by Ellie Dean
‘I have a perfect right to be here,’ April said evenly, ‘and I’ll leave when I’m good and ready.’
Ethel sneered. ‘You can drop that snooty act. I ain’t impressed. And you can shove yer charity right up yer arse, an’ all. I know what you’re really after.’
‘And what’s that, Ethel?’ she asked quietly.
‘This place. Suit you good and proper, wouldn’t it, to move in and take over?’
‘That’s not why I’m here at all. This is your home, yours and Stan’s, and I respect that and would never presume to have any call on it.’
‘Humph. All yer fancy talk don’t impress me. I ain’t soft like Stan, and if it were up to me I’d send you packing with a flea in yer ear.’
‘I feel sorry for you, Ethel,’ April said. ‘You’re so blinkered you can’t see that you’re destroying everything Stan holds dear.’
‘Oh, yeah? How’s that then?’
‘Family means everything to Stan, and he’s welcomed me despite my situation and the scandal it might cause. He wants a simple life – a life in which he can enjoy the company of the people he loves and who love him. But he can’t have that if you continue to be so spiteful.’
‘He could if you left us all in peace,’ Ethel retorted. Her eyes were suspiciously bright and her chin trembled as she looked at April defiantly. ‘We was doing all right before you come along. It was you what spoilt it.’
‘I’m truly sorry, Ethel,’ she murmured. ‘And if I could change things, then I would. But we both know that’s impossible.’ She took a step towards her and put out a hesitant hand that didn’t quite touch Ethel’s tightly folded arms. ‘Can’t we at least agree to be civil to one another for Stan’s sake?’
‘It’s what ’e wants,’ Ethel admitted grudgingly.
‘And so do I,’ said April softly.
She watched the inner battle that was clearly going on in Ethel’s heart and mind, noting the spark of tears in her eyes and the way she was holding back her emotions by keeping her back stiff and shoulders squared. ‘Oh, Ethel,’ she sighed as she put her arms around her. ‘Don’t try and carry this awful burden on your own.’
Ethel was rigid in her embrace, but April could feel the tremors running through her and the dampness of her tears on her blouse collar. ‘I know you’re frightened,’ she soothed, ‘and that it feels as if your world is crashing down around you. But Stan is strong. He’ll come through this.’
The trembling increased and the silent tears became great wails of anguish as Ethel fell against April and clung to her. ‘But he’s so ’elpless,’ she sobbed. ‘I see ’im lying there hardly moving and so pale, and there ain’t nothing I can do. I don’t want to lose ’im – I can’t lose ’im!’
April held her close as her own tears rolled down her face. She could almost feel Ethel’s pain and fear, and being well acquainted with such emotions, she understood what the other woman was going through. There were no words that could really soothe, just the warmth of a pair of arms and the comforting knowledge that she wasn’t alone in her grief.
They stood in the middle of the room welded together through their love for Stan, and when Ethel’s tears had ebbed and she eased from the embrace, she couldn’t quite look April in the eye. ‘I don’t know where that come from,’ she said, fumbling for a handkerchief.
‘From the heart,’ said April, mopping at her own tears. ‘And from fear and worry and a lack of sleep.’ She smiled at her. ‘Don’t be ashamed of those tears, Ethel. They’re not a sign of weakness, but of love.’
Ethel nodded and shot her a wary glance. ‘I been tough on you,’ she admitted, ‘and now I feel a bit ashamed ’cos of the way you’ve been so kind. I’m surprised you didn’t lump me one a long time ago.’
‘That’s not my way, Ethel.’
‘No, I can see it ain’t.’ She gave a hesitant, fleeting smile. ‘So where do we go from ’ere?’
‘We put our differences behind us because we both love Stan and want him to get better. It might be a bit awkward at first, but I’m sure we’ll find a way.’
Ethel lit a fag and slumped down into one of the fireside chairs. ‘I got you all wrong, didn’t I?’ she said on a sigh. ‘You’re like my Stan; loyal and kind and devoted to family – but I didn’t want to see that because I resented you. I was jealous,’ she admitted softly. ‘Jealous of all the attention Stan was paying you, and of the joy he felt at having found you.’
