With Hope and Love

by Ellie Dean

  ‘God forbid,’ breathed Anne, horrified by the thought of her little brother going to war – or the idea that there could ever be another.

  She saw that they were turning slowly off the main line to the spur which would take them into Cliffehaven, so she gathered up the books and dolls and stuffed them into her large shopping bag. ‘Stir your stumps, Charlie. We’re almost there.’

  Peggy could barely contain her fury at Martin’s absence at the station, but when she saw the train slowly come round the bend, excitement took over. She walked down the platform, looking in every carriage window as the train slowly and rather majestically drew to a halt at the buffers with a snort of steam and smoke.

  She peered through the foggy, sooty swirl as carriage doors opened, and Stan bustled down the platform with Ron to collect the luggage from the guard’s van. And then Anne emerged from the thick haze with Emily on her hip and Rose clinging to her hand.

  Peggy burst into tears and ran to them with open arms. ‘Oh, my darlings, welcome home.’ She kissed Anne and tearfully smiled as Emily shyly buried her face in Anne’s neck, and then bent down to kiss Rose’s soft cheek. ‘Hello, darling,’ she murmured. ‘Remember me? I’m your grandma.’

  The little girl shook her head and plugged her thumb into her mouth as she leaned against Anne’s leg.

  ‘Never mind,’ said Peggy, swallowing her disappointment. ‘We’ll get to know each other soon enough. And look,’ she said to Rose, drawing Daisy to her side. ‘This is your niece, Daisy, and I just know you’re going to have a lot of fun together.’

  The little girls eyed one another warily for there were only months between them, and then Daisy put her arms around Rose and gave her a rough hug. ‘I got lots of toys,’ she said in her piping voice. ‘You can play with them if you like.’

  Peggy met Anne’s gaze as Daisy continued to chatter on nineteen to the dozen and Rose slowly lost her shyness. ‘They’ll be fine,’ said Peggy. ‘But where’s Charlie got to? Surely you didn’t have to leave him behind?’

  ‘He’s helping Stan and Grandad with the luggage,’ replied Anne, peering over her shoulder in search of Martin.

  Peggy looked down the platform and stared in disbelief at the sturdy, dark-haired youth who was hoisting bulky cases and bags onto the trolley as if they weighed nothing. He was almost six feet tall and had the striking good looks and strong build of all the Reilly men. ‘That can’t possibly be my little Charlie,’ she gasped.

  ‘I’m afraid it is,’ said Anne, ‘and I had a devilish job of getting him here, so don’t be fooled by his size; he can still act like a four-year-old at times.’ Her face showed her bitter disappointment at Martin’s absence as she put her free arm around Peggy and held her close with Emily between them. ‘It’s good to be home again, Mum,’ she murmured. ‘I’m sorry it’s taken so long.’

  ‘And I’m sorry Martin wasn’t here to meet you,’ said Peggy. ‘I don’t know what’s got into him. He was fine about things this morning and looking forward to having you all home.’

  ‘Was he? Really?’ asked Anne. ‘It feels to me as if he doesn’t care about us at all.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s not true,’ Peggy replied, determinedly drying her tears as Anne was bombarded with hugs and kisses from Cordelia and Ron, whilst trying to fend off an over-excited Harvey, who’d been dashing back and forth not knowing who to greet first.

  She watched him charge back to Charlie, who got down on one knee to make a fuss of him, and caught her son’s eye as he looked back at her over the dog’s head. Slowly walking towards this tall stranger who bore little resemblance to the nine-year-old boy she’d last seen, Peggy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  ‘Hello, Mum,’ he said, getting to his feet so he towered over her. He shot her a bashful grin. ‘I’d forgotten how small you are.’

  Peggy giggled. ‘I’ve always been this size,’ she managed. ‘It’s you who’s grown so tall and strapping,’ she teased. ‘Vi clearly fed you well in Somerset.’

  As he shifted from one foot to another, she looked up into bright blue eyes, noted the lock of dark hair falling over his forehead just as his father’s had done and felt her heart melt. He was the spitting image of Jim. ‘Are you too grown-up for a hug from your mother?’ she asked, not wanting to embarrass him by throwing her arms around him.

