With Hope and Love

by Ellie Dean

  Peggy folded the letter and gave a soft sigh. Let him imagine that all was well here and that their children were on their way home, for if it helped him get through their separation, then so much to the good.

  ‘They’re all right, Auntie Peg,’ breathed Ivy, folding the single page back into its envelope.

  ‘Oh, Ivy, I’m so glad for you.’

  ‘The letter must have got lost in the post or something, ’cos Mum wrote this back at the very end of March.’ Her face was alight with happiness and relief. ‘They was planning to stay with some friends for a couple of nights in Stepney before moving into their new place, which is just down the road by the look of the address she give me. It seems this Hughes Mansions is ever so smart, and she’d’ve liked to stay there permanent like, but it’s crammed with refugees from Europe and people like Mum and Dad who ain’t got nowhere else to go.’

  Peggy thought it rather strange that there hadn’t been a second letter after all this time, but the post was erratic, and it would probably turn up tomorrow now the Post Office had caught up on things.

  Ivy seemed to be following the same train of thought. ‘I suppose they’ve been busy moving in and such-like,’ she murmured. ‘But it’s odd she ain’t written again.’

  ‘Why don’t you write to the new address your mother gave you, and ask her to make a reverse charge call? I expect she’s been busy settling in at the new place, and if it’s a long journey to work and so on, she might not have had time to write, and doesn’t realise how worried you’ve been.’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll do that,’ Ivy said brightly. ‘Is it all right if I leave the spuds to you, Auntie Peggy? Only I don’t want to miss the last post.’

  Peggy waved her off and returned to the sink, deep in thought as she finished peeling and chopping the potatoes. There was, of course, one other explanation as to why Ivy’s mum hadn’t written, but that was almost too dreadful to think about – and surely the authorities would have informed Ivy if anything had happened to her family?

  She decided she was making a mountain out of a molehill and imagining all sorts because she was in that sort of blue mood. No doubt Ivy’s letter would bring about a rapid response, and the mystery would soon be solved.

  Peggy finished peeling the potatoes and put them on to parboil, then dried her hands and went into the dining room to see how the others were getting on. Balloons and bunting had been strung across the ceiling, tinsel decorated the beautifully laid table, and a large hand-painted poster edged with more tinsel wished the couple well in their new lives in London. ‘My goodness,’ she breathed, ‘you have been busy.’

  ‘It isn’t too much, is it?’ asked Sarah with a frown.

  ‘Not at all. It’s lovely and earns you all a nice cup of tea to wash away the dust.’

  Ivy thudded down the stairs and slammed the back door behind her on the way to the post box at the end of the street, and Peggy silently prayed that everything would turn out all right, and she’d just been over-imagining things.

  Fran had been quite overwhelmed by the love, thoughtfulness and hard work everyone had put in to make her last night at Beach View so special. She would miss all of them dreadfully – especially Ron and Peggy, who’d been such stalwart, caring supporters during the eight years she’d been living here. Consequently, she’d had to battle her tears as people began to drift home, and she’d had to say her last goodbyes.

  As Colonel White went to fetch Doris’s coat, Fran handed her the precious violin. ‘Thank you for lending me this,’ she said. ‘I’ve made sure it’s tuned and given it new strings and a good polish.’

  ‘Bless you, dear,’ said Doris, whose eyes were suspiciously bright. ‘It was a pleasure to hear you playing it so beautifully.’ She handed it back to Fran. ‘Please keep it, and when you next play it, think of us and the happy times we’ve had.’

  ‘But it’s a very valuable instrument,’ Fran protested. ‘I can’t possibly accept it.’

  ‘Take it with my blessing, dear. I know of no one else who deserves it more, and it would be a crime to lock it away and never hear it again.’ Doris firmly pushed the violin into Fran’s arms. ‘Just promise me you’ll come back and play it for us one day.’ She slipped on the coat the Colonel was holding out for her, then softly patted Fran’s cheek. ‘God speed, Fran.’

