by Ellie Dean
As they passed Solly’s factory they were cheered and whistled at by the girls who were taking a break in the courtyard, and Peggy could see Solly standing at the office window with a beaming smile as he waved to them. Andy’s colleagues at the fire station were on the forecourt to cheer them on, and the shopkeepers in Camden Road came to their doors to wave and shout their good wishes.
Peggy became tearful again, for the lovely people of Cliffehaven knew the young couple’s story and clearly wanted to do them proud and ensure they had the best wedding day possible.
17
Stan had given a fulsome speech; Ron read out all the telegrams of congratulations that had come from Canada before reciting his favourite Irish blessing, and an emotional Mike thanked everyone for the sterling effort they’d made to ensure that he and his beautiful bride had the most perfect day. He went on to thank Rita, Ron and Stan for the part they’d played, and presented each of them with a gift – cufflinks for the men and a pretty gold locket for Rita – and then the small cake was cut with much ceremony, to rousing cheers and numerous toasts.
The drinks were flowing thanks to Mike’s generosity, and Rosie’s collusion with Gloria over the champagne and spirits which miraculously seemed always to be at hand in Gloria’s special cellar cupboard.
‘You’ve done them proud, Rosie,’ said Peggy above the loud chatter and laughter. ‘I don’t know how you and Gloria managed it, but I bet the Officers’ Club couldn’t have supplied such excellent champagne.’
Rosie winked. ‘The Officers’ Club don’t have Gloria’s contacts – and that’s all I’m saying.’ She glanced across at Cordelia who was giggling, her hat askew, her little face flushed as she sipped from another glass of sherry and tried to keep her balance on the wooden chair. ‘It might be wise to keep an eye on her,’ she murmured. ‘She’s going to slide straight off that chair and under the table in a minute.’
Peggy gently propped Cordelia to a more upright position and surreptitiously removed her glass. ‘What about a cup of tea, Cordy?’ she asked. ‘It won’t take a minute to put the kettle on.’
Cordelia eyed her blearily. ‘Tea? Tea’s for old ladies,’ she slurred. ‘I’ll stick to my sherry, thank you, dear.’ She frowned and looked round the table. ‘Where’s my glass?’
‘To be sure, Cordelia, your eyesight is not what it was,’ said Ron who was equally pie-eyed. ‘It’s right there.’
‘I’ll have you know my eyesight is as good as ever,’ Cordelia retorted, squinting at the collection of glasses on the table.
Ron reached for the glass Peggy had removed and, ignoring her glare of disapproval, topped it up. ‘Bottoms up,’ he said, raising his glass of beer and draining it.
‘For goodness’ sake, you two,’ hissed Peggy, trying her utmost to be stern. ‘Do try and behave.’
Cordelia giggled, slid sideways, and grabbed Ron’s arm to stop herself from falling between the two chairs.
Ron managed to get her upright again. ‘’Tis a good thing me glass was empty,’ he muttered. ‘Or we’d both have been awash in beer.’ He put his arm about her shoulders. ‘I’m thinking, Cordelia, that we’ve both had enough drink for one day.’
‘I’m sinking too,’ she replied, slowly sliding down her chair, her hat now over one eye. ‘But I agree, it has been fun today.’
Ron managed to stop her from sliding under the table and gathered her in his arms. ‘I’ll be taking her upstairs to sleep it off,’ he said to Peggy who was desperately trying not to laugh.
‘I’ll come up with you to make sure you don’t drop her,’ said Rosie as he swayed on his feet and Cordelia’s hat finally fell off. ‘By the looks of you, Ronan Reilly, you’re not fit to be in charge of a knife and fork, let alone an old lady.’
‘Ach, woman, it takes more than a few beers to make me incapable of carrying Cordelia. She weighs nothing, and I’ve been doing it for years.’ With that, he weaved his way out of the bar and very carefully carried Cordelia up the stairs, Rosie following nervously at his heels with the hat.
As the afternoon wore on and the noise grew in tandem with the emptying of bottles, Peggy joined in with the sing-song and thought wistfully of Fran and Ivy. It didn’t feel right not having Fran here to play her violin and get them all dancing, and poor little Ivy would have loved to be a part of all this instead of being down in Salisbury.
