by Ellie Dean
The dim-out meant it was much easier to get about at night without the danger of walking into a lamppost or falling off a kerb or into a pothole, and Ron ambled along, contented with life, except for the niggling worry that perhaps he really was being unfair to Rosie by putting off their wedding.
There was no doubt the Germans were getting a pasting, and now the American Marines had landed on Palau Islands in the Pacific, the Japs would soon be on the run too. But Rosie had made a fair point when she’d said the war could drag on. The Allied troops were having a terrible time trying to oust the Germans from Arnhem, and Hitler clearly wasn’t yet ready to surrender, for now there were rumours of his new and deadly revenge weapon.
The government were being suspiciously evasive on the subject, telling the press that London had experienced several gas explosions – which had led the disbelieving people who’d witnessed the aftermath to call it a flying gas-pipe. However, as these unexplained explosions continued, and over a hundred people had been killed, others spoke of seeing a silent missile drop out of the sky to cause craters several feet deep and destroy everything within a mile. It was obvious to everyone that this was a different and deadlier form of the V-1 rocket. And yet the government continued to keep a press blackout on the matter – which, to Ron’s mind, meant the danger was very real.
He came to the end of Camden Road and decided to walk down to the promenade where the batteries of heavy guns had been increased to deal with the rockets coming across the Channel. Their numbers had been doubled along the headlands too, and were mostly successful in shooting down the V-1s before they reached England’s coast. Yet it would be impossible to hit a target they could neither see nor hear, and Ron could only hope that the advancing Allies would find the launching sites and destroy them before they did any more harm.
He breathed in the night air and watched the moon float above the water, making it shimmer and drift like golden silk. Perhaps he was being foolish to want his family around him when he married Rosie – after all, one of those new rockets could drop on Cliffehaven and they might all be dead by the end of the week.
He shook his head to dismiss the dark thought and turned for home, his mind once more on tomorrow. His best suit had been pressed, he’d let Fran cut his hair and trim his eyebrows, and Peggy had managed to get the egg stain out of his dark blue tie. He’d been honoured when Fran had asked him to escort her to the registry office at the Town Hall in place of her father, and he was determined not to let her down.
The kitchen had been in chaos when he’d left for the pub, but it was almost midnight now, so it was likely that the hullabaloo and carry-on would have died down. Everyone would be getting their beauty sleep, so it was probably safe to slip in and make a cup of tea before he went to bed.
The house was quiet, and he could see no lights at the windows except for a dim glimmer in the kitchen. He followed Harvey up the steps, his mouth watering at the thought of sneaking a couple of sausage rolls from Peggy’s larder to go with a cup of tea, and then realised he didn’t have the kitchen to himself at all.
Fran was in her nightclothes, curled in the fireside chair, the traces of tears on her cheeks as Harvey pawed at her lap and whined in concern. ‘Oh, Ron,’ she murmured. ‘I didn’t mean for you to catch me like this.’
‘What is it, acushla?’ he said, going to her and taking her hand. ‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you, wee girl?’
‘Not really,’ she said with a wan smile. ‘But I so wish Mammy and Da had given me their blessing. I miss Mammy,’ she managed as the tears threatened. ‘She should have been with me tonight.’
Ron perched on the arm of the chair and drew her to him so her head rested on his shoulder. ‘Aye, it’s a sad, sad business, acushla,’ he murmured, his heart heavy. ‘But choices have been made on both sides, and nothing will change unless one of you backs down.’ He put a finger under her chin so he could look into her eyes, which were swimming with tears. ‘What’s in your heart, wee Fran?’
‘To be sure, Ron, me heart is breaking with it all. I love Robert and want to be his wife – but I love my parents too, and if I go through with the wedding I shall lose them forever.’
‘Aye, but there’s still time to change your mind and put a stop to all this,’ he said softly.
‘I couldn’t do that,’ she gasped.
‘If it’s about dresses and cakes and presents, they can all be dealt with,’ said Ron. ‘But if it’s because you can’t bear to think of Robert standing amongst his friends and yours at the registry office, pacing the floor as he waits for you, watching the time and eventually realising that you’re not coming – then …’
He let the words hang in the air as he watched her expressive face, knowing those images were flashing through her mind. ‘That man has loved you from the first moment he saw you,’ he continued. ‘To be sure, it will break his heart – and yours too, I’m thinking.’
