With Hope and Love

by Ellie Dean

  ‘They are excuses,’ she conceded, ‘but I’m not afraid of anything.’ This was a lie: she knew deep down that she was dreading having to cope with Martin and his moods on her own. And yet there was a very valid reason for not returning to Cliffehaven, and she couldn’t think why she hadn’t mentioned it.

  ‘The fact is, our cottage is rented out until the end of August so we’d have to move in with Mum at the boarding house. There are three lodgers still living at Beach View along with Grandma Cordelia and little Daisy, so it’s already a bit of a squash. Now Mum’s told me there’s been some sort of trouble in the family, and she’s asked my cousin Brendon and his wife to move in with their baby, so the crush would be even worse.’

  She returned George’s steady gaze. ‘Although Mum would welcome us with open arms, Martin simply wouldn’t be able to cope with the noise of four small children in the house, let alone a clutch of strangers going in and out all day.’

  George nodded. ‘I do see your point,’ he murmured. ‘But even so, I still think Martin would fare better in Cliffehaven than he is here.’

  Anne had already come to that conclusion. She’d been so fixed on her ideas for his homecoming that she had not been prepared for its reality. The isolation and peace she’d thought would help him heal had had the opposite effect, and Martin was really struggling.

  ‘If we had our own home to go to, then I’d agree,’ she said. ‘I’ll try and talk it over with him tonight if he’s back from the pub and sober enough for a proper conversation. But I really don’t think it’s wise to take him to Beach View. He’s simply not ready for it.’

  The ancient bus rattled down the hill and spluttered into the village, finally coming to a halt outside the schoolhouse with a sigh and much squealing of brakes. Everyone alighted and said their goodbyes, then went their separate ways to the homes which would now feel so empty without the children.

  Anne stayed by the school gate, reluctant to go home just yet. While George had a conversation with the bus driver, she let her gaze drift over the small schoolhouse with its pocket-handkerchief playground, and then along the huddle of cottages and shops that lined the village street. She felt a great affection for it all, especially today when the thatched roofs glowed in the sun and the gardens were full of colour.

  ‘I shall miss this place when I do leave,’ she said after the bus had left in a cloud of exhaust fumes. ‘Everyone has been so kind and welcoming to us over the years that it really does feel like home.’

  ‘Belinda and I feel the same way,’ said George, ‘but unfortunately things are about to change and we might not be here much longer.’

  Anne was startled from her thoughts. ‘Why? What changes?’

  ‘I wasn’t going to say anything until the staff meeting tomorrow, but I suppose it doesn’t matter.’ He took a breath as if to steel himself for what was to come and clutched his jacket lapels. ‘I received a letter from the Education Board yesterday morning telling me that once the evacuees have left, the numbers will be too low to sustain the cost of running the school, and if we don’t increase our intake come September term, it will be closed down.’

  ‘No!’ Anne gasped. ‘But where will the village children go?’

  ‘They’ll go by bus to the bigger school in the next town, I suspect,’ he replied sadly. ‘Of course they won’t get the same close attention to their educational progress in those large classes and will have to learn to adapt to being just a number amongst so many.’

  He gazed at the small brick building with its plaque declaring its foundation in 1856, and gave a deep sigh. ‘It’s awful to think the school has been here for almost a hundred years and it’ll be closed on my watch.’

  ‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s not your fault the Education Board are being so short-sighted. The numbers are bound to rise again now the men are home.’ She eyed him with concern. ‘But what will you and Belinda do if it does close?’

  ‘Find a position in another school, I suppose,’ he replied. ‘I can’t pretend that Belinda and I won’t find it an awful wrench to leave, but we both agree we’d rather avoid the larger city schools and try to find another village where we can settle down and become part of the community as we have done here.’

  ‘Then I hope you’ll find it, George.’ Anne squeezed his arm. ‘And wish you both all the luck in the world. You deserve it.’

  George reddened and avoided looking at Anne. ‘I don’t know about deserving anything in particular,’ he murmured bashfully, ‘but it is quite important we find the right place to live and work. You see, Belinda and I are expecting a baby in December.’

