by Sandy Taylor
Dear Maureen,
You have missed a celebration to end all celebrations. I’d say that half of the people in Brighton are still nursing hangovers. There was a great party in See Saw Lane, with tables running down the middle of the road full of sandwiches and jelly for the children. Someone dragged a piano into the street and we had a fantastic knees-up. Uncle John got so drunk that we had to carry him to his bed. Aunty Marge is still giving him earache a week later. Brenda and I wanted so much for you to be with us at this happiest of times and I so wanted my own little granddaughter to be amongst those children.
Every day trains are arriving at the station bringing home the soldiers. The platforms are full of women – wives, mothers and girlfriends, all waiting to see that one person step from the train. It is all terribly emotional. I hope you don’t mind, Maureen, but Brenda and I take it in turns to join them. You see, we still have hope that Nelson will be amongst them. If he does come home, then we want to make sure that one of us is there to meet him – we don’t want him to be alone.
Please come home, my darling girl, I need to hold you and the baby.
Love always,
Mum xxx
I sat on my bed and cried. It should be me waiting on that platform. Mum and Brenda still had hope when I seemed to have lost mine. I felt ashamed of myself.
I dried my eyes and went downstairs. Aunty Mary was struggling through the door with a bucket of water and I took it from her.
‘I told you I’d get the water in.’ I said.
‘I’ll have to get used to getting it myself again when you go home, Maureen.’
I put the bucket down on the floor and took her in my arms. Her hair felt rough against my cheek.
‘For you are going home, aren’t you?’ she asked gently.
I nodded.
* * *
It was the hardest thing saying goodbye to everyone. I had become so close to them all and to this town. I had never expected to find such love when I’d set out on my journey to Ireland. But I didn’t regret coming and I would never forget them, or this place.
On the day before I was due to travel back to England I left Rita with Aunty Mary and I climbed my daddy’s hill. As I looked down over the old town I knew that I would forever carry a piece of this place in my heart. I looked down at the river as it made its way out to sea and I wondered if that sea would one day bring me back to this hillside.
Sixty-Seven
Sean travelled up to Cork with us and saw us safely onto the boat. I held Rita in my arms as the boat pulled away from the dock, tears running down my cheeks as I watched Sean getting smaller and smaller as the boat sailed up the River Lee and out towards the sea.
I was leaving Ireland behind me and it felt as though I was leaving home all over again. This beautiful land had taken me into its arms, it had made me feel safe. It had made me feel loved. I would miss this place, I would miss its people and I would miss my daddy’s hillside. I thought about the little town, I thought about Sean and Auntie Mary and the little cottage in Tallow Street and then I thought about Nelson. I had found love in places I never expected to find it and whatever happened now, I would forever be grateful for that.
The journey felt different this time as it was a day crossing and Rita wasn’t a baby any more so I didn’t have to carry her all the time. We stayed on deck watching the land of my father disappearing into the mist. ‘I’ll come back one day,’ I whispered softly.
It was a calm crossing and we were able to find a seat in the lounge. With the gentle swell of the sea Rita fell asleep in my arms and pretty soon, I had joined her.
The train journey from Fishguard to London seemed endless. I wanted to see Mum and Brenda, I wanted to sleep in my own bed; I wanted to look out of my window at my tree. I wanted to be home. I suddenly just wanted to be home.
The train pulled into Paddington station with a hiss of steam and a shudder. A kind man lifted my case down from the rack and carried it out onto the platform.
The thought of negotiating the Underground with Rita and my case made me want to sit down and give up. But I knew it was just because I was tired, I knew I’d be OK – I’d come this far, I’d crossed an ocean. I wasn’t going to let the bloody London Underground defeat me. So I took a deep breath, held onto Rita’s hand and started to walk across the station to the escalators. That’s when I heard someone calling my name and saw Peter running towards me. I had never been so pleased to see anyone in my life.
I put down the case, flung my arms around him and burst out crying. ‘Oh, Peter,’ I said. ‘You don’t know how happy I am to see you.’
‘There now, there now,’ he said, smiling. ‘I thought I was going to miss you. Bad accident on the way here, no, not me but it held everyone up.’
‘Well, I’m glad you’re here. Thank you so much, Peter.’
He was smiling down at Rita. ‘Is this really that little baby I remember?’
I nodded.
‘Well now, you must both be tired after your long journey, shall we go home?’
‘Yes, please.’
This was only the fourth time that I had been in Peter’s car. The first time was the day my daddy died and the second time was when the cinema was bombed with Brenda and Gertie inside. Then at the beginning of my long journey to Ireland. All of those times I had been worried, but this time was different; this time I could enjoy the lovely car with the comfortable leather seats. With Rita on my lap I looked out of the window and watched the fields and villages rushing past. I wasn’t tired any more, I was full of excitement: I couldn’t wait to see my family, I couldn’t wait to be home.
As the car turned into See Saw Lane my stomach clenched with pleasure. It felt as if I’d been gone a lifetime.
