Sealed With a Loving Kiss

by Ellie Dean

  The time sped past and soon Ron and Rosie came up the stairs to join them for a meal of cold chicken and bubble and squeak which Mary had put together. They left shortly afterwards to take the two dogs for a walk, promising to return with fish and chips if any of the fishmongers were frying tonight.

  Mary and Jack settled down on the couch with the radio turned down low and spent a lovely afternoon talking, cuddling and making plans for the future – and when things got a bit intense, Mary ordered him to sweep the hearth and light the fire while she washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen. It was fun to play house, with Jack busy in the sitting room while she pottered in the kitchen, but goodness only knew what her mother would have said about it, for she definitely wouldn’t have approved.

  It was almost five o’clock when Ron and Rosie returned triumphantly with lovely fish and chips, which they ate straight out of the paper. ‘That was delicious,’ said Mary as she finished the last chip and licked her fingers to savour the salt and grease.

  ‘Well, I’ll be off to me Home Guard duties,’ said Ron, feeding the dogs with the scraps of batter from his fish. ‘It’s an all-nighter, so you’ll not see me until tomorrow.’ He gave Rosie a hearty kiss, clicked his fingers at Harvey, and they both clattered down the stairs.

  ‘And I have to open up,’ said Rosie. She stood in front of the mirror above the fireplace to freshen her make-up. ‘I’m on my own tonight, so it’s bound to be hectic.’

  ‘Could I help at all?’ asked Jack eagerly.

  Rosie chuckled. ‘Have you had any experience other than from the other side of the bar?’

  He shook his head, his expression rueful. ‘But I’m a quick learner, Rosie, and you need a hand.’

  ‘All right then. We’ll give it a try, but it will mean Mary being on her own all evening.’

  ‘No, it won’t,’ said Mary as she gathered up the greasy newspapers and folded them into the wood box by the hearth. ‘I’m coming down too, and because it’s the only way to repay you for giving us such a lovely day, I’ll be more than happy to play the piano.’

  ‘Oh, but you don’t want to be doing that on your last night together,’ gasped Rosie.

  Mary took her hand and gave her a kiss on her soft, freshly powdered cheek. ‘We can’t think of anything we’d like more, so please let us do it.’

  Rosie relented gracefully, and they trooped downstairs. She ordered Monty to stay by the inglenook, before giving Jack a swift course in how to pull a pint correctly, and the mechanics of working the till, then sent him down to the cellar to fetch a couple of crates. As the clock struck the hour, she pulled back the bolts on the door and the first few customers strolled in to the sound of Mary playing the piano.

  It was now just past eleven and Rosie had locked the door after her last customer. Mary and Jack quickly helped to finish washing the glasses and clearing up the bar, for they could see how tired she was. Once everything was neat again, they went upstairs and Mary made her a cup of tea before reluctantly gathering up her things.

  ‘Thank you again, Rosie,’ she said as she gave her a hug. ‘You’ve given me and Jack a wonderful day, and we’re so very grateful.’

  ‘I was glad to do it,’ she replied, returning the hug. ‘And if you ever need to talk, or feel like a bit of respite from Doris, you know where I am.’

  Mary blinked back her tears, unable to voice her gratitude and affection for this lovely woman who’d become such an important part of her new life here in Cliffehaven.

  Rosie held her arms open to Jack. ‘Now, you take care of yourself and come back to this lovely girl,’ she said, giving him an enthusiastic hug. ‘And the next time you come on leave, there’ll be a spare bedroom, so you can stay with me instead of that soulless hostel.’

  Jack blushed to the roots of his cropped hair. ‘Thanks, Rosie. You’ve been a true friend to both of us.’ He clasped Mary’s hand. ‘Look after my girl, won’t you?’

  Rosie’s smile was soft. ‘Of course I will – and so will Peggy. Now get out of here before I start getting tearful.’

  Mary’s hand was warm in his as they left the Anchor and walked down the street, and she could feel the strength in his fingers, and the sturdiness of him as she leaned into him. The day had been perfect, but now it was almost over and they would have to say goodbye, not knowing what the future held, or how long they would be apart. She blinked back her tears, determined not to make a fuss, but her heart was aching as every step took them closer to that parting.

