by Ellie Dean
Rita laughed. ‘Go on, spit it out.’
‘I heard that May has almost completed her training and has taken her first solo flight.’ Cissy carefully painted Rita’s lips scarlet. ‘She’ll be on operations within the week, and is bound to fly down here at some point.’
‘Goodness,’ breathed Rita. ‘Well done, May. Who would have thought it?’
‘She’s braver than I’ll ever be,’ muttered Cissy as she concentrated on tweaking Rita’s hair and covering it liberally with hairspray. ‘There you go,’ she said. ‘All done. You look a treat, Rita, and no mistake. Chuck won’t be able to keep his eyes – or his hands – off you.’
They giggled and hugged, careful not to crease their dresses or smudge their make-up. ‘What’s your date like?’ asked Rita.
Cissy grinned. ‘His name’s David and he’s an RAF fighter pilot. He’s very handsome and dances like a dream.’
‘What about your Australian?’ asked Rita warily.
‘He’s in the thick of it in North Africa somewhere.’ Cissy’s smile faltered as she plucked at the sling over her arm. ‘I haven’t heard from him in a while, even though I did as you suggested and wrote him lots of chatty letters.’
‘You know the post is unreliable. I’m sure you’ll hear from him soon,’ Rita murmured. She gave Cissy a warm smile. ‘So, are you ready for a night on the town?’
‘Absolutely,’ she replied, twirling the frothy skirts of her silvery dress as her happy mood revived. ‘The boys should be waiting outside by now. Let’s show them how well we scrub up – even if one of us has to wear a blasted sling.’
They reached for the warm woollen wraps Cissy had provided for the evening and were still giggling as they carefully made their way down the grand staircase in their high heels to the ground floor. As they reached the main doors they looked at one another, took a deep breath and sailed out into the frosty night.
Chuck and the young English pilot stared in delighted amazement, and then quickly helped the girls into the borrowed car. Within moments they were heading for the seafront and the Galaxy ballroom.
Peggy was almost on the point of collapse. She’d been travelling for four days, and these last few miles seemed to be the longest as the bus trundled through the night past darkened villages and down winding country lanes. Her family must be worried sick by now, but she hadn’t been able to contact anyone during that horrendous journey, and could only hope that someone would be at home to welcome her.
As the bus pulled in by the station, she wearily dragged herself out of the seat, hauled her case from the rack and slowly followed the other passengers down the steps to the street. There was no one there to greet them, but then they hadn’t known when they would arrive. She looked at her watch. It was almost ten o’clock.
It was pitch-black, but Peggy could still make out the wreckage of the station buildings, the gaps and yawning skeletons of the houses and shops that had once stood close by, and the absence of the bus terminus and the wall that had once shielded the ugly shunting yards.
She dreaded to think what other damage there was in Cliffehaven, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that, for the trolleybus was just pulling up on the other side of the street. She quickly clambered on and discovered she had to stand, for every seat was full. She clung to the strap as the trolleybus clanked and rumbled down the High Street, steadying herself every time it came to a halt to let people off.
Most of them were gone by the time the trolleybus turned the corner, and she sank into a vacated seat as they began the long journey down the seafront. She’d lost track of the date, and was surprised to realise it must be New Year’s Eve. Despite the war, it looked as if Cliffehaven was celebrating, and she smiled wearily as she saw the knots of young people outside the pubs, hotels and dance halls. There had even been a long queue outside the Odeon, and she wondered if Jim was working tonight, or out drinking with Ron at the Anchor.
It seemed everyone was determined to have fun, to pack away their cares and keep smiling in the hope that 1941 would be a better, more peaceful year. But she was too tired to think straight, let alone celebrate. What she needed now was her family around her, the kitchen fire, a soft chair and a cup of tea.
The trolleybus came to a screeching halt at the end of the promenade and Peggy stepped off. It was a cold night, the wind carrying the salty breath of the sea which splashed and dragged reassuringly against the pebbles. It was a sound she’d missed – a sound that meant she was home.
She looked up the steep hill, thinking of her family who she hoped would be waiting there, and found the energy to pick up her case again and begin the climb.