And, suddenly, the door opened and my family were running down the path. Mum, Brenda, Aunty Marge and Uncle John. Mum threw her arms around me and kissed my face. Everyone was laughing and crying. Then she picked up Rita, Uncle John took the case and Brenda and I walked into the house behind them with our arms around each other.
‘Welcome home, Sis,’ she said.
‘It’s good to be home,’ I said.
Mum had Rita on her lap and she was gently taking off the baby’s coat and undoing the ribbons on her bonnet.
‘She hasn’t changed a bit, Maureen. She has the same face that I remember.’
‘Well, I should hope so,’ I said, laughing.
‘Marge, would you get us all a nice cup of tea?’
‘Of course I will,’ said Aunty Marge, heading for the kitchen.
‘The good tea set, Marge, and plenty of sugar. We have our girls home.’
‘Will you stay for some tea, Peter?’ I asked.
‘No, no, I’ll leave you all to it.’
‘Thank you for collecting me.’
‘You are very welcome,’ he said. ‘Now, be sure to bring the baby for a visit, my sister is dying to see you both.’
‘Of course I will, Peter, and thank you again.’
‘I’ll see myself out,’ he said.
‘Did you know that Peter was going to collect me?’ I asked Brenda.
‘I let him know when you were coming home. I didn’t even have to ask him to meet you, he offered.’
‘Thanks, Bren, I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life.’
* * *
It was lovely sitting beside the fire drinking tea with my family. The house seemed so much bigger than I remembered it but I suppose that was because Aunty Mary’s cottage was so small.
‘Now,’ said Mum, ‘I suggest you take a nice bath and then go for a little walk.’
‘A walk?’ I said, horrified. ‘I just want to sleep.’
‘If you go to bed now,’ said Aunty Marge, ‘you’ll never sleep tonight. A nice stroll on the Downs is what you need. Blow all those cobwebs away.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Brenda.
‘OK, if I don’t fall asleep in the bath.’
I lay down in the warm water.
The bath was a good idea; I felt dirty after the journey and maybe a walk wouldn’t be so bad.
Brenda and I left Mum and Aunty Marge cooing over Rita and started walking towards the Downs.
‘Now, what about this boyfriend of yours?’
‘I love him, Maureen, and he loves me.’
‘I’m glad for you, Bren.’
‘And the Land Army?’
‘Hard work but an absolute hoot! I never want to see another pig or chicken as long as I live. And Molly has vowed never to meat again, although I’m not sure how long that’s going to last.’
As we neared the top of the Devil’s Dyke Brenda suddenly stopped walking.
‘I’m sorry, Maureen, but I’ve left something behind. I’m going to have to run back to the house.’
‘Left what behind?’
But she was running back down the hill.
‘Just something!’ she yelled into the wind.
I couldn’t think what she could possibly have left behind that she would have to go all the way home for. I mean, what did she need up here on the Downs that was so important?
I stood where I was, the wind blowing my hair all over my face. I didn’t see him at first and then I was running and laughing and crying. And then I was in his arms, touching his face, kissing him. He was here, he was alive, he’d come home! I couldn’t get enough of him; I didn’t want to let him go.
He held me away from him and looked into my eyes.
‘Maureen?’ he said softly.
I nodded and then he took hold of my hands and twirled me around and around until I was dizzy with love and happiness and wonder.
‘She loves me!’ Nelson shouted across the hillside. ‘You do, don’t you?’
‘I think maybe I always have.’
‘Oh, my love!’ he said, holding my cold face in his hands.
We lay down on the cold, damp grass and kissed each other. I was in the arms of the man I loved and I knew in that moment that I had truly come home.
Epilogue
Nelson and I settled into See Saw Lane and became a family. First we had a little girl who we named Dottie, after Dorothy Gale in The Wizard of Oz, and, two years later, we had Clark. So that was our family: Rita Hayworth, Dorothy Gale and Clark Gable.
Dottie looked like Nelson and Clark was a mixture of the two of us. Rita ruled the roost, she was beautiful and she was clever. Clark was the comedian with a dry wit and a love of life. And then there was Dottie, sweet little Dottie, without Rita’s beauty or Clark’s confidence. My little girl who asked Father Christmas to bring her a best friend and a rocking horse. We couldn’t afford a rocking horse but I would have given anything to have found her a best friend.
Brenda married her Ernie and they had a little girl. They called her Carol Gertrude in remembrance of little Gertie. We never heard from Gertie after she left us but we often talked about her and hoped that she had made it through the war.
Every now and then Nelson and I visited Jack’s grave. One day I told him that I would like to go alone.
I walked through the cemetery gates and made my way between the old tombstones. It was a beautiful spring day. The grass was dotted with purple and yellow crocuses. It was the sort of day on which Jack and I would have walked on the Downs or over the hills to the cliffs that looked out to sea. He and I would never walk that way again.
