by Ellie Dean
There was a thick mist rolling in, bringing a damp chill to the air which made the scrap of lawn glisten in the pearly light of dawn. She shivered as she stood on the doorstep and waited for Monty to cock his leg and rummage through the undergrowth of the walled garden on the scent of something that had dared to come into his territory. It was probably next door’s ginger tom, which had a habit of teasing Monty by parading along the high wall just out of his reach, and using the garden as a lavatory.
She watched the fog swirling through the remaining blossom on the nearby trees. The weather didn’t look promising, even though it was almost June, and if it went on like this, there would never be an invasion.
‘Come on, Monty. It’s too early and cold to be messing about,’ she said impatiently as he continued to dodge back and forth, nose to the ground.
Monty gave the outside lav one last inspection and then galloped towards her, his long, skinny legs darkened by the wet grass, tongue lolling and ears flapping, eager now for the ritual of a good rub-down and breakfast.
Rosie grabbed a towel from behind the bar and roughly dried him before going back upstairs. She eyed the empty swill bucket in the corner of her kitchen and pursed her lips. Snowy White’s unregistered piglet had lost out on a meal, but there had been a certain satisfaction in tipping it over Ron last night, and she hoped he’d learnt never to serenade her again while falling-down drunk – especially after being seen in Gloria Stevens’s pub.
Having put some food down for Monty, who began to gobble it as if he was half-starved, Rosie realised she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, so she made a cup of tea and stood by the window in her sitting room, to stare down at a deserted Camden Road. The shops were shuttered and locked, the windows of the flats above them blank-eyed with blackout curtains as the sea fret thickened and settled over the roofs in a smothering grey blanket.
The scene was desolate and reflected her mood, for after yesterday she’d come to realise that her relationship with Ron had reached a crossroads – and now she had the real dilemma of deciding what to do about it.
She could accept that he’d drunk too much yesterday – after all, there had been precious few occasions when he could be with his boys, and with Brendon leaving, it was understandable the drinking session had made him emotional. But turning up here causing a ruckus and declaring his undying love for her when he’d gone against her express wishes and chosen to drink in that tart Gloria’s place …
Rosie gave a deep sigh. She would usually have seen the funny side of it and sent him off with a flea in his ear, fully prepared to forgive him once he’d sobered up and apologised. But not this time – not when Gloria was involved. Things couldn’t go on as they were, for as much as she loved him, Ron had taken her forgiveness for granted once too often.
Her outing to the Officers’ Club with Henry had been a revelation, for she’d forgotten how good it felt to be treated as a lady. Henry had been an amusing, attentive lunch companion, asking her opinion on the menu and wine and never once overstepping the mark – so unlike Ron, who usually got into a conversation with an old pal and almost forgot she was there until he fancied a bit of slap and tickle when they got home.
The club itself had proven to be everything she’d expected, for the food had been excellent, the dining room elegantly decorated in muted shades of blue and white, the table laid with crisp linen, heavy silverware and beautiful cut glass. It had reminded her forcibly of the small private hotel her parents had owned during her formative years, for the atmosphere was calm and respectable, the clientele smartly dressed and sophisticated
The Anchor was far removed from what she’d been used to, but it had provided her with an escape from the memories of how devastating her husband James’s rapid mental decline had been when he’d returned so damaged from his experiences of the war back in 1918 – and although her customers came from all walks of life, she kept a respectable establishment, had made good friends and come to feel at home and settled here.
Rosie cradled the warm cup in her hands and gazed out through the mist. She liked and admired Henry and was glad of this new friendship, which had brought a different dimension to her life. But the gossips were probably already having a field day, for she’d known they’d been spotted by Cordelia and Bertie as well as several other diners who were regulars at her pub. She’d said nothing to Henry, knowing it would unsettle him, deciding instead to let the gossips make what they wanted out of their innocent luncheon, and concentrate on Henry who had a raft of amusing stories to tell about his childhood in India.
Yet she knew Ron would get to hear about it sooner or later and, conveniently forgetting his own misdemeanours, would turn up here full of righteous indignation before he tried to dazzle her with his Irish charm and coax her back into the same old routine.
