by Ellie Dean
A kaleidoscope of emotions swept over Doris’s face and in her eyes before they hardened into resolve. ‘You should have warned me before this,’ she said coldly. ‘Just how long have you known?’
‘A couple of weeks,’ admitted Peggy. ‘And I would have said something if I’d thought you might believe me and not take it the wrong way.’ She wrung her hands. ‘I’m sorry, Doris, really I am, and if I’d known you’d brazen it out, I would have told you – but you didn’t ring or call in, and I thought you’d decided to stay at home and ignore my calls this morning.’
‘Your silence speaks volumes for your so-called family loyalty,’ snapped Doris.
‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ said Peggy fretfully. ‘And I did try to ring, honestly.’
‘It’s not good enough,’ Doris retorted, fastening her coat. ‘But then I shouldn’t be surprised at your lack of thought or decency. You’ve always been unbearably smug, Margaret, and so wrapped up in the rag-tag of what you laughingly call “family” it’s hardly surprising that you couldn’t care less about my situation.’
‘That’s not fair,’ gasped Peggy. ‘Of course I worry about you.’
‘Tell it to the marines,’ Doris said, her careful diction slipping in her fury. ‘You haven’t given me a thought while you play happy families and bang on about how wonderful everyone is, and how they regularly send letters and photographs and little parcels.’ She took a breath to steady herself. ‘Whereas I’m forced to share my home with two common evacuees, and have an absent husband, son and grandson who, it seems, couldn’t care less where I spend Christmas.’
Peggy was shocked by her outburst and deeply hurt at the realisation Doris was jealous – jealous of the warmth and love at Beach View, and the close ties of her family, even though most of them were far away. ‘Oh, Doris,’ she gasped, ‘you’ve got it all wrong – so very, very wrong.’
Doris rebuffed her attempts to embrace her. ‘Don’t let me keep you from your dubious celebrations,’ she said bitterly. ‘I’m sorry I interrupted.’
‘What’s going on out here?’ slurred Ron from the dining room doorway. He caught sight of Doris and grimaced. ‘Oh, I might have known it was you causing upset.’ He swayed towards her and grabbed her arm. ‘Come and stick that snooty nose of yours in a glass or three of gin. They’ll loosen your corsets and put a smile on that frosty face.’
She slapped his hand away. ‘I’ll thank you not to touch me, you disgusting old man,’ she snapped. ‘I’m leaving.’
‘Aye, ’t’would probably be best,’ he rumbled, glaring at her from beneath his wayward brows. ‘Just mind you don’t fall off that high horse along the way.’
‘Don’t take any notice of Ron,’ begged Peggy. ‘He’s had too much to drink. Please stay, Doris. I hate the thought of you being all alone.’
Doris ignored them both and opened the front door. She slammed it behind her without another word, and moments later they heard the car engine start up followed by a screech of tyres as she drove away at speed.
‘Good riddance to bad rubbish,’ slurred Ron, leaning against the newel post to steady himself. ‘Come on, Peggy, girl, don’t let her upset you.’
‘But I am upset, don’t you see?’ she replied through her tears, plumping down on the stairs. ‘She thinks I’m smug and selfish and don’t care about her – and she has a point. I should have warned her we knew about that blasted lunch.’
Ron’s heavy hand fell on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. ‘What’s done is done, Peggy, and however you’d gone about things she’d have found fault.’ He fumbled in his trouser pocket and pulled out a crumpled and none-too-clean handkerchief. ‘Dry your eyes, me darlin’, and know that you’re loved and treasured by all of us.’
Peggy found her own clean handkerchief and mopped up the tears. ‘I know I am,’ she replied raggedly. She looked up at him as he swayed on his feet and breathed alcoholic fumes all over her. ‘But am I really guilty of being smug and self-centred, Ron?’
He pulled her to her feet and flung his arms about her. ‘You’re the kindest, biggest-hearted woman I know,’ he said against the top of her head. ‘Take no notice of your sister.’