  Anne threw her arms round him and gave him a quick hug, aware they could be seen by half the village and would no doubt set tongues wagging. ‘Oh, George,’ she breathed. ‘That’s the very best news I’ve heard in ages. Congratulations.’

  He went a deeper scarlet and dug his hands into his jacket pockets. ‘Yes, it is rather. We’re both thrilled, but the notice from the Education Board couldn’t have come at a worse time.’

  Anne chuckled. ‘Then we’ll just have to hope that the rest of the village follow your example and start having lots and lots of babies.’

  She left him with a cheerful wave at the gate of the headmaster’s cottage where he lived with Belinda, and began the walk home. Despite the threat of the school closure, it was wonderful news about the baby, and she could only hope she could keep up her high spirits long enough to face whatever awaited her at Owlet Farm.

  Violet was affectionately known to all as Auntie Vi, even though she was aunt only to Sally and no relation whatsoever to Anne. She was now sixty, with a thick mop of silver hair and a comfortably rounded figure, but was still taking an active role in running the farm with Anne’s brother Bob. Dressed in her usual wellington boots and many layers of clothing despite the warm day, she was herding the last of the cows into the milking shed. She looked round with a beaming smile as Anne came into the cobbled yard and waved.

  ‘It’s all been happening today,’ she said, following the last cow into the shed and cleaning its udders before attaching them to the milking machine. ‘We’ve got a new dairyman at last, and two more farmhands to help Claus and Bob.’

  Without pausing for breath, Vi hurried on. ‘And Claus has been with his young Lily to see the vicar, and arrange their wedding for mid-July. Her parents have finally come to realise she’s determined to marry him, and although they’re still a little frosty at the idea of her marrying a German, they’ve given their permission.’

  She chuckled. ‘The fact she’s expecting probably had a lot to do with it,’ she added with a wink. ‘But don’t say anything; he told me that in confidence.’

  Anne grinned. ‘My lips are sealed. And I have news for you too,’ she said. ‘George and Belinda are also expecting a happy event, but I’m not sure that’s for public consumption just yet. It’s still very early days. On a sadder note, the school is on the brink of being closed.’

  Vi clucked her tongue and shook her head. ‘We’ll have to fight against it,’ she said firmly. ‘That school is an intrinsic part of the community and, with babies bound to be on the way now the men are home, we’re going to need it. Perhaps, if your Conservative candidate gets in, he’ll support our fight. Have a word with him, dear. You can be very persuasive, so he might listen.’

  Anne didn’t really think he would, but nodded anyway. ‘How has Martin been today?’

  ‘I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him since the morning milking. He left the house shortly after you did, and he’s not back yet.’ Vi gave a deep sigh and grasped Anne’s hand. ‘I am sorry, dear – for both of you. It can’t be at all easy, and I do wish there was something I could do to help.’

  Anne told her about the long, difficult conversation she’d had with George. ‘I was hoping he’d be here so we could talk about what to do for the best,’ she said finally. ‘But it seems the only real option I have is to take him home as soon as the elect
ion’s over.’

  ‘I think you’re right,’ murmured Vi. ‘Although it will be horribly quiet around here once you’ve all gone.’ She gazed across the yard to the row of small cottages where Sally lived with her younger brother, Ernie, and her little boy, Harry. ‘I’ve got used to the sound of the children’s voices,’ she said sadly.

  ‘You could always come with us, Auntie Vi.’

  She shook her head. ‘Bless you, dear, but this is where I belong, and where I’ll stay until I turn up my toes. Bob, Claus and I can carry on now we have extra help, and in time there will be other children playing in the fields.’

  She looked up at Anne and patted her cheek. ‘The world keeps turning, Anne, and we adapt to the changes it brings – just as we do to the seasons. The things that worry us now are eventually resolved, the fears fade and what we once thought was important becomes insignificant as life’s adventure carries us on. I know you’re finding life very difficult at the moment, but with love and a good deal of patience, that will change, I promise.’

  Anne could feel tears prickling as she kissed the rosy cheek. ‘I do want to believe that,’ she managed. ‘Thank you for being so very kind to us all over the years. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.’

