As the Sun Breaks Through

by Ellie Dean

  ‘I’ve got some 4711 eau de cologne,’ she said. ‘But please be sparing with it. There isn’t much left, and it’s impossible to get hold of now.’

  Doris’s lip curled. ‘I’m not surprised. It’s German and even the most unpatriotic woman wouldn’t dream of using it.’

  ‘Well, it’s been around long before Germany kept declaring war on everybody,’ said Peggy with some asperity. ‘Jim gave me that bottle over five years ago, and as it’s all I have, you’ll just have to either lump it or leave it.’

  ‘I’d rather go without,’ said Doris with a sniff.

  Rita came in from the hall and shed her jacket. ‘It’s horrid out there now there’s wind and rain,’ she said, dumping the jacket and her crutches on a nearby chair as she sat down at the table and shook the damp from her dark curls. ‘It’s bad enough this war’s dragging on, but we could have done with some decent weather for a change after such a foul winter and spring.’

  Peggy poured her a cup of tea. ‘Warm up by the fire, dear. I’m sure the weather will improve soon.’

  Rita sipped the tea and studiously ignored Doris, who was looking askance at her leather jacket and shabby old skirt and jumper. ‘By the way, Aunty Peggy, I thought Ron was planning to be with Rosie this morning?’

  Peggy frowned. ‘He said he was – why?’

  ‘I’ve just seen him and Bert Williams go into the back alley on the way here. Both of them were looking very serious.’ She looked nervously at Peggy. ‘You don’t think something’s happened, do you?’

  ‘Rosie’s probably sent Ron off with a flea in his ear for waking her so early, and Bert’s more than likely just coming in for a cuppa to avoid going home to his awful wife,’ said Peggy, going across to lean over the sink and look out of the rain-streaked window.

  But what she saw didn’t look like a social visit, for despite the appalling weather, both men were standing by the gate, deep in conversation, their expressions grim. Her heart missed a beat then began to thud, and she found she could barely breathe as all her fears rose to smother her. There was a stoic purpose in their steps as they approached the scullery door – and it could only spell trouble – serious, terrible trouble.

  ‘Please, please don’t bring us bad news,’ she whispered, grabbing hold of the back of a chair and almost falling into it as her legs gave out on her.

  ‘What’s happening, Peggy?’ asked Doris in alarm. ‘Why have you suddenly gone so white?’

  Peggy couldn’t answer, and sat there dumb with dread as Ron and Bert came stony-faced up the steps into the kitchen. She felt Doris’s hand on her shoulder and Rita trembling at her side, but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the two men standing before her.

  ‘It’s not Jim,’ said Ron immediately. ‘And it’s not your dad either, Rita.’

  Peggy let out the breath she’d been holding as Rita burst into relieved tears and Doris started to protest at the fright they’d given them all.

  Bert stepped further into the room and cut off Doris’s protest. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Williams, but this arrived at the police station this morning.’

  Doris took the brown envelope with trembling fingers and fumbled to draw out the telegram. She scanned the few words on the slip of paper and then let it flutter to the floor as she sank slowly into a chair. ‘No,’ she breathed. ‘It can’t be right. They’ve made a mistake.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Williams,’ said Bert, ‘but there’s no mistake, I’m afraid. I telephoned the London police station when I received this, and got confirmation that Mr Edward Williams’s body was formally identified late last night.’

  He shuffled his feet, his face pale with anguish as Doris stared at him. ‘He was one of over twenty victims to be killed in a series of V-1 attacks on London almost a week ago, which is why it’s taken so long to identify some of the victims and inform the next of kin.’

  Doris regarded him in bewilderment. ‘But what was he doing in London? How could he possibly have got there with all the travel restrictions in place?’ Her face was bleached of colour beneath the carefully applied make-up, her eyes huge and dark with shock and disbelief as she shook her head. ‘You’ve got it wrong, Sergeant. It couldn’t have been Edward.’

  Bert cleared his throat and studiously kept his gaze fixed to his size twelve boots. ‘I can’t rightly say how he got there or what he was doing in London,’ he rumbled. ‘There was speculation that he might have been staying in the hotel that took the direct hit – or he could simply have been passing by, or eating in a nearby restaurant or pub. It was a busy street, you see, and the V-1 obliterated everything in the explosion.’

