by Ellie Dean
‘Nah,’ Ivy agreed. She fiddled with her hair, thinking hard. ‘I might go over and see if Gloria ’as got any work going. Ruby said Rosie ’ad given ’er a few hours at the Anchor, so there won’t be nothing there.’ Her little face brightened. ‘Best to strike while the iron’s hot, eh?’ She pushed back from the table and reached for her coat.
‘It certainly is,’ said Peggy, taking a sleepy Daisy onto her lap for a cuddle. ‘Good luck, Ivy.’
Ivy slammed her way out, and Peggy relaxed back into the kitchen chair, little Daisy nestled sweetly against her breast. The changes at Beach View were already beginning, more swiftly than she’d expected, and once Fran and Robert had left, others would surely follow.
If Ivy couldn’t find work in Cliffehaven, then it was fairly certain that she and Andy would return to the East End of London where there was bound to be lots of work for them both. Danuta had already expressed a desire to return to Poland, and if things went the way Cissy wanted, her daughter could soon be sailing for America. Sarah would stay until the war in the Far East came to an end, and then join her mother and sister wherever the POWs were sent after their liberation.
And what of Rita? That she was in love with Peter was clear to everyone – but did she have the courage to follow her heart all the way to Australia, or would the ties of home be strengthened once her father returned from the battlefields of Europe? Peggy gave a deep sigh. She didn’t have all the answers but knew without a doubt that once she and Cordelia were left with Daisy, all those empty rooms would once again echo with the absence of those she loved.
Somerset
Anne left the bedroom door ajar so that motherly Auntie Vi could hear the girls should they wake. Avoiding the kitchen where Vi was in deep conversation with Bob and Claus, she went into the boot room, pulled on her wellingtons and coat, and let herself out of the side door. All was still in the gloaming of a night sky not yet fully dark. The cows were snuffling and shifting in their byre, the occasional bird called sleepily from the surrounding trees, and she could hear the soft hoot of one of the resident barn owls as it set off on silent wings for its night’s hunt.
Anne tied her headscarf under her chin and took a deep breath of the clean country air. She was forced to admit that Cissy’s barb about it being safe here had hit the mark – in fact, apart from one terrifying incident with a rogue German fighter plane, the war hadn’t touched them physically. Emotionally, of course, it was always there in the absence of her husband Martin, and the distance from home.
The conversation with her mother and the unpleasant row with Cissy had unsettled her all day, which was why she’d needed to get out of the house for a while to clear her head and try to think of the best way to make amends. She tramped across the freshly hosed cobbled yard and climbed the gate, then plodded across the field to the fence bounding the swiftly flowing river at the bottom. The sound of it was soothing as it rushed over its stony bed and raced towards the glimmering line of the sea on the horizon.
Leaning on the fence, Anne lit a cigarette and regarded the darkening vista of sprawling fields, drystone walls and lines of softly rounded hills. She’d come to love it here, for the sense of community was strong, and although they’d been strangers when they’d arrived in Barnham Green all those years ago, they’d been made welcome, and now felt very much at home.
Anne turned her back on the view and regarded Owlet Farm. The comfortable, rambling farmhouse was solidly built of the local stone, and was set on a low hill overlooking hundreds of acres of grazing and arable land. The milking sheds and dairy stood a short distance away across a cobbled courtyard, the byres in large barns behind that. The dairy herd had increased over the years, as had the amount of land put to crops.
There were three small cottages nestled beside the main house. One of them housed a couple of old farmhands who were living out their days by tending their much prized vegetable garden and offering advice on how things had been done in their day when there were only horses to help with the heavy work. The second was inhabited by the last remaining German prisoner of war, and the third was where Sally Hicks had set up home with her little boy Harry, and her younger brother Ernie who was now twelve and growing like a weed.
Anne noticed a faint light glimmering behind the thin cotton curtains. Sally had been Peggy’s first evacuee, who’d arrived in Cliffehaven from the slums of London with six-year-old Ernie who’d had infantile polio and wore a specially made boot and calliper on his leg. At sixteen, Sally had taken on the role of mother as their own had been so neglectful, and through Peggy’s warmth and encouragement, had blossomed in Cliffehaven. She’d started her own home dress-making business and ended up marrying the fire chief, John Hicks, with whom she’d had little Harry.
