Stormy Days On Mulberry Lane

by Rosie Clarke

  Maureen popped round to Rose’s house that evening with the little white cardigan she’d knitted for the new baby. Rose invited her in and offered a cup of tea, but she shook her head.

  ‘No, thanks, Rose love,’ she said, looking at her in concern, because she looked a bit peaky. ‘I just wanted to bring you this and see how you were. Peggy told me you weren’t feeling up to helping Sheila the other night and I was a bit worried about you.’

  ‘It’s just the baby,’ Rose replied, patting her bulge. ‘You know how it is when you begin to feel like a mountain, Maureen. I feel ungainly and my back starts to ache if I stand too long.’

  Maureen nodded sympathetically. ‘I know just how you feel,’ she said and smiled. ‘It will pass – you have got bigger this time, I think—’

  ‘I know,’ Rose groaned. ‘You don’t think it’s twins, do you?’

  ‘What does the doctor say?’

  ‘Nothing helpful,’ Rose replied with a rueful expression. ‘I’ll be glad when your Shirley is a doctor, Maureen. We could do with a female doctor round here. The nurses are more help than Doctor Morton.’

  ‘Is that who you see?’ Maureen nodded. ‘I’m not keen on him either. I always ask for Doctor Heath – he’s younger and not as set in his ways. He was wonderful with Gordy when I took him last time and Matty loves him.’

  ‘I’ve seen him in and around the surgery, but I haven’t been to him,’ Rose said. She blushed and stroked her tummy. ‘I suppose I stick to Doctor Morton because he’s old enough to be my father and I find it embarrassing to be examined by younger men.’

  ‘Well, there is that,’ Maureen agreed. ‘I went to a special clinic when I needed to talk about something embarrassing once – and there was a woman doctor there. They are about, Rose, but we just haven’t got one here yet.’

  ‘Do you think your Shirley will come back here to practise?’ Rose asked. ‘She’s a lovely girl, Maureen – you must be very proud of her?’

  ‘We are,’ Maureen agreed with a fond smile. ‘We both think the world of Shirley. I shall miss her when she goes away next month.’

  ‘Oh yes, she’s going on a working holiday before she goes to medical school, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, she wanted to go with her friend Richard and some of his colleagues. I think there are a couple of young women and Richard and perhaps another young student doctor going.’

  ‘Well, it will be an experience for her.’

  Maureen nodded. They chatted for another few minutes and then she left. Rose was certainly looking tired. She wondered if she ought to have a word with Tom about her, but then decided Rose might think she was interfering – and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Tom was almost like a younger brother to her and she knew how much he adored Rose – but he was probably well aware that his wife was a little down at the moment and would be keeping an eye out for her.

  Glancing at the wristwatch Gordon had recently bought her, Maureen decided that she would just pop in and have a few words with Peggy before she went home. It was so good having her best friend back in the lanes and she was smiling as she went round to the back door of the boarding house.

  3

  ‘Well, Mrs Ronoscki, it has been a delightful stay,’ Mr Craven said as he paid his bill that Tuesday morning. ‘I am sorry to be leaving.’

  ‘It was a pleasure to have you as our guest,’ Peggy told him with a smile. ‘I’m glad you enjoyed your stay here.’

  He hesitated, then, ‘Would it be possible to buy a pot of that marmalade?’ he asked her. ‘I enjoyed it so much and would like to continue eating it… You don’t sell it, I suppose?’

  ‘I hadn’t considered it,’ Peggy said thoughtfully. ‘I should be happy to give you a small jar, sir… just one moment.’ She went back into the kitchen and returned to him with an unopened jar. ‘There you are, Mr Craven. I’m about to make another batch, so you can have the last of the previous one.’

  ‘You must let me pay you?’ He looked at her oddly, almost as if testing her. ‘I don’t know what you would consider fair?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ Peggy told him. ‘I’m quite happy to give it to you – just tell your friends about it, sir. We haven’t been going long and although we’re already busy we can do with recommendations.’

  ‘I most certainly will,’ he said and popped the jar into his briefcase. ‘Good morning then. I’ll be on my way – and thank you for the marmalade.’

