by Ellie Dean
She finished clearing the table and swiftly washed the dishes, her thoughts on all her other chicks. She’d yet to hear from Fran or Ivy, and could only hope that things had gone well for them. As for Anne and Martin, there had been no word since Anne’s excited telephone call on Monday morning to tell her he was due to arrive in Taunton that evening.
Peggy’s thoughts returned to Ruby as she began to remove the plates of sandwiches, iced buns and jam tarts from the larder, setting them on the table and checking that the tea towels were still damp over the sandwiches to keep them fresh – which they weren’t. Ruby had confided in her that she’d been fretting over who should give her away, for she loved and admired Stan and Ron equally, and it didn’t seem right to pick one over the other. Peggy hadn’t really been able to advise her, for it had to be her decision, but in the end it had been Mike who’d solved the problem by asking Ron to be his best man.
Peggy clucked her tongue at the thought as she soaked the cloths again and wrapped them round the sandwiches. The young man was asking for trouble to do such a thing, and goodness only knows what state he and Ron would be in this morning for, according to Rosie, Ron had roped in his son Frank, Stan, Rita’s Peter, Jack and Ivy’s Andy to help Mike celebrate his forthcoming nuptials. Peter had turned up with a couple of lively Australians from Cliffe, Jack had brought an old pal he’d bumped into earlier, and Andy came with three of the fire crew who weren’t on duty – and when a group of Canadian soldiers had come into the Anchor, they’d joined in with full-blooded enthusiasm.
Peggy started on a batch of potted meat sandwiches, wondering how Jack was managing to sleep through the racket the girls were making upstairs. Rosie had rung her earlier to assure her that Mike was safely back at the bungalow; she’d poured Peter and his mates into a taxi to take them back to Cliffe, dropping Jack off at Beach View along the way, and closed the door firmly on the Canadians, the firemen and Jack’s pal. Frank was snoring in tandem with Ron on her sitting room floor with both dogs, and the bar looked as if a whirlwind had blown through it.
Peggy had quickly promised to get there as soon as possible to help with the clear-up, but Rosie had replied rather grimly that she’d do no such thing, and that Ron and Frank would see to it once she’d woken them by rubbing cold, wet flannels over their faces.
‘I’ve just woken Dad,’ said Rita breathlessly as she came into the kitchen with Ruby. ‘He’s in a bit of a state after last night so I doubt he’ll want breakfast, but I’ll make him a strong cup of tea before I leave.’
‘I’ll do that,’ said Peggy, reaching for the kettle whilst admiring the two lovely young women. ‘My goodness, don’t you both look glamorous?’ she said, thinking that Rita actually looked better without all that make-up. ‘And how’s our beautiful bride this morning?’
Ruby’s eyes were bright with happiness. ‘Nervous. Excited. All the things I should be.’ She gently hugged Peggy. ‘Thank you for putting me up last night and for everything you’ve done for our special day. Mike and I could never have managed it all on our own.’
Peggy hugged her back, careful not to disturb the perfect make-up and glossy hair. ‘I always promised I’d do my best for my chicks, Ruby – and it will be the same for you, Rita, when your turn comes. Now be off, the pair of you, and I’ll see you at the Town Hall.’
They clattered down the steps to the basement, and as Peggy watched through the kitchen window, fairly skipped along the path and out of the back gate.
She chuckled as she went into the hall to collect the post she’d heard arrive several minutes ago. The sun was shining, the bride was beautiful and the day promised to be a very happy one. She plucked the letters from the hall table and shuffled through them to discover two from Jim. Her day was just getting better and better.
Cissy had followed Ruby and Rita downstairs, meaning to grab a cup of tea before she got dressed and dealt with her own hair and face. Seeing that the post had arrived, she quickly rifled through the letters and cards in the hope there would be a brown forces envelope containing news from Randy.
There were two such envelopes, but they were from her father, and it seemed she’d have to go through yet another day with no news. She was about to take the pile into the kitchen when something fluttered from it to the floor. It was an air letter, and thinking it was most likely for Cordelia or Sarah, she picked it up and merely glanced at the address.