Everywhere was in darkness, but she could hear raucous singing coming from the Anchor as she passed Camden Road, and the music from several wirelesses as she turned into Beach View Terrace. She eyed the old house lovingly. It was still standing despite the barricaded windows, the chipped paintwork and the smashed lamps at the bottom of the steps. It was as much a symbol to her as that photograph of St Paul’s was to the Londoners. As long as they both remained standing, they would come through this.
She slotted her key in the door and stepped into the hall. The house was silent and there was no sight or sound of Harvey as she closed the door behind her. It seemed everyone was out, and it was far too late to disturb Mrs Finch.
But as she stood there feeling rather sorry for herself, she noticed there was a glimmer of light coming from beneath her bedroom door, and her heart did a little jig. Jim was home.
Her weariness fled as she put her things down and quietly slipped off her coat, hat and gloves, imagining his surprise at her just walking in. Oh, what a reunion they would have with the house all to themselves. She tiptoed across the hall and reached for the door handle.
The throaty, unmistakable chuckle of a woman came from the other side of the door.
Peggy froze. Her heart was racing now, not with pleasurable anticipation, but with dread. She leaned nearer the door, listening, the blood drumming in her ears, her thoughts in turmoil. She could hear the woman’s voice, muffled and distant, and the answering deeper male tones, then the sounds of more giggling and scuffling.
Peggy had heard enough. She crashed the door open. ‘Jim Reilly, I’m going to kill you,’ she stormed.
June shot up, the sheet pulled to her naked chest, her face reddening, eyes and mouth wide with shock. ‘It’s not . . .’
Peggy stared at her, then gathered her wits. ‘Get out, you little tart,’ she snapped, her whole focus now on the mound beneath the bedclothes. ‘At least have the courage to show your face, Jim Reilly,’ she barked. ‘Then you can get out as well.’
‘But—’
‘Shut up, June, and get your knickers on.’
The mound moved and a stranger emerged shamefacedly from beneath the covers. ‘There’s no need to blow a bleedin’ gasket,’ he said crossly as he shook the hair out of his eyes. ‘We was only . . .’
The relief was immense but it did nothing to quell the rage that was like a red mist in Peggy’s head. ‘I’ll blow more than a bloody gasket if you don’t get out of my bed and out of my house.’ She snatched the big clothes brush from the top of the dressing table and waved it threateningly.
He grabbed his trousers and Peggy turned to face June, who was rapidly trying to get dressed. ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes to pack your bags,’ she snapped.
‘But I—’
‘I don’t want to hear your excuses,’ Peggy interrupted. ‘How dare you sneak a man in here – and into my bed?’
‘You were away and everyone was out,’ said June sullenly. ‘I was going to change the sheets.’
Peggy took one look at that almost defiant expression and slapped June hard, the sound ringing through the silent house. ‘Get your things, you slut,’ she said, giving her a push that sent her stumbling into the hall.
‘You’ve no right to hit me,’ June shouted furiously.
‘I’ve every right, and at this moment if you w
ant to make something of it, I’m more than ready to prove it.’
June must have seen Peggy’s very real intention to hit her again, for the fight went out of her and she burst into tears and raced up the stairs.
Peggy saw the young Cockney soldier still lurking in the bedroom. ‘Out!’ she yelled. He scuttled for the front door and she slammed it behind him and leaned on it, breathing heavily. Where the hell she’d found the energy to explode like that, she’d no idea, but she suspected that her fear had played a major part. How could she ever have suspected Jim of doing such a thing – and in their bed?
June came downstairs and Peggy silently handed her back her food ration book and took her keys. She opened the door, her expression brooking no argument or plea.
As June went down the steps, Peggy slammed the door and strode into the kitchen. Putting the kettle on the hob, she returned to her bedroom, flung open the windows to get rid of the smell of June’s cheap perfume, and furiously stripped the bed.
The anger was still with her and her tears were hot as they rolled down her face. ‘How dare she after all this family has done for her? Tart. Filthy, dirty little tart.’ Yet her anger was also aimed at herself for ever doubting Jim, and she knew it would rankle long after this evening.
