With a Kiss and a Prayer (The Cliffehaven Series)

by Ellie Dean

  ‘I’d certainly get the truth out of her, which is more than I can say for Ethel,’ said Peggy. ‘She wouldn’t know the truth if it bit her – and if she did see Rosie with the Major that morning, why is she keeping it to herself? She must know Ron would be fretting – and yet she’s said nothing, not even to Stan.’

  ‘Perhaps she has something to hide,’ said Dolly.

  ‘If that’s the case, why tell Olive when she knows that woman can’t keep anything to herself?’

  Dolly took a deep breath and then expelled it. ‘I have no idea,’ she admitted. ‘But if Ron does get to hear about this, both she and Olive will find they’re on dangerous ground.’ She regarded the sea which had become choppier as the day had progressed, and was now splashing with greater vigour against the tank traps and the shingle beach.

  ‘This has to be cleared up quickly before the gossip spreads and things turn nasty,’ she said decisively. ‘And the only way to do that is to talk to Doris.’

  Peggy looked once again at her sleeping child and knew she had neither the energy nor the will to go toe to toe with her domineering sister tonight. ‘I’ll make time tomorrow morning when I can be sure she’s in,’ she said reluctantly.

  Dolly nodded and switched the engine back on. ‘If you don’t get any joy from her, I’ll have a word with Stan. I’ve never met this new wife of his, but by the sound of it, she’s trouble. Perhaps he can persuade her to tell the truth and shed some light on what’s really going on here – because I don’t believe Rosie has left Ron in the lurch for another man.’

  Peggy had to smile at Dolly’s fierce defence. It was clear her friend had a huge affection for Ron and Rosie, and was determined to get to the bottom of things. ‘I’m so glad Ron’s got you on his side,’ she said fondly. ‘Was there ever a time when you might have been tempted to …?’

  Dolly laughed. ‘He might have the same twinkling eyes and the soft Irish brogue that drew you to your scallywag Jim, but there was never anything like that between us. I’ve loved him like a big brother since I was a girl, admired his skills, his mind and his courage – but he would never have fitted into my world, nor I into his.’

  Peggy thought she heard a note of wistfulness in her voice, but made no comment on it as Dolly drove up the hill towards Beach View.

  After kissing and hugging Peggy goodbye, Dolly drove back to the seafront and headed towards Havelock Road. She stopped by the little park which had now been turned into an allotment and switched off the engine before lighting another cigarette and letting her thoughts wander.

  Havelock Road was considered to be one of the smarter areas of Cliffehaven, and Doris had moved into the large detached house with Ted on their wedding day over thirty years before. It still looked quite grand, she noted, but the signs of war were here too, in the massive guns positioned on the hill above the end of the cul-de-sac, the two empty plots filled with the rubble of what had once been fine houses, and the overgrown gardens and cracked pavements.

  Dolly had met Doris and Ted on several occasions, and had never quite come to terms with the fact that Doris and Peggy were sisters, for they were chalk and cheese, and clearly rubbed each other up the wrong way.

  Ted Williams had always struck her as a diffident man, cowed by his bossy wife who seemed to think his skills on the stock market gave her the right to demand whatever she needed in her quest to climb the social ladder – so it had come as a tremendous surprise to hear that he’d been having an affair for several years, and somehow found the courage to leave Doris and demand a divorce.

  Dolly smiled, remembering how she’d cheered when she’d received Peggy’s letter telling her about it. She hadn’t felt the least bit sorry for Doris, who, to her mind, deserved being taken down a peg or three. Doris was rude, overbearing and utterly scathing of Peggy’s home and family, talking to Ron as if he was a servant and deriding all the good Peggy had done for those poor girls she’d taken in as the war had progressed.

  It was little wonder that Peggy was reluctant to approach her sister about what she’d seen that morning, and Dolly had known instinctively that if this tangle of gossip was to be unravelled, she was best placed to do it. Although the thought of having to be polite to Doris made her grit her teeth.

  She looked at her watch and decided she’d wasted enough time sitting here. Danuta would wonder where she’d got to, and Pauline would, no doubt, accuse her of neglect if she didn’t show her face soon.

