Counting Chimneys: A novel of love, heartbreak and romance in 1960s Brighton (Brighton Girls Trilogy Book 2)

by Sandy Taylor

‘Where's Peggy gone?’

  ‘To her room. This isn’t her, you know. I’ve never known her to be rude like that. I don’t know what I can do about it,’ he said sadly.

  ‘Maybe we can get her excited about moving to a new place. We all need to be together. She’ll come round,’ I said, but I think I was trying to convince Ralph of this more than myself.

  ‘You’re right – a new place, a new start. She can’t stay cross forever… can she?’

  ‘We have to make sure she doesn’t.’

  ‘So how did you get on?’ he said, sitting me down on the couch. ‘I want to know everything.’

  ‘I got it.’

  ‘I told you, you would, my clever girl.’

  ‘It’s nine to five and some evenings, but that’s just for book launches. Tom says all I have to do is pour the wine and look jolly.’

  ‘You can do jolly,’ said Ralph, smiling.

  ‘I really liked it there. My boss is called Tom Brown and he’s lovely.’

  ‘Not too lovely I hope.’

  ‘Jealous?’ I asked, teasing.

  ‘Should I be?’

  ‘Never.’ I looked into his eyes. ‘Never as long as you live.’

  I snuggled into him. I loved the familiar smell of him and how safe I felt in his arms. I was where I belonged, and the road ahead of us was at last the road we were meant to be on. We were going to be a family, and I knew that Ralph was going to love and protect us forever.

  I looked up at him. ‘So where should we look for this flat then? Any preferences?’

  ‘Well it needs to be round here, because Peggy will be starting school in September. I’ve got her name down for Whitehawk Juniors.’

  ‘Our old school?’

  ‘It’s the closest one to the estate. So we need to find a flat nearby.’

  I didn’t want to live on the estate again. If we were going to start afresh then it had to be somewhere else, somewhere completely different.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ralph, but I don’t want to live back here.’

  ‘We don’t have to, just somewhere close to the school.’

  ‘There must be other schools.’

  ‘Of course there are, but Peggy’s made friends round here and they will all be going together.’

  I wanted Peggy to be happy, but Ralph wasn’t considering what I might want.

  ‘I’d like to be close to my new job,’ I said. I knew that I was being awkward, but I didn’t care. I wanted Ralph to consider my needs as well as Peggy’s. ‘I was thinking Perhaps Kemp Town.’

  Ralph looked disappointed. ‘I have to think of Peggy. There’ve been enough changes in her life lately. If a simple thing like going to school with her friends will make her happy, then that’s what I must do for her. I know Peggy’s not your child, Dottie, and I can’t expect you to feel the same way about her that I do, but if we’re going to be a family then you will have to accept that I must consider her needs.’

  I stood up and walked across to the window and stared down at the quadrangle below. I felt angry suddenly, but I didn’t know who I was angry with. Ralph? Peggy? Myself? We had gone through so much – it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

  I felt Ralph's arms around me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered.

  I leaned against him. ‘So am I.’

  He turned me round so that I was facing him. ‘I’m asking too much of you, aren’t I?’

  ‘I just want you to consider what I want as well,’ I said. ‘I don’t want Peggy to be unhappy, but we have to make decisions together. I feel as if you and Peggy are a team, and I’ve been left on the benches.’

  ‘Is that what I’m doing?’

  ‘Pretty much.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘There are other schools, Ralph, and Peggy will make new friends. It’s not the end of the world. She was going to have to make new friends in Australia, wasn’t she? Why is this so different?’

  ‘You’re right – of course you’re right. It’s just that when Mary died, I got the feeling that no one thought that I could be a good father. I wasn’t even sure myself that I was up to the job. For a long time I relied on my mum and Mary’s mum, then I realised that I was Peggy’s father and the responsibility of bringing her up was down to me and no one else. Okay, I’ve made mistakes along the way, but I’ve done the best I can, and now I’ve made her unhappy, but you’re right, there are other schools, and she will make new friends. I promise that I won’t make you feel like an outsider again. We’ll find a flat. We’ll make it work.’

