To Dream Again

by To Dream Again (retail) (epub)

  * * *

  For a while things went so smoothly Joey feared it could not last. He was right. The long-awaited arrival of his artificial foot did not turn out to be the blessing he had expected. He had been so looking forward to getting it; a bit of time to get a comfy fit, a bit of effort until he got the hang of it, and at last he would be standing on his own two feet again. Reality was very different. He had not expected to experience so much difficulty learning to move his leg so that his foot touched the ground effectively. He would fail to manoeuvre properly and trip or overbalance, or else he found himself becoming exhausted because he was raising his knee to exaggerated heights at every step. He was also not prepared for the discomfort as the foot, padded as it was, chafed against the tender flesh of his stump until it was raw. His determination to walk forced him on past the limits of his endurance, until he could have wept with the pain.

  Finally the doctor ordered him to take things more easily.

  ‘The way you’re going, my lad, you’ll raise an abscess on the stump, and that will be the least of your troubles!’ he had said sternly. ‘It’s not something you can do overnight. You’ve got the rest of your life to get the hang of walking with a new foot, so what’s the rush?’

  The rush was the urgent need to get the business started, and have some money coming in as soon as possible. His immobility was a terrible setback, for now who would wait on the tables? He had pictured himself doing it – a more mature version of the dashing figure he had been at the Devonshire Hall. He had allowed himself the added appeal of a limp, his proof of his service record, but that was all. It had been a pointless dream. He could not manage it, and now he would have to bring someone else in. The extra expense would be little short of disastrous.

  As he sat, racking his brains despairingly, his gloomy thoughts were broken by the entrance of Millie Baxter.

  ‘What about my aprons?’ she said.

  ‘Aprons?’ He stared up at her in bewilderment.

  ‘Yes. I want decent ones. Nice white ones with a frill.’

  ‘What aprons? What the heck are you talking about?’

  ‘My aprons!’ She spoke loudly, as though addressing an imbecile. ‘For when I wait on the tables. I’ve got a tidy black dress.’

  ‘Wait on the tables? You?’

  ‘Yes, of course. You can’t and she won’t, so there’s no one else, is there?’

  For a moment Joey was speechless. The thought of Millie, with her taciturn manner, serving the public was so ludicrous that he nearly laughed out loud. Then he thought again. What choice did he have? Millie it would have to be!

  ‘You can have what aprons you like,’ he said. ‘You’d better go and choose them yourself.’

  ‘And caps? Fancy ones?’

  ‘Yes, get some caps as well.’

  To his amazement Millie came as close to smiling as he had ever seen her. She actually wanted to be a waitress! Whether she would be any good remained to be seen. Joey could not imagine her waiting at tables, but then there were times when he could not imagine the business opening. It seemed like an impossible dream. Eventually, with excitement and trepidation, he hung up the ‘Open’ sign, wondering when and if the customers would come. He had barely time to hobble back indoors before an elderly couple arrived.

  ‘It says bed and breakfast outside,’ said the man. ‘Would you have a double room for a couple of nights? And we’d like a meal, too.’

  Seaton’s Cafe and Guest House was in business!

  Chapter Seventeen

  Mercy cradled the baby in her arms, rejoicing in the soft warmth of the small body against her, relishing the slight pressure of the tiny head under her chin. To think she now had a daughter! Jennifer Blanche! Would old Blanche have been pleased, she wondered? She was not sure. There was never any certainty about the way her grandmother would react. There had been no other name for the child, though. She was old Blanche to a T and had been since the very first day.

  She hoped Peter knew. She had sent a message as soon as she could, but there was no knowing when or if it had reached him. She wondered how long it would be before Peter saw his daughter. The cold thought that he might never do so she pushed to the back of her mind. The war was nearly over! Fate could not be so cruel, could it? Oh, how she wished the fighting would end, and he could come home.

  A few more months, and then, on a chill November day, the whole country erupted in one great outburst of joy. The Armistice had been signed! There was peace at last!