Rosie gritted her teeth, vowing silently that she’d stand firm and demand a great many changes before she even considered succumbing again – and yet she knew that although Ron would do his best, he’d soon slip back into his old ways. She wasn’t at all sure if she had the will to go through all that rigmarole again.
She and Ron had been courting for years, and although he’d proven to be unreliable at times, and hugely irritating and wayward, she’d been drawn to him so strongly she’d been able to overlook his failings and just love him – but she was tiring of the merry-go-round ride that they seemed fated never to escape. Perhaps if they’d been able to get married like other couples, they could have found contentment, and he might not have been so determined to walk his own path and thereby cause trouble between them. But, with her husband confined to an asylum and no legal way of divorcing him, they’d been caught in a sort of limbo, where they couldn’t make any plans for the future until he passed away – which wasn’t the best start to wedded bliss.
Rosie fully accepted that this state of affairs hadn’t been helped by her refusal to let Ron sleep with her no matter how tempted she’d been – and she had been tempted, many a time, for Ron was an extremely fit, charismatic man. But her strict Catholic upbringing meant that the old lectures on hell and damnation still ruled her life, and she found it impossible to break her marriage vows.
Rosie felt utterly depressed by it all. She was in her fifties, with nothing to offer any man but companionship, and she was simply fooling herself into thinking it would be enough for someone as lusty as Ron, who certainly wasn’t short of female admirers. Perhaps it would be kinder to end it now instead of letting it drag on? At least then Ron could find someone who’d give him what he wanted.
She felt a sharp pang of jealousy at the thought and firmly smothered it, recognising it as selfish and unfair – but the spectre of Gloria Stevens taking her place in his affections made her feel quite ill.
She turned from the window to get ready for the day, her dark thoughts milling, her tension rising at the thought of Ron turning up later, full of apologies in the expectation of her forgiving him. It would hurt them both if they were to part – but surely it was the only answer?
Having dressed in slacks and sweater, she pulled on her one pair of flat shoes and a raincoat. ‘Come on, Monty,’ she said briskly, clipping the leash to his collar and reaching for her umbrella. ‘Ron will be busy with Brendon leaving and I need fresh air and space to think things through before he turns up.’
Peggy had woken at the sound of footsteps overhead and water running through the pipes in the bathroom. Fran was up in good time to get to the hospital, and on hearing the quiet voices on the stairs, she gathered Brendon was also up and about. She gave a brief thought to Ron and Frank, who no doubt had spent a very uncomfortable night on her cellar floor, and then slipped out of bed. Pulling on Jim’s old dressing gown, and leaving Daisy and Pauline still asleep, she hurried upstairs to use the bathroom and get dressed for the day.
Daisy was still sleeping when she came back down, so she went into the kitchen to find Pauline bustling about and fussing over Brendon as she shot venomous glares at Frank and Ro
n, who were unusually subdued as they drank their tea. Peggy made no comment about their attire but had to smother a fit of giggles. Ron had certainly pulled out all the stops to impress Rosie, but Frank really did look ridiculous in his father’s clothes.
‘Mum, stop fussing and sit down,’ said Brendon, gently pressing Pauline into a chair. ‘Drink your tea and eat something. My train isn’t due for a while, and it would be lovely to spend the time we have sitting quietly together as if it was just another ordinary day.’
‘But it’s not, is it? How can anything be ordinary with this war on?’ Pauline burst into tears and fled upstairs to lock herself in the bathroom.
Brendon sighed and sat down beside his father. ‘I do wish she wouldn’t do that,’ he said sadly. ‘It makes me feel awfully guilty.’
‘Ach, you’ve nothing to feel guilty about, son,’ rumbled Frank, who was clearly still battling a hangover. ‘She’s always been emotional.’
Peggy wondered if she should go and see if Pauline was all right, then decided it was probably best not to, because Pauline liked an audience for her misery, and without one, she’d pull herself together more quickly and come back down.