  He shook his head and shyly gathered her to him in a swift, hard hug and then released her. ‘I’ve got to help Grandad get the bags and things loaded into the cars,’ he mumbled before hurrying off.

  Peggy followed his progress down the platform and immediately began to fret that perhaps she should have set him up in the big room and not the basement. He was clearly no longer a little boy, but on the very cusp of manhood, and the toys she’d put out would be laughably inadequate. With a tremulous sigh she went to join the others.

  The two cars formed a convoy and took the long route home, down the High Street and along the seafront, so Anne and Charlie could get their bearings and see the changes in the town. It soon became apparent to them both that Cliffehaven hadn’t escaped from the war, for there were signs everywhere of the damage – some of it dangerously close to Beach View.

  They finally drew to a halt outside the front of Beach View, and Anne noted sadly that there was no sign of Martin waiting for them on the steps. He clearly had no intention of welcoming them home. Whilst the men saw to the luggage, Anne climbed out of the car with the girls and looked up at the house that had been her home for most of her life. She noted the scars left in the brickwork by shrapnel and bullets; the missing lanterns that had once graced the plinths at the bottom of the steps; and the weed-filled rubble at the end of the cul-de-sac which had been someone’s home.

  She’d seen the bomb site two streets away and shuddered to think how close her mother and little sister Daisy had come to being obliterated by that V-2, and now she realised with shame how little thought she’d really given to the terrors her mother must have gone through these past few years. But then Peggy’s letters had lightly skimmed over the reality of her war, and were filled instead with local gossip and the adventures of her evacuees.

  Feeling sick at heart over Martin’s lack of care, Anne followed her mother into the hall and set Emily down so she could run about with Daisy and Rose who seemed to have become best friends. Noticing the tired woodwork and scuffed wallpaper, she realised very little had been done to the house since she’d left, but the innovation of the stairlift was quite marvellous.

  ‘I’m taking the girls for a ride,’ chirped Cordelia, her little face flushed with pleasure. She plonked down into the chair and strapped herself in. ‘Pass me Emily first,’ she ordered Anne.

  Anne hesitated, but a nod from Peggy told her it would be quite safe, so she placed Emily on Cordelia’s lap.

  ‘Thank you, dear,’ she said briskly, clasping the child to her as she lowered the lever and set the chair going slowly up the stairs.

  Emily clapped her little hands, squealed in delight and begged for more as they descended back to the hall.

  Cordelia handed the protesting child back to Anne and did the whole thing again with Rose – and then with Daisy. ‘That’s enough,’ she declared. ‘I need a cup of tea – or a nice glass of sherry if you’ve got any, Anne,’ she added hopefully.

  ‘Sorry, Grandma Cordy. I didn’t pack any.’

  ‘Oh, well,’ she sighed. ‘Tea it will have to be then. Come along, girls. Let’s find a nice biscuit.’

  Charlie brought in the last of the large cases and dumped them down in the hall as the others drifted into the kitchen. ‘Who is that old woman?’ he whispered to Anne. ‘She’s not really our grandma, is she?’

  Anne shook her head. ‘That’s Cordelia,’ she whispered back. ‘Surely you must remember her reading you bedtime stories, and helping with your homework?’

  ‘I do remember someone,’ he murmured, ‘but …’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘It’s all a muddle, Anne,’ he confessed. ‘Everything looks smaller and ol
der than I remember – even Grandad.’

  ‘That’s because you’re bigger and don’t see things in the way the little boy you were when you left here did,’ she replied gently. ‘And of course everyone’s older. You’ve been away for six years and all of us have changed.’ She reached up to push the lock of hair out of his eyes. ‘Especially you. Now let’s have that tea and start settling in.’

  Charlie felt adrift as he sat and listened to the chatter going on around the table while the three little girls played on the rug with Harvey who didn’t seem to mind them dressing him up in doll’s blankets and bonnets. He’d been introduced to Jane and Sarah who looked very sophisticated and made him feel awkward, but Danuta seemed all right, even though she spoke in the same funny way as Claus. He vaguely wondered if she was German too, but when she started talking about going back to Poland, he realised his mistake.