Her rueful smile was watery as she looked back at April. ‘Silly, weren’t I?’
April patted her shoulder. ‘You’re worn out with worry and lack of sleep,’ she said softly. ‘Why don’t you go up to bed? I’ll wake you when it’s visiting time again and, if you agree, we could go and see Stan together. That way he’ll stop worrying about us and can concentrate on getting well again.’
Ethel nodded. ‘That’s a good idea. But don’t you have trains to meet?’
‘Ron’s doing the evening ones.’
Ethel slowly climbed the narrow wooden stairs and April waited until she heard her footsteps overhead and then the creaking of the bedsprings. She turned away from the stairs and was startled to see Ron standing on the doorstep. ‘How long have you been there?’
‘Long enough,’ he said as he tramped into the room and gave her a hug. ‘Well done, April. I couldn’t have handled that better myself.’
April smiled as she hugged him back. Ethel had certainly not been as easy as putty to mould, but they’d reached an understanding which hopefully would blossom into friendship, and that was all that really mattered.
28
A month had passed since Stan’s heart attack, and Peggy was delighted that he seemed, at last, to be on the mend. The restrictions on the number of visitors had been lifted now he’d been transferred to Men’s Medical, so everyone at Beach View had managed to see for themselves how well he was doing.
Ethel was working part-time at the factory and helping Ruby keep the allotment in order when they weren’t sitting with Stan, while Ron and April had worked out a schedule to keep the trains running. Ron was rarely at home now, what with his trains, his Home Guard and fire-watch duties and the jobs Rosie needed doing at the Anchor, but Peggy was relieved that he was being kept fully occupied, for it meant there would be no more nonsense concerning Gloria Stevens.
As for April, she was blooming now that she and Ethel had reached an agreement to rub along together and make the best of things for Stan’s sake. The fresh air and sunshine, and the knowledge that she was doing her bit, had brought colour to her face and a sparkle to her eyes. Her pregnancy was now evident for all to see, but strangely enough there was very little condemnation of her situation by the local gossips, and Peggy put that down to her relationship with Stan and the willing way she’d mucked in during a crisis.
Peggy had written a long letter to Jim about all that had happened – though she hadn’t mentioned his father’s suspected dalliance with Gloria, and the fact that April’s baby would be brown, for what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt or worry him. Now she was waiting impatiently to hear back from him.
She continued packing the comfort boxes which were due to be sent out to the Allied troops in India, hoping that perhaps one that she’d packed might find its way to Jim. The odds were against that happening, but she packed each box with loving care just in case, and added a picture postcard of Cliffehaven wishing the recipient well.
Her thoughts turned to April again as one of the babies in the crèche began to wail. She’d gone with her to the adoption place yesterday to sign the second lot of papers, and although she’d put a brave face on things, Peggy knew she’d become attached to the little one growing inside her and would find it agonisingly hard to give it up. The girl was making a brave decision, but Peggy did agree that it was the right one. Miss Franklyn had managed to find a couple who were desperate for a baby, and as the prospective parents were of mixed race, the child would grow up with a clearer sense of its identity, and not be picked out as d
ifferent amid all the white faces.
Peggy finished taping the box and glanced up at the clock. Her three hours of volunteering were up and it was now time to collect Daisy from the crèche. She would pop into the uniform factory on her way home to make sure Shirley was coming to tea with her mother the following day, and have a quiet word with Alf about the possibility of a bit of extra beef suet to make the potato pastry tastier on the Woolton pie she planned to cook tonight. This was one of the more successful recipes dreamt up by the rationing people and involved cooking vegetables in a pastry case – but the potato pastry turned a nasty grey when cooked, and it would be lovely to have a bit of fat mixed in for a change.
Ron hurried along the hospital corridor keeping a wary eye out for Matron, who was inclined to appear unexpectedly and put the wind up him. She’d never quite forgiven him for discharging himself and leaving on the back of Rita’s motorbike after he’d been injured at the start of the war, and so he did his best to avoid her.
