by Ellie Dean
Doris nodded, and once he’d lit the cigarettes, they sat in contented silence to watch the moon slowly rise beyond the hills.
That Sunday morning, none of them were quite as chipper as they’d been the night before when they’d returned from the Anchor to find Cordelia asleep with the cat on her lap, the dog snoring on the rug, the wireless hissing with atmospherics, and the sherry bottle suspiciously depleted.
Peggy had fretted that Cordelia was too old and inclined to hit the sherry when she was on her own and therefore not terribly reliable as a baby-sitter – but the old lady had quickly woken up and seemed to be fully in charge of her wits as she’d relayed Charlotte’s news.
‘That last sherry to celebrate the twins’ arrival was a step too far,’ Peggy groaned as she swallowed an aspirin with her morning tea. ‘Thank goodness it’s Sunday and I don’t have to go to work.’
‘I’ll be on duty again tonight,’ sighed Fran. ‘Roll on next week when I get a whole day off.’
‘Have you set a date yet?’ asked Sarah. ‘Only the churches have to call the banns and they’re very busy at the moment.’
‘We’re having a civil wedding at the Town Hall on the twenty-second of September,’ Fran replied. ‘The church won’t marry us because we’re of mixed religions.’ She grinned at Peggy’s furious expression. ‘There’s no use you getting all hot under the collar, Aunty Peg. That’s the way it is – and we’ll have a wonderful day despite all that.’
‘But it’s all very soon,’ fretted Peggy. ‘What will you wear, and how on earth will we get enough coupons together to give you both a good send-off?’
‘Robert’s mother sent me a photograph of her utterly gorgeous wedding dress, which she’s adapting to fit me, and he’s already applied for extra wedding rations.’ She kissed Peggy’s cheek. ‘Stop clucking, you wee mother hen. Everything will be fine, I promise.’
‘Have you thought about where you’ll live after you’re married?’ Peggy asked.
Fran looked suddenly uneasy. ‘We’ve talked about it, of course, but there’s no married quarters at the Fort where he works, and the nearest place we can find is a bed-sit fifteen miles outside the town.’
Peggy wanted to help, but she wasn’t sure if Fran was actually asking for it, so kept quiet.
Fran fiddled with the teaspoon. ‘Robert shot round to Gracie’s place to see if he could take it on when she left for Dover, but it was already gone.’ She took a breath. ‘We were wondering if perhaps—’
‘Of course you can,’ Peggy butted in eagerly.
Fran grinned. ‘Ach, Peggy, you don’t know what I was wondering.’
‘That top-floor room is empty now Ivy and Rita have gone back to their old one – and it’s plenty big enough for two.’ She reached for Fran’s hand. ‘It’s not much to start married life in, but it’s yours if you want it.’
Fran threw her arms about Peggy. ‘Oh thank you, thank you. You have no idea how much this means to both of us.’
‘Well, I couldn’t let him carry on sleeping in the barracks at the Fort whilst you stayed here on your own, could I?’ said Peggy. She chuckled. ‘I’m just glad I can help. I was dreading you leaving.’
Fran’s green eyes were bright with tears as she withdrew from the embrace. ‘I do love you, Aunty Peg.’
‘I love you too,’ she replied, patting her cheek. ‘Now you go and telephone Robert and then get to bed.’
Fran was about to leave when Danuta came into the room and gave them a little twirl.
The plain blue dress, with its white starched collar and cuffs, was cinched in at the waist by a broad white belt with a smart silver buckle. A red cardigan was draped over her shoulders, and a perky little white cap sat on her short dark hair. Black shoes and stockings completed the outfit. ‘I look like proper nurse?’ she asked.
‘You most definitely do,’ said Peggy, amazed at how suddenly she’d turned from a waif into a young woman. ‘But where’s your apron?’
‘I will collect it from the surgery along with my medical bag and bicycle,’ she replied. She grinned in delight. ‘I am very excited,’ she confessed. ‘This is big day for me.’
Fran gave her a hug. ‘You’ve earned it, Danuta. But it’s all hard work from now on, believe me.’
‘I know. And that’s what I am looking towards.’
‘Good luck, then. I’ll see you later,’ said Fran, rushing off to telephone Robert.
