Where the Heart Lies

by Ellie Dean

‘Very nice,’ said Eileen.

  Stung by her lack of admiration, Julie replaced the blanket over William’s little head. This was going to be harder than she’d thought, but she ploughed on anyway, determined to break through her sister’s frostiness. ‘Do you think I could come in?’ she asked pleasantly. ‘Only I’ve just arrived from London and had to walk from the station. Me feet are killing me in these silly shoes.’

  Eileen eyed the shoes. ‘Nothing’s changed there, then,’ she muttered. She shot a glance at the bundle in Julie’s arms and then grudgingly stepped aside. ‘I’m going out later,’ she warned, ‘but I’ve got time to make a cup of tea, I suppose.’

  She closed the door and led the way up a short flight of carpeted stairs to a square landing. Opening another door, she walked into a pleasant sitting room and pointed to an armchair. ‘Sit down while I see if I have enough tea,’ she ordered.

  Julie sat down on the edge of the chair and held William to her heart. This had been a terrible mistake. She should never have come without thinking it through properly. Eileen was a cold fish, and although she might look like their mother, there was nothing of Flo’s warmth and compassion in her.

  Julie carefully slipped off her overcoat and looked round the neat, almost impersonal room. A table and two chairs were placed beneath the window, which had been taped against bomb-blast. The plain beige velvet curtains had been lined with blackout material and matched the armchair and couch which stood in front of a gas fire. There were no ornaments or photographs about the place, just a plain clock in a polished mahogany casing which sat squarely on the mantelpiece. A wireless stood in the corner, a mirror hung above the fire, and the niches on either side of the chimney breast had been lined with crammed bookshelves. The only luxury seemed to be the lovely Indian carpet that covered the polished floorboards almost to the walls.

  William stirred in her arms, his little fists emerging from the blanket in search of his mouth, and Julie hoped there was enough milk left in the flask to satisfy him until she could collect her bags from the station and retrieve the tins of formula she’d been given by the hospital. She crooned softly to him and kissed the tiny fists, praying he wouldn’t start yelling. Eileen clearly didn’t possess a single maternal bone in her body, and it wouldn’t do to antagonise her further.

  Eileen came back into the room, carrying a tray loaded with china. ‘I hope you’re not expecting more than a biscuit,’ she said. ‘I’ve already had my lunch, and as I’m being taken out to supper tonight there isn’t anything in the larder.’

  Julie’s stomach rumbled at the thought of food. ‘A sandwich would be nice if you could spare it,’ she said, ‘but if it’s too much trouble . . .’

  ‘It is rather,’ Eileen replied flatly. She poured the tea, put a digestive biscuit on the saucer and handed the cup to Julie. ‘I’m a busy woman with little time to queue for bread, and I wasn’t expecting visitors.’

  Julie held onto her temper as she gratefully gulped down the tea and ate the biscuit. ‘I’m hardly any old visitor,’ she said mildly, ‘and as your sister, I would have expected a warmer welcome.’

  ‘You should have written and told me you were coming. That way, you’d have saved yourself a journey.’ Eileen crossed her slender legs and tugged at the hem of her skirt as she eyed Julie and William with little emotion. ‘You can’t stay here,’ she said. ‘I only have one bedroom and I certainly don’t want the inconvenience of a squalling baby to contend with.’

  Shocked by her rudeness and lack of compassion, Julie stared at her. ‘Why are you being like this, Eileen? What’s made you so . . . so cold? This is little Franny’s precious baby, and now that Mum and Dad are gone, I thought . . .’

  Eileen stared through the tape on the window at the rooftops opposite. ‘I was sorry to hear about Mum and Dad – Franny, too. But it’s been a long time, and too much water has passed under the bridge for me to get emotional over them.’ She turned back to Julie, her expression unreadable. ‘I suppose Mum told you why I had to leave?’

  ‘Nobody said anything,’ Julie replied. ‘Whatever happened between you that day went with them to their graves.’

  ‘Best it stays there then,’ said Eileen. She finished her tea and glanced at her wristwatch. ‘You said you’re starting at the surgery on Monday, so I’m assuming you have made some sort of plan regarding your accommodation?’

  ‘I was rather hoping we could stay with you and look after William together,’ Julie replied, ‘but obviously I was mistaken to think you might help.’