  He surreptitiously looked around the shabby kitchen, remembering it well, right down to the Kitchener range in the chimney breast and the dresser strewn with all sorts of discarded letters and bits and bobs. It was a far cry from Auntie Vi’s spacious farmhouse kitchen with its large scrubbed pine table, vast dressers and tiled floor, but it felt the same – homely and welcoming.

  He watched his mother who was in animated conversation with Anne and wondered where all her softness had gone, for he remembered snuggling up to her as a little boy and nestling his head in her pillowy chest. Now she looked thin and very small, and he could only suppose the strict rationing must have been the cause.

  Auntie Vi had warned him about the lack of milk, eggs, honey and butter he’d find here, and in that moment, he wished he’d thought to bring some to help feed his mother up. Auntie Vi was very hot on feeding people and provided lashings of everything. He would miss Vi, and suspected he’d have to get used to smaller portions from now on.

  His gaze moved on around the table to be met by his grandfather’s. Ron winked at him and Charlie winked back. Ron hadn’t really changed except his hair was tidy and laced with silver, but he still wore old trousers tied at the waist with garden twine and a jumper that had more holes in it than a colander – and that ancient, smelly old poacher’s coat was still in evidence.

  Charlie was glad he was the same, and just as robust as he remembered, and was impatient to go onto the hills with him and Harvey again, and perhaps even go down to the beach beneath the cliffs to inspect Uncle Frank’s marvellous new fishing boats that he’d seen moored there. The summer holidays stretched before him with all sorts of glorious possibilities, and he firmly ignored the dark clouds that waited for him when it was time to return to school, because he would have to get used to a new one that in all probability didn’t have a rugby team. Thinking of the loss of his hard-won place in the Somerset County junior fifteen took the shine off his summer plans, and he pushed back from the table, making the chair scrape against the worn linoleum. ‘Am I still in the same bedroom?’ he asked Peggy abruptly.

  ‘I’ve put you in Ron’s old room,’ she replied, suddenly looking flustered. ‘I hope it will be all right.’

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ he replied shortly.

  Collecting his bags from the hall, he felt the curious eyes follow him in the enveloping silence as he stomped back through the kitchen and down the concrete steps, slamming the kitchen door behind him. Stepping into the room he closed that door too, dropped his bags on the floor and stared at the toys on the end of the bed.

  His mother clearly thought he was still a kid, for what on earth could he possibly want with these old things? His interest was piqued by the train set which he remembered very well, but he gathered everything else up and dumped it all in the bottom of the wardrobe.

  Charlie slumped down onto the bed and sadly regarded the bare, impersonal room before nudging the boxed train set away. He felt a tightness in his chest and the unfamiliar sense of loss and despair. An overwhelming wave of longing swept over him and a tear rolled down his cheek to be angrily brushed away. He wanted to be back in his comfortable bedroom at Owlet Farm, and to be with lovely Auntie Vi, for he missed her dreadfully. He also missed his friends and the other boys in the rugby team, and wondered if they’d already forgotten him.

  Charlie curled up on the bed and buried his face in the pillow so they couldn’t hear him crying.

  ‘I should go down and see if he’s all right,’ said Peggy fretfully.

  ‘Leave the boy be,’ rumbled Ron. ‘I’ll take him out with the dogs after tea and he’ll feel better for a long walk. The lad has a lot to contend with, and he’ll deal with it all in his own time without you fussing over him.’

  ‘I think I’ll go and freshen up,’ said Anne, who thought her grandfather’s advice was wise. ‘I’ll take up the children’s things with me; the rest can stay in the hall until after tea.’

  ‘Do you want a hand?’ asked Peggy.

  Anne shook her head. ‘I can manage.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ Peggy asked. ‘Only I know how disappointed and hurt you must be that Martin isn’t here.’

  Ignoring the pain in her heart, Anne gave her mother a hug. ‘It’s something I’ve become used to, Mum. I’m fine – really I am.’

  She left the kitchen and slowly went up the stairs until she reached the top floor. Charlie was miserably homesick, she could tell, and she could sympathise with him. But despite her brave words to her mother, she was feeling utterly betrayed. The fact that Martin hadn’t come to the station or been at the house to welcome her and the girls had hurt her profoundly, and the disappointment lay heavy in her heart. Their time apart had evidently not changed a thing – and after his no-show today, it was doubtful they could come back from this and rebuild their marriage.