  Peggy watched him leave and then turned as Able entered the hall. ‘What are you looking so pensive about?’ he asked with a lift of his dark brows.

  ‘Mr Craven asked if he could buy a jar of my marmalade. I gave him the last one, so I’ll have to visit the market and buy more oranges and limes.’

  Able frowned, glancing towards the door. ‘That’s a bit odd…I shouldn’t have thought that he would want a jar of marmalade when he works for a firm that makes all kinds of jams. I would imagine he gets all he needs as free samples.’

  ‘He remarked on it a couple of times at breakfast,’ Peggy said, ‘at least I think he did – he certainly ate a lot of toast and marmalade.’

  ‘Well, your jams are far better than most you can buy commercially,’ her husband said with a grin.

  ‘It is an idea I suppose, Able. I could make a few extra batches to sell – Maureen would put it in her grocery shop or it could sell in the cake shop.’

  ‘It would make a lot of extra work for you, hon,’ Able said. ‘I’m sure it would sell, but you have enough to do now, what with the boarding house and the cakes for Sheila’s shop…’

  They still spoke of it as Sheila’s even though Peggy had been given a third share in the business, informally as there were no contracts drawn up between the three friends. It had started out as Sheila’s idea and then she’d asked Maureen to help her with the baking and once Peggy returned to the lane, of course she was welcomed into the mix. They’d agreed to just bank any excess money, take out what was needed to pay expenses, and, if they made a profit in six months’ time, decide what to do with it then. None of them needed the money desperately, because the cake shop was run more for friendship and pleasure than profit.

  ‘Yes, you’re quite right,’ Peggy said decisively. ‘I don’t want to be tied to something that takes too much time – and I’d have to apply for more sugar to use commercially.’

  Sugar was still on ration, Peggy had had to ask for extra coupons for her boarding house guests, just as Sheila did for her business in the cake shop. Jam-making used a lot of sugar and although she might have considered preparing a batch of her special jam and marmalade for resale if sugar wasn’t being rationed. It would be too difficult to get enough at the moment. She did get some extra because of the guesthouse – and Alice gave her all hers, because she didn’t take it in tea, only in coffee. Able’s American contacts in the military also supplied him with some very nice brown sugar now and then, as well as the coffee he liked, and various other tinned goods not generally available.

  Peggy frowned as she remembered Mr Craven’s curiosity about the marmalade. He couldn’t have been an inspector from the food ministry, could he? During the war, there had been a lot of black market racketeering going on and the punishment for conviction had been quite severe at times; a butcher accused of selling stolen meat had gone to prison for some years. A cold chill went down her spine as she wondered if she’d been overgenerous with her sugar or the marmalade. No one could prove she’d done anything wrong, but if she was accused, it would be difficult and expensive to prove her innocence, though an occasional extra bag of sugar from a friend was surely not a huge crime?

  ‘What’s wrong, hon?’ Able asked as he followed her into the kitchen. He was always so sensitive to her moods and she told him what had crossed her mind.

  ‘If Mr Craven is a secret inspector, he could cause trouble for us.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so – we’ve never bought big off the black market, and we could have, had we wished to,’ Able said. ‘A few it
ems from friends of mine wouldn’t stand up in court – they’re gifts and nothing to do with anything underhand.’

  ‘He wouldn’t know that.’ Peggy shook her head. ‘No, I’m being foolish. The restrictions are nothing like as harsh as they were during the war and I’m just letting my imagination run away with me, Able. Mr Craven simply wanted a pot of marmalade to take back with him.’

  ‘Of course, he did,’ Able said. ‘Who wouldn’t?’ His smile warmed her, banishing the doubts. ‘If the restrictions were finally over, I think it would be worthwhile opening your own little shop to sell the lovely food you make, Peggy – but as it is, you couldn’t get enough of what you need to make it in sufficient volume. I’m sure the commercial companies don’t put in anywhere near as much of the good things you do.’

  ‘No, perhaps not,’ Peggy agreed. ‘Well, how did Fay’s session go this morning? Did she get to school on time?’

