by Ellie Dean
Chapter Nineteen
THEY HAD MADE love sweetly and languorously, renewing and confirming their commitment to one another, falling asleep softly bound within each other’s arms. But when Peggy woke, it was to find the other side of the bed empty. She looked blearily at the bedside clock as she prepared to snuggle back under the blankets, and then shot out of bed, appalled to see that it was almost midday.
The house was quiet, but she could see Ron attending to the chickens while Harvey ignored his sharp admonishments and investigated the compost heap. She smiled as she gathered her things together and headed for the bathroom. Life was going on despite everything, and perhaps today she’d be able to get hold of Doreen.
Washed, dressed and ready for what was left of the day, Peggy tried to telephone London without any luck, then went into the kitchen. Mrs Finch was looking rather tired as she dried the dishes and stacked them on the table, and Peggy gently took the cloth from her and gave her a hug.
‘Oh, my dear,’ Mrs Finch sighed. ‘I’m so very glad you’re back. The house just hasn’t been the same, and you wouldn’t believe the shenanigans.’
Peggy smiled. Beach View was so often the scene for some drama or other she wasn’t surprised, but at least the old lady had been spared June’s carrying-on. ‘Let’s leave the drying up for a bit,’ she said. ‘I want to hear what my family has been up to.’
Mrs Finch looked suddenly uncertain. ‘It’s not my way to tell tales,’ she murmured, ‘and no real harm was done.’
Peggy eyed her sharply. ‘I think this calls for a cup of tea and a cigarette,’ she said. ‘Sit down, Mrs Finch. You look a little peaky.’
‘I’m not being sneaky at all,’ the old lady protested.
‘I never said you were,’ shouted Peggy. ‘You look tired.’
‘Oh. Well, I spent the evening playing cards and then stayed with Ena and her sister Mabel.’ She reddened. ‘I’m afraid I drank rather too much sherry,’ she confessed, ‘and don’t feel terribly chipper.’
Peggy found her two aspirins to wash down with her tea and then sat by the range. ‘So,’ she prompted. ‘You were going to tell me what’s been happening since I left.’
Mrs Finch giggled. ‘It was quite funny really,’ she began. ‘You hadn’t been gone more than a few hours before the fun started.’
Peggy listened with growing alarm as Mrs Finch relayed the story of Ron, the pilot, Lady Sylvia, the parachute, and the hidden cache of whisky and cigarettes that had had to be quickly moved elsewhere. She might have known she couldn’t leave Beach View without someone doing something daft. But Ron had proved his bravery and stamina, Cissy and Martin had come through the attack on the airbase, and it seemed Christmas had gone extremely well, with the added bonus of nylon stockings, Sobranie cigarettes and Fortnum’s goodies.
The news that Doris had come round to ingratiate herself with Lady Sylvia came as no surprise, and she laughed as Mrs Finch did a brilliant impression of how the conversation between the two women had gone.
‘Ron was thrilled that Rosie agreed to come on Christmas Day,’ Mrs Finch continued. ‘I think he was getting rather worried that she had another suitor.’ She twiddled with her hearing aid, making it whine quite alarmingly. ‘Some horrid chap called Findlay, I think. Nasty piece of work according to dear Ron.’
Peggy felt a chill. She knew Findlay of old and had thought him long gone. What on earth was he doing back in Cliffehaven? Realising it was pointless to ask Mrs Finch, Peggy helped her adjust the hearing aid and changed the subject. ‘June’s decided to move out,’ she said. ‘She left last night.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ Mrs Finch sniffed. ‘A bit too fond of the men, that one.’ She looked at Peggy over her teacup. ‘I suppose it’s all right to tell you now she’s gone, but I caught her only last week trying to sneak some man into the house.’
‘Oh, Mrs Finch,’ Peggy experienced a deep sense of shame that this sweet little old lady should be involved in such tawdry business. ‘How awful for you. I’m so sorry.’
Mrs Finch giggled. ‘Nothing for you to be sorry about,’ she said airily. ‘I quite enjoyed sending him off with a flea in his ear and giving that hussy a piece of my mind. Just because I’m old, doesn’t mean I’m daft, you know.’
