by Ellie Dean
She returned to the kitchen and set about heating up the vegetable soup they would have for lunch. There was a ham bone for tonight – not that there was a lot of meat on it – and she had left it to simmer with some pearl barley and the rest of the vegetables. If there was any soup left after lunch, she’d throw that in as well. With so many people to feed, it was a huge help to have Ron’s garden out the back, and his shared allotment with Stan. However, the potatoes were almost gone until the next lot came up, so she’d soon have to go and stand in some endless queue to buy more.
She watched through the kitchen window as Ron carefully lifted his onions out of the cold ground and tied them together with string. They would be hung up in the dry shed until they were needed.
Her larder was actually looking fairly respectable for once, for she and the girls had gone in search of blackberries earlier in the autumn, and having saved enough sugar, there were now several jars of jam in her larder. Ron’s crop of beetroot had been boiled and pickled, and she’d made endless jars of onion and tomato chutney. Cordelia had found a recipe for parsnip wine, and the result was now fermenting up in the airing cupboard – which gave Peggy many a sleepless night, for she suspected that if the bottles weren’t watched carefully, they’d explode all over her clean linen and towels.
The herbs had been harvested and dried, then placed in yet more jars, so the bland meals could be given a bit of flavour, and the very last of her bags of white flour had been carefully stored away until the time came for her to add it to the mixture for the wedding cake, which was now in a large bowl in the larder, protected by a strip of muslin.
She had begged, borrowed and saved her rations as well as she could, and with the dried fruit that Cordelia’s family had sent from Canada, she knew, from the heavenly smell of it every time she’d stirred a few drops of Ron’s brandy into the mixture over the past couple of weeks, that the cake would be rich and flavoursome. The bag of icing sugar that Rosie had donated was an absolute treasure, and Peggy was already planning on how to do the icing – although she still didn’t know where on earth she could find the appropriate decorations to put on top.
As she stirred the soup, Peggy thought about all the things still to do before the wedding. Suzy’s parents would be arriving on the 18th. At first they had insisted upon booking into the Grand Hotel for the night, but since that had been reduced to rubble, and there were no other hotels that hadn’t been requisitioned by the forces, Peggy had asked them to stay with her instead. She’d made it clear that her accommodation was not as posh as they might be used to, but that they could be assured of a warm welcome. She’d also rather reluctantly extended the invitation for them to stay over for a few extra days – which would have stretched her housekeeping to the limit. Thankfully, they’d declined as they already had pressing engagements back in London.
Doris, of course, had made a terrific fuss about these arrangements. She’d insisted that such important people shouldn’t be staying in Peggy’s tatty old boarding house, and had even overridden Peggy’s invitation by issuing one of her own.
Having heard about Doris from Suzy, and how she’d tried to take over everything, and driven both her and Anthony to distraction in the process, Mr and Mrs James had tactfully declined, citing the fact that they wished to spend time with their daughter and wanted to be with her on her wedding morning so that her father could escort her from Beach View to the church.
Peggy kept stirring the soup, her thoughts occupied by all the changes that would have to be made to accommodate them. Sarah and Jane had willingly offered to give up the large double room at the front of the house and would move into the smaller one at the back. As they were sisters, they didn’t mind sharing the double bed just for a couple of nights. Yet it would mean stripping beds, emptying cupboards and giving the room a jolly good spring clean.
As she simply couldn’t expect such important visitors to eat in the kitchen, the dining room would also have to be cleaned and polished, and the floor given a good waxing. The sweep was coming tomorrow to deal with the chimney – she didn’t want any falls of soot spoiling the proceedings – and she would have to hunt out her best china and glass and make sure they were thoroughly washed. Her mother’s lovely hand-stitched linen tablecloths and napkins needed a wash and iron, and the dust and cobwebs had to be beaten out of the long velvet curtains and swept from the cornices and ceiling rose.
Harvey would have to be hosed down and made sweeter-smelling with his special shampoo and flea powder. Ron would have to be bullied into taking a bath and putting on decent clothes for a change and then be persuaded to have a haircut and shave – and the ferrets must be firmly locked in their cage and kept out of sight. It was a huge upheaval for just one night, and with less than a week to go, Peggy was feeling rather beleaguered.
