by Ellie Dean
‘That would be lovely,’ she sighed. ‘Me throat’s as dry as a parrot cage after all that puffing and blowing.’
Julie finished dealing with Mrs Morris while the kettle boiled, and then handed her a cup of tea and took the baby. Having washed and dressed her in the sweet little knitted suit that Mrs Morris had hand-embroidered, she placed her back into her mother’s arms.
Weary from the long, tense day, she longed for her bed and the reassurance that William was safe. But Mrs Morris couldn’t be left alone, and it was her duty to remain with her until the all-clear sounded, and her husband returned. She pulled the spare blanket over her shoulders and concentrated on the noise overhead in an effort to stay awake.
It was five in the morning when that welcome sound heralded the end of the enemy raid, and although the party was still in full swing, Rosie and Ron had had enough. ‘We must be getting old,’ she murmured as they strolled back to the Anchor in the pearly dawn light.
‘Never,’ he rumbled, patting her hand, which was neatly tucked into the crook of his arm. ‘Why, Rosie, we’re just spring chickens compared to some – and being with you makes me feel young again.’
As they reached the side door to the pub, she drew to a halt and looked up at him, her expression unreadable. ‘We can’t go on like this, Ron,’ she said softly. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
He swallowed painfully and his heart seemed to be squeezed with dread. ‘But we’ve had a lovely night,’ he stammered. ‘I thought you . . .’
She placed a soft finger on his lips. ‘Shhh, Ron. Don’t say another word until I’ve finished.’ She regarded him for a long, tense moment and then closed her eyes and kissed him – not on the cheek, but on the mouth.
Ron thought he’d never tasted anything so sweet. He had never known the power of such a kiss before, or dared to dream this moment would really come. After an instant of hesitation, he gently pulled her to him and tried to convey his depths of feeling in his own kiss.
They eventually drew apart, and Rosie blushed and dipped her chin. ‘I’m sorry, Ron. I shouldn’t have done that – but I’ve wanted to for ages,’ she confessed softly.
He cupped her lovely face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. ‘Why didn’t you then?’
She looked back at him, a ghost of a smile on her lips. ‘It’s not a girl’s place to make the first move, Ron, you know that.’
‘But why tonight?’
‘I don’t really know,’ she murmured. ‘I suppose I just got carried away in the moment.’ She looked up at him through her lashes. ‘Am I very brazen?’
‘You can be as brazen as you like,’ he murmured as he captured her lips again and held her close. ‘You’re my Rosie,’ he murmured some minutes later, ‘and I love the bones of you, girl.’
She gave a deep, sad sigh as she rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I know you do,’ she murmured, ‘and I love you too, but it was wrong of me to give you false hope.’ She drew from his embrace, her lovely eyes bright with tears. ‘And it is false, Ron,’ she said sadly, ‘for we can have no future together.’
Ron felt a stab of fear. ‘If we love each other, then I can’t see . . .’
She silenced him with a sweet brush of her finger over his lips. ‘I’m not free, Ron. We could never be together, not properly – not the way we both want.’
Ron’s thoughts were in turmoil. There’d been rumours that Rosie was either widowed or divorced, or had merely used the wedding ring as a subterfuge to keep predatory men at bay. His throat tightened. ‘You’re still married,’ he rasped.
She nodded.
The disappointment weighed heavily round his heart as the joy of the last few moments melted away. ‘But you’ve lived here for years and there’s been no sight of him, not even a whisper that he existed. That’s not a marriage, Rosie.’
‘I know,’ she replied, reaching into her small handbag for her cigarettes and lighter. She blew smoke into the pale dawn light, her gaze distant. ‘But divorce is out of the question.’
Ron took the cigarette from her trembling fingers and threw it in the gutter. Grasping her arms, he gently forced her to look at him. ‘Why, Rosie?’ he asked softly.
She took a deep, quavering breath and let it out on a sigh. ‘Jack’s been very ill for a long time. He’s being looked after in a secure section of a special sanatorium and will never come home again,’ she murmured. ‘The law says I can’t divorce him, even though he’s insane, so I must live in this limbo until he dies.’