By that time, Anne was married to Wing Commander Martin Black with baby Rose Margaret already proving to be a handful, and the war was in full terrifying swing. It had been Sally’s father – Harold Turner – who’d solved the problem of where they should all go when the school had been bombed and it was clearly too dangerous to stay in Cliffehaven with young children, and he’d arranged for them to live here with his older sister, Violet.
Childless and widowed, Violet had opened her arms, her heart and home to them for the duration, and they’d grown to love and admire her for her patience and wisdom, and the enormous warmth she showed them all. She’d more than fulfilled the role of mother and grandmother, and as time had gone on, Ernie had filled out and grown into a mischievous, healthy boy who no longer had to wear a calliper.
Anne gave a deep sigh and mashed the cigarette out beneath her boot. Her brother Bob would never feel at home anywhere but here now, so at least Violet wouldn’t be left entirely alone. But the thought of leaving her – and this place – was something that Anne couldn’t yet come to terms with.
‘It’s going to be ’ard to leave, ain’t it?’ said Sally, approaching out of the gloom and making Anne jump.
‘Where did you come from?’ Anne gasped.
Sally brushed some grass from her trousers. ‘I was sitting under that tree, but you was clearly deep in thought so I didn’t like to disturb you. Sorry if I startled you.’
They turned back to the fence and leaned against it, staring into the darkness as the moon slowly drifted through the tops of the trees and began to gild the rushing water beyond them. ‘I was thinking how much I’m going to miss this place, and how lonely Vi will be once we’ve all gone,’ said Anne.
‘Yeah, it won’t be easy for her. She loves them kids as if they was her own. I wrote to John about it, and he suggested she could come and live with us, but when I talked it over with her, she didn’t seem that keen.’ Sally pushed back the hair from her face and giggled. ‘It’s probably ’cos we’re so noisy, and to be fair, it would be a real squash in our little place.’
‘Vi was born on this farm and has spent her entire life here,’ said Anne. ‘Moving away from everyone and everything she knows so late in life would be a terrible wrench, and I doubt she’d settle.’
‘Yeah, you’re probably right,’ said Sally on a sigh. ‘But I’m ready to go ’ome to John at the end of the school term. We’ve been apart for too long, and he ’ardly knows our Harry.’ She glanced across at Anne. ‘I know you’re planning on staying ’ere for a bit after Martin comes back, but you must miss yer mum.’
Anne wondered if Sally had overheard any of this morning’s conversation and was angling for more information. ‘Of course I do,’ she replied carefully. ‘And in a way I feel disloyal to her for worrying about leaving Vi behind. But it’s Martin who’s my first priority, and it’s my duty to see that he’s fully recovered before we go back to Cliffehaven.’
‘There was a bit of a to-do when he came last time,’ said Sally, glancing towards the end cottage lights. ‘Is it really wise to bring him here with Claus still living on the farm?’
‘It wasn’t Claus he had the issue with,’ said Anne. ‘It was Max, remember? And as he and Hans are gone, I can’
t see there should be any problem.’
‘I suppose you’ll just have to wait and see,’ said Sally on a deep sigh. ‘Gawd knows what Martin’s been through at that camp. He might hate all Germans now – and I can’t say I’d blame ’im.’ She took a breath. ‘Still, it’s going to be strange to be with John after all this time – strange but lovely,’ she added with a soft smile. ‘I can’t wait to be back with him again in our own little home.’
Anne had sharp memories of the dreadful row she and Martin had had when he’d come to the farm unexpectedly on leave to find her and the children playing innocently with the German POWs, and how things had only been resolved between them on the last day. And thank God they had, she thought, for within weeks he’d been shot down and captured, and she hadn’t seen him since.
‘We’ll both just have to adapt to being wives again,’ she murmured, ‘and let them take the lead. It’ll be hard for all of us to get used to being a couple again.’
