A Wedding at Mulberry Lane

by Rosie Clarke

  ‘That is a rotten thing to say to me,’ Peggy said flushed and walked over to the sink to start splashing water on the label of an empty bottle.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Removing the label before I put them in the rubbish…’

  ‘Where’s the sense in that? It just makes us look as if we’re doing something underhand. Leave that and put the full bottles in your store cupboard. You can use them for cooking – that way if we were searched the story about them being a gift would ring true.’

  ‘I can’t use whisky in cakes and stuff when we could do with it in the bar…’

  ‘Well, this is still my pub and I’m telling you. I don’t want that stuff being sold over the bar. You’ll do as I tell you or I’ll smash them both and throw the contents down the sink…’ Laurence approached her, grabbing her arm roughly and glaring at her. ‘I know you thought you were entitled to get back at me – but you’ve had your fun and now it stops. Do you hear me?’

  ‘Able was just…’ Peggy looked up and he saw the change come into her face, defiance, pride and anger. ‘Yes, all right, we have been lovers – but that still has nothing to do with Able’s gift to me. He’s in love with me and he wants me to leave you when I’m ready and go away with him… and I think that might be quite soon.’

  For a moment Laurence was fit to murder her but something in her eyes stopped him. She looked young and proud, very like the woman he’d married – the woman he’d thought he was in love with until time and life got in the way. He’d taken her for granted and maybe she’d felt hurt and neglected – and he’d wanted Marie. If she walked back into his life, Laurence knew he would probably wish Peggy good luck and walk away, but he also knew that he would never see Marie again.

  News had filtered through that the Germans had tortured and then killed her and Laurence had wanted to die of the pain; it was the reason he hadn’t come back for months, and now he realised that he’d taken too much for granted. He’d expected he would have to make a fuss of his wife to get her on side, but now he saw it would take a lot more than he’d imagined. Peggy loved the pub and her friends, but it wasn’t enough for a passionate woman like her; she wanted more of life. And at the moment she didn’t want him.

  ‘Mum…’ Janet’s voice from the kitchen doorway broke into his thoughts. ‘Is everything all right?’

  Peggy looked at her and nodded; a grim little smile on her lips as she shook off Laurence’s hand. ‘I’ll come back now – are you busy or something?’

  ‘No, Mum, there’s a couple of people to see you… friends of Able…’

  ‘Able’s friends… why would…?’

  Laurence saw the colour stripped from his wife’s face. In that moment he knew that the young American serviceman had meant more than just a fling to her. Whatever was between them it was serious.

  Peggy went through the kitchen and the hallway into the pub’s bar. Laurence followed her, waiting just inside the door where he could see and hear but not be noticed.

  ‘Yes, gentlemen,’ Peggy said. ‘What can I do for you?’

  ‘Mrs Peggy Ashley?’ one of the servicemen asked. ‘My name is Tony Rivers. Able Ronoscki was a friend of yours I understand?’

  ‘Yes, Able is a friend…’ Peggy’s face was ashen and Laurence saw her clench her fists. ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘I’m very much afraid I have bad news, ma’am,’ Captain Rivers told her. ‘Able’s plane took off during rough weather in Belgium and it didn’t arrive at its destination. It was a small two-seater and he and his pilot are eleven days overdue with no contact.’ He handed her a letter. ‘We found this amongst Captain Ronoscki’s things and it’s addressed to you… it also appears that he put you down as his next of kin. If his death is confirmed we shall be sending his things to you in time, but I thought you should be informed that he is missing, believed lost…’

  ‘No…’ Peggy swayed and fell backwards. Laurence shot forward, but Captain Rivers got there first and caught her, supporting her to the nearest chair. Janet poured water into a glass and as her mother came round she took it to her. ‘Oh no…’

  ‘I’m very sorry to upset you, Mrs Ashley…’ the American said, distressed.

  ‘No…’ Peggy sat up straight and swallowed hard. Her hands were shaking and she looked on the verge of collapse. ‘Has Able’s family been told?’

  ‘He may have had some relations, but no one he wanted contacted in the event of an emergency – yours was the only name he gave us as his next of kin…’

  ‘I see…’ Peggy was blinking, struggling against her tears, which were trickling down her cheeks. Laurence went forward and offered her a handkerchief.