Ron gathered her to him and buried his cheek in her hair. ‘Oh, Rosie, me darlin’ girl. What a terrible burden you’ve been carrying all these years. Why did you not confide in me?’
‘I couldn’t,’ she said, her breath hitching against his suit jacket. ‘Not until I was sure you felt the same way as me.’ She finally drew away from him. ‘I’m so sorry, Ron. Tonight has been wonderful, and now I’ve gone and spoiled it.’
He softly kissed away the single tear that dewed her cheek. ‘The night has not been spoiled at all,’ he murmured. ‘I’ve waited so long to kiss you, and now that I know you love me, my heart is full.’
‘Oh, Ron,’ she breathed, her face shining with love and hope.
He took her hands and looked deeply into her eyes. ‘I will keep on loving you for as long as I’ve breath in me body. But I’ll not be impatient, Rosie, or take things further than you wish. What we share is too precious, and I’m prepared to wait for as long as it takes to make you me own.’
She looked back at him with just a glimmer of the old teasing light in her lovely eyes, and the curve of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ‘Is that a proposal, Ronan Reilly?’
Ron grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘You can call it a proposal of a proposal,’ he said. He gave her a light slap on her delicious bottom. ‘Now get indoors and go to bed before I start making a fool of meself.’
She giggled, unlocked the door and stepped inside. ‘I do love you, Ron. Sleep well, you old scoundrel, and I’ll see you this evening.’
‘Less of the old,’ he retorted. But he was talking to a closed door.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, knowing he had a silly grin on his face as he went back into Camden Road and headed for home. But he didn’t care. Rosie loved him and he was walking on air. His heart sang, the birds were trilling, and it was going to be a beautiful day.
Peggy’s nerves were worn to a frazzle after spending those long, fraught hours in the Anderson shelter. Charity had complained about everything, the babies wouldn’t be soothed, and Harvey had disgraced himself by letting off a huge fart, the smell of which had lingered sickeningly for what felt like hours.
They had trooped back into the kitchen, glad to find they still had water and electricity, and there didn’t appear to be any damage to the house or in the street. Once both babies had been changed and fed and tucked into the pram together, Peggy and Anne set about preparing breakfast. Charity Farnsworth didn’t offer to help, merely sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper while Mrs Finch tried to lay cutlery and china around her.
It was still and silent after the noise of last night, and the dawn sky promised a lovely day. But Peggy knew her troubles were only just beginning when she saw Jim come into the kitchen. He looked at her with questions in his eyes that she couldn’t answer – not here, not now, and certainly not in front of the others.
‘Was it very bad out there?’ she asked him, her tone deliberately casual. ‘It sounded pretty alarming from where we were sitting.’
He took off his tin hat and warden’s jacket, dumping his gas-mask box on a nearby chair. ‘More noise than anything,’ he said moodily, easing his braces over his shoulders and leaving them to dangle from the waistband on his trousers. ‘A couple of incendiaries came down close to Lord Cliffe’s manor, and an enemy bomber ditched in the sea. Rita’s still out there dealing with the fire up at the manor, but all in all we got away lightly compared to Portsmouth, which took the brunt of
the attack.’
‘That’s good,’ she said, turning her back on him and concentrating on the powdered eggs and milk she was stirring in a saucepan. The chickens had obviously been disturbed by the noise last night, for there were no fresh eggs, and this powdered stuff didn’t scramble well at all.
She heard the scrape of a chair against the lino and his muttered greeting to Charity, who immediately started questioning him about why he wasn’t in the forces.
‘I’m forty-four,’ he muttered. ‘And I did my bit in the last war – not that it’s any of your business,’ he added gruffly.
Peggy was alerted to his unusual rudeness. His feathers were well and truly ruffled, and if she didn’t do something about it soon, there would be ructions. She continued stirring the scrambled eggs, her thoughts in a whirl. There would be ructions anyway, she concluded, so whatever she did she couldn’t win.
The early morning meal was eaten almost in silence, the atmosphere as tense as it had been the evening before. Peggy could see that Anne and Mrs Finch had noticed the way Jim kept glaring at her, and it was making her most uncomfortable. When Ron came home with a silly grin on his face half an hour later, she was glad of the distraction and hurried to fetch his breakfast.
