by Ellie Dean
Her shift was finally over, and she collected Daisy from the playroom where she and the other small children had been kept amused by a retired Norland Nanny who never seemed to lose her patience or her cheerful smile. Peggy didn’t know how she managed it, for the noise was awful, the place was in chaos, and it seemed there was always a baby crying or an argument to settle.
She bumped the pram down the steps past the young Home Guardsman who stood watch by the high piles of sandbags, and set off down the High Street towards the promenade. She could do with a nice cup of tea, a cigarette and a sit-down after spending the morning on her feet without much chance of catching her breath.
The wooden kiosk was three times the size of Ron’s garden shed, and it had been fitted out with a basic kitchen and a couple of tables and chairs, and outside, beneath a blue and white striped awning, were more tables and chairs so that Mabel’s customers could enjoy the fresh air and sea views while they drank their tea. The place was deserted, so Peggy parked the pram and went in to order a pot of tea and some cordial for Daisy.
Mabel was a chatty woman in her early fifties who liked to be kept up with the local gossip as she doled out tea and sympathy as well as dubious homespun advice to anyone who would listen. Her husband and two sons were in the army, while her daughter worked as an observer up at the Fort where Peggy’s nephew Anthony was involved in some highly secret carry-on for the MOD.
Peggy knew better than to gossip about anything with Mabel, for although she was pleasant enough to your face, she liked nothing better than to spread salacious rumours and stick the knife in if someone upset her.
‘It’s a nice surprise seeing you, Peggy,’ she said as she filled the pot from the huge urn behind the counter. ‘I can’t remember the last time you popped in. Meeting someone, are you?’
Peggy saw the inquisitiveness in those grey eyes and shook her head. ‘I need a cuppa before I walk home and start all over again,’ she said.
‘How’s life at Beach View these days? I hear you’ve got a new girl.’
‘That’s right. She started at the telephone exchange this morning.’ Before Mabel could ply her with endless questions, Peggy took the laden tray and carried it outside. She set it down on a table, plucked Daisy from her pram and let her toddle about for a moment, ever mindful of the rolls of barbed wire that were strung between the promenade and the mined beach.
She took off her headscarf and shook out her dark curls, enjoying the sun on her face after the hours spent in the gloom of the town hall. Daisy staggered towards her and gripped her knees, so she lifted her up and sat her on her lap so she could orchestrate the delivery of cordial straight into her mouth and not down her clean clothes.
The manoeuvre wasn’t entirely successful and Peggy was dabbing at the splashes on Daisy’s coat when a girl arrived pushing a pram. Her interest was sparked immediately, for she fitted April’s description of Shirley. Aware that Mabel’s ears were probably flapping, she smiled at her and said nothing as she parked the pram to one side of the kiosk and ordered a pot of tea and a Spam sandwich.
As the girl emerged from the kiosk with her tray, Peggy smiled again. ‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Perfect for sitting out with a nice cuppa.’
The girl gave her an uncertain smile.
‘Why don’t you join me, dear?’ said Peggy. ‘There’s plenty of room and it seems silly not to share a table when there’s only the two of us.’
She hesitated, glancing quickly over her shoulder at Mabel before putting the tray down and checking on the baby which was hidden deep within the pram. Without drawing the pram to the table, she left it in the lee of the kiosk and sat down with a shy smile. ‘Shirley Ryan,’ she said, shaking Peggy’s hand.
Peggy thought it was a bit odd that Shirley seemed reluctant to draw the pram closer, but she smiled and introduced herself and Daisy.
Shirley smiled at Daisy and then poured out the tea. She glanced down the promenade, and then turned back to Peggy. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting someone,’ she said, ‘but it looks as if she isn’t coming.’
‘April asked me to give you this,’ Peggy said quietly as she handed over the note. ‘She’s got a job at the telephone exchange and couldn’t make it this morning. But I know she’d love to meet you another time.’ She gestured towards the note. ‘Our address and telephone number will be in there.’
‘Oh, how kind. Thank you.’ The note was swiftly read and then tucked carefully away in the depths of a cheap handbag. ‘I don’t know if she told you, but we met at the labour exchange.’