  Fran laid the violin carefully on the table before flinging her arms around Doris. ‘Thank you, thank you,’ she managed through her tears. ‘I will treasure it always.’

  Doris eventually drew from the embrace and turned swiftly away before her emotions got the better of her.

  Fran tearfully watched her bustle away. She could hardly equate this soft-hearted Doris with the ghastly, bossy one who’d made everyone’s lives such a misery when she’d moved into Beach View and virtually taken over. It was amazing what love could do, she thought, and silently wished Doris and the Colonel all the luck in the world.

  ‘’Tis a fine thing to see that woman softened up,’ rumbled Ron with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘To be sure we have a lot to thank the Colonel for.’ He rose from his chair and held out his arms. ‘Come, wee girl, and give me a hug. I know how hard this leaving must be for you – to be sure it’s hard for me too.’

  Fran went willingly into his arms, glad of their strength and the solidity of his broad chest. She didn’t have to pretend with Ron, for he knew all her secrets and had been a stalwart father figure from the moment she’d arrived at Beach View all those years before, offering encouragement, love and guidance – and providing numerous moments of great hilarity. ‘I’m going to miss you so much,’ she said gruffly.

  ‘And I shall miss you, acushla,’ he murmured into her hair. ‘But you’ll always be in my heart, for you have been a daughter – a much loved daughter – and I’m so very proud of you and all you’ve achieved.’ He kissed her cheek, and still holding her hands, gave her the Irish blessing they both knew so well, and which brought tears to them both.

  ‘May the road rise up to meet you. May the wind always be at your back. May the sun shine warm upon your face; the rains fall soft upon your fields and, until we meet again, may God hold you in the palm of His hand.’

  ‘Oh, Ron, I do so love you,’ Fran sobbed.

  ‘There, there, wee girl,’ he replied, softly kissing her brow. ‘Walk into the future with hope, and the assurance that if you ever need me, I’ll be here.’ He abruptly released her hands, clicked his fingers at Harvey and Monty who were sprawled in front of the fire, and put his arm around Rosie. ‘’Tis time for this old man to be abed. Sleep well, acushla, and dream happy dreams.’

  Fran watched him leave the house, the dogs trailing after him, and knew how lucky they’d all been when it seemed they might have lost Ron through that accident. But he’d overcome his injuries with a strength of purpose and determination. He was a special man, and she would always think of him as a father.

  Curled against Robert’s warm back later that night, Fran was soothed by his steady breathing, but couldn’t fall asleep. The memories of all the years she’d been living here came in swift succession, making her restless. Without wanting to disturb Robert, she carefully eased out of the bed, pulled on her dressing gown and tiptoed down the stairs. The house was silent but for the familiar creaks and groans of old timbers as she went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

  ‘I wondered if you’d come,’ murmured Peggy, rising from the fireside chair to pour out a cup of tea. ‘I couldn’t sleep either, and thought tea might help.’

  Fran hugged her, realising that Peggy’s company was what she’d really been searching for. ‘Having you to talk to like old times is more soothing than tea,’ she replied. ‘It feels as if we haven’t done this in ages,’ she added, settling into the other chair. ‘It’s lovely to have you to myself for a wee while.’

  ‘It has been rather hectic lately, and I’m glad we have this chance to say a proper goodbye.’ Peggy grasped her hand. ‘Do you remember how we sat up half the night when you and Robert got
engaged? And the times we spent gossiping into the wee hours about that hateful matron who treated poor Danuta so badly?’

  Fran smiled through her tears and nodded. ‘And do you remember the night Ron and Frank came home three sheets to the wind after Brendon’s send-off? And the time we hid in here when Doris was being such a pain?’

  Their reminiscences continued until the clock struck two and reminded them they had an early start. Feeling more at peace and prepared for the emotional day ahead, they hugged and kissed and went to their beds knowing they’d never forget a moment of that quiet and loving exchange and would hold tonight in their hearts like a precious gift.

