by Ellie Dean
‘There was a general feeling that Todd had at last got what he deserved and good riddance. He’d been a thorn in everyone’s side, and no one liked a man who tried to shift the blame onto others. The Major told us to clean up and get sober. We’d be leaving within the next two hours and would march through the night.’
Bewildered, Ron looked at his son. ‘I’m glad Todd was caught, but I still don’t understand how any of this reflects on your feud with Frank.’
Jim smiled for the first time in many hours, but it was a mere drawing back of his lips and didn’t touch his eyes. ‘Frank was starting to sober up, but he could still barely stand, and certainly wouldn’t have got far once we’d started to move off. So I took him away from the rest and stuck his head in a water trough. I kept dunking him until I thought he’d had enough.’
Jim heaved a deep, wavering sigh that betrayed his inner turmoil. ‘He stood there dripping wet, swaying like a giant candle in a breeze, his expression so fierce I thought he was about to knock me flat for soaking him. I braced meself, ready to dodge his mighty fist – but it was what he said that flattened me.’
Ron watched the differing emotions flit across his son’s face and ached for the pain he was going through.
‘He said he’d seen me and Todd going through the Germans’ pockets, and had watched as I’d hidden my share of the loot on Todd so he’d get the blame. He’d never liked Todd, but now he was disgusted with me. I was a thief who stood back and let another man take the blame. I was no longer his brother.’
‘Holy Mother of God,’ breathed Ron.
‘Aye.’ Jim closed his eyes and lifted his face to the starlit sky, his jaw working as he battled with his tears. ‘I loved the bones of him, Da. He was my big brother, my hero – but he thought so little of me that he believed I could do such a thing.’
‘But surely, when you explained . . .’
Jim shook his head. ‘He refused to listen when I tried to explain that he’d been drunk and had misinterpreted what he’d seen. He got angry, and so did I. No man, not even my brother, calls me a liar and gets away with it. I hit him and he hit me back, and suddenly we were wrestling and punching and rolling about in the dirt until we were dragged apart and put on charge.’
He dipped his chin, his voice muffled by his scarf. ‘At least he refused to say what had caused it, but he said afterwards that he’d stayed silent because the shame of what I’d done would have damaged all of us and he never wanted our mother to know what a contemptible man I really was.’ His voice broke. ‘Frank believes to this day that I’m a liar and a thief, and nothing I can say will change that.’
Ron heard the bitterness in his son’s voice and could now understand it. ‘’Tis an awful mess, so it is,’ he murmured, his own guilt at doubting his son making him feel sick with shame.
‘Aye, Da, that it is.’ Jim lit another cigarette as a squadron of RAF bombers roared above them on their way to the other side of the Channel. ‘But it has gone on long enough,’ he said in the ensuing silence. ‘Regardless of what Frank thinks of me – and I admit I’m no saint – we’re brothers, and it’s time to put away the auld troubles.’
Ron relit his pipe and sucked on it for a moment as the distant booms carried across the water and the dark horizon blossomed with the glow of fire. He felt sad for both his sons, but there was little he could do except hope things would turn out all right in the end. ‘You’re right, Jim, it’s time to close the door on it and make peace with Frank – and with yourself. ’Tis a terrible burden you’ve been carrying, son, but I suspect Frank is weary of it too.’
Another squadron of bombers droned overhead, followed swiftly by Hawker Hurricanes and Spitfires. The sirens were beginning to wail all through the town, and the searchlights from the hill emplacements began to stutter into life.
Ron got to his feet and held out his hand. ‘Come on, son. Let’s get out of here before the fireworks start.’
Jim grasped his hand and got to his feet. ‘You do believe me, Da, don’t you?’ he asked, his handsome face shadowed by sudden doubt.
Ron gathered him into his strong arms and held him close as the wailing sirens rent the air. ‘I’ve always believed in you,’ he murmured. ‘You’re a good man, so y’are – and so is Frank.’ He drew back, unashamed of the tears in his eyes. ‘I love the bones of you both, and it’s breaking me auld heart, so it is, to see the pair of you at such odds.’