  She checked her make-up in the rear-view mirror, repaired her lipstick and climbed out of the car. Knowing how much store Doris set by appearances, she was glad she was wearing her beautiful new Norman Hartnell two-piece. She draped the mink stole loosely about her shoulders to ward off the evening chill, gathered up her Chanel handbag and walked towards Doris’s house.

  Her high heels tapped on the uneven pavement, and then crunched over the freshly raked gravelled driveway. She noted there was fresh paint on the windows and doors, and spring flowers added a blaze of colour in the weed-free beds which had been sharply cut from the manicured lawn. Doris clearly wasn’t about to permit a little thing like a world war to disrupt her from keeping up appearances.

  Having rapped the knocker twice, Dolly stood back and waited. She could hear voices coming from the open windows upstairs and guessed it was the factory girls Doris had been forced to take in as evacuees, and who, according to Peggy and Ivy, she treated no better than poor skivvies. There were so many things about Doris that riled Dolly, that she began to wonder why she’d come. A telephone call would have sufficed – but then seeing the whites of her eyes was far more informative.

  She was about to knock again when the door opened to reveal an immaculately turned-out Doris in twinset and pearls and a tailored tweed skirt. Glossy leather shoes and nylon stockings completed the look, and Dolly wondered how she’d managed to get hold of the nylons without chatting up some American.

  ‘My dear Dolly,’ Doris said warmly. ‘What a lovely surprise. Do come in. I was just about to have my evening sherry.’

  Dolly was very tempted to just ask her questions and then go, but she realised she’d get more from Doris by being friendly. ‘That sounds like a marvellous idea,’ she said, stepping into the hallway.

  Doris led the way into her magnificent drawing room, and then closed the door on the lively chatter coming from upstairs. ‘You’ll have to excuse the noise,’ she said. ‘Those ghastly girls have yet to learn to keep their voices at a respectable level – and today’s excitement seems to have made them worse than usual.’

  She waved grandly to the expensively upholstered couch. ‘Do sit down, Dolly, and I’ll pour the drinks.’

  While Doris was busy with decanters and glasses, Dolly took her time to admire the panoramic view of the Channel through the large bay window that dominated one wall. She eased the fur from her shoulders and perched elegantly on the overstuffed couch, understanding now why Peggy was always so terrified of creasing it or denting the military row of cushions lined up along the back. She glanced around the room and decided it looked like the furniture department in Harrods – all style and very little comfort.

  Doris handed her an exquisite crystal glass full of sherry and sat down at the other end of the couch. ‘I think a toast is in order, don’t you?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Dolly raised her glass. ‘Here’s to peace.’ The sherry was very good, which probably meant it was black market – as were the cigarettes Doris was offering her from a gold case. Sobranies were as rare as hens’ teeth these days, and couldn’t even be found in Mayfair. It seemed Doris had useful contacts – or was that Ted? She set the thought aside. Delving into Doris’s shady dealings wasn’t the reason for her visit.

  ‘Well, this is all very pleasant,’ said Doris once the cigarettes were lit and Dolly’s outfit and mink had been zealously given the once-over. ‘You’re looking very well, Dolly. Is that a Norman Hartnell suit?

  ‘From his latest collection.’

  Doris nodded her approv
al but couldn’t quite hide her envy. ‘I heard you were in Cliffehaven and wondered if you might find time to call.’ She sipped her sherry delicately. ‘I suppose you’re staying with Margaret as usual?’

  Doris’s fake plummy voice was already getting on Dolly’s nerves – as was the woman’s refusal to call her sister Peggy – but she managed to smile pleasantly. ‘Actually, I’m with Pauline and Frank,’ she said. ‘Peggy has enough to do without me cluttering up the place, and with Brendon away at sea, I wanted to be on hand for Pauline, should she need me.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re a great comfort to her,’ said Doris, her vowels almost strangled in her effort to maintain what she considered to be an upper-class accent. ‘My Anthony is married now and living some distance away, but I know it’s a tremendous comfort to him when I make my very rare visits to him and his little family.’ Her gaze went to the silver-framed photograph on a side table. ‘That’s my little grandson, Teddy,’ she said proudly.

  ‘He looks a bonny little chap,’ Dolly said, dutifully admiring the laughing baby. ‘I’m so glad you manage to get to see them all when travel is so very difficult these days.’

