After Christmas dinner had been served and cleared away, it was nearly time for the concert. Miriam still hadn’t made up her mind whether she was going to take part, even as she joined the other performers in the dining hall. How could she sing about love when her heart was so heavy with misery?
‘But you must,’ Miss Tanner encouraged her. ‘What would the Christmas show be without “Lo, How a Rose E’er Blooming”? Your public will be expecting it.’
Miriam glanced at the ward sister suspiciously. It was always difficult to tell whether Violet Tanner was joking or not.
But then she saw Miss Davis in the background, with a definite smirk on her face. Since when had the Assistant Matron cracked a smile at anything?
But sarcastic or not, she had to admit Miss Tanner had a point. ‘Perhaps I will sing, after all,’ she sighed. If nothing else, she would bring a touch of finesse to the proceedings that they would otherwise lack. ‘But don’t expect me to wear a costume,’ she added. ‘I’m not in the mood.’
‘I wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Trott,’ Violet Tanner replied, with a quick look at Miss Davis. Now they were both smiling. Since when did she and Miss Tanner become so thick together? Miriam had always been under the impression they couldn’t abide each other. It was all most peculiar.
She took to the stage, surveying the rows of audience in front of her. At the front she could see her great friend Mrs Goodwood, her pregnant bulk concealed by a vast flannel dressing gown, smiling encouragingly up at her. Miriam nodded to Miss Tanner, who struck up the opening bars on the piano. She looked up, surveyed her audience and opened her mouth to sing, when a bright flash of scarlet at the back of the dining hall caught her gaze. Miriam turned her head to see Frank Tillery standing at the back of the room, clutching an enormous bunch of red carnations.
At first she thought she must be seeing things. But no, there he was, large as life. When he caught her eye, he lifted his hand and gave her a little wave.
‘Get on with it, love!’
Miriam hadn’t realised she had forgotten to sing until she heard the laughter coming from the audience. Startled, she gazed across at all the amused faces, then down at Miss Tanner. Violet was still tinkling away determinedly on the piano, playing the opening bars over and over again, a puzzled frown on her face.
Miriam opened her mouth to sing, but her throat was dry and her mind so blank she couldn’t remember a single word. Humiliated, she did the only thing she could, and fled off stage.
She pushed her way through the crowd of performers waiting to go on stage, ignoring their murmurs of concern, and hurried outside, desperate to escape the scene.
‘Miriam?’ She heard Frank’s voice behind her in the passageway, but she didn’t stop. ‘Miriam, please! Wait!’
She stopped, whirling round to face him, spitting with fury. ‘What are you doing here?’
He looked taken aback. ‘I – I had to see you,’ he stammered. ‘I couldn’t leave it like this. I wanted to talk to you, to explain—’
‘There is nothing to explain,’ she cut him off. ‘We’ve said all we had to say to each other.’
She started to turn away from him but he took hold of her arm, swinging her back round to face him.
‘Miriam, please, listen to me—’
‘You’re wasting your time, Frank. I told you, I’m not a rich heiress. So why don’t you leave me alone and go off and chase some rich woman instead?’
He stared at her blankly. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You know very well, Frank Tillery.’ She pulled herself from his grasp and started to walk away.
‘I’ll give it up,’ he called after her.
She turned round. ‘What?’
‘I’ll give it up, if that’s what you want. I’ll talk to my publishers, tell them I’m not doing it any more. If that’s what it takes to win you back—’
Miriam interrupted, ‘Publishers? What publishers?’
Frank frowned. ‘That’s what all this is about, isn’t it? My writing?’
Miriam stared at him. ‘You’re a writer?’
Frank looked offended. ‘There’s no need to be unkind. I know you’ve already made it clear what you think of my novels—’
‘Your novels?’
‘Agatha Pendlebury’s novels, I should say. What did you say about them?’ He paused for a moment, searching for the words. “There’s romance and there’s rubbish,” I believe were your words.’ He smiled self depracatingly. ‘I suppose you’re right, they’re hardly works of great literature. And it’s not really a job for a man, is it? I only started doing it when I came out of the RAF, for a bit of fun more than anything. But then I realised I had rather a knack for it, and it paid well, so—’ He shrugged.
