by Ellie Dean
Tommy had just been released from his latest spell in prison, and because he suffered from mild asthma had managed to evade being sent straight into the army as other prisoners were. He was out on probation, the terms of which meant he had to have a permanent address and must report for warden and fire-watch duties each day. His ex-wife and two children would have nothing to do with him, so he’d played on Rosie’s rather misguided sense of family loyalty and was now ensconced at the Anchor for at least six months.
Peggy knew that Ron had already been to the Anchor to warn Tommy to keep his hands to himself and not bother any of the girls who came into the pub – and had even told Rosie about how her brother had tried to pick Mary up the night he’d arrived back in Cliffehaven from prison. According to Ron, Rosie had been furious, and had told her brother straight that if he didn’t behave, he’d be out on his ear. Knowing Tommy’s preference for a comfortable, easy life, Peggy suspected he would toe the line. Even so, Mary needed her support tonight, and she mustn’t let her down.
Stubbing out her cigarette, she turned off the light and went back to her bedroom. Mary had stayed overnight because she was billeted with Peggy’s sister, Doris, who lived on the far side of town and it wouldn’t have been wise to let her walk home alone in the dark. Cliffehaven was usually a quiet little town, but since the arrival of the allied troops – and Tommy Findlay – it could be a little daunting late at night for anyone as nervous and young as Mary.
She glanced at the bedside clock and realised everyone would be getting up in less than four hours to have breakfast and go to work. She had done enough thinking and her poor head was aching with it, so she climbed back into the empty, tousled bed and pulled the covers up over her shoulders.
It still felt strange not to have Jim’s long, strong body curled around her, and she missed him most in these lonely hours. Yet her weariness finally overcame any such sadness and within seconds she was fast asleep.
Mary woke and turned over in the narrow single bed, wondering for a moment where she was. Then she remembered she was at Beach View, and that she had a longer walk to the Kodak factory from here than she had from her billet in Havelock Road. She rolled onto her back and stretched, listening to the sounds of the waking house.
The light patter of footsteps running down the stairs was probably Jane, who began work at the dairy very early so she could groom and feed the Shires before starting her milk round. Mary liked Jane, for she was a sweet, rather innocent girl, who worked hard not only at the dairy, but as a part-time book-keeper at the uniform factory. She was very close to her older sister, Sarah, who’d joined the Women’s Timber Corps and spent her days in the Corps office on the Cliffe estate – but that was hardly surprising, as they were far from their home in Malaya, their mother was living in Australia with their baby brother, and there was still no news of their father or Sarah’s fiancé, Philip, after the devastating fall of Singapore to the Japanese.
Mary didn’t envy their situation at all and couldn’t imagine how they managed to cope with the dreadful uncertainties. But she did envy their living here at Beach View, and in a way she regretted turning down Peggy’s offer of a permanent room. Peggy reminded her of Barbara Boniface, who’d taken her in after the rectory and church had taken a direct hit during a bombing raid and both her parents had been killed. Both women were motherly and warm and always ready to listen and give sensible advice, and Mary counted herself very blessed to have had such sterling support during her darkest hours.
The girls were terrific company too, and dear little Cordelia Finch was like the grandmother she’d never had. And yet her billet with Peggy’s sister Doris was very comfortable and she’d become friends with Ivy, the Cockney girl with whom she shared a room – and although she and Ivy had come from very different backgrounds, they’d got on immediately. Probably because Doris was so bossy and snobbish that they had a common battle to fight and shared the same sense of humour. There had been a lot of giggling over the past week, and her spirits had been lightened considerably.
Mary yawned and slowly sat up. She ran her fingers through her long dark hair and thought how strange it was that she’d become so settled in Cliffehaven after such a short time. She’d left her village in Sussex only a week ago, but so much had happened in those few days that it felt as if she’d been here for much longer.