  ‘Oh, you’d have managed,’ Vi said with breezy dismissal. ‘You’re a very capable young woman, Anne.’ She cocked her head at Bob’s shout from inside the milking shed. ‘It seems I’m needed,’ she said cheerfully. ‘The children have been bathed and fed, and there’s a bottle of my parsnip wine in the kitchen. Forget your troubles for a while and just enjoy Sally’s company on her last evening here.’

  Anne gave a rueful smile as the small round figure bustled away. Vi’s parsnip wine was famous all over the county for its deceptive honeyed notes, for it was a lethal concoction which slipped down far too easily and left the drinker with a blinding hangover the following morning. But, despite their very different backgrounds, Sally had become a close friend over the years they’d lived at Owlet Farm, and Anne could think of no better way to relax and set aside her cares than to spend the evening in her lively company.

  Cliffehaven

  It was Saturday and the very last day in June and Peggy was sitting in the front row of the wedding room in the Town Hall with Cordelia, watching the guests arrive.

  Despite the fact Ivy had no family to speak of, it was a marvellous turn-out. The men from the local fire station had just come in looking very smart in their black uniforms, and they cheerfully greeted John Hicks, who was acting as best man today, and went on to tease the groom, who was similarly dressed, and waiting nervously by the registrar’s table.

  Doris was wearing a fancy hat and smart navy two-piece as she arrived on John White’s arm, and Rosie looked terrific in a scarlet dress and enormous black hat. Not to be outdone, Gloria’s hat was even bigger, and her dress was an eye-watering orange. It was skin-tight and far too short, but Gloria carried it off with her usual aplomb. With jangling bracelets and earrings, she approached an ashen-faced Andy and ordered him to take a nip from her brandy flask before he fell down. This achieved, she plumped down next to her sister in the front row and passed the flask amongst the firemen.

  Stan from the station was in his best suit, and firmly gripping Harvey’s lead as the dog slumped beneath his chair, sporting a red ribbon bow on his collar. Peggy smiled, for she knew there had been a bit of a rumpus between the registrar and the Mayor following Ruby’s wedding, but it seemed the Mayor had decided he preferred the quiet life and had given Ron belated permission to have the dog with him during such ceremonies.

  Sarah, April and Danuta were in their pretty summer frocks and straw hats; Peter Ryan was in his uniform and Jane looked extremely sophisticated in a figure-hugging pink dress and broad-brimmed cream hat as she arrived on the arm of her young man, Jeremy Curtis.

  Jeremy had arrived that morning from London and had been a very pleasant surprise for Jane who hadn’t thought he could take time off from his work. He was tall, slim and brown-eyed, with a lick of dark hair which, rather boyishly, fell over his forehead. Quietly spoken and rather shy behind those tortoiseshell-framed glasses, he reminded Peggy a little of Fran’s Robert, but he soon revealed a marvellous sense of humour which had clearly captured Jane’s heart, and certainly endeared him to Peggy and Cordelia.

  Peggy had just managed not to ask about any future wedding plans, or enquire after what sort of work he was doing in London, but by the look of him, she suspected he was something important in one of the government offices.

  She glanced across to make sure that Daisy was behaving herself on the other side of the room with April and little Paula; then checked that Cordelia had enough handkerchiefs, and that Andy’s mother, Beryl, wasn’t being squashed by her sister Gloria’s bulk.

  Beryl was the very opposite of Gloria, small, skinny, quietly dressed, but a bag of nervous energy. She’d come down from London this morning, arriving at the Crown in a bustle and fluster, fearing she was late as the train had been delayed. Peggy had met her only briefly outside the Town Hall, but she seemed very pleasant, and it would be lovely to get to know her better during the reception.

  Peggy breathed in the heady scent of the roses and lilies that Stan had arranged in vases about the room. She glanced at her watch, shot Andy a look of encouragement and sympathy, and gave a sigh. Ivy was in danger of being late – as usual – and with the Town Hall being so busy with weddings, she could lose the slot if she wasn’t careful.