Peggy nodded and smiled. ‘Did you manage to get a job at Goldman’s?’
‘Yes. I start as a machinist at the end of the week. They couldn’t take James Elroy before then, you see.’
It was an unusual name, and Peggy suspected it might be American. When she noted the lack of a wedding ring, her natural curiosity was roused. ‘Don’t you have anyone else to look after him while you work?’
The girl blushed and avoided her gaze. ‘Not really.’ She bit into the sandwich as if to preclude any further discussion on the matter, and although she shot Peggy a tentative smile now and again, Peggy could tell she was uneasy.
‘April’s on her own too,’ she said, hoping to draw her out a little. ‘And I think she’s feeling a little lost being so far from home, so it’s lovely that you’ve met.’
‘Yes. She seems very nice,’ Shirley murmured.
‘Have you been in Cliffehaven long?’ Peggy persisted.
‘Just over a year.’
It was clear to Peggy that Shirley Ryan was not a talker, but perhaps that was because she was shy and unwed. She was also very young, and probably reluctant to say much to Peggy who was, after all, a complete stranger.
A grizzle came from the pram which soon turned into loud protest, and Shirley shot to her feet to see to her baby. Lifting him out of the pram, she laid him over her shoulder and rubbed his back before reaching into a bag and pulling out a bottle of thin juice.
‘My goodness, he’s got a good pair of lungs,’ said Peggy. ‘Bless him. Is he teething?’
Shirley nodded and drew the baby from her shoulder to her lap, her gaze constantly darting towards a watchful Mabel.
‘What a lot of lovely dark hair,’ Peggy said in delight. ‘He is a bonny baby. How old is he?’
‘Six months and three weeks,’ said Shirley proudly. ‘He’s usually very good when I take him out, but he’s suffering with his teeth, poor little love.’
Daisy climbed off Peggy’s lap to get a closer look at the baby, and Peggy felt a tug of remorse for her initial disapproval. Shirley clearly adored him, so what did it matter if there was no ring on his mother’s finger?
She watched as Daisy took the baby’s hand and tried in her babyish way to soothe him, but he was having none of it. ‘Would you like me to try and quieten him?’ she offered. ‘I find that sometimes a stranger’s face can soothe.’
Shirley was about to hand him over when Mabel came out of the kiosk, arms folded beneath her large bosom, her expression hostile as she looked at the girl and her baby. ‘I thought I recognised you,’ she said flatly. ‘I’ve told you before that I won’t have your sort here, so sling your hook.’
Peggy gasped, appalled that Mabel could be so rude and unkind. ‘She’s not doing any harm,’ she retorted, ‘and I don’t like your attitude, Mabel.’
‘Like it or lump it,’ said Mabel, who was clearly out of sorts. ‘I don’t want her kind in here frightening off my customers with her illegitimate brat.’
‘There’s only me and I’m enjoying her company,’ snapped Peggy. ‘And what proof have you that the baby’s illegitimate? You need to hold your tongue, Mabel.’
‘Really, Mrs Reilly, it’s all right. We’ll go.’
‘Not until you’ve finished what you’ve paid for,’ said Peggy firmly. ‘As for you, Mabel Wilkins, you should be ashamed of yourself.’
Mabel folded her arms and glared. ‘It’s my kiosk and I h
ave the right to say who I serve. Unmarried girls with babies have no business here. They should be locked away out of sight of decent people.’
Peggy felt like smacking that smug fat face, but just managed to resist. ‘In that case you can refund the cost of her sandwich and tea and we’ll be on our way.’
Mabel looked for a moment as if she was going to argue, but something in Peggy’s expression must have warned her not to dare. She stomped back into the kiosk, opened the till and then stomped back, slamming the money on the table in front of Shirley. ‘You’re nothing but a slut and I don’t want to see you or that brat again.’
Peggy gathered up Daisy, thoroughly riled by Mabel’s disgusting behaviour. ‘I’m sure you’ll see neither of us again,’ she snapped. ‘And I can promise you, Mabel, that I’ll make sure that all the right-thinking people in this town will give your kiosk a wide berth from now on.’