Fran wiped away her tears and took a shuddering breath. ‘The thought of doing that to him is a knife to my very soul.’
‘Then think on this, Fran. You’re a young, independent woman with a good career in nursing, who’s lived far from home for many years and never shown much enthusiasm for the church. This is about your future and what you want from it. Do you wish to return to Ireland after the war and spend that future without Robert, but with people who will only accept you if you toe the Catholic line? Or do you want to be who you really are and spend that future with Robert?’
‘With Robert, always,’ she replied.
‘There you have it then,’ he said, kissing her forehead. ‘Pre-wedding nerves get to us all, wee girl, and to be sure they can be awful. Now you wash your pretty face of those tears and go to bed. I shall be walking you into that registry office tomorrow afternoon, and I’ll not be wanting to see tears – unless they’re happy ones.’
Fran hugged him close. ‘Thanks for talking sense into me, Ron.’ She drew back and shot him a watery smile. ‘And if I can give you a bit of advice in return, it would be to marry Rosie very soon. You two were meant to be together, and as you’re not getting any younger …’ The smile turned into an impish grin.
‘Cheeky wee girl,’ he rumbled. ‘Off to bed before I set me dog on you.’
Fran laughed and patted Harvey’s head. ‘To be sure, that’s a terrible threat, isn’t it, Harvey? You’re such a fierce beast, that I’m afeared for me life, so I am.’
Harvey licked her nose.
24
Peggy had been up since six making sandwiches. She’d managed to sweet-talk the smitten Horace at the bakery to provide some lovely white bread which had cost her an arm and a leg, but had been well worth it, and as she sliced tomatoes, cucumbers, lettuce and Spam, spread fish paste, potted meat and mashed egg in with salad cream, she felt a rising bubble of excitement. Fran and Robert would have the best wedding tea possible, and it looked as if the weather was going to co-operate too, for the sky was blue and the sun was shining.
Having fetched the bread, Ron left to walk the dogs at seven. Danuta hurried off on her rounds, hoping to join them later at the reception, and everyone else was down in the kitchen by eight, chattering away and gulping down their Weetabix and toast as if they were half-starved.
Peggy happily bustled to and fro, but was a bit concerned about Fran, who looked rather washed out. ‘I expect all the excitement kept you awake half the night,’ she probed as Fran helped clear the table.
‘I slept very well,’ she replied, ‘but I’m terrible nervous, Aunty Peg. What if I forget me lines or mess them up? What if I trip over me dress or me knicker elastic goes in the middle of it all?’
Peggy laughed and gave her a hug. ‘Oh, Fran, you are a caution. If you’re so worried about the elastic, I’ll give you a safety pin. Now go and get dressed or you’ll be late for the hairdresser.’
An hour later, Peggy led a straggling parade down Camden Road. She was carrying the precious cake in its box, the girls each carried trays of san
dwiches and sausage rolls, and Cordelia had Peggy’s best white tablecloth and linen napkins in a bag. Little Daisy had been put in charge of the two silver-plated candlesticks that usually sat on the mantelpiece in the dining room, and they were nestled in a cloth bag to be put on the wedding table.
They arrived at the Anchor and trooped upstairs to Rosie’s kitchen, where her own baking had been set out. Doris arrived with her tartlets and trifle, and a ceremonial sword complete with fancy scabbard.
‘Goodness, where on earth did that come from?’ gasped Peggy.
‘John thought it might add a certain flair to the cutting of the cake,’ said Doris, going a bit pink. ‘It’s what they do at army weddings, apparently – and I have to say that cake certainly deserves some fanfare.’
‘You’d better not let Ron get anywhere near it,’ said Rosie. ‘He’s likely to start swishing it about after a couple of pints.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘He should be finished changing those barrels by now, so why don’t we all have a cuppa?’
‘That would be lovely, Rosie,’ said Doris, ‘but Peggy and I have an appointment at the hair-dresser.’