  ‘I think you should go to bed, Peggy. You’ve had a shock – I’m sure these gentlemen will excuse you…’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine.’ She pushed his hand away impatiently and looked at Captain Rivers. Her face was very pale as she said, ‘You will keep me informed – if there is any news?’

  ‘Yes, of course, ma’am,’ the American said. ‘Able was not a close friend of mine, but I’m sure some of his friends will call… anything we can do, of course…’ He looked awkwardly at Laurence who glared at him.

  ‘Thank you, I’ll be fine now. It was just the shock.’

  ‘Go and sit down for a while in the kitchen,’ Janet said, slipping an arm about her waist. ‘Dad can look after the bar for once.’

  ‘Yes, thanks, darling,’ Peggy said and walked past Laurence without looking at him, but he could see the grief in her face and he felt a pain strike him in the chest, but wasn’t sure whether it was for his wife’s distress or his own. Clearly, she had loved the young American and his loss meant more to her than the rupture in their marriage.

  The American officers took a rather hasty leave. Laurence guessed they’d known something was going on between Able and his wife and he felt a surge of anger and of humiliation. Common sense told him that he’d brought this on himself and he felt regret. He’d thrown away years of working together, love and laughter for… Marie. Yes, their brief liaison had been exciting and satisfying, but was it worth all he’d lost?

  Perhaps he and Peggy would make things up in time, especially now that her young lover had been cruelly taken from her – but could it ever be the same?

  *

  Peggy was conscious of a dull ache all over her body as she lay in her solitary bed that night. She’d lain crying for hours, feeling as if she’d been mortally wounded, the happiness she’d been glowing with ebbed away leaving a desert in its place. How could she go on living now that Able was gone? The pain of his loss was like a knife wound, causing her heart to bleed. She remembered his smile, the look in his eyes as he’d told her how much he loved her and the feel of his mouth on hers, the way their bodies fit and the agony curled up into a ball inside her. No one had ever loved her the way Able did and she didn’t know how she could get through life without him.

  Able’s letter was unopened under her pillow. Peggy couldn’t bring herself to read the words, because it would be like turning a knife in the wound. She wanted him here beside her, holding her close and she knew it most likely would never happen again.

  Yet missing wasn’t confirmed dead… Peggy tried to take comfort from the thought. Men did go missing and turn up again, but she knew in her heart that something was badly wrong. If Able were alive he would have contacted her somehow. His first thought would be for her. Peggy knew without a shadow of a doubt that if it were possible he would let her know… which meant that the most probable outcome was that he was dead.

  She’d missed him and looked for him, but it had never occurred to her that something might have happened to him. He wasn’t at war. Why should he be killed?

  Once or twice she’d wondered why he hadn’t been in; she’d even wondered if, as Laurie had implied, Able had tired of her once they’d had their weekend of love – but in her heart she’d known that Able’s love for her had been so much more. She’d just believed he would v
isit when he could. He had truly been a blessing in her life, coming to her at a time when she really needed it, but now he was gone and she felt dead inside.

  Laurie had taken his suitcase into the spare bedroom. He was being considerate, as though he understood what she was suffering. Peggy had acknowledged his care in her mind, though she said nothing. She wasn’t sure about the future. Even before the terrible news, Peggy hadn’t been certain that she dare rip her life apart for her own selfish desires, but now she knew that if Able walked in the door and said come, she would go. Except it was never going to happen. Her lover was dead and her youth had flown. All she had left now were her children and grandchildren…

  Chapter 17

  ‘I’ve got a bit of a pain in me chest, Violet love,’ Henry Jackson said to his wife that morning as she put a plate of fried bacon, fried potato, fried bread and fried egg in front of him. He poured brown sauce all over it, because his wife’s cooking wasn’t anywhere near as good as Maureen’s and he found her food a bit greasy these days, but grumbling never did any good. ‘You’ve spoiled me, but I’m not really that ’ungry.’