Peggy patted her hand and smiled. ‘No one would ever make the mistake of thinking you weren’t as sharp as a box of knives.’
Mrs Finch sipped her tea. ‘If June’s gone,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘then we can move people about and give poor little Rita and that Louise woman somewhere to stay.’ Her little face puckered with concern. ‘It’s heartbreaking to think of her being bombed out twice. And now that most of the houses around Barrow Lane have been flattened, as well as the asylum, the Town Hall isn’t the nicest place to be with so many crammed in there.’
‘Rita’s been bombed out again?’ Peggy listened as Mrs Finch told her about the asylum taking a direct hit and burning almost to the ground. Looking at the clock, Peggy finished her tea and reached for her coat. ‘Where’re Jim and the others?’
‘Jim’s doing the matinee. He said to let you sleep as long as you wanted because you were clearly exhausted by that awful journey. Anne’s at the hospital for her regular check-up, Cissy is still at Amy’s and Martin is back at the airbase. Fran and Suzy just left for work, and I think Ron’s in the garden.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Oh, and Lady Sylvia is at the hospital discussing the possibility of Christopher going home for his recuperation and physiotherapy.’ She smiled. ‘With so many people in the house I can’t keep up with all the comings and goings.’
‘I’m looking forward to meeting Lady Sylvia,’ Peggy said as she pulled on her coat. ‘She sounds just the sort of woman I’d like.’
‘She’s very similar to you in many ways,’ said Mrs Finch, ‘and doesn’t put on airs and graces like your Doris. She’s fitted in here very well.’
‘No doubt we’ll meet eventually.’ Peggy reached for her handbag, gloves and gas mask box. ‘I’m off to find Rita and Louise. Do we have enough food in the larder, or should I try and find something in the shops to eke it out?’
Mrs Finch nodded. ‘Jim came home with several tins of bully beef the other night.’ Her eyes twinkled with fun. ‘I didn’t bother asking where he’d got them – he’d only have given me some old blarney. There’s plenty of Oxo, potatoes and onions, so I can do a nice hash and mash, with stewed apples to follow.’
‘Would you mind terribly making a start on tea? Only it may take a bit of time to find them both and then get back here and move the rooms round.’
‘Not at all,’ Mrs Finch replied. Her lips twisted. ‘I don’t know how well that Louise will fit in here, though.’
Peggy frowned as she did up her coat and reached for a headscarf. ‘It’s not like you to take a dislike to anyone without reason. What is it about Louise that’s ruffled your feathers?’
‘She’s far too hysterical and dramatic for my liking, and turns her nose up at the first sign of Rita having any fun. I suspect that poor little girl has had to put up with a great deal from that woman – even to the point of having to withdraw her application for the WAAFs.’
Peggy absorbed this new piece of information with a heavy heart. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Finch,’ she said evenly, ‘once Rita’s under my roof, I’ll see she gets all the love and support she needs, don’t you fret.’
The Town Hall was in chaos as usual, with harassed volunteers manning tables piled with donated clothes, household utensils and toys, and racks crammed with coats and jackets, and boxes full of shoes. It was a complete bun-fight as women rummaged, babies wailed and toddlers got under everyone’s feet.
There was no sign of Doris, who was supposed to be in charge, but then that was hardly surprising. The ‘great unwashed’, as she referred to the dispossessed, were merely to be administrated from afar – getting involved in the actual day-to-day running of this WVS centre was not her cup of tea at all. She left that sort of thing to women lik
e Peggy, who happily did several shifts a week.
Peggy smiled, waved back at the many greetings, and hurriedly did a search of the downstairs rooms before climbing the grand staircase to the assembly rooms, where she spotted Rita almost immediately. Standing unseen in the doorway, Peggy watched her for a moment.
Rita was a small, still island in the midst of the bustle, her head bent as she busily repaired what looked like a tear in her overalls. Her hair was shining, her skin was glowing and there seemed to be an air of contentment about her as she ignored the noise and concentrated on her needlework. There was no sign of Louise.
Peggy moved towards her and Rita looked up. Peggy opened her arms, and with a gasp of delight, the girl abandoned her sewing and raced to her, holding her in a hug that had them both stumbling.
‘I’m so glad you’re all right,’ Rita breathed, looking lovingly into her face. ‘When did you get back?’