  ‘You’ve fallen on your feet here,’ he said. ‘Rosie and Peggy remind me of my mum, and I do feel easier about leaving now I know there’s someone to look out for you.’

  Mary roused herself from her dark thoughts and forced a smile into her voice. ‘I don’t want you worrying about me,’ she replied with a lightness that belied the heaviness in her heart. ‘Just take care of yourself and come home safe and sound.’

  He pulled her into his side as they walked silently towards Havelock Road, their true thoughts unspoken, their fears hidden deep inside. As they reached the house he drew her into the deep shadows of the overhanging trees. Taking her in his arms, he kissed her and then held her for a long moment, his chin resting on her head. They had no need for words, for each knew what was in the other’s heart.

  With a deep sigh he finally stepped back. ‘I have to go, Mary,’ he said brokenly.

  Mary clung to his hands. She wanted to beg him to be careful, to not forget her – to come home safe and unharmed and not put himself to any unnecessary risk by being a hero. But she said nothing, knowing that he would return if he could, and that their future was now in the hands of Fate.

  ‘I love you,’ she said, her voice soft and unsteady as she battled with her tears.

  ‘I love you too, my own, sweet, precious Mary.’ His eyes glistened and the muscles in his face moved beneath the tanned flesh as he struggled to hold in his own raw emotions. He released his grip on her fingers, took a step back and then turned and ran down the road.

  Mary stood there until she could no longer see him or hear his boots thudding on the pavement. ‘God go with you, Jack,’ she managed through her tears. ‘And keep you safe so you can come home to me.’

  Chapter Ten

  MARY WAS WAITING outside the ramshackle drill hall which overlooked the allotments, her Christmas scarf pulled up to her chin, her gloved hands deep in her coat pocket. It was the day after Jack had left and she felt empty inside and rather lonely, but she had other concerns to keep her mind occupied at this moment, for the orchestra were already tuning up, and Fran was late.

  This would be the first rehearsal that Fran could attend, for she’d been on duty at the hospital on the other occasions, and if she missed this one, there were only two more before the concert. The conductor, Algernon Beamish, was a stickler about attendance and he hadn’t taken kindly to Doris’s insistence that Fran join the orchestra, which he considered to be his creation – he certainly wouldn’t be pleased if she didn’t even show up.

  Mary heard the sound of running footsteps and turned with a smile as Fran came haring up the road still in her nurse’s uniform and cape. ‘You’re cutting it fine. I didn’t think you’d make it.’

  ‘I very nearly didn’t,’ puffed Fran. ‘To be sure, Matron was in a terrible mood today and I had to stay on to watch over one of the probationers.’ She finally got her breath back and grinned. ‘It was lucky I took the violin to work with me. I’d never have made it at all if I’d had to go back home to fetch it.’

  ‘Well, you’re here now, so we’d better go in and introduce you to the others before they get started on the first piece. You’ll know some of the orchestra, because they’re servicemen who play along with us at the pub.’

  Fran suddenly hung back as Mary went to push open the door. ‘I’m not too sure about this, Mary. What if they say I’m not good enough and tell me to leave?’

  Mary laughed. ‘That isn’t going to happen in a million years, Fran. You really must
start believing in yourself, you know, because you’re so talented you’ll probably put the rest of us to shame.’

  She took Fran’s hand and firmly led the way into the hall with its bare wooden floor and dusty rafters lining the tin roof. The main body of the small building was crammed with chairs, music stands and people, the grand piano that had been lent by the Mayor had been tucked away in a corner by shelves laden with scout and guide equipment; and the rather large harpist had to squeeze behind her instrument because it was jammed in the other corner.

  Everyone stopped tuning their instruments as Mary introduced Fran, who went as red as a beetroot and looked ready to run for the hills when she spied Robert Goodyear amongst the musicians. Mary knew her friend had managed to avoid him since he’d been best man at Suzy’s wedding, but he’d taken to hanging about outside the hospital, which was rather disturbing, for he never approached her, or tried to speak, just stood gazing at her as she hurried away.

