Tom pushed his sandwich away from him. ‘I’ve got a lot to do. It won’t be long before we’ll have to think about harvesting what’s left of the fruit and vegetables so you can preserve them for the winter.’ He studied the envelope that sat accusing him in the middle of the table. ‘You know Margaret’s a good girl but she can’t be in two places at once.’
Ivy grabbed a tea towel as she turned to face him. ‘This isn’t about preserving food, this is about Annie.’ She used the cloth to vigorously dry her hands. ‘I truly don’t know how you can turn your back on her. The country is at war for goodness sake, anything could happen to her or us; our lives could be cut short. It all feels so cold, so callous, and yet I know you are not that man.’
Tom started pacing back and forth, roughly running his fingers through his hair.
Ivy watched him; he had a haunted look about him when he finally stopped pacing. ‘Why are you doing this to yourself? Is it because of your sister?’
Tom looked grief-stricken when he met her gaze. ‘No, it isn’t.’ He paused. ‘I didn’t think Annie would leave, I thought she would back down and stay with us.’
Ivy kept her eyes fixed on her husband. ‘I think it is about your sister. You’re just not admitting it to me, or more importantly, to yourself. Annie isn’t Dot, and she didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye. She didn’t leave in the dead of night and without a word, like your sister did.’
Tom sank down on a wooden chair at the kitchen table. He closed his eyes for a second. ‘They were hard times. My father was trying to deal with losing my mother and then Dot just disappeared without a word. You know, you were living with it as well. Looking outside every few minutes, the not knowing whether she was alive or not, and yet hoping she would walk back through the front door again.’
Ivy shook her head. ‘I remember, it was awful, but that’s not Annie.’ She pushed the letter towards him. ‘Annie is writing to us and you do know she’s safe. We haven’t lost her.’ She stood up and walked over to him. ‘She’s your daughter, Tom Cradwell, did you really think she would back down?’ Ivy wrapped her arms around her husband and he held on to her. His natural earthy smell consumed her. ‘She didn’t want to leave, not like that, but your daughter is of a different generation. It strikes me they’re more determined than we were at that age.’
Tom pulled away a little. ‘What do you mean?’
Ivy gave him a weary smile. ‘She’s coming to the age where marriage might be round the corner.’
Tom shook his head. ‘I don’t understand why she just couldn’t have married Sam, there’s a lot worse out there.’
Ivy smiled. ‘We’re partly to blame for that.’
‘What?’
‘It’s simple really.’ Ivy smiled at her husband’s wide-eyed expression. ‘She wants the love we have, and of course, if she’d married him then she would never have known if she could have made her dream come true.’
Tom frowned. ‘Did you have dreams that you gave up on when you married me?’
Ivy laughed. ‘Tom Cradwell, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you but sometimes you are the most frustrating person I have ever met.’
Tom shrugged. ‘I’m just asking. I wouldn’t want you to have spent all our married life with hidden secrets or regrets.’
Ivy shook her head. ‘Do you remember that time you were rushing through the village on your bicycle?’ Her eyes lit up. ‘It was when we saw each other as adults for the first time, instead of the childhood friends we were. I’ll never forget it, you nearly killed me with that blooming thing.’
Tom laughed. ‘Yes, I do remember. How could I forget? It was that day that I suddenly realised you were going to be my wife one day.’
Ivy blushed. ‘Yes, it was that day that I realised how much I loved you. You were always my good friend, always there when I needed someone, and I don’t know when that changed to being in love.’
‘Maybe it didn’t change, maybe we were always in love and just hadn’t known what love was.’ Tom drew her in close and held her tight.
Ivy nestled into his arms. His heart was beating in her ears. The fresh warm air clung to his thin cotton shirt, which tightened around the taut muscles in his back. She reluctantly pulled back. ‘So, in answer to your question, my dream was to marry you, so no I didn’t give anything up to fulfil my dreams.’