  Now it was Sunday morning and although the church bells were ringing to usher in a bright new sunny day, it felt to Fran as if a shadow had passed over the skies and settled into her heart. She was dreading the moment when she and Robert had to leave Beach View for the last time. But the ticking clock on the mantel seemed to hasten the moment of their departure and it felt as if only moments had passed since waking when it was time to don hats and coats and collect their suitcases from the hall.

  Robert understood how difficult it was for her to say goodbye, and stood at her side as she hugged the other girls and Cordelia, and then drew Peggy into a loving embrace. ‘Please don’t come with us to the station,’ she begged. ‘To be sure I couldn’t bear it. But this isn’t goodbye, Auntie Peg, I promise. I will come back when I can, and I’ll write as soon as we get to London to let you know how we are and how things went in Ireland.’

  Peggy held her close. ‘I’ll always be here for you, Fran. Never forget that.’ She drew back from the embrace and lovingly tucked a stray lock of Fran’s autumnal hair behind her ear. ‘Take care, darling girl,’ she managed. ‘And don’t be sad. You and Robert have a wonderful future ahead of you, and whatever happens in Ireland, know you’re very much loved.’

  Peggy embraced Robert. ‘Take care of our girl, won’t you?’ she whispered.

  ‘Of course I will,’ he replied, kissing her cheek before reaching for Fran’s hand to give it an encouraging squeeze. ‘Come on, darling,’ he murmured. ‘Or we’ll miss the train.’

  Fran’s heart was heavy as she took charge of the violin case and he picked up their cases. They stepped out of the front door for the last time, and she turned back just before the end of the cul-de-sac, saw them all standing on the doorstep, and realised that no matter what happened in Ireland, this was her true family, and always would be. She slipped her hand through the crook of Robert’s arm and gave him a brave, watery smile.

  ‘You’ll always have me beside you, Fran,’ he murmured against her cheek. ‘So hold on tight, and let’s begin our adventure with no regrets.’

  Fran’s heart melted with love as she gazed up at him. And when they reached the corner, she didn’t look back, but into the bright promise of the new lives they were embarking upon together.

  7

  Germany

  The forced march from Stalag IV at Gross Tychow had covered between fifteen and twenty miles a day, with much zig-zagging to escape the encroaching Red Army from the east, and had lasted eighty-six days, according to the notches Freddy Pargeter had made on a length of tree branch he’d cut on the first night.

  The treatment they’d received from their guards had been brutal, with some prisoners being bayoneted, kicked or hit if they didn’t keep up. And should a man drop to the ground and not manage to get back on his feet, he was shot.

  Freddy Pargeter and Randolph Stevens had stuck together throughout the torturous death march, sharing blankets and their greatcoats, helping each other to wade through the deep snow, tending their wounds, and then huddling close throughout the bitter nights when the only shelter had been a tumbledown barn, or a stand of trees.

  They’d drunk contaminated water from roadside ditches, eaten snow, grass and even rats to stay alive, and when the opportunity had arisen, they’d risked their own and the farmers’ lives by trading their watches, rings and cigarettes – and anything else they possessed – for something to eat. They were infested with lice, suffering from dysentery, frostbite and trench foot, but they knew that if they gave in to the deathly weariness of their aching, half-starved and diseased bodies, they would never see home again.

  They’d arrived at another Stalag two months later to find there was no food, shelter or bedding, and after a week, they’d been sent on another march east. But the weather was now more clement and liberation was finally at hand, for the POWs and their captors could hear the growing thunder of the approaching Allied artillery, and although this imbued some spirit into the survivors, they simply didn’t have the energy to celebrate. Freddy could barely put one foot in front of the other, and although Randolph held him up and forced him onwards, he knew he too was suffering, and if they should stumble, they’d never get up.