Peggy drew back from the embrace before Ron lost his balance and had them both in a heap on the floor. ‘I think you’d better sit down before you fall down,’ she said, giving him a watery smile.
‘Aye, I’m thinking the same,’ he muttered, staggering back into the dining room to collapse into a chair.
Peggy glanced at the packages Doris had left behind and didn’t have the heart to share them out. It wouldn’t feel right after that exchange, and whatever Doris had wrapped in that pretty paper had probably not been purchased with love and care, but with the sole purpose of showing how well off she was.
She stood in the doorway of the shabby dining room which had been so lovingly decorated, her heart full of love for all the people in it. And because she knew they loved her back, she felt truly blessed.
But her sister’s accusation had cut her to the quick, the diatribe revealing the deep-seated jealousy Doris had been harbouring despite the fact she had all the material things Peggy could only dream about. How sad it was that Doris couldn’t see a way to change her life around – to stop being snobbish and cutting, and to find it in her heart to forgive her husband’s lapse, and her son’s choice of wife. If only she could open her mind to what really mattered, and just accept that no one was perfect, she’d have her own family around her and not be alone on this special day.
Peggy vowed then and there that she would do her very best to heal the breach between them. It would be an uphill struggle, and Doris wouldn’t thank her for it, but if she didn’t at least try to make her see how good life could be if only she stopped to think what she was doing, she’d be failing her.
24
London
Dolly had returned from Bletchley on Christmas Eve, having waited with Marie-Claire Rousseau at the isolated landing strip to wish her good luck and Godspeed before she was parachuted back into France. Dolly had worked with her before – in fact she’d been the one to interview her when she’d come to London back in 1940 on the strong recommendation of a mutual friend – and because she reminded her of herself at that age, had taken her under her wing. Their relationship had blossomed over the years despite the fact they rarely saw one another, and Dolly fretted every time she flew out.
And yet the young girl who’d come to her so full of hatred and thirsting for revenge against the Nazis who’d murdered her family back in Poland was now a cool, organised and very experienced undercover agent – and if she felt any fear, she didn’t show it. Yet Dolly knew the SOE had lost too many operatives, and that their life expectancy was cruelly short. Marie-Claire must surely now be on borrowed time.
Dolly hadn’t slept well even though she was very tired. With her thoughts in a tangle over her daughters, the situation in Slapton and Marie-Claire, it really didn’t feel much like Christmas and she was in no mood to attend the grand luncheon at the American Embassy. But Hugh had insisted it was important to mingle and make new contacts, and as he’d promised Felix would still be busy down in Devon, she’d really had no choice.
She sat at her dressing table, the gloomy light from the grey sky above London barely penetrating the heavily taped window. ‘The show must go on,’ she sighed, noting the fine lines around her eyes and mouth that spoke of her weariness. And then she straightened her back and lifted her chin to meet her gaze in the mirror. ‘Buck up, Dolly,’ she said sternly. ‘If they want a show, then you must give them one. You can sleep tomorrow.’
Having poured a glass of champagne and taken a reviving slug, she spent the next hour getting ready, her thoughts continuously returning to her encounter with Felix. Because of Carol, he clearly thought she’d married again and was content – and as long as he kept his promise to stay away from Carol, he’d never discover the truth. Yet the hurt remained that she’d been so cold with him, and if only things had been dif
ferent she might have …
She impatiently set aside this thought and continued to prepare for the day, determined to make the best of things. She was dressed and ready when she heard the sound of a car horn. Looking out of the window down into the street, she saw Hugh waving to her from the pavement. She waved back and took one last assessing look at herself in the cheval mirror.
The pale green silk dress followed her curves to perfection, and was short enough to show off her slim legs and ankles which were encased in nylon stockings – a gift from an admirer she’d discarded the moment she’d returned from Slapton. Pearls gleamed at her throat and in her ears, and the darling little hat she’d found in Harrods sat coquettishly at an angle, the delicate netting over her eyes giving them a hint of mystery – as well as hiding those annoying tell-tale lines.