  Eileen patted her neat hair, the red varnish flashing on her long nails. ‘I have an important job with the local council, which means I’m often kept very late in the office, coupled with a very pleasant social life. There is certainly no time for me to nursemaid a baby. I suggest you go to the authorities and have him fostered as soon as possible.’

  ‘I promised Franny I’d never do that,’ said Julie.

  ‘Then you’re a fool,’ snapped Eileen. ‘You can’t possibly look after a child and hold down a demanding job at the same time.’

  ‘I’ll find someone to look after him while I’m working,’ Julie retorted. ‘I’m willing to pay the right person.’

  Eileen regarded William, who was becoming restless in Julie’s arms. ‘Was Franny actually married to the father?’ Julie shook her head. ‘In which case it would be better off adopted. You can’t risk people thinking it’s yours, and I’ve worked too long and too hard to get where I am to have my reputation sullied by my connection with you.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Eileen,’ snapped Julie, ‘I won’t tell anyone you’re my sister. The shame of closing your door to the only member of your family who needs you is bad enough, and I’m sure you won’t want that item of news getting about to smear your pristine reputation.’

  ‘There’s no need to be like that,’ said Eileen, her brown eyes narrowing.

  ‘I think there’s every need,’ retorted Julie. ‘In fact, after meeting you again after so many years, I’m almost ashamed to acknowledge you as a member of our family. You might think you’re grand and important, but we both come from the East End, where hospitality and family loyalty are of the utmost importance. Leaving Stepney has done you no favours at all.’

  Eileen held her glare for a long moment of silence and then she gave a deep sigh. ‘You can stay for tonight,’ she said with clear reluctance, ‘but you’ll have to go to the billeting people this afternoon and find somewhere for tomorrow. I can’t have my life disrupted like this.’

  Julie didn’t want to stay with Eileen at all, but she had little choice. ‘Thank you,’ she said tightly. ‘I’ll just feed and change William first, then get out of your hair.’ She eyed her older sister thoughtfully. ‘I don’t suppose you know where I could pick up a second-hand pram, do you?’

  ‘The WVS centre at the Town Hall will probably have one.’ Eileen gathered the cups and saucers and placed them carefully on the tray. ‘As long as he’s fed and changed and asleep before you go out, I’ll keep an eye on him.’

  Julie was startled by her sister’s change of heart. ‘Really?’ she breathed. ‘That would be such a help, because I have to go back to the station to collect me bags and—’

  ‘I’m due to go out at seven this evening,’ said Eileen, ‘and if you’re one minute late back, then I’m going anyway – and the baby will be left to fend for itself.’

  ‘I’ll be back, I promise. Thanks, Eileen.’

  Eileen made no reply as she carried the tea tray out of the room and quietly closed the door behind her – but her young sister would have been shocked to see her lean heavily against that door, her cold reserve crumbling as she desperately fought back a tide of anguish which threatened to overwhelm her.

  Julie had left William fed, clean and asleep in a nest of pillows on Eileen’s couch. She hadn’t liked leaving him at all, for she doubted if Eileen could cope if he became tearful. But without him, Julie could dash to the billeting office before it closed, and then h
urry back to the station to collect her bags, and perhaps buy something to eat for her supper.

  She remembered passing the billeting office on her way down the High Street, but when she pushed through the door, she saw the crush and realised she had a long wait ahead of her. She settled on one of the uncomfortable chairs, fretting as the hands on the big wall-clock slowly ticked away the minutes. The shops would soon be closing and she needed to buy food for tonight – and then there was the possibility that the old porter might go off duty and close the left luggage.

  Her impatience grew as the time dragged by, and it was almost an hour before she was finally called to one of the three desks.

  A small wooden plaque on the desk informed Julie that she was dealing with Katherine Carter. Katherine was a pretty, fair-haired girl who couldn’t have been much older than Julie, but she was clearly harassed by the sheer number of people needing her help, and didn’t look up as Julie sat down.

  Katherine shuffled the paperwork before her and tried to bring some order to her fair hair, which seemed determined to escape her hairpins. Drawing a sheaf of papers towards her, she began to fire questions at Julie as she filled in a form. ‘Name, age, marital status, address, occupation? How many needing accommodation? Do you have small children or elderly dependants?’