She drew back the blackout curtains and looked down through the taping on the window into the garden at the rear of Beach View. Long and narrow, it had been turned into a vegetable patch, and even the turf on top of the gloomy Anderson shelter was sprouting with winter seedlings. A washing line hung forlornly across the path that led to the gate and flint wall, and from up here she could see straight across the twitten into the back gardens and windows of the terraced houses opposite. It was a far cry from the rambling grounds and woods that had surrounded the rather isolated rectory.
The memory of what had happened on the night of her eighteenth birthday chilled her and she pulled on her dressing gown. Her parents’ deaths had left her not only bereft of home and family, but of everything she had ever believed about herself. The discovery of her father’s diaries and the document hidden within them had revealed that she wasn’t Gideon and Emmaline’s daughter at all, but the illegitimate and unwanted product of a seedy affair between the married Cyril Fielding and some girl he’d met during his rounds as a travelling salesman.
The gentle Reverend Gideon Jones had taken her in and loved and cared for her, but Emmaline’s puzzling coldness towards her had finally been explained, and Mary could understand now how difficult it must have been for a proud, self-centred woman to take on the responsibility of such a child. Yet, despite the fact there had been little affection between them, there was still a part of Mary which mourned the fact they could never talk again or make peace with one another – and it was this sense of things being unfinished between them that was the hardest to bear.
It had been that document and those diary entries that had brought Mary to Cliffehaven in search of answers, and although she’d suspected there could only be disappointment ahead, she hadn’t been prepared for how swiftly her search for Cyril Fielding was concluded – or how devastating the truth had been.
Dear Peggy, she’d done her best to soften the blow, but there was no escaping the fact that her real father, Cyril, was a cheap crook, a liar and a thief who’d spent time in prison and didn’t think twice about living off the different women who’d fallen for his dubious charms. As for her mother, there was no news at all, and as she’d abandoned Mary within days of her birth and effectively disappeared, Mary could only conclude that she must have been very young and not willing to tie herself down to motherhood – or Cyril.
Mary shivered and drew the belt of her dressing gown more tightly round her narrow waist. She’d had a lucky escape, for although Emmaline had found it impossible to be a loving mother, she and Gideon had given her a home, an education and a firm basis for an honest, fulfilling life. How different it might have been for her if Cyril had not done that one decent thing in his disreputable career.
Her hand strayed to the long gold chain that hung from her neck, and she carefully drew the gold locket out and nestled it in the palm of her hand. Barbara’s son, Jack Boniface, had given it to her on her birthday just before he’d left on the troop train, and she would treasure it always. His letters of love and support had bolstered her spirits during those dark days of anguished loss, and his parents, Barbara and Joseph, had gladly taken her in and given her the affection and warmth she’d needed so badly. They were her family now, and when Jack returned from the war, they would marry and move into one of the farm cottages so that Jack could begin to take over from his father.
She sighed and tucked the locket away. There seemed to be no end to this terrible war, and it could be months, if not years, before they saw their dreams realised. All she could do now was continue with her job of sorting through the airgraphs at the Kodak factory, save as much money as she
could, and make the best of things until it was time to take up her place at the teaching college in Lewes.
She had to admit that she was quietly revelling in her independence after a lifetime of being carefully guarded against the world beyond the rectory walls – and although Gideon and Emmaline would definitely have disapproved of her playing the piano in a public house, she saw no harm in it, and thoroughly enjoyed entertaining the servicemen and women who could forget their responsibilities for a few hours and sing their hearts out.
She tensed at the thought of having to face that horrid Tommy Findlay this evening. He’d tried to pick her up as she’d been walking from the factory in the gloom of a wintry afternoon, and the episode had given her quite a scare – to the point where she’d actually hidden from him down an alleyway when she’d seen him again last night talking to that woman, Eileen. But Peggy had assured her he’d been warned by Ron and Rosie to be on his best behaviour and never to approach her again, so she had to believe she was safe from any further incidents.
She squared her shoulders, opened the door and headed to the bathroom. She was eighteen, earning her own living and, come next September, would be starting her teacher training course. It was time she toughened up and became more like her new friend Ivy, who was more than capable of dealing with unwelcome advances and the rigours of life. Ivy might have come from Hackney and been exposed to such things from very early on, but there were lessons to be learned from her, and Mary knew instinctively that it would be wise to follow her example if she was to survive this new and rather exciting life.