  ‘You didn’t warn me he’d be here,’ she hissed to Mary.

  ‘I didn’t think you’d come if I did.’ She shot her a rueful smile. ‘Sorry, Fran.’

  Their whispered conversation was interrupted by the elderly conductor, who was portly and balding and rather pleased with himself, as he’d once been well known in music circles until he’d been caught by the entire string section in flagrante with a married lady cellist. ‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘Sit over there and let me hear what you can do before I agree to you joining us.’

  Mary squeezed Fran’s hand and then hurried over to the piano and took off her gloves. It was wise to keep her coat on like everyone else, for the place was freezing, with a draught whistling beneath the door and through the two badly fitting windows.

  She watched as Fran greeted the servicemen she knew from the music nights at the Anchor, then sat down and took her time to tune up her violin. Mary started to fret, for she’d forgotten to warn Fran not to play an Irish jig as her introductory piece. It wouldn’t go down well with Mr Beamish, who was clearly already prepared to dislike her inclusion into what he thought of as his orchestra. But it was too late now, and everyone was waiting.

  It was then that she noticed Robert Goodyear. His brown eyes were liquid with longing as he clasped his gleaming clarinet in his large hands and watched Fran’s every move, and she could understand now how disconcerting Fran must find this silent adoration. Perhaps she’d been wrong to keep his presence a secret.

  Fran finished tuning the violin and, after taking a deep, steadying breath, began to play the first movement of a Bach sonata. As the beautiful notes rang clearly and sweetly through the hushed room, Mary relaxed and felt an enormous pride in her friend’s undoubted talent. And when she came to the end there was rapturous applause from everyone – even the middle-aged violinist, who was already aware that she fell far short of Mr Beamish’s high standard.

  The conductor was harder to please. ‘Not bad,’ he said snootily. ‘But this is light music for the masses, not a formal recital of the classics. Having had to wait for you to grace us with your presence, we shall now get on with our programme. We will begin with Grieg’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King.”’ He raised the baton, waited for the rustling of sheet music to cease, and then brought it down for the first beat.

  Mary loved this piece and was thrilled at the sound the small orchestra was making considering how few rehearsals they’d managed to have. Following the Grieg, there was a piece from Tchaikovsky’s ballet, Sleeping Beauty, and then they played through several popular tunes from films such as Top Hat, For Me and My Gal and Holiday Inn.

  ‘Thank you,’ said the conductor. ‘That was almost up to the standard I was hoping for. Let us get on now with Rhapsody in Blue.’ He looked from Mary to Robert, who was still gazing at Fran. ‘Mr Goodyear, if you could tear yourself away from ogling our new violinist. We are waiting.’

  Robert went scarlet as the others stifled their laughter. He fumbled with his sheet music and blew a couple of nervous notes on his clarinet. Then, with one last desperate glance at Fran, he nodded to Mary, who was waiting patiently at the piano, and began to play the most mesmerising opening glissando. Mary’s scalp tingled. She’d never heard him play with such intensity or passion before, and by the look on Fran’s face, she too was completely swept away in the music, to the point where she almost missed her cue.

  As the orchestra joined in and played through Gershwin’s masterfully haunting piece, Mary noted with a smile how often Fran kept glancing across at Robert. It seemed the poor man had finally caught her attention and she could only hope that his awkward shyness wouldn’t let him down when the rehearsal was over.

  The Town Hall clock struck ten and everyone gathered up their sheet music and stowed away their instruments, in a hurry to get home or back to their barracks. Mary covered the grand piano in blankets to keep out the cold and damp, and the lady on the harp used thick old curtains to do the same for her instrument. They would be moved over the following days to the larger hall nearer town where the concert was to take place, so they could rehearse there and get used to the acoustics.

  Mary glanced across and saw that Fran was deep in conversation with Robert, who no longer looked quite so shy – although his colour was a bit high and he kept clutching his clarinet case to his chest as if his life depended upon it.