Peggy gaped at her. ‘But I have—’
‘No, you don’t,’ said Doris firmly. ‘All the work is done bar the shouting. Ivy has already said she’d mind Daisy, and it’s time you had a decent cut, shampoo and set. I’ve arranged for us to have manicures, too.’
‘Oh, Doris, I don’t know what to say – that is so lovely of you.’
‘Come along then. We don’t want to be late,’ Doris said crisply.
The hour and a half at the hairdresser’s had been a real treat and her hair and nails looked so lovely, Peggy was feeling relaxed and very smart indeed. It had also been really nice to sit and chat to her sister whilst she was being pampered – but now she’d have to hurry to get herself and Daisy dressed so that if Fran wanted her help in getting ready for her special day – and she really hoped she would – she’d be able to do so.
‘I don’t know how you managed to keep that appointment a secret,’ she said to Ivy.
Ivy grinned. ‘It were because it were for you,’ she replied. ‘You done so much for us, I was glad to be a part of the surprise.’
‘Bless you, dear,’ Peggy murmured
The house was bustling, with the sound of chatter, laughter and hurrying footsteps on the landing as the girls and Cordelia prepared for the most important part of the day. Peggy was wearing the same lovely blue silk two-piece suit that young Sally had made her for Anne’s wedding to Martin. The dark blue hat had been steamed back into shape, brushed and then freshened with a new ribbon around the crown. With shoes and handbag to match, Peggy felt confident that she couldn’t look any smarter.
Daisy was in her sweetest dress with Peter Pan collar and ruched bodice, a knitted cardigan, white shoes and socks and a sunbonnet tied beneath her chin by a pink ribbon. Peggy gave her a kiss. ‘Now try and keep clean,’ she begged before taking her into the kitchen where Cordelia was sitting at the table in a colourful lavender and white dress, with a lilac jacket, and a dinky white hat trimmed with real lavender set at a jaunty angle over her silvery hair.
Peggy sat Daisy down with a picture book and poured a cup of tea. She listened wistfully to the happy noise upstairs, wanting desperately to join in and spend a few minutes with Fran – but it seemed she’d been forgotten, and no doubt Sarah was helping her into her dress, for they’d become firm friends over the years.
Minutes later, Rita came flying into the kitchen looking utterly adorable in a sprigged cotton dress, her dark curls held back by a blue ribbon. ‘Fran’s asking for you,’ she said breathlessly.
Peggy was out of her chair and running up the stairs before Rita had time to catch her breath. She reached the top floor and tapped on the door. ‘It’s me, Fran.’
The key turned in the lock and Fran appeared, fully made up but still in her dressing gown. She grabbed Peggy’s hand, pulling her inside and slamming the door behind her. ‘Where have you been?’ she said anxiously. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to help me with my dress and veil.’
‘I thought … I was waiting …’
‘Oh, Peggy, as if I’d let anyone else help me today of all days,’ said Fran, giving her a hug. ‘You’ve been like a wee mother to me from the moment I arrived – of course I want to share this moment with you.’
Peggy’s heart swelled with love for this girl and she had to fight to keep her tears at bay – and then she caught sight of the dress hanging from the wardrobe door. ‘Oh,’ she gasped. ‘Oh, how beautiful.’ She hardly dared touch the long column of creamy white silk and lace that dipped at the back to form a short train.
‘Robert’s parents were married in India, and Delia had this dress made especially for her. But with all the buttons down the back it’s impossible to do it up on my own.’ She gave a wry smile as she touched the dress. ‘Delia had servants, of course.’
‘I didn’t realise they met in India,’ Peggy murmured, sliding the dress carefully from the hanger and draping it over her arm.
‘Her father was in the army, and Robert’s father was a diplomat,’ Fran replied, taking off her faded cotton dressing gown to reveal the silk underwear Cordelia had given her.
Peggy guided Fran’s bare feet into the dress and very carefully drew it over her slender hips until she could slip her arms into the long, lacy sleeves ending in points over her hands. The neckline of the dress sat on Fran’s collarbones and showed off the lovely nape of her neck. The silk-covered buttons were small and very fiddly, but Peggy eventually managed to get them fastened.
