Always in my Heart (Beach View Boarding House 5)

by Ellie Dean

  She tucked Daisy into her pram and struggled to get it down the cellar steps and into the back garden. Feeling rather light-headed, she sank into a deckchair and waited for the feeling to pass. It was a beautiful late April morning, with the birds singing and the sun shining down warmly onto the vegetable patch. Summer was almost here and the Germans hadn’t bombed Cliffehaven for weeks, although there had been some raids close by and several false alarms which had sent them all scurrying into the Anderson shelter.

  Peggy closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of the warm sun on her face. It was peaceful this morning, but she knew that as the day waned and darkness fell the RAF would be leaving their airfields in droves to continue their relentless night bombing of northwestern Germany and France. Night after night they’d heard them flying overhead, and each time she’d wondered if Martin was up there and prayed that he and all the other brave boys made it home safely. And yet so many of Bomber Command had never made it back, and the odds on any of them surviving had shortened dramatically.

  She heaved a deep sigh and got to her feet, cross with herself for sitting about getting morbid when she had better things to do. Checking that Daisy didn’t have the sun on her face, she plodded up the cellar steps and hunted under the sink for the bucket and scrubbing brush. The new kitchen lino was filthy, and she’d been meaning to give it a good scrub since yesterday morning.

  Peggy had finished the kitchen and made a start on the hallway tiles when Cordelia came back from Camden Road with a string bag full of shopping. ‘You look worn out,’ said Peggy as she took the bag and helped her off with her coat.

  ‘I could say the same thing about you,’ said Cordelia, regarding her evenly. ‘Why don’t we both sit down and have a cuppa?’

  ‘That sounds like a good idea, but mind your step – the floor’s still wet.’ She followed Cordelia into the kitchen and put the kettle on the hob before rummaging in the string bag. ‘Goodness,’ she gasped. ‘Sausages and a joint of pork?’

  Cordelia beamed. ‘It’s Monday, Peggy, and Alf slaughtered one of his uncounted pigs yesterday – he thought we might appreciate a treat.’

  Peggy was smiling as she quickly stowed the precious meat on the top marble shelf in her larder and shut the door so Harvey couldn’t get to it. A great many people now kept livestock, and the inspectors from the Ministry of Food would count them and oversee their official slaughter and then take half the animal away, explaining that it was necessary because of the rationing.

  No one ever found out what happened to this meat, and there was a deep suspicion the inspectors ate it – so on Sundays, which was their day off, there would be an unofficial slaughter of the uncounted beasts by the breeders so they could keep the entire proceeds of their labour.

  Peggy’s mouth was already watering at the thought of roast pork, and the dripping she could spread on toast with lashings of pepper and salt – although there wasn’t any pepper to be had now, and the salt was getting low. She made the tea and had just sat down to enjoy it when someone rapped the knocker on the front door. ‘I’ll go,’ she said quickly. ‘You’ve done enough for one day.’

  The plump little woman on the doorstep looked vaguely familiar, but Peggy couldn’t place her. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Reilly?’ At Peggy’s nod, she gave a sigh of relief. ‘You obviously don’t remember me, but we have met once before. I’m Olive Farmer, Amelia Fuller’s neighbour.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Peggy and she smiled in recognition of the nosy neighbour. ‘Won’t you come in? We’ve just made a pot of tea, and that’s quite a walk you’ve had all the way from Mafeking Terrace.’

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ she said as she wiped her sensibly shod feet on the doormat. ‘I could do with a cuppa and no mistake.’

  Peggy noticed how her eyes were taking in everything as she slipped off her coat, but she said nothing as Peggy led the way into the kitchen. ‘Cordelia,’ she said clearly. ‘This is Amelia’s neighbour, Olive Farmer.’

  Olive stuck out her hand. ‘Pleased to meet you again after so many years, Cordelia. I don’t get out much these days, but I remember you used to help do the cricket teas when our husbands were playing for the local team.’

