Shelter From the Storm

by Ellie Dean

  Having made the bed and tidied the room, she went down the narrow stairs and into the kitchen, where Mildred was going through the post that had arrived the previous day.

  ‘Good morning,’ April said with determined brightness. ‘Wasn’t it lovely to hear the church bells again?’

  ‘Yes, very nice,’ Mildred replied, concentrating on a letter.

  April poured a cup of tea from the pot on the table and sipped it while her toast was browning.

  Mildred set the letter aside. ‘As I haven’t heard to the contrary, I’m assuming you still haven’t managed to find work or accommodation? Are you sure you’ve tried absolutely everywhere?’

  ‘Of course I have,’ April replied flatly. She sat down at the table and smeared some of the horrid margarine on the hot toast. ‘But the minute the accommodation people hear that I’m living with you, they refuse to help, and when I tell employers that I’m pregnant, they show me the door.’

  ‘Then you should learn to be economical with the truth,’ said Mildred crossly. ‘Really, April, you can be very dense at times – rather like your father.’

  ‘Daddy wasn’t dense,’ she retorted. ‘He just liked to be honest – as do I. What’s the point of finding a job and a room to rent if in a month or two I’ll be back on the streets?’ She suddenly didn’t feel at all hungry and pushed the toast away. ‘The only option I have left is a hostel or one of those awful homes for single mothers.’ She regarded her mother across the table. ‘Unless you let me stay here.’

  ‘I have a better idea,’ said Mildred. She picked up the letter she’d been reading. ‘This is from my brother. He’s getting married in mid-June and suggests that if we accept his invitation he can arrange for us to stay with a friend of his – a Mrs Reilly, who owns some sort of boarding house.’

  ‘I don’t see how that’s any help,’ said April. ‘I’ll have to leave here long before June.’

  ‘I’m sure Stan can persuade Mrs Reilly to take you in sooner than that,’ said Mildred. ‘He’s a rather soft, sentimental man, who would never turn you away. I don’t know why I didn’t think of him earlier.’

  ‘The last time I saw Uncle Stan I was about four – which I believe was the last time you saw him too. I hardly remember him, and it would be incredibly rude to just turn up on his doorstep and expect him to help.’

  Mildred waved the objections away. ‘Stan is a great believer in doing the right thing,’ she said dismissively. ‘I grant you, your arrival might prove a little awkward, but if this Mrs Reilly has a boarding house, then I’m sure she’ll take you in if the money’s right.’

  April regarded her steadily. ‘You seem to forget that I have no money.’

  ‘The government pays those taking in evacuees, and I’m willing to add to that if it will get you settled and out of my hair.’

  Stung by this, April squared her shoulders and met her mother’s cool gaze. ‘How very generous of you. And what if Mrs Reilly doesn’t want to take me on in my condition – or has no rooms to let?’

  The hand waved again to negate her objections. ‘You’re just playing devil’s advocate,’ Mildred retorted. ‘Everyone needs a bit of extra money at times like these, and I’m sure Mrs Reilly is no exception. She takes in evacuees and all sorts according to Stan, so a pregnant girl will hardly be a bother, especially if she’s paying over the odds on rent.’

  April felt a tremor of despair as she stared at her mother. ‘Why do you hate me so?’ she asked. ‘What did I ever do to you that stopped you from loving me?’

  Mildred met her gaze briefly and then concentrated on her brother’s letter. ‘This is not the time to get emotional, April, or go into things you simply wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Why not? We’re alone in the house, and once I leave here, I doubt I’ll ever come back. I would have thought it was the perfect opportunity to clear the air.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ her mother said impatiently. ‘You’re attempting to make something out of nothing as usual. Really, April, you can be very trying at times – picking away at things just like your blessed father used to do.’

  April made no comment as it would serve no purpose, but she wished wholeheartedly that Mildred would respect her father’s memory and not use it to put her down all the time.

  Mildred set the letters aside and clasped her hands on the table, her gaze drifting to some spot beyond April’s shoulder. ‘There are other more important things to focus on. You’ll need some decent clothing to take with you – that skirt is far too tight and the rest of it is very shabby. I can’t have you turning up at Stan’s looking like that on top of everything else. He’ll think we’re living in reduced circumstances, and I do have my pride, you know.’

