With Hope and Love

by Ellie Dean

  Peggy just smiled and offered her a second cup of tea.

  Doris checked her watch and then stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I’m meeting John and Michael at the Officers’ Club for lunch, so I won’t, thank you.’ She gathered up her handbag and gloves. ‘Please keep me posted on Ivy, and if there’s anything I can do, then don’t hesitate to ask.’

  They embraced and Peggy went with her to the front door to see her off. She smiled as Doris waved and disappeared around the corner, for her sister still refused to use the back way like everyone else. It seemed some old habits died hard, but then that was Doris.

  Ron was full of the joys of spring as he parked Rosie’s car outside the Anchor and leapt out to fetch the cases from the boot. Their honeymoon had been a great success, and being away from Cliffehaven had rejuvenated them both, making them realise how narrow their lives had become, and vowing to take more time off to see other places. They’d walked the long promenade, eaten fish and chips out of newspaper, poked about in the numerous antique shops in the Lanes, and danced every night in the hotel’s grand ballroom, so Ron’s back was complaining a bit, but being with Rosie was worth it.

  He carried the cases up the stairs and dumped them in the sitting room before hurrying back down to check on his ferrets as Rosie headed for the kitchen to make a welcome cup of tea – it had been a long drive from Brighton, and all the tearooms they’d passed had been closed.

  Having discovered that his ferrets were in fine fettle, he returned to the sitting room and shed his jacket. He picked up the bankbook Brenda had left on the dresser alongside a sheaf of notes which told him there had been no trouble in the pub, Monty had behaved himself, Bert had been in each day to see to the ferrets, and Ruby had proved to be a godsend behind the bar as Flo had done a moonlight and no one knew where she’d gone.

  Rosie came in with the tea tray and looked over his shoulder at the neatly written bank deposits with a chuckle. ‘Brenda and Ruby seem to have managed very well without us. Perhaps we should go away more often now we have two such reliable caretakers.’

  Ron had picked up the next sheet of notepaper and was deeply immersed in what Peggy had written. When he came to the end, he silently handed it to Rosie, and then reached for the second note Peggy had left, only yesterday according to the date on the top. The bitter sadness struck him hard and he sank into the nearby armchair trying to absorb how much things had changed since they’d been away.

  Rosie finished reading the note, perched on the arm of the chair, and put her hand softly on the back of his neck. ‘I can’t believe Freddy’s gone,’ she said tremulously. ‘Poor Charlotte must be going through absolute hell. How on earth will she cope with two babies all on her own?’

  ‘She’ll have Kitty to help, but I suspect she’s just as devastated,’ Ron replied. ‘You know how much she adored her brother. But at least it seems that Roger and Martin have made it through – and that’s something to be grateful for.’ He glanced down at Peggy’s more recent note still clutched in his hand. ‘There’s more bad news, I’m afraid, darling. It concerns young Ivy.’

  Rosie listened as he told her what had happened and then took a trembling breath. ‘We’ve only been away for a week, and yet so many young lives have been changed forever in that short time that it’s impossible to take it all in.’

  She slid off the arm of the chair and nestled into his lap. ‘Oh, Ron, she breathed. ‘Just as we thought the war was over and things could only get better, something like this happens, and we’re made to realise that it will leave a lasting legacy for so many.’

  Ron cradled her in his arms and kissed her forehead. ‘Aye, sweet girl, and my Jim’s still out in Burma fighting his war against the Japs. I can only pray that he comes home in one piece.’

  He held her for a while longer and then stood to place her gently on her feet. ‘Pour the tea, darling, then I must fetch Monty from Brenda’s and go to Beach View. Peggy will be deeply affected by all this, and I want to make sure she’s all right before I take both dogs for a good long run. I doubt Brenda and Cissy managed to go far, and the animals will need to get rid of all that pent-up energy.’

  Rosie poured the tea, and handed him the cup and saucer. ‘Peggy said nothing about Cissy’s American chap in her notes. I do hope there’s better news on that front.’

  Ron doubted there was, for Peggy would have mentioned it. He took a slurp of tea and then concentrated on lighting his pipe. He’d had enough bad news for one day; whatever was going on with Cissy’s American could be put off for a while. ‘Will you be all right on your own this lunchtime, Rosie?’