  ‘You’re not goin’ to waste good food after I’ve spent all that time cooking it especially for you,’ Violet said and pulled a sour face. ‘Honestly, there’s no pleasing you these days. Eat it up, Henry, and then get out of my way. I’ve got an important customer comin’ in soon and I don’t want you cluttering up my sittin’ room…’

  Henry muttered under his breath as she poured a cup of tea and then went off into Maureen’s bedroom. It was coming to something when he couldn’t sit down in his own house; she was lucky he wasn’t feeling up to giving her a piece of his mind. The only trouble was that Violet’s tongue was sharp and these days he usually came off the worst.

  It was no good, he couldn’t stomach all that grease. Pushing back his chair, Henry left the room and went down to the shop. He rubbed at his chest as he fetched the papers in from the alley where the delivery van dumped them each morning. Humping them into the shop, he bent down to cut the string that tied them and for a moment the world went black.

  ‘Are you all right, Mr Jackson?’ a youth’s voice broke through the fog after a few moments and Henry stared groggily up at Tommy Barton.

  ‘What ’appened?’

  ‘I think you passed out for a moment,’ Tom said, looking concerned. ‘I came in to get a box of matches and a tin of corned beef and found you slumped over the papers, sir.’

  ‘I was going to sort them…’ Henry pulled himself up into a sitting position. ‘Came over dizzy of a sudden. Can you give me a hand up, lad?’

  ‘Yeah, all right. Do yer want me to tell yer missus – or fetch a doctor?’

  ‘No, I’ll be all right in a minute…’ Henry puffed and moaned a bit as he got up, but then sighed with resignation. ‘I think I’d better go up and ’ave a lie-down for a while. Do you reckon you could sort the papers for me, lad? You could look after the shop for an hour or two, couldn’t you?’

  ‘O’ course I could, Mr Jackson – if you’ll trust me to go to your till and take people’s money.’

  ‘I ain’t got much choice,’ Henry muttered and then shook his head as the lad frowned. ‘No, I do trust you, Tom. I ain’t always said as much, but everyone knows you’re honest. Hang on ’ere until I sort meself out and then I’ll give yer half a crown.’

  ‘Yes, all right,’ Tom said. ‘I’ll stay ’ere and serve folk until you come back.’ He tipped his head to one side, considering. ‘I reckon you miss your Maureen more than yer thought, Mr Jackson.’

  ‘No business of yours,’ Henry muttered. ‘Don’t give any credit and watch the kids don’t pinch stuff – and if yer do all right, I’ll give yer a regular job on Saturdays.’

  ‘I’ll need five bob for a Saturday,’ Tom said. ‘I’ve got a lot of customers these days, Mr Jackson, and I’ll ’ave ter see if I can fit yer in…’

  Henry gave him a dark look but he was still feeling a bit light-headed so he ignored the lad’s grin and walked past him and back upstairs. He was going to have a lie-down, whether Violet liked it or not…

  *

  ‘Where ’ave yer been?’ Tilly Barton demanded when her son walked in at half past eleven that morning. She was up to her elbows in hot water and soda in the sink and glared at him. ‘I asked you to fetch some matches so I could light the copper hours ago…’

  ‘Mr Jackson was took bad and ’ad to ’ave a lie-down,’ Tom said, dodging as his mother aimed a wet slap at him. ‘He asked me to look after the shop for him and he gave me half a crown and a tin of Spam ’cos he was pleased wiv me.’

  ‘You were supposed to go to school this mornin’,’ his mother said crossly. ‘I shall have the man from the School Board round ’ere after me if yer don’t go to school – and that will cost me more than you earned this mornin’.’

  ‘You can give me a note tomorrow, say I’d got the toothache,’ Tom said and looked round for any sign of dinner. ‘What’s to eat today, Ma?’

  ‘Get yerself a bit of bread and drippin’ if yer ’ungry,’ she said. ‘I’ll be cookin’ tea time when yer should be ’ome. Why can’t yer be sensible, Tommy? You’ll end up ’avin’ ter wait in line fer jobs like yer father did – and follow in his footsteps to the nick, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  ‘No, I shan’t do that,’ Tom said. ‘Until they take me in the Army, I’m goin’ ter work for meself, Ma. I’ve got three chimneys to clean this weekend, and Mr Jackson wants me to work Saturday mornin’s fer ’im, but that only pays five bob – and Peggy pays me more to do jobs for ’er. I ain’t sure yet whether I’m goin’ ter oblige ’im. Like I said, I got a lot of customers now, Ma.’