Dolly grinned at her reflection, finished a second glass of champagne without smudging her lipstick, and slipped on her high-heeled shoes and mink coat. Gathering up handbag and gloves, she checked she had her cigarette case, lipstick and handkerchief, and went down to meet a rather impatient Hugh.
‘You’re frightfully late, darling,’ he murmured, kissing the air by her cheek to avoid knocking her hat. ‘But as usual the wait was worth it. You look quite magnificent.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied, taking in the bespoke grey suit, the dazzling white shirt and silk tie. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself. New suit?’
He nodded and ushered her into the car, then got behind the steering wheel. ‘There’s a little something for you in the glove compartment,’ he said, carefully easing the Rolls-Royce away from the apartment block and proceeding along the road at a snail’s pace which always made Dolly want to grab the wheel and take over.
‘Oh, Hugh, you shouldn’t have,’ she said, eagerly undoing the wrapping and giving a little cry of pleasure at the sight of an exquisite bottle of her favourite French perfume. She dabbed some on her neck and wrists and then leaned across to kiss his fragrant, smooth cheek. ‘I love it, but now I feel very guilty, because I haven’t got you anything.’
‘You’ve been busy doing other, far more important things,’ he replied as they slowly approached the embassy. ‘And I don’t expect anything from you but undivided loyalty and a lifetime of absolute devotion,’ he added with a teasing wink.
‘Silly boy,’ she giggled, tapping his knee. ‘I’ll go to Jermyn Street and buy you a silk cravat,’ she said firmly. ‘One that will go with that gorgeous velvet smoking jacket you wear for evenings at home.’
Conversation was halted by the heavily armed guards at the gate who asked to see their invitations and identity cards before they let them through into the vast parking area at the back of the grand building. Hugh took his time to reverse the Rolls into a space, and then hurried round to open the door for Dolly and hand her out.
‘They’ve invited half of London,’ she said, regarding the number of embassy and military cars and the long line of private limousines now arriving. She looked up at Hugh. ‘Are you absolutely positive Felix is down in Devon?’
‘That’s what I was told,’ he replied, checking his appearance in the wing mirror. He looked at her quizzically. ‘Would it really matter if he wasn’t? After all, your affair ended years ago – and you’re usually very relaxed about bumping into past amours.’
‘Felix is different,’ she replied. She saw his eyes brighten and tugged his arm. ‘Curiosity killed the cat, Hugh. I’m saying no more. Now do get a move on, it’s freezing out here.’
They greeted their hosts and, having left her fur with the cloakroom attendant, Dolly joined Hugh again and followed the other guests into the reception salon. It was dazzling with light from four vast chandeliers, which was reflected in the gold ormolu around the many mirrors and in the cut crystal of the champagne glasses. Stewards dressed in white jackets and black trousers were on hand to see that no one went thirsty, and although there was a string quartet playing somewhere close by, they could barely be heard above the loud laughter and chatter of at least a hundred people.
Dolly loved occasions like this – loved the noise, the crush, the different scents of perfumes, colognes and expensive cigars, and the chance to see what the latest fashions were, who was talking to whom, and eavesdropping on delicious snippets of scandal. She took a sip of the icy champagne and looked up at the enormous, over-dressed tree which was simply smothered in fairy lights, tinsel and glass baubles.
‘The Americans don’t do subtle, do they?’
Hugh chuckled. ‘It’s Christmas and there’s nothing subtle about tinsel and paper chains, so stop being catty and come and mingle.’
Dolly took his arm and they drifted from group to group, reacquainting themselves with old friends and making new ones. The diplomats were here in great numbers, as were Members of Parliament, the Home and Foreign Offices and the higher echelons of all the Allied forces. Dolly wasn’t all that surprised to see them, for having moved in such circles for most of her adult life, she knew that such men always took time out for a party. But she also knew that a lot of them would be burning the midnight oil after everyone else was in bed, for with the Allied landings in France now arranged for late spring, the war was rapidly moving towards what everyone hoped would be the end.
