by Ellie Dean
Peggy had arrived back at Beach View to find the place in chaos. Ron had clearly forgotten to shut the shed door properly, and Queenie had found the pheasants he’d hung in there and was in a frenzy of excitement with her trophies. There were bits of bird and feather all over the back garden, Harvey was rolling luxuriously in the stinking carcasses, and Cordelia was having hysterics.
Peggy grabbed Queenie’s scruff and quickly shut her in Ron’s basement bedroom, where she yowled and scratched in fury to be let out. Then she snatched up the length of rope that was tied to a hook outside the back door and threaded it through Harvey’s collar. ‘You should have known better,’ she scolded.
Harvey immediately slumped down as if the weight of the evil world was on his shoulders, his amber eyes looking up at her in contrition.
‘And it’s no good you looking at me like that,’ she snapped. ‘You’re a bad, bad dog.’ With that, she went back into the basement and tried to calm Cordelia. ‘I know it isn’t a pretty sight,’ she said. ‘But the birds were already dead and they didn’t feel anything.’
‘It’s the blood and feathers everywhere,’ Cordelia spluttered. ‘I can’t stand them, really I can’t. How could dear little Queenie do that? And as for Harvey rolling about in it all . . .’ She shuddered as the tears streamed down her face.
‘Unfortunately it’s in a cat’s nature to mess with birds,’ soothed Peggy above the cat’s yowling and Harvey’s whimpers. ‘But it’s all right, Cordelia. I’ll clean up the mess after I’ve made you a lovely cup of tea. How about that?’
‘That would be nice,’ she said, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘Oh, dear, Peggy, I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed. ‘I heard the noise, but by the time I got down the steps it was too late to do anything.’
‘It’s not your fault, Cordelia. Ron should have secured the shed door properly,’ Peggy replied grimly as Harvey howled piteously and Queenie took up the protest from behind Ron’s bedroom door.
Daisy decided she didn’t like Cordelia crying, the animals complaining or her mother getting cross with everyone, so she began to wail. Her little face reddened as she bawled, waved her fists about and kicked off her blankets so they fell in the gore on the doorstep.
‘Oh, for pity’s sake,’ muttered Peggy, ‘that’s all I need.’ She left Daisy to her tantrum, helped Cordelia up the stone steps to the kitchen and settled her at the table before she went back down to get Daisy out of her pram.
‘Stop that,’ she said firmly as Daisy kicked and fought against her. ‘Stop it at once, or I’ll put you to bed and shut the door on you.’
Whether it was her tone of voice, the determined look on her face, or the threat of something that had happened to her before, Daisy’s tantrum petered out into hiccups and the odd fat tear rolling down her little face.
‘That’s better,’ said Peggy, carrying her up the steps and putting her on the floor by her wheeled horse. ‘Now you play with that while I make tea, check on the stew and go and clean up that mess.’
Order was restored eventually, but there was still no sign of Ron, and Harvey was howling fit to bust outside the back door. Thankfully, it seemed Queenie had finally given up on her protests, and Peggy suspected she was sleeping off her feast of filched pheasant on Ron’s bed.
With Cordelia happily sipping her tea and keeping an eye on Daisy, Peggy went down the steps and turned the hose on Harvey to wash away the muck and feathers from his coat. Once this was achieved, she gingerly wrapped the chewed remains of the birds in newspaper and shut them firmly in the shed for Ron to deal with when he put in an appearance. Filling a tin bucket with soapy water, she gave the back step a good scrubbing, then tipped the dirty water into Ron’s garden butt.
Feeling very put-upon and out of sorts, Peggy let Harvey free, checked on Queenie who was indeed curled up and fast asleep on Ron’s bed, and then went up to the kitchen for a well-deserved fag and a sit-down.
She regarded Harvey who was warily keeping an eye on her as he lay in front of the range, and gave a sigh. Every day was a struggle without having to cope with cats and dogs and blasted pheasants, but she supposed she’d laugh about it once she’d calmed down. Life at Beach View could never be described as boring, that was for sure.
‘What are all those feathers doing floating about my vegetable plot?’ Ron ambled into the kitchen minutes later, tracking dirty footprints across her clean linoleum.