‘Oh, how lovely,’ sighed Cordelia as she came to the end of her letter and took off her half-moon reading glasses.
‘Good news?’ asked Peggy distractedly.
‘They’ve asked if I would like to go to Canada to live with them for the rest of the war. They’re rather concerned about my safety here, being so close to the Channel.’
‘It’s a bit late in the day for them to be concerned,’ said Peggy with some asperity. ‘You were more in danger during the Blitz.’
‘I know, dear, but the thought is there, and it was very kind of them to offer.’
Peggy studied her friend as she put the letter back in the envelope. Cordelia’s expression was one of sadness and longing, and Peggy’s heart went out to her, for her family had virtually ignored her until now, and she wondered rather cynically if this new concern was entirely altruistic. Cordelia had a fair amount of money tucked away in the bank as well as the ownership of a bungalow which she’d inherited, and was still in possession of several very nice pieces of antique silver and valuable jewellery.
‘You’re not actually considering going, are you?’ she asked with some alarm.
‘Of course not, dear,’ Cordelia replied. ‘My home is here with you, and if they’d really been concerned about my welfare, they’d have issued their invitation back in 1939.’
Peggy gave a sigh of relief. ‘I’m glad they asked you,’ she said as she went to put her hand on the older woman’s shoulder. ‘But this old place just wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t here.’
‘Bless you, Peggy.’ Cordelia patted her hand. ‘I can think of no place I’d rather be – and the thought of going on some convoy across the Atlantic with U-boats hunting us down makes me go cold.’
‘But you’d like to see your sons again, wouldn’t you? And meet all the grandchildren and so on?’
Cordelia nodded. ‘But I’m far too old to start thinking of going all that way, war or not. Perhaps they’ll come and visit me when it’s all over.’
Peggy heard the wistfulness in her voice. ‘Well, they’ll get a warm welcome,’ she said firmly. She turned to the stove and gave the soup a final stir. ‘Could you lay the table and slice some bread, Cordelia? Lunch is ready.’
She shouted down to Ron to wash his hands and come up, and then gasped in delight as a wonderfully familiar figure came through the back gate. ‘We’ve got a visitor, Cordelia,’ she said excitedly. ‘Lay another place, would you?’
Before Cordelia could ask who it was, Martin Black came running up the cellar steps to be greeted by a joyful Harvey, who put his front feet on Martin’s shoulders so he could lick his face, thereby knocking off his gold-braided peaked hat.
‘Get down, ye heathen beast,’ growled Ron, making a grab for his collar. ‘Sorry, Martin,’ he said as he retrieved the hat and gave it a rub with his dirty sweater sleeve. ‘I hope he hasn’t damaged your uniform jacket.’
Martin took the hat, ruffled Harvey’s head and looked at everyone with a beaming smile as he smoothed his handlebar moustache. ‘No damage done. My word, it’s lovely to see you all again.’
Peggy threw her arms about him and hugged him tight. She adored Martin, for he
was not only the perfect son-in-law, but one of the bravest men she knew. ‘We don’t see enough of you,’ she said. ‘How lovely you could snatch some time off.’
‘We’re on ops again tonight, so I can’t stay long, unfortunately.’ He unbuttoned his blue jacket and loosened his tie. ‘But I had a couple of hours to spare, so I thought I’d trundle over.’ His gaze fell on Cordelia, who was in a lather of excitement. ‘And how’s my special girl today?’ he boomed.
‘All the better for seeing you, you naughty boy,’ she twittered. ‘Now come and give this old lady a kiss before she melts right away with longing.’
Peggy smiled as he duly obliged, then remembered the soup and quickly took the pot off the stove. ‘You timed it well,’ she teased as she reached for an extra bowl. ‘We were just about to have lunch.’
‘That soup smells wonderful. Just what the doctor ordered on such a cold day.’ He rubbed his hands together in eager anticipation and then went to pluck Daisy out of her playpen so he could give her a hug.
