As the Sun Breaks Through

by Ellie Dean

  ‘Are you sad to be leaving?’ asked Peggy.

  ‘In a way,’ Sarah replied. ‘I made some lovely friends there, and I shall miss not seeing them every day.’ She smiled. ‘But at least I won’t have to wear that bulky uniform again – or walk all that way twice a day.’

  ‘I have a friend who works at the Town Hall who might know of a job going,’ said Peggy. ‘I could telephone her, if it would help.’

  ‘Thank you, Aunt Peggy, but there’s no need. I’ve already been down to the labour exchange and landed a secretarial post in the Council offices.’ She grinned in delight. ‘I start tomorrow.’

  ‘Good for you,’ breathed Peggy, giving her a hug. ‘My goodness. You don’t let the grass grow under your feet, do you?’

  Sarah giggled. ‘Not if I can help it.’

  Peggy was tempted to ask how she was coping with her decision to end things with Delaney and wait for Philip to come home – and managed to stop herself. The girl seemed quite happy, and she didn’t want to spoil her mood by asking too many questions.

  ‘Where’s Doris?’ she asked, finishing her supper.

  ‘Upstairs,’ said Rita. ‘She was acting very strangely when she got back,’ she added with a frown.

  Peggy’s attention sharpened. ‘Really? In what way?’

  ‘In a nice way, and with a smile that looked genuine enough,’ said Rita, still frowning. ‘She actually asked me how I was coping with my leg in plaster, and if I’d heard from Dad.’

  ‘She sat and talked to me too,’ said Cordelia, not to be outdone, ‘and offered to make us both a cup of tea.’ She pursed her lips. ‘She’s either a very good actress or she’s had some sort of miraculous change of attitude. Either way, it’s most unsettling.’

  ‘She’s had the most awful day, Cordelia,’ said Peggy. ‘I suspect she just wanted a bit of company to take her mind off things.’

  ‘Then why isn’t she down here with us instead of shut away up there?’ retorted Cordelia.

  ‘She’s just lost Ted,’ Peggy reminded her, ‘and has had to attend the service for her dead friends. She’s probably exhausted by it all. I know I would be.’ Before Cordelia could make her opinion of Doris any clearer, Peggy forestalled her by turning to Rita. ‘You were going to tell me about this idea you and Peter had to make Cordelia’s life easier.’

  ‘I was telling Grandma Cordy about it this afternoon,’ said Rita, drawing several sheets of butcher’s white paper from the table. ‘Me and Pete are both good with mechanical things, and he remembered an American pal telling him about something that might be really useful in helping Grandma Cordy up and down the stairs. So I went to the library to do a bit of research and we came up with this.’

  Peggy regarded the rough drawing of a simple chair and footrest sitting on a sturdy sort of platform which was fixed to four metal rollers that slotted into two lengths of metal. These metal shafts were fixed firmly to a solid metal bar which was pinned to the bannisters. Next to the seat of this contraption was a handle, which seemed to be attached to a small motor beneath it.

  ‘Good heavens,’ breathed Peggy. ‘Is it quite safe? What if it goes too fast and throws Cordelia out?’

  ‘The motor would be a small one, so it won’t be able to go too fast, and of course there’s a brake on the handle, like the ones you get in lifts. All Grandma Cordy would have to do is pull on it to stop it.’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Peggy. ‘It’s all a bit new-fangled and dangerous-looking.’

  Rita smiled and placed a large book in front of her. ‘Actually, it’s not a new invention at all,’ she said, selecting a page with a similar diagram on it. ‘This was invented by Mr Crispen in America in the 1920s.’ She turned another page. ‘And this article here discusses the likelihood that the servants used a series of pulleys on a chair to haul Henry the Eighth to the upper floor of his palace when he was too fat to walk,’ she added triumphantly.

  Peggy eyed the precarious collection of ropes and pulleys and turned back to the more modern version of what Crispen had called his ‘Inclinator’. ‘Goodness, are you sure you and Peter are capable of building such a thing? Wouldn’t it be better to club together and try and buy one?’

