by Ellie Dean
Sarah couldn’t answer her questions. She was still feeling bewildered by the speed and urgency of their departure – afraid for the home she’d lost and the way of life which had been so cruelly snatched away from her. She didn’t know what was happening back in Singapore, if her mother had recovered and had had the baby – or if her father and Philip were at this very moment engaged in battle against the invaders – and it was this not knowing that increased her anxiety.
‘We must be brave, Jane,’ she said as her sister rested her head on her shoulder. ‘Pops is trusting us to do the best we can, and once we’re in England we’ll be able to write to him, and he’ll send us news of Mother.’
She gave Jane a handkerchief to dry her eyes. ‘Singapore will not have to fight alone for long,’ she soothed. ‘The Allies will soon come to their aid, and then the Japanese will be sent packing once and for all.’
Sarah and Jane had been billeted down in the hold along with the other single women and older children – the cabins had been allocated to mothers with babies and toddlers. But as they explored the ship, they discovered that the conditions in the cabins weren’t that much more comfortable. Strangers had to share the small spaces, often with several children, and the portholes had been painted black and were tightly locked. It was hardly surprising that everyone preferred being on deck during the day.
Clearly discipline and order had to be maintained, and the women were given what appeared to be an endless list of rules. Like most of the others, Sarah and Jane realised that many of these rules were there to protect them and happily complied. But the hundreds of children on board saw only new challenges, and the rule about never climbing on the railings was frequently disobeyed.
The punishment was swift and effective, meted out by a huge bosun who constantly patrolled the decks. Plucking off the offenders, he administered a good spanking, popped a sweet in the squalling mouths and sent them on their way. The railings were swiftly abandoned as climbing frames.
A sort of order began to emerge as the days passed. Meals were taken on benches in the vast dining room where long trestle tables stretched from one end of the room to the other. The food was nutritious, if a bit predictable, and consisted of stews that were served from huge tureens and accompanied by rice. But there was always fruit to be had, on the strict understanding that not a banana skin, bit of peel or apple core – indeed, absolutely nothing – should be tossed overboard. An enemy plane could spot the floating jetsam and pinpoint their position for their submarines.
With so many children on board the noise was deafening, and it was soon decided to rope off an area of the deck for them so they wouldn’t disturb everyone else. It was also decided that they should have two hours of schooling a day, and Sarah and Jane volunteered to help the teachers, who were rather swamped by the sheer number of pupils. Jane did sums with the little ones, while Sarah helped with reading and writing, but it was all very pleasant, for they sat beneath large awnings on deck as the cool breeze drifted from the sea.
Shipboard life was peaceful and ordered, and Sarah enjoyed being kept busy as she helped in the dining room, taught the children and organised deck games with Jane and some of the older girls. And then, just as she was starting to feel more relaxed about things, the women were gathered together in the dining room one evening, and told by the grim-faced Captain that Singapore had fallen and that the Japanese were now advancing on Java, Sumatra, Borneo and Indonesia.
A deep despondency fell over everyone, and it seemed that the blackout on board was more profound than ever that night, and down in the hull there was the sound of muffled sobbing as the women wept over the unknown fate of their men.
Sarah had comforted Jane by telling her that their parents would have escaped in time, but once Jane was asleep, Sarah shed her tears into her pillow. She so wanted to believe that her mother had managed to get on a ship out of Singapore before the fall – and that Philip and her father had somehow managed to avoid capture. There were junks and sampans everywhere, yachts and motor boats at anchor in the Marina that surely could be put to use as a means of escape. Thousands of small islands surrounded Singapore – perhaps they’d managed to evade the Japs and were even now sailing towards safety.
She knew in her heart that it was wishful thinking, but she refused to listen to that small voice of reason and doggedly remained hopeful – for if she gave in to doubt, she would be lost.
Determined to keep their spirits up, she and Jane volunteered for even the most menial of tasks, and at the end of each long, hot day they would fall asleep almost the moment their heads touched their pillows, exhausted from their toil and lulled by the steady thrum of the ship’s great engines.
