Always in my Heart (Beach View Boarding House 5)

by Ellie Dean

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ Doris hissed. ‘Have you no shame, Margaret? Whatever would the neighbours think if they heard you talking about such things on the doorstep?’

  Peggy hated being called Margaret, and Doris knew it. ‘I really couldn’t care less,’ she replied. ‘Now, are you going to let me in or not?’

  Doris shifted from one well-shod foot to another and ran her manicured hands down her tweed skirt. ‘It’s a little awkward,’ she said.

  Peggy couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘Have you got your lover in there? Or are you and Ted in the middle of something naughty?’

  Doris reared back her head, chin quivering as her eyes became flinty. ‘Don’t be vulgar, Margaret. I simply have Anthony visiting, and we have private matters to discuss before he has to return to his extremely important work with the MOD.’

  Peggy chuckled. Even in high dudgeon, Doris couldn’t resist bragging. ‘That’s perfect,’ she spluttered. ‘Anthony is just the person I need to talk to.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You’ll find out when you remember your manners and let me in,’ she retorted.

  Doris looked extremely put out about the whole thing, but years of social climbing and caring about what the neighbours might think won her over and she stepped back and held the door open so Peggy could struggle alone to get the pram into the hall.

  ‘I hope she doesn’t start crying,’ she said with a sniff. ‘I’ve suffered the most fearful headache these past few days and simply couldn’t bear it.’

  ‘She’ll sleep for another hour yet,’ replied Peggy, her fingers crossed behind her back as she kicked the brake into place. ‘Is there any chance of a cuppa after I’ve used your lav? Only I’m parched.’

  ‘Lavatory, Margaret. Don’t be so common.’ She turned on her heel. ‘We’re in the drawing room,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘The tea is already made. I’ll get the girl to bring another cup.’

  Peggy’s sympathies were with the young woman who came in to clean, and wondered vaguely why she didn’t find a better paid job in a factory. Anything had to be easier than running after Doris all day for a pittance.

  Peggy used the downstairs cloakroom, which was terribly posh with lovely tiles, a big iron radiator which warmed expensive fluffy towels, and even a slab of perfumed soap to wash one’s hands. She could have stayed in there all day.

  The drawing room was filled with sunlight. The panoramic sea view – seen through the tape crisscrossed over the deep bay window – was quite magnificent, and Peggy always felt as if she was on a luxury cruise liner when she paid one of her rare visits here.

  Anthony stood as she entered the room. He was tall and a little too slender, but he had a pleasant smile, nice brown eyes behind dark-framed spectacles, and a shock of rather unruly brown hair. Dressed in casual corduroy trousers, brogues and a sweater, he looked every inch the Oxford graduate. ‘Hello, Aunt Peg. You look well. How’s Daisy?’

  Peggy gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. ‘Daisy’s asleep, and I feel ready for a cup of tea after that long walk. It’s quite brisk out there, you know.’ She pulled off the woolly hat, slipped off her coat and fox pelt and carefully sat down on the expensively covered couch. It didn’t do to dent the plumped cushions or mark the silky upholstery – not in Doris’s drawing room.

  Afternoon tea was laid out on a trolley, and her mouth watered as she saw there were sandwiches, biscuits and even a slab of what looked like real ginger cake. The tea was poured into wafer-thin china cups so delicate that Peggy was always terrified of breaking one. But the tea was hot and strong – no doubt one of Ted’s perks for being the manager of the Home and Colonial – and boosted her no end.

  Two sandwiches and a slice of cake slipped down very easily as she made small talk with Doris and congratulated Anthony on his presence of mind in bringing the cake.

  He smiled shyly at her and pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘I managed to persuade the fortress cook to let me have it,’ he said. ‘She seems to think I need feeding up.’

  ‘You said you wanted to talk to Anthony,’ said Doris as she fitted a cigarette into a long ebony holder and lit it with her gold lighter.

  Peggy turned to her nephew and told him about Cordelia’s dilemma. ‘I know it’s a bit of a long shot,’ she finished. ‘But you were the only person I could think of who might be able to help.’