‘Agatha Pendlebury?’ Miriam echoed faintly.
‘My mother’s maiden name. She’s rather pleased with her famous name, I must say.’ He looked rueful. ‘But you’re more important to me than any old books, so if you don’t approve—’
‘I had no idea,’ Miriam whispered.
‘But we talked about it.’ Frank tilted his head to one side. ‘You made it clear enough you disapproved …’
Miriam felt herself blushing. ‘I thought you were a con man and a gigolo,’ she admitted quietly.
‘A gigolo?’ His mouth dropped open. For a moment he could only stare at her, his ocean-blue eyes wide. Then he started to laugh.
‘What was I supposed to think?’ Miriam tried to defend herself. ‘It was the only thing that made sense. You did say you offered women fantasy, an escape from their humdrum lives—’
‘So you immediately assumed I must be a gigolo, trying to get my hands on your fortune?’ Frank roared with laughter.
He laughed so much that Miriam felt the corners of her mouth twitching. ‘It’s not funny—’ she protested, but in the end she couldn’t help laughing too.
She was still laughing when Frank took her hands and pressed them to his lips. ‘You’re quite absurd, do you know that?’ he said, smiling fondly into her eyes.
‘At least I don’t pretend to be a woman called Agatha!’
‘That’s true.’ He sighed. ‘So will you forgive me for my dark deception, my love?’
‘I will,’ Miriam said happily. ‘On one condition.’
‘What’s that?’
‘You must never give up being Agatha Pendlebury. Your books bring happiness to so many women. Including me,’ she admitted shyly.
His brows rose. ‘So you do read them?’
‘I did,’ she said. But she knew she would never have to read another one. Not now she had her very own romantic hero. One she didn’t have to share with thousands of devoted readers.
‘Oh, my darling …’
She knew he was going to kiss her as his arms closed round her. But unlike the lovely, innocent Lavinia in Desert Heat, she had no intention of fighting him off …
‘Sister!’ Daisy Baker’s cry of alarm stopped them in their tracks seconds before his lips touched hers. The girl was standing at the other end of the passageway, her face full of panic. ‘Sister, you must come straight away. Mrs Goodwood’s gone into labour!’
Peggy
25th December 1945
‘Are you sure you cooked these potatoes properly? They’re like bullets.’
Peggy gazed down the length of the table to where her mother-in-law sat, stuffing her face.
‘I cooked them the same as always, Mother,’ she replied patiently.
‘Well, they don’t taste the same as always,’ Nellie Atkins replied through a mouthful of food.
That hasn’t stopped you eating them, Peggy thought, looking at Nellie’s bulging cheeks.
She looked around the table and stifled a sigh. She had so been looking forward to her first peacetime Christmas in years, but it wasn’t the merry day she had been hoping for.
No one else seemed to be enjoying it either. Pearl had been in a foul mood all day. She had planted herself on the couch with a box of butte
red brazils and refused to help out in the kitchen. Now she sat, her arms folded, staring at her untouched plate with a sour expression.
Peggy wished her sister would make more effort. Eric was already fed up with her. He had been nagging Peggy to convince her to move out ever since she gave up her job at the hospital a week earlier.
‘We don’t need her now you’re back in the shop,’ he had said. ‘And she never pulled her weight anyway.’
‘I thought you two were getting on like a house on fire?’ Peggy had said.
‘That ain’t the point,’ Eric mumbled. ‘The point is this is our home, and I’m sick and tired of having her hanging around. Tell her she’s got to go, Peg.’
Peggy had tried, but Pearl had refused point blank to move.
‘So your old man wants me out, does he?’ she had said. ‘Well, we’ll see about that. Let him tell me himself, if he wants me to go. And I’ll have a few things to say to him, too!’
Since then, neither of them had spoken to each other. They all sat in tense silence around the Christmas table. The only sounds were Charlie scraping his chair and Nellie chewing noisily on a chicken bone.