  ‘Brenda’s due in, so we’ll manage.’ She shot him a wan smile. ‘Go and see Peggy, give her my love and tell her I’ll pop in later. She’ll want to hear about our trip to Brighton, and it might help to cheer her up a bit.’

  Ron raised a bushy and rather wayward eyebrow. ‘Mind what you tell her, wee girl. It was our honeymoon, remember – and some things are private.’

  Rosie giggled and blew him a kiss. ‘How could I forget? And wonderful it was too. Let’s do it again as soon as we can arrange it.’

  Ron felt a twinge in his back as he reached across to squeeze her fingers, and rather hoped she wouldn’t plan another romantic break for at least a month, as he needed to get over this one first.

  14

  Jack followed Rita on the Norton, his heart in his mouth as she’d roared away on the Australian’s Royal Enfield, taking the bends much too fast as they wound their way up the hill towards the Cliffe Estate. He was suffering a bit from a hangover, and not at all sure how to handle this meeting with Peter Ryan, but the clean, cold air seemed to be clearing his head, and he decided he’d play it by ear and give the man a chance. After all, Rita loved him, and as long as that feeling was reciprocated, he couldn’t really find an objection to them marrying. But he’d make damned sure the man was worthy of her.

  As they reached a long straight stretch Rita disappeared in a burst of speed, and Jack opened up the throttle to try and catch up with her, appreciating how well the Norton was running. Rita clearly knew what she was doing when it came to mechanics, but did she know enough about men? And was she mature enough to see beyond a handsome face and winning ways to make such life-changing decisions? He’d soon find out, he thought grimly as he reached the stone pillars marking the entrance to the house and gardens.

  Rita brought the Enfield to a skidding halt which sent gravel flying to pepper a couple of men in white coats who were standing on the steps of the imposing entrance. They glared at her, and Rita waved an apology. She cut the engine and took off her helmet, laughing as Jack approached more sedately and parked the Norton beside her.

  ‘Was I going too fast for you, Dad?’ she teased. ‘Lost your nerve?’

  He switched off the engine, kicked the stand in place and climbed off with as much dignity as a man in his late forties could muster. It had been years since he’d ridden a motorbike for any length of time, and it took a moment to ease out his creaking muscles.

  ‘I’ll have less cheek from you, young lady,’ he chided, taking off his helmet and running his hand through his flattened hair. ‘You’re a menace on that thing, and I’m amazed you haven’t come off it the way you take those tight bends.’

  She grinned and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. ‘You worry too much,’ she said lightly before gripping his arm and looking up at him with pleading eyes. ‘Be nice to Pete, Dad. He’s a good man, and I love him very much.’

  Jack stiffened in defence, hurt to know his daughter didn’t trust him to be fair and polite. ‘Of course I’ll be nice to him,’ he retorted. ‘I’m not about to play the heavy-handed father, Rita, and am willing to give the lad a chance.’

  Rita regarded him for a long moment, her eyes challenging, for they both knew from past experience that his good intentions could fly out of the window if he thought she needed protecting. She finally gave a sigh and looked away. ‘Come on then. He’ll probably be in the garden h
aving elevenses, and I don’t know about you, but I could do with a cuppa after that ride.’

  Jack had never been on the estate before, but he’d listened to Ron’s tall stories about his poaching expeditions with his sons Jim and Frank, and it all felt surprisingly familiar as she led him along paths shaded by trees and hedges of hydrangeas, and past a long hut where she told him Sarah used to work as a secretary for the Women’s Timber Corps. It had clearly been turned into a sort of day room, for several men were sitting in wheelchairs on the veranda enjoying the sun as they chatted and drank beer.

  They passed pretty nurses in crisp white caps and blue dresses who strolled alongside their patients or sat with them on the lawns to watch a game of croquet being played by an enthusiastic but inept group of amputees, and Jack wondered if the girls had been picked especially for their looks to boost the men’s morale. The atmosphere was certainly easy-going and cheerful – and so very different to the chaos of the makeshift field hospital he’d been sent to in Belgium to get the German bullet out of his thigh – but that was something Rita didn’t need to know about.