Tom pulled her back close to his chest. ‘Have I been selfish wanting the life we have? I know it hasn’t been easy for you.’
Ivy closed her eyes, enjoying his warmth. ‘No, Tom, you’ve provided well for your family. Yes, it’s been hard at times but we’ve spent every day and night together since we married so how lucky does that make us?’
Tom squeezed her tight. His voice was husky with emotion when he finally spoke. ‘You’ve made me the happiest man in the world and I have no regrets about our life together, except for two things. One, when you use my full name because then I know I’m in trouble.’ He leant back a little. ‘And two, Annie. I don’t know how to put it right.’
‘You could start by reading her letters and then maybe write to her.’
Tom shook his head. ‘I’m no good at writing letters, or talking about girly stuff.’ He chuckled. ‘That’s what you do.’
‘Well,’ Ivy chuckled. ‘I’m obviously pleased you still see me as able to be girly, but what are you going to do about Annie if you’re not going to write to her?’
Tom stepped back. He ran his hands down her arms and held her hands in his, before tilting his head to one side. ‘I was hoping you would step in and write to her.’
Ivy held his hands tight. They were rough after many years of working the land. Her fingers smoothing the hard, dry skin that had formed. ‘How did I know that was coming?’ Ivy shook her head. ‘I’ve been writing to her anyway so I will say you’re getting over your sulk.’ She smiled as she caught Tom’s horrified expression. ‘I obviously won’t use those words but that’s what it boils down to.’ Ivy released her hands from his and reached for the letter on the table. ‘Now read it. If what she says is true, she’s doing fine.’
‘Is that Annie’s…’
Ivy and Tom both looked round at the same time. The door thudded shut behind Margaret.
‘Sorry, am I interrupting something? I’ll go back––’
‘No, you’re not.’ Tom eyed his youngest daughter. ‘You look hot.’
Margaret saw the letter in her mother’s hand. ‘I’ve… er… it’s baking out there so I’ve come in for a drink of water.’
Tom studied his daughter. ‘Or you saw the postman arrive.’
Margaret turned round to leave the house again. ‘I’ll come back later for a drink.’
‘Margaret.’ Tom’s voice stopped her in her tracks and she slowly turned back to face her father. ‘Come and have your drink and you might as well give yourself a few minutes and read Annie’s letter.’
Margaret’s eyes lit up. ‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’ Tom smiled. ‘I’ve got some making up to do.’ He gave his wife a kiss and picked up the remaining part of his sandwich before walking towards the front door. ‘See you both later.’ He turned and let his gaze rest on Ivy for a few minutes; he was sure she was losing weight but he knew there was no point asking her, she would only deny it.
*
Annie walked into Kitty’s small dressing room and there were clothes scattered everywhere. There was a staleness about the room as though it had been shut up for some time, but looking around her she knew that wasn’t the case. She looked around for a candle to light but there wasn’t one. Perhaps she would bring some lavender in tomorrow. Stooping down, she picked up a long red scarf that was dangling off the side of the chair and folded the soft material in half and in half again. She opened one of the small drawers to the side of the dressing table and noticed a silver photo frame face down. Annie looked over her shoulder before picking it up and studying it for a moment. She wondered who the beautiful young girl could be. She didn�
�t look any older than about ten or eleven. Her dark hair was curled in ringlets resting neatly on her shoulders and her eyes sparkled with excitement. Was this Kitty’s daughter? She looked like her, but then why hide the photograph away? Why wouldn’t it be on top of the dressing table for all to see?
The thud of footsteps along the hallway made her replace the photo just as she’d found it but it got caught on something buried under a cloth. Quickly moving it aside she noticed a glass bottle but didn’t have time to think about it. In her haste to shut the drawer she trapped her finger in it.
Stan cleared his throat from the doorway. ‘Ah good, you came back then, I wasn’t sure you would after the show last night.’