Peggy allowed her mind to drift back to the Nightingale. The children would be having their Christmas dinner soon, and even though they were away from their parents and in hospital, she knew it would be a much jollier affair than the dinner she was having. She could just imagine all the fun and laughter as they pulled their crackers and put on their party hats and dived into the pudding for the threepenny bit.
And then, of course, there was the visit from Father Christmas to look forward to. Peggy wished she could be there to see their little faces light up when he strode on to the ward with his sack of presents for them all …
Then she thought about Bill, and how nervous he would be feeling as he put on his red coat and beard. Would he be able to go through with it? If only she could have been there to give him a little pep talk …
Her mind veered away. She couldn’t allow herself to think about Bill, because then she would have to think about how much she missed him.
‘This meat’s very dry,’ Nellie commented, breaking into her reverie.
‘Sorry, Mother.’ Peggy sighed, waiting for Eric to defend her. But he sat at the far end of the table opposite her, chewing placidly on his vegetables.
She turned her attention to her sister, still with her untouched plate of food in front of her.
‘Aren’t you going to eat that?’ she asked.
‘I don’t fancy it. I’m a bit off my food, as a matter of fact.’
‘I’ll have it, if she don’t want it.’ Nellie reached across for her plate and scraped it on to her own. ‘Waste not, want not.’
Peggy barely noticed, she was too busy staring at her sister. ‘You do look a bit peaky,’ she said. ‘Are you sickening for something?’
‘You don’t catch what I’ve got.’
Peggy looked into her sister’s wretched, angry face and the truth dawned. ‘Oh Pearl, you ain’t—’
Pearl stared down at her now empty plate. ‘I reckon I might be,’ she muttered.
‘Oh, Pearl!’
‘What’s that?’ Nellie looked up sharply. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Pearl reckons she might be in the family way.’ Suddenly it all made sense. No wonder her sister had been in such a foul mood recently.
‘Oh, she is, is she?’ Nellie sounded ominous.
‘Is it Ralph’s?’ Peggy asked.
Pearl shook her head. ‘I’ve been seeing someone else.’
‘Well, that’s something, I s’pose.’ At least the kid wouldn’t have a jailbird for a father, Peggy thought. ‘Does he know you’re expecting?’
‘He does now,’ Pearl said.
Peggy frowned in confusion. ‘I don’t understand—’
Pearl looked at Eric. ‘Are you going to tell her, or shall I?’ she said.
Peggy turned to her husband. Eric had gone very still, all the colour draining from his face. ‘Eric? What do you know about this?’
‘You might well ask!’ Nellie retorted. ‘Bleeding hell, girl, I reckon you must be the only one who don’t know what’s been going on around here.’ She pointed her fork at Pearl. ‘That hussy of a sister of yours has been carrying on with my fool of a son right under your nose.’
‘Never!’ It was such a ridiculous idea, Peggy laughed. Eric laughed too, a little too high and a little too loud.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mother! I don’t know what you’re talking about, I really don’t.’
‘I’ve got eyes and ears,’ Nellie snapped back. ‘I know what’s going on, even if your own missus is too daft and trusting to guess. You think I ain’t heard what goes on in the back room of that shop? Stocktaking, indeed! I knew what the pair of you was up to. I’m surprised it ain’t halfway round Bethnal Green by now. Shameless, the pair of you.’ She turned her fork on Peggy. ‘Although you’re as much to blame as either of them. If you’d been where you should be, looking after your husband, this would never have happened.’
Peggy took no notice of her. All her attention was focused on her sister.
‘Is this true?’ she whispered.
Pearl looked straight back at her, unrepentant. ‘Yes, it’s true.’
‘Why?’
‘Terrible, ain’t it? And after the way you took her in and looked after her, too,’ Nellie chimed in. ‘It’s a shocking business, it really is. Mind, it was her set her cap at my son, with her lipstick and her nylons,’ she went on. ‘He can’t be blamed for any of this. He’s only a red-blooded man, after all.’
