With a Kiss and a Prayer (The Cliffehaven Series)

by Ellie Dean

  12

  The past week had been fraught with worry and tension, and as Peggy slowly walked back from Sunday mass with Daisy, she hoped that things would calm down; the weather would improve now they were into the fourth day of June, and the invasion would finally get under way. They’d all thought it had started the previous day when massed squadrons of aeroplanes had swarmed across the Channel, and warships had been sighted off the east coast – but it turned out it was simply another bombing raid on the Pas-de-Calais.

  And yet, as the new week loomed, very few of Peggy’s worries had been resolved, and she suspected things wouldn’t improve for a while yet. Ron was moodier than ever, often disappearing early and not returning until after closing time at the Anchor. He’d still not heard a peep from Rosie, and although it obviously bothered him, Peggy had begun to wonder if there was something more serious on his mind. He didn’t look at all well and was often distracted, rarely dredging up a smile or rising to Cordelia’s gentle teasing. Peggy had tried to winkle out of him what was bothering him but, as usual, he refused to enlighten her, so she could only assume that whatever it was, he was determined to deal with it on his own.

  Sarah and Rita were also causing her concern, for Sarah had gone very quiet the previous day after the post had arrived and had brushed off Peggy’s gentle questions, saying she was missing her mother, and wished wholeheartedly that they weren’t living on opposite sides of the world. But again, Peggy wondered if there was more to it.

  As for Rita, she’d been enlivened by the Australian’s rather too regular company, and although Peter Ryan was utterly charming, Peggy fretted that he seemed to have a lot of free time considering he was supposed to be tutoring cadet pilots. Was he all that he seemed – or was she just being over-protective of Rita?

  She waited while Daisy picked some dandelions and daisies from the grass verge, and watched as fighters and bombers thundered overhead. They’d been noisy since five this morning, and as she looked out to sea, she could make out the dark palls of smoke rising from the distant shores of France. The raids had grown in intensity of late, and Peggy was amazed that there could be anything left to bomb over there.

  She took the wilting flowers from Daisy and held her little hand as she continued along the narrow road towards Beach View. She’d heard nothing from Pauline since Dolly’s letters, and Peggy was rather relieved that she seemed to have accepted things and not made her usual fuss – or if she had, poor Frank had borne the brunt of it.

  She gave a sigh as she reached the cul-de-sac and regarded the pile of rubble that had once been two fine houses. Beach View looked as shabby and unkempt as the others in the row, with bullet scars pockmarking the walls, the lovely stained-glass windows on either side of the door replaced by strips of hardboard. The brass knocker was almost black from lack of polish, and the concrete steps hadn’t been whitewashed for years. There had once been fancy wrought-iron lamps set into the sturdy pillars either side of the bottom step, but they’d been shattered during a raid, and Ron had taken a rasp to them and cut them off at the base. Jim wouldn’t recognise the place when he came home.

  Disheartened, but determined not to let it spoil her day, she continued up the hill and along the alley to her back gate.

  Daisy grabbed the dandelions and daisies and ran ahead of her to Cordelia, who was sitting in a deckchair reading the newspaper with Queenie curled contentedly in her lap. ‘Gan-Gan, look what I got,’ she yelled, shoving the flowers at her, and making the cat skitter off to the safety of the shed roof.

  ‘They’re lovely, darling,’ Cordelia replied, taking the poor things from the child’s hot little hand. ‘But I think they might need a bit of water, don’t you?’ She struggled out of the chair and found an empty jam jar in Ron’s pile of things to be taken to the tip by the back door, then filled it from the outside tap and let Daisy arrange the flowers.

  Peggy smiled as she watched them. Daisy adored Cordelia and the feeling was mutual, and it was heart-warming to see them so absorbed in each other. Daisy’s unexpected arrival had given new purpose to Cordelia’s life after the boys had been evacuated to Somerset, and with the girls regarding her as a grandmother, she felt loved and useful.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on, and open that kitchen window,’ she said, giving the elderly lady a kiss on her soft cheek. ‘The house could do with airing after all the rain we’ve had.’

  ‘There’s a surprise waiting for you up there,’ said Cordelia, with a twinkle in her eyes. ‘It’s the reason we’ve kept the window shut.’