She turned to a distressed Shirley. ‘Come on, dear, we’ll have our cup of tea at my place and leave this sour-faced, vicious old trout to her own devices.’
Shirley gathered up the money and, with shaking hands, strapped the baby back in the pram. ‘Please don’t feel you have to, Mrs Reilly,’ she stammered as they turned their backs on Mabel and her kiosk. ‘I should be used to this by now, and really, I shall be fine in a minute.’
‘I’m sure you will, but the offer was a genuine one, and I really think it would be better all round if we went to Beach View and you had time to catch your breath.’
Shirley hesitated momentarily and then shook her head. ‘It’s really kind of you, and I do appreciate your support, but I have things to do back home.’ Her tears were close to falling as she looked at Peggy. ‘Do you think April will still want to be my friend?’
Peggy’s soft heart went out to her. She was so young and vulnerable, and she wished she could just give her a cuddle and reassure her that not everyone thought like Mabel. She resisted and squeezed her hand instead. ‘I’m sure she will,’ she said softly. ‘And you must come and see me at Beach View. You’ll be made welcome there, I assure you.’
Shirley nodded, blinking away her tears, then hurried off.
Peggy watched until she was out of sight, wondering how often she’d had to put up with such disgusting abuse. It made her feel ashamed that such vile prejudice should rear its ugly head in her beloved town, but she was unfortunately all too aware that behind the closed doors and among the gossiping busybodies, it had always been there – just less blatant.
She finished strapping Daisy into the pram and began the long walk home, her natural tendency to protect and nurture battling with the moral influences that had moulded and shaped her since childhood.
It was only as she arrived back at Beach View that her heart won the battle. The world had changed, the morality of that bygone age had shifted and blurred, and although she couldn’t wholeheartedly approve of girls like Shirley, she knew what it was to be young – to need someone to cling to in times of war – and how easy it was to let things go too far. She was certainly in no position to judge or condemn, for Anne had been born seven months after her marriage to Jim. At the end of the day, they were all sinners, and in these perilous times surely the true way to peace was to open one’s heart and learn to be more tolerant and forgiving?
22
April had quickly felt at home working at the exchange, and if it hadn’t been for the awful dog, she might have enjoyed it even more. However, Miss Gardener didn’t approve of her closing the door while she was working, and Winston had waddled in and sniffed at her legs before shuffling his bottom on the floor and waddling out again, leaving his awful odour behind him. April had opened the window to get rid of it, but Miss Gardener didn’t like open windows in case Winston caught a chill, so April had to put up with it.
She thanked Miss Gardener for helping her with a complicated overseas call and headed outside to take in great deep breaths of glorious fresh air. It was just after three and Bertha had now taken over. Unfortunately she was still out of sorts, and had barely managed a gruff hello, but April didn’t mind – it wasn’t as if she was the sort of woman she wanted to be friendly with anyway.
She came out of the deep shadows that lay behind the town hall and slowly walked up the hill to see if Stan was at the station, and had a few minutes to chat. It was time to get to know him a bit better.
‘Hello, dear,’ he boomed as he set aside his watering can and eased his back. ‘I’m just watering my few bits of spring veg. They seem to like it here on the platform.’
‘Hello, Stan. I hope you don’t mind me turning up like this, but you did say—’
‘And I meant it,’ he replied. ‘You and the girls from Beach View are always welcome. Now, I think a cup of tea is called for – and one of Ethel’s famous rock buns.’ He led the way into the Nissen hut and set the tin kettle on the primus stove. ‘How are you settling in?’
‘Very well,’ she replied, and went on to tell him about her job, the lovely warm way everyone at Beach View had welcomed her, and her hopes for a new friendship with Shirley.
Stan raised an eyebrow. ‘Shirley’s in need of friends,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘The poor lass has a lot to contend with, but be careful, April, there are some in this town who are quick to condemn, and your friendship might lead to some unpleasantness.’
April felt a twinge of unease. ‘Because she’s not married?’
‘Aye,’ he said on a sigh. ‘It’s a sad situation all round.’
April’s discomfort increased, for his gentle warning was a clear message that although he felt sorry for Shirley, he didn’t actually approve of her.