Sally shivered and drew up her coat collar. ‘I’m going in for some cocoa – do you want some?’
‘No thanks, Sal. I’ll stay here and have a last cigarette.’
Sally placed her hand on Anne’s arm, her expression serious. ‘Don’t leave it too long before you phone Peggy and make things up with her,’ she advised softly before walking away.
Anne stood by the fence and watched her go, the blush of shame heating her face as the cold wind flapped her headscarf. She should have given more thought to how her mother would take the news, and Cissy’s sharp reminder, that as a mother herself she should have known how hard it would be to be denied her family at the very last minute, had brought that home. Her sister was right in so many ways – although she’d never admit it to her face.
She lit a cigarette and turned her back once more on the farm, staring out at the moonlit panorama as she thought about her relationship with her younger sister. Anne had always been the practical one who’d done well at school and training college to achieve her ambition of being a teacher. She’d lived her life carefully, abided by the rules, always very aware of how people might regard her.
Cissy, in contrast, had always been the little girl who loved dancing and dressing up, and couldn’t care a fig about homework. She knew how to get round Dad’s finger, flirted outrageously with every boy she came across once she’d passed puberty, and didn’t take anything seriously except her dreams of dancing in Hollywood.
‘Chalk and cheese,’ muttered Anne. ‘Rather like the war we experienced.’
She shivered, not with the cold, but with the horror of those images Cissy had conjured up of her experiences. Her little sister had witnessed things no young girl should see, and in those few angry words, she’d revealed what Anne suspected was a mere snapshot of what she’d been through. It was no wonder she’d been so angry when Anne had accused her of being a good-time girl and neglecting their mother.
Anne crushed out the half-smoked cigarette and headed back to the farmhouse, determined to put things right even though she couldn’t work miracles and return home immediately. But she could ring her mother to apologise, and admit that she’d gone about things in completely the wrong way.
6
Cliffehaven
Peggy had felt so much better after Anne had telephoned back on that Thursday evening that she’d managed to get a decent night’s sleep and was consequently brighter throughout Friday. The fact that nothing had really changed and Anne and the others wouldn’t be coming home yet was still a bitter disappointment, but that was just something she had to live with.
As suspected, the number of no-shows and resignations at the factory had increased, so she and Madge had sent on the wages owed with a slip informing each person their job was no longer available. This in turn cut down the long list of those waiting to have their old jobs back, and now that work had started in earnest again, Solly was in a much better mood. He’d even begun talking about taking on one of the empty units up on the factory estate to expand the business into maternity and baby-wear, for with the servicemen coming home there was bound to be a baby boom in nine months’ time.
This had made Peggy smile. Solly always had an eye for a future enterprise, and this one seemed very promising. It would also mean taking on more staff, which would ease the long waiting list considerably. However, these things took time, and Peggy suspected the new factory wouldn’t be up and running until summer.
Fran and Robert had gone to work on the Friday, stayed out very late to say goodbye to all their colleagues and friends, and then spent most of this Saturday morning packing their belongings and restoring order to their room. They kept a suitcase each for their journey to Ireland, but the rest of their things – most of which were wedding presents and clothes – were to be sent by rail to Robert’s mother where they would be kept in storage until needed. A friend from the Fort had lent Robert his car so he could cart it all up to the station, but as they had to return it by five this evening, it was all a bit of a rush.
Peggy watched and listened to all the bustle whilst she and Ivy prepared the vegetables for the special roast dinner they would have this evening. Little Fran had become such an intrinsic part of the Beach View family that it would feel like losing a precious daughter, and it was hard to imagine the house without her.
Peggy knew she should be glad for the girl who had such a bright future awaiting her in London, but couldn’t help feeling sad at her leaving. Fran’s bright smile and joyous delight in playing Doris’s violin so beautifully had been the tonic they’d all needed during the dark days, and was the thread that laced together memories of parties at the Anchor, local concerts, and of course family weddings and celebrations.
‘I reckon Rita’s up to something,’ said Ivy, breaking into Peggy’s sad thoughts.
‘Why do you say that, Ivy?’
‘She’s quieter than usual and keeps going off into a daydream,’ Ivy replied.