  ‘That’s all I need to know.’

  Ralph took my hand and led me into Peggy’s bedroom. The cot was no longer there. In its place was a little bed, covered by a yellow candlewick bedspread. There was a shelf above it holding books and there was a doll’s house on the floor.

  ‘Time for bed, little lady,’ said Ralph, smiling at the little girl.

  Peggy hadn’t even looked at me.

  ‘Read me a story, Daddy,’ she said, standing on the bed and taking a book from the shelf. She handed it to him. ‘It’s the one about the shoemaker and the little elves that come in the night and mend all the shoes.’

  ‘Good choice,’ said Ralph.

  I loved how gentle he was with her. I loved that he was such a good dad.

  ‘How about, as a very special treat, Dottie reads you a story?’

  ‘No, I want you to read to me.’

  ‘I’d love to read to you, Peggy,’ I said gently.

  She glared at me. ‘Well I don’t want you to.’

  ‘Peggy,’ said Ralph. ‘That was very rude. Say sorry to Dottie.’

  ‘Won’t, won’t, won’t,’ she screamed, and then threw the book across the room. Tears were streaming down her face. ‘I don't like her,’ she mumbled.

  I could see that Ralph didn’t know what to do.

  ‘I’ll go,’ I said sadly.

  ‘You don’t have to go.’

  ‘I know.’

  Ralph walked me to the door and held me close. ‘It will get better love.’

  I nodded.

  ‘She just needs time.’

  I kissed him goodbye and walked down the steps. My legs felt shaky. I was shocked at how angry Peggy had become. If she got that upset at the thought of me reading to her, how was she going to feel about living with me?

  I walked home slowly. There was a soft misty drizzle, the kind that soaks you to the skin, but it was just what I needed to cool me down.

  When I’d left London, my job and Polly, it had seemed like I was the heroine in a Jane Austen novel, where the girl always gets the boy and they live happily ever after. Ralph would sweep me off my feet, which he sort of did on Brighton station, and then we would walk off into the sunset. The reality was that I went back home to Mum and Dad, and Ralph went home to Peggy. I had to gain Peggy’s trust – it was the only way forward. I needed to do it for me, for Ralph and for Mary. I didn’t want to let Mary down. Peggy had been her little girl. She had never asked me to look after her, but I guess that was because she had no doubt that I would. But I wasn’t looking after her, was I? I couldn’t – she wasn’t letting me.

  When I got back home Mum was in the front room with Aunty Brenda. They were listening to Nat King Cole singing ‘A Certain Smile’. I’d always loved that song

  ‘You’re soaked,’ said Aunty Brenda.

  Mum went into the kitchen and came back with a towel. ‘Dry your hair, love.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’

  ‘I thought you were spending the evening with Ralph.’

  I sat down and started rubbing at my hair. ‘So did I.’

  Mum got up and turned down the volume on the radiogram.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Peggy happened.’

  ‘Not getting any better then?’ asked Mum.

  ‘I’d say that it’s probably getting worse, and I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘What does Ralph say?’

  ‘He doesn’t know what to do about it either.’ />
  ‘That child’s coming between you two,’ said Aunty Brenda. ‘And that’s not right.’

  I happened to agree with her, but I was trying to stay positive.

  ‘We’re going to find somewhere else to live. Somewhere we both like and hopefully Peggy likes as well.’

  ‘That sounds like a good idea,’ said Mum.

  ‘Well, you’ll have to get married first,’ said Aunty Brenda.

  ‘No, they won’t,’ said Mum.

  Aunty Brenda looked shocked. ‘You’re never going to let your Dottie live in sin are you?’

  ‘I don’t care if she lives in Eastbourne as long as she’s happy, Brenda.’

  Which made us all fall about laughing.

  Dad poked his head around the kitchen door. ‘What’s the joke?’

  ‘We were just talking about your Dottie living in sin,’ said Aunty Brenda.

  ‘Over my dead body,’ said Dad.

  ‘It can be arranged,’ said Mum, wiping her eyes.