‘Will you find time to pop in to see Charlotte and the babies?’ asked Peggy, pressing Danuta into a chair for some breakfast.
‘I will try. But I do not know how long my list is today.’
Peggy told her about Robert and Fran taking over the top room whilst Danuta drank a cup of tea and nibbled the edge of a piece of toast. Peggy could see she was nervous, but there was excitement too, and she just knew that Danuta was more than ready to take on this new phase in her life.
Danuta hugged and kissed Peggy, and then ran down the steps into the garden. The morning was glorious, and she felt as if she had wings on her heels. It was a new day and a new start, and she would be doing what she loved best – of course she couldn’t help but smile at everyone on a day like today.
23
The liberation of Paris seemed to have given hope and added determination to those who were fighting to bring an end to Hitler’s tyranny. As August ended and September began with the welcome news that the blackout was now to be a dim-out, every house, office, pub and shop kept the wireless on as victories, uprisings and astounding advances by the Allies were reported.
There was an uprising in Slovakia, the Russian troops took Bucharest, and the Allies liberated Verdun, Dieppe, Artois, Rouen, Lyon, Abbeville, Antwerp and Brussels. Finland and Russia agreed to a ceasefire – the British troops took Ghent and Liège, and the Canadians finally overcame the Germans at the Ostend garrison. By the 9th of September, the Americans had liberated Luxembourg; the first Allied troops entered the German border town of Aachen, and two Allied forces met at Dijon, effectively cutting France in half.
Great expectations were roused when Operation Market Garden began with a vast Allied airborne assault on Arnhem in the Netherlands, for if successful, it would secure vital bridges and roads into the heart of Europe and bring an early end to the war. Brest fell to the Allies, Nancy was liberated by the Americans and the British troops liberated Rimini in Italy.
No one was actually taking any notice of the wireless that Thursday night, for Fran’s wedding was the following day, the kitchen at Beach View was bustling, and there was a great deal still to do if things were to run smoothly. The preparations had started days before, and Peggy was very grateful to the government for the extra food stamps, but they were a meagre amount to say the least, and if it hadn’t been for Doris, Rosie, Frank and Robert’s mother, Delia, donating some of theirs, the table would have looked very bare.
Peggy took the last of the sausage rolls out of the oven and quickly placed them in the larder to cool well away from Queenie’s inquisitive nose. There had been lots of baking in several kitchens during the past few days, with Rosie making little cheese and egg tarts, sugared buns and fruit scones – which didn’t have much fruit, but looked delicious. Doris had made fruit tartlets with the apples and plums from her garden, and would put the finishing touches to her raspberry and loganberry trifle in the morning. Delia was in charge of the wedding cake.
Robert’s job with the MOD had allowed him to travel with Fran up to Warwick so she could meet his mother, and by all accounts they’d got on famously. Peggy had yet to meet Delia, but they’d exchanged letters and Peggy felt she already knew and liked her.
She’d been enormously supportive when Fran’s parents had turned their backs on her, and had entered into the spirit of things by offering her precious wedding dress, which had arrived in a large box the week before. No one had been allowed to see it, and Fran had confided in Peggy that she’d locked it in the top room wardrobe and hidden the key so that Ivy and Rita’s dreadfu
l curiosity didn’t lead them into temptation.
‘I hope Delia’s train arrived on time and that she didn’t have too much trouble bringing the cake and everything,’ Peggy muttered, glancing at the clock.
Fran paused in the act of dying Rita’s legs with cold tea. ‘Robert’s probably on his way with her now and I’m sure she guarded the cake with her life,’ she replied. ‘Now will you stop fretting and sit down, Aunty Peg. You’ve been on the go all day and I don’t want you tired for tomorrow.’
Peggy sat down and grinned at Cordelia, who was twittering away like an over-excited little sparrow as Danuta painted her nails bright scarlet. ‘We’re never too tired for a wedding, are we, Cordy?’
‘Indeed not,’ she chirped. ‘It’s no good being tired when you want a good cry. And I do so love weddings,’ she added on a sigh.
Peggy lit a cigarette and regarded them all with deep contentment. The arrival of Charlotte’s twins and Kitty’s little Faith had already brought great joy to Peggy, but a wedding perked her up no end, and she could see from the animated faces that the girls were delighted to be a part of it all.