  April snorted softly with derision.

  Mildred carried on as if she hadn’t heard. ‘I’ll also sort out your travel permit and a train ticket to Cliffehaven. You’ll have to barter with this Mrs Reilly over any extra – there’s only so much in my bank account that I can spare over the next four months. After that you’ll have to sort things out for yourself.’

  ‘And when are you planning for me to leave?’

  ‘As soon as the travel permit and ticket are arranged. I suggest you telephone Mrs Reilly and book yourself in for the end of the week. Everything should be through by then.’ She glanced across at April. ‘I also suggest you tell everyone you’re engaged and that your fiancé was sent abroad before you could arrange a wedding. It would be pointless to pretend you were married – your identity papers and so on will prove otherwise.’

  April nodded, for it made sense. ‘Will you be coming down for Stan’s wedding?’

  ‘I really don’t have the time or the inclination,’ Mildred said brusquely. ‘My brother and I have never been close, and I’m sure the invitation was sent more out of duty than anything. But you can make my excuses when you see him. He’s evidently still working at Cliffehaven station.’

  April felt a chill of foreboding as she watched her mother push away from the table and gather up her jacket, gas-mask box and handbag. An invitation sent out of duty was one thing, turning up in need was quite another.

  Mildred pushed the letter across the table. ‘Make that telephone call and then write to Stan to let him know you’re on your way,’ she said, slipping on her jacket. ‘I have to go and do a stock-take, and then I’m out to lunch with friends. I don’t know what time I will be back.’

  The front door slammed behind her and the house fell silent. April burst into tears. She had been effectively abandoned to an uncle she could barely remember and some woman she’d never heard of. She sobbed with distress, longing for someone to care – to tell her it would be all right and that she was no longer alone. But the only company she had was the steady ticking of the kitchen clock.

  15

  Ron was used to ducking and diving and keeping his business to himself, but things had escalated to the point where he was beginning to find life very awkward indeed. Rosie was being unusually demanding of late, expecting him to help in the bar over the Easter weekend, and it had been the devil’s own job to persuade her that he had other commitments which he couldn’t possibly ignore. It helped being part of the Home Guard, of course, for there were always practice manoeuvres and arms training to attend, and nights away were easily explained. But how to get out of afternoon tea with Rosie without making her suspicious – that was the rub, and although he hated lying to her, it was a necessary evil he couldn’t avoid.

  He stomped out of the scullery that morning with Harvey racing on ahead of him and began to tramp up the narrow alleyway towards the hills. Peggy was still giving him funny looks because he’d refused to tell her where he disappeared to several nights a month, but as he was on special duty at the highly secret arms and supply dump hidden deep underground within the hills, he’d had to say it was just night training, or fire-watch duty.

  And then there was Gloria – lovely Gloria, whose presence in his already hectic routine had turned eve
rything upside down. All in all, he wasn’t too happy at the moment, for the women in his life were causing him all sorts of trouble, and there seemed to be no way out of it.

  Harvey had shot off to investigate something in a clump of gorse, and he was about to follow him when he heard a soft mewl behind him. Turning, he saw Queenie streaking up the hill behind him.

  ‘Go back home,’ he said sternly.

  Queenie ignored him and Harvey dashed back to see what all the fuss was about. He sniffed the cat and gave it a lick, then barked and ran in excited circles. Queenie sat down and eyed him imperiously for a moment and then carried on tiptoeing through the grass towards Ron.

  ‘Ach, ye fool animal. Go back, Queenie. This is no place for a wee cat.’

  Queenie shot past him and scampered about in pursuit of Harvey, who seemed to think the whole thing was terrific fun.

  Ron could only see her tail above the grass as she darted about, chasing a fly, and he gave a great sigh of exasperation. ‘Now what?’ he muttered. He decided not to take the cat back to Beach View – it would cost too much time – something of which he had little to spare. He would just keep an eye on her, and next time he’d make sure she was shut indoors when he came for his walks. Peggy would have his guts for garters if Queenie got lost or injured. It seemed that his life was plagued by strong-willed females who took not a jot of notice of anything he might say.