  Rita laughed and shook her head, making her dark curls bounce on her shoulders. ‘It would cost the earth and have to be brought over from America. Peter and I have been tinkering with motors and suchlike since we were both kids, so of course we can build it, although it could take a bit of time now he’s so involved in the invasion.’

  Peggy eyed the drawing and then the photograph in the library book. ‘Well, if you’re sure,’ she murmured, still not totally convinced. ‘Will it make a horrid mess of my stairs, though?’

  Rita shook her head. ‘We’re going to build it in a corner of the fire station and test it on the stairs to the office before we set it up here. Any mess we make, we’ll clear up, I promise.’

  ‘Now that I would like to see,’ teased Peggy. ‘I can’t remember the last time you tidied anything, let alone your room.’

  Rita threw her arms round Peggy’s neck and hugged her. ‘I do love you, Aunty Peg, but you really are the worst worrier. Our stair climber will work, you’ll see.’

  Peggy hugged her back and then reluctantly got to her feet. ‘Where are the other two?’ she asked. ‘They should have been home by now.’

  ‘Fran’s out with Robert for her tea, and Ivy’s gone to the Crown with Andy to have tea with his Aunt Gloria,’ said Rita. She shot Peggy a mischievous grin. ‘I still find it hard to think of Gloria Stevens being anyone’s aunt – she’s too … too …’

  ‘Loud and brassy,’ piped up Cordelia, who wasn’t afraid of calling a spade a shovel.

  ‘I’m going up to see if Doris needs anything,’ said Peggy, unwilling to get caught up in a discussion about Gloria’s many failings, for despite being brassy and loud, she had a good heart and would give her last shilling to anyone who needed it, and Peggy rather liked her.

  She left the kitchen, peeked in to make sure Daisy was sleeping soundly, and then went up to the first floor. She hesitated outside the door, preparing herself to face whatever Doris might throw at her next, and then knocked and entered as Doris called her to come in.

  Doris was sitting in the armchair by the gas fire, wrapped in Peggy’s old dressing gown, with her feet propped on the dressing stool and her face clean of make-up. ‘Hello, Peggy,’ she said, rising to her feet and shooting her a hesitant smile. ‘I was hoping you’d come to see me.’

  Peggy warily closed the door behind her, noting with a glance that the room was back to how it had been before and that it was as neat as a pin. ‘You’re obviously tired and ready for bed,’ she said, ‘but I thought I’d just pop in to see how you were and if you needed anything.’

  Doris quickly perched on the stool, indicating that Peggy should take the chair. ‘It’s been a long and very difficult day,’ she admitted, ‘and although I’m not yet really ready to face the others downstairs, I’d appreciate it if you would keep me company for a little while.’

  Peggy could see the shadows of sorrow and weariness beneath her sister’s reddened eyes, and because she looked so down, decided to stay. ‘It was the most awful news to get, especially today of all days,’ she said, offering her packet of Park Drive. ‘I honestly don’t know how you coped with the service and everything.’

  ‘I didn’t cope at all,’ Doris confessed, lighting their cigarettes with her gold lighter and then turning to stare into the sputtering flames of the gas fire. ‘I’m finding it very hard to believe I’ll never see Edward again. That he won’t suddenly come through that door or telephone me, or turn up with my week’s groceries.’

  Her voice broke and Peggy could see she was making a stoic effort to steady herself and not break down. ‘I can only imagine how you must be feeling,’ Peggy said, ‘so I won’t upset you further by spouting the usual platitudes. I know that if it had been my Jim I’d have wanted to shut myself away from the world too.’

/>   Doris continued to stare into the flames as she smoked her cigarette. ‘I knew I’d really lost him when he started seeing Martha,’ she said after a moment. ‘But to lose him so utterly and so suddenly like that is very hard to take.’ She turned her gaze to Peggy. ‘I did love him, you know,’ she murmured, ‘and if I hadn’t been so proud and full of myself, he’d still be here, alive and with me – and we could have weathered this awful upheaval together.’

  Peggy remained silent, for she understood Doris’s pain at losing Ted. She’d felt the same way when her darling Jim had been posted to India. It had been like a death to see him leave – and as the months and years had rolled on she’d come to realise how deeply she adored him and how so much of her life was bound up with him. But Doris had realised too late what Ted had meant to her, and that was the most tragic thing of all.