Peggy watched him and her heart twisted, for she knew how very deeply he was missing his own children.
Having amused Daisy for a while, he placed her carefully in her high chair and tied the bib around her chubby neck. Then he reached into his pocket to draw out a packet wrapped in newspaper.
‘This is a little something to put away for the wedding. Be careful with it, though,’ he added as he handed it to Peggy. ‘It’s quite delicate and only on loan, I’m afraid.’
Peggy unwrapped the packet and gasped in delight, for he couldn’t have brought anything more useful. She admired the small plaster bride and groom standing hand in hand beneath a trellis arch, and the length of lovely blue ribbon which held two perfect little silver bells.
‘Oh, Martin,’ she breathed. ‘They’re perfect. But how on earth did you find them? I’ve been scouring the shops for days.’
‘One of my pilots got married the other week to a lovely girl whose father owns a patisserie in London. I knew from Anne’s letter you were having trouble finding anything to put on the cake, so when I asked, they very kindly said I could borrow them.’
‘I’ll write a note to thank them before you have to go back to the airdrome,’ she said. ‘How kind and thoughtful to let us have them. Suzy will be delighted – and I promise we’ll take great care of them.’ She quickly wrapped the decorations back in their paper and put them safely away in the top drawer of her bedroom chest.
They sat down at the table and tucked into the soup and bread, while Peggy fed Daisy and Harvey sat by Martin’s knee in the faint hope he might get something to eat as well.
‘So,’ said Ron as they ate and discussed the war news. ‘Is Malta as badly damaged as the newspapers say?’
Martin nodded. ‘It was one of my chaps who flew that special reporter out there, and he said it defied description. Seventy-five percent of Valetta has been destroyed, and the rest of the island has been virtually reduced to piles of matchsticks and rubble. They reckon that even with normal supplies and facilities it will take sixty years to rebuild Malta’s towns and villages.’
‘The casualties must have been very high,’ murmured Peggy.
Martin smiled at her. ‘Actually, they were miraculously low considering the bombardment the island has had to withstand. The soft rock it’s built on is ideal for underground shelters, and out of a population of a quarter of a million, there were fewer than three thousand killed or seriously injured.’
‘To be sure, that is a miracle,’ sighed Ron. ‘Especially when you think we lost so many just a few weeks ago after the hotel and boarding houses were hit down on the seafront.’
‘I heard all about that.’ Martin slipped his last crust of bread to Harvey. ‘And I understand you and Harvey have been nominated by the press for some sort of bravery awards?’
‘A lot of fuss over nothing if you ask me,’ grumbled Ron.
‘Not at all. What you did was very courageous, and you should be justly rewarded.’ Martin stroked Harvey’s head and patted his back. ‘If this one gets recognition for all the times he’s gone in to rescue people, then it’s well deserved.’
‘Well, if he does, I’ll frame it and put it up on the mantelpiece in place of honour alongside all my photographs,’ said Peggy as she slipped Harvey her own hard crust – she still hadn’t got used to the gritty taste of the National Loaf and the crusts hurt her teeth. Harvey had no such discernment, and the crust disappeared without touching the sides.
‘Ah, that reminds me. Here’s something else you can put up there,’ said Martin as he handed Peggy an envelope. ‘Don’t worry, I have copies back at Cliffe.’
Peggy drew out some small black-and-white pictures and studied the sweet face of her dark-eyed daughter Anne as she sat with Emily Jane in her arms and Rose Margaret at her knee. It had been taken in Vi’s Somerset farmhouse as the light streamed in through the large window of the sitting room onto the comfortable old rocking chair.
‘Emily Jane has lots of dark hair,’ she said admiringly, ‘and she looks just like Anne at that age. And how tall Rose is now, and how well and happy she looks. She’s gorgeous, Martin – they both are. You must be very proud.’
Martin blinked rapidly, cleared his throat and made a great play of filling his pipe. ‘I am, but I’d have felt much happier if I could have been down there with Anne when Emily arrived. I know she had the magnificent Vi looking after her, but it was hard for her, poor darling.’