Gathering everything up, she carried it down to the washtub in the basement, poured hot water and a dash of bleach over it and left it to soak. She would have a cup of tea and a cigarette and then see what there was in the larder. The welcome home had been far from the one she’d expected, but by golly it had given her one heck of an appetite.
She’d made the bed with fresh linen and closed the window, liberally spraying the room with her most expensive perfume to make it her own again. Having eaten a vast Spam sandwich and three biscuits washed down with a gallon of tea, she laundered the bedlinen then sat and waited for her family to come home.
Anne and Martin arrived first and she hugged and kissed them, made a fuss over Anne and told them about the awful journey she’d endured to get home. She said nothing about her to-do with June. Ron and Jim came in together, both of them unsteady on their feet, and she said nothing about it to them either.
Once their joy at her homecoming was overcome by weariness, Anne and Martin went to bed and Ron staggered down to the basement, leaving Jim alone with Peggy in the kitchen.
‘Will you be coming to bed, Peg?’ said Jim. ‘You’re looking exhausted, darlin’.’
‘I’ll be with you soon,’ she replied, giving him a kiss, wanting very much to climb into bed with him. ‘But I won’t rest easily until the other girls get in.’
‘Cissy’s staying with Amy tonight,’ said Jim, ‘and the others could be hours yet. Come on, Peg. I’ve missed you something terrible, and you look as if you’re about to drop.’
She wavered and was about to give in when she heard Fran and Suzy coming into the hallway with a burst of giggles and a lot of shushing. ‘I need to have a quiet word with those two,’ she said. ‘It won’t take long.’
There must have been something in her expression, for Jim frowned. ‘What’s the matter, Peggy? Has something happened?’
‘I’ll tell you later,’ she promised. ‘Best you leave this to me.’
He eyed her thoughtfully and then left, saying goodnight to the girls on his way and telling them Peggy was home.
They flew into the kitchen and Fran threw her arms round Peggy and gave her a kiss. ‘It’s so lovely to have you home again,’ she said. ‘We’ve missed you something terrible.’
‘Yes, Peggy, we’re so glad you’re back,’ said quiet little Suzy. ‘We were all so afraid you’d been caught up in that terrible raid on London.’
‘I saw it from the distance,’ she said as they poured the last of the tea from the pot and raided the biscuit tin. ‘Fran, Suzy, there’s something I have to tell you.’ Her tone of voice stilled them and they looked at her warily. ‘I’ve had to tell June to leave,’ she said flatly.
Fran sighed. ‘Oh, God, what’s she gone and done now?’
Peggy told them without mincing her words. ‘I know she’s your friend, so I’ll fully understand if you decide to find another billet,’ she finished.
Fran tossed back her fiery hair, her eyes flashing with disdain. ‘She’s no friend of ours if that’s how she carries on,’ she said. ‘Oh, Peggy. I’m so sorry. What must you think of us?’
‘It wasn’t you I caught in my bed,’ said Peggy. She gave them both a hug. ‘I’m glad you’ve decided to stay. I just hope it doesn’t have repercussions with June between you all.’
‘She always was a bit wild when it came to men,’ said Suzy quietly. ‘You don’t have to worry, Peggy. Me and Fran aren’t like her at all, and we’d never do such a thing to you – not after you’ve given us a lovely home and mothered us and everything.’ She burst into tears.
Peggy found her a handkerchief and gave her a cuddle until she’d calmed down. ‘I know, Suzy, really I do, and you can be sure that I’ve said nothing to the rest of the family. Jim will have to be told, of course, but the others will be led to think she’s decided to move into the nurses’ home.’
‘I doubt she’ll get a room there,’ said Suzy. ‘It’s full to the rafters.’
‘That’s June’s lookout,’ said Fran with a sniff. ‘Come on, Suzy. It’s bedtime. Peggy’s clearly exhausted, and we have to be on duty tomorrow afternoon.’ They said goodnight and ran upstairs.
Peggy dumped the dirty china in the sink, turned off the lights and went in to Jim, who was sitting up in bed waiting for her. She was weary to the bone, almost sleepwalking as she swiftly stripped and pulled on her winceyette nightdress.