Annie spun round, her face screwed up with pain.
‘Are you all right?’
She quickly removed her hand from around her throbbing finger. ‘Yes, sorry, I trapped my finger earlier and it’s just a little sore.’
Stan nodded as he stepped further into the room. ‘Well, I hope it soon feels better.’ He waved his arm in front of him. ‘As you can see from the state of this room, Kitty has been long overdue a dresser. I’m afraid she needs organising and you will need to keep a close eye on her.’
Annie glanced around her and shook her head. ‘Yes, I should have done it last night but as my pa would say, “I was too busy running around like a headless chicken” to worry about clearing everything up.’ She hesitated for a moment before looking back at Stan. ‘Would it be impertinent of me to ask what happened to her last one?’
‘Kitty is every inch a star, and a beautiful woman, but let’s just say she’s at the age where she worries about her future so she needs pandering to a little bit.’
Annie absently rubbed her finger again. ‘So, are you saying I need to be careful?’
Stan’s lips tightened. ‘Look, you and your friend created your own piece of luck when you managed to sneak into this theatre and I admire that, but my guess is it was more your friend than you.’
Heat began to rise up Annie’s neck but she remained silent.
‘Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble but I do want you to heed my warning and protect yourself because Kitty, as talented as she is, can have quite a mouth on her when she wants to… but she’s a lovely, kind hearted woman when she’s not acting the star.’
‘Thank you, sir, I will do my best.’
Stan nodded before turning to leave the room but then stopped and looked back. ‘By the way, just a little tip, you won’t need to come in before early afternoon if the room is tidied up before you go home in the evening.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t forget you will soon need to start boxing everything up ready to be moved to the Aldwych Theatre. Good luck.’ He chuckled and left the room.
Annie shook her head and stepped nearer the sink. She looked around her; this was going to take some tidying up. Unwashed cups seemed to be on every surface. Loose tea leaves were scattered in the sink. Clothes were strewn everywhere, including the floor. Did everything need boxing up today? Sighing, she began collecting the cups and leaving them in the sink. It wasn’t long before she was humming one of her favourite hymns from church. Unable to resist, Annie started singing the words softly as she picked up gowns and placed them on hangers.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful,
The Lord God made them all.
‘Very nice.’
Annie immediately stopped singing and turned to face the voice she didn’t know. Colour filled her cheeks as she recognised the pianist leaning against the doorframe. ‘Sorry, it’s a habit. I’m afraid I like to sing, especially when I’m working.’
‘Don’t apologise, you have a lovely voice. By the way, I’m Matthew, Matthew Harris, the pianist and Musical Director here.’
‘Hello, Mr Harris, I’m Kitty’s new dresser, Annie Cradwell. I’m sorry I don’t mean to be forward but I don’t know Kitty’s full name.’
Matthew smiled. ‘You’re in for a treat. She likes to be known as Miss Smythe unless she tells you to call her otherwise.’
Annie nodded. ‘I’ll try to remember that.’
Matthew walked further into the room and flopped down onto the chaise longue and lifted his long legs so they were stretched out in front of him. ‘I don’t know why Kitty has one of these, they’re so uncomfortable.’
Annie eyed him for a moment and wondered why he was making himself comfortable; she wanted to ask him to leave but didn’t have the nerve. She decided to carry on as though he wasn’t there, but without the singing. She turned to straighten the make-up bottles and jars on the dressing table, all the time feeling his eyes on her.
‘You know you have a beautiful voice? You can certainly hold a note and could go far with a bit of training. Is that what you’d really like to do instead of tidying up after someone?’
Annie felt her stomach churn as excitement gripped her. She turned to face him. ‘Oh yes, there’s nothing I would like more than to be up on the stage singing my heart out.’
Matthew smiled. His eyes held a glint of something she had never seen before. ‘I could make it happen for you but you’d have to meet me every day to practise, either here or at my home.’