With the arrival of Suzy and Fran, the mood lightened somewhat, and Peggy felt she could relax a little. ‘You look very pleased with yourself, Ron,’ she murmured over her teacup. ‘Good night, was it?’
‘Well now,’ he beamed, ‘you could say that, Peg. But a gentleman never talks of such things.’
Peggy smiled at the thought of Ron and Rosie finally getting together. Perhaps there might even be a wedding in the family before too long? She finished her tea and started on the washing-up, glad not to have to sit and look at Jim’s grumpy face as he pretended to be immersed in the newspaper. But the time was fast approaching when she knew she couldn’t avoid the confrontation any longer – and in a way, it would be a relief to get it over and done with.
She heard the sound of someone at the front door, followed by weary footsteps in the hall. A moment later, Julie appeared in the kitchen. The poor girl looked exhausted.
‘I’ll be off then,’ said Charity as she clattered her empty cup into the saucer. ‘Yon train’s due in an hour and I don’t want to miss it. Goodbye, Miss Harris.’ She gave a curt nod in Julie’s direction, then stomped out into the hall.
Peggy followed her and opened the front door as Charity picked up her case and gas-mask box.
‘I can’t say it’s been a pleasure,’ said Charity. ‘Always been one to speak me mind.’
‘So I noticed,’ said Peggy dryly. ‘Goodbye, Miss Farnsworth. Safe journey.’
She watched as Charity lumbered down the steps and strode down Beach View Terrace towards Camden Road. ‘And good riddance,’ she hissed before slamming the door.
‘Right, Peggy Reilly. It’s time you and me had a talk.’
Peggy turned and found she was staring at Jim’s chest. She looked up into his face and realised the moment had come. ‘We’ll talk upstairs,’ she said firmly, and eased round him before running up to their bedroom.
He followed her through the door and shut it behind him. There was no cheeky smile, no wicked twinkle in his eye as he leaned against the door – just a stony glare and a chin that jutted with determination. ‘Well?’ he demanded.
‘Now, Jim, there’s no call to get all hot and bothered,’ she said, her nerve beginning to fail her. ‘I admit I told a fib, but really, there is absolutely nothing sinister behind it.’
‘It’s not like you to lie at all. What have you been up to, Peggy?’
‘I didn’t go shopping the other afternoon,’ she confessed, twisting her hands nervously in the folds of her apron. ‘Because I had an important appointment to keep.’
He folded his arms, his eyes narrowing. ‘Who with? And why was it so important you had to lie to me about it?’
‘Jim Reilly, shut up a minute and let me talk,’ she hissed. ‘I can’t think straight with you glaring at me like that.’
She could feel her heart pounding and her mouth was dry, but there was no turning back from this. ‘I’ve been feeling run-down and tired lately, and went to see Dr George at the Hazelwood clinic to ask him for a tonic to buck me up,’ she said quickly. ‘I thought I might be going through the change, or something. Things haven’t been right for a while.’
His suspicion and anger immediately disappeared and he hurried towards her with concern in his eyes. ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, is there, Peg?’ he asked hoarsely.
She shook her head. ‘Not wrong exactly,’ she murmured, not daring to look at him. She took a very deep breath and the words came out in a rush. ‘I’m three months pregnant, Jim.’
‘What?’
Everyone in the kitchen looked up at Jim’s roar. ‘It sounds like Mum’s told him something he’s not too pleased about,’ muttered Anne, packing away the duster and polish under the sink. ‘I think it might be best if we all make ourselves scarce until it blows over. Those two can go at it hammer and tongs, but when they make up afterwards it gets embarrassing.’
‘I’ll get out of me finery and take Harvey into the hills,’ muttered Ron, who was still wearing a silly grin and his best suit.
‘Suzy and I will probably sleep through it all,’ said Fran, ‘but if you think that’s bad, you should hear my Da and Mammy clearing the air. They can be heard all the way from Dublin to Bantry Bay.’