Peggy smoothed back her riot of dark curls, warmed by the girl’s welcome and the sight of her lively, pretty face. ‘Late last night,’ she replied, ‘and now I’ve come to take you and Louise home with me. It’ll be a bit of a squash, but I’ve got a spare room now, so you don’t have to stay in this bedlam any more.’
‘Oh, Aunty Peg, you really don’t know how much that means to me.’ Rita gave her a watery smile. ‘It’s been a bit of a roller coaster these past few weeks, and it’ll be lovely to have somewhere to call home again.’
‘Beach View will always be your home for as long as you need it,’ said Peggy softly. ‘I’m just so sorry I’ve been away, otherwise I’d have found you both a corner somewhere.’
‘Anne’s had enough to worry about, what with Ron and Lady Sylvia,’ replied Rita. ‘We were fine, really, Aunt Peg.’
‘You certainly seem to be glowing with health despite all you’ve been through. The resilience of youth is a wonderful thing.’ Peggy eyed the two truckle beds that were squashed in a corner. ‘Where’s Louise?’
‘She’s at Goldman’s, but her shift won’t be over for another four hours.’
Peggy eyed the dungarees and flying jacket which were lying on the bed next to a lovely blue dress she could have sworn once belonged to Cissy. ‘Is that all you managed to rescue?’ she asked in astonishment.
‘You can’t risk keeping stuff here,’ Rita said, glancing at Aggie who was glowering on the other side of the room, ‘too many light-fingered chancers. My very best and most precious things are safely locked in the pannier of the Norton, which is at the fire station.’ She gave Peggy a beaming smile. ‘Mr Hicks has taken me on as a driver-mechanic,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I have a week left at the factory first, but it’s ever so exciting, and you’ll never guess, my first outing was to the asylum.’
‘You’ve certainly had a bit of a time, haven’t you? But it seems you’re happy enough.’
‘Oh, Aunt Peg, I am happy, and I’ve got so much to tell you.’
‘Let’s get your things together and tell Louise where you’ll be first.’ She picked up the moth-eaten flying jacket that had somehow survived since the last war and handed it to Rita. ‘We’ll go to Beach View on the motorbike, I think.’
Rita looked at her in amazement, and then laughed. ‘I don’t think you’d find it very comfortable, Aunt Peg – especially not in a dress.’
‘It’s long enough to cover the essentials,’ she said airily, ‘and if Ron can sit on the back of that thing, then so can I.’ She giggled at Rita’s shocked expression. ‘I’ve always wanted to see what it was like, and there’s no time like the present.’
Rita gathered up her few things and tucked her hand in the crook of Peggy’s arm. ‘It’s lovely to have you home again,’ she said. ‘I’ve missed not being able to talk to you.’
‘Well, I’m here now,’ Peggy said with a soft smile, ‘and once we’ve sorted out a room for you, we’ll sit down and you can tell me all the things you’ve wanted to say while I’ve been gone.’
Goldman’s factory was twice the size now his brother-in-law, Solomon, had relocated from London, and the building sprawled across an entire block. Peggy marched in and told the po-faced supervisor, Simmons, why they were there. She waved to Sally Hicks, then hurried to find Louise.
Louise’s face lit up as Peggy told her her plan, and although it was obvious to Peggy that she was longing to quiz Rita about something, she kept silent and quickly handed over the big bag that was stowed beneath her sewing machine table.
Rita put it in the second pannier and then helped Peggy to keep her dignity as she perched on the seat of the Norton, tucking her skirt beneath her and wrapping her coat over her exposed knees.
Peggy was a little nervous as Rita revved the engine, and she clutched her waist as they set off down Camden Road. She grinned at the astonished expressions of the people they passed, and would have waved if she hadn’t been holding Rita’s jacket so tightly. She was fine while they were going in a straight line, but didn’t like it at all when Rita leaned the bike at an angle to take a sharp left then right at the junction.
As they pulled up behind the gleaming Rolls-Royce that was parked outside Beach View, Peggy experienced a rush of regret as well as relief. That had been scary, but fun – perhaps she’d get up the nerve to do it again.
