by Ellie Dean
Peggy had known Jack all her life; had comforted him when Rita’s mother had died, and done all she could to help as he struggled alone to raise his young daughter. To see him now caused a confusion of emotions, for although she was delighted that he and Rita could snatch a precious couple of hours together after being apart for so long, she felt a jolt of dread. It was clear that Jack’s time working as a mechanic in the army motor repair shops in the Midlands was over, and that, like Brendon, he would soon be involved in the promised invasion.
She kissed his cheek and gave him a gentle nudge. ‘Don’t waste precious time hanging about here with us,’ she said. ‘Rita was heading for the fire station as we came to see Brendon off, so you should find her there.’
Jack didn’t budge, his expression anxious. ‘How’s my girl really doing, Peg? Her letters don’t tell me much. Is she coping – after Matthew?’
‘Oh, Jack,’ Peggy sighed. ‘She’s doing as well as she can. Matthew was such a lovely, sweet boy, and his death came as a terrible shock to all of us. Seeing you will help no end, so get down there and find her.’
He hitched his kitbag over his shoulder and ran down the hill, his heavy boots echoing in the stillness of the damp and dreary morning.
Turning to Ron, Peggy plastered on a smile. ‘What a lovely surprise for Rita,’ she said shakily, ‘and how thoughtful of his commanding officer to give him permission to stop off. It’s good to know there is still kindness in this troubled world.’
Ron stood back and smiled down at her as he handed over the umbrella. ‘And now let’s hope that kindness is shining down on me today. I’m off to see Rosie. Wish me luck.’
She nodded and watched him hurry away with Harvey, as always, at his side. He’d need a heavy dose of luck – but Rosie always forgave him, and he’d no doubt come bouncing back home later, full of the joys of spring.
‘I’m taking Pauline home,’ said a drawn and sad-eyed Frank. ‘Thanks for putting up with me last night.’
‘That’s all right,’ Peggy replied softly. ‘It was quite like old times, and certainly gave us all something to laugh about – which has to be good in the circumstances.’
As they left the station and went their separate ways, the stresses and strains of the past years began to tell on Peggy, and she decided to go to the little church that overlooked the sea to the east of the town. It was peaceful there and she needed a few quiet moments to pray for the boys and girls who were risking their lives so their country could be free – and to gather her senses so she could face the coming hours and days with strength of purpose to keep the home fires burning and everyone’s spirits high.
Ron straightened his tie which threatened to strangle him, brushed the damp from his greatcoat and smoothed back his hair. Taking a deep breath, he walked purposefully up the alleyway to the side door of the Anchor. Deciding it might be best if he knocked first instead of just waltzing in as usual, he ordered Harvey to shake himself dry, for Rosie wouldn’t appreciate him doing it indoors.
He rapped on the heavy oak door and waited. But there were no answering footsteps on the other side. He frowned and shot a questioning look at Harvey, who whined as he put his front paws against the door and began to scrabble with his claws.
Ron’s apprehension rose as he knocked again, waited impatiently for half a minute and then reached for the doorknob. Rosie had locked the door. He stood and stared at it as if by sheer will he could force it open. There were several explanations as to why it was locked; Rosie might still be in bed; she could be busy in the bar getting ready for the lunchtime session; or she could be out walking Monty. Or – and this sent a shiver through him – she was in there and refusing to see him.
He left Harvey whining and scrabbling at the back gate and strode out of the alley to peer into the windows, but was frustrated by the closed shutters and blackout curtains. He stepped back into the street and looked up at her windows, saw that she’d opened the curtains up there, and wondered if she was hiding from him. Looking round, he managed to find a couple of bits of loose grit on the pavement and threw them at her sitting-room window.
‘Rosie,’ he called. ‘Rosie, I know you’re there. Stop messing about and let me in.’
‘You’re wasting your time, Ron. She’s gone out.’
Ron swung round to face his old friend Sergeant Williams, the local policeman. ‘Where is she, Bert? I need to see her.’