Mary finished preparing for the day and carried her overnight bag down the stairs. Leaving it in the hall with her overcoat and gas-mask box, she went into the kitchen to discover that she was the last one down.
Suzy and Fran were in their nurses’ uniforms and preparing to leave for Cliffehaven General as Sarah reached for her heavy overcoat to wear over the green sweater and khaki jodhpurs of the Women’s Timber Corps. Ron was surreptitiously feeding Harvey bits of toast, while Rita drank the last of her tea and dragged on the Fire Service issue coat over her black uniform jacket and trousers.
Mary smiled at sweet little Daisy, who was gurgling with laughter and clapping her hands as Harvey snaffled bits of her breakfast from her high-chair tray, whilst Peggy tried to stop him from doing it at the same time as coaxing Daisy to eat her eggy soldiers. Cordelia was taking no notice of anyone as she read the newspaper, and Mary wondered if she’d switched off her hearing aid – which Peggy had told her was a common occurrence.
‘Help yourself to porridge, dear,’ said Peggy, who looked a bit tired this morning. ‘There’s tea in the pot and plenty of bread for toast.’
‘We’ll all see you tonight then,’ said Fran as the girls headed for the concrete steps that led down to the basement and back door. ‘To be sure, there’s nothing I like more than a good sing-song. It reminds me of the bars at home, where there was always good craic, and I do wish I hadn’t left me fiddle behind in Ireland.’
‘You can play the fiddle?’ asked Peggy as everyone stared at Fran in astonishment.
‘Ach, we all play one instrument or another where I come from,’ she replied dismissively. ‘Me da was a terrific fiddle player, and me mam wasn’t at all bad on the penny whistle. They used to take me and me brothers and sisters to the local bar every Saturday night, and there was always a farthing or two for us if we performed well.’ She gave them all a cheerful wave and hurried off down the steps to be swiftly followed by the others.
‘Did you know about that?’ Peggy asked Ron.
‘Aye, she did mention it a long while ago, but I’d forgotten about it until now. But to be sure, she’s right about everyone learning to play something, even if it’s only the spoons.’ He puffed out his chest. ‘I used to be a dab hand at them in my younger days,’ he added proudly.
‘I’d have thought you’d have preferred blowing your own trumpet,’ said Peggy with a teasing light in her eyes. ‘To be sure, you have a great talent for it.’
‘Ach, Peggy girl, it’s too early in the morning for that sort of talk. I’ll take meself and Harvey off for our walk, and hope you’ll be kinder to an old injured soldier by the time we get back.’ He stomped off down the steps with Harvey at his heels.
‘Don’t take any notice of Ron,’ said Peggy as she finished feeding Daisy and cleaned her face with her bib. ‘He has a good sense of humour and I think he rather enjoys all the ribbing he gets. As for the wounded soldier malarkey, he uses that as an excuse to avoid any jobs I might have for him to do about the house.’
Mary smiled and ate her delicious porridge. She liked Ron, even though he had rather alarming eyebrows and looked as if he slept in clothes that had never been washed, and it was lovely to sit in this homely kitchen, and to share in the warmth and affection of the people who lived here.
‘It’s a shame Fran can’t get her hands on a violin,’ she said as she put a thin smear of the horrid fishy margarine across the wheatmeal toast. ‘Does anyone else in the house play an instrument? Only it would make for a very special evening at the Anchor if we could persuade people to come and join in.’
‘That’s a marvellous idea,’ said Peggy. ‘I can’t think why Rosie hasn’t thought of it before. She’s usually very sharp when it comes to getting more customers in.’ Her bright smile faded. ‘But I doubt Rita or the others have such a talent – they didn’t mention it when Fran told us about her fiddle.’
She put Daisy on the floor so she could crawl about and pull herself up on the furniture. ‘Mind you, there’s no guarantee that Fran can play the fiddle with any expertise, and even if we found one for her, it could end up sounding like tomcats having a set-to.’