He eased through the door into the ward and grinned at the little nurse sitting behind her desk. ‘How’s the patient today?’
‘Getting restless,’ she replied with a wry smile.
‘Aye, I know the feeling.’ He tipped his cap to her and strolled down the ward to Stan’s bed. ‘I hear you’re causing trouble,’ he said cheerfully as he plumped down in the chair. ‘You want to watch it, Stan, or you’ll have Matron after you, and to be sure that’s no fun at all.’
Stan looked rather gloomy as he fidgeted in the bed. ‘I only asked if I could go to the lav on my own,’ he replied. ‘You’d have thought I wanted to climb onto the roof.’
‘Aye, well they take things seriously in here, and you’ve got to be patient.’ He chuckled. ‘Get it? As a patient you have to be patient.’
Stan rolled his eyes. ‘Very funny. But I’m bored, Ron, and all this lazing about isn’t doing me a bit of good. I should be back at the station, starting my new life with Ethel.’
‘There’s no need to worry about the station. April and me are keeping it running as sweet as a nut, and Ethel pops in to keep an eye on us when she can. She and Ruby are looking after your allotment and making a grand job of it, so they are. And you can be assured that both April and Ethel are getting on like a house on fire.’
This was a bit of an exaggeration, for though things were better between them, there was still an element of frostiness on Ethel’s part. He leaned back in the chair and began to fill his pipe. ‘I must say, Stan, it’s money for old rope working at that station. What on earth do you do to keep yourself busy?’
‘There’s plenty to keep me out of mischief, never you mind,’ Stan said solemnly. ‘And talking of mischief, are you going to tell me what you were up to with Gloria Stevens?’
‘Well now, Stan, I would – but I’d have to shoot you.’
Stan’s eyes widened and then his face creased into a broad smile. ‘You had me going there for a minute. A fling with Gloria is hardly a shooting offence – unless it’s Rosie holding the gun, of course.’
‘Aye, you could be right there, old pal. There’s nothing more fearsome than a woman scorned.’ Ron had spoken lightly in the hope that Stan would drop the subject, and he continued to fill his pipe.
‘So? Are you going to tell me? Or will I go to my grave never knowing?’
‘You’re not at death’s door, Stan, so don’t pull that one,’ Ron said mildly. ‘Curiosity killed the cat, remember?’
‘Ah, yes, but satisfaction brought it back. I really don’t understand why you’re so reluctant to talk about it, Ron. In your position I’d have been bursting to share my good fortune at having two women after my body.’
It was clear that Stanley wasn’t going to give up on this, so now Ron had to decide whether he should tell his pal the truth, or spin him a line. He stuck the pipe in his mouth and spent a few more moments getting a good draw on it while he thought things through. The idea of lying to Stan didn’t sit easily, but the truth was complicated and, once revealed, could have serious and far-reaching consequences.
‘The thing between me and Gloria wasn’t what you thought,’ he said finally.
‘So it’s over then?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’
Stan remained silent, his gaze steady on his friend’s face. ‘It either is or isn’t,’ he said flatly.
Ron puffed on his pipe and then examined the burnt tobacco in the bowl. He and Stan had signed the Official Secrets Act during the last shout, and because they’d shared some highly dangerous and top secret missions behind enemy lines which they’d kept to themselves ever since, he knew Stan could be trusted.
‘Remember those papers we signed back in 1916? The oath we took then still holds.’
Stan regarded him evenly, his expression solemn. ‘I know that.’ He leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper, ‘But what on earth has that to do with Gloria?’
‘Just promise to keep to that oath, Stan, or I’ll say nothing more.’
Stan frowned in puzzlement and then nodded. ‘I promise I won’t breathe a word.’
Ron gathered his thoughts and then rested his elbows on the bed so he could keep his voice below the general chatter on the ward. ‘I was contacted by someone in London a while ago. I can’t tell you who, but they were important enough for me to go to the barber’s and put on my best clothes for the meetings in Westminster.’