  Peggy saw to the tea as the two elderly ladies reminisced. Something important must have brought Olive here, and she was intrigued as to what it could be. She placed the cup and saucer by Olive’s elbow and put a few biscuits on a plate – they’d been in the tin for quite a while and were a bit stale, but she was sure they wouldn’t mind, as biscuits were such a rarity these days.

  ‘It’s nice to see you again, Olive,’ said Cordelia as she sipped her tea. ‘But I suspect you haven’t come all this way to talk over old times. Has something happened to Amelia?’

  The woman’s bright expression faded and she fiddled with her teaspoon. ‘I’m sorry, Cordelia, I’m afraid it has.’ She set the cup aside. ‘She’d been acting strangely for some time, and we all put it down to her getting old and crotchety like the rest of us. But she began shouting at anyone who walked by, and actually assaulted the poor postman with a frying pan when he knocked on her door to deliver a parcel.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Cordelia. ‘That doesn’t sound right at all – even for a bossy woman like Amelia.’

  ‘We realised something was very wrong when she began to wander barefooted down the street in her nightdress, saying she was on her way to open up the school. She got quite violent when I tried to coax her back indoors, and in the end I had to call the doctor.’

  ‘She’s lost her mind, hasn’t she?’ said Cordelia, her voice wavering. ‘How sad. How very sad. Poor Amelia.’

  Olive nodded and patted her hand. ‘She’s safe now. The doctor got her into a very good nursing home, and she’ll be well cared for there. I have the address if you’d like to visit her, but it is some way further down the coast.’

  ‘There doesn’t seem much point,’ sighed Cordelia. ‘My sister and I have never really got on, and it’s been years since we spoke. She probably won’t know who I am anyway, if she’s that confused.’

  Cordelia twisted the handkerchief in her trembling fingers. ‘I feel sorry that she should come to this, and more than a little guilty that I didn’t at least try to make things better between us. But I have to confess I didn’t like her one bit, and the way she treated my nieces just confirmed to me what a nasty woman she could be.’

  ‘She was certainly her usual acerbic self when they came knocking on her door. I remember her telling me how she despised people who turned up unannounced wanting help when their precious lives abroad had been disrupted. She couldn’t stand foreigners, you know, and regarded anyone who lived abroad as beneath her contempt.’

  ‘That all started when she fell in love,’ said Cordelia softly. ‘He was a handsome fellow, I remember, and she was certain that he was about to ask her to marry him. But he had no plans to get married and was in fact going out to India to work as a Government administrator. Amelia was not only heartbroken, but furious – convinced she would become a laughing stock amongst her peers.’

  Cordelia gave a deep sigh. ‘She refused to see him again before he left, but he’d clearly regretted the way they’d parted, for he wrote her many letters, begging her to forgive him, and asking her to go to India where they could be married. He came back three years later having found life in India rather too dangerous with all the fighting going on, and Amelia refused even to speak to him. She had never forgiven him, you see.’

  ‘How sad,’ murmured Peggy.

  ‘Yes, it was,’ replied Cordelia, ‘but Amelia only had herself to blame.’ She looked across at Olive. ‘Thank you for taking the trouble to come all this way. I do appreciate it.’

  ‘Well, there were one or two things which I thought you should have. With the bungalow empty, it didn’t seem wise to leave this lot lying about.’ She pulled a great wad of papers from her large handbag and dumped them in Cordelia’s lap before digging deeper and drawing out two small j
ewellery boxes.

  Cordelia opened the boxes. ‘Mother’s pearl earrings, and her wedding and engagement ring,’ she sighed as she looked at them tenderly. ‘I’m glad she kept them.’ She closed the boxes and riffled through the official-looking letters and documents before setting them aside. ‘I’ll read through those later,’ she said.

  ‘There was something else,’ said Olive as she reached into her handbag again.

  Cordelia and Peggy stared at the two airmail letters which were unmistakeably addressed to Sarah and Jane. ‘But these must have arrived weeks ago,’ breathed Peggy as she examined the dates franked across the stamps.

  Cordelia’s expression was grim as she held the flimsy blue letters. ‘Amelia knew where I was,’ she said flatly. ‘She also knew the girls were trying to find me, and could have easily sent these on.’