‘It’s probably something to do with young Peter,’ Peggy murmured. ‘There’s definitely been a glow about her recently.’ She regarded Ivy fondly. ‘I’m surprised you haven’t asked her what’s going on.’
‘I did, and she just said she was happy the war’s over, that Peter seems to be recovering, and her dad will soon be home. It was a bit hurtful really, ’cos we’re best friends, and I tell ’er everything.’
‘Well, she’s due back any minute after seeing Peter at the Memorial, so you may be able to satisfy your curiosity then. But don’t push it, Ivy,’ Peggy warned gently. ‘If there’s more to tell, she’ll do so when she’s ready.’
Ivy nodded, but Peggy suspected that the girl’s insatiable nosiness would not be curbed by any warning from her, and she wouldn’t be satisfied until she knew what was going on with Rita. But there was enough happening today without adding to the emotional stress and she could only hope Ivy and Rita wouldn’t fall out.
She returned to peeling the vegetables, the sound of laughter coming from across the hall where Sarah, Danuta and Cissy were being more hampered than helped by Daisy and Cordelia as they decorated the dining room for this very special occasion. It was fortunate that the joint of beef Robert had bought was enormous, for there would be twenty of them around the table to ensure that Fran and he would have a really splendid send-off.
Peggy didn’t want to dwell on the thought that this would be Fran’s last night under her roof, so she turned her attention back to Ivy. ‘I’m so glad Gloria could give you a few hours.’
‘I were lucky,’ Ivy said, ‘’cos she’d decided just that day to open the upstairs rooms to guests again and needed a chambermaid, and a waitress for breakfast. She reckons the holiday season will soon get going, so she’s roped poor Andy into painting all the rooms and putting down fresh lino in his off-duty time. He offered to do it for free ’cos she’s been so good to him, but she wouldn’t hear of it, and is paying him really well for his efforts.’
‘Well, I’m delighted for you,’ said Peggy warmly. ‘But being a chambermaid i
s hard work, Ivy. Guests can get very fussy over the slightest speck of dust, even if their own homes don’t come up to the mark, as I know from the experience of running this place.’
Ivy shrugged. ‘I’m used to ’ard work, Auntie Peg, and with Gloria’s money, the tips and the bonus I got from the factory, me and Andy will have a deposit on a place in no time.’
Peggy carried on dealing with the vegetables, trying not to think about the house slowly emptying, and was saved by the sound of the late afternoon post clattering through the letter box.
‘Go and get that, dear, would you? My hands are wet.’
Ivy plonked the saucepan of spring greens on the hob, ran into the hall and came back with a goodly number of letters and cards. Sifting through them, she squeaked in delight. ‘I got a letter from Mum at last, and a card each from me brothers saying they’ll be back on shore leave by the end of the month, and there’s even a postcard from the young ’uns down near Salisbury.’
She placed them in a pile on the table and shuffled through the rest. ‘There’s one for you from Jim, two for Sarah, one for Grandma Cordy, and a card for Rita from her dad.’ She turned it over and shamelessly read it. ‘He says he’ll be home in about two weeks.’ Sitting at the table, she ripped open her mother’s letter.
Peggy raised an eyebrow at her cheek and then quickly dried her hands so she could open Jim’s airmail. It wasn’t very long, and Jim explained that there really wasn’t very much to report. They were stuck in a jungle respite camp in the middle of the monsoon with very little to do until they were sent back into the fighting again. But the news that the war was finally over in Europe had definitely been something to celebrate. His mate Jumbo had played the bagpipes until he’d run out of puff and they’d drunk the place dry of beer, which had incurred massive hangovers the following morning.
He continued on to say that he was extremely relieved to know that she and the rest of the family were safe now, and hoped that she’d soon be surrounded by their children and grandchildren. He longed to see all of them again, and to get to know little Daisy and his two granddaughters, and hoped he’d be home by Christmas. With the war over in Europe he truly believed it wouldn’t be long before the Japanese were forced to surrender. He’d signed it as usual with a loving kiss, and the hope they’d soon all be together again.