  His mother made a tutting sound and shook her head. ‘Don’t get too big fer yer boots, lad. Pride comes before a fall. That Peggy Ashley’s been givin’ yer work, but what yer goin’ ter do when it runs out.’ She gave him a cuff round his ear.

  ‘I’ll find more jobs,’ Tom said. ‘It’s only until I’m eighteen and then I’m orf to the Army. I’d go now if they’d ’ave me. At least then I might get a smile or word of praise now and then…’

  ‘Where are yer goin’?’ his mother asked as he walked out of the back door.

  ‘Alice asked me to chop some wood fer her,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘And I’ve got to measure her back windows and get some new glass to replace the windows that got blown out the other night. She’s got cardboard up at the moment and she wants it done proper…’

  ‘Go on then,’ his mother said. ‘Maybe you’ll have time to chop some wood fer me when yer get back…’

  *

  ‘You’ve made a lovely job of them winders,’ Alice Carter said as she admired Tom’s handiwork. ‘I wasn’t sure if yer could do it, but yer’ve done well – as good as Mr Timms done fer Peggy when ’ers got blown out…’

  ‘Thanks, Alice.’ Tom smiled, because he liked doing jobs for the elderly woman who was always grateful for his efforts and paid him what she could afford. ‘It cost seven shillings fer the glass and I’ll charge yer a bob fer doin’ them…’

  ‘You’ll take this and thank you very much,’ Alice said and pressed a much-folded ten shilling note in his hand. ‘It would’ve cost me twice as much if the builder came out, lad. I’m very pleased so don’t say no or I can’t ask you again.’

  ‘Thanks, Alice,’ Tom said and pocketed the money. ‘I’ll just fetch in the coal fer yer and then I’ll get orf ’ome.’

  ‘Thanks, lad,’ Alice hesitated, then, ‘I don’t know whether to tell you, Tommy lad – it’s about your Sam…’

  ‘What’s he done now, Alice? If he’s been teasin’ yer cat I’ll give ’im a slap.’

  ‘No, it’s somethin’ more worryin’,’ Alice said. ‘I went round to see Uncle Joe yesterday, popped me Auntie Myrtle’s teapot again. He lets me pay a shillin’ a week until I get it back…’

  Tom nodded, because Uncle Joe was the pawnbroker in Artillery Lane and people often took their things to him for a
loan, paying it back a bit at a time and a few pennies interest until it was repaid.

  ‘What was Sam doin’…?’ he frowned. ‘He wasn’t sellin’ somethin’ there?’

  ‘I don’t know for sure – but he came out with money in his hand and I saw a gold weddin’ ring on the counter…’

  Tom whistled, because there was no way his brother could’ve come by such a thing honestly. ‘Thanks fer tellin’ me, Alice.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure if I should – I don’t like tellin’ tales and I wouldn’t tell anyone else, but ’e’s been on the bomb sites again. I saw ’im meself and so did Peggy.’

  ‘Right, I’ll sort ’im. You did right, Alice. If Ma finds out she’ll go crazy.’

  ‘Yes, that’s why I’ve told you,’ Alice said. ‘You’re a hard-working lad, Tommy Barton, and it’s a pity your brother isn’t more like yer.’

  *

  ‘What are yer doin’?’ Sam asked when he walked into the bedroom they shared that afternoon after school. His brother had got a tin box on the bed and he’d taken up the loose floorboard where Sam stored his treasures. Several pieces of gold and silver were spread on the white candlewick coverlet. ‘Those things are mine.’

  ‘Where did you get them, Sam?’ Tom frowned at him. ‘Or should I know? These came from the homes of dead people – or people who’ve been bombed and lost everythin’. How could yer? I’ve told yer and the police ’ave warned yer. A bit of scrap metal is one thing, even though you could be killed – but these things belong to someone else – and that’s stealin’…’