  ‘Don’t I have any say in what happens in this family?’ asked Dad.

  ‘Probably not,’ said Mum, winking at me.

  ‘Well as long as I know,’ said Dad, going back into the kitchen.

  ‘Would you really not mind, Mum?’

  ‘Marriage isn’t something you rush into, Dottie. I know you love Ralph, but you have to sort this Peggy thing out first, and if that means living together, then that’s what you must do. We never had the option in my day, did we, Brenda?’

  ‘Heavens no, we just had to take a chance and hope it worked out.’

  With that I burst out crying.

  ‘Brenda, cup of tea, best china, plenty of sugar,’ said Mum.

  Aunty Brenda rushed into the kitchen and started rattling cups and saucers.

  ‘Your Aunty Brenda never changes,’ said Mum.

  ‘I’m glad,’ I said, smiling at her.

  We sat and held hands and Mum dried my tears just as she had when I was a child.

  Aunty Brenda put the tea down on the table.

  ‘I’ve put four sugars in, Maureen.’

  ‘That should do it,’ said Mum.

  Mum and Aunty Brenda swore by the medicinal effects of sweet tea for shock. I didn’t have the heart to remind Mum that I had given up, and so I sipped the syrupy concoction and tried not to make a face.

  Aunty Brenda was leaning forward in her chair, intent on hearing every word I had to say.

  I looked at those two, strong, funny, wise women, who had lived through a war and lost people they had loved and who rarely complained about anything. Would they have got in a twist because a five-year-old child scowled at them? No, they were too busy making the best of what life had given them. I smiled at them both. ‘Have I ever told you how much you both mean to me?’ I asked.

  Aunty Brenda’s eyes filled with tears and Mum started searching for her bag of knitting.

  27

  I set about trying to find somewhere for us to live. Ralph was working during the day, so I was going to have to do it on my own, but I didn’t mind – in fact I was quite excited. If we could find the right place, then maybe Peggy could get excited about it too.

  Dad got the Evening Argus newspaper so every day I scoured the ‘flats to let’ listings. I wanted to find somewhere close to my job, so I circled any flats that were near to Kemp Town.

  Mum and Dad still didn’t have a phone, so I had to go down to the phone box every time I found one that I liked the sound of, but they were either too expensive or they didn’t want children. I did see a couple that sounded okay but they turned out to be awful. I liked the look of a flat in Hove, the next town along, and although it was a bit far away, there were plenty of buses that could get me to work. It was described as a two-bedroomed flat with facilities, whatever that meant. I got the train to Portslade station. Halliburton Road was a two-minute walk away. It was a semi-detached thirties house with a beautiful bay window, but that was the only beautiful thing about it. The wooden gate was hanging off its hinges, and the front garden was so overgrown that I could barely walk up the path. The net curtains hanging at the windows looked grubby.

  I couldn’t see a bell so I knocked on the door. Immediately a dog began to bark and a woman started yelling at it. I was beginning to regret being there and actually started to walk back down the path when the door opened. The smell that wafted from the house nearly knocked me over – I certainly wasn’t going inside. The woman was grubby and so was the dog. She was hanging onto its lead, and it was straining to get to me.

  ‘Tell me what you want and be quick about it. Get down!’ she screamed at the dog.

  I said the first thing that came into my head. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if you were going to vote Labour this year?’

  ‘Piss off!’ she screamed and slammed the door, nearly decapitating the poor dog in the process.

  I hurried away from the house as fast as I could, still wondering what ‘with facilities’ meant.

  I thought flat hunting would be fun, but it was turning out to be a nightmare. I wasn’t going to give up though – there had to be somewhere out there that was right for us.

  I got off the bus close to the estate and began to walk home. I was just about to pass our local shop when I noticed that there was a board in the window advertising stuff for sale. The shop was run by Mr Orme, who had known me all my life – Mary and I used to get our penny sweets there. There were a few adverts for jobs, a couple of cars for sale and there, between ‘blue baby’s cot’ – which made me smile, because blue babies are pretty rare – and ‘large rabbit hutch’, was a flat to let. I went into the shop.