She stood back with tears blossoming as Fran regarded her reflection in the long mirror on the back of the wardrobe door. ‘You look utterly lovely,’ she breathed, taking in the delicate curves of her figure, the way the lace and silk enhanced the glow of her skin, and how the tumble of autumnal curls which had been artfully arranged on the top of her head by the hairdresser glinted like fire in the sunlight.
Peggy reached for the veil which she’d attached to a comb as there was no proper head-dress, and spent some time fixing it firmly into Fran’s hair so that it drifted in a cloud over her shoulders. ‘There,’ she breathed. ‘What do you think?’
‘I can’t believe it’s me,’ said Fran with a nervous laugh, turning this way and that to get the full effect. She took Peggy’s hand. ‘To be sure, Peggy, I’m blessed to have been shown such love today – and it’s all because of you.’
‘You’ll have me crying in a minute,’ Peggy said lightly to mask the true depth of her feelings, ‘and I spent ages doing my make-up too.’ She kissed Fran’s cheek tenderly. ‘You’re a lovely young woman, and the most beautiful bride, Fran. I love you like a daughter, and always will.’
She fought her emotions and became brisk. ‘Now get your shoes on, and I’ll fetch Ron to bring up your bouquet and escort you out to the car.’
Ron was grinning broadly as he carried the large bouquet through the gathering in the hall and up the stairs. A wedding certainly brought out the glad rags, he noticed, seeing the pretty tea dresses on Ivy and Rita and the elegant shantung silk dress and jacket Sarah had brought with her from Singapore. Even Cordelia looked perky, the happiness of the day giving him a glimpse of the lovely young woman she must have been.
He tapped on the door and slid inside so that no one could see the bride. ‘To be sure, you take me breath away,’ he murmured at the sight of her. ‘Young Robert is certainly a very lucky man.’
He placed the bouquet on the dressing table and took her hands. ‘I don’t need to ask if you’re happy, Fran, it’s there in your eyes and in your smile. I might not be your da, but I’m proud and honoured to take his place today, and I want you to know that Beach View will always be your family home.’
‘Oh, Ron,’ she managed.
‘Now, now, no tears,’ he chided gently. ‘This is a joyful day and I wish you luck and great happiness with Robert, acushla,’ He handed her the bouquet and offered her his arm
. ‘Are you ready for your audience?’
Fran giggled. ‘Yes, I’m ready.’
As he proudly took her down the stairs to where everyone was waiting in the hall, there were oohs and aahs and sighs of pleasure and delight. Cordelia already had tears in her eyes, little Daisy clapped her hands, Bertie Double-Barrelled doffed his trilby in admiration, and Harvey barked, sensing that something special was going on.
When everyone had admired the dress and said their piece and Cordelia had been installed in the front passenger seat of Bertie’s highly polished and ribbon-bedecked car, Ron and Fran had a glass of champagne to set them up for the day and the others made a mad dash for the Town Hall. Harvey would stay at home until after the ceremony and then Ron would take him to the Anchor once the wedding party was settled in for the reception.
The car pulled up by the steps of the Town Hall and Ron felt Fran trembling. ‘Are ye all right, wee girl?’ he asked in alarm. ‘Not having second thoughts, are ye?’
She smiled radiantly. ‘Not at all. I’m just excited.’
Ron helped her out of the car and they followed Cordelia and Bertie into the Town Hall and then up the grand red-carpeted staircase to the big double doors of the wedding room. He waited until Cordelia and Bertie were settled, and patted Fran’s hand. ‘Here we go, wee girl,’ he murmured.
As they slowly entered the room the guests stood to welcome them to the accompaniment of violin music which soared and throbbed and made Ron’s old heart beat that little bit faster.
Robert and his best man were waiting by the desk where the registrar stood, and as Robert turned to look at his bride, the love shone from his eyes and the relief relaxed his shoulders – he’d clearly been anxious that Fran might pull out at the last minute.
Fran was radiant as she walked towards him and took his hand, and it was clear to everyone that the pair were lost in their own world.