  Three weeks later they were sprawled in a ditch next to what they’d been told was the River Elbe near Lauenburg. Of the eight thousand that had set out, almost a quarter had perished. Now sick and starving, it was doubtful the survivors could walk any further, and they would die where they lay. The German guards were in no better state, and although many of them had just abandoned their duties, some of them were as weak as their prisoners and remained with them. Rumours of the war’s end were rife, but for all of them, the focus was on just staying alive.

  Freddy was slipping in and out of consciousness, and Randolph was delirious from fever when there was the sound of heavy gunfire very close by. Freddy blearily forced his eyes open and could hardly believe it when he saw the few German guards being rounded up by a large contingent of British troops.

  ‘Randy. Randy, wake up,’ he urged, nudging him. ‘Look, look. It really is over. We’re going home.’

  Randy mumbled something incoherent as he was overtaken by a fit of terrible shivering, and Freddy slipped back into oblivion.

  Lubeck, Germany

  Air Commodore Martin Black had never felt so weak and useless, despite the reviving hot tea and thick bully beef sandwich he’d just consumed, and the wonderful news that the war was over, and they were all going home. Determined to help his even weaker wingman, Roger Makepeace, who was suffering from trench foot and diphtheria, he gently hauled him to his feet, shocked at how light he seemed to be.

  They’d been together since the start of the war, and would remain together now it was over. Waving away the offer of help from one of their American liberators, he put his arm around Roger’s waist and steadied him. ‘Come on, old chap,’ he muttered. ‘Mustn’t give in now. We’re on our way home to Cliffehaven.’

  ‘Jolly good,’ mumbled Roger, slumping against him as he tried to walk on his rotting feet, and breathe through the thick phlegm that was filling his lungs.

  The Douglas C-47’s engine rumbled on in its comfortingly familiar way as it waited on the landing strip. The long line of ex-prisoners of war weaved and hobbled towards it, their rising spirits giving them the energy they needed to forget about how ill and starving they were, for the troop carrier brought the promise of home and loved ones – of freedom, and the end of their ordeal.

  There were six crew including the pilot, and the medical orderlies amongst them moved from man to man to assess their injuries and state of health in general before writing down notes, and nodding cheerfully. Martin and Roger slept for most of the journey, waking only when the C-47 landed with a soft bump and the engines screamed as the brakes were applied.

  ‘Welcome home, guys,’ yelled the Captain. ‘The weather’s a bit disappointing, but I guess, as Englishmen, you’re all used to rain.’

  The long hours of sitting had stiffened Martin’s legs and it was a moment before he could ease the muscles enough to walk towards the open door. As he peered through the misty drizzle, his heart leapt with joy, for these were the green fields and familiar trees of home.

  There was a host of American GIs to greet them and help them down the short ladder to the tarmac, where they were sprayed thoroughly
with some sort of disinfectant to counteract the vermin they carried in their clothes and hair. Patriotic music was playing over a tannoy and they were told there was food and drink aplenty waiting for them in the reception hut.

  Martin and Roger stood arm in arm, weaving slightly as they lifted their faces to the soft rain, breathing in the smell of aviation fuel and England as they held on to one another for balance, and gazed at the scenery they’d thought they’d never see again. Then, as one, they got painfully down on their knees and pressed their faces into the wet grass by the side of the runway, giving thanks for their return when so many of their comrades had not made it through.

  ‘Actually, old chap,’ muttered Roger a moment later, ‘I don’t think I can get up again.’

  ‘Neither can I,’ chuckled Martin.

  They both collapsed into a heap, tears of laughter mingling with the rain as the Americans looked at them askance and scratched their heads at this strange Limey behaviour – which only made them laugh even harder.

  8

  Despite Ivy’s persistent probing and barely disguised curiosity, Rita had kept Peter’s proposal secret and only worn his ring when she’d gone to visit him. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed by the grandness of it, but she knew it would elicit too many questions which she was not yet ready to answer. At first she’d worn it on a chain around her neck but then, terrified of losing or damaging it as she went about her work at the fire station, she’d hidden it away in a matchbox amongst the paraphernalia she kept in the bottom drawer of her bedside chest.