  They eventually found Peter sitting alone in a cane chair at a table laid for morning tea in the shelter of a white-painted gazebo smothered in clambering roses and honeysuckle.

  Jack saw the younger man hurry to his feet and stumble slightly before he regained his balance, and realised he still had a way to go in his recuperation. As they approached one another it was immediately apparent to Jack as to why Rita was so enamoured with him. He was tall, well-built and handsome in his RAAF uniform, with the open face and sunny smile that seemed to be the characteristic of all Australians.

  ‘This is Pete,’ Rita said needlessly. ‘Pete, this is my dad, Jack.’

  The Australian’s handshake was dry and firm and the two men appraised one another steadily until the moment stretched uncomfortably and they drew apart. ‘How do you do?’ said Jack rather formally.

  ‘It’s good to meet you at last, sir,’ Peter replied with equal formality. ‘Rita’s talked about you a lot.’

  ‘I hope it wasn’t all bad,’ Jack said jovially. ‘And please, call me Jack.’

  Peter relaxed visibly and indicated they should all sit and enjoy the tea and biscuits. ‘Glad to see you made it, Jack,’ he said once they were settled and Rita had poured the tea. ‘I was in Europe near the end, so I have a fair idea of what you must have been through.’

  Jack was unwilling to discuss his war – especially in front of Rita. ‘I’m glad to be back,’ he said, glancing at the walking stick propped against Peter’s chair. ‘How’s your leg coming along?’

  ‘She’ll be right,’ he replied, giving his thigh a slap. ‘I still need the stick when I get tired, but I get physio every day and have to walk a lot.’ He grinned at Rita and took her hand. ‘I reckon me and Rita know every inch of this place with all the walking we’ve done lately.’

  Rita smiled back at him and Jack saw how radiant she was, how her adoration was mirrored in Peter’s eyes, and knew then that if Rita truly wanted to follow him to the other side of the world, there was nothing he could do or say to stop her. His little girl had become a woman in his absence – a woman in love who knew her own mind, and had the courage to follow her heart – just as her mother had done by defying her stuck-up family to marry him.

  Rita’s voice drew him from his thoughts. ‘Pete’s making terrific progress, but we’re both worried that if he’s passed fit, he’ll be posted somewhere miles away,’ she said. ‘So we’re making the most of the time we have together.’

  Peter kissed Rita’s wrist and looked lovingly into her eyes. ‘I wish things were different, darlin’, but with so many injured coming back and needing hospital beds far more urgently than me, I’m beginning to feel like a bludger.’

  He grinned at Jack’s frown. ‘That’s a lazy bloke who sits about making excuses for doing nothing,’ he explained. ‘And that’s not me, Jack. It’s a fair go if I’m chucked out tomorrow, but I have put in a request to be billeted in Cliffehaven until I’m shipped home. Whether that comes to anything or not only time will tell.’ He shrugged. ‘You know what it’s like in the forces, mate. You’re at the whim of some pen-pusher in uniform who thinks of you as a number and couldn’t care less if his orders are inconvenient.’

  ‘I certainly do,’ murmured Jack, noting with some amusement that he’d gone from sir to Jack to mate in the space of a few minutes. ‘But I’m sure that now you and Rita are engaged, the authorities will look kindly on your application.’

  ‘There’s the rub, Jack,’ Peter replied on a sigh. ‘Rita refused to agree to a proper engagement until she’d discussed it with you, so the authorities don’t know about us, and I can’t make any plans.’ Peter regarded him squarely across the table. ‘Look, Jack, I know you must have a lot of questions – I certainly would if I was in your shoes – so why don’t we go for a stroll round the gardens and clear things up between us?’

  ‘I think that’s a very good idea,’ Jack replied, impressed by the younger man’s straight talking. ‘Rita, do you mind us leaving you?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she said lightly. ‘Take your time. I’ll meet you back at the bikes, and then we can all go out to lunch.’ She grinned and replied to Jack’s unspoken question. ‘Pete can ride pillion behind me as usual. It’s quite safe.’

  Jack wasn’t at all sure about that after witnessing the way she rode that bike, but clearly it was something they did frequently without mishap, so he made no comment.

