that something had happened to him…’ She looked at the letter again. ‘This was written nearly three months ago.’
‘Perhaps your father destroyed the others,’ Marion suggested as she saw the anxiety return. ‘I know he has destroyed some, because I could see he was lying – but there might be a letter at your old lodgings. Would you like me to call there for you?’
‘No, I can do that,’ Sarah said. ‘I didn’t want to face my father, but I’m not worried about my landlord. I asked him to save any letters for me, so I’ll go there tomorrow.’
‘Yes,’ Marion said. ‘That’s a good idea, but I’m sure Dan is fine.’
‘He hasn’t written to you either, has he?’
‘No – but he would write to you more often,’ Marion offered.
Sarah nodded, but Marion could see that she was still concerned. If no other letters had come since this one, it might mean… But, no, Marion would never believe that. She was sure she would know if anything bad had happened to either of her brothers or Reggie, but it was a little concerning. She would keep her fingers crossed that there was a more recent letter from Dan at Sarah’s old lodgings.
24
‘I’m afraid I’m unable to supply the particular tea service you asked for, Mrs Harper,’ the salesman told Sally when she rang the firm and placed her three-monthly order. ‘We do not have anything in the bone china line at all for the moment – it is so difficult for the manufacturers to get the right mix they need, so they’ve suspended those lines until further notice.’