  He ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about it. ‘I might know a man who might know someone who could help,’ he murmured, ‘but it could take some time. The situation in Malaya is tense, to say the least, and the civilians are leaving in droves. Even if her nephew was there before the war, he could be anywhere by now.’

  ‘I realise that, but Cordelia is fretting, and just knowing that someone’s looking for him will ease her mind no end.’

  ‘I really don’t know why you feel you have to get involved in other people’s affairs,’ sniffed Doris. ‘After all, Cordelia Finch is only a lodger.’

  ‘She’s far more than that,’ said Peggy, reaching for her woolly hat. ‘By the way, Doris, what happened to the Galloway family and their neighbours? I see the houses are gone.’

  ‘They took a direct hit on the same day the cinema was flattened, but luckily both families had already left Cliffehaven. Joanna Galloway is in Cornwall with her children, and the Sandersons are in Wales with their granddaughter.’ She looked rather pointedly at her watch.

  Peggy took the hint and picked up her coat. Doris had yet to ask about how Jim was after being blasted out of the cinema, but at least the Galloways and their neighbours were safe.

  ‘Thanks, Anthony. I’ll wait to hear from you.’ She smiled up at him as he stood to help her with her coat – Anthony always did have lovely manners. ‘Why don’t you pop in to us on your next day off? I know Jim and Ron would love to see you.’

  ‘That would be nice, thank you, Aunt Peg.’ He gave her a slow, sweet smile as he handed her the ratty bit of fur.

  ‘That’s fit only for the dustbin,’ said Doris with a shudder. ‘I do hope it hasn’t got any nasty things living in it.’

  Peggy wrapped it firmly round her neck, pulled the woolly hat low over her ears, and buttoned her coat. ‘Thanks for the cuppa, Doris,’ she said, and headed for the door.

  Anthony took a peek at the sleeping Daisy and then helped Peggy get the pram through the front door and over the shingle driveway. ‘I’ll do my best, Aunt Peg,’ he said, ‘but these are difficult times, with millions of people on the move. Either way, I’ll pop in and see Mrs Finch if you think that would help.’

  Peggy grinned. ‘She’d love to see you again. But I can’t promise ginger cake and fine china.’

  He smiled back with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘It’s the company that counts,’ he replied, ‘and I’ve always felt at home in Beach View.’

  Peggy gave him a quick hug and headed for home. She was very fond of Anthony, and just wished he could find some lovely girl to marry. But the stumbling block was Doris, of course, for no girl would ever be good enough – and no girl had yet proved she felt strongly enough about Anthony to stand up to her.

  Chapter Nine

  Malaya

  There had been no further attacks from the Japanese planes as the endless stream of refugees slowly approached the long causeway which would take them to Singapore Island. But it was soon clear that Singapore itself was a prime target, and after the first of the nightly bombing raids, the two Malay servants disappeared into the swarming melee of the native slums and were never seen again.

  Sarah had always liked the Bristows’ bungalow, and as she’d helped Amah and Jane unpack the essentials from the trunks and boxes they had brought with them, she’d felt quite at home. But there was always the fear for Philip, and it overshadowed her days and haunted her nights. The Japanese were swarming all through the peninsula – had he become trapped? Was he still safe, or had he been shot and killed like so many others? It had now been confirmed that the Japanese weren’t taking prisoners
, and the knowledge made her sick at heart.

  The Singapore she had known and loved had changed since her last visit. Alarmingly, it proved to be ill-prepared and far from safe, despite the vast number of troops that were arriving daily, and the reinforced defences round the island. The sirens would shriek every night as the bombers roared overhead and the crump of exploding bombs rocked the very foundations of the house. Food was scarce; air-raid shelters weren’t completed; blackout was erratic; water had to be boiled; and the family had taken to sleeping on mattresses beneath Brigadier Bristow’s billiard table. If it hadn’t been for Amah’s knowledge of the native markets, they would have starved.

  Jock had not returned to the rubber plantation as he’d planned, for not only would it be foolhardy in the extreme to risk such a journey; he’d come to realise that his family was in terrible danger, and that he had to find some way to get them out of Singapore. The Japanese were closing in rapidly on Kuala Lumpur, and despite their vast numbers, the British and Allied armies had little air or sea support and couldn’t hold them back.