  Peggy had fretted over Ivy’s seemingly gung-ho attitude to it all, and therefore had been amazed to discover that despite her fears, Ivy had organised everything wonderfully well – although she suspected the involvement of Doris, Rosie and Gloria had had a great deal to do with it.

  The party two nights before had been held at the Anchor, and Rosie had done Ivy proud with an excellent buffet supper and some of Gloria’s black-market gin. The reception would be at the Crown. Ron would give her away, and Rita was to be her bridesmaid. The cake, the dresses – even the train tickets and going-away outfit had been organised. And earlier that morning, Ivy had made Peggy’s day by asking her to help her get dressed. Everything was set for a wonderful day. All they needed now was the bride.

  All talk faded, the registrar looked again at his pocket-watch, and Andy was going quite green about the gills as he anxiously watched the closed doors – as if by sheer will alone he could open them and find Ivy there.

  And then the double doors slammed open and Ivy burst in, barefooted, shoes in hand, veil askew and cream lace dress rucked up at the hips. ‘Ow Gawd,’ she wailed. ‘I’m ever so sorry, Andy, but Bertie’s bleedin’ car broke down and I ’ad to run all the way ’ere.’

  The whole party collapsed into laughter, and even the po-faced registrar managed a slight twitch of his thin lips as a very embarrassed Bertie Double-Barrelled slid into one of the back rows.

  ‘Don’t yer worry, gel. I can wait as long as yer like,’ Andy replied, his face now alight with humour and relief.

  Ivy held Ron’s arm to keep her balance as she shoved on her high-heeled shoes and then fidgeted impatiently as Rita adjusted her dress and veil and tried to bring a bit more order to her hair. ‘That’s enough, Reet,’ she muttered. ‘It’s time we got on with this before my Andy decides he don’t want a bride what looks like a dog’s dinner.’

  ‘You look bloody marvellous, gel,’ called Andy from the front of the room. ‘Get yerself down ’ere before they throws us out.’

  ‘Blimey,’ giggled Ivy, taking her bouquet from Ron and putting her hand through his arm. ‘Givin’ out the orders already, eh? Have to watch that.’ She turned back to Rita who was wearing the same lovely dress she’d been given for Ruby’s wedding. ‘You ready?’ At her nod, Ivy took a deep breath. ‘Let’s get on with it then.’

  Peggy’s laughter turned to tears of love and affection as Ivy walked purposefully down the aisle towards her future husband. The pale cream lace dress was a sheath over her s
lim figure and reached to just below the knee, showing a surprisingly good pair of legs that until now had always been hidden by dungarees. Her usually tangled hair was smooth and gleaming beneath the small coronet of flowers, and the veil drifted to just beyond her narrow shoulders. She carried a spray of perfect cream roses in which nestled her mother’s brooch; on her wrist was her father’s fire-damaged watch, and the slender chain around her neck held her mother’s wedding ring.

  ‘Beautiful,’ sniffled Cordelia. ‘Who’d have thought our little Ivy could turn into such a princess?’

  Peggy smiled through her tears. All brides looked beautiful on their wedding day, even tomboys like Ivy. Her gaze drifted to Rita who’d gone to sit next to Peter as the ceremony was conducted. It would be her turn next, and she too had evolved from tomboy to beauty in the last few years – although the pair of them were still capable of getting into mischief.

  The newly-weds had said their vows and signed the book, and were now coming back down the aisle with beaming smiles. Everyone followed them out to the landing and waited at the top of the stairs as a photographer fussed about taking one picture after another. It seemed Ivy was no longer impatient or flustered, for she smiled and posed with Andy as if accustomed to all the attention, and then the couple went slowly down the sweeping staircase to the Town Hall’s front steps.

  The firemen formed a guard of honour with their fire axes and as Ivy and Andy walked between them, they were showered in confetti before being swamped by hugs and kisses from Gloria. More photographs were taken; Daisy and Paula got bored and decided to gather up the fallen confetti that now lay in drifts along the pavement and in the gutter, and Harvey bounced around in great excitement, his inquisitive nose going up skirts as his tail thudded against legs.

  ‘Right, you lot,’ shouted Gloria once the photographer had finished. ‘Let’s get on with the party.’