  Julie answered them all, and then Katherine finally looked up. ‘I thought you said you weren’t married?’

  ‘I’m not,’ she replied. ‘William is me sister’s child. She died six weeks ago.’

  ‘Oh, I am sorry.’ The blue eyes were sympathetic, the smile warm despite her obvious weariness. ‘And here you are, all the way from London with nowhere to go.’ She frowned. ‘I’m surprised Dr Sayers didn’t organise something for you. He knows how difficult it is to place very small children, especially when so many of our local residents have been bombed out. Our policy is to encourage mothers with young ones to evacuate to Wales or Somerset.’ She looked back at Julie hopefully.

  ‘I have to stay here,’ Julie said quietly. ‘I can’t let Dr Sayers down.’

  ‘Of course,’ Katherine murmured. ‘In that case, I can only offer you a bed at the Town Hall. It’s our emergency holding centre and overcrowded, but I’m sure we could squeeze you both in somehow.’ She gave Julie an apologetic smile as she again fiddled with the hairpins. ‘Don’t you have any friends or relatives in Cliffehaven who might take you in for a while?’

  Julie thought of Eileen and shook her head. ‘I’ve left William with someone for the afternoon, but she doesn’t have any room to spare after tonight. Aren’t there any families who would be willing to take me and the baby in? I’d pay extra for babysitting, and do all me own laundry and cooking.’

  Katherine sat back in her chair with a sigh and let the drifts of fair hair settle round her pretty face. ‘The only person who might take you in is Mrs Reilly at Beach View Boarding House. But I seem to remember she’s taken her name off our books for a while.’

  Julie sat forward eagerly. ‘Is this Mrs Reilly likely to change her mind? Is there any way of getting hold of her to see if she has a spare room?’

  Katherine pushed back from the desk, opened an enormous filing cabinet and riffled through the endless buff folders until she found the right one. ‘She’s asked to be temporarily off the books, but I know for a fact she has two spare rooms – so she might change her mind once she knows the situation,’ she said thoughtfully.

  Julie’s hopes rose. ‘Is there any way of contacting her today?’

  ‘She’s on the telephone, but I’ll have to make the call in our back office.’ Katherine’s smile was encouraging. ‘Hold on there a tick, and I’ll see what I can do.’

  Julie sat in front of the desk and tried to appear calm, but her insides were churning. A billet in a boarding house sounded far more appealing than camping out at the Town Hall, and she just prayed her luck would finally change and she wouldn’t have to spend the night in Eileen’s unwelcoming company.

  What a fool she’d been to think her sister would take her in without a murmur – and how stupid not to arrange alternative accommodation before she arrived. She really should learn not to jump into things so quickly, letting her heart rule her head without a thought for the consequences. It seemed the years of discipline and forethought as a nurse had taught her nothing when it came to her chaotic private life.

  Katherine returned and sat down. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Harris, but I was unable to reach Mrs Reilly and could only leave a message with one of her young lodgers. But the girl did say Mrs Reilly wasn’t planning to take in any more evacuees until after her daughter has had her baby.’ She looked crestfallen. ‘I’m ever so sorry.’

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ Julie assured her. ‘But what if I was to go and see this Mrs Reilly? Do you think I might be able to persuade her to change her mind?’

  Katherine leaned back in her chair and looked thoughtful. ‘It’s not our usual policy, but these are difficult times and you’re obviously in a terrible bind.’ She opened the file and copied down the address. ‘Peggy Reilly’s an absolute treasure,’ she confided, ‘and if anyone can help you, she’s your best bet. Just don’t let on about this, or I’ll get shot.’ She grinned as she handed over the piece of paper. ‘I’ll book you in to the Town Hall, though, just in case. You can let them know if you don’t need it.’

  Julie slipped the piece of paper into her coat pocket. ‘Thanks, you’re a diamond,’ she breathed.

  ‘Better to leave it until teatime just to make sure she’s in.’ Katherine glanced at the clock and pushed back from the desk. ‘That’s me done for the day,’ she said cheerfully. ‘The name’s Kath, by the way. Want me to show you where Beach View is?’

  Julie smiled at her friendliness. ‘Please, call me Julie, and it would be very helpful so long as it doesn’t take you too far out of your way.’