  Peggy’s heart went out to her, for it must be awful to realise how cruel her own sister had been.

  Cordelia’s lower lip trembled as she carefully placed the precious letters on the mantelpiece. ‘Those girls were desperate to know what happened to their parents – and all the time my spiteful sister kept these to herself.’

  She turned to face Peggy and Olive, the anger sparking in her eyes as colour flooded her cheeks. ‘I’m not usually vengeful,’ she said unsteadily, ‘but at this very moment I feel furious enough to kill her. How dare she do that to my poor little girls?’

  Peggy couldn’t think of anything to say, and Olive was looking exceedingly uncomfortable. She gathered up her bag and gloves. ‘I’d better get back home,’ she said as she got to her feet. ‘The tram will be at the end of Camden Road in fifteen minutes, and I don’t want to miss it.’

  She hurried into the hall and let Peggy help her with her coat. Thanking her for the tea, she hurried away and Peggy closed the door and returned to the kitchen.

  Cordelia was sitting in her usual chair and staring into the fire. ‘Olive Farmer always was nosy,’ she muttered. ‘I bet she couldn’t wait to get into that bungalow so she could rummage about.’

  ‘It’s a good thing she did,’ said Peggy as she freshened the tea with more boiling water. ‘Otherwise we would never have known about those letters.’

  Cordelia looked up at Peggy and gave her a sweet smile. ‘I can’t wait to see their faces when they come home,’ she said delightedly. ‘Do you think Ron could be persuaded to give us a bottle of something from the pub to celebrate?’

  ‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ replied Peggy. ‘But it might be wise to put any celebrations on hold until we learn exactly what is in those letters.’ She put a gentle hand on the older woman’s shoulder. ‘It might not all be good news, Cordelia.’

  Her smile faded and she nodded. ‘You’re right,’ she murmured. ‘Oh, what a terrible world we’re living in, Peggy,’ she said with a wavering sigh. ‘When will we ever feel safe again?’

  Peggy put her arm around her and held her close. There was no answer she could give, only a warm embrace and the silent assurance that she would never have to bear these awful times alone.

  Sarah walked happily up the hill and stood for a moment to appreciate the view. She never tired of it, even though she saw it every day, and the blue of the sky and the sparkle on the water seemed to welcome her.

  ‘Hello, sea,’ she murmured. ‘You’re looking very pretty today.’

  Smiling at her silliness, she swung the gas-mask box from her hand and continued across the ridge. It had been a strange sort of day, but great fun, for the Americans had spotted them hiding in the rhododendrons and had insisted they come out and introduce themselves.

  She had been quite surprised at how silly the other girls had become with their giggling and flirting, and was getting a bit worried that they’d all get into fearful trouble if the officers caught them. Not wanting to be a part of this fawning, silly gaggle of girls, she’d discreetly left them to it. She had no interest in flirting, and certainly didn’t want any of those Americans thinking she was the sort of girl who swooned at the offer of a stick of chewing gum.

  She was behind her desk when she heard the forestry foreman thunder past in his truck, and moments later he was bellowing at the girls to get back to work. Peeking out of the window she saw them scurrying back into the forest, still giggling. They didn’t seem at all put out, and were no doubt already arranging to meet some of the Yanks after work.

  Sarah was still smiling as she continued on her way. The handsome two-star General had come to her office to introduce himself, and she had welcomed him calmly and offered him a cup of tea. The sophistication of years of living in Malaya had served her well, for her mother had insisted she socialise from a very young age, and two-star generals were not a challenge.

  He’d turned out to be quite charming, talking of his wife and family back in New Hampshire, and his hopes that their arrival wouldn’t disrupt the routine of the estate too much.

  She reached the steep slope that led down to the alleyway between the houses, eager to tell the other girls about the invitation to a cocktail party at the mansion the following night. It might be fun for all of them, but most of all it would be interesting to see how Rita reacted to such an invitation. She was a strange, rather prickly little thing, but she had a marvellous sense of humour, and if she could be persuaded to put on a dress for a change, she would be quite pretty, she was sure.