‘Come on, me darling,’ he murmured. ‘Climb in and hold onto me. It looks as if you’ve been shipwrecked.’ His smile was warm and loving. ‘Problems sorted?’
‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’ Peggy eyed the bed, realising she could never have climbed into it without him there – not after what she’d witnessed earlier. Pushing that memory firmly to the back of her mind, she slid in beside him and into his waiting arms.
‘I’ve missed you, me darling,’ he murmured, holding her close, his lips buried in her dark curls.
She rested her cheek against his chest, hearing his heartbeat and knowing she was finally home. She closed her eyes. ‘You’re my anchor, Jim Reilly,’ she murmured, warm and soft with love, ‘and don’t ever let me doubt it.’
Rita and Chuck had happily agreed to walk back to the Town Hall while David drove Cissy and Amy and her young man back to Amy’s. He’d promised to come back for Chuck within the hour and drive him back to the American airbase, which wasn’t so far from his own.
Like many other couples, they were strolling along the seafront arm in arm, reliving the evening, and making plans for their next date. The moon was like an apostrophe, playing hide and seek with the scudding clouds, and the waves broke against the shingle, sending diamonds of water into the air. It was cold, but Rita didn’t feel it, for Chuck’s arm was about her waist and she was snuggled into his side. Her very first grown-up New Year’s Eve had fulfilled her highest expectations.
They reached the High Street and slowed their steps as they approached the Town Hall. It was almost two in the morning, but like the other couples drifting by, neither of them wanted the night to end. Chuck pulled her gently into the shadows of a shop doorway and gathered her into his arms for a kiss.
Rita dreamily closed her eyes, forgot about people passing by, and gave into the melting sensations that made her feel weak and pliant. But then she became aware of his hand sliding down from her waist, his fingers gripping her bottom, pressing her tightly against him. She could feel he was aroused, knew that if she didn’t stop this now, things would go too far.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said breathily, pushing away from him.
He resisted and held her closer. ‘Just a few minutes more,’ he pleaded, his hand urgently hitching at her skirt, his fingers finding the tops of her stockings, the soft fles
h of her thighs and the hem of her camiknickers.
‘No.’ Rita pushed him harder and stumbled away from him. ‘I’m not that sort of girl, Chuck.’ She straightened her dress, aware of the amused and curious glances of the people passing by, and furious that he should have taken such liberties.
‘Aw, gee, honey, don’t be like that.’ He smiled at her as he reached for her again. ‘You can’t kiss a guy like that and not expect him to think . . .’
She evaded his outstretched hands. ‘I have a very clear idea of what you were thinking,’ she said, tugging her wrap more firmly about her shoulders. ‘And I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but if you want more, then you should find another girl.’
‘I’m sorry too,’ he said shamefacedly. ‘I should have known you were different.’ He took her hand, keeping his distance, the very model of remorse. ‘I really like you, Rita,’ he said softly. ‘I just got carried away in the moment. Please say you’ll forgive me?’
She eyed him thoughtfully. He certainly looked repentant, but did he really understand that she wouldn’t allow any further liberties? ‘If you promise not to try it on again, then I’ll see you on Thursday outside the Anchor,’ she said.
‘I’ll be there, and I promise to behave, Rita.’
She smiled at him, glad he was being so reasonable. ‘Thanks for a really lovely evening, Chuck.’
‘It was my pleasure,’ he replied, not attempting to kiss her again.
Rita walked away from him, her emotions in turmoil. It had been a wonderful evening, but that little scene had spoilt it somehow – had brought her up short and reminded her of all Louise’s dire warnings. If they had not been in such a public place, could she have handled the situation quite so easily?
She turned and waved to him as she reached the Town Hall steps.
He didn’t see, for he was standing on the street corner, hands in pockets, looking totally unruffled and rather too sure of himself as he chatted to another American.
Rita pushed through the heavy double doors and walked into the hall. She still liked him, found him funny and bright and excellent company, but perhaps, if she was to go on seeing him, it would be best to keep away from dark shop doorways and isolated places from now on. For she wasn’t so naïve as to think tonight’s performance wouldn’t be repeated.