Fran was like a sister to them, and because her own family was being so mean, they’d pulled out all the stops and paid for her to go to the beauty parlour tomorrow morning to have her hair and nails done, and sweet Cordelia had used up all of her clothing coupons on a set of silk underwear and nightgown for the honeymoon they had yet to know about.
Peggy couldn’t help but smile, for when Doris discovered they’d planned to spend a single night in a local hotel before spending the next two days at Beach View, she’d consulted with John White and they’d managed to book a whole weekend in the bridal suite of a posh hotel just outside Brighton. Now the travel restrictions along the south coast had been lifted, things were very much easier, and they’d all heaved a sigh of relief that Delia would be able to attend the wedding, and not have to risk sending the cake in the mail.
However, the generosity didn’t end there, for Rosie had got together with Stan from the station, who’d raided his allotment for the finest roses to go into her bouquet, which was now keeping fresh in the scullery sink, and she would be hosting the reception in the afternoon at the Anchor. Ron had paid for a barrel of beer, and with permission from Rosie, had gone to the Crown and bought several bottles of black-market champagne from Gloria. Kitty and Charlotte had spent many hours making the most magnificent patchwork quilt for their bed, Bertie Double-Barrelled would drive them in his car to and from the ceremony, and Fran’s nursing colleagues had clubbed together to buy a dinner service for when they set up their own home. As for her gift, Peggy had discovered that lace wasn’t rationed and didn’t need clothing coupons, so she’d bought several yards and made a veil during her lunch break at work.
Now Peggy smoked her cigarette and waited her turn to have her legs painted, although they were already fairly well tanned from the sun. Cordelia sat waving her little hands about to dry her nails, Ivy was drawing a line up the back of Rita’s leg with an eyebrow pencil, and Sarah was now painting Fran’s legs. Peggy wondered how Sarah was feeling about it all, for it couldn’t have been easy for her when her heart was in one place, her duty in another.
And what was going on behind Fran’s lovely smile – was she thinking of how this day might have been if her parents and family were here? The girl had confided in her that the decision to defy her parents and marry Robert had been the most difficult thing she’d ever been faced with, and Peggy knew she’d spent many a sleepless night worrying about it. But the wedding was now only hours away, and those doubts must be returning. If only Fran’s parents had been less adamant. Ireland wasn’t so very far, but at the moment, Peggy suspected, it must have felt to Fran that it was a world away.
The door knocker rapped and Peggy whipped off her apron and headscarf, patting her hair into place as she went to answer it. Delia stood on the doorstep armed with a large cardboard box and a broad smile. ‘Hello, Peggy. We meet at last. Sorry, can’t shake hands, rather taken up with other things at the moment,’ she said breathlessly.
‘Let me take that,’ said Peggy. ‘It’s lovely to meet you too, although I feel I already know you through your letters and what Robert has told us.’ She glanced over her shoulder at the little black Austin sitting at the kerb. ‘Isn’t Robert coming in?’
‘He thinks it’ll be unlucky to see his bride the night before, silly boy,’ said Delia with a roll of her eyes. ‘I won’t be able to stay long, as he’s promised to wait and take me back to my hotel.’ She stepped into the hall. ‘Oh, what a lovely house,’ she continued in a breathless rush. ‘Now where’s this famous kitchen I’ve heard so much about?’
Peggy giggled. ‘It’s far from famous and in utter chaos at the moment, as you can imagine. But come on in and meet everyone.’
‘Goodness me, what fun you’re all having,’ said Delia, clapping her hands in delight. ‘And the kitchen is exactly how I imagined it, all cosy and lovely.’
Hardly pausing to take a breath, she turned to Fran. ‘Hello, darling,’ she said, giving Fran a kiss on her cheek and a quick hug. ‘My goodness, you’re going to make a beautiful bride with that gorgeous complexion and pre-Raphaelite hair. My Robert is a very lucky man.’
‘To be sure, that’s what I keep telling him,’ said Fran impishly before making the introductions.