‘I’ll do me best to put things right, Da, but—’
‘I know you will.’ Ron clamped his hand on Jim’s shoulder. ‘Let’s be going home,’ he said gruffly. ‘Our loved ones are waiting, and we should be with them now. None of us knows what this night might bring, and it’s time to hold them near.’
Chapter Fifteen
JULIE AND THE other girls took over the running of Beach View Boarding House as well as caring for the two babies. It was no easy task, for they all worked different hours, and the long days and nights were often disturbed by raids or the noise from the planes taking off at Cliffe airfield. But Beach View was a house in mourning and they were determined to lift some of the responsibilities from Peggy’s shoulders so that she could spend time with Pauline and Frank, as well as visiting Anne in hospital.
Three weeks had gone by since Frank had received that awful telegram, and they knew now that there would be no funeral, no grave in the local churchyard to mark the brothers’ passing, for Seamus and Joseph had been buried at sea along with the rest of the two minesweepers’ crews who had perished with them. However, there would be a memorial service at St Mary the Virgin the following day, and it was hoped that Brendon would be home in time.
It was now early April and, like many other Cliffehaven residents, Julie and Kath were taking advantage of the lighter evenings by strolling along the seafront. The two babies were warmly tucked up inside the pram, fast asleep, their little heads close together on the raised mattress. They stopped by one of the stone benches to sit down, and Julie checked that William’s mittens and bootees hadn’t come adrift, for his little hands and feet always seemed to be cold.
‘Are you still going to the service tomorrow?’ she asked.
Kath nodded, her fair hair flying loose from the pins as usual and blowing about her face in the early spring breeze. ‘The fishing families are a close-knit community, and with my father now working the tugs down in Portsmouth, and Patrick still at sea, Mum and I need to be there to offer our support.’ She gave a tremulous sigh. ‘But it won’t be easy. I’ve known Frank and his sons all my life, and Joseph was my Patrick’s best friend.’
Julie took her gloved hand and gave it a squeeze. It wouldn’t be easy for anyone, and the memory of Peggy’s ashen face this morning as she’d brushed down Jim and Ron’s best suit jackets and pressed the trousers still haunted her. Julie didn’t really know what to say to Kath, for everyone dreaded the arrival of that awful telegram, and with the continued raids during the days as well as the nights, it seemed they were all living on the edge of disaster.
They sat looking out past the gun emplacement to the ruined pier, the shipping traps and the thick coils of barbed wire that closed off the mined beach. It was hardly the most attractive view, but Julie loved being so close to the sea. She was invigorated by the clean, salty air, which was so refreshing after the smog of London, and although she still had moments of terrible homesickness, she enjoyed the sound of the waves crashing on the shingle and the sharp, mournful cries of the gulls as they swooped and hovered on the wind.
‘What about you?’ Kath asked finally. ‘Will you be going with the Reillys?’
Julie shook her head. ‘Mrs Finch and I are babysitting, because Fran and Suzy are on duty from midday and Rita’s shift at the fire station starts at two.’ She gave a sigh. ‘I’m worried about Mrs Finch, though. She’s taken the news of those boys very badly, even though she admits not having really known them. But she adores Frank.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘I came across her crying again this morning, just sitting there i
n the kitchen with her knitting forgotten in her lap, the tears streaming down her face.’
‘Oh, no, how awful,’ sighed Kath. ‘She’s usually such a sweet, chirpy old lady.’
‘That’s what worries all of us. She seems to have lost her spirit, and when we try and console her, she just shakes her head and mutters that life’s unfair, and that it’s she who should be dead, not all those young ones.’
‘That sounds serious.’ Kath’s blue eyes regarded her solemnly.
‘I’ve talked to Michael about it, and he’s prescribed a tonic, but I don’t think it will do much good. She needs to know she’s much loved and depended upon, and that we couldn’t manage without her. I use Rose and William shamelessly,’ Julie admitted, ‘because when she’s caring for them, she seems much brighter.’
‘This damned war is getting all of us down.’ Kath took a deep breath and made a tremendous effort to pull herself out of the doldrums. ‘Come on, let’s walk. I don’t know about you, but I’m getting cold sitting here.’