  ‘One has ways and means when one knows the right people to approach,’ said Doris smugly. ‘You also must have influential friends to be able to come down here at such a time.’

  Dolly nodded in silent acknowledgement, delighted that the conversation was going in the right direction. ‘It certainly helps,’ she agreed, ‘but I was rather surprised to learn that Mrs Braithwaite obtained a travel permit. I didn’t think she moved in such elevated circles.’

  Doris lifted her chin and sniffed in disdain. ‘She’s no better than she should be, and women like that always find a way to get round authority,’ she said snootily.

  Dolly thought that was a bit rich coming from a woman who clearly flouted the law by purchasing things off the black market and probably used bribes to circumnavigate the extremely strict travel bans. But she showed none of her thoughts, and kept her smile.

  ‘I always thought Mrs Braithwaite was rather respectable – for a landlady of a pub,’ she added for Doris’s benefit.

  ‘Hmph. Respectable is as respectable does,’ said Doris scathingly. ‘No lady would own a public house, let alone be seen with the likes of Ronan Reilly – a most disreputable and unsavoury character.’ She gave a delicate shudder. ‘But then you must know that, having been friends with Margaret for so many years. I don’t know how you can bear to be under the same roof as him when you stay at Beach View.’ Doris soothed her ruffled feelings with another sip of black market sherry.

  Dolly held her temper and puffed on her cigarette. ‘I did hear that Mrs Braithwaite has had her head turned by a certain rather dashing major,’ she said, with all the eagerness of a genteel gossip. ‘Do tell me how that came about.’

  Doris stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Well,’ she began eagerly, ‘I understand the Major started going into the Anchor once he’d recovered enough from his surgery to be out and about.’ She leant closer. ‘The poor brave man lost half his left arm, you know,’ she said conspiratorially, ‘and I suspect he was feeling rather lonely and out of kilter once he realised his army career was over. Mrs Braithwaite was no doubt on hand to soothe his troubled soul,’ she added spitefully before sitting back with a holier-than-thou expression that Dolly wanted to swipe off her face.

  Doris continued, unaware of how close she was to getting a bloody nose, ‘Mrs Braithwaite was, shall we say, very friendly towards him; giving him free drinks and keeping him company after hours; having lunch with him at the Officers’ Club and coffee in the Lilac Tearooms. You mark my words, Dolly, that woman was quite brazen about it. It’s clear she saw an officer and a gentleman as well as a good army pension and a much easier life – it’s no wonder she went off with him.’

  Dolly feigned shock. ‘Went off with him?’ she gasped. ‘But Mrs Braithwaite is still married. There can be no future with the Major – or with anyone until her husband dies.’ She edged a little closer to Doris, inviting more intimacy. ‘Are you sure she went off with the Major, Doris, or does this come from some gossip you’ve overheard?’

  Doris drew herself up and looked down her nose at Dolly. ‘My dear Dolly, I never listen to gossip. I’m sure you would agree that the only truth is what can be witnessed by our own eyes – and I assure you, I saw them together at the station that morning. In fact I even spoke to her very briefly.’

  ‘Goodness,’ breathed Dolly, suitably wide-eyed and agog for more. ‘What did she say? How did she explain what she was doing with the Major?’

  Doris’s gaze slid away and she seemed to play for time before answering by lighting another cigarette. ‘We hardly had a proper conversation,’ she said finally. ‘I’m not in the habit of passing the time of day with women like that.’

  Dolly wanted to shake it out of her but knew she had to keep her patience and let Doris tell the story in her own way. ‘But I heard the Major had hired a car and driver when he’d left the Memorial, so what were they doing at the station?’

  ‘She asked – no, demanded – that I take a letter to Reilly. As if I had the time or the inclination to run errands for her. The bare-faced cheek of the woman quite took my breath away.’

  ‘How ghastly for you,’ Dolly murmured without a shade of sympathy. ‘So what did you do?’

  ‘She forced me to take the wretched thing, and before I could protest, she’d climbed back into that ridiculous car and was being driven off.’ Doris puffed furiously on her cigarette, clearly still ruffled by what she saw as impertinence by someone from the lower orders.

