by Ellie Dean
Peggy saw Jane frown before she exchanged a glance with her sister and then tucked the envelopes in her handbag.
‘I feel as if I’m working for the Post Office with all the letters I’m carrying,’ Jane joked. ‘But I’ll see she gets it, Cordy.’
‘When is she due to arrive in Singapore?’ asked Peggy, stripping off her wrap-round apron and reaching for her jacket.
‘The same day as us,’ said Sarah. ‘We’ll meet at the docks if all goes well – if there’s a delay we’ve arranged to meet in the Palm Court at Raffles.’
Peggy glanced at the clock. ‘We’d better get going,’ she said tightly, determined not to let her emotions run away with her. ‘I’m sorry Charlie isn’t awake to see you off, and I can’t imagine where Danuta has got to.’
‘We said our goodbyes to both of them last night,’ said Jane, ‘so don’t fret, Aunt Peg.’
Peggy watched the flurry of hugs and kisses between Cordelia and her great-nieces, then, unable to bear the sight of Cordelia’s tears, hurried outside to where the car was parked in the cul-de-sac.
Cordelia came out onto the front steps to wave them off, her little face drawn and tear-streaked as the girls loaded their cases and climbed into the car. One last blown kiss, and promises to write, and Peggy drove away from Beach View, heading for the station, her sight blurred by her own tears. Poor Cordelia was obviously feeling bereft; she would have to keep a close eye on her from now on.
The town was deserted at this time of the morning but for the milkman’s dray which was being pulled by an enormous shire horse as it made its slow way up the empty streets. A glance in the rear-view mirror told Peggy that Jane was remembering the time she’d steered that lovely big horse through these streets on the milk round, and was glad she’d found time yesterday to go up to the dairy to say goodbye.
Turning the car into the station courtyard, she parked and switched off the engine. She’d known this day would come, but how had it arrived so quickly? Tamping down on her emotions, she climbed out and followed the girls onto the platform where the train was already drawing in.
She nodded to Stan and then drew the girls to her, kissing their cheeks and holding them close. ‘Good luck, my darlings,’ she murmured. ‘Have a safe journey, and please let me know when you’ve arrived. I’ll be on tenterhooks until I know you’ve got there all right.’
The girls hugged and kissed her one last time and then quickly boarded the train as Stan prepared to blow his whistle. Leaning out of the window, they reached for Peggy’s outstretched hands until the very last minute, and then waved just before the train rounded the curve and she lost sight of them.
Peggy burst into tears, and when she felt Stan’s sturdy arms around her, she sobbed against his broad chest.
‘There, there, Peggy, lass,’ he murmured. ‘They’ll soon be back, you’ll see.’
Feeling utterly ashamed at the way she’d let herself go, and knowing she must look ridiculous standing here in Stan’s arms, she eased herself from his embrace and mopped up her tears with some vigour. ‘I’m sick and tired of saying goodbye,’ she managed. ‘And I’ll have to do it all again in three days’ time when Rita and Peter leave.’
‘I know, lass. It’s hard for everyone, but we have to let the young ones go. It’s why we fought this war, so they could be free to get on with their lives.’ He held her arms and beamed down at her. ‘Just remember all the good times, Peg, and look forward to having your Jim home again.’
Peggy shot him a brave, tearful smile. ‘Bless you, Stan. Of course I will. Now I’d better get home. Poor Cordelia’s really cut up about the girls leaving, and Daisy will be waking up and wondering where I’ve got to.’
Sarah took Jane’s hand and held it tightly as the train huffed and puffed its way along the coast towards Southampton. Leaving Peggy, Cordelia and Beach View hadn’t been as hard or painful as leaving their parents and Philip in Singapore, but it was a close-run thing, and neither girl felt much like talking.
They’d sat with their own thoughts while the train carried them further and further away from the only home they’d known since coming to England, and as they drew nearer to the flying boat terminal, their focus became fixed on the long journey ahead of them.
‘I don’t know about you, Sarah, but I’ve got butterflies in my stomach,’ said Jane as they got their first sight of the flying boat waiting by the dock.