  ‘Hello, Sarah.’

  She looked up and waved at her sister, who was approaching Beach View from the other end of the lane. Jane had been taken on part-time by Solomon’s factory to deal with the accounts for three hours every afternoon, and Sarah still couldn’t quite come to terms with how smart and grown-up she was looking now in her skirt and blouse, a cardigan draped over her shoulders and her hair coiled fetchingly off her face. Her little sister was slowly blossoming into the young woman she was meant to be, and Sarah’s heart swelled with pride.

  ‘You were so deep in thought you didn’t even see me,’ said Jane, and laughed as she tucked her hand in the crook of her arm. ‘Had a good day?’

  Sarah nodded and told her about the arrival of the Americans and the invitation to the cocktail party the following evening.

  ‘What fun that will be,’ said Jane, her face alight with enthusiasm. And then she came to an abrupt halt. ‘But what on earth can we wear?’ she breathed. ‘Neither of us has anything suitable for a party – and besides, won’t it be a bit dangerous going over the hill late at night?’

  Sarah shrugged. ‘I’m sure we can borrow something from one of the others – if not, we’ll just have to make do with what we have.’ She opened the back door and pressed a finger to her lips. ‘As for transport, the General promised to send a jeep to pick us up and ferry us home,’ she whispered, ‘but don’t say anything until everyone’s home from work. I want it to be a complete surprise.’

  They went up the steps into the kitchen to find it deserted. Daisy was cooing in her pram, which Peggy had parked in the hall, but all was still. Assuming Peggy was upstairs waking Cordelia from her afternoon siesta, they quietly made their way to their bedroom and Sarah pushed open the door to find Peggy sitting waiting for them.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind me coming in here when you were away,’ she said quickly, ‘but I thought it would be best if I gave you these in private.’ She handed them the letters with a short explanation and quietly left the room, closing the door behind her.

  Sarah dropped her gas-mask box on the floor and they both sank onto the nearest bed. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she murmured as she held the two letters and saw they’d been addressed to Amelia. ‘We’ve waited so long and now I’m almost frightened to read them.’

  ‘If you don’t open one, then I will,’ said Jane impatiently. ‘Mummy must be desperately worried that we haven’t replied, and I want to know why she’s in Queensland and not here.’

  Sarah chose the earlier letter, eased it open, and began to read it out.

  My darling girls,

  I am writing this
in the hope that it will get to you somehow, for we received no reply from Jock’s telegram to the great-aunts. My thoughts have been with you from the moment I recovered from the fever, and I pray each day that you got to England safely and are being well looked after.

  As you can see by the address, I have managed to get to my parents’ home in Cairns, and will stay here until the war is over and we can all be together again. I won’t go into too many details, suffice it to say that your baby brother, James, arrived earlier than planned and your father managed to get both of us on one of the last ships leaving Singapore. I so desperately wanted to be in England with you, but I had no choice – and I count myself lucky that the ship was going to Australia and not South Africa. At least I’m familiar with things here, but you must be finding it very strange having to settle in a different country where everything must seem confusing.

  I have had no news from your father, or from Philip, my darlings. The last time I saw them was on the docks in Singapore as my ship, the Narcunda, set sail. They looked very forlorn standing there and we were all in tears, for none of us knew when we might see one another again – or indeed if we would ever see each other again. The Japs were fast approaching the causeway by then, and all hell was breaking loose as their bombers tried to sink every ship in the harbour. The ship behind us was torpedoed, so the Narcunda set sail immediately and made a run for it, hiding behind one of the islands overnight to return and pick up the last few women and children that had been left behind. It was a terrible time for everyone – a time of tears – a time of dying and of farewells. I can only pray that Jock and Philip come through, but it is in God’s hands now Singapore has fallen.

  I love you, my darlings, and know that you will stay strong throughout this time of uncertainty and do the best you can. The mail is erratic, and I don’t know how long this will take to reach you, but I long to hear from you.