  Peter kissed Rita’s cheek, retrieved the walking stick, and the two men set off in silence down a meandering path, Jack measuring his pace to Peter’s slower one. They passed the pheasant pens and the dark salmon pool that Ron and his sons had used as their larder over the years, and caught sight of the surly gamekeeper patrolling with his vicious-looking dog which was thankfully on a short leash.

  Eventually the path petered out at the edge of an ancient forest of oak, ash and elm which shut out the sun and made it feel quite chilly until they finally emerged into a sunlit clearing that afforded them a magnificent view over the peaceful valley to the distant hills.

  ‘Those huts back there provided accommodation for the girls who used to cut the timber,’ explained Peter, ‘and that ruin on the side of the valley used to be a farmhouse until a V-1 got it. Luckily no one was in it at the time.’

  Jack spied the bench which had been placed to afford the very best of the magnificent view. ‘Let’s sit and talk, Peter,’ he said quietly. ‘I need to get to know more about you if I’m to let her go to the other side of the world with you.’

  ‘Too right you do,’ Peter replied cheerfully, sitting down and offering Jack a cigarette. ‘So, Jack, where would you like me to start?’ he asked moments later, the smoke curling from his mouth.

  ‘From the beginning.’

  Peter’s smile didn’t falter as he raised a questioning brow. ‘Strewth, mate, that’s a few years to cover, but if it means you’ll give us your blessing, I reckon it’s got to be done.’

  Jack listened as he talked of his childhood on the isolated sheep station in the Outback of Queensland: his older sisters who were now married, and the little brother who’d been tragically killed by a snake bite at the age of four.

  ‘I was only six at the time,’ he said, ‘but felt his loss as much as everyone. But these things happen out there, and I had a few close calls myself.’

  Peter went on to describe the education all Outback children received by two-way radio until they were old enough to attend boarding school in Brisbane, which he’d hated – and then the three-year mechanical engineering course which he’d thoroughly enjoyed. However, city life was not for him, and he’d returned home as soon as he was qualified to help on the station and learn to fly his father’s elderly twin-prop. His ambition was to set up as a roving mechanic and shearer, and when time allowed, he’d prospected for gold and the other treasures which lay beneath the empty red heart of Australia.

  �
��I’m used to the open spaces and big skies of Australia, you see, Jack. There’s a freedom out there where a man can breathe and be in touch with the ancient people who once roamed a land that has barely changed since time began.’ His smile was wistful. ‘We had Aborigines working for us on the property, and as a kid I used to love listening to their Dreamtime stories.’

  He crushed the butt of his cigarette under his heel and stared out at the view of green fields and rolling hills. ‘I fell in love with flying in Dad’s old plane, and once I could afford to buy my own, I was rarely home. There’s nothing like the freedom it gives you, Jack, and when you land in the middle of nowhere to camp under the stars and watch the glory of the Milky Way arch across the sky, it’s as if you’re at one with the earth and the people that came before.’

  Jack was mesmerised by his story and the vivid images he’d conjured up with such lyrical skill. It was no wonder Rita had been so taken with the idea of going there to see it for real. But the tale held a thread of warning to Jack, and he knew he had to follow it. ‘I hope you’re not planning to live the same nomadic life if you marry Rita,’ he said mildly.

  Peter gave a deep sigh. ‘My flying days are over, Jack. The knock I took to my head when I crash-landed means I could black out at the controls – and that’s not a risk I’ll take after surviving the last time.’

  ‘But you seem perfectly all right,’ murmured Jack.

  ‘Oh, yes, I’m fine for everything else.’ He stuck out his leg and shot Jack a grin. ‘Except for running a marathon, perhaps. But who knows? I might even do that one day.’

  Jack smiled back, liking this young man who seemed unfazed by anything, and had a good sense of humour. ‘So, if you can’t fly, what will you do?’

  ‘I’ve saved a lot of money over the past few years, so I asked Dad to send me agents’ lists of properties for sale on the north-east coast where it stays warm all year round.’ He grimaced and tapped his knee. ‘The damp here makes my leg crook – probably because of all the metal they used to hold it together.’