  Doris shuddered, and twisted her handkerchief in her lap. ‘Was he alone?’

  ‘Don’t torture yourself by asking such questions,’ urged Peggy, putting her arm about Doris’s shoulder. ‘How could anyone know that if … if it took so long to identify the victims, and the damage was so … complete?’ Her words faded into silence.

  ‘I need to know,’ Doris replied, shrugging off Peggy’s hand and fixing her gaze on the policeman. ‘Sergeant, I have a right to know. Was he alone when he was found?’

  Bert looked to Ron for guidance, but received only an encouraging nod. He took a deep breath and met Doris’s glare. ‘It’s impossible to say,’ he said miserably. ‘It was a scene of carnage according to my London colleague, and I’m sorry, Mrs Williams, but not all of the bodies could be identified because … because there wasn’t much left of them after the blast and following firestorm.’

  ‘Come on, Doris,’ urged Peggy. ‘You’ve seen what that V-1 did to Havelock Road, and you know they only managed to identify your women friends because you told the firemen who was in the house at the time.’ She hugged her to her side, feeling her resist and stiffen. ‘Ted’s gone, Doris. It’s time to mourn. Not to ask questions.’

  Doris wrenched away and stood up. ‘Tell me, Sergeant, was there any other victim amongst those identified who came from outside London?’ She took a steadying breath as she saw him hesitate. ‘To put it more clearly, Sergeant; was Edward the only victim from Cliffehaven?’

  ‘No,’ he said reluctantly, his gaze directed everywhere but on Doris. ‘That’s not to say they were together, though,’ he added hurriedly.

  ‘It was Martha Holbrook, wasn’t it?’ rasped Doris.

  Bert gasped. ‘How did …?’

  ‘So it was her,’ she snapped.

  He dipped his chin and went scarlet. ‘I’m afraid so, yes,’ he muttered. ‘But that doesn’t mean—’

  ‘It certainly does mean exactly what I’ve suspected for months,’ said Doris, tightening the belt on the borrowed dressing gown whilst making a concerted effort to remain calm. ‘Thank you for coming to tell me, Sergeant,’ she said stiffly. ‘Now if you will excuse me, I have to prepare for my friends’ memorial service. Good day to you.’ She brushed past Peggy and walked quite steadily out of the room, her head held high.

  Peggy dithered, not knowing what to do. ‘Should I go to her, Ron?’

  He shook his head. ‘She hasn’t really taken it in yet, I don’t think. Besides, I suspect she’s more upset that he was with Martha when he died, than over his actual passing. There was little love lost between her and Ted, and they had been divorced for a while.’

  ‘She’s a cool one, I’ll give her that,’ said Rita with a shudder.

  ‘I’d better get over to the other family,’ said Bert, clearly uncomfortable with the situation as he buttoned up his heavy raincoat.

  ‘Have a cuppa before you go, Bert,’ said Ron. ‘It’ll steady your nerves and keep you warm on that long walk to the Holbrooks’ place.’

  ‘Thanks, old chum,’ he replied. ‘I could certainly do with one before I have to face Martha’s parents.’ He sank into a kitchen chair and unfastened his coat again. ‘Goodness knows how they’ll take the news. They’re old and getting frail and depended on Martha for everything.’

  Peggy was only vaguely aware of the conversation going on around her, fo
r she was listening to her sister’s steady footsteps on the stairs and suspecting that her cool façade was for show. Doris was all about keeping up appearances and would never reveal her true feelings in front of others. She’d keep it locked inside her until the news had sunk in, and that would be the time for Peggy to offer consolation and comfort.

  ‘What about Ted’s son, Anthony?’ she asked Bert. ‘He’ll have to be told.’

  ‘I sent a telegram before I came here. Hopefully the local bobby will deliver it personally as I instructed. Suzy will no doubt be at home alone with the baby, and I just hope the bobby stays with her until Anthony can get there.’

  Peggy nodded, glanced at the clock and then scooped up Daisy. ‘I have to go to work,’ she said fretfully. ‘Are you sure you can manage on your own with Cordelia, Rita?’