Peggy tuned out of the singing, wondering how both girls were getting on, and why Ivy had delayed bringing her young siblings back to Beach View – but then the children had probably become settled down there, and would find it an awful wrench to be taken away after all those years.
She watched Daisy and Paula dancing along to the raucous singing of ‘Little Brown Jug’. According to Ivy, her little sister had been Daisy’s age when she’d been sent down there, and her brother only two years older, and Peggy was profoundly grateful that she hadn’t sent Daisy away despite the dangers. It had been bad enough seeing her sons leave for Somerset, soon to be followed by her daughter and granddaughter – and look how reluctant they all were to come home. Peggy suspected that Ivy would be having a hard time of it in Salisbury, and her heart went out to her.
Feeling the onset of a headache, Peggy decided she’d make some tea and carefully made her unsteady way upstairs to the kitchen. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she looked in on Cordelia, and finding her snoring happily beneath a blanket on the spare bed, left her to it. She found some aspirins in the bathroom cabinet and swallowed a couple with the hot tea and felt almost instantly refreshed. The noise was still going on downstairs, and the two dogs had clearly beaten a retreat when they discovered there was no food for them and were now sprawled, entwined, along the couch.
Peggy stood by the window and chuckled as she looked down into the street. Ron and the rest of the men were busily tying tin cans to the back bumper of Mike’s hired car, fixing bangers under the front wheels, ribbons to the bonnet, and attaching a large sign to the boot, which she guessed proclaimed the occupants as newly-weds.
Watching them staggering about and giggling like schoolboys, Peggy was reminded of Jim doing much the same thing at Anne’s wedding. How he would have loved to have been a part of all this instead of being stuck in some horrid Burmese jungle, she thought wistfully. She was reminded then that there were two letters from him still waiting to be read at home – an added treat to be savoured after a lovely day.
She finished her cup of tea and hurried downstairs to join in the fun of seeing the couple off. They wouldn’t be going far – just back to the bungalow, where they would probably stay cocooned until Saturday morning. Their proper honeymoon would begin when they set sail for Canada.
Everyone in Camden Road stopped what they were doing to cheer as the couple emerged from the Anchor in a shower of more confetti and a good deal of back-slapping and hugs. Ruby was waving and blowing kisses as Mike started the car, and when it rolled forward the firecrackers beneath the front wheels went off with a volley of sharp bangs, and the cans set up a terrible racket as they were dragged along the road.
Everyone cheered and carried on waving as the car turned out of Camden Road onto the High Street, and the noise of those cans could still be heard in the distance as the car carried on right up the hill to the bungalow in Mafeking Terrace.
Since it was almost opening time, Peggy hitched a sleepy Daisy onto her hip and went back inside to lay her on the padded settle beneath the back window while she helped Rosie clear the tables. The party was already breaking up, for April had taken Paula home to bed; Bertie was on his way to the golf club in search of a game of bridge; Rita had poured Peter into a taxi before reporting for duty with Andy at the fire station, and Danuta had left some time ago for her district-nursing shift.
Stan and Ron were soon pushing the tables and chairs back into place, while Jack swept up the mess from the floor and collected the remains of the firecrackers and confetti from the pavement. Frank gathered up the empty bottles and carried them down to the cellar
where he also tapped a new barrel of beer to replace the empty one. Sarah, Jane and Cissy went upstairs to wash up the plates and cutlery, and Peggy joined Rosie and Pauline to set about washing all the glasses and putting the bar to rights again before the reliable Brenda turned up for the evening session.
Once everything was ship-shape, Ron, Jack, Frank and Stan settled down at the table by the inglenook with fresh glasses of beer and a plate of left-over sandwiches. It was likely they would stay there until Rosie called time. Peggy refused another glass of champagne and fetched the pushchair from the hall then carefully placed Daisy in it, covering her with a blanket.
‘I’m off home,’ she said to Pauline. ‘You’re welcome to come with me and stay the night, but you’ll have to share with Rita, I’m afraid.’