  Peggy hurried indoors, taking off her hat and coat as she ran up the concrete steps. The heavenly aroma of roasting lamb greeted her as she pushed through the kitchen door, and with a gasp of delight, couldn’t resist opening the oven.

  Golden potatoes were sizzling nicely alongside roasting carrots and onions, and the fat was crisping on the half leg of lamb. Her mouth watered as she hurriedly checked on the door to the scullery. She now understood fully why everything had been kept tightly shut. Neighbours would smell the cooking meat and questions would be asked – and as she had no idea where the meat had come from, it would make things very difficult, especially if it proved to be stolen or purchased on the black market.

  ‘Doesn’t it smell wonderful?’ said Rita, swinging into the room on her crutches. ‘Pete brought it over and swears he got it legally.’ She giggled. ‘I suspect he chatted up one of the women in the canteen at Cliffe and swapped it for a couple of cartons of American cigarettes.’

  ‘That was very enterprising of him,’ murmured Peggy, who wasn’t totally convinced by Rita’s story. ‘Will he be joining us for lunch?’

  ‘He’s on duty all day, unfortunately, but he wanted us all to have a treat by way of thanking you.’

  ‘Thanking me?’ said Peggy with a frown. ‘What on earth for?’

  ‘For putting up with him and feeding him tea and biscuits.’ Rita grinned. ‘He knows you don’t really approve of him.’

  ‘I …. I …’ Peggy stuttered.

  Rita gave her a quick hug before filling the kettle. ‘Go and sit in the sun while I make the tea. Lunch won’t be ready for almost an hour, so me and Ivy can come and sit with you before we dish up.’

  ‘Where are Fran and Sarah?’

  ‘Fran’s lying in as she’s on nights next week, and Sarah’s gone for a walk down on the prom.’ Rita’s bright brown eyes were suddenly clouded with concern. ‘She’s really not herself since she met up with Delaney, and I think she’s finding it very difficult to come to terms with the fact there can be no future in it. He’s hardly likely to dump a wife and two kids for her, is he? And once the war’s over and he goes home to America, he’ll probably forget all about her.’

  Peggy nodded, her expression sad. ‘It’s all a terrible mess, but there’s nothing any of us can do but be there when she needs us.’ She put her arm about Rita’s narrow waist. ‘And I don’t disapprove of Peter – I’m just concerned you’ll get into a similar tangle.’

  Rita rested her head on Peggy’s shoulder. ‘Please don’t worry about me, Aunty Peg. I’m a big girl now, and can take care of myself.’

  Peggy kissed her, her thoughts flying to Cissy who’d been inclined to get romantically attached at the drop of a hat until she’d met her American pilot – and then wistfully remembered herself at Rita’s age. She’d thought she’d known it all too, but in reality she’d been little more than a child when she’d met and married Jim in haste. She harboured no regrets, for the marriage was a happy one, but she knew how very lucky she was to have found the right man when so many girls of her generation had rushed into things only to find they’d made the most awful mistake.

  Sunday lunch was an absolute triumph – a rare feast in these austere days, to be savoured and celebrated. Everyone was in party mood as they tucked in, and Peggy decided that a bottle of Ron’s rather lethal parsnip wine was in order. Consequently they were all a little tipsy as they sat back, replete and contented.

 
Peggy lit a cigarette. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a proper Sunday lunch,’ she said. ‘And I’d forgotten how delicious roast lamb can be.’ She smiled at Rita. ‘Peter certainly knows the way to a woman’s heart.’

  Rita went a bit pink as she gathered the dirty plates for Ivy to carry to the sink. ‘He’ll probably turn up in the week, so you can thank him then.’

  ‘It’s a shame Ron missed out,’ said Peggy. ‘He used to love his Sunday roast.’

  ‘I’ve put his share on a plate, so all he has to do is warm it up and add hot gravy when he gets back from the Anchor,’ said Ivy, busy washing dishes at the sink. ‘The fat’s been run off and put in a jug, and I’ve scraped the bone so Queenie and Harvey get their share.’

  ‘I’ll boil the bone for stock,’ said Peggy dreamily. ‘It’ll certainly add some flavour to the next rabbit stew.’