She kept an ear open for Daisy waking and sipped the welcome tea as Fran finished her breakfast of dried egg and toast, washed her dishes and reached for her nursing cape. ‘Try to get a decent lunch, Fran,’ said Peggy. ‘I know how busy you get, and you need something substantial to keep you going.’
Fran fastened the cape around her shoulders and smiled. ‘The canteen provides a good hot meal, so there’s nothing for you to worry about, Aunt Peg. And don’t fret if I’m late home. Robert’s managed to get a couple of hours off, and is coming to meet me at the end of my shift to take me out to tea.’
‘It’s about time you two got engaged,’ said Peggy, kissing the girl’s cheek.
‘Ach, we’ll do that when he gets around to asking me,’ replied Fran with an impish grin that lit up her green eyes. ‘But I’m thinking he has rather more important things to concentrate on at the moment.’
‘There’s nothing more important than love,’ replied the ever-romantic Peggy with a happy sigh.
Fran laughed. ‘I don’t think his bosses at the MOD would agree with you.’ She turned to Brendon. ‘Good luck, and just remember we’ll all be here waiting for you to come home, so make sure you do – okay?’
‘I’ll certainly try my best,’ he replied.
Fran patted his shoulder and ran out of the house, slamming the scullery door with a crash that made Frank flinch and woke Daisy.
Peggy was about to go and fetch the child when Cordelia came into the kitchen and eyed the two older men over the rims of her half-moon spectacles.
‘You certainly look cleaner and more respectable this morning,’ she said with a twinkle in her eyes, ‘but if you’re suffering hangovers, you fully deserve them. I’ve never seen anything like it, and hope never to again.’
‘Ach, Cordelia, have a heart,’ groaned Frank. ‘There’s many a time Da and I have had to help you home from the Anchor.’
Her expression sharpened. ‘Are you insinuating that I cannot hold my drink, Frank Reilly?’
‘Aye,’ rumbled Ron, filling his pipe. ‘Four sherries and you’re away with the fairies, so I’d not be the one to throw stones in glass houses if I were you.’
Cordelia raised an eyebrow, but let the remark pass as she was distracted by Brendon serving her toast and tea. ‘Thank you, dear,’ she said, patting him on his freshly shaven cheek. ‘How very handsome you look this morning. It quite makes me wish I was eighteen again,’ she added on a sigh. ‘I always did admire a man in a uniform.’
Brendon grinned and kissed her soft cheek. ‘Would you be flirting with me, Cordelia?’ he teased.
‘I very much think I might be,’ she admitted with a giggle.
‘Will you not be encouraging her,’ growled Ron. ‘To be sure she’s a daft auld woman who should know better.’
‘Not as daft as some who can’t hold their drink and make a spectacle of themselves in the street by howling at the moon,’ fired back Cordelia. She turned back to smile sweetly at Brendon. ‘I might be old, but I can still appreciate the sight of a handsome young man – especially when I’m forced to face that ugly scallywag across the table every day.’
Peggy left them to it, for Cordelia and Ron could trade insults all day long, and Daisy was yelling for attention.
An hour later Brendon had said his goodbyes to the other girls, making a special fuss over Cordelia, who’d become quite sombre as she told him how proud she was of him. Now Peggy was walking up the silent and deserted High Street, her heart heavy at the thought of having to say goodbye to her lovely nephew. She’d left Daisy at home with Sarah and Cordelia as the weather had worsened, the sea fret thickening to muffle every sound.
Peggy and Ron shared the umbrella and trailed behind Brendon, who looked wonderfully smart in his dark RNR uniform as he walked arm in arm between his parents. Harvey trotted along, keeping as close to Brendon as he could, as if he knew he was leaving.
She glanced across at Ron, who’d discarded his poaching coat for once and was wearing his old army greatcoat over his suit. ‘Rosie will be all right once she sees the funny side of things,’ she murmured, seeing his troubled expression. ‘You just have to convince her that you’ll mend your ways.’
‘Aye, I know,’ he replied. ‘And I do try, Peggy, really I do. But things happen, and to be sure I’m in the soup again without even trying. Now I’ve lost me ferrets, me grandson is off to fight a war and Rosie will be on the warpath.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘To be sure, Peggy, ’tis not a day I’m looking forward to at all.’