Delia unbuttoned her dark blue linen suit jacket and reached for the box which Peggy had managed to find room for on the cluttered kitchen table. ‘Now, I don’t want you getting too excited,’ she warned. ‘It’s not a patch on the sort of wedding cakes we had before the war, and is rather small, but I did manage to get hold of some of the most important ingredients from a local chap who always seems to have everything – but at a price.’
She finally took a breath and lifted the lid.
They all gasped in wonder. The cake was small and square, but quite exquisite. The smooth white icing had been draped over it and brought to points at the corners, each one finished off with a golden material tassel, just like a pillow. At the centre was a spray of perfect white silk roses and green ferns, and nestled amongst them were tiny figures of a bride and groom.
‘It’s magnificent,’ breathed Peggy. ‘But how on earth did you get hold of that icing?’
Delia giggled and tapped the side of her nose. ‘I got mixed fruit and marzipan as well, but when you know a man who knows a man …’
They all laughed. ‘That sounds like our Ron, God love him,’ said Fran. ‘He’s definitely the man in the know around here.’
Delia frowned. ‘Where is Ron? I was so hoping to meet him tonight.’
‘He’s helping Rosie at the Anchor,’ said Cordelia. ‘But he’s on strict instructions to be home before midnight – and sober. He has an important job to do tomorrow.’
Delia nodded and squeezed Fran’s hand. ‘It will all be wonderful, my dear, I’m quite, quite sure. Now I must dash. Poor Robert’s waiting in the car and he’s supposed to be meeting some of his friends in the hotel bar for a last bachelor party.’ She must have seen Fran’s concern for she quickly added that the best man was a very sober sort and wouldn’t let things go too far.
Peggy accompanied her to the door and waved to Robert, who was leaning against the Austin’s bonnet smoking a cigarette. ‘We’ll see you tomorrow,’ she said to Delia. ‘And thanks for the wonderful cake.’
‘It’s me who should be thanking you for giving them a home to start out in,’ said Delia solemnly. She kissed her cheek. ‘Goodnight, Peggy.’
Peggy closed the door, feeling quite breathless herself after the whirlwind that was Delia. Returning to the kitchen, she put the cake away in the crammed larder and drew out a bottle of Gloria’s illicit champagne that Rosie had given her earlier.
‘Who’s for a glass of bubbly before bed?’
Rosie had been a bit quiet all evening, which was unusual, and Ron had a suspicion he knew why. He cupped her face in his hands as they stood in the hall, and ki
ssed her. ‘All this talk of weddings isn’t getting to you, is it?’ he asked.
‘It is a bit,’ she admitted. ‘I wish it was us, of course I do, but I do understand why you want to have Jim and the rest of the family home to enjoy it with us.’ She twisted the ring on her finger. ‘It’s just that we’ve wasted so much time already.’
He held her close. ‘I know I’m not being fair, Rosie,’ he admitted, ‘but we’ve waited this long, a couple of months more will pass in a flash.’
She pulled away from him. ‘It’ll be longer than that, Ron,’ she said solemnly. ‘Hitler’s not about to surrender and we’ve yet to take Berlin. What with this new flying gas-pipe rocket everyone’s talking about, and the awful struggle our troops are having at Arnhem, the war could drag on for ages yet.’
Ron was about to speak when she hurried on. ‘And even if it ends in Europe tomorrow, there’s still the war in the Far East and the Pacific, and Jim could be stuck over there for months before he’s demobbed – and then it will take at least six weeks for a ship to bring him home.’
Ron saw that she cared more about delaying their wedding than he’d realised. ‘Let’s wait and see how things go – and if it looks like it will carry on after Christmas, we’ll make new plans.’ He kissed the tip of her nose and smiled. ‘Come on, Rosie, don’t look so glum. We’re together now and a piece of paper won’t really make much difference.’
She looked for a moment as if she was about to argue, then relented and gave him a hug. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ she said on a sigh. ‘We’ll talk about it at Christmas.’
He gave her a lingering kiss goodnight and then strolled home with Harvey, who was feeling very much more like his old self now he’d lost the cone and his stitches had healed.
It was a lovely late September night, with a clear sky and still just enough warmth in the air to remind him of the summer. A few of the streetlights had been turned on now the threat of bombing raids was over and the blackout at an end, and he could see the glimmer of pale lights and shadows of people moving about behind the thin curtains where there had once been a blind darkness.