  ‘To be sure I’ve had enough rabbit to last me a lifetime,’ muttered Fran. ‘When this war’s over, I never want to see another one.’

  ‘We’re all jolly lucky Ron brings those rabbits home,’ said Cordelia, eyeing Fran over her half-moon glasses. ‘He’s not much use in the scheme of things, but you can’t deny that he’s a good provider of meat when most people have to go without.’

  The tranquillity of Peggy’s kitchen was broken by the jangling of the telephone in the hall, and she reluctantly went to answer it. Before she could even say hello, her sister, Doris, was already in full flood.

  ‘Well, I hope you’re satisfied,’ Doris barked. ‘You were the one who encouraged her, and now she’s left me high and dry. This is an appalling way to carry on, and I will not stand for it, do you hear?’

  ‘I don’t know what on earth you’re talking about,’ Peggy managed as Doris paused to take a breath. ‘And I don’t appreciate you telephoning me on a Sunday just to bully me.’

  ‘Pauline has handed in her notice at the WVS and left me with no one to cover her shift,’ snapped Doris. ‘You’ll have to come in. I simply can’t be expected to cope here on my own.’

  Peggy gripped the receiver. ‘If you have an issue with Pauline, then I suggest you drive over to Tamarisk Bay and have it out with her. I’m not coming in, Doris, and that’s final.’

  ‘I don’t see why I should use my precious petrol when you have nothing better to do than lounge about at the weekends,’ said Doris crossly. ‘It wouldn’t hurt you to get some exercise by walking over there.’

  Peggy gritted her teeth. Doris had a nerve talking to her like that, but then she never did stop to think before she opened her trap – and that had always led to trouble. She forced some calm into her tone. ‘You use your car all the time,’ she said. ‘One little trip to Tamarisk Bay won’t put a dent in that hoard of petrol I know you keep hidden in your garage.’

  ‘I need it to get about to do my charity work,’ Doris said tightly.

  Peggy let the silence stretch, determined not to be bullied into doing something she really didn’t want to do.

  ‘Well, I can see I’ll get no help from you,’ Doris said eventually. ‘But then I’m not surprised. You’re no doubt too taken up with Ronan Reilly and those girls to care about me – but then I’m only family, so obviously don’t matter.’

  ‘I’m not playing this game, Doris,’ Peggy said evenly. ‘You might be family, but I’ve seen and heard precious little of you since I started working at Solly’s – unless you want something.’

  ‘You know my feelings about you working at that ghastly factory,’ Doris retorted.

  ‘I certainly do. Now, if you’ve quite finished, I’d like to get on with my Sunday.’ Peggy firmly replaced the receiver and took a deep breath before she went back to the kitchen.

  Cordelia eyed her quizzically. ‘Let me guess; that was the dreaded Doris.’

  ‘How on earth do you know that?’

  ‘Because you’ve gone all pink, your shoulders are up by your ears and you’ve bunched your fists,’ said Cordelia with a twinkle in her eyes. ‘I know she winds you up like a clock, but really, Peggy, you shouldn’t let her.’

  ‘That’s easier said than done,’ she replied, realising Cordelia was right as she uncurled her fists and eased the tension in her shoulders. ‘It seems Pauline has deserted the WVS, and it’s all my fault,’ she sighed.

  ‘I couldn’t stand that woman bossing me about a minute longer,’ said Pauline, stepping through the scullery door and into the kitchen. She sniffed the air. ‘Can I smell roast lamb?’

  Everyone shook their heads and tried not to look guilty.

  ‘It’s just a lamb bone I’ve been cooking down,’ said Peggy, crossing her fingers beneath the table at the fib. She got up from the table and hugged her sister-in-law. ‘It’s lovely to see you, Pauline. Come in and have a cup of tea.’

  ‘I could certainly do with a cuppa after that walk. Frank’s mending nets and sorting out the engine on his fishing boat, so I thought I’d come over to ask your advice.’

  Peggy’s spirits wavered as she poured out the tea. ‘Is it about what to do now you’ve stopped volunteering with the WVS?’ she asked hopefully.