And then she looked again and read it more carefully. The letter was for her, but the writing was unfamiliar and there was no clue on the back as to who had written it. Something cold settled in the pit of her stomach, and she placed the rest of the post back on the table before carrying the air letter up to the bathroom.
Her heart was thudding as she locked the door and sank onto the stool, the thin blue paper clutched in her shaking hand. Praying silently that her fears were unfounded and that this was just from someone she’d known at Cliffe, she drew a pin from her hair and carefully slit through the gummed flap so the single page unfolded. Her gaze flew to the signature beneath the three short paragraphs and all hope died.
It took a while before she could read what he had to say, for her tears were blinding her and her hands were shaking so much, the writing was just a blur.
Dear Cissy,
As we were once very close, I felt it was important to write to you to let you know that I’m now back in the States with my family. I’m sure Freddy Pargeter has told you about the ordeals we shared over the years of imprisonment, and I hope that he’s fully recovered – as have I. To my regret, we got separated when we were picked up, half-dead, somewhere in Germany. He was air-lifted to England, and I was taken to an American facility in Holland before being flown home, so I never got to say goodbye.
I have fond memories of the short time we spent together, and hope you do too. But I’m sure you’d agree that wartime romances were brought about by youthful exuberance and the times we were living in when life had to be lived to the full because tomorrow was uncertain. Now the war is over and we’re more experienced and mature, we can both look back on those days with affection, see them for what they were and hold no regrets.
I hope you and your lovely family have come through unscathed and that you are with someone who makes you smile that glorious smile which once sent my heart racing. I wish you good health, happiness, and the very best of luck in the future.
Yours sincerely,
Randolph
‘Cissy, whatever are you doing in there, girl?’ demanded Cordelia from the other side of the door. ‘I need to wash my hands before Bertie arrives.’
Cissy swallowed the lump in her throat and dashed away her tears. ‘I’ll be just another minute,’ she replied, stuffing the letter into her trouser pocket and leaping to her feet.
Much relieved that she’d yet to put on her make-up which would have been ruined by her tears, she splashed cold water on her face and then checked for signs that she’d been crying in the mirror. Thankfully her eyes weren’t too red or puffy, and a quick pinch of her cheeks brought a bit of colour back to her face. The last thing she needed was for her mother or Cordelia to start asking questions.
Ducking out of the bathroom, she apologised to Cordelia for keeping her waiting, then fetched her make-up case from Rita’s deserted room. The house seemed very quiet – too quiet. She glanced at her watch in momentary panic as she hurried down the stairs, and then saw there was plenty of time to sort herself out before she had to be at the Anchor.
A hung-over Jack sat alone at the kitchen table in his demob suit, a strong cup of tea in front of him, and a cigarette burning between his fingers. ‘Where is everyone?’ she asked.
‘Peggy and the girls have taken the food to the Anchor,’ he replied, running a finger inside his stiff shirt collar and adjusting his tie. ‘They’ve left me those to carry over once Bertie’s arrived to drive Cordelia about,’ he added, nodding towards the two large plates of sandwiches on the table.
Cissy left him to his hango
ver and hurried down to her basement room. She would not let Randy’s offhand rejection upset her, she vowed, opening her make-up case and starting on her face. This was Ruby and Mike’s wedding day, and no one would ever know of the bitter hurt and disappointment she would hide behind the bright smile that Randy said had once made his heart race.
‘Bastard,’ she hissed softly, and added a defiant slash of scarlet to her lips.
It was still early when Rosie had banished Ron and Harvey from the pub, making Ron promise he’d get Mike sober and to the Town Hall on time. Arriving at the bungalow, he’d found that the young man was already bathed and shaved and looking very smart in his dress uniform, but his eyes were still bloodshot, he was shaking with nerves, and he’d had to take a couple of aspirin for his headache.
Ron wasn’t so bright himself after being roughly woken with a cold flannel and then ordered to help Frank clear up the mess they’d made the previous night. Rosie had provided them both with strong tea but refused to cook breakfast as she had more important things to do, so he was feeling very hard done by.