There were women they knew from Kuala Lumpur and Singapore on board, and it seemed the will to survive and overcome adversity with as little fuss and complaint as possible had infected them too, and soon everyone was putting on a brave face and making the best of things.
The routine on board rarely changed, with school in the morning, daily boat-drill and the occasional talk given by someone who had an interesting tale to tell. As friendships were made and the women organised themselves, the atmosphere lightened and it felt as if they were on a cruise. Everyone seemed to have their special place to sit on the decks on their emergency bundles rather than their life jackets, as they could be quickly damaged in the hot sun. And as the ship drew ever closer to Ceylon, there was an air of excitement which was quite infectious, for few of them had ever been there.
Chapter Thirteen
Cliffehaven
The precious time had slipped away and now it was Jim’s last day at home. Peggy was trying her best to remain positive and cheerful – and to indelibly print the images of those treasured few hours in her mind so she could relive them whilst he was away.
But the reminders of his leaving were everywhere – in the Home Guard uniform she was pressing; in the highly polished boots that waited on a square of newspaper by the door; in the kitbag and rifle that stood in the corner of their bedroom – and in the empty spaces on their dressing table where his brushes and nail-kit had always been.
Jim and Ron seemed to be dealing with this dreaded departure in their own inimitable way. They had left the house very early and returned with sacks of coal hidden beneath a large square of lino they’d draped over the wheelbarrow. They’d cut logs, stacked them next to the shed and covered them with a tarpaulin to keep the rain off, and then laid the new lino in the kitchen. Jim had actually fixed the rattling window and made a draught excluder with an old stocking that he’d stuffed with newspaper, and then nailed on the bottom of the bedroom door.
Then he’d spent an hour just sitting with Daisy in his lap, watching her every move, as if he too was trying to absorb these memories to carry with him – and as Peggy watched in amazement, he did something she’d never seen him do before. He changed Daisy’s nappy and then warmed the bottle of milk she always had in the mornings now, and fed her. Once she was asleep, he’d tucked her into the pram, and then carried it down the steps so that he and Peggy could take their youngest daughter for an amble down to the seafront.
‘I’m going to miss this old place,’ he said as they sat on a stone bench and stared out at the sea. ‘Funny, isn’t it?’ he mused. ‘You don’t really appreciate things until you’re about to lose them.’ He put his arm round Peggy’s shoulder and drew her close. ‘I’ve not been the best husband in the world, but I do adore you, Peggy Reilly.’
She could feel the tears prick as she rested her head on his broad shoulder. ‘You’re the best husband I’ve ever had,’ she said lightly, ‘and I adore you too.’
He tipped back his head and roared with laughter. ‘And how many husbands is it that you’ve had, Peggy?’
She grinned up at him. ‘Just the one – but that is more than enough. You’re a handful, Jim, and always have been, but I wouldn’t change you for the world.’
They sat for a while longer and watched the waves roll like mo
lten glass over the shingle as the gulls swooped and hovered on the wind and clouds gathered on the horizon. Peggy shivered, not from the cold, but from sudden dread of what the future might hold for them both.
‘Are you cold?’ asked Jim as he pulled up her collar and kissed her nose.
‘I am a bit,’ she said. ‘We’d better get back before it starts to rain. Look at those clouds coming in.’
Jim pushed the pram up the steep hill and carried it back indoors. Peggy went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea and was surprised not to see Cordelia in her usual chair by the fire. And, as she made a couple of corned beef sandwiches for their lunch, she realised the house seemed too quiet altogether.
Jim seemed to notice it too. ‘I’ve never known the place so quiet,’ he muttered as he lit a cigarette. He shot her a crafty smile. ‘Perhaps we should take advantage of being alone for once – I need to check those repairs on the bedroom window.’
She slapped him playfully with a tea towel and would have taken him up on his offer if the kitchen hadn’t been invaded at that moment by Cordelia, Fran, Suzy, Rita and Ron, who were all looking suspiciously pleased with themselves. ‘What are you all up to?’ Peggy asked.
‘Well, now,’ said Fran, ‘as this is to be Jim’s last night at home, we thought you deserved a special treat.’