  Pauline took a sip of tea, and watched over the rim of her cup as the girls and Cordelia quietly left the kitchen with Daisy. ‘I’ve already signed on to volunteer for the Red Cross,’ she said. ‘I was impressed by how organised they were, and how pleasant the people in charge are. I’ve had it with Doris and her snooty cronies ordering me about like a skivvy.’

  ‘Well done you,’ breathed Peggy, now understanding why her sister had been so cross. ‘So what advice were you looking for, Pauline? You and Frank are all right, aren’t you?’

  ‘We muddle along very nicely now we talk more and discuss what’s bothering us. We still mourn our darling boys, but we do it together, and of course Brendon is never far from our thoughts.’ Her voice wavered, and the cup rattled in the saucer as she put it down.

  Peggy had a horrible feeling she knew where this conversation was leading, but said nothing as Pauline lit a cigarette and made a visible effort to control her emotions.

  ‘I don’t know what to do about Mother,’ Pauline said finally. ‘She’s probably too embarrassed to say anything to you, but she wrote and told me about Carol’s father.’ She paused for effect but then hurried on before Peggy could say anything. ‘It turns out he’s General Felix Addington, who was overseeing whatever was going on in Devon. She hadn’t been expecting to see him ever again, but his turning up like that forced her to confess the truth, to him and to Carol.’

  ‘She wrote to me about it too,’ Peggy murmured.

  Pauline stared at her. ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘We’ve been friends a long time, as you very well know, and she wanted me to be aware of what had happened in case you needed support,’ said Peggy. ‘I can understand that it must have come as an awful shock, especially to Carol, but, happily, things seem to have been resolved.’

  Pauline glared. ‘Resolved? Not as far as I’m concerned,’ she snapped. ‘Mother has obviously lived a very rackety and secret life – which is shame enough for me and Carol to have to contend with – and she would have continued in the same vein if it hadn’t been for that American inconveniently turning up and forcing her to come clean.’

  Pauline took a shallow breath and continued before Peggy could comment. ‘She lied to Carol, lied to Felix, and now I’m wondering just how many lies she told me.’

  Peggy could see that Pauline was close to losing control. ‘Why would you doubt her, Pauline?’ she asked calmly. ‘You’ve always known who your father was. Dolly never made a secret of that.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’ Pauline retorted. ‘When someone can live a lie like that for over twenty years, then she’s capable of anything.’ She stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette forcibly in the ashtray. ‘Who’s to say the man whose name is on that marriage certificate was my father? She’s clearly had many lovers over the years, and could easily have had an affair and passed me off as his.’

 
; Peggy saw the light of battle in Pauline’s eyes and knew she wouldn’t let this go easily. ‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you, Pauline,’ she said earnestly. ‘Dolly was barely seventeen when she married your father, and certainly wasn’t the sort of girl to have affairs – in fact, she’s had very few over the years. She liked men and they liked her, but until she met Felix, she’d kept them all at arm’s length.’

  ‘You can’t possibly know that,’ said Pauline flatly. ‘Mother’s secretive and a proven liar; she could have been up to anything – especially when she was in London or working as a translator abroad.’

  She crossed her arms tightly about her waist. ‘In fact, I’ve begun to wonder if she really is living in Bournemouth, because there’s never any answer when I ring her there.’

  ‘Dolly was never a tart,’ Peggy said evenly. ‘She made mistakes, just as we all do, but that doesn’t mean you can condemn her. She married your father because she was young, naïve and thought she loved him, and he let you both down by walking out shortly after you were born.’

  Peggy could see Pauline wasn’t convinced, so pushed the point. ‘When she met Felix it was love at first sight, and she truly thought they had a future together until he confessed he had a small son and a sick wife at home who he couldn’t divorce. She was devastated, unable to tell him she was expecting his baby because she’d wanted more from him than an affair. She didn’t want him to stay with her out of duty, or become a long-distance father who would probably lose interest in Carol when he was caught up in his life in America.’

  ‘She said all of that in her letter, but I can’t believe any of it,’ Pauline interrupted, on the verge of angry tears. ‘And now I don’t know who I am, or where I came from. I can’t forgive her for that.’

  Peggy felt a stab of exasperated pity for this woman who found it impossible to see things from anyone’s point of view other than her own. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ she said, reaching for her hand. ‘I know it’s a lot to absorb, but I promise you, Dolly never lied about your father.’