  ‘I suppose you’re hoping your husband’ll be home for Christmas,’ said Queenie.

  ‘There’s not much chance of that, I’m afraid.’ Mercy pulled a face.

  ‘What a shame! I can’t think what they still want soldiers for, now that it’s all over.’

  ‘I suppose it’s going to take a time, getting everyone back.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right. It does seem a shame, though, your little boys not having their daddy home for Christmas. Poor man, he hasn’t seen the baby yet, has he? Where is she? Haven’t you brought her to see us?’

  ‘Not today, I’m afraid. The weather’s too cold.’ Mercy was only partly telling the truth. She did not like bringing the baby when she came to her brother’s house. The bleak look in her sister-in-law’s eyes whenever Queenie held Jennifer made her uncomfortable. In that childless household she felt quite guilty. Changing the subject quickly she said, ‘How’s business?’

  ‘Mustn’t grumble,’ replied Joey, stumping in. ‘We’re doing all right.’

  Mercy had her doubts. Although the cafe was heated the rest of the house was freezing. There could only be one reason for such meagre fires in this weather – economy.

  ‘Yes, we’re doing all right,’ Joey repeated. ‘Of course it takes time to build up a reputation for good food, but I reckon we’re well on the way.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ Mercy rose to leave.

  ‘Thanks for coming.’ Joey walked with her to the door. He was moving more easily these days, and she commented upon it.

  ‘Yes, thank goodness,’ he grinned in reply. ‘I don’t trip over nearly as often. I still need my crutch, just to steady myself. I intend to do without it by the summer. You can’t have a crutch in a busy cafe, it’d just get in the way.’

  It was impossible not to admire his optimism, even though Mercy feared the business was not doing well. Surviving this first year would be the great test for her brother. What he needed was something to tide him over the lean period while the cafe was getting established.

  She stopped suddenly on the door step.

  ‘Catering for parties!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Who is?’ demanded Joey, nearly colliding with her and regaining his balance with difficulty.

  ‘You could! You could do outside catering! Providing sandwiches, cakes and so on for people’s parties and celebrations. Those little savoury pies that Queenie makes are delicious, they’d be ideal!’

  ‘It’s certainly an idea.’ Joey looked hopeful. ‘How would we deliver the food, though?’

  ‘I could come and drive for you.’

  ‘You would, too!’ Joey laughed. ‘No, you’ve given me the idea, that’s enough. The rest’s up to me.’

  ‘Well, if you decide to try it get your advertisements out now. It’s the right time, with Christmas coming on.’

  ‘I will, don’t worry! Thanks a lot, Mercy. For everything, not just for this. For everything going right back to when you used to keep me at my books and made sure my neck was clean. But for you I’d still be working in Sam Prout’s tiddy field—’

  ‘Potato field,’ she corrected, touched by his words.

  And they both laughed.

  * * *

  For Mercy the Christmas celebrations that year had an odd, unreal feeling to them. The festivities were the most joyous for years because the war was over, although there were still severe shortages and restraints. But Peter was still away in the Army. With three children in the household the festive season at the V
illa Dorata was lively enough, but she missed him. It was peacetime, and Mercy felt that he ought to have been with them.

  Early in the New Year the telephone rang. It was a highly delighted Joey.

  ‘Just thought I’d let you know that your idea for doing outside catering is proving a life-saver,’ he said. We were having a bit of a lean time, though I didn’t like to admit it, then along you came with your brainwave. We’ve been doing a nice steady trade over Christmas, and it looks like continuing – coming-home parties for fellows leaving the services mainly. What’s even better is that we’re getting more and more business through personal recommendation. Beats an advert in the Paignton Observer every time.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so glad!’ Mercy felt a great sense of relief.

  ‘Yes, I think it’s going to prove a good back-up to the rest of the business. And it’s all thanks to you!’

  ‘Not to mention Queenie’s cooking!’

  ‘And my organizing ability! Don’t forget that!’ Joey said so emphatically that she laughed. ‘Now, how are things with you? When is that husband of yours coming home?’