  Fran’s face was animated, her graceful hands emphasising her words as she shook back her hair and looked up into his face. Whatever she was saying had him ensnared, but he was clearly not struck dumb with awkwardness for he was actually holding a proper conversation with her.

  Deciding it would be tactless to interrupt this budding friendship of mutual admiration, Mary pulled on her gloves and followed the others outside. Perhaps Peggy was right after all, for it was surprising what one could discover about a person when they were given the opportunity to shine. And Robert had certainly shone tonight.

  It was the first day of 1943, and with news of Russia’s slow but steady victories in recapturing territory from the Germans, and the great advances being made by the Combined Forces in North Africa, there was finally hope in the air that this New Year would prove to be a turning point in the war.

  Rosie skimmed through the newspapers she hadn’t had time to read over the Christmas period, and then set them aside as she realised she hadn’t really taken in any of the news at all. She would have liked to go to the charity concert this afternoon to show her support for Mary and Fran, but the timing was all wrong and she was exhausted. It had been an incredibly busy night in the bar, and because she’d managed to get an extended licence for once, the party had gone on until midnight. It had been almost three in the morning before she’d finished clearing up and could fall into bed.

  She eyed her reflection in the bathroom mirror and grimaced. She needed a long session at the hairdresser’s to refresh her set and get rid of the dark roots that were showing through the platinum. Her skin looked washed out, and there were shadows beneath her eyes and the tracery of more fine lines. The late nights and the stress of waiting for Tommy to discover what she’d done were really starting to tell.

  She plastered on her make-up and tried to hide the ravages of the past six days with a thick dusting of powder and a swipe of lipstick. The light coming in through the window wasn’t kind, for it merely emphasised the faint lines that had appeared suddenly at the corners of her eyes and along her top lip. Perhaps she should just tell him what she’d done, and get it over with. She couldn’t go on like this for much longer.

  She pulled on her skirt and tucked in her blouse, then brushed out her hair and tried to find the energy to smile as she clipped on her earrings. Ron would be back soon from taking the dogs for their walk, and there was the vaguest of chances that people had had their fill of drink the night before and would stay at home to nurse their hangovers. She could do with a quiet lunchtime, for her supplies had run very low over the Christmas period and the drayman wasn’t due for another two days.

  A
s she left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, she could hear Tommy thudding up the stairs and along the hallway to his bedroom. He’d gone out very early to make his daily report to the police station and had disappeared for almost three hours – now he was in danger of being late for his stint with the Home Guard. Yet she said nothing, for it would only have been a waste of breath and he would accuse her of nagging, so she set about making herself a cup of coffee to try and boost her low energy.

  ‘What the hell have you done with my booze and fags?’ roared Tommy as he came storming into the kitchen, his face flushed and his eyes glittering with fury.

  Rosie’s heart hammered as she pressed back against the draining board and blinked up at him in fear. ‘I poured it away,’ she managed in a whisper.

  Tommy went even redder and his blue eyes were like shards of ice. ‘You did what?’ he roared. His hands were fists as he advanced on her. ‘You stupid, brainless bitch. Do you know how much money that lot was worth?’

  Rosie felt the warmth of his spittle on her face and her hand trembled as she wiped it away. ‘Of course I do,’ she rasped.

  ‘Then why? Why?’ he stormed.

  Her pulse was racing and she was finding it hard to even breathe. ‘Because it was illegal,’ she stammered as she tried to edge away from him. ‘If the police found it I’d lose everything – and I couldn’t risk that.’

  ‘Selfish, stupid bitch,’ he snarled, his fists rising as he trapped her in the corner. ‘You only think of yourself, don’t you?’

  ‘I have to,’ she said, with rather more defiance than she actually felt. ‘There’s no one else to look out for me.’

  ‘I’m your brother, and of course I’ll look out for you,’ he shouted. ‘In fact I was going to move it all today, so you and your precious fucking pub wouldn’t get involved.’

  Rosie flinched at his language but somehow found the courage to face up to him. ‘Don’t swear at me in that filthy way,’ she shouted back at him. ‘I’m not one of your common tarts.’