  She walked along the landing and came to the bedroom door. Hesitating, she wondered if he’d come home at all tonight – and if he did, would she be able to hold back the hurt, and climb into bed with him as if everything was all right between them? She very much doubted it, for he’d gone too far this time and she was hurting too much to forgive him.

  Pushing the door open, she lugged the case inside and then dropped it in shock as she saw Martin rise from the fireside chair. He looked well enough, she noted distractedly, certainly better than when he’d left Somerset. ‘What are you doing up here?’ she managed.

  ‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ he replied, coming towards her with his arms open to hug her.

  She edged away, unwilling to be held. ‘You should have met me at the station,’ she said flatly. ‘Not hidden away up here without telling anyone.’

  He let his arms hang by his sides as he dipped his chin. ‘I didn’t want to go to the station. There would have been too many people and too much noise.’

  ‘Then you should have waited downstairs for when we came home,’ she retorted.

  ‘I didn’t want to welcome you in front of an audience,’ he admitted softly. ‘I really thought you’d prefer our reunion to take place in private.’

  ‘But it wouldn’t have been, would it?’ she snapped. ‘Grandad could have been bringing up the cases for all you knew, or Mum might have come with me and brought the girls. Whatever would they have thought to find you lurking up here when everyone assumed you were out?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied, rubbing his forehead and looking distraught. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’

  Anne was tired and not in the mood to appease him. She folded her arms and glared. ‘Well, it’s obvious you’ve given a lot of thought as to what you want, Martin, but there seems to have been precious little consideration for me. I really believed you’d be at the station – or at least here to welcome us home – instead of which you chose to hide up here and wait for me to come to you. Well, it just isn’t good enough.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Anne,’ he said. ‘You’re right. I didn’t think it through properly, and I can’t bear to see you upset.’ He tentatively reached for her hand. ‘Please say you’ll forgive me.’

  Anne’s fury and hur
t could not be swept away by the sorrowful look in his eyes, and she edged back from him. ‘Do you realise how disappointed and hurt I was by what you did? Can you even begin to imagine how it was for me and the girls when you didn’t show at the station? I’ve been waiting for today with such eagerness and hope that this might be the start of us repairing our marriage – but it felt as if you didn’t care about us at all.’

  ‘Oh, Anne, I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘Please don’t cry. I can see that it was selfish and thoughtless of me, and I didn’t mean to hurt you, really I didn’t.’

  Anne could see that he was deeply touched by her reaction and in a quandary as to what to do about it. In that moment she realised their situation had been immensely difficult for both of them, and in their own way each of them was struggling to find a solution. Being bitter wasn’t going to help ease anything, and the thought of not finding a way through this was unbearable. They would both have to be patient – her especially – and now it was up to her to take that first step towards repairing the damage caused by the war.

  She took his hand and stepped into his embrace. ‘Of course I forgive you,’ she said against his chest. ‘How can I not when I love you so?’

  26

  Upon entering the Club, Doris had spotted John and Michael sitting in the bar, and immediately sensed something was wrong. Neither man looked at ease, and the short exchange they were having appeared to be quite hostile. She’d hesitated in the doorway, unsure of what to do, but then John had seen her, and the angry lines in his face smoothed out into a warm smile.

  It had been an awkward and embarrassing lunch, despite John doing his best to be solicitous to Doris and keep up a conversation with Anthony whilst virtually ignoring Michael who ate in brooding silence and then, very rudely, lit a cigarette before everyone had finished dessert.

  Doris had been uncomfortably aware of Michael watching her throughout, his gaze quizzical and faintly resentful, so the end of the meal had come as a huge relief. She had no idea what Anthony must be thinking, but she could see from his expression that he hadn’t taken to Michael at all. There had been plans for them to remain at the Club to take coffee in the lounge, and Doris had been dreading the ordeal dragging on. She could see Anthony was just as reluctant to carry on with this farce, and she’d been on the point of asking him to take her home when Michael abruptly announced his immediate departure.