By the time luncheon was announced everyone was a little tipsy, and as the mass of people slowly moved towards the vast banqueting hall, Dolly realised she needed to go to the powder room to freshen up. ‘I’ll meet you in there,’ she murmured to Hugh, before hurrying away.
She emerged from the luxuriously appointed ladies’ room having checked her make-up and dabbed some more perfume on her wrists and behind her ears. Feeling the buzz of champagne and eager now for her lunch, she headed for the crowd still filtering into the banqueting hall.
A hand encircled her slim arm and she looked up with a smile, expecting to see Hugh. The smile fell away instantly to be replaced by a stab of shock as she found herself staring into those all-too-familiar blue eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’ she rasped. ‘You’re supposed to be in Devon.’
Felix’s grip tightened on her arm. ‘We need to talk, Dolly.’
A frisson of fear shot through her. ‘Let go of my arm, or I shall make a fuss,’ she hissed.
‘Not here you won’t,’ he replied, knowing her too well. ‘I’ll let go once you’ve heard what I have to say.’
‘We’ve both said more than enough,’ she said, her pulse racing as he drew her out of the crush and towards an open door which she soon discovered led into a small sitting room. ‘What is it you want from me, Felix?’ she asked as he closed the door behind him.
She took a step back when he advanced on her with that old familiar look in his eyes. Warding him off with her hands, she kept going back until she found herself wedged against a heavy desk. ‘Don’t do this, Felix. Please.’
He was standing too close. She could detect the scent of his shaving cream, and was all too aware of his dangerous masculinity as he towered over her and trapped her with his penetrating gaze. Her heart was hammering and she could barely breathe, a part of her longing for him to sweep her into his arms and kiss her senseless, and yet the little voice of reason warning where it would inevitably lead.
His gaze was hungry, but he made no move towards her. ‘I have to be back in Devon by nightfall,’ he said, his voice deep and roughened by his emotions. ‘So this won’t take long.’
She looked up at him, the yearning for him drenched by a cold wash of dread as his expression became serious. Was he about to unmask her for the liar she’d been forced to become? Like a rabbit caught in the glare of a poacher’s lantern, she stared up at him as he explained why he’d come and what he wanted from her – and because of her fear, she barely managed to absorb what he was saying. And yet, when his words finally sank in they were far more shocking than anything she could have expected.
A short while later a devastated Dolly watched him close the door quietly behind him and then almost fell
into a chair as her legs refused to support her. Closing her eyes, their exchange rang in her head, the memory of his kiss and his expressive face haunting her until she could no longer bear it.
She fought with all her might to overcome the storm of emotions that swept through her, and eventually emerged from the room intent upon making her escape. But Hugh had come looking for her, and she had to force a smile and pretend that her world hadn’t just been shattered into a million pieces.
PART TWO
JANUARY 1944
25
Cliffehaven
It was barely mid-morning when Peggy finished hanging out the washing, her hands reddened and painful from boiling hot water, the strong carbolic soap Ron had managed to get hold of on the black market, and a bitter wind which carried the threat of yet another bleak day. The new year was a mere few days old, but the appalling weather had continued since October, with little sign of improving – and like this seemingly endless war, the winter was going on for too long.
She eyed the bedlinen which was flapping and snapping in the knifing wind, knowing that by the time she returned from the dreaded meeting with her sister, they’d be as stiff as boards and still damp, which meant she’d have to hang them on the suspended drier in the scullery where they’d drip disconsolately on her clean floor and lose that lovely fresh outdoor smell. Fed up with it all, she hoisted the empty basket onto her hip, closed the back door on the horrid day and trudged upstairs to the kitchen.
‘At least it’s lovely and warm in here,’ she said to Cordelia, who was busy mashing some boiled parsnips in a bowl while Daisy tried to persuade a most reluctant Queenie that she really did want to sit in the small wooden trolley.
Peggy rescued the cat, then noticed that Cordelia was wearing fingerless gloves. ‘I hope the bitter cold isn’t affecting your arthritis too badly, Cordelia.’