‘I feel the same, but I’m not sure if it’s fear or excitement. At least the plane looks nice and sturdy, so that’s quite comforting.’
The train drew to a halt at the newly built terminal, and the girls stepped down onto the platform with their cases. They looked at one another and linked hands. ‘This is it,’ breathed Sarah. ‘Are you ready?’
‘As ready as I’ll ever be,’ replied Jane. ‘Let’s get on with it.’
Almost an hour later they joined the other twelve passengers in the comfortably furnished cabin to wait nervously for the plane to take off. Within minutes, the engines spluttered into life and began to roar as the propellers turned faster and faster until they were just a blur.
Jane and Sarah clutched each other’s hands in fear and excitement as the flying boat began to glide across the water, so swiftly that great jets of water rose on both sides from beneath the broad floats. And then they were lifting into the air and soaring above the Solent and the Isle of Wight.
The girls looked at each other and breathed a sigh of relief. They were finally on their way home.
Despite her hurried departure from the station, Peggy took her time going home, not yet ready to face Cordelia or Daisy and the busy day she would have at the factory. She drove down to the seafront and parked the car, then climbed out and went to sit on one of the newly repaired benches.
Lighting a cigarette, she tried to relax and prepare herself for Cordelia’s tears, Daisy’s chattering, and the long list of things she had to do. She gazed out to the horizon where the last vestiges of the sunrise streaked the pearly sky with slashes of pink and orange which were reflected in the Channel waters. Yet despite the beauty of this early morning, the pink sky heralded rain, and as she sat there, she could smell the tang of it in the strengthening breeze that was now tugging at her hair.
It was so quiet and peaceful down here with only the gulls for company and the soft hiss of the waves breaking on the shingle, that it was tempting just to stay here and enjoy it. The enemy fighter plane had finally been removed from the rusting ribs of the pier ballroom; the bandstand gleamed with fresh paint, and the refurbished Victorian shelters along the promenade looked as good as new. Soon the council workers would come to put out the deckchairs, the café at the end of the promenade would open and the tourists would appear from their hotels and boarding houses to take their chances with the weather to sit or take a stroll.
Peggy turned to admire the beautiful carpet garden that Fred Wilson had laid as a memorial to all those who’d died when the Grand Hotel and its neighbouring boarding house had taken a direct hit. Ron and Harvey had rescued a young woman and her baby from the depths of the rubble, she remembered, but they’d been the lucky ones, for many had died on that awful night.
She finished her cigarette and stubbed it out beneath her shoe before dumping it in a nearby bin. She’d kept an eye on Fred Wilson while his wife was in hospital, and he’d coped admirably well once she’d pointed him in the right direction. Now Kate was at home and baby Evie growing stronger every day, things had settled down and they were getting on with life, so they didn’t need her popping in every day.
But because they had so many little mouths to feed, Kate would soon go back to work on a part-time basis at Solly’s Camden Road factory while the children were looked after in the crèche. Fred had been promoted to head gardener by the council, which had given him a huge confidence boost, so they wouldn’t be struggling too much over money.
Peggy glanced at her watch and was surprised to find she’d been away from home for almost an hour and a half.
She reluctantly pulled on her headscarf and hurried back to the car. The wind was quite brisk now, and she thought she’d felt a few spots of rain. It seemed that summer was drawing to a close and the breath of autumn was already in the air. The circle of life kept on turning like the seasons, and as one phase ended another began – just as she must begin again.
Arriving back at Beach View, she ran up the front steps, took a deep breath, slotted in the key and stepped into the hall, her apology for being so late dying on her lips as she saw Cordelia sitting on the chair by the telephone.
One look at her face told Peggy she was agitated and very upset. ‘Whatever’s the matter?’ she asked, hurrying to her.
‘Where on earth have you been, Peggy?’ she asked tremulously. ‘I’ve been waiting and waiting for you.’
‘I’m so sorry, Cordy. I just needed a bit of time to myself before I came back. What’s happened to get you so upset?’