Rita swung off the Norton and grinned. ‘Did you enjoy it, Aunt Peg? I went very carefully so as not to frighten you.’
‘It was a bit hair-raising,’ she admitted. ‘The next time, I think I’ll wear trousers.’
‘Next time?’ Rita chortled. ‘Goodness, you are full of surprises today.’
‘I might need a little help getting off, dear,’ muttered Peggy. ‘Don’t want half the street getting a view of my knickers.’
They were both giggling as Rita helped Peggy dismount with as much decorum as possible, and she was straightening her skirt and adjusting her coat when the front door opened and a very elegant, beautiful woman emerged.
‘That’s Lady Sylvia,’ muttered Rita as she took off her helmet and goggles and shook out her hair.
Peggy was all of a dither as she eyed the immaculate vision standing on her doorstep. What must she be thinking? ‘Hello, there,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m Peggy Reilly.’
Sylvia grinned. ‘I thought you might be,’ she said, coming down the steps and shaking her hand. ‘Delighted to meet you at last. I admire your pluck, Mrs Reilly. I don’t know that I’d be brave enough to ride that.’
Peggy relaxed immediately. ‘Please call me Peggy,’ she said, ‘and I wasn’t very brave at all if the truth be known. I was hanging onto Rita for dear life.’
They smiled at one another, sharing the intimacy of two women of the same age who had found a like-minded friend.
Rita began pulling the bags from the pannier and dumped them on the pavement. ‘I don’t have to be at work until tomorrow,’ she said with an impish grin, ‘so if you’d like a ride on the Norton, Lady Sylvia, you only have to ask.’
Sylvia laughed. ‘I may take you up on that – give me time to think about it.’ She eyed the bags. ‘Are you moving in with us, Rita?’ At her happy nod, Sylvia smiled. ‘How lovely,’ she said enthusiastically, grabbing one of the bags and carrying it up the steps into the hall.
Peggy was warmed by her natural smile and the easy way she seemed to want to muck in – and yet she was intrigued by Sylvia and wondered what her story was. Everyone had a story, and Peggy suspected that Lady Sylvia Anstruther-Norton’s would be very interesting indeed.
Hugging this thought to herself, she followed Rita up the steps and closed the door behind them. ‘It’ll be a bit of a squeeze, but there’s just about room enough for two beds in June’s old room,’ she said to Rita.
Sylvia made no comment on June’s whereabouts, merely raised a fine eyebrow. ‘I’ll move in there,’ she said. ‘My room is big enough for two beds, and I really don’t need all that space just to sleep in.’
‘I can’t expect you to do that,’ gasped Peggy, who’d been told about her paying t
he rent on top of the government grant. ‘Rita and Louise will be fine up there.’
‘I insist,’ said Sylvia, and without another word, went upstairs to her room and began to pack her cases.
Peggy and Rita looked at one another. ‘She’s ever so nice, isn’t she?’ said Rita.
Peggy nodded as Mrs Finch came into the hall and welcomed Rita into the fold. Then she became businesslike, took off her coat and gloves and went in search of fresh linen. ‘I’ll help Lady Sylvia do the bed upstairs, and leave you to do yours and Louise’s. Ron should be about somewhere, he can put the iron bedstead together that he’s stored in the shed, and bring it upstairs for you. Then I think we should have a spot of lunch. It’s almost two o’clock.’
Rita chatted with Mrs Finch for a few moments before she found Ron and asked about the bed and mattress. Then she carried the bags upstairs and dumped them on the landing as Lady Sylvia emerged from the big front room with a cheerful smile.
‘It’s all quite clean,’ she assured Rita. ‘I gave it a good once-over just this morning.’ She didn’t wait for a reply, and hurried up the stairs to the single room under the eaves.
Rita walked into the room and stood for a moment absorbing the tranquillity and familiar scents and sounds of this old, much loved house. Beach View had been a part of her life since childhood, and now it would be her home. She would be safe here, warm and loved and given the encouragement her father would have provided if only he could be here too. Perhaps now Louise would feel more secure, and at last begin to learn to let go.
She took her father’s battered and scarred shoe from her bag and placed it almost reverently on the small mantelshelf. It might look incongruous there, but it was all she had left of him and Barrow Lane, and it made the room feel homelier than ever.