They strolled along towards the far end of the seafront in the hope that the little beach café would be open so they could buy a cup of tea. The breeze was certainly brisker now, and Julie wrapped her scarf a little more closely to her neck. She was enjoying the walk. She loved the way the green hills dipped so gently towards the water at this end of the promenade, and how the white cliffs towered over the fishing boats at the other. Cliffehaven had proved to be the perfect place to start again, despite the fact that so much had happened since her arrival.
These last three weeks had been particularly fraught, and the only really good thing to have happened was the fact that William’s hearing was back. He heard the slightest noise now and, like Harvey, wailed at the sound of the sirens – but strangely enough managed to sleep through most air raids quite happily.
‘Have you seen much of your sister?’ asked Kath as they walked past the big houses overlooking the beach from Havelock Gardens.
‘I went round and told her the good news about William’s hearing. She seemed pleased enough, and even offered me a cup of tea, but she isn’t really interested in anyone but herself and her pursuit of councillor what’s-his-name.’
‘Unwin,’ said Kath, and grinned. ‘She’s welcome to him, if you ask me. He’s a fat fool with too much money and a high opinion of himself.’
The café was closed, so they turned back and headed towards the playing fields which had been dug up to provide the biggest shelter in Cliffehaven. Kath and her mother lived in one of the little houses that overlooked the field, and which backed onto the steep incline where the old asylum had once been. The remains of the asylum could still be seen amid the surrounding trees, and Julie had heard from Rita all about the night it had taken a direct hit.
Kath’s mother was on night shift at Solomon and Goldman’s factory, where they now made parachutes as well as uniforms. ‘I won’t stay long,’ said Julie as she parked the pram in the hall, checked the babies and followed Kath into the kitchen. ‘I want to make sure Mrs Finch gets to bed safely. She’s very unsteady on her pins, and the last thing we need now is for her to take a tumble.’
Kath made the tea, raided the biscuit tin and raked the fire in the range to a glow. ‘How is dear Eunice?’ she asked wryly, her blue eyes sparkling.
‘She’s still a cow,’ said Julie, and giggled. ‘She times me when I write up me notes and have a cuppa, makes me count every blasted packet of dressing and bit of cotton wool every day, and makes a note of what I’ve used. I dropped a syringe the other morning, and blimey, you’d have thought I’d broken the Crown jewels.’
Kath laughed. ‘She obviously thinks you’re after her man.’
Julie had come to the same conclusion, and it worried her, for the happy atmosphere at Cliffe surgery had changed. ‘Michael and I get along, and he’s a sweet, kind man. But we’re just friends, Kath.’
‘Are you sure?’
Julie met her steady gaze. ‘Positive.’
‘If you say so,’ murmured Kath.
Peggy was very grateful to Alf the butcher for taking her in his delivery van to Tamarisk Bay every other day. He would take her there at lunchtime, then pick her up after he’d shut his shop and drop her at the hospital so she could visit Anne. Before the war, Tamarisk Bay could be reached at low tide along the beach, but with barbed wire, shipping traps and mines, it was now impossible, and she simply didn’t have the strength or energy to cycle all the way over the hills.
She took off her headscarf and pushed back her hair from her sweaty forehead, then pulled off her apron. It was hot and stuffy in the little kitchen with the range blazing away, but Pauline liked to have all the windows closed once the shadows closed in.
The wooden cottage was at the end of a row of five, nestling at the foot of the hill amongst the pale pink fronds of wild tamarisks, which grew in abundance amid the tussocks of long, windswept grass and knots of gorse and stunted trees. The kitchen led into a sitting room with French windows leading out onto a veranda, and had an uninterrupted view of the tiny bay. There were three bedrooms upstairs, and Frank had rigged up a copper boiler and an enormous enamel bath in a lean-to at the side of the house. Lobster pots, nets, fishing rods, old anchors, grappling hooks and discarded bits of machinery littered the space beneath the veranda, and Pauline had long given up trying to get Frank to sort it out and clear it away.