‘Harder for you being so far from them all, and living under such a strain,’ said Peggy softly as she passed the photographs to Ron. ‘Will you be able to get some leave soon, so you can visit them all?’
Martin passed the roll of tobacco to Ron and puffed on his pipe before he replied. ‘All leave is cancelled for a while. There are many more raids planned, and we’re losing aircraft and men at an alarming rate, so I’m afraid it’s all hands to the wheel.’
Peggy stared at him. ‘But that doesn’t mean you, surely? You’ve done more than your bit already – and even the RAF have recognised that, which is why you’ve been flying a desk …’ She tailed off as she saw his expression, and her spirits plummeted. ‘Oh, Martin, no.’
He examined the bowl of his pipe for a moment. ‘I’m afraid it does mean me leaving my desk again, Peggy,’ he said solemnly, ‘which is why I was so determined to come over today.’ His expression was very serious as he finally looked back at her. ‘I’ll be on ops for the foreseeable future, as long as Air Marshall Harris continues his campaign of blanket bombing – and I totally agree with him that it’s imperative to keep up the bombardment. The Germans have to be stopped; especially now they’re developing some sort of new weapon.’
‘What sort of weapon?’ asked Peggy sharply.
‘I think you’d better forget I mentioned that,’ he said rather shamefacedly. ‘A bit of a breach of secrets, don’t you know.’
‘How can I forget such a thing?’ she breathed. ‘What is this weapon supposed to do? Will we be safe in our beds if they fire it?’
‘Peggy, please don’t worry about it. The Germans are still at the very earliest stages of experimentation, and we have no intention of letting them develop the thing any further – which is why it’s so important we continue with our bombing raids. But this is to go no further, do you understand?’
‘Of course we understand.’ Peggy gathered Daisy into her arms to be comforted by her warmth and weight. ‘Oh, Martin, you will be careful, won’t you?’
‘I have every intention of coming back in one piece, Peggy, and as I’ll be surrounded by some of the world’s most skilled airmen, there really is no need to worry.’
Peggy looked unconvinced, so Martin continued, ‘Young Randolph Stevens is flying his Lancaster alongside mine, and both Freddy Pargeter and Roger Makepeace will be accompanying Matthew in their Spitfires to provide us with fighter defence. We’ve been doing similar runs for some time now, so really, there’s no need to fret over any of us.’
T
he thought of Cissy’s Randolph and Rita’s Matthew being up there with Kitty’s Roger and Freddy gave her no peace of mind at all. But there was a war on, lives were being put at risk every day – and she simply had to accept that and not make Martin’s job even harder by making a fuss.
‘Will you be able to come to the wedding?’ she asked, determined to change the subject.
‘I sincerely hope so,’ he replied, clearly relieved to be moving to an easier topic. ‘But I might be a bit late arriving,’ he warned. ‘I’m hoping to dash up and see the parents for a couple of hours that day because I’ll be on duty over Christmas and it will be the only chance I’ll get. If the traffic’s bad, or there’s a raid, I could be delayed.’
Peggy had very little time for Martin’s parents. They’d treated Anne very badly when she and Martin had been courting, for they’d disapproved of her lowly background and simply refused to accept that their son wanted to marry such a girl. They’d actually bothered to turn up for the wedding after a great deal of shilly-shallying which had hurt Martin dreadfully. But their cool disdain and stiff politeness had set them apart from the other guests, and they’d made their excuses within minutes of the speeches at the reception and left without even saying goodbye.
‘Are they well?’ she asked, to be polite.
‘They seem to be coping all right,’ said Martin. ‘Unfortunately I don’t get to see them much, and they don’t write often.’ He gave a sigh. ‘I’m rather hoping that the birth of their second granddaughter might alter their attitude to Anne – which is why I want to take the photographs up to show them instead of just sending them in the post.’
Peggy didn’t say so, but she doubted either of them would change their snooty opinion of her beautiful daughter – and as far as she was concerned, they could stick their money and position right up their expensive jumpers.