Finding bread, sausages, bacon and eggs in the larder, he set about making tea and cooking a hearty fry-up, which in his experience was the only cure for a hangover, and they sat down in companionable silence to polish it off as Harvey watched every mouthful in the hope of scraps.
With them both feeling a lot brighter, they went out into the pocket handkerchief back garden to get some fresh air and clear their heads of the last vestiges of alcohol before they had to face the women.
Harvey watered the few plants and nosed about the weeds in search of enticing smells before slumping onto the grass with a deep sigh of disappointment. He’d had no scraps and there was nothing to chase.
‘It’s a nice day for it,’ Ron said, packing his pipe with the good tobacco Mike had given him, and looking up at the almost cloudless sky.
Mike lit a cigarette and chuckled. ‘I’ve learnt not to trust the English weather. It can be like this one minute and pouring down in a howling gale the next. It’s even worse in the Highlands of Scotland, and I can’t recall ever feeling really warm – even in the height of summer.’
‘I imagine it would be cold that far north,’ muttered Ron around the stem of his pipe. ‘But you must be used to it after living in Canada.’
‘The cold back home is crisp and dry, not like the damp cold here that gets into your bones.’
‘Well, I don’t think it’ll change much today,’ said Ron, who prided himself on being able to forecast the weather. ‘The sky’s too blue and what clouds there are don’t promise rain.’
Mike nodded distractedly and looked at his watch. ‘I guess we ought to start making our way down,’ he said. ‘I know it’s still a little early, but we’ll need to park the car outside the Anchor and walk up the hill – and I want to be inside waiting for her when she comes down the aisle.’
Ron recognised a nervous groom when he saw one, and reassuringly patted Mike on the shoulder. ‘If we arrive too early we’ll get caught up in the wedding already going on, so best to enjoy our smokes and then take our time getting down there.’
‘Okay, if you say so,’ Mike replied doubtfully. ‘But I think I’ll just go to the bathroom again and then check the car starts and that there’s enough petrol, oil and water in it.’
Ron smiled as Mike hurried back into the bungalow. There was no need to check anything because Mike had done all that yesterday, but he seemed to feel the need to do something, and who was he to stop him?
‘Ach, Harvey,’ he muttered affectionately to the supine dog. ‘Weddings, eh? They make fools of us all.’
Harvey cocked his head, eyed him soulfully and with a soft snort, went back to snoozing in the sun.
Ron knocked the burnt tobacco from his pipe and pondered on the masterful feat of organisation it had taken to make sure today went smoothly – and most of it could be attributed to the women who seemed to have a knack for such things.
He looked at his watch, surprised at how quickly the morning had gone. Rosie, Peggy and the girls would have finished messing about at the Anchor by now, and be getting ready to leave for the walk to the Town Hall. Bertie was under strict orders from Peggy to drop off Cordelia on his way to the station cottage where he would pick up Ruby, Rita and Stan. April would be making her own way to the Town Hall with baby Paula once she’d handed over the day’s train schedule to the stand-in railway official, and Rita had ordered a taxi to fetch Peter from Cliffe.
Ron checked the time again. There was just over half an hour to go before the ceremony, so it was probably time to drive Mike down there before his nerves got the better of him.
Peggy had only managed to quickly scan through Jim’s letters as the morning’s rush had kept her more than occupied, but she was looking forward to reading them properly once the hullabaloo was all over. She saw Ron and Mike already waiting by the steps as she approached the Town Hall with Daisy, Rosie and the girls, and heaved a sigh of relief that they were on time and sober. Mike looked a bit green around the gills, but a nip from Ron’s hip flask seemed to put a bit of colour into his face and he managed to flash them a nervous smile before he followed Ron and Harvey up the steps to the entrance hall.
The previous wedding must have just finished, for the bride and groom emerged, surrounded by family and friends in a shower of confetti, reminding Peggy that she’d forgotten to buy any. But it was too late to worry about such things now. Peter was paying off the taxi and she could see Bertie’s beribboned car slowly approaching from the top of the hill.
Chivvying the others to get a move on, she eased her way through the happy group on the steps and hurried up the red-carpeted, grand staircase to the large room where the ceremony was to be held.