  Able had got up early again to take his daughter to the ice rink for an extra lesson with her coach. Fay was making big strides with her skating and they were talking about entering her in a beginners’ competition later that year. Both Peggy and Able thought it far too soon, but Sara Anderson, her coach, thought it would be good for her to see what she was up against.

  ‘Fay is an excellent skater for someone who has never done it before,’ she’d told Peggy the last time she’d accompanied her to the rink. ‘However, there is a vast difference between being naturally good at something and achieving the perfection needed to win competitions.’

  ‘Yes, I’m quite certain there is,’ Peggy had agreed and frowned. ‘Are you telling me that you’ve revised your first opinion of her ability?’ Fay had taken to the sport with enthusiasm and her parents had been led to believe she had considerable talent. It was one of the reasons they’d moved back to London, to allow her sufficient time on the ice to practise.

  ‘No, not at all,’ Sara Anderson had assured her. ‘I still believe that one day Fay might represent her country in the world championships – but not for many years and only if she works hard all the time.’

  Peggy had nodded. She understood what Sara was telling her. Fay was enthusiastic, but she believed she was good already and was perhaps not willing to put in as much hard work as she needed. It was what Janet, Fay’s half-sister, had warned of when the subject first came up.

  ‘You know what Fay is like, Mum.’ Janet had said. ‘She’s mad to try something at first and then she gets bored and wants something else.’

  Peggy had known her eldest daughter was talking sense, but she’d thought Fay’s passion for skating meant more to her than that. It was just as well it hadn’t been the main reason for her return to London! However, when she’d asked Fay if she was getting bored with her skating, she’d shaken her head.

  ‘I love it, Mum – but Mrs Anderson won’t let me do all the things I want to try. She says I’m not strong enough in the ankles to do some of the jumps yet and makes me keep doing exercises when I want to free skate.’

  ‘Well, Sara did warn you it wasn’t all glamour,’ Peggy had told her. ‘I’m sure she will teach you the jumps when she thinks you’re able to do them safely.’

  The mutinous look in Fay’s eyes had shown Peggy that she didn’t agree but she hadn’t argued. Fay knew that if she argued with her mother or was rude to her, her father would curtail her pleasures. Able doted on the twins, but, easy-going as he was, he expected them to be polite to their mother and to do as Peggy asked. Freddie was always ready to please, but Fay could be an awkward little monkey when she chose.

  ‘I think she got on well,’ Able said, replying to Peggy’s question. She has one or two new moves she is practising. Sara seemed pleased, anyway. I think that competition is on in September or October.’

  ‘She’ll want a new outfit for that,’ Peggy said and frowned. They had spent quite a lot of money on the move and Fay’s equipment was never cheap, but Able never refused the twins anything. She wondered if he’d used more of his savings than he’d expected. ‘We’re a bit slow the rest of this month, Able – but we shall be full up the whole of July and August. We have several families coming up for the summer holidays.’

  Having lived most of her life in London, a holiday for Peggy was a trip to the sea or the country, but she’d discovered that quite a few families enjoyed coming to London for a week or two, to take their children to see all the famous sights and the museums. Pip had told her that at the start, when she’d believed her main customers would be travelling salespeople. So far, most of her guests had indeed been salesmen on their rounds, but it would be pleasant to have the holiday guests in July and August and she knew Alice was looking forward to it. Alice always loved having children around.

  ‘You’re not worrying about money?’ Able smiled and drew her into his arms. ‘I’ve hardly touched my savings, hon – and I’ve got plans to increase our income. I’m just not sure which way to go for the best…’ He frowned as he fished in his pocket for a small paper ticket. ‘I’m sure that garage overcharged me – yes, look, it’s three shillings a gallon.’

  ‘It went up this month. It’s dreadfully expensive now.’

  ‘I’ll have to cut your housekeeping,’ he said wickedly.

  ‘Don’t tease me, Able,’ Peggy said mystified. ‘You spoke of increasing your income just now, what are you thinking of investing in this time?’