  ‘In the circumstances, I couldn’t blame you if you didn’t deliver it,’ said Dolly carefully.

  ‘Well, of course I didn’t,’ retorted Doris. ‘My time is far too taken up with all my important charity work to be delivering barmaids’ letters to Beach View. I gave it to Ethel, who most kindly offered to take it over there after she finished work.’

  ‘That was kind of her,’ said Dolly, who was wondering what Ethel had to gain by not delivering it. ‘Where was Stan? I’m surprised he didn’t offer to take it off your hands.’

  Doris shrugged. ‘I am not in the least familiar with the comings and goings of a lowly stationmaster, but I did note he wasn’t there that morning, which was probably why that ghastly woman, Ethel, was in charge of the signal box.’

  ‘I’ve yet to meet this Ethel,’ said Dolly, ‘so I’m rather curious to know what she’s like.’

  ‘She’s as common as muck,’ said Doris flatly. ‘Goes about in dungarees and a headscarf, and always has a roll-up stuck in the corner of her mouth.’ Her own mouth twisted in disgust. ‘Definitely not our sort of woman at all.’

  She brightened, fingering her strings of pearls. ‘You really must stay and have supper with me, Dolly. The girls must have almost finished cooking it by now, and I so enjoy your company.’

  Dolly looked at her dainty gold watch and gave a little gasp. ‘I’m so sorry, Doris. I would have loved to, but I have an appointment elsewhere this evening, and I’m already in danger of being horribly late.’

  She got to her feet and gathered up her handbag and fur, certain that Doris must be able to hear the furious beat of her heart and see the dislike in her eyes. The thought of staying a minute longer was too much to bear after what she’d heard.

  ’I suppose you’re off to some lovely supper party at the Officers’ Club – or is it dinner at one of the big houses close to the golf course?’ Doris didn’t wait for an answer, but clasped Dolly’s hand. ‘We are so alike,’ she said, ‘our social life is a whirl of parties and dinners with the best kind of people. Why, we even have a similar taste in pearls and furs. I so love mink, don’t you?’

  ‘Indeed.’ Dolly eased her hand from her clasp and headed for the door. She couldn’t get out of here soon enough. ‘Thank you for the sherry, Doris,’ she said, reaching for the latch. ‘If ever you’re in Bournemouth, do drop in so I can return your hospitality.’
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  Dolly was aware that Doris was watching her as she hurried across the gravel, to the freedom of the deserted pavement and then the sanctuary of the car. Her hands were shaking as she turned the key and crunched the gears.

  ‘One of these days, Doris Williams,’ she growled, ‘you’ll feel the back of my hand right across that snooty face.’

  Taking the little car into a screeching turn at the end of the cul-de-sac, she roared back towards the town, catching a glimpse of Doris standing at her gateway, her hand limply raised in mid-wave.

  Dolly had quickly realised that it would do no good at all to go storming up to the station to confront Ethel. It would cause trouble for poor Stan, and probably make things very difficult between him and his sly wife. Yet she still didn’t see what Ethel would have to gain by keeping that letter. Was it out of curiosity to see where Rosie was going and why – or was it spite?

  She drew the little car to a halt outside the Nissen hut which had replaced the booking hall and left-luggage store after it had been flattened in a bombing raid which had also destroyed an entire estate of houses. Climbing out of the car, she poked her head through the makeshift counter that had been cut out of the corrugated iron, and caught Stan eating a biscuit.

  She grinned. ‘Hello, Stan. I hope that biscuit’s part of your diet.’

  He started and placed a meaty hand over his heart. ‘You gave me a fright, and no mistake, Dolly. I thought you were Ethel come to check up on me.’

  Dolly laughed and submitted willingly to his bear hug. She’d known Stan almost as long as she’d been friends with Ron, and could still see the boyish delight in life in his smile that she remembered so well. She stepped back from the embrace and patted his chest. ‘There’s a lot less of you to hold onto,’ she teased. ‘But you’re looking very well, Stan.’

  ‘I’m half-starved,’ he said mournfully. ‘Ethel keeps a tight rein on what I’m allowed to eat.’ He glanced worriedly over her shoulder. ‘You won’t tell her about the biscuit, will you?’