Always in my Heart (Beach View Boarding House 5)

by Ellie Dean

  ‘It will probably taste better in batter,’ she said to Jane as she unwrapped the newspaper and spread it on the floor.

  ‘I don’t care,’ replied Jane, her mouth already full of golden potato chips. ‘I’m so hungry I could eat shoe leather.’

  The batter was crisp and golden around the thick slice of spam, and they dunked this greasy offering in the little paper twist of lurid green mashed peas, and shared the pickled onion. It was as good as a feast, even though they were eating with their fingers out of newspaper. Their mother would have had a fit if she could have seen them now.

  But, in a way, it was all a part of this strange and rather wonderful adventure they were having. Although they were homeless and Aunt Amelia had proved to be a beastly old curmudgeon, they had temporary shelter and warmth and food in their stomachs – and were actually quite enjoying themselves.

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘Oh, do look,’ said Cordelia excitedly, ‘there are pictures in the newspaper of the women and children arriving on the ships in Scotland.’

  Peggy spooned a bit of porridge into Daisy’s mouth and scanned the rather blurred photographs. ‘There are certainly a lot of them,’ she replied, ‘and that’s just one ship. But at least it looks as if they’ve been given a warm welcome.’

  ‘The article says the Monarch docked two days ago, but there’s no list of the passengers.’ She put on her glasses and took a closer look at the hundreds of people who were lining the decks and gave a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know why I’m trying to find them,’ she said as she closed the paper. ‘It’s impossible to see any faces, and I have no idea what they look like anyway.’

  ‘We’ll no doubt get a telegram at some point,’ said Peggy as she finished feeding Daisy and went to warm her bottle of milk. ‘Perhaps we should make a start on their rooms when I get back from the Town Hall?’

  ‘You do enough,’ replied Cordelia. ‘I’ll make the beds and dust around this morning. If there’s anything heavy to lift, I’ll ask Ron to help me.’ She set the newspaper aside and sipped her tea, her expression thoughtful. ‘They’re going to find things very different here,’ she mused, ‘what with the weather, the different money and all the restrictions on travel and food and everything. I do hope they don’t get lost.’

  Peggy tested the heat of the milk on the back of her hand before giving it to Daisy, but her mind was elsewhere. She’d had a sudden dreadful thought and wondered how on earth neither of them had had it before. The telegrams had gone to Cordelia’s old house and to her sister’s – but Amelia had made it clear she would have nothing to do with her brother’s family, and Cordelia’s house was a bomb site. Sybil and her daughters would have no way of discovering where Cordelia was – for the telegram had been sent to Miss Cordelia Fuller.

  ‘What’s the matter, Peggy? Why are you frowning?’

  Peggy shook off the worrying thoughts and gave her a bright smile. ‘Nothing,’ she said, ‘just thinking about all the things I need to do today.’ She couldn’t discuss this problem with Cordelia, who didn’t know that her old place had been bombed, or that her sister had already nastily refused to have anything to do with Sybil or her daughters. This was something she had to deal with alone, but where on earth did she start?

  ‘I’ll clear up everything in here,’ said Cordelia, ‘and then make a start on the bedrooms. If they haven’t decided to stay in South Africa, then they could be here within hours. It said in the paper that they left Glasgow the day they docked and took the night train to London. I wonder if we telephoned the station, Stan might be able to tell us if they’ve arrived.’

  ‘That’s a very good idea,’ said Peggy. ‘I’ll ring as soon as Daisy’s finished her breakfast. Stan knows all the locals, so he’s bound to notice strangers.’

  While Cordelia began to clear the table and start on the washing-up, Peggy finished feeding Daisy. Putting a clean bib over her clothes, she tucked her into the pram and wheeled it into the hall. Picking up the receiver, she waited for the operator to answer.

  ‘Hello, Phyllis,’ she said. ‘It’s Peggy. Could you please ring the station for me?’

  The ringing tone went on and on, then Phyllis came back on the line. ‘Stan must be working on his allotment,’ she said. ‘D’you want me to try him again in half an hour?’

  ‘No, it’s all right, Phyllis. I’ll pop up there later.’

  She went back into the kitchen. ‘He’s not answering,’ she said, ‘so I’ll go up there before I start at the Town Hall.’ Finishing the lukewarm cup of tea, she was about to help dry the dishes when the telephone rang. ‘Maybe Phyllis managed to get hold of him after all,’ she murmured.

  ‘Hello there, me darlin’ girl. How’s things in Cliffehaven?’

  ‘Jim,’ she breathed, ‘oh, Jim, what a lovely surprise. Are you coming home on leave?’

  ‘No, me darlin’,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘We’re stuck up here for a while yet, and there’ll be no embarkation leave for either of us. I’m sorry, Peg.’

  ‘But that’s not fair,’ she protested. ‘Everyone gets—’

  ‘Peg, I don’t have much time, so please listen. We’ve got our orders and I’ll be going further north for a while – can’t tell you where, but it is a Blighty posting, so you don’t need to worry.’

  The relief was tremendous and she slumped against the wall. ‘Thank God,’ she sighed. ‘But what about Frank? Are you still together?’

  ‘He’s going to the Midlands, and will probably stay there for the duration. All I can tell you is we’ll both be involved in repairing bridges and tracks. I’ll write and tell you more soon.’ The pips went. ‘I love you, Peg,’ he shouted down the line. ‘Give Daisy a kiss for me and tell Da we’re both fine and—’

  Peggy clutched the receiver, hoping he might be able to get back on the line, but there was only the disconnected burr. She replaced the receiver and closed her eyes. At least he was safe, and wouldn’t be sent off to some hellhole in Africa or the Far East. He would write soon and she’d know more. But, Lord, how she missed him. How hard it was to hear his voice from so far away and not be able to see him or touch him.

  ‘I know it’s difficult,’ said Cordelia as she came into the hall and took her hand. ‘But at least you’ve had the chance to talk to him – and I’m sure he’ll try again when he can.’

  Peggy blinked away the tears and did her best to be positive. ‘Of course he will,’ she replied, ‘and he’s promised to write, so I’ll have an address of sorts for my own letters.’ She took a deep breath and gently squeezed Cordelia’s fingers. ‘I’d better get on,’ she said firmly. ‘The day’s going to be busy enough, without me standing about here feeling sorry for myself.’

  An hour later Peggy was pushing the pram down the High Street to the Town Hall. Stan had been most helpful, describing in minute detail the two pretty young women who’d obviously come from abroad, and how they’d asked the way to Havelock Gardens. They’d sounded very posh, apparently, and he hadn’t been at all surprised when they wanted that side of town. But he’d been adamant that there was no older woman with them. Peggy could only conclude that if it was Sarah and Jane, then their mother wasn’t travelling with them – which meant they would be feeling very lost and alone. She just hoped to God they hadn’t found the bombed-out house and gone in search of Amelia Fuller.

  She parked the pram in the lee of the wall of sandbags outside the Town Hall and ran up the steps to find the WVS supervisor. ‘I’ll be a bit late starting today,’ she said to the motherly Mavis Watkins, who seemed to have her hands full with a particularly belligerent mother who was demanding instant housing for her and her eight small children.

  ‘I could do with you being here