Sergeant Albert Williams was the same age as Ron and a fellow survivor of the Somme. He would have retired if it hadn’t been for the war commandeering all the younger men, but he enjoyed his job and it kept him out of the house and from under his rather bossy wife’s feet. He was a large man with a ruddy face, a kindly disposition unless roused, and a penchant for a drop of whisky should it be offered in return for a blind eye being turned to one of Ron’s minor law infringements.
‘I heard about your run-in with Gloria yesterday,’ he said, rocking back and forth in his size twelve boots.
Ron gulped. If Bert knew about that, then probably Rosie did too – which meant he really was in very deep trouble.
‘Are you sure Rosie will want to see you after that awful caterwauling?’
Ron stared at him in astonishment. ‘How the hell do you know about that?’
Bert tapped the side of his bulbous nose. ‘People think I don’t know half of what goes on in this town, but they’d be surprised at how much I hear and see. I turn a blind eye when things aren’t serious, as you know, and although you were in danger of disturbing the peace last night, I thought Rosie’s punishment was severe enough to let you off a night in the cells.’
‘So where’s Rosie gone at this time of the morning?’ Ron demanded.
‘She’s walking Monty down on the promenade.’ He grabbed Ron’s arm as he was about to dash off. ‘But she’s not alone, Ron.’
Startled, Ron looked back at him. ‘Who’s she with?’
Bert pursed his lips, clearly working out how best to reply. ‘Let’s just say she’s with the same chap who took her to lunch yesterday at the Officers’ Club,’ he said reluctantly.
Ron could feel the colour drain from his face, and he staggered a bit before he regained his senses. ‘Chap? What chap? Come on, Bert, spit it out.’
Bert’s meaty hand rested on Ron’s shoulder. ‘I’m sorry, old chum. I thought you must have known, seeing as Cordelia and Bertie were in the club at the time.’
‘Cordelia said nothing about it. Who is this man taking my girl out to lunch?’ snarled Ron. ‘I’ll soon settle his hash.’
Bert’s expression hardened. ‘Now, you just hold on there, Ron. There’s no profit in going off like a loose cannon before you know all the facts. I’m sure there’s nothing in it – and besides, you can hardly go round starting fights with one-armed war heroes.’
‘The Major?’ gasped Ron. ‘My Rosie’s been seeing Major Radwell?’ Rage infused his face. ‘How long has that been going on?’
The other man shrugged. ‘I have no idea. They haven’t been seen together outside the Anchor before yesterday.’ The heavy hand again pressed down on Ron’s shoulder. ‘Look, I’m sorry, old pal, but you must see that a good-looking woman like Rosie is bound to have her admirers. Perhaps she only went out with him because she wanted to get her own back on you seeing Gloria yesterday.’
‘I did not go to the Crown to see Gloria,’ Ron protested. ‘I was there drinking with Frank and the boy.’
‘Aye, that might be the case, but gossip has it you and Gloria were sparking like fireworks.’ Bert leant closer. ‘We both know there’s no love lost between Gloria and Rosie, and the very fact you were in there would be enough to cause trouble. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, Ron. You should know that by now.’
‘That’s not Rosie’s way,’ Ron muttered, although he was beginning to have his doubts. ‘If she had something to say she’d come out with it straight – not go off with another man behind me back.’
He could see from Bert’s expressio
n that he wasn’t convinced. Heaving a sigh, he shook his head. ‘I rather liked Major Radwell. Thought he was a decent sort. It goes to show how wrong I was, doesn’t it?’
‘Don’t jump to conclusions, Ron,’ the other man cautioned. ‘It’s never wise and often makes things worse.’
‘I suppose I’d best go home then,’ Ron mumbled.
‘See that you do,’ warned Bert. ‘I don’t want to hear there’ve been fisticuffs between you and the Major.’
‘You and Rosie might not think much of me at the moment, but I’d never stoop that low,’ Ron said bitterly.
‘I know you wouldn’t dream of it usually, Ron. But when matters of the heart are involved, common sense flies out of the window.’
‘To be sure, Bert, I’m thinking if I had an ounce of sense I’d not be in this predicament now.’ Ron shook his head dolefully and then brightened with hope. ‘I don’t suppose anyone’s reported seeing two ferrets, have they?’