‘For goodness’ sake, Ron, get those boots off and clean up after yourself,’ Peggy snapped. ‘I have quite enough to do without having to run about after you.’
His wayward brows shot up and his eyes widened in surprise at her unusual sharpness. ‘What’s bitten you?’
‘I’d give you a list if I had a week to read it out to you,’ she said tartly, and went on to tell him about the chaos she’d come home to. ‘So I’m leaving you in charge while I’m out collecting April,’ she finished, stubbing out her cigarette. ‘And woe betide you if you let that stew burn or the potatoes boil dry.’
‘To be sure, Peggy girl, ye’re not in the best of moods today, are you?’ he grumbled. ‘And here’s me thinking you’d be all relaxed and happy after your lunch out.’
‘Are you surprised?’ She finished the cup of tea and reached for her coat. ‘There are things we need to talk about, Ron,’ she said quietly. ‘So don’t make any plans to go out tonight.’
‘But I—’
‘But nothing,’ she snapped, thoroughly fed up with everyone. ‘You’ll stay here for once and no excuses. Do you hear me?’
‘Aye, and I should think half the street can too,’ he muttered.
Peggy glanced up at the clock. If the train had come in as expected, then April would already have been at the station for half an hour. She pulled on her coat, grabbed her handbag and gas mask, and ran down the cellar steps to fetch her bicycle. It would be quicker than walking, and she was so fired up over everything, she certainly had the energy to tackle the steep High Street.
Ron stood in the doorway and watched her departure with a sense of foreboding. Peggy was on her high horse, and that usually spelled trouble. But he suspected she had more on her mind than pheasants, and because he was already feeling guilty about his recent escapades, he mentally prepared himself to face her accusations. Life could be very difficult at times, he thought woefully as he returned to the kitchen, especially when women got involved.
An awkward silence had fallen between them as April refused to be coaxed into revealing more about herself, and she breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened and a small, bustling woman in her forties came bursting into the cottage.
‘So sorry I’m late, but we had a right to-do at home and I had to sort it out.’ She took in the tea things at a glance and smiled at April. ‘Hello, dear. I’m Peggy Reilly, and I see you’ve been right royally entertained by my friends. I must say, I could do with a cuppa myself after cycling up that blessed hill.’
‘It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Reilly,’ said a rather taken aback April. Mrs Reilly wasn’t at all what she’d expected – for she was so energetic and pretty, and a far cry from the landladies much lampooned by comedians.
‘You must call me Peggy,’ she said as she shed her coat and gloves and plumped herself down by the table. ‘I’m not one for formalities, as these two will tell you.’ She took the cup of tea from Ethel and sipped it gratefully. ‘Oh, that’s better,’ she sighed.
‘I made scones for you to take ’ome,’ said Ethel. ‘I expect you already got the tea on the go, so you can ’ave them after.’
Peggy turned to April. ‘Ethel’s trying her best to fatten everybody up,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Anyone would think there wasn’t a war on.’
She made them all laugh as she told them about the cat and the pheasants, and then finished her tea. ‘Come on, dear, we’d better let these good people get on, and make our way home. I’ve left Ron and Cordelia in charge of Daisy, and goodness knows what sort of chaos I’ll find. If it’s anything like last
time, there’ll be ructions, and no mistake.’
Ethel fetched April’s coat. The cat stirred from sleep and promptly jumped up into the warm chair April had just vacated, and Peggy took the cake tin from Ethel which held the quickly prepared, delicious jam and cream scones.
‘Thank you so much for everything,’ said April as Stan tied her case firmly to the back of Peggy’s bike, and Ethel watched them from the doorway.
‘Glad to help,’ he said. ‘Now you make sure you come and visit me and Ethel whenever the mood takes you. I can show you round my garden and the allotment, and tell you stories about the folk of Cliffehaven and what they get up to.’
‘He’s nothing but an old gossip,’ said Peggy fondly. ‘But his stories are definitely worth listening to.’ She kissed him and Ethel and then pushed her bike down the short path. ‘It’s not too far to walk,’ she said once they were out of earshot of their hosts. ‘You’re not too tired, are you, after that long journey?’