‘So we’ve got you tickets for the theatre matinee of Noël Coward’s Blythe Spirit,’ said Cordelia breathlessly.
‘And we’ve arranged for you to have a drink in the interval,’ added Suzy.
‘But you’re not to be stopping off anywhere on the way home,’ warned Ron. ‘We have a special treat for you here after the show – and you can’t be late.’
Peggy blinked away her tears as Jim tried to embrace everybody at once. Cordelia didn’t seem to mind being crushed and kissed, and she went pink as she giggled and slapped his arm playfully. Ron hugged his son, his eyes suspiciously bright, and Harvey tried to join in this wonderful new game and ended up with his nose being sharply slapped as it probed up Fran’s skirt.
Order was finally restored and Rita looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘The show starts in three hours,’ she said, with a teasing light in her eye. ‘If you want to look handsome and debonair, Uncle Jim, then you’ve just about enough time.’
‘Ach, you cheeky wee girl,’ laughed Jim. ‘I’ll show you – see if I don’t.’ He grabbed Peggy’s hand. ‘Come on. Let’s get our glad rags on and leave them to whatever it is they’re planning. It’s clear they want us out of here.’
Peggy and Jim emerged from their bedroom almost an hour later to discover that the house was deserted – and that even Daisy had been whisked away. ‘But what about her afternoon feed?’ Peggy fretted.
‘They’ll give her a bottle, never you mind. She’s getting used to it, so she is, and with two nurses to look after her, she’ll not want for a thing.’
Peggy knew he was right, but it would feel strange not having Daisy with her – they hadn’t spent more than the odd hour apart since she’d been born.
Jim looked down at her appreciatively. ‘That colour blue really suits you, Peg. You’re a good-looking woman, so y’are, and I could eat you up.’ He closed in on her and threatened to muss her hair and smudge her lipstick. ‘As they all seem to have gone out, why don’t we risk a quick one before we leave?’ he murmured.
She playfully pushed him away. ‘You’re impossible, Jim Reilly,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I’ve not dressed in my best two-piece suit and hat for you to take it all off again.’ She giggled at his woebegone expression. ‘Now, pass me my overcoat and find your hat, and then we can be off.’
Peggy tucked her hand in his arm as they headed down Camden Road. Her heart was so full of love for him that it almost overrode the fear that curled inside her. Jim was such a handsome man – tall, straight and broad-shouldered in his best suit and smart overcoat, his fedora placed just so over his right brow, his dark eyes repeatedly looking down at her as if she was the most beautiful woman in the world. He made her feel special, treasured and cherished, and the thought that it could be many months, perhaps even years, before they would walk down this street together again made her want to cry.
Jim seemed to read her thoughts and he tucked her hand even more firmly into his arm and squeezed it. ‘This is our day,’ he said softly as they reached the bottom of the High Street, ‘and nothing is allowed to spoil it. D’ye hear?’
She nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat.
‘Good girl,’ he murmured. ‘Now, we’ve time for a wee drink in the Ship before the show starts. Come on, Mrs Reilly, best foot forward.’
The one drink turned into two as friends crowded round them to wish Jim well, and Peggy had to drag him out so they wouldn’t be late for the show. They just made it before curtain up, finding their seats in the stalls as the lights dimmed.
Peggy watched Jim’s profile repeatedly as the comedy slowly unfolded. She loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and was glad he was enjoying himself. It was rare for them to go to the theatre together, and it was a real treat – a very special and thoughtful gift from the others.
They enjoyed the drinks that were waiting for them in the bar at half-time, and held hands like two young lovers as the play continued. And when it was over, they stood with the rest of the audience and clapped enthusiastically.
‘That was fun,’ said Jim as he settled his hat back on his head and gave her his arm once more. ‘I never thought I’d like that sort of thing, but it’s as good as Laurel and Hardy any day.’
It was bitterly cold and they walked quickly through the blackout towards home, their footsteps echoing in the almost deserted street. Beach View looked as if it was all in darkness too, but then the blackout curtains would keep out even the smallest chink of light.