Cordelia was already there in the front row of chairs, chattering away to Ron and Mike as Harvey flopped down patiently beneath Ron’s seat and the female registrar tried to ignore his presence, no doubt having been informed by Ron that the Mayor had given his permission for the dog to be here – which he hadn’t, of course, but she wouldn’t know that until after the ceremony.
Peggy noted how Cordelia’s silver hair gleamed beneath the pretty straw hat trimmed with purple ribbon, and that she looked much younger than her eighty years in her pale lilac dress and coat. But it was a worry that there were so few of them to celebrate this wedding, what with Ruby refusing to even tell her mother about it, and Mike’s family being in Canada, and she could only hope the room didn’t echo too much during the ceremony.
She nodded her thanks to Ron and kissed Mike’s pale cheek. ‘There’s nothing to be nervous about,’ she murmured. ‘Ruby’s on her way.’
He smiled at her gratefully, sat down, and then stood up again to look anxiously towards the door, clearly still on edge.
Peggy sat next to Cordelia, settled an excited Daisy beside her, and gazed round at the small gathering which barely filled two rows of the many chairs. Sarah, Jane and Danuta looked lovely in their summer dresses and lightweight jackets, as did young April who had just come in with her little Paula.
Rosie was wearing her pale blue going-away costume with her white fox fur slung artfully over one shoulder, and Cissy looked just as sophisticated in a beautifully cut navy-blue dress with a matching broad-brimmed hat and two-tone high-heeled shoes. Peter was in his RAAF dress uniform; Andy was in his fireman’s uniform; Frank was in his best suit, and his wife, Pauline, wore a close-fitting dove-grey jacket over a matching pencil-slim skirt and white blouse.
Peggy raised an eyebrow, for she’d never seen Pauline looking so smart before, but she didn’t have time to ponder on the reason behind this transformation, for the registrar had switched on the piped music of the wedding march and was indicating they should all stand.
Everyone turned to watch as Ruby entered the room on Stan’s arm, looking radiant in a cream silk knee-length dress and matching jacket trimmed with lace. Her simple hat of cream velvet sat neatly on her crown of glossy brown hair, the bi
rdcage netting not quite hiding her shining dark eyes that held Mike’s with such adoration. She carried a bouquet of delicate pink peonies that had hearts of a deeper pink which matched Rita’s floor-length dress perfectly, and on her feet were a pair of high-heeled gold sandals.
Peggy welled up immediately as she watched Stan proudly lead Ruby towards an awed Mike, and hearing Cordelia sniffling beside her, couldn’t help but smile through her tears. Weddings always made them cry, but today’s seemed extra special, for Ruby was one of their own who’d lived through hell before she’d found hope and love in Cliffehaven, and Mike bore the scars of that disastrous Dieppe raid with admirable stoicism. They were both survivors in their own way, and had more than earnt the right to be so very much in love.
Ron came to sit beside Rosie and lovingly took her hand as the young couple exchanged their vows, and when Mike placed the ring on Ruby’s finger and kissed his bride, there was a general sigh of pleasure and smattering of applause.
Stan was doing his best to hide his tears as he sat next to April, for little Paula was watching him with deep concern, her face puckering up to howl in sympathy. This was swiftly avoided by April moving her to her other side and distracting her with a lollipop.
Daisy spotted the sweet immediately, and looked up at Peggy expectantly. Peggy dug in her handbag and found a toffee, glad she’d remembered to bring something to keep Daisy quiet whilst the register was being signed.
It didn’t take too long for the large book to be signed and dated, and the young couple held hands, their faces beaming as they walked back towards the door. Everyone hurried after them, and as they gathered on the Town Hall steps, Stan and April threw confetti, and Bertie used his box Brownie to take a whole roll of pictures.
And then, with Cordelia riding like a queen in Bertie’s car, it was a leisurely stroll down the High Street towards Camden Road and the reception at the Anchor. Gloria emerged from the Crown to wish them luck and hand over a bottle of champagne. Housewives in the queues outside the shops turned to congratulate them and men doffed their hats as delivery boys whistled cheekily from their bicycles.