  ‘I heard you were home, Dottie,’ said Mr Orme, smiling at me. ‘Had enough of London have you?’

  ‘Something like that, Mr Orme.’

  ‘Still, it must be nice being back with your mum and dad.’

  ‘It is, but I’m looking for a flat to move into. I noticed there’s a flat to let in your window.’

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s have a look,’ he said, coming out from behind the counter and going outside.

  ‘I’d forgotten that was there. I should have taken it out.’

  I must have looked disappointed.

  ‘Well I suppose it might still be available. It was ages ago that I put it in there. Hang on and I’ll get the card out for you.’

  I looked at the postcard. ‘Where’s Oriental Place?’ I asked.

  Mr Orme shook his head. ‘Well, it’s not round here for a start.’

  ‘Can I take it?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  ‘Take care now, Dottie, lovely to see you home again.’

  ‘Nice to see you too, Mr Orme.’

  I usually avoided going past Mary’s house, but I must have been preoccupied about the flat, and I was suddenly outside it. Oh how I wished I could turn back the clock. How I longed to open the door and run up those stairs and into Mary’s bedroom. I looked up at her window. ‘I miss you, Mary,’ I whispered.

  When I got round to my house, Mum was weeding the front garden. ‘Any good, love?’

  ‘Worst one yet,’ I said, making a face. ‘It was like The Blob meets Hound of the Baskervilles.’

  ‘Who would have thought it was going to be so difficult to find somewhere to live,’ she said, standing up and rubbing the small of her back.

  ‘Are you all right?’ I asked, concerned.

  ‘Old age, Dottie, it comes to us all.’

  It scared me when Mum said things like that. I didn’t like to think that she was getting old.

  ‘Don’t look like that,’ she said. ‘I’m fine really, just a few aches and pains, nothing for you to get worried about.’

  ‘You will tell me, won’t you? If you’re not feeling well?’

  ‘I promise.'

  ‘I found a flat to let, advertised in Mr Orme’s window.’

  ‘Round here?�
��

  ‘I don’t think so. I’ve never heard of the place.’ I handed her the card.

  ‘Fifty-five Oriental Place,’ she said. ‘No, it’s definitely not round here, I would have heard of it. Clark’s indoors. Maybe he knows where it is.’

  I followed Mum into the kitchen. Clark was eating toast, a newspaper spread out on the table in front of him. I showed him the advertisement.

  ‘It’s down on the seafront, near the Palace Pier,’ he said, looking at the card. ‘There was a fire there a few months ago. I was sent out to take a few photos.’

  ‘Well I hope the fire wasn’t at number fifty-five.’

  ‘I can’t remember.’

  ‘Is it all right though?’

  ‘Not bad, beautiful houses, gone to seed a bit but still pretty impressive, and the sea is just across the road.’

  ‘Will you look at it then, love?’

  ‘Well it’s worth a go. It can’t be any worse than I’ve already seen.’

  ‘Are you going to give them a ring?’ asked Mum.

  I looked at the card again. ‘There’s no phone number. I’ll just have to take a chance that there’s someone in.’

  Mr Orme had said that the card had been in the window a long time, so the odds were that it had already gone, but I had a good feeling about it. It was too late now, but I would go tomorrow. I definitely would.

  28

  Oriental Place was just off the seafront, like Clark had said. Tall Regency houses flanked both sides of the street. They all looked to be about four storeys high, with stones steps leading up to the front doors. The houses must have been beautiful once, but now they looked sad and neglected. Number fifty-five was no better. Black paint was peeling off the door and an old pushbike was leaning against the railings that led down into the basement. I guessed that long ago this would have been the servants’ quarters.

  I walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. Nothing happened. I could hear it echo in the hallway, but no one came, and I could hear no movement from inside. Suddenly a window right beside me opened and a woman’s head appeared. The head was topped with a frizzy mass of bright orange hair. She peered at me through large round glasses.

  ‘Yes?’ she said.

  ‘I’ve come about the flat.’