Annie clapped her hands together before her reality took hold and her shoulders slumped. ‘I’m not sure I can afford lessons, although it’s very kind of you to offer, Mr. Harris.’
‘Please call me Matthew, and don’t worry about paying me right now. We can sort something out later when you’ve had a few lessons and we know how long it’s all going to take.’
Annie’s jaw dropped a little. ‘What, you’d do that for me, even though you don’t know me?’
‘I’ve heard your voice so what more is there to know? I say if you want to succeed it’s necessary to take hold of every opportunity that presents itself.’
Once again Annie’s grandfather’s words bounced into her head and she knew she had to make the most of the gift that was being offered to her. ‘Gosh, I didn’t expect this when I came here this morning, thank you.’
Matthew gave her a broad grin. ‘I can assure you the pleasure is going to be all mine.’
*
Peter squinted in the midday sunshine as he watched Annie and Rose’s smiling faces as they leant on the Westminster Bridge railings before he glanced back at Joyce. ‘Yer know we take all this for granted.’
Joyce peered over at her friends. ‘It’s sometimes good to see things through other people’s eyes.’
Peter stared down at the water.
‘What is it?’
Peter shook his head. ‘Nothing.’ He glanced back at the girls smiling faces. ‘Do yer know ’ow long they’re staying for?’
‘No, but it could be permanent now they’ve both found jobs.’ Joyce paused for a moment. ‘I’m really pleased because I have missed them.’
Peter nodded but his eyes were fixed on the girls. ‘Yer know the papers are full of war talk.’ He sighed. ‘They’ve already appointed Kitchener as War Minister and the newspapers are appealing for men to enlist in the army.’
Joyce took a sharp intake of breath. ‘You won’t sign up, will you?’
Silence stood between them.
‘You’ve got your business and family to think about.’ Joyce couldn’t hide the wave of panic that suddenly hit her. ‘Simon’s the same.’
Peter shrugged. ‘To be honest I don’t know what to do. There’s all this talk about ’ow we should fight for King and country, it makes yer feel yer should.’
Joyce shook her head. ‘Don’t rush into anything. Give yourself time to think about who will look after your mother and your business.’
Rose glanced across at Annie. ‘Isn’t it wonderful?’
Peter smiled as he watched Annie grinning at the small children leaning over the black ornate railings of Westminster Bridge as they waved vigorously at the boats chugging through the water towards them.
Annie raised her hand
and copied the children, waving at the men and boys as their boats rippled through the water. ‘Oh, they’re waving back.’ She giggled.
Rose laughed. ‘You wouldn’t think you could find something so wonderful surrounded by so many people and tall buildings.’
Peter leant back on the railings and looked over at the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. ‘How yer enjoying being West End girls?’
Annie turned and followed his gaze. ‘It’s always so busy and yet I love it. I love things like this.’ She waved her arm at the large buildings that formed the skyline in front of her. ‘And then there’s this…’ She turned back to the River Thames to watch the water meandering along its course. ‘It’s amazing.’
Laughing, Peter stepped nearer to the girls before leaning over the black iron railings. ‘My gran used to bring me here when I was a child. I can remember wanting to get on a boat and sail away on an adventure.’
Annie stopped laughing as she looked across at him. ‘And did you?’
‘No, of course not, I was just a kid.’
Annie frowned. ‘But it was something you wanted to do.’
Peter patted her soft hands that were clasped together in front of her. ‘Don’t look so sad, I was a child and some things aren’t right because they’re born out of ignorance.’
Annie’s stomach fluttered at his touch. She took a breath and shook her head. ‘Have you ever been on a boat?’
Peter laughed. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’ Annie turned to face the other direction so she could release her hands from his touch.
Peter shrugged and glanced over at Joyce. ‘I suppose life takes over sometimes and decisions are made for you.’
a heartwarming WW1 saga about love and friendship (The West End Girls Book 1) Page 12