‘I’m fine, really, and Stan and Ethel were such lovely company, I already feel quite at home.’
Peggy paused as they reached the other side of the humpbacked bridge. ‘They’re the salt of the earth,’ she said, ‘and I so hope you’ll be happy here with me. Beach View might not be a palace, but I like to think it’s homely, and that any girl who stays with me will be cared for as if she was my own.’
The tears pricked and April had to blink them away. The kindness of strangers had touched her heart. They’d made her welcome and offered sanctuary – and yet she was betraying all that by keeping the truth hidden. She looked at Peggy, the words trembling on her lips, the need to begin this new life with a clean slate suddenly very important.
‘It’s all right, dear,’ murmured Peggy as she patted April’s cheek. ‘I can tell you’ve been having a hard time of it recently, but that’s at an end now. You’ll be safe with me, and we’ll look after you for as long as you need.’
April was so deeply touched by this that she threw caution to the wind and gave her a hug. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ she breathed. ‘You have no idea what this means to me.’
Peggy hugged her back. ‘Oh, I think I do, dear,’ she murmured. She drew back from the embrace, her eyes suspiciously bright. ‘Now, come on, it’s late and the others will be waiting for their tea.’
‘She’s a nice little lass, isn’t she?’ said Stan as he closed the door and followed Ethel back into the main room.
‘She seems pleasant enough,’ said Ethel, clearing away the plates and starting on the washing-up. ‘But I reckon there’s more to ’er than meets the eye, Stan, and so I wouldn’t get carried away too quick, like you usually do.’
‘That’s not like you, Et,’ he said with a frown. ‘You’ve always been very supportive when it comes to girls like that.’
Ethel plunged her hands into the hot soapy water. ‘I’m not saying she don’t deserve a bit of ’elp, it’s clear she’s been through it and then some. I’m just saying that I reckon she’s ’iding something under all that posh voice and pretty smile.’
Stan decided Ethel was just being fanciful, so didn’t pursue this. ‘She reminds me a bit of Mildred when she was that age,’ he mused as he reached for the tea towel to help with the drying-up. ‘Although they’ve got different colouring, and there’s something softer and far more vulnerable in April than there ever was in my sister – there is something about her . . .’
‘Soppy old git,’ she said fondly. ‘A sob story and a pair of blue eyes never fail to touch you, do they?’ She glanced at the cup he was mangling in the tea towel and her tone sharpened. ‘Watch what yer doing, Stan, them cups are the good ones.’
Stan concentrated harder on drying his mother’s precious china as Ethel briskly finished the washing-up and carried the bowl outside to empty it into the butt which he used to water his garden. Despite Ethel’s rather surprising opinion of April, he’d liked her – felt sorry for her in fact. He knew a troubled, lonely girl when he saw one, but he was also curious as to why she was troubled, and how it was she’d ended up in Cliffehaven with Peggy. He mulled this over and came to the conclusion that perhaps Peggy’s earlier slip of the tongue had held more truth than he’d realised. Perhaps she really was in the family way? He decided not to share this thought with Ethel, for she could be a bit of a stickler when it came to things like that, and was already prepared not to like the girl.
‘And I’ll tell you something else, Stanley Dawkins,’ said Ethel as she returned from the garden with a bowlful of freshly picked vegetables. ‘That girl will be trouble. You mark my words.’
Stan felt very uneasy. ‘Why do you say that?’ he asked carefully.
Ethel dumped the bowl in the sink and reached for a sharp paring knife. ‘A woman’s intuition, Stanley. That’s what.’
Stan tried to laugh this off. ‘You and your intuition. It’ll get you into hot water one day, my pet.’ To distract her, he nuzzled her neck, which made her giggle, then he reached for his coat. ‘The next train’s due, but I’ll not be long, and then we can settle down to a lovely cosy evening.’
Holding a potato in one hand and the knife in the other, she turned and kissed him. ‘You can mock, Stan, but a woman’s intuition is rarely wrong. You wait. You’ll see I was right about that gel.’