  Able grinned and winked. ‘Now, wouldn’t you like to know, Peggy Ronoscki? I’m going to keep you in the dark a bit longer, hon, because I’m not sure. I’ve been invited to invest in two different projects. I could do one or both – or just hold my fire for the time being. At the moment, I’m not sure which would be best for us.’

  ‘Are you sorry we sold the café?’ Their little business on the Devonshire coast had been a small goldmine and Able had saved a fair bit of money while they were there.

  ‘Not one bit,’ Able said. ‘The rent from my house is enough, combined with what we earn here, to keep us going for the moment, Peggy. I just want to be certain that when I do invest our savings, I put the money where it will do us the most good.’

  Peggy nodded and kissed him. He never complained, but she sometimes felt guilty for bringing him back from their life down there, because in some ways it had been better for them all – and yet Fay had wanted to come to London and Sheila had needed her to be around while she was expecting her second child.

  ‘I’m sure the boarding house will pay, Able,’ she told him. It was only breaking even at the moment, because not all the rooms were filled – and she’d let one to Alice for barely enough to cover her food. ‘We’ll make a good profit when the rooms are all occupied.’

  ‘I know,’ Able said and smiled. ‘You worry too much, Peggy. By Christmas we shall have them queuing up and every one of them will be begging you to cook them dinner as well as breakfast.’

  ‘It gives me time to work in the cake shop,’ Peggy reminded him. ‘I’m not sure how that will pay, but we’ll see.’

  Able nodded thoughtfully. ‘If you’ve got enough sugar when you’re jam-making, why not make a few jars to sell in the shop – maybe you should give it a go, hon? It won’t affect Maureen’s trade and it might show us whether we could diversify a bit.’

  Peggy didn’t bother to remind him of all the difficulty of finding enough of the necessary ingredients. She was curious herself as to whether things like that would sell and it didn’t take much to make another batch while she was at it. She could see what kind of fruit was available and experiment with flavours. ‘All right, I’ll try,’ she said to please him. ‘What shall I put on the label?’

  Able’s eyes narrowed. ‘You could put Peggy’s apple jam or Peggy’s marmalade,’ he said. ‘Or Peggy of Mulberry Lane…’ A smile lit his face. ‘I’ll design a label for you – get the children to help. We’ll call it Peggy’s of Mulberry Lane and then whatever flavour it is underneath.’

  ‘All right,’ Peggy laughed, because the idea appealed. ‘It was a bit o
f fun and she enjoyed making jam and marmalade, just as she enjoyed cooking her apple pies and her cakes. She had several specials that she did particularly well and she’d noticed that they were selling out first every day. Maureen and Sheila’s cakes sold too, but Peggy’s own was always the first to go. ‘Yes, I like that, Able – Peggy’s of Mulberry Lane…’

  ‘So, do I,’ Able said. ‘It sounds just right.’

  ‘I’ll have to ask Sheila and Maureen if it is all right, though.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but you know what they will say.’ He winked at her. ‘Tell Freddie not to forget that England and America are playing in the World Cup this week.’

  ‘As if he’d forget – as if either of you would forget something like that.’

  Peggy smiled as he left, her husband and son were both football fans and would be sure to have the radio on for news of the exciting match.

  4

  Peggy was returning from the market with her basket full of fruits and her head teeming with ideas when she suddenly saw the young girl. She looked to be no more than about fifteen, slight, dark-haired and pretty, but so pale and unsteady that she knew instinctively that she was going to fall. Sprinting towards her, she let the basket drop to the ground and moved to catch the girl even as she crumbled into a heap, murmuring something as her senses left her.

  ‘Poor little urchin,’ a voice Peggy knew well said from behind her. ‘Let me take her, Peggy.’

  Tom Barton swept the fragile child into his arms as others gathered round to watch. Peggy bent to pick up her basket and the fruit that had fallen from it, making up her mind without a moment’s hesitation.

  ‘Can you carry her back to mine, Tom?’ She smiled as she saw the answer in his face. Tom was one of her favourite people and she was pleased he’d seen what was going on and come to help. Others might have done so, but she trusted her friend to be kind and thoughtful.