Pauline buttoned her tailored jacket and smoothed her skirt over her narrow hips. ‘Thank you, but I finally persuaded Frank to get the car out of storage and roadworthy again, so I’ll be driving home.’ She glanced across at the group by the inglenook and grimaced. ‘It looks as if he’ll be here for the night again, but at least I won’t have to put up with his awful snoring.’
‘Yes, it does get worse after they’ve had a drink, doesn’t it?’ replied Peggy, rather relieved she wouldn’t have to spend the evening with her tiresome sister-in-law. ‘I must say, Pauline,’ she went on, eyeing the skirt and jacket which had definitely not been made at Solly’s factory, ‘you do look very smart, and I like the way you’ve done your hair.’
Pauline patted the neat brown curls. ‘I decided to treat myself to a permanent wave,’ she said. ‘And to a new wardrobe now I’ve been promoted.’
Peggy raised a questioning brow, for she’d never thought of Pauline as a career woman.
‘I’m now senior assistant to the administrator at the Red Cross distribution centre, and as the charity will be remaining in Cliffehaven, it’s a full-time, permanent post.’
‘Goodness me. Very well done, Pauline. I’m delighted for you,’ said Peggy with genuine sincerity. ‘They must think a lot of you to do that.’
Pauline looked smug. ‘They do indeed,’ she replied, gathering up her handbag. ‘So much so that when Brendon comes home, they promised to give me a week off on full pay.’
‘Have you heard when he’s due back?’
‘He’s already ashore having been demobbed from the Royal Naval Reserve. But he chose to spend his first two weeks with that girl, Betty, down in Devon,’ she replied, her lips thinning in disapproval.
Peggy made no comment, for this was typical of her sister-in-law’s attitude to Brendan’s girl.
Pauline carried on. ‘It seems he’s planning to bring her home to meet us, and will call in on my mother on the way.’ Her lip curled. ‘But I doubt she’ll be at home as usual, and it will serve her right if she misses her only grandson. Dolly was never much one for family, as you know.’
Peggy was all too familiar with the friction that existed between Pauline and her mother, so didn’t ask after Dolly who was actually a very good mother in her way, and had become a close friend over the years. As this conversation was heading into dangerous, rather depressing waters, she decided to take her leave.
‘Well, you take care driving home,’ she said. ‘It’s been a long time since you’ve driven that car, and it’s a tricky bit of road to Tamarisk Bay.’
Not waiting for a reply, she turned to the girls who were ensconced at the end of the bar finishing off the last bottle of champagne. ‘I’m off home to put Daisy to bed,’ she said. ‘Try to see that Jack makes it back in one piece.’
‘Jack will have to look after himself,’ replied Cissy. ‘We’re going dancing once we’ve finished this.’
Peggy regarded Sarah, Jane and Cissy, hoping they weren’t too squiffy after the afternoon’s drinking, for all sorts of shady types hung about the clubs and dance halls looking to take advantage of such girls. ‘Just mind you watch out for each other and stay together. And please don’t make too much noise when you come in.’
Kissing the girls goodbye, and giving Rosie a hug, Peggy left the Anchor and slowly wheeled the pushchair towards home. It had been a perfect day, and once Daisy was asleep, she would change into her nightclothes, make a cup of tea and snuggle down by the fire to finally read Jim’s letters properly.
With a cheerful fire burning in the range to chase away the chill and the curtains drawn against the rapidly darkening sky, Peggy made the cup of tea, wrapped her dressing gown around her and settled down in the armchair with her letters, savouring the moment before opening them again.
They’d been posted a few days apart and bore a new return address ALFSEA which Jim had translated in pencil on the line beneath as Allied Landing Forces in South East Asia. Making a note of this, Peggy carefully prised the letter open and began to read.
My darling Peggy,
We managed to survive our short leave, although it was a close-run thing, what with the heavy monsoon and high winds which blew our bashas to bits so all our kit got soaked. Not that it’s ever really dry; it always stinks to high heaven with damp. It’s a miserable way to live, and to top it all, we had to contend with rats as big as dogs, and swarms of flying ants.