Eric shot to his feet. ‘It was all a mistake,’ he blurted out. ‘Mother’s right, she seduced me.’
‘Seduced you!’ Pearl looked scornful. ‘You weren’t exactly fighting me off, as I recall. You told me you loved me. You said I was the one you wanted, that you were going to leave her for me …’
‘Is this true?’ Peggy looked at Eric.
‘Men,’ Nellie dismissed. ‘They’d say anything in the heat of the moment.’ She shook her head, her jowls wobbling. ‘No, he’s been a fool, and that’s all there is to it. Now it’s up to him to put things right.’ She glared at Eric.
‘I’m trying, Mother. Give me a chance!’ Eric turned back to Peggy. ‘Like I said, it was a mistake. I was lonely. Mother’s right, it wouldn’t have happened if you’d been here.’
‘Don’t you blame her!’ Pearl snorted. ‘You should be thanking me for showing you the kind of man you married,’ she said to Peggy.
Peggy felt numb. It was as if she was floating above her body, watching the scene from on high. None of it was real, it was all too far-fetched.
And yet it was real.
‘Why?’ she whispered.
Pearl lifted her chin. ‘Because I could,’ she said. ‘And because I was sick of being beholden to you all the time. Do you know what it’s like to have to listen to you day in, day out, reminding me what a saint you are to take us in and give us a home?’
‘I never—’
‘And all the time, you’re telling me what to do, reminding me what a mess I’ve made of my life, just because I’ve made a few mistakes and I’m not as perfect as you,’ Pearl went on, ignoring her. ‘God, I can’t even find a boyfriend without you having to stick your oar in. Find a good man, you said. Someone steady and reliable, who’ll look after me. So that’s what I did.’ She gave her a nasty smile. ‘Bet you didn’t expect it would be your man, did you? So now you know what it feels like to be the odd one out, the one no one wants!’
Peggy stared at her, astonished by her vehemence. She had never realised how jealous her sister was, or how much resentment she harboured.
‘Take no notice of her,’ Eric said. ‘She means nothing to me. You’re the only woman for me, Peggy. You always have been, right from that day I found you sitting on that park bench. Do you remember that day?’ His eyes pleaded with her. ‘I said I’d look after you, didn’t I? I promised I’d give you a home, somew
here you could feel safe at last.’
‘You promised me that, too,’ Pearl reminded him in a hurt voice. But Eric ignored her.
‘I know I’ve been a fool, and I’m sorry for it. But we can get through this. We can put things right. We’ve got to, for the sake of our family. For Alan and Amy.’
‘And what about my baby?’ Pearl demanded.
‘We’ve only got your word for it that it’s Eric’s,’ Nellie muttered.
Pearl turned on her. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying we all know you’d drop your drawers for anyone. Blimey, if you’d go with your own sister’s husband, there’s no telling what else you’d do! There might not even be a baby,’ Nellie went on. ‘I wouldn’t put it past you to make the whole thing up, just to cause trouble.’
‘There’s a baby, all right. And it’s his.’ Pearl glared across the table at Eric.
Peggy listened to them all bickering among themselves. Not once had any of them bothered to ask her what she thought, or how she felt or what she wanted. It was all about them.
But then, it always had been, she thought. Everything in her life had been done for someone else. She had given up her school to look after Pearl, married Eric to provide a home for her sister. She had worked in the shop, brought up her children, made sacrifices and done her best for all of them.
And look how they had all repaid her.
Eric was speaking again, in that lofty voice he always used when he was making one of his pronouncements. ‘God knows, I’m not a man to walk away from my mistakes. If she is expecting—’
‘If,’ Nellie put in.
‘Then we’ll sort something out. Peggy will look after it. She loves kids, don’t you, Peg?
Pearl looked offended. ‘I ain’t having her look after my baby!’
‘Why not? She looks after your other one more than you do.’ Nellie glared at Charlie, who ploughed calmly through his Christmas dinner, oblivious to the storm raging around him.
‘You take that back! I’m a good mum.’
‘Good mum, my backside!’
The Nightingale Christmas Show Page 23