Mary laughed. ‘You may well be right. But, you never know, she might surprise us.’
Peggy sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. Then she suddenly snapped her fingers. ‘I’ve just remembered where there is one,’ she said excitedly. ‘Doris went through a phase of hoping that Anthony might prove to be musical, and she bought a violin, a recorder and then the piano – all to no avail, of course. Anthony is tone deaf and couldn’t string a tune together if his life depended on it.’
She puffed furiously on her cigarette as the idea took hold. ‘My sister’s a hoarder, never throws anything out. I bet she’s stuffed it away somewhere to gather dust along with all her other brief flights of fancy.’
Mary finished the toast and returned Peggy’s bright smile. ‘I’ll ask her about it tonight. If she’s in. I’ve never known a woman to be so busy with committee meetings.’
‘Bless you, dear, they aren’t all such things. She goes to see her husband in his flat above the Home and Colonial Store he manages. She and Ted have been separated for a few months after he had an affair with “the floozy”, but she’s agreed to forgive him enough to go round there occasionally for a game of whist and a glass of sherry.’
Peggy tapped ash into a saucer. ‘I think that now Anthony has virtually moved out again, she’s getting a bit lonely. My betting is that it won’t be long before she lets Ted return home to Havelock Road. After all, she has to keep up appearances, what with the wedding getting so near, and Suzy’s parents being so well connected.’
Mary raised an eyebrow at this as she sipped the last of her tea.
‘Oh yes,’ said Peggy as she settled back in her chair for a good gossip. ‘Suzy’s grandfather went to prep school with Winston Churchill, you know, and Churchill was a frequent visitor to their home before the war. Her father is something very important in the Foreign Office and her mother is a society hostess and very well connected.’
She shot Mary a rather naughty grin. ‘Doris has a great deal to live up to, and is busting a gut to put on a grand show at this wedding.’
‘Oh dear, it doesn’t bode well for any of them, does it?’ said Mary.
Peggy shook her head. ‘If Ted has any sense at all he’ll keep well out of it until all the fuss is over. She’s been a compl
ete nightmare to poor Suzy and Anthony, taking over the arrangements, inviting people they don’t want – making all sorts of plans that are really none of her business.’ She stubbed out her cigarette and went to rescue Daisy, who was chewing on a lump of anthracite she’d plucked from the coal scuttle.
‘Did Suzy tell you she and Anthony asked me last night if I’d play the church organ for their ceremony? I agreed, of course, but I’ll have to go and ask the vicar’s permission to practise. Our church organ back in Sussex was out of action for over two years, so I’m a bit rusty.’
‘That would be wonderful,’ sighed Peggy. ‘The organist is a lovely old dear, but she gets flustered too easily and keeps forgetting to put on her reading glasses so she can see the music. She fumbles about, pulls out all the wrong stops and has difficulty reaching those pedal things with her feet, because she’s so short. It can be terribly hard to follow anything she’s trying to play.’
‘In that case I’ll have to go and see her as well as the vicar,’ said Mary as she glanced at the clock. ‘I wouldn’t like to upset her.’ She got up from the table. ‘I’m sorry, Peggy, but I’d better get a move on, or I’ll be late for my shift.’
She quickly washed her crockery and left it on the wooden drainer as Peggy cleaned Daisy’s face again, removed the coal scuttle out of her reach and put her back on the floor. Cordelia was still occupied with the newspaper and seemed oblivious to anything going on around her.
‘How are the rehearsals going for Doris’s charity concert on New Year’s Day?’ asked Peggy.
‘Slowly but surely,’ replied Mary. ‘It’s all a bit haphazard because the orchestra is made up of civilians as well as servicemen, and not everyone can get the time off. But it’s coming along nicely considering we can only rehearse once a week, and it feels marvellous to be playing with a proper orchestra.’
Peggy beamed. ‘You’re very brave,’ she said. ‘I wouldn’t have the nerve to do anything like that.’