Peggy didn’t want to meddle any more by mentioning the fact that Rosie had been seen with the Major, for Ron was down in the dumps already, so she just squeezed his arm in sympathy.
Stan was at the station looking rather the worse for wear after his drinking session at the allotment and the ear-bashing he’d had from Ethel on his return. He commiserated with Ron and Frank before grasping Brendon’s hand. ‘I wish you well, son,’ he said fervently.
‘Thanks, Uncle Stan,’ he replied. ‘And when I get back we’ll really have something to celebrate, so you’d better get prepared for a proper knees-up.’
Pauline looked po-faced at this, and tried to put on a brave expression as the train appeared around the bend in the track. She flung her arms about Brendon, clinging to him as if she never wanted to let him go, until Frank and Ron squashed her between them as they too embraced their beloved boy and Harvey ran round them with whines of concern.
It was a sad and worrying day, made even gloomier by the fog, but Peggy was determined to smile brightly and give Brendon a warm and positive send-off. She waited to say her own goodbyes, and as the train pulled up to the platform, Brendon disentangled himself, fussed Harvey and then drew her into his arms.
‘Take care of Mum for me,’ he whispered. ‘I love you, Aunt Peg. Thanks for everything, and I’m sorry things got out of hand last night.’
Peggy clasped his face. ‘You take care of yourself, and when this is over I want to meet your Betty.’ She kissed his cheek, and after a swift hug, he gathered up his kitbag and strode down the platform, Harvey loping after him. Leaving was hard, but long drawn-out farewells were even harder, and it was clear that Brendon had a job to do and was eager to get on with it so he could return home again. Peggy sent up a silent prayer that he would indeed come home, safe and sound.
The four of them stood in a miserable huddle as the troop train hissed and puffed clouds of smoke and steam, and Harvey sat howling on the platform once Brendon had climbed on board and closed the door. Only a handful of passengers alighted, and these were mostly factory workers who hurried away, leaving the servicemen on board who would be going on to the ports, airfields and army camps strung along the length of the coast.
Steam rolled down the platform to mingle with the fog as Harvey continued to howl his anguish at Br
endon’s leaving. The engine driver blew the whistle and Stan waved his flag. Peggy and the others craned their necks for a last glimpse of Brendon and could make out only a faint figure leaning out of a carriage window and waving as the wheels began to turn.
Pauline broke away from Frank and ran down the platform, calling out to Brendon to stay safe. Frank chased after her and gathered her to him, and they stood in a tight embrace as the train gathered speed and, all too soon, was lost from sight.
‘God speed, wee boy,’ murmured Ron, tucking Peggy’s hand into the crook of his arm. ‘To be sure I hate saying goodbyes,’ he said mournfully. ‘When this war’s over and they’ve all come home, I’ll not be wanting them ever to leave again. They come and they go, Peg, and all we can do is watch and wait and do our best to ensure they have a home to come back to.’
Looking towards the forlorn Frank and Pauline, who were still huddled together at the end of the platform, Peggy saw Harvey become animated as a figure emerged through the remnants of the smoke and steam that rolled across the station, and then left the cinder track running alongside the lines and jumped up onto the platform.
She blinked and stared as he approached with a smile and a wave, hardly daring to believe her eyes. ‘Good grief,’ she breathed. ‘It’s Rita’s dad.’
Big, brawny and looking very workmanlike in his army uniform, Jack Smith strode towards her with Harvey at his heels. ‘I fell asleep and only just woke up when the train began to pull out,’ he explained. ‘It was this fellow’s howling that woke me,’ he added, giving Harvey a hefty pat.
‘Oh, Jack, we’re so pleased to see you,’ cried Peggy, throwing her arms about him. ‘Rita will be thrilled.’
Jack’s brown eyes twinkled as he vigorously shook Ron’s hand. ‘I managed to persuade my CO to let me stop off for a couple of hours and catch the later train to meet up with the rest of my regiment. He’s a fair sort of chap, and once I explained the situation with Rita, he agreed immediately.’