Stan’s eyes were wide with astonishment as Ron glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure no one else was listening before he continued. ‘The person I met asked me to keep tabs on a certain group who’d formed a private gentlemen’s club here in Cliffehaven and to keep special watch over their newest recruit.’
Stan was quick on the uptake. ‘Are we talking about Fifth Columnists?’ he muttered. At Ron’s nod he gasped. ‘What?’ he squeaked. ‘Here in Cliffehaven?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Ron hissed, ‘or I’ll tell you no more.’
Stan looked warily round the ward and edged closer to Ron. ‘But I don’t understand where Gloria fits into all this.’
‘The men met twice a week in the function room at the Crown – which is situated directly below Gloria’s bedroom. The floorboards are loose enough to coax apart and the plaster’s thin enough to overhear everything they said.’
‘But surely, if she knew what they were she’d have refused to have them there?’
Ron grinned. ‘It turns out there’s rather more to our Gloria than we ever suspected. You see, she’s been working for the government ever since the war began and is ideally placed to hear and see things that might threaten the nation’s security. When she was approached by the leader of the group – someone who would never normally have darkened her door – her suspicions were aroused and she listened in to their first meeting. She immediately reported what she’d heard to her local contact, and was told to encourage them to continue meeting there so they could be monitored.’
‘Well I never,’ Stan breathed. ‘Who would have thought it?’
‘Things became difficult for her when her son was killed and her daughter-in-law and grandchildren moved in, so I was asked to take over recording the meetings until the little family could be found other accommodation.’
‘But surely, if the government knows about these men, they’d be arrested and executed as Nazi spies?’
‘Ah, well that’s the clever part, see, Stan. Now they know who they are they can infiltrate the group, stay one step ahead, and supply them with misinformation.’ He chuckled. ‘The latest wheeze was for our mole to suggest they have a discreet club badge or tiepin to make their association look as valid as any other, and they fell for it hook, line and sinker – which means the police can easily identify them when it comes to their being arrested. Which they will be eventually.’
‘Blimey, Ron,’ breathed Stan. ‘And here’s me thinking you were dallying with Gloria.’
‘It was a good cover, wasn’t it?’ He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. ‘Gloria’
s quite a woman.’
‘But you didn’t . . .?’
Ron shook his head. ‘She was willing and I have to say I was tempted, but I love Rosie too much to cheat on her.’
Stan rested back against the pillows as he absorbed all that he’d learned. Then he leaned forward again. ‘Who are the men involved?
‘I can’t tell you,’ Ron said firmly.
‘What about the mole?’
‘I can’t tell you that either.’
‘And do the men still meet at Gloria’s?’
Ron could just imagine Stan letting his curiosity get the better of him to the point where he couldn’t resist visiting the Crown in an attempt to nose out who the Fifth Columnists were. ‘They now meet at a private house further along the coast,’ he said truthfully. ‘I think they realised their regular meetings at the Crown would be noticed if they went on for too long, so they found somewhere out of the way and far more discreet.’
‘But how did these men find each other in the first place? That sort of warped thinking is hardly something to brag about.’
Ron shrugged. ‘Through old school ties, clubs, bars, who knows. We’re all drawn to like-minded people, and it only takes a word or a gesture to squirrel them out.’
Stan flopped back against the pillows and gave a low whistle. ‘Well, Ron, you’ve certainly livened up my afternoon and given me something to think about. I shall be looking at every man differently now I know what’s going on in our quiet little town. And as for Gloria . . . My goodness, I never would have guessed.’
‘It’s a dangerous game, Stan,’ he said. ‘And the oath we took all those years ago is as binding now as it was then, because lives are at stake as well as the security of our country. You have to forget everything I told you and carry on as normal.’
‘You can count on me, Ron. But the man who’s infiltrated the group is taking a terrible risk. They’ll kill him if they discover what he’s up to.’
‘Aye, but it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.’ Ron put his cold pipe in his pocket as the bell went to announce the end of visiting time. ‘See you tomorrow, Stan.’