‘This arrived for Sarah and Jane minutes after you left,’ she said, handing her the telegram. ‘It’s from Jim.’
Peggy’s pulse was hammering as she took it from her and swiftly read the abrupt message.
Chaos here * Vital stay England * Will inform when have news * Jim *
Peggy carefully folded the slip of paper back into the brown envelope, the guilt of having left Cordelia to worry over the telegram weighing heavy. She gently helped Cordelia to her feet and gave her a hug before steering her into the kitchen.
‘It’s too late to do anything about it now,’ she said softly. ‘But the girls are intelligent enough to realise that it’s bound to be chaotic over there.’
She settled Cordelia in her favourite armchair and briefly cupped her sweet face in her hands. ‘They know their way around Singapore, and will have Jim and their mother to look after them, so please try not to worry, Cordy.’
‘Easier said than done,’ Cordelia replied, dabbing her nose with a handkerchief. ‘I know our Jim will look after them if he can, but he’s there to do a job and simply might not be able to. From what I’ve learnt about Sybil, she’ll be as useful as a chocolate teapot, and if the Bristows’ bungalow isn’t available, heaven only knows where they’ll end up.’ She grasped Peggy’s hand. ‘We must do something, Peggy. They can’t go.’
‘I don’t really see how I can stop them,’ said Peggy. She glanced up at the clock. ‘They’ll be in Southampton by now, I should think, and about to board the plane.’
‘Then telephone the airport or whatever it is and try to get a message to them,’ Cordelia persisted.
Peggy couldn’t see what good that would do, but to appease Cordelia, she went back into the hall and lifted the telephone receiver.
‘Hello, April, dear. I wonder if you could help. I’m trying to get hold of the flying boat station at Southampton.’
‘Oh. I don’t know if I have the number for that,’ the girl replied. ‘I’ll have to put you through to directory enquiries.’
Peggy silently blessed her for not wasting time by asking questions, and stood fidgeting for what felt like ages until the operator on directory enquiries put her through. It seemed to ring for hours, but when it was finally answered, she was informed that the plane had already taken off.
‘They’ve gone, Cordy, I’m sorry,’ she said, returning to the kitchen. ‘The chap in the office said they could have relayed a message to the pilot, but only in a dire emergency situation – and as I didn’t want to cause the girls any further worry, I decided to leave things as they are.’
Cordelia gave a tremulous sigh. ‘We’ll just have to wait to hear from them, then. I’ll make a fresh pot of tea while you wake Daisy. Charlie’s up and about already, but Danuta left for work shortly after you went to the station.’
Danuta hadn’t really needed to leave so early this morning, but she wanted to get through her rounds as quickly as possible so she had time to cycle up to the Cliffe estate to see what was happening with Stanislaw. She hadn’t seen him for almost a week and he hadn’t telephoned either, so she was worried about him. He’d clearly been overdoing things, and she could only hope he hadn’t made himself ill.
She read through the list of calls she would have to make that day and then took her time to polish her bag and pack it with clean instruments and all the paraphernalia she would need, her thoughts turning to Sarah and Jane. She would miss both girls, but especially Jane, who she’d come to know very well during her time at Bletchley Park.
Jane had worked in the decoding room alongside Alan Turing, and for a time had been Danuta’s only contact with England, deciphering the messages she’d sent and passing on information and the new coded passwords that had been so vital to her survival behind enemy lines.
Of course they hadn’t been able to acknowledge one another as they would have liked – they’d both signed the Secrets Act which forbade them ever to mention the roles they’d played during the war – but they’d managed to get together in private for a few minutes at a time to reminisce about the men and women they’d worked alongside. They’d both agreed that if it hadn’t been for the genius of Turing who’d broken the Germans’ Enigma code, the world would have suffered many more years of warfare.
Jane had been introduced to that covert world through Doris’s son Anthony, who’d spotted her keen ability to solve complex mathematical problems, whereas Danuta had become involved through Ron’s contacts in the SOE. They’d both been mentored by the glamorous Dolly Cardew who’d gladly come out of retirement to pass on her expertise gained during her undercover work in the First War. Dolly had been a stalwart supporter throughout, and it had come as a shock to Danuta to discover she was Pauline Reilly’s mother, for no two women could have been more different.