Before she could probe further, he visibly brightened and changed the subject. ‘Peggy is a wonderful woman,’ he said, pouring the boiling water into the teapot and giving the tea leaves a vigorous stir. ‘You’ve fallen on your feet there. But how did you hear about Beach View?’
April thought quickly. ‘Someone recommended it to my mother,’ she said, sticking as closely to the truth as she could. ‘And yes, I know I’m very lucky.’
‘Let’s take our tea out to the platform and enjoy this sunshine,’ he said. ‘You grab the tin of buns, and I’ll bring the tray.’
She followed him out to the platform where they made themselves comfortable on the wooden bench which had once had a brass plaque announcing the name of the town screwed onto the back. The war meant that every signpost, noticeboard and plaque had to be taken down so any invading force wouldn’t be able to find their way, which also led to some confusion for innocent visitors to the town.
April decided to keep the conversation light and friendly, and not pursue the subject of Shirley. ‘Not long until your wedding,’ she said as they sipped their tea and enjoyed the bright afternoon sun. ‘I expect Ethel’s getting very excited.’
‘She’s in a terrible panic,’ he said with a soft chuckle. ‘She’s had a dress and jacket made by a friend and now she’s not sure she likes them – and then there’s a problem with what shoes to wear, and which hat and gloves, and should she carry a bouquet.’ He gave a contented sigh. ‘My Ethel would look good in a grain sack, but weddings have a strange effect on women, and it’s all fuss and to-do. I’m keeping well out of it.’
He didn’t look too hard done by, thought April in amusement. She bit into the delicious rock bun and savoured the crystallised sugar on the top and the juicy raisins inside.
‘I hope you’re coming to the wedding, April. We’ve asked everyone else at Beach View, and we’d hate the thought of leaving you out of things.’
‘That’s very kind, Stan, but please don’t feel you have to invite me. You don’t really know me, and it’s a very personal day for you and Ethel.’
‘I insist,’ he said, brushing crumbs from his straining waistcoat. ‘Neither of us has got much family to speak of, and we regard Peggy and everyone at Beach View as the closest thing.’ He sipped his tea and stared down the deserted railway lines. ‘I did send an invite to my sister, but
I haven’t heard back. I was rather hoping she might find the time to come and visit again as it’s such a special occasion.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ murmured April, embarrassed that neither she nor her mother had replied to his letter. ‘Did you two have a falling-out?’
‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘We just didn’t see eye to eye on something when she came down here after Barbara died, and we haven’t been in touch since.’
He reached for a second bun and munched it thoughtfully. ‘Mildred was always one for bearing grudges, and didn’t take kindly to my advice. She’s driven, you see, forever searching for something better, and I suspect she was frustrated that she didn’t always get it – especially after . . .’
He fell silent and April waited on tenterhooks while he finished eating the bun.
Stan swallowed the last morsel, his expression sad. ‘She had some sorrows and difficult decisions to make, but that was no excuse . . .’ He heaved a sigh and dredged up a smile. ‘You don’t want to hear all about things like that,’ he said. ‘Far too depressing on such a lovely day.’
April did want to hear about her mother’s sorrows and difficult decisions, and the reason behind her falling-out with Stan, but of course she couldn’t make Stan tell her – not until he knew she was Mildred’s daughter. She decided to change the subject as it seemed to be upsetting the old man. ‘Let’s talk about the wedding instead,’ she said. ‘Will you be having a reception?’
‘Oh, yes. We both agreed on that. You can’t have a wedding without a knees-up, and my Ethel loves a grand do. We’ll be having it at the Anchor – Rosie puts on a lovely spread, and she’ll get in extra beer and so on, so there’s no danger of anyone going thirsty.’
‘Rationing doesn’t help when it comes to such things, does it? I suppose you’ll have to have one of those cardboard cakes.’
‘Not on your life,’ he protested. ‘My Ethel’s got the cook up at the factory canteen to do her a proper one, with icing and fruit and even a bit of decoration. She’s managed to wangle coupons from everyone so she has enough flour and such, so it should be a real humdinger.’