We set about making traps to catch the rats but they proved worse than useless, so Jumbo rented a good ratter of a dog from one of the Burmese natives which proved far more effective and was worth every rupee and packet of fags he paid for it.
You asked in your last letter how the fighting is going. Well, we’re doing our bit in the big push to advance and giving the Japs hell, so I’m convinced it will all soon be over and I’ll be packing to come home.
We seem to pack and unpack constantly for we’re always on the move, and have only just completed yet another very long march through almost impossible jungle terrain to make camp in the teeming rain. I’m chilled to the bone in soaking clothes, sweating at the same time and aching from head to foot. I’m hoping it’s not another bout of malaria coming on because it will mean having to be carted off to a field hospital where the conditions aren’t that much better – but at least the dysentery is holding off for the moment.
I shall be so glad to get away from this filthy jungle and sweating rice paddies, and it’s at times like this that I long to be back in the cool shade of the Cliffe estate’s woodlands, or down by the dark eel pools where Dad used to forage for berries and wild herbs before bringing back a sack of eels. I never really liked jellied eels, but anything’s preferable to bully beef.
I can’t explain where we are, why we’re here or what we’re doing, because frankly, Peggy, none of us knows what lies ahead – although we can make a pretty good guess. At the moment it’s a waiting game, and although everyone is calm, you can feel the tension building in anticipation of our new orders.
It’s stinking hot and because it’s so wet underfoot, we’re sleeping in our trucks, jammed in like blooming sardines and constantly pestered by great swarms of flies and troops of thieving monkeys – but at least the rats are leaving us alone.
I haven’t heard from Anne and the boys since VE Day, but I’m assuming they’ve been occupied with packing up and coming home to you. Tell them to write, Peggy; the letters and cards I get mean so much to me and they brighten even the darkest monsoon cloud. Cissy has sent numerous postcards which don’t say much, and I’m wondering if her American flyer ever did come home to her. I so look forward to reading all the news from home, Peggy, and although I realise you must be extremely busy, please keep writing to me.
With love and the hope we’ll soon be together again,
Jim xxx
Peggy folded the letter and stared into the glowing fire, her heart aching for poor Jim who was really going through terrible times, and clearly utterly miserable and depressed. She couldn’t imagine how awful it must be to have to put up with those conditions day after day, all the while suffering from the after-effects of malaria and dysentery and never knowing what awaited him.
She gave a sharp sigh of an
noyance and reached for her packet of cigarettes. Those in charge of the servicemen out there had to know how appalling the conditions were, for in the past there had been no fighting during the monsoon, and to her mind they were asking too much of men like Jim who’d already given their all – and then more.
But it seemed this latest jungle expedition heralded the final big push to get the Japs out of Burma once and for all – and at least they would be suffering the same deprivations and hardships as Jim and his men, which was some small consolation. Why the hell the Japs didn’t just accept they’d lost and call it a day, Peggy didn’t know, for it was obvious the war in the Far East was all but over.
She finished her cigarette and threw the butt in the fire before opening Jim’s second letter. This proved to have been written in much the same vein, with moans about the weather, the conditions, the half-rations and the terrible, mind-numbing boredom that had set in as they waited for their new orders to come through.
Jim was clearly feeling depressed, isolated and forgotten out there. The men had nothing to entertain them but the drum of the rain and the whine of mosquitoes. The one thing that had cheered them all was the first mention of the official demob plans – but it seemed they would have to wait until his unit had finished their current task and returned to HQ and a well-earned rest. He finished off:
Tell everyone to write to the new address. We’re never in the same place for very long, but the mail is delivered with our supply drops and comes regularly unless there’s a typhoon or some such weather to hold up the planes.
I hope you’re keeping well and that Brendon and the others have made it through. Frank has written often, telling me about Pauline’s job and the freedom it has given him to get the boats seaworthy and prepared to go fishing again. I’m glad he’s got his compensation from the government, so on my return I’m expecting to see a new fleet anchored under the Cliffehaven cliffs, just as they were when Dad and Grandad were in charge.