‘Sorry, Ron. I’d have told you if they had.’ He looked suitably sympathetic. ‘It seems you’re having a rather bad day, old chum.’
‘You can say that again,’ muttered Ron.
He dragged a reluctant Harvey out of the alleyway and headed back towards Beach View, aware that his old pal was watching his every move. Yet, as he reached the junction, he couldn’t resist looking down towards the seafront – and saw Rosie walking up the steep hill with Monty and the Major.
Slipping into the deep shadows of the bombed-out house on the corner, he stilled Harvey and held tightly to his collar to stop him rushing off to greet his pup.
Rosie was laughing at something the Major was saying as they ambled along arm in arm, seemingly oblivious to the damp drizzle that was dripping from the umbrella he was holding over her.
Ron eyed the Major, hating to admit that he was a good-looking man despite having lost most of one arm, and although he had to be several years younger than Rosie, they made a handsome couple. He grimaced at how at ease they seemed to be as they slowly approached Camden Road and finally turned down towards the Anchor.
Ron pulled up his coat collar and shivered as he watched them go into the side alley. What the hell were they both doing out this early? Had there been more than lunch involved, or was this a chance meeting and the Major was merely escorting her home before he went on his way?
Ron bunched his fists, the jealousy burning in him when he saw a light go on in Rosie’s sitting room. He could see her at the window, chattering and smiling over her shoulder before pulling the curtains against the dreary day and effectually shutting Ron out.
He stood there in the damp chill trying to decide what to do as the foghorn mournfully moaned its offshore warning. He could march over there and demand an explanation – or let himself in as usual and feign surprise at catching them together and wait to see what they had to say for themselves. Or he could just storm in there and punch the Major on the nose.
The latter wasn’t really an option, even though it might give him a fleeting satisfaction – for Rosie would never speak to him again and he’d feel an utter heel at doing such a thing to a man who’d sacrificed so much for his country. Yet Radwell had a flaming cheek, chatting up his girl and treating her to posh lunches. Hero or not, Ron would see to it that he’d get his comeuppance one way or another.
Ron chewed his lip and came to a decision. ‘Come on, Harvey, it’s time to get out of this finery and go for a proper walk so I can think. I’ll get to the bottom of what’s going on – but play it clever and not go in all guns blazing like she’d expect.’
Harvey looked up at him, his head cocked to one side, his eyes puzzled. His beloved human was clearly worried about something, and although he had a fair idea what it was, it seemed he didn’t want his help in solving the problem – which he could if only Ron paid proper attention to him.
Harvey looked back at the Anchor and, with a snort of disgust, trotted after Ron in the hope they might be going home for a second breakfast and a good rub-down with a towel.
7
Peggy’s spirits had been lifted somewhat by her visit to the church on the hill, but when she arrived back at Beach View it was to discover that Cordelia and Ivy were looking after Daisy, and there was no sign of anyone else.
‘It’s been all go here this morning,’ said Cordelia once she was satisfied that Brendon had left without too much hullabaloo from Pauline. ‘Ron came home in a foul mood, which doesn’t bode well as far as he and Rosie are concerned – but he refused to tell me anything, just got changed into his usual disreputable old clothes and went out again.’
‘Where’s Sarah?’ asked Peggy, reaching for the teapot. ‘She was supposed to stay here and help you with Daisy.’
Cordelia gave a shrug. ‘Ivy and I can manage perfectly well,’ she said briskly. She finished wiping Daisy’s sticky mouth with a damp flannel, and the child rushed off to help Ivy finish the big wooden jigsaw Ron had made her for Christmas.
‘That’s not the point, Cordelia,’ said Peggy. ‘She said she’d be here.’
‘I know, but she got a telephone call shortly after you’d all left. It seems she’d forgotten she was supposed to be meeting one of her friends for a day out. And with so little time for fun, I could hardly stop her, could I?’
‘I suppose not,’ muttered Peggy, wondering if Sarah might be avoiding Beach View, for it was unlike the girl to forget anything – least of all a planned day out.