  Doris stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray and folded her hands in her lap. ‘I realised something today, Peggy,’ she said quietly, ‘and I want to apologise. My behaviour towards you over the years has been unforgivable, and I’d like you to know how very much I care for you, and appreciate all you’ve done for me.’

  ‘Oh, Doris,’ sighed Peggy. ‘You don’t have to apologise.’

  ‘Indeed I do. I’ve run roughshod over your feelings, disparaged your family, your home and your work at the factory. I’ve been mean with my time and mean with my words, and I wouldn’t at all blame you if you threw me out.’

  ‘I’d never do that,’ gasped Peggy. ‘I know I threatened it, but it was only because you wound me up like a clock and I bust a spring.’ She realised what she’d said and giggled. ‘You know what I mean.’

  Doris’s returning smile was wan. ‘You have a forgiving heart and a generous soul, Peggy,’ she said. ‘There’s been many a time when I’ve wished I could be more like you.’

  Peggy regarded her in some confusion. This was not the Doris she’d fallen out with ever since she could remember – not the cold, sneering woman who’d bossed her about and flaunted her wealth at every turn – but a softer, gentler, repentant Doris who seemed so very eager to put things right between them.

  Had she experienced an epiphany? Had the shock of the V-1 and the loss of Ted made her realise how tenuous life was, and this was her way of trying to make amends before it was too late? Peggy didn’t know the answer, but, like Cordelia, she was wary, for Doris had made such overtures before and then reverted to being a cow at the first opportunity to take umbrage.

  Doris straightened her back and took a deep breath. ‘I realise you must be wondering why I’m talking to you like this, and I don’t blame you for doubting my sincerity. After all, this is hardly the first time we’ve tried to heal the breach between us, and I’ve always been the one to spoil it.’

  Peggy regarded her sister evenly, not yet prepared to be taken in by this new Doris. ‘This isn’t all about losing Ted, is it?’ she said finally. ‘What else happened today?’

  Peggy listened as Doris told her about the humiliation she’d suffered at the memorial service and reception, and felt quite ill at the thought of how awful it must have been for Doris to have abandoned a lifetime of control to rush off like that. Peggy had always thought of Wally Chumley as a jumped-up barrow boy with too much money and an over-developed sense of self-importance, but at least he’d had the grace to talk to Doris, and for that she was grateful.

  ‘Oh, my dear,’ she sighed, reaching for her hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  Doris actually smiled. ‘Don’t be sorry, Peggy. It was a revelation, and I wish I’d listened to your advice to avoid them years ago. You see, I’ve finally realised you were right. I don’t belong with them, no longer want to or ever will after today.’

  ‘You’ve said that before,’ Peggy reminded her gently.

  ‘I know. But now I’ve seen them for what they really are, and quite honestly want nothing more to do with them.’

  Peggy didn’t really believe that, and suspected that the minute one of them telephoned asking her to do something she’d be over there like a shot. But she said nothing. Only time would tell if this improved and determined Doris could keep up her good intentions.

  ‘Something else far more important happened today, Peggy,’ said Doris, ‘and after learning about Edward and going through that ghastly charade this lunchtime, it came as a real hammer blow.’ She delved into her handbag and pulled out the wad of paper.

  Peggy frowned. ‘What’s that?’

  Doris smoothed the papers with her hand and left them in her lap. ‘After leaving the reception I decided to go and see our solicitor to inform him of Edward’s death and to find out what I should do about a funeral, or at least some sort of service.’ She licked her lips and reached for her cigarettes. Having lit one for each of them, she abandoned the papers and nervously began to pace back and forth.

  ‘Edward and Martha were married at the registry office on the Thursday morning before they left for London on their honeymoon the following Saturday,’ she said flatly. ‘How they got travel permits, I don’t know, but that’s neither here nor there,’ she continued with an impatient wave of her hand. ‘Anyway, it turns out he’d made a new will, leaving some money to Anthony, the house to me, and the rest of his estate to Martha, who’d also left a will leaving everything to her elderly parents.’