Stan shrugged on his coat and went out into the gathering darkness, utterly bemused by Ethel’s ability to get straight to things others simply couldn’t see – but then he’d be the first to admit that he never had understood women and their odd ways.
18
April could smell the sea as Peggy pushed the bike and they walked down the High Street, but there was nothing about the town that looked familiar, which was rather disappointing. She hoped that in a better light, she might find some remnants of her childhood memories.
‘That’s the fire station where Rita works as a driver and mechanic,’ said Peggy as they turned into Camden Road. ‘She’s one of my evacuees, and has lived in Cliffehaven all her life.’ She went on to give April a potted history of how Rita had been bombed out after her father had been called up, and how she’d been raising money for a second Cliffehaven Spitfire by organising motorcycle races at the old dirt track.
‘This is Cliffehaven General,’ she said rather unnecessarily as they reached the wide entrance to the hospital where the ambulances and Red Cross trucks were lined up. ‘My little Fran works there as a nurse in the theatre. A lovely girl, she is, too, though she can be a bit fiery at times. It’s all that red hair and Irish blood,’ she added with a giggle. ‘Goes off like a firework, she does. But it’s never over anything serious, and soon blows over.
‘And that’s the uniform factory,’ she said, barely pausing for breath as she pointed out the ugly red-brick building that sprawled the width of an entire block. ‘A couple of my girls have worked there in the past, and Mr Goldman seems to be a fair employer.’ She glanced across at April. ‘Have you thought about work at all?’
April nodded. ‘I need to find a job, certainly, but I’ve never worked in a factory and haven’t a clue about sewing. Besides, with this plaster cast, I doubt I’d be much use at anything.’
‘Yes, it will certainly hamper you. When’s it due to be taken off?’
‘In another four weeks, and I can’t wait. It makes me itch.’
Peggy smiled with understanding. ‘What sort of job were you doing before?’
‘I did a secretarial course after school, and then I joined the WRNS, servicing and maintaining boat engines.’
Peggy came to an abrupt halt. ‘Goodness me, how exciting. In that case, I’m sure we can find you something with those sorts of skills. I’ll have a word round and see what there is. Best to get these things organised in advance, so when you’re rid of that plaster, you’ll be all set.’
Peggy’s enthusiasm was heartening, but April felt she had to point out one drawback. ‘It might be difficult to persuade anyone to take me on in my condition, even though I’m sure I can work perfectly well for an
other few months.’
‘Just how far gone are you, dear?’
‘Five months, but I’m very well and perfectly capable of earning my keep.’ April put her hand on Peggy’s arm. ‘Talking of which, I meant what I said about paying extra. I do have the money set aside.’
‘The government pays me once you’ve been registered as an evacuee,’ said Peggy, ‘and that’s the going rate. Keep the money, April, you’re going to need it in the coming months – especially once your baby’s born.’
April said nothing as they continued walking. If she was to keep up the pretence of being engaged, then it was hardly appropriate to tell this lovely woman that she would have the baby adopted as soon as she could.
‘You’ll have to be registered with the doctor, of course,’ said Peggy. ‘And be booked in to see the midwife. She’ll sort you out a bed at the hospital when it’s time, but it’s important you have proper check-ups and receive all the vitamins and such that you’re entitled to.’
She patted April’s arm. ‘Don’t look so worried, dear. My Daisy is less than eighteen months old, so I’m up with all the latest rigmarole when it comes to expecting. You leave it all to me.’
‘Ethel was right,’ said April softly. ‘You really are a diamond, aren’t you?’
‘Get away with you. I’m only doing what any other mother hen would do when her chicks need help.’ As they walked on, Peggy pointed out the bomb site where the school used to be. ‘All my children went there, and Anne taught the little ones.’ She carried on, telling April all about her scattered family.
April could hear the tremor in her voice as she talked about her loved ones, and she knew then that behind that sweet smile there was a breaking heart, which only served to make her like her more.
Peggy continued to point out places of interest as they walked along Camden Road. ‘These are our local shops. You’ll have to register your ration books there, and that’s the Anchor – Ron’s home from home where the love of his life, Rosie Braithwaite, lives.’