  ‘At the end of March, isn’t that wonderful? I only heard this morning.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it. You’ll be glad to have him back, I know. I bet the boys are thrilled to bits.’

  ‘Indeed they are. John’s already started to cross the days off on the calendar.’

  ‘He can’t have got far if you only heard this morning. Now don’t forget, if you’re planning a big party to welcome your Peter home I know just the firm to do the catering!’

  ‘You must give me their address sometime,’ Mercy answered wryly, leaving Joey still chuckling when she put down the phone.

  It seemed that March would never come, then, at last Mercy found herself waiting yet again on Torquay Station. The boys, smart in their sailor suits, fidgeted with impatience, while Mercy walked up and down, rocking Jennifer in her arms. Eventually the train puffed in, cutting off the warm spring sunshine, casting the platform into shadow.

  Peter had lost weight! That was all she had time to observe before he clasped her in an embrace so tight that Jennifer set up a wail of protest.

  ‘Poor little mite! Did you get squashed?’ Keeping one arm still round Mercy he addressed his new daughter, gently caressing the baby’s plump little cheek with a tentative finger. ‘Oh, you’re beautiful! Beautiful like your mama! No man ever had a better welcome home present!’ Then he turned his attention to John, who had been jumping up and down and tugging at his father’s sleeve in an attempt to gain his attention. ‘Now who is this huge young man who seems so eager to speak to me?’

  ‘It’s me, Papa! It’s John!’ cried the boy.

  ‘John? It can’t be! John was only little, and you’re a big fellow. So big I don’t think I can throw you up in the air any longer. Let me try!’ To John’s noisy delight he picked up the child and swung him skywards. ‘Goodness, what a weight! I’ll have to put you down. Now, William here will be much easier!’ He reached for his other son, but the younger boy backed away. ‘Let’s see if I can throw you in the air too,’ he persisted. William’s response to being picked up was to scream, ‘No! Don’t want to!’ so vehemently that Peter quickly released him. ‘What’s the matter? Did I hurt him?’ he asked Mercy anxiously.

  ‘No, I’m sure you didn’t. It’s – it’s just that he hasn’t seen you for a while. He’s a bit shy.’

  ‘Shy? Of me?’ Peter was astounded at the idea. He crouched down to the level of his younger son, who was trying to hide behind Mercy. ‘Don’t you remember me?’ he said persuasively. ‘Don’t you remember your Papa?’

  William merely turned his back on his father and buried his face in Mercy’s skirt. Peter rose, distress on his face.

  ‘Well I’m blessed!’ he said quietly. ‘I didn’t expect that.’

  ‘Don’t forget, he’s only five,’ Mercy explained gently. ‘And he hasn’t seen you for over eighteen months. That’s a long time in his little life. You can’t blame him for not remembering you.’

  ‘I suppose not.’

  ‘I remembered you, Papa!’ put in John, quick to seize the advantage. ‘I remembered you very clearly.’

  ‘Yes, you did, and I’m grateful.’ Peter took him by the hand. ‘Let’s go home now and see if Grandmama’s forgotten me.’

  John thought this was a great joke, and giggled all the way to the car. Mercy was not so amused. She had seen the hurt look on her husband’s face, and she felt the incident had marred the pleasure of his homecoming. Not for long, though. The welcome awaiting him at the Villa Dorata dispelled all shadows. Rogers even managed to produce some champagne. It seemed strange, having Peter home and knowing that he would never be going away again – not to war, at least – just as it was strange seeing him in civvies. How quickly she had come to associate him with Army uniform.

  Their love-making that night was at first filled with urgency, as if they were unaccustomed to having time to satisfy their loving. Only gradually, as the night wore on, did their passion become more leisurely, interspersed with contented slumber, letting them take pleasure in each other again in a way they had not done since the early days of their marriage. Briefly, only briefly, did Mercy allow herself to think of the period when she and Peter had seemed to be drifting irrevocably apart. It had taken a terrible war to heal that rift. The shadow of it was with them still, in spite of the way the anxious war years had served to close old wounds and soothe old hurts.

