by Ellie Dean
‘It’s probably Delaney,’ said Peggy through a mouthful of gorgeously rich pie. ‘There was a letter from him this morning, and I expect, like Rita, she’s worried about what might be happening to him on those beaches.’
‘Hmm. You could be right, but it’s her father and Philip she should be thinking about – not some American fly-by-night who’s leading her astray.’ Cordelia stuffed her knitting into the bag at her feet and stroked Queenie, who was sitting on her lap.
‘It was lovely to see Danuta again after so long, but she did look tired and very frail,’ Cordelia went on. ‘It strikes me she was incredibly lucky to survive that enemy raid, but it’s strange we heard nothing about it on the wireless as they’ve been so few and far between of late.’
‘I shouldn’t set too much store in that, Cordy, they can’t report everything,’ said Peggy smoothly. ‘She was feeling a little perkier this evening. Her temperature was down, and she was full of Ron’s exploits this morning.’
Cordelia chuckled. ‘She told us too, and it did make us laugh. But I have to say, Ron really is his own worst enemy. I mean, what on earth was he thinking about, taking Queenie all the way up there, let alone letting her loose?’
Peggy scraped the last of the fish pie from her plate and savoured it. ‘Who knows what goes on in that man’s brain? I’ve given up trying to fathom it out.’
‘I doubt there is much of a brain to fathom,’ said Cordelia tartly.
‘That’s a little unfair,’ Peggy said mildly. ‘He’s bright enough – but he just doesn’t think of the consequences before he acts.’ She decided to change the subject. ‘How’s Bertie? We haven’t seen him in ages. Is he well?’
‘As fit as a fiddle and far too energetic for a man of his age,’ said Cordelia with a hint of pride. ‘We had a lovely lunch at the golf club after he’d played eighteen holes this morning, and he was planning to fit in another nine once he’d dropped me off here from the hospital.’
‘I saw you had lots of letters from Canada today,’ said Peggy. ‘How are things over there?’
‘They had a tough winter and were snowed in for a couple of months, but life is going on as usual, it seems, and they’ve told me to expect another food parcel.’ Cordelia gave a little chuckle. ‘It’s very thoughtful of them, and I know it will be a treat, but receiving food parcels makes me feel as if I’m a charity case. I shall be glad when this war’s over and the rationing stops.’
She picked up her handbag and cardigan, grabbed her walking stick and got out of the chair, tipping Queenie unceremoniously onto the floor. ‘Sorry, Queenie,’ she muttered. ‘I forgot you were there.’
Queenie was most put out and stalked off with her tail in the air.
‘Are you going up already?’ asked Peggy in surprise.
‘I’ve heard the news twice today, and have no real interest in hearing it again. It’s been a busy day and I’m tired. Besides, I have a new library book to start, and I prefer reading in bed.’
She put her hand on Peggy’s shoulder to stop her getting up. ‘I can manage the stairs perfectly well,’ she said. ‘You stay there.’
‘But—’
‘It’s much easier going up than down,’ Cordelia said firmly before she kissed Peggy’s cheek and headed for the hall. ‘Goodnight,’ she called over her shoulder.
‘Sleep well.’ Peggy tiptoed to the door, listening intently as Cordelia slowly climbed the stairs, poised to dash out and catch her should she fall.
She found she’d been holding her breath, and as Cordelia reached the landing, she let it out on a long sigh. She would have to do something to make Cordelia’s life easier – although the elderly lady would refuse to accept she needed help and would be most put out at what she’d see as interference. Yet it was clear she was finding the stairs a hindrance these days, and every time she went up and down them, Peggy dreaded it.
Returning to the table, she sat down and mulled over the problem. It would be easy to swap rooms with her, but then she wouldn’t be close to the bathroom or lavatory, and she quite often had to get up in the night now. Cordelia hated using the commode, and getting to the outside lav meant going down those concrete steps and out into all weathers – which was definitely not on.