  Sarah’s anxiety over Philip’s whereabouts was tempered with worry over her parents. Sybil was looking decidedly off-colour, despite her denials. The scratch on her face was taking its time to heal – although it didn’t seem to have become infected, which was always the danger in the tropics – and she was still suffering from the mosquito bites which formed ugly red lumps on her arms and neck and itched constantly, even though Amah smothered them in her special creams.

  By the end of their first week in Singapore, Jock was on the point of exhaustion. He spent his days desperately trying to find a passage for his wife and daughters on one of the ships. He stood in endless queues, badgered officials, tried to pull strings and call in favours – but it seemed the entire white population of Malaya and Singapore were just as determined to get their wives and children out, and there just weren’t enough ships.

  Sarah and Jane were playing a board game in the sitting room when they heard the truck pull into the front drive. They looked up expectantly as Jock opened the door, threw his hat on the hall table and strode into the room.

  ‘Good news,’ he announced, slinging his crumpled jacket over the back of a chair and unfastening the holster at his waist. ‘I’ve got you all a passage on the Monarch of the Glen. You leave on the dawn tide for England, the day after tomorrow.’

  As Jane congratulated him for being so clever, Sarah was overwhelmed with mixed emotions. ‘But you’re coming with us, aren’t you? It’s pretty clear by now that you can’t go back to the plantation.’

  Jock locked the pistol in a drawer, poured the last of the Brigadier’s whisky into a glass and swallowed it down. ‘I must stay here and help defend Singapore. It’s my duty – and I’m damned if I’ll run away like a rat leaving a sinking ship.’

  ‘But, Daddy, you aren’t a soldier,’ said Jane, ‘and we need you.’

  He eyed his daughters fondly. ‘I need to know that you and your mother are safely on your way to England,’ he said. ‘But I also need to do my bit here. Once I don’t have you to worry about, I can focus more clearly.’

  ‘Your father is right,’ said Sybil as she came into the room. ‘We must all be brave and do as he wishes.’ She gave Jock a wan smile and sank gracefully into a nearby chair. ‘We’re leaving the day after tomorrow, you say? Then you’d better tell us what the arrangements are, so we can be prepared.’

  ‘Are you feeling all right, Sybil?’ he asked in alarm. ‘You look very flushed.’

  ‘I am a bit hot, and I have a slight headache,’ she said, dismissing both with a wave of her hand. ‘But I’m sure it’s just the tension of these past few weeks. Don’t fuss, Jock.’

  He eyed her suspiciously, but she smiled back at him brightly enough, so he turned and reached into his jacket pocket for a sheaf of papers. ‘We must be on the docks at four in the morning with all your identification documents, and ready to board by five. You will be allowed to take one suitcase each.’

  Sybil gasped. ‘But I can’t possibly get everything I’ll need in one case.’

  ‘Darling, you’ll just have to be careful with your packing,’ said Jock quietly. ‘You won’t need tea dresses and ballgowns, or a hundred pairs of shoes and gloves.’

  ‘But what about the family silver, and my Meissen figurines? I can’t just leave them here in Elsa’s bungalow.’

  ‘I’ll make arrangements for them to be stored safely somewhere,’ he soothed. ‘But I would advise you take your jewellery – you might need it to sell if I can’t get money to you.’

  Appalled, Sybil stared back at him. ‘Most of it was my grandmother’s,’ she said, ‘and I would never sell it.’ She rose from the chair, clearly flustered. ‘Really, Jock,’ she muttered, ‘you’re upsetting me with all this talk of running out of money.’

  He caught her hand and held it to his lips. ‘I’m being cautious, Sybil,’ he murmured. ‘None of us knows how long we’ll be parted – and you’ll need money in England to see you and the girls through.’ He put his arm round her thickened waist. ‘I’ve arranged with our bank here to telegraph its counterpart in Cliffehaven and then start to transfer money into my father’s old account which he’d set up years ago. I’ve also sent telegrams to Cordelia and Amelia, warning them of your impending arrival.’

  Sybil nodded. ‘We’ll also need cash for the journey,’ she murmured. ‘Do you think we’ll be going ashore anywhere on the way? Only we’re going to need warm clothes in England, for none of us owns anything warmer than a thin cardigan.’