  Peggy could see by Doris’s expression that this wasn’t going to end well, but said nothing as it was clear her sister needed to release all the pent-up feelings she’d been harbouring throughout the day.

  ‘As you know,’ Doris continued, ‘Edward has always played the stock market, and until recently had been very successful at it – which was why he could afford to buy the house, give me a generous settlement on our divorce and a healthy monthly allowance.’ She took a shallow, quavering breath. ‘But playing the stock market is merely a polite way of saying he was a gambler, and he got over-confident and began to take risks.’

  She puffed furiously on her cigarette and then mashed it out in the ashtray. ‘The losses began to mount up, and the bigger they got, the more high-risk stocks he bought to try and recoup.’ She folded her arms tightly about her waist. ‘It’s all gone, Peggy,’ she managed, her voice breaking. ‘Every last penny.’

  Peggy stared at her in horrified disbelief. ‘But what about your settlement and the house? I thought he’d turned the deeds over to you after the divorce?’

  ‘The settlement’s safe, thank goodness, I’ve barely touched it. As for the house, he never got round to it,’ she said bitterly, ‘and as I trusted him, I didn’t think it was something I needed to worry about. But it seems he used it as collateral two months ago, and took out a huge mortgage on it to cover his debts to his broker and make further investments.’

  Her mouth twisted in disgust. ‘He might have left me the house in his will, but it wasn’t his to pass on. The bank owns it, and all the government compensation I was hoping for will go straight there – and of course my monthly allowance will stop.’

  Peggy was reeling from the shock of learning how devious Ted had been, and took her hand. ‘Oh, Doris, you poor love. How awful for you. I can’t imagine what Ted was thinking of to write a will like that when he must have known he had nothing to leave.’

  ‘He wasn’t expecting to be killed and probably thought he had the time to make enough to pay back the bank loan without me ever knowing what he’d done.’ Doris gave a tremulous sigh. ‘It just goes to show that you never really know a person, even if you’ve been married to them for over thirty years,’ she said sadly. ‘But even now, after all he’s done, I do mourn him, Peggy, and so wish we’d been able to sort things out between us. Perhaps then he might have been more cautious in his dealings.’

  Peggy doubted that, for once a gambler, always a gambler, and Ted had proved to be devious in the extreme. She folded her arms around her sister and felt her trembling as she held her close. ‘You’ll always have a home here, Doris,’ she murmured.

  Doris hugged her back and then
gently eased away. ‘Thank you, Peggy. I promise that from now on I will do my very best not to make you regret your loving generosity. But I will not be a burden to you. I shall pay you for my board and keep from the settlement, and find a job.’

  Peggy stared at her in undisguised shock. ‘A job? You?’ she managed.

  Doris shot her a wan smile. ‘There’s no need to look so shocked,’ she said. ‘I’m quite capable of doing accounts and seeing to office administration – even though I might be a bit rusty – and don’t forget I was trained as a secretary and have been doing Lady Chumley’s charity accounts for years.’

  ‘Well, good for you,’ breathed Peggy, stunned at her sister’s stoicism in the face of such upheaval. ‘I have a friend who works in the Town Hall,’ she offered for the second time that evening. ‘They’re always looking for good secretaries now most of the young women have joined up in the services, and I’m sure if I spoke to her she’d put in a good word for you. At least it would save you the humiliation of having to go to the labour exchange.’

  Doris blinked back her tears. ‘There’s no end to your kindness, is there?’ she managed. ‘Oh, Peggy, I’ve been such a cow. Can you ever forgive me?’

  ‘Of course I can,’ she replied, giving her another hug. ‘Just don’t wind me up by pinching my Jim’s dressing gown again and we’ll get along just fine.’

  9

  Peggy had confided in Ron and the others about Doris’s plight the previous evening, and although Doris had upset each of them in the past, they seemed genuinely sorry that she’d received such a life-changing blow, and promised to be extra nice to her. But when Peggy had told them Doris would be looking for work, none of them believed anyone would dare take her on, and if they did, that she’d put everyone’s back up and last less than a day. Determined to prove them all wrong, Peggy fretted over the problem through the night.