Peggy fretted over the problem until the nine o’clock news began.
‘Here is the news read by Stuart Hibberd.
‘All the landing beaches in Normandy are now cleared of the enemy. Reinforcements and supplies are getting across safely. More airborne landings were made during the night when five waves of glider troops seized fresh positions on the Cherbourg Peninsula.
‘Heavy armoured fighting has started inland. A German tank attack near Caen has been beaten off. Allied aircraft flew more than thirteen thousand sorties yesterday. The RAF had more than a thousand planes out during the night on roads and railways behind the beachheads.
‘German attacks to the north of Jassy in Romania have got weaker and easily pushed back. In Italy the Fifth Army, pushing ten miles on from Rome, are now spreading out along the highways to the north.
‘The general picture from the coast of Normandy this evening is that the perils of D-Day have been successfully met, though the main battles at sea, in the air and on the land are still to come.
‘Letters to men taking part in the assault have already been sent across the Channel. This is announced today by the Post Office, which says that the postal service between the United Kingdom and our forces on the Continent have been planned as an integral part of the military organisation.’
Peggy’s mind began to wander. Never mind the invasion; there seemed to be more and more problems to be faced here at home, and she felt rather beleaguered by them. Cordelia couldn’t go on as she was; Rita needed extra attention at this difficult time; something was troubling Sarah; and there was still the question over whether Dolly had sorted out the problem between Ron and Rosie.
Her head was spinning with it all, and as the newscaster began to talk about the huge Japanese losses in Burma and going through the long list of the different regiments that were fighting alongside the Chindits, she switched the wireless off. Jim and the Burma campaign was the straw that would break her resolve, and she needed to stay strong to continue her own battle here.
Brenda had taken the night off, so Ron was only half-listening to the wireless as he served the clamouring customers, mulled over Rosie’s letter, and kept an eye on Sarah. It was unusual for the girl to come in here alone, and as she sat deep in thought on a stool at the end of the bar, he could tell that something was worrying her.
He waited for a lull then took his pint of beer with him and leant on the bar to talk to her quietly beneath the surrounding chatter. ‘This isn’t really the place for confidences,’ he said, ‘but I’m here to listen if you’d like to tell me what’s troubling you.’
She looked at him, her blue eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘I know you mean well, Ron, and usually I would have come to you for advice. But this time it’s too difficult – too personal – and I must deal with it on my own.’
Ron had a sudden and rather alarming thought, but wasn’t sure how to express it without causing offence. ‘Is this to do with your man, Delaney?’ he asked.
‘He’s part of it,’ she admitted. ‘But things have happened and …’ She tailed off, her expression forlorn.
‘To be sure, I’m sorry to be asking, wee girl, but would you be in a similar situation as young April found herself in?’
She looked at him like a startled fawn and then reddened before shaking her head. ‘I rather wish it was as easy as that,’ she replied. Then she took a breath, finished the drink she’d made last for the past hour, and lit a cigarette.
Ron frowned as he watched her. She was clearly on edge, but thankfully not pregnant, so whatever it was plaguing her couldn’t be that serious. ‘I’ve always found that a problem shared is easier to deal with. If you won’t confide in me, then go to Peggy. She doesn’t judge or tell you what to do, but talki
ng it over with her will help you decide how to fix whatever’s on your mind.’
Sarah nodded. ‘I know, but I don’t like to bother her. She already has enough on her plate without taking on my problems.’ She squared her shoulders and did her best to appear in charge of the situation. ‘Don’t worry, Ron. I’ll sort everything out myself in time, you’ll see.’
He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. ‘Go home to Peggy, wee girl. You’ll not be solving anything by sitting here. You won’t regret it, I promise.’
Ron watched as the girl shot him an uncertain smile, slid from the stool and made her way through the throng and out of the door. He’d been meaning to tell Peggy what had happened this morning with Stan and Ethel, but if Rita and Sarah were in need of her then he wouldn’t say anything for now. He’d see how things were in the morning, sit her down quietly and tell her then.