  ‘I really don’t know,’ he admitted, ‘but I’ll see if I can exchange some Malay dollars into pounds sterling.’

  Sybil dabbed her hot face with a scrap of handkerchief, and rubbed the reddened lumps on her arm. ‘I must tell Amah what’s happening and prepare her for the journey. I do hope—’

  ‘I’m sorry, Sybil,’ Jock said as he stilled her hand. ‘Amah isn’t allowed to go with you.’

  ‘But she must,’ Jane protested. ‘She’s part of the family, and we can’t leave her here.’

  ‘I’m sorry, my darlings,’ he replied, ‘but Amah isn’t a British subject. She will not be allowed to sail with you.’ As the three of them began to argue with him rather forcefully, he held up his hands for silence. ‘I will see that she is safe and well provided for,’ he said firmly. ‘Amah is as important to me as she is to you, and I promise I will look after her.’

  ‘I have family in Singapore,’ said the tiny woman in the doorway. ‘They will shelter me. Thank you, Tuan.’ She put her hands together and bowed low. ‘If you would excuse, please, I must help Mems to pack.’

  That night and the following day were spent packing – and her mother was right, for no matter how careful she was, Sarah still couldn’t get all she wanted into the large leather case. She looked in despair at all the pretty frocks and hand-sewn nightwear and blouses she had to leave behind and then sadly had to accept she needed the space for more precious things.

  The silver-backed dressing-table set was wrapped in with her underwear; two pairs of light sandals were wedged in the corners of the case, and the photographs had been painstakingly taken from the heavy family albums and placed between the pages of The Jungle Book, which had remained a great favourite since childhood. The framed photograph of her and Philip standing on the veranda the night they had celebrated their engagement had been tenderly placed within the folds of a hand-painted silk evening wrap. She possessed only a pearl necklace and studs in the way of jewellery, and these she would tuck in their velvet box and carry in her handbag when she wasn’t wearing them.

  Sybil had come up with the bright idea that they should all wear as many clothes as possible to add to the amount of things they could take, and Sarah had three dresses, two lightweight cardigans, and a jacket, on hangers waiting for the following morning. She would also wear a hat and put spare gloves and some silk scarves in the jacket pocket.

  Some of the clothing she would wear tomo
rrow held a secret, for Amah had set them all to sewing Sybil’s precious jewellery into the linings. At times like this it wasn’t wise to have such valuable things simply locked in a suitcase.

  It was five in the afternoon on their last day in Singapore, and every time she heard a car engine, Sarah looked out of the bungalow window anxiously in the hope it might be Philip. To see him again, to know he was safe, was all she wanted. But their ship would leave in fourteen hours, and once it had sailed, it could be months before she discovered what had happened to him.

  ‘I know there’s no point in me telling you not to worry about Philip,’ said Jock as he watched her pace the room. ‘But the minute I hear anything I’ll send you a telegraph. I promise.’

  They both turned in surprise as Amah, usually so calm and quiet, came running into the room with a cry of distress. ‘It is Mem,’ she sobbed. ‘You must call doctor.’

  They rushed into the big bedroom and found Sybil writhing on the bed, her hands clutching her head, her clothes soaked in perspiration as angry red spots flared on her neck and chest.

  Jock scooped her up in his arms. ‘Get the car, Sarah. She needs to go to hospital.’

  With Amah and Jane running after them, Jock and Sarah raced out of the bungalow. Sarah’s hands fumbled with the key as Jane and Amah climbed in beside her, and Jock clambered into the back with an extremely distressed Sybil still clasped in his arms.

  ‘Put your foot down, Sarah,’ Jock commanded.

  The journey through the city to the General Hospital on the Outram Road was as fraught as always, with bicycles, rickshaws, cattle, goats, chickens and natives jostling for space alongside trucks, dilapidated taxis, and armoured cars.

  Sarah drove as fast as she could, swerving recklessly to avoid small children who darted out from the crowd, and speeding when she could past the native foodstalls and open sewers, dodging potholes, skinny cats and stray dogs.

  The sirens began to wail before they even had sight of the hospital, and Sarah automatically slowed down.