  He kept an eye on Queenie, who bounced about after Harvey rather like Tigger from the children’s books. He noted that Harvey was constantly running back to check on her, and he fervently hoped that nothing would frighten her and send her into hiding – which would mean having to spend hours looking for her. He checked his watch. He was due at the Crown in just over an hour, so he’d have to keep the walk short.

  Lighting his pipe, he strolled through the long grass and admired the scenery. It was the first day of May, and although there was still a mist shrouding Cliffehaven, it promised to be a lovely day. His mood lightened as the fresh air restored him. The news on the wireless was all good, with the Axis forces all but defeated in North Africa and the Americans ousting the Japs from vast areas of the Pacific. His son Jim seemed to be relatively safe and distanced from any fighting in India, as was his elder son, Frank, who was serving out his call-up as a storeman on a military base in the Midlands. Frank would soon be of an age when he was no longer eligible for the services, but Ron suspected he’d continue to do his bit after being demobbed by joining the Home Guard.

  He continued walking, his thoughts turning to Gloria and the Crown. He’d have to be extra careful today, for Rosie had arranged for her barmaids to take over this lunchtime and was meeting Peggy and Cordelia in town to treat themselves to a meal at the new British Restaurant which had just opened up in one of the abandoned shops in the High Street.

  Such restaurants had sprung up all over England, and as they offered three courses of non-rationed food for the princely sum of ninepence, they were excellent value and therefore very popular. Ron wouldn’t have minded trying it out for himself, but as it was, he’d have to make do with whatever was left over from the meeting in Gloria’s function room. Not that this was any hardship, for Gloria always laid on a good spread.

  He checked his watch again and whistled to Harvey, who came galloping towards him, tongue lolling, ears flapping, with Queenie bouncing along some way behind him.

  Ron shook his head. He’d thought he’d seen it all – but a cat coming for a walk and answering to a whistle? He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it. He patted the dog and shooed him in the direction of home and then waited for Queenie to catch up.

  ‘To be sure, you wee scamp, those three legs are doing a grand job, so they are,’ he said, reaching down to scoop up a panting Queenie. Her little heart was thudding and her fur was soaked with dew from the grass. ‘But I’m thinking they could do with a bit of a rest now.’

  Queenie purred as he gently placed her in one of the deep pockets of his poacher’s coat and headed for home.

  As he shut the back gate behind him, Peggy came running out of scullery. ‘I’ve lost Queenie,’ she said, on the verge of tears. ‘I’ve looked everywhere and called and called, but there’s no sign of her.’

  Ron grinned, carefully lifted the purring bundle from his pocket and placed her in Peggy’s arms. ‘She came for a walk with me and Harvey,’ he said. ‘But there’s no harm done.’

  Peggy’s eyes widened in astonishment. ‘A walk? You took the cat for a walk?’

  ‘Ach, to be sure, it was her idea, not mine,’ he said defensively. ‘I was halfway to Tamarisk Bay before I realised she was following us.’ He beamed with pride. ‘But she came when I whistled, which is more than Harvey ever does.’

  Peggy rubbed her face against the soft, rather damp black fur. ‘Thank goodness you didn’t lose her,’ she breathed. ‘I couldn’t bear it if something happened to her.’

  She looked back at Ron and caught him surreptitiously checking his watch. ‘Don’t tell me you’re off somewhere yet again, Ron, because I’ve got a list of things that need doing today.’

  Ron started backing towards the gate in preparation for a quick getaway. ‘Sorry, Peggy, girl, but I’m needed elsewhere all afternoon. You enjoy your lunch.’ He slammed the gate behind him and shot off with Harvey in close pursuit before she could question him any further.