He turned back to serve the customers, his heart heavy at the thought of what a burden they all were to Peggy – motherly, sweet Peggy who was never too tired to listen, console or advise. What would they all do without her?
‘Pray God we never have to,’ he muttered.
Peggy had washed up her dishes and set the table for breakfast. It was a chilly, blustery night, so she was glad of the fire in the range as she settled down to write letters to her scattered family.
On hearing the slam of the gate a little while later, and feeling the cold snap of wind coming under the kitchen door from outside, she rose from her chair to put the kettle on, suspecting it was either Rita or Sarah in need of home comforts and a cuddle.
As Sarah stepped into the kitchen, Peggy could tell immediately that she was deeply troubled and bravely trying not to show it. She reached for her hands and drew her towards the fire. ‘Come and warm yourself,’ she said quietly.
Sarah sat down and Peggy perched on the arm of the chair and drew her into her side. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s worrying you so we can put whatever it is right?’
Sarah made no reply, but Peggy could feel her trembling from all the emotions she’d clearly been holding in for too long, and wasn’t at all surprised when the girl burst into tears. She held her close. ‘That’s it, Sarah. Let it all out. I’m here now.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ Sarah sobbed against Peggy’s shoulder. ‘It’s awful. I feel so awful.’
‘I’m sure it’s not half as bad as you think,’ Peggy soothed. ‘You’ve just been bottling things up, making them seem far worse than they really are.’
Sarah fumbled in her pocket and thrust a letter at her. ‘It’s worse than awful – it’s … it’s impossible,’ she finished on a fresh bout of tears.
Peggy held her close and fumbled the letter from Delaney out of the envelope. She read through it carefully and silently cursed the stupidity of the man for making things far more complicated than he’d needed to by lying. And yet she couldn’t understand why Sarah was so distraught.
She kissed the top of Sarah’s head before stroking back her hair. ‘He was very silly to lie to you, but it seems he’s genuinely sorry – and it’s a beautiful letter, Sarah,’ she murmured. ‘So why are you so upset?’
Sarah fumbled in her pocket again and wordlessly handed her the air letter from Australia.
Peggy opened it and began to read.
My darling Sarah,
I have received some wonderful news today, and as I sit here in the glow of evening at my writing desk penning letters to you and your sister, it is as if the world is suddenly a much brighter place, full of light and colour rather than the silver of the eucalyptus trees and the dull red of the earth, for at last there is word from Malaya.
The letter from your father was dated January 1942, and has been passed on from Borneo, through Indonesia to East Timor and then to Darwin before finally reaching me here in Cairns. I know it would be foolish to get my hopes up too high, for the news coming out of the Far East is horrifying, and after more than two long years in Japanese hands, anything could have happened to them. But the fact your father managed to write to me at all, and that the letter arrived in the post this morning, is no less than a miracle – and now I’m clinging to the hope that another miracle will be performed and both of them will survive and come home to us.
Peggy held the sobbing girl closer, understanding now why she was so distraught, and continued to read.
Do you remember Amah who looked after me as a child and cared for you and your sister so beautifully and with such devotion? It was such a terribly sad day that we had to say goodbye not knowing what might happen to her and the other Malay servants. She risked her life to discover where Jock had been taken after he was arrested by the Japs, and managed to get into Changi prison where he was being held. She was so brave, so loyal, and once this war is over, I will go back to Singapore to find her and repay her for her courage.
I have transcribed here the letter Jock wrote, for the original is barely legible and far too precious to send on another long journey around the world.
My Dearest Sylvia,
Amah has come to Changi in the guise of a kitchen helper for our captors, and at great risk to her own life has offered her assistance in getting news to you and our girls. I don’t have much time to write, so I will be brief.