Peggy checked the pot of fish stew and took it off the hotplate. She didn’t want it to spoil, though she doubted if Pauline or Frank would feel like eating very much tonight. The kitchen was neat, with the pile of logs that Jim had cut this morning stacked tidily by the range, and the shoes Ron had polished earlier were lined up on newspaper by the door. Satisfied all was in order, she walked into the shabby sitting room.
Pauline was chain-smoking as she sat on the sagging couch facing the French windows and watched Frank messing about on his fishing boat in the twilight. He’d been out there most of the day, his face set, talking to no one, and clearly reluctant to return to the house where the atmosphere was heavy with mourning and the memories of his boys.
Both women understood that he needed time to himself, especially this evening, for the next day they would have to get through the ordeal of the memorial service. To make matters worse, there was still no sign of Brendon, despite the authorities assuring them he’d been given compassionate leave and was on his way home.
Peggy placed a gentle hand on Pauline’s shoulder. ‘Alf will be here soon,’ she said quietly. ‘Is there anything else you need me to do before I leave?’
Pauline was a fair-haired little woman who was only a few years older than Peggy, but her prettiness and vivacity had been wiped away by tragedy. She sat thin and ashen-faced, staring out of the window, probably not seeing Frank, or anything much, lost as she was in her stupor of grief. ‘You’ve done so much, Peg,’ she said brokenly. ‘I don’t know how I’d have coped without you.’
Peggy knew that Pauline would have liked her mother to be there, but the old lady was far too frail to travel such a long distance, and probably wouldn’t have been much help anyway. Peggy sat down next to her and took her hand. ‘We’re family, Pauline, of course we want to do everything we can to help.’ She stroked the thin, cold hand. ‘I’ve ironed your black dress and Frank’s shirt, and brushed down his best suit,’ she said quietly. ‘They’re hanging up in your bedroom.’
The narrow shoulders shuddered, but Pauline remained dry-eyed. ‘Brendon’s not coming, is he?’ she managed.
‘There’s still time,’ murmured Peggy, ‘but you know how upside down everything is, and how far he has to come. I’m sure he’s doing his very best to get here.’
Pauline nodded, her gaze still fixed on the view from the window. ‘He knows how much we need him here,’ she muttered. ‘Frank won’t settle until he knows for sure that he’s safe.’
Peggy heard the whine of an engine approaching. ‘That’ll be Alf,’ she said. ‘I’d better not keep him waiting.’ P
auline struggled to get out of the couch, but Peggy pressed her back. ‘Stay there, love,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Pauline just nodded as she stubbed out the half-smoked cigarette, lit a fresh one and returned to her vigil at the window.
Peggy went back into the tiny kitchen where she slipped on her coat and gathered up her string bag and gas-mask box. She could see Alf’s truck making its ponderous way down the steep, rutted slope. He’s such a kind man, she thought as she opened the front door and stepped outside. She and Jim must find a way of repaying him.
She waved as he pulled up by the gate and was about to shut the front door behind her when the passenger door opened and a handsome, dark-haired young man in the uniform of the Royal Naval Reserve stepped down.
‘Brendon,’ she breathed as he strode towards her and wordlessly gathered her into his arms. ‘Oh, Brendon,’ she sighed against his broad chest. ‘It’s so wonderful to see you. We didn’t think you’d make it in time.’
‘How’s Mammy and Da?’ he asked, his dark blue eyes shadowed with worry as he released her.
Peggy blinked away her tears, her heart full of thankfulness. ‘They’ll be better for seeing you,’ she murmured, patting his cheek and giving him a kiss. ‘Your mother’s indoors and Frank’s on the beach. I’ll leave you to it.’
She stood on the step just long enough to hear Pauline’s joyous cry of welcome, and then closed the door. They didn’t need her any more tonight.
Breakfast had been a solemn, almost silent meal which hardly anyone had touched. Ron and Jim had left soon after with Harvey to walk the hills, and everyone else saw to the housework and the babies, glad to be kept busy before they could escape the bleak atmosphere.
Julie was due to help Michael at the free Saturday morning clinic he’d set up for mothers with young babies at the Town Hall and, as Rose and William were due for their check-ups, she’d donned her uniform and taken them both with her.