  ‘I’ll tell Cordelia,’ said Ron. ‘She hardly knew Ted, so she shouldn’t take it too hard, and if she’s feeling well enough, I’ll bring her downstairs where it’ll be easier for Rita to keep an eye on her whilst I’m out.’

  ‘Peter and I have had a brilliant idea about how we can make life easier for Grandma Cordy,’ said Rita, her eyes now shining with delight and not tears.

  ‘I’d love to hear all about it, dear,’ said Peggy, ‘but if I don’t get a move on I shall be late and have my wages docked.’ She wrestled Daisy into her coat and hat before donning her own raincoat and headscarf and kissing Rita’s cheek. ‘You can tell me this evening.’

  ‘It’s probably best you stay here tonight to keep an eye on Doris,’ said Ron. ‘I’ll see Danuta this afternoon and explain the situation.’

  ‘Thanks, Ron. I think you’re right.’ Peggy hurried down to the scullery to get Daisy in the pushchair and the rain covers clipped on. She could hear the wind moaning outside, and the splatters of rain on the back window and, like Rita, bemoaned the lack of a decent spring and summer which they so needed after the five long, dreary years of war.

  As she walked towards the clothing factory, her thoughts were filled with Ted – dear, kind, patient Ted, who’d put up with all sorts of nonsense from Doris over the years. He’d found the courage to leave her; to make his home above the Home and Colonial store he managed and live his life without being nagged. He’d been generous to a fault, providing Doris with evidence for the divorce, and giving her a large settlement as well as a monthly allowance so she could stay in the house and continue the same standard of living.

  Peggy couldn’t help but feel terribly sad for her sister, even though she was the most irritating, impossible woman to live with. Doris had ideas above her station and was constantly aiming for a higher social standing. She thought she was better than the rest of the family because she had a big house and posh clothes – and was bossy and overbearing to boot.

  But for all her money and lofty ambitions, she’d lost sight of the really important things. Her beloved son Anthony had married and moved as far away as possible to avoid her meddling in his marriage, which meant she had little contact with her grandson. She’d discovered that the stalwart Ted, who she’d barely had time for, had been having an affair for years – and refused to return home when it had ended. The separation and divorce had been bitter as it had caused scandal and derision within the spiteful coterie of women that Doris had aspired to join.

  Peggy’s shoulders slumped as she wheeled the pushchair down the road. Doris had weathered it all, but now those women were dead and dear, sweet Ted would never come home again. As for their own relationship, Peggy just couldn’t see a way for them to ever be close – or even friends – and the knowledge saddened her. They were chalk and cheese, and although Peggy felt deeply sorry for her, it was becoming increasingly difficult to put up with her rude and grasping behaviour.

  And yet Peggy also realised she would go on trying with Doris, for she was homeless – and now friendless – and Peggy suspected her sister had cared more for Ted than she’d let on. When the news of his passing had sunk in, Doris would need an enormous amount of support, for the manner of his death and the knowledge he’d been with Martha at the time would create emotional turmoil, leaving a terrible void in her life which she would find very hard to fill.

  Peggy’s footsteps faltered at the shocking thought she’d never see Ted or his bright smile again; never chat to him over the cheese counter, or share a pot of tea at her kitchen table. His loss was a hammer blow, and it would reverberate right through Cliffehaven, for Ted had been a popular man and an intrinsic part of the fabric of the town.

  She reached the factory gates and came to a brief halt. Perhaps she should go back to be with Doris after all, for surely she wasn’t really meaning to go to that memorial service today? The thought of her sister mourning alone tugged at her heart. What was the loss of seven hours’ pay compared to the loss of a husband – even if he had been estranged?

  ‘Mamma, wanna see Chloe. Come on!’

  Peggy resisted her daughter’s urging and peered through the rain to the far end of Camden Road, torn between wanting to be there for Doris and her duty to Solly, who’d been good enough to give her this machinist’s job when she’d hardly known how to thread a needle.

  And then just at that moment she saw Doris’s gleaming car coming towards her. She stared at her sister, who looked perfectly calm and relaxed in her mink coat and smart little hat as she turned the car into the High Street.