Danuta finished packing her bag and carried it out to the bike shed. She grimaced as she felt the first few drops of rain splash on her face, and knew she was in for a miserable day. Perhaps she should think about asking Jack if he could get hold of a little second-hand car. With winter just around the corner, it would make life so much easier – and it wasn’t as if she couldn’t afford it. Dolly had given her fifty pounds before she’d left for America, with a note ordering her to spend it on something nice for herself.
Dumping her bag in the bicycle basket, she shrugged on her raincoat, tied a scarf over her bright red beret and set off for her first call of the day, the thought of owning a car giving her added energy as she tackled the steep hill up to Mafeking Terrace.
With ulcers bathed, newborns weighed and checked and postnatal mothers put at ease over their worries, Danuta cycled through the teeming rain to Jack’s workshop. She stepped inside and shook the rain off her coat and scarf. ‘Hello, Jack. On your own today?’
He looked up from servicing a car engine. ‘It seems that way,’ he replied. ‘You look as if you need a cuppa. Come in and sit by the heater while I put the kettle on.’
‘I am very wet,’ she agreed. ‘And a cup of tea would be most welcome.’ She dragged off her sodden scarf and beret and ruffled her fingers through her damp hair. Taking off the raincoat, she shook it vigorously and hung it up above the heater to dry out before perching on an upturned crate.
Jack handed her a mug of tea. ‘Get that down you before you catch your death of cold,’ he said, sitting on a nearby oil-drum with his own grubby mug. ‘So, Danuta, what can I do for you today?’
‘I have come to ask about buying a small car. It will not be new, of course, but it must be reliable because I have to use it for my work.’
‘I might have something coming in at the end of next week,’ he replied, eyeing her over the lip of his mug of tea. ‘How much were you thinking of paying?’
Danuta smiled at him. ‘That depends on how much you are asking, and if the car is worth it.’
Jack chuckled. ‘There’s no flies on you, are there, girl?’
Danuta frowned in confusion. ‘I have no flies. They do not come out in the rain.’
Jack tipped back his head and laughed. ‘You’re right,’ he sp
luttered eventually. ‘It’s too cold and wet for flies.’ He looked at her fondly. ‘I’ll see what I can do about a car,’ he said. ‘Can’t have you out in all weathers. But they’re pricey, Danuta, and then there’s the running cost and insurance.’
‘How much is new car?’ she asked solemnly.
‘Over three hundred quid,’ he replied, ‘but I can probably find a little second-hand one under the hundred.’
‘Oh, I see.’ Her spirits plummeted. ‘And what could I get for fifty pounds?’
She saw Jack bite back a quick answer, and, crestfallen, had to accept she was nowhere near being able to afford such a luxurious thing as a car.
He must have seen her disappointment, for he patted her shoulder and shot her an encouraging smile. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything, love. Fifty quid doesn’t go very far these days when it comes to motors – but we could get lucky.’
She nodded gratefully and drank the last of her tea. ‘I will keep my fingers crossed, Jack. Now I must go to Memorial Hospital to see Stanislaw. He is not well, I think, and I worry for him.’
Jack eyed the rain that was pelting down, and tossed the remains of his tea out into the nearby drain. ‘I’ll take you up there in the truck,’ he said. ‘Can’t have you pedalling all that way in this.’ Without waiting for a reply, he handed her the medical bag and hoisted her bike into the flatbed.
Danuta dragged on her coat, beret and scarf, and once Jack had locked the workshop door, quickly hopped into the cab, so grateful she could have hugged him – but of course she didn’t, for it would have embarrassed both of them.
The journey took no time at all, and soon he was pulling up at the bottom of the front steps. She jumped out and ran for cover beneath the portico as he unloaded the bike and brought it to her. ‘If you want a lift back, give me a ring,’ he said, handing her a business card. ‘I’m in the workshop all day.’