  I’m getting too old for these shenanigans, he thought as he made his way through the back streets that would eventually lead to the yard behind the Crown. But there was an undeniable spring in his step as he turned the final corner and saw Gloria waiting for him by the back door. He might be getting on a bit – some might even say he was past it – but as long as there was fire in his belly he wouldn’t give up on living life to the full.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re up to, Ronan Reilly,’ Peggy muttered. ‘But I’ll find out. You see if I don’t.’ She carried Queenie indoors and dried and fed her before turning her attention to Cordelia, who was looking very smart in a navy dress and jacket and a white straw hat.

  ‘Are you going to be warm enough in that?’

  Cordelia frowned. ‘Of course it’s not corn in my hat. Really, Peggy, you should go and have your eyes tested.’

  ‘I was just asking if you would be warm enough in that dress and coat,’ she repeated rather more loudly. ‘It’s a bit chilly out still.’

  ‘We’re going in a boat? You’re right,’ Cordelia said with a sniff. ‘Of course that would be silly.’

  ‘Cordelia, dear, do turn up your hearing aid,’ Peggy said.

  She fiddled with it. ‘It is up, and there’s no need to shout, Peggy. I’m not that deaf, you know.’

  ‘Not that you’d notice,’ muttered Peggy. ‘I’m going up to see to the spare room,’ she said clearly. ‘The new girl will be arriving this afternoon and I want the poor little thing to feel comfortable and welcome.’

  Cordelia was still fiddling with her hearing aid; making it screech quite horribly until she was satisfied she could hear properly. ‘It comes to something when a girl in the family way has to live with strangers,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t she have any parents or in-laws who could have taken her in?’

  ‘I did ask when she telephoned.’ Peggy collected up the basket of cleaning materials from beneath the sink. ‘But she just said there was no one, and when she had to leave her present place a friend of a friend suggested she rang me.’

  ‘Poor little mite,’ muttered Cordelia. ‘I wonder why she had to leave where she is?’

  Peggy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but she’s obviously desperate for somewhere to stay, and that’s all that concerns me. She even offered me extra money, poor lamb. But she’ll find a safe haven here, never you mind.’

  ‘None safer than with you, Peggy,’ said Cordelia fondly. ’She’s a lucky girl to have been given your number.’

  Peggy chewed her lip. ‘I wonder who gave it to her? I don’t know anyone in Tunbridge Wells and I’ve certainly never been th
ere.’ She shrugged off this minor niggle and checked on Daisy, who’d fallen asleep in her playpen, then hurried upstairs.

  The single room was on the first floor, just along from Cordelia’s double, the bathroom and lavatory. As the girl was pregnant it seemed sensible to have her close to the facilities as Peggy remembered what it was like when she’d been expecting Daisy – running to the lav every five minutes, she’d been.

  She had put fresh linen on the bed the night before, and now she cleaned the windows, dusted the furniture and gave the bare floorboards a good wipe-over with a damp cloth, her thoughts troubled. April Wilton had sounded like an educated sort of girl on the telephone and clearly not short of a bob or two if she was offering to pay extra to live here, so why couldn’t she have stayed where she was? She’d definitely been holding something back during their rather short telephone conversation, but not wanting to probe too deeply, Peggy had accepted that she had nowhere permanent to live, the baby’s father was serving abroad and she didn’t seem to have anyone to care for her. No doubt she’d find out the whole story once the girl had settled in.

  Checking again that her sister Doreen hadn’t left anything in the drawers or wardrobe, Peggy made sure there were plenty of hangers and that fresh paper lined the drawers. Tweaking the bedspread straight, she plumped the pillows so they looked inviting and then, after one final check, closed the door. April was due to arrive on the four o’clock train, and Peggy was aiming to be there to meet her. She just hoped it wouldn’t be delayed as so many trains were these days, for it would put her evening routine right out of kilter.

  She quickly checked the bathroom, pleased to see that the girls had cleaned the bath and run a mop over the floor, and not left wet towels everywhere like Ron was in the habit of doing. She then went into the large double room shared by Ivy and Rita, took one look at the chaos of clothes strewn everywhere, the unmade beds and the clutter on every flat surface, and shut the door. It was what she’d expected really, but she’d have to have a word with them, for as cheeky and lovable as they were, she didn’t approve of them living in such a pigsty.