I knelt beside his grave. Then I took a deep breath. ‘I have to let you go now, my beautiful boy,’ I said softly. ‘But I know you will understand. Nelson deserves all of my heart, he has to know that he’s not second best and he’s not, not any more. If things had been different, I know that we two would have been happy for the rest of our lives but we never had a chance, did we? Whoever is in charge up there had other plans for us. You would be so proud of your daughter, Jack. She’s smart and beautiful. I see you every time I look into her eyes. Nelson is a good father to her and a good husband to me. Be happy for me, Jack. I will never forget you or the night that we danced at the end of the pier.’
I kissed my fingers and placed my hand on the grave. ‘Sleep tight, my love,’ I said and I walked away.
* * *
When I got home Nelson was digging in the garden.
‘Cup of tea?’ I asked, kissing his cheek.
‘Lovely,’ he said.
I had just put the kettle on the stove when Dottie burst into the kitchen. She was out of breath and her cheeks were red as if she’d been running. She was smiling.
‘You look happy, Dottie,’ I said, smiling back at her.
‘I am, Mum, I am!’
I waited for her to speak.
‘I’ve got a best friend, Mum. I’ve got a real best friend. She’s coming to call for me in a minute,’ she said, taking the stairs two at a time.
‘What’s her name?’ I called after her.
‘Mary Pickles!’ she shouted. ‘Her name’s Mary Pickles.’
A Letter from Sandy
Thank you for choosing to read When We Danced at the End of the Pier, the final book in the Brighton Girls trilogy.
These books have been a joy to write and your comments and reviews have been a pleasure to read.
If you have enjoyed my little story I would be very grateful if you could take a moment to post a short review. These reviews are very helpful to new writers like me.
To keep up to date with the latest news on my new releases, just click on the link below to sign up for a newsletter. I promise to only contact you when I have a new book out and I’ll never share your email with anyone else.
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Thank you for all your support and encouragement. I think that I have the best readers and I really appreciate you all.
Sandy x
@SandyTaylorAuth
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The Girls from See Saw Lane
(Brighton Girls Trilogy Book 2)
Out now…
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‘I loved this novel so much, even though it’s probably the most heart-breaking story I’ve read all year...it will totally absorb you and capture your heart.’ That Thing She Reads
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Brighton 1963. Mary Pickles and I walked along the street with our arms linked, looking in shop windows. We were best friends and together we were invincible.
* * *
Dottie and Mary forged a friendship over a bag of penny sweets when they were eight years old. They’ve shared everything together since then – the highs and lows of school, family dramas, hopes and dreams and now, at seventeen, they’re both shop girls, working at Woolworths.
* * *
As they go out in the world in pursuit of love and happiness, the simplicity of their childhood dissolves as life becomes more complicated. The heady excitement of first love will consume them both, but the pain of unintentional betrayal will test their friendship in ways neither of them could ever imagine…
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A charming, heartbreaking and ultimately uplifting novel which brings a bygone era vividly to life. Fans of Nadine Dorries, Mary Gibson and Pam Weaver will love The Girls from See Saw Lane.
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Buy here!
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‘I absolutely loved this book and couldn’t put it down. It has all the ingredients for a perfect read: fantastic, loveable and very real characters, an emotional and compelling storyline, and a brilliant setting in time and place.’ Louise Douglas
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‘Sandy Taylor has proven herself to be a very talented and gifted storyteller with an immense insight into family, friendship, love, and forgiveness…This is one of the most endearing, yet heart-breaking, novels that I have encountered in quite some time and will certainly not soon forget…Witty and humorous dialogue written with such ease truly brought this story to life and swept me away between the pages. Filled with unexpected twists and turns, you'll want to keep the box of tissues nearby!’ Kimberly’s Bookshelf
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‘I have just started to read
this one and am hooked! I love the vivid details of the time period and the closeness of the best friends.’ Weekend Reading
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‘I would recommend it to anyone who loves stories about female friendships, books set in the past...and for anyone who wants an emotionally stirring read!’ My Bookish Ramblings
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‘A beautiful tale of friendship, love, betrayal and forgiveness and one that will stay with me for a long time to come...The Girls From See Saw Lane is a truly beautiful story that will touch your heart. Mary and Dottie will certainly live on in my head and my heart.’ By The Letter Book Reviews
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‘I find it very hard to believe that this is Sandy's first book. This book is so well written...The relationship between the girls is very heartwarming, but also extremely heartbreaking, there will be times when you will need tissues at hand.’ The Reading Head
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‘I recommend this book to all who want to take a wonderful trip back to the 60’s. I would give it more than 5 stars if there were more to give.’ Library Thing
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‘When you read this book, be prepared to laugh and to cry (it gets really sad) … The Girls from See Saw Lane is a good book to settle in and read on a rainy afternoon.’ The Avid Reader
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‘Wow this book had me laughing out loud one minute and bursting into tears the next..A massive page turner.’ Nat's Reading Cloud