I was taken prisoner shortly after you set sail for Australia, and I can only pray that you and our son arrived safely, and that our girls are secure in England with their great-aunts. The conditions here in the prison are appalling, with little food or fresh water and no medical care for the many wounded.
I’m sad to say that Philip was brought in this morning, and we now share a cell with ten others, most of them members of the civilian militia he’d joined. We are alive and unharmed, which is more than I can say for many others, and have learnt very quickly that this new regime views any protest as an excuse for brutal reprisals, and that they have a blatant disregard for the rules of the Geneva Convention governing prisoners.
There are rumours that we’ll be taken to an internment camp later today, so we live in hope that the conditions will be better there and that the Red Cross will be able to help the wounded amongst us. Amah tells me that most of the Chinese fled when the Japs invaded, but my old friend Lee Shing is still here until tonight, and will take this letter with him.
I’ve addressed it to your parents in Australia in the hope it will find you, and pray it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands, or cause the death of either of these two brave, loyal friends.
I also pray that before too long we shall all be reunited. God go with you all.
Jock.
Peggy turned the page to find that Sylvia continued with her letter, but she was finding it hard to read on.
There is a line from Philip at the bottom of Jock’s letter. He says, ‘My darling Sarah, my thoughts of you and the future we planned will give me the strength to survive whatever lies ahead until we can be together again. Wear my ring in remembrance of me and the promises we made, and know that I will always love you, Philip.’
Peggy dropped the letter in her lap. ‘Oh, Sarah, darling,’ she breathed, holding her close. ‘Oh, my poor, poor little girl. It’s no wonder you’re in such a state.’
Sarah huddled against her, burying her head in her shoulder. ‘How can I write to Delaney now and tell him how I feel? It’s unthinkable to plan a future with him after getting that wonderful, heart-breaking letter from Pops, who was clearly trying to be so brave and strong for us.’
Peggy continued to hold her, unable to find the words of consolation the girl needed, for the situation she found herself in was so impossibly hard, it would have challenged even the great wisdom of King Solomon.
Sarah’s sobs eventually quietened, and she drew back from the embrace, mangling the damp handkerchief in her restless fingers. ‘Philip asked that I wear his ring in remembrance of him and the promise we made to each other – but it’s been sitting in a box in a drawer for over a year,’ she said bitterly. ‘What sort of girl does that make m
e, Peggy?’
She got to her feet and lit a cigarette, then began to pace the floor. ‘I’ve betrayed him by falling in love with Delaney, and if he doesn’t survive whatever horrors the Japanese are inflicting on him and Pops, then I’ll never forgive myself.’
‘Sarah, it’s not your fault,’ Peggy protested.
‘Of course it is,’ Sarah rasped. ‘My fault entirely. I made promises I didn’t keep, let my head and heart get turned when I should have known better, and lived in a stupid dreamworld of romantic nonsense, all while Philip could be going through the worst kind of hell.’ She plumped down on a kitchen chair and burst into tears again.
Peggy went to her and held her, rocking her like a baby in her arms. ‘Sarah,’ she began quietly, still holding her. ‘Sarah, that letter was written almost two and a half years ago and anything could have happened since. I’m sorry to have to say it, but they might not even have survived Changi prison, let alone the camp they were sent on to.’
Sarah kept her head buried against her.
‘You can’t torture yourself like this and sacrifice your chance of happiness with Delaney if that is what you really want – and I think you do.’
Sarah shook her head and pulled back from Peggy’s arms. ‘It no longer matters what I want,’ she said, suddenly calm and coldly determined. ‘I’ll write to Delaney, explain the situation and wait for Philip. If he survives, then I will be the best wife I can be for him. It’s the very least I can do.’
Peggy’s heart ached at the thought of her throwing her life away on the very tenuous hope that Philip would survive. ‘Don’t you think Philip deserves a wife who stays with him out of love, not a sense of duty?’ she asked carefully.