Julie finished her breakfast and carried her dish to the sink as Jim’s loud voice continued to drift down to them, the words indistinct and giving no hint of what the argument was about. It was quite like old times, she thought sadly. Mum and Dad had always enjoyed a good row – but Anne was right. It got embarrassing when they started cooing and making up afterwards.
‘It’s still a bit early, but I think I’ll take William to visit Eileen and then Kath, and share me good news,’ she said. ‘What about you, Anne?’
‘A stroll along the seafront and a cup of tea down at the kiosk will suit me just fine after that long night. Rose Margaret could do with some fresh air, and I’m going to miss the sea when I’m in Somerset.’
Julie’s happiness at knowing William would never be taken from her now that Charity had left for Yorkshire made her glow on the inside, and she knew it showed on her face. She smiled as Jim’s great shout of laughter rang out upstairs. ‘Whatever it was seems to have blown over,’ she murmured. ‘But I think we should leave them to it anyway.’
Chapter Twenty
WHAT WITH RON acting like a lovesick schoolboy, and Jim going about with a great silly grin on his face, the last week had not been easy for Peggy. It was all right for Ron – his romancing of Rosie Braithwaite was common knowledge, and half the town had seen them mooning over one another at the Grand Hotel dance – but Jim was another matter entirely. It had been the devil’s own job to stop him from broadcasting their news to all and sundry, and she’d had to resort to dire threats when she suspected he was on the verge of blurting it out. The discovery had shocked her to the core and she’d barely had time to take it in, let alone make it public.
The day had arrived when Anne would be leaving for Somerset, and Jim broached the subject once again as they were getting dressed. ‘I don’t see why we can’t tell Anne and the rest of the family,’ he complained. ‘After all, ’tis a wondrous thing.’
Peggy finished brushing her hair and watched him in the mirror as he stood behind her and buttoned his shirt. ‘If we tell Anne she’ll refuse to go to Somerset, and you know it isn’t safe for her here, not now she’s got Rose Margaret.’
‘Well, she’ll have to know sooner or later,’ he muttered. ‘You can’t hide something like that for long.’
‘I’ll write to her when she’s good and settled down there, and when I’m ready,’ she said firmly.
He put his arms about her waist, his chin resting lightly on her shoulder as he regarded their reflections in the mirror. ‘Are you not happy ab
out this baby, Peg? Is that why you’re so reluctant to tell anyone?’
She turned within his embrace and leaned her cheek on his chest. ‘I really don’t know how I feel,’ she confessed. ‘It’s all come as such a shock, and one minute I’m over the moon, the next I’m dreading it.’ She looked up at him. ‘I’m a grandmother, Jim. I shouldn’t be having a baby, not at my age.’
‘Ach, you’re a wee spring chicken, and grandparents or not, I’m tickled pink.’ He puffed out his chest and gave her a broad smile.
‘I might be the chicken, but don’t go playing the old rooster with me, Jim Reilly. It won’t be you giving birth to it, getting up in the middle of the night to feed it, or washing nappies and dealing with croup and—’
He silenced her with a kiss.
She pushed him away finally, and turned to make the bed. That was the sort of behaviour that had got her into this mess, and although she absolutely adored him, she simply couldn’t think straight when he kissed her like that. And she needed her wits about her today, for Anne’s departure would be hard enough to bear, without worrying over Jim’s inability to keep his mouth shut.
‘I just hope Cissy and Anne won’t take the news too badly,’ she murmured as she pummelled the pillows. ‘It won’t be easy for them to come to terms with their mother having a baby after all these years. As for Doris, well, she’ll probably refuse to speak to me ever again.’
Jim snorted. ‘As far as that sister of yours is concerned, then it would be a blessing. Doris is a terrible snob, so she is, and you don’t see eye to eye at all, so I’m surprised you even care what she might think.’
Peggy giggled as she straightened the eiderdown. ‘She winds me up like a clock when she comes round here turning her nose up at everything. I might enjoy telling her, just to see the look on her face. It’s bound to be priceless.’
Jim stilled her by taking her hand. ‘I don’t care about Doris, or how the other wains take it,’ he said softly. ‘I care about you, and how you feel. ’Tis a miracle, Peggy, and I want you to rejoice in it with me.’