Ivy put the last piece of the jigsaw in place and then pushed back her chair. ‘Andy come in earlier to tell me ’e got tickets for the pictures this afternoon. So if you don’t mind, Aunt Peg, I’ll go up and get changed. We’re having a bit of lunch at the British Restaurant first, and if I don’t get a wiggle on, I’ll be late.’
‘Of course not,’ said Peggy. ‘You go and enjoy yourself, and thanks for staying to help with Daisy.’
‘It’s no bother,’ said Ivy cheerfully before running out of the room and up the stairs.
‘At least someone’s happy,’ said Cordelia. ‘But I’m worried about Rita. She and Jack popped in, just before they went back to the station for Jack to catch his train. It was plain to see Rita was thrilled to have a few hours with her dad, but was dreading saying goodbye again. And with everything that’s happened recently …’ Cordelia trailed off. ‘Anyway, I haven’t seen her since.’ She gave a worried sigh. ‘It’s all so very unsettling, this coming and going, and I dread to think what will happen in the next few weeks. All those young men, the fathers, brothers and sons …’
Peggy put her arms around the elderly woman and held her close. ‘Please don’t, Cordy,’ she murmured, ‘I can’t bear to see you upset.’
‘I’m getting too old for all this uncertainty,’ Cordelia replied, dabbing her eyes with her handkerchief. ‘Brendon leaving this morning brought it all home again. I’ve been thinking about my brother’s boy Jock out in Singapore, and Martin, Roger and Freddy in that camp, and Jim and Brendon. Now Jack’s caught up in it too. When will it all end, Peggy?’
‘I don’t know,’ she replied helplessly.
Peggy looked down at Daisy who was clinging to her legs, her little face puckered with concern for Cordelia. Fixing a smile firmly in place, she put her hand on Daisy’s shining black curls and said brightly, ‘Chloe will be here soon. How about you find your favourite picture book so you can show her your lovely colouring in?’
Daisy happily trotted off to the toy box in the dining room.
‘It’s my nephew Jock and Sarah’s fiancé Philip who worry me the most,’ Cordelia confided. ‘I don’t know how Sarah and Jane are managing to cope with the lack of any real information coming out of the Far East, and the terrible rumours do nothing to assuage the awful fear that they might be dead.’
Peggy had heard those rumours too, and she shivered at the thought of what might happen to Jim if he was taken prisoner in Burma. She kissed Cordelia’s soft cheek. ‘We’ll get through this together,’ she murmured. ‘And when it’s all over, w
e’ll be stronger and braver and ready to face any struggles that might come with peace.’
The solemn moment was broken by Ivy rushing through the kitchen on the way to meet her Andy, and Daisy toddling in with her colouring book.
Yet, as the day continued, Peggy couldn’t quite dispel the feeling that something momentous, a turning point in this dreadful war, was in the offing, and it would affect them all. She could only pray it would be to the Allies’ advantage.
Despite the awful weather and Peggy’s worry over where Rita and Sarah might have got to, her mood had been lifted after lunch by the arrival of Kitty, Charlotte, Grace and little Chloe. As the children played and squabbled, the women had sat down to catch up on things, discuss plans for the babies’ arrival, and the possibility that at least Charlotte’s mother might be able to get down when the time came. They swapped knitting patterns and cooed over the matinee jackets and bootees Peggy had kept once Daisy had grown out of them while they ate Kitty’s delicious cake over numerous cups of tea.
Peggy had just regaled them with the events of the previous day when Ron returned looking very purposeful. He glared at the laughing women, grunted something unintelligible in response to their teasing, and shot back down to his basement bedroom.
Harvey was soaked through and slumped down by the fire with a deep sigh to quietly steam dry and fill the room with the less than delightful pong of damp dog.
‘Poor old boy,’ said Peggy, reaching for a scrap of towel to dry him off. ‘You’ve been out all day and must be exhausted.’
Harvey’s eyes were beseeching as he rolled on his back for her to rub his tummy, and then went to sit by his empty bowl.
Peggy took the hint and scraped some of the leftovers into it, before putting the kettle back on for another pot of tea.
Harvey made short work of the scraps and then collapsed by the fire again, nose on paws as Queenie curled up against his belly.