Jim put the key in the lock and frowned as they stepped into the hall. ‘Where is everyone?’ he asked. ‘And why are all the lights off?’
And then the lights came on and people poured down the stairs and out of the kitchen and dining room. ‘Surprise!’ they yelled in unison.
Peggy and Jim were stunned as they were surrounded by their friends and relations. There was Frank and Pauline, Anthony, little Sally and her husband John Hicks with their son Danny, Alison Chenoweth, Suzy, Fran, Rita and Cordelia, as well as Fred the Fish and Alf the butcher with their wives. And then, bounding down the steps in a flurry of frills and petticoats and straight into her father’s arms, came their daughter, Cissy.
‘Oh, me darlin’ girl, ’tis pleased I am to see you,’ Jim murmured as he held her tight.
‘Well, I couldn’t just let you go off, could I?’ she said, tossing back her fair hair and widening her big blue eyes in the theatrical way she’d always had. ‘And I’ve brought Martin along too, but he’s busy with Grandpa Ron at the minute.’
Peggy hugged her beautiful, vivacious daughter and noted she was getting too thin. ‘Aren’t they feeding you properly at the airfield?’ she asked.
Cissy laughed. ‘Of course they are, but I do so much running about after my Air Commodore that it doesn’t have time to stick to my bones.’
Peggy frowned, for Cissy had always been rather flighty. ‘Your Air Commodore? Not another conquest, surely?’
Cissy giggled. ‘He’s old enough to be my father,’ she assured her mother. ‘But he’s my boss now. I’ve been assigned to drive him everywhere and take notes when he has important meetings – and he’s the sort of man who’s on the go all the time. I have a really hard job keeping up with him.’
Conversation soon became almost impossible as everyone tried to talk at once, and Peggy began to wonder where Daisy was, and how on earth they would get everyone into the kitchen without it turning into a game of sardines.
And then the dining-room door was flung open and Ron and her son-in-law stepped into the hall. Ron was in his best suit and looked quite respectable for once, but Martin looked absolutely splendid in his RAF uniform.
He twirled his handlebar moustache and called for order. ‘If our honoured guests, Mr and Mrs Reilly, would please step this way,’ he said in his plummy tones, ‘there is a special surprise awaiting them.’
Peggy and Jim looked at one another and grinned excitedly before linking hands and stepping through the door. They gasped in delight, for the room had been transformed.
The excess furniture had been cleared, the floor swept, and the tables put together to form a T. There was a fire burning brightly in the hearth, and the curtains had been rehung to hide the ugly plywood which had been nailed over the broken windows. The dust had been cleaned from the old paper chains, and a tiny Christmas tree stood in the corner, glittering with tinsel and baubles. White linen cloths covered the tables, candles flickered in jam jars down its length, and each place setting had a paper napkin tucked into a wine glass.
‘Oh, Martin, Ron,’ Peggy breathed, the tears almost blinding her. ‘How very, very lovely.’
‘To be sure, you’ve worked wonders,’ breathed Jim as he took it all in. ‘That has to be the hardest day’s work you’ve done in a long time, Da,’ he teased.
There was a muffled giggle from the other side of the room and a curtain twitched as someone hushed the giggler.
Peggy’s eyes widened. She’d know that giggle anywhere.
She ran across the room and flung back the curtain to be immediately swamped by Anne and her two boys. ‘Oh, Bob, Charlie, Anne. Oh, my darlings.’ She burst into tears as she tried to kiss all three at once. ‘How you’ve both grown,’ she managed as she held them close. ‘Bob, you’re taller than me, and Charlie, you’ve put on weight – and Anne, oh, Anne.’
‘Let the dog see the rabbit,’ boomed Jim as he swept the boys into his embrace and whirled them round. ‘To be sure you’re too big to be lifted any more,’ he panted as he set them down moments later. He looked at his boys with such love and pride that Peggy simply couldn’t stem the tears.
‘But how did you manage to get travel permits at such short notice?’ she asked Anne as she accepted a handkerchief and tried to dry her eyes.