  ‘Well, if that doesn’t take the biscuit, nothing will,’ muttered Peggy, no longer resisting her daughter’s demands. If Doris could be that cool so soon after losing her husband, then there was no point in missing out on a day’s wages. As for Danuta, she would definitely be getting a visit from Peggy tonight.

  Doris had seen Peggy outside the factory gates, noted her stricken expression and chosen to ignore her. She was hurting so much she could barely concentrate on the road, let alone face her sister’s undoubtedly genuine sympathy. Peggy’s loving kindness would be her undoing, and she was determined to get her emotions under control before she had to face the others at the memorial service.

  She drove along the High Street and headed up the steep hill to the east of the town, half-blinded by the tears she refused to let fall. Yet her hands were trembling and great waves of anguish threatened to swamp her, and she suddenly realised that if she didn’t stop, she’d crash the car.

  Pulling into a lay-by on the brow of the hill that overlooked Cliffehaven, she switched off the engine and slumped in the leather seat. She felt cold to the core despite the mink coat, and when she tried to light a cigarette she fumbled so badly it took several attempts.

  Doris battled the tears as the rain hammered on the car roof and the windscreen misted over. She would not cry. Would not allow herself to weep and wail for a man who’d betrayed her so cruelly. She’d heard the whispers about him and Martha Holbrook, and although she and Ted had been divorced for over a year, it had come as a bitter blow to realise that what they’d once shared was well and truly over, for Edward had fallen hard for Martha, and was rumoured to be on the point of proposing to her. Perhaps he’d done just that, and they’d gone to London to celebrate?

  She shivered and sank deeper into the fur as she opened the quarter-light window to let fresh air in and the smoke out. Her heart clenched in pain as memories flooded back to haunt her. She should have been kinder to Ted and told him how she’d grown to love and admire him so very much over the years; forgiven him for straying and taken him back whilst he was still willing to make another go at their marriage.

  In the cold light of this grey, dismal day, Doris realised that it was only now that he was truly gone from her life that she could see she’d been too proud to admit she’d played a big part in the breakdown of their relationship; too hurt to forgive, and far too self-possessed to consider his feelings.

  The pain and anguish finally overwhelmed her and she buried her face in her hands and wept for all that she’d lost.

  7

  Burma

  The mood in the jungle camp was el
ectric, and Jim joined in with the massive cheer that went up at the news of the British and Indian Brigades’ victory at Imphal. ‘To be sure, Ernie,’ he shouted above the noise, ‘it’s true what they say about good things coming in threes.’

  ‘You’re right there, Jim,’ the smaller man replied, his face red and perspiring in the debilitating heat. ‘D-Day has come, we’ve got the Japs on the run, and to top it all we saw Vera Lynn.’ He took a slug of beer from the bottle and wiped his mouth on his arm. ‘The wife will be ever so jealous – she loves our Vera.’

  Jim grinned and concentrated on rolling a cigarette, which wasn’t an easy task when your fingers were sweaty and the cigarette paper tissue-thin. The night of Vera’s jungle concert had been an eye-opener, for he’d always considered her songs to be too soppy, which was why Peggy, Cordelia and the girls back home loved them. But seeing that tall, fair young lass on that makeshift stage singing her heart out to the accompaniment of a badly tuned piano and the joyous roars of the hundreds of servicemen had filled him with a deep sense of pride.

  Vera had braved a dangerous journey to be here in Burma, and it couldn’t have been easy for a young woman to cope with such adulation in the intense heat and humidity and with the lack of decent facilities. She must have been warned there were still pockets of Japs all around, and yet she’d turned up looking as fresh as a daisy and seemingly without a care in the world to sing for over an hour in that insect-infested jungle clearing, the men refusing to let her leave by shouting and whistling and begging for more.

  Jim lit his cigarette, the memory of that wonderful night three weeks before, still very vivid. The British stiff upper lip had melted under the spell Vera had cast, and Jim had been moved, not only by the songs which reminded him of Peggy and linked him with home and family, but by the way barriers had come down, and there was no shame amongst these battle-weary, hardened men as they shed a tear and clapped until their hands were stinging.