  William continued to be a problem. Always more introvert and temperamental than his elder brother, he steadfastly rejected Peter’s friendly overtures with all the self-willed obstinacy his five years could muster.

  ‘Why does he do it? That’s what I can’t understand. There’s John who’s only delighted to have a game of ball in the garden with me, or come to see how the Tango is getting on, yet William avoids me as though I were a monster. People will think I ill-treat him, or something.’

  ‘John is older, and he’s easy-going, like you. He can cope with change much better than poor William. Try to see it from his point of view. He’s had a lot of upheaval in his little life recently. Firstly Jennifer arrives, and he is ousted from being the baby of the family. Then a large stranger comes to live in the house with him.’

  ‘I’m not a stranger, for pity’s sake! Pm his father!’

  ‘To him you must seem a stranger. Just let him come to you in his own good time, then everything will be all right!’

  ‘It’s about time he went to school,’ Peter said, anger tingeing his hurt.

  ‘Please let’s get over one hurdle before we tackle the next,’ she begged.

  ‘Is that what I am – a hurdle to be got over?’

  She grinned suddenly. ‘I’m not sure who deserves the title most, you or William. After due consideration I think it’s a draw.’

  Slowly Peter began to smile.

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said. ‘And I’ll take your advice and let things take their course, for all it’s such a blow to my pride. I’ve spent the entire war dealing with grown men, and handling them very well, if I may say so, yet now I find myself unable to cope with my five-year-old son.’ ,

  ‘I think an entirely different approach is needed. Imagine how different your Army career would have been if your battalion had consisted of five-year-olds instead of adults.’

  ‘Perish the thought! I would have surrendered to the enemy long since!’ Peter laughed. He flung his arms about her and swung her off her feet. ‘How lucky I am to have you! For all you’ve given me a difficult son.’

  ‘I don’t find him difficult,’ replied Mercy, putting her arms about his neck. ‘And the giving was not entirely mine. If I recall you had something to do with the production of William.’

  ‘Did I?’ He pretended to consider. ‘So I did! Perhaps I can’t put all the blame for any little difficulties on to you.’

  ‘No, you can’t.’ She began to plant a succession of light kisses along the line o
f his jaw. ‘Besides, there soon won’t be any little difficulties, you’ll see.’

  ‘At this moment I can’t see anything or anyone but you,’ he said, the pressure of his arms tightening about her.

  Mercy melted against him contentedly. Things would soon sort themselves out, and once they did the future would be so rosy! The years ahead appeared to her as an idyllic glow.

  * * *

  The rosy future had to be postponed. Just as everyone was getting used to having Peter home and being a complete family once more, Agnes became ill. She had fallen victim to the fresh outbreak of flu that was sweeping the country. Mercy felt guilty. At the beginning of the epidemic she had been so concerned with protecting the children from it that she was scarcely aware of the threat to the older woman. For Agnes was old! Mercy realized it with a shock as she gazed down at her mother-in-law lying in bed. She seemed to have shrunk in size, almost as though she were diminishing before their eyes.

  Outside the bedroom the doctor’s expression grew grave.

  ‘You were a VAD, I believe, Mrs Lisburne,’ he said to Mercy. ‘I am sure you’re perfectly well aware of how little we can do at this stage. Her lungs are my chief concern. Already she is experiencing difficulty in breathing. In any other household I would recommend hiring a trained nurse, but under the circumstances…’

  ‘I will look after Mrs Lisburne myself,’ Mercy said.

  ‘She could not be in better hands, I’m sure.’ The doctor gave a brief smile. ‘My only warning is don’t wear yourself out! You don’t want to get ill yourself.’

  ‘I’ll be sensible,’ promised Mercy.

  For nearly a week Agnes grew steadily worse. For as long as she could Mercy tended her, listening to the rasping breath hour after hour, watching the woman in the bed tossing and turning feverishly.

  ‘You can’t keep this up!’ said Peter firmly. ‘It’s foolish to try.’