  ‘It’s not that far, and to be honest, I could do with a bit of fresh air and exercise after sitting in here all day.’ Katherine giggled as she slipped on her overcoat and tied the belt round her waist. ‘I swear I can feel every spam sandwich and digestive biscuit going straight to my hips.’

  Julie returned her grin, recognising a kindred spirit, and the first spark of a new and interesting friendship. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad in Cliffehaven after all.

  Chapter Eight

  JULIE AND KATH left the billeting office and hurried up the hill to the station to fetch Julie’s cases. Changing into her sturdier shoes, she sighed with relief as their familiar comfort cushioned her sore feet. It was almost four in the afternoon, and being Saturday, the shops were on the point of closing, but she managed to buy a small tin of spam and half a loaf of bread before they headed towards Camden Road again.

  Kath came to a halt at a corner opposite a large Catholic church. ‘That’s Havelock Gardens beyond the church,’ she explained. ‘It’s the posh end of Cliffehaven, with big houses and gardens that look over the beach. If you go through the little park and turn right into Cliffe Avenue, you’ll find the surgery halfway down. Dr Sayers and his son converted the ground floor of their family home some years ago.’

  ‘What’s he like?’ asked Julie.

  ‘Dr Sayers senior’s a bit old-fashioned, and looks like Father Christmas. He can be a bit grumpy at times, but he’s ever so nice really. He’s a widower and came out of retirement to help his son, Michael, run the practice after war was declared. Michael suffers from asthma, which is why he couldn’t enlist.’

  ‘Poor man,’ murmured Julie. ‘Asthma can be an awful affliction.’

  ‘It doesn’t hold him back, though.’ Kath took one of Julie’s cases and they began to walk down Camden Road. ‘He always comes out when he’s called, even in the middle of the night, and he runs free clinics at the Town Hall and hospital, as well as his own twice-daily surgeries.’ She sighed. ‘He’s really nice, but far too thin. My mum reckons he needs a wife to fatten him up.’

  Julie shot her a glance of curious amusement. ‘Do I detect an
attraction to the thin but caring young doctor?’ she teased.

  Kath chuckled. ‘I fancied him when I was in primary school, but that’s as far as it went. My chap is on a minesweeper somewhere in the Atlantic.’

  Julie saw the wistfulness in her face. ‘Is he a local too?’

  Kath nodded. ‘He and his brothers worked on their dad’s fishing boats before they enlisted into the RNR. His name’s Patrick.’ She sighed. ‘I do miss him.’ She looked back at Julie. ‘So, what’s your story, Julie? Have you got a chap, and is it as bad in London as it says in the papers?’

  Julie gave her a potted history of the war in London and how it had devastated so many lives. She kept it concise and almost impersonal, aware of how easily the tears would start flowing if she let her emotions come into it. ‘As for men, I’ve given up on them,’ she finished. ‘The last one was a disaster.’ She drew to a halt outside Eileen’s door and smiled. ‘I’ll tell you all about him next time – if you want to meet up again, of course.’

  Kath grinned. ‘Absolutely,’ she said, ‘and I’ll introduce you to some of my other friends and show you round.’

  ‘Well,’ said Julie, ‘this is me. How far is it to Beach View from here?’

  Kath looked up at the window above the bakery. ‘Is this where you’ve left William?’ At Julie’s nod she grimaced. ‘I’m surprised Eileen Harris offered to mind him,’ she said. ‘She’s not exactly the warm, cuddly type, and I’ve had many a run-in with her over council policies regarding evacuees. Anyone would think she was running the town council, not just a secretary.’ Her blue eyes widened as realisation dawned. ‘Oh, goodness,’ she breathed. ‘Is she a relative? Have I put my foot in it?’

  Julie smiled. ‘Not at all,’ she assured her. ‘My sister and I have very little in common, which is why I’m looking for somewhere to stay.’ She remembered Eileen’s dire warnings not to talk about their relationship and quickly added, ‘Keep that to yourself, though, Kath.’

  ‘My lips are sealed.’ Kath glanced at her watch. ‘I’d better get back home. Mum will need help getting the tea. Beach View is down there,’ she said, pointing to the end of Camden Road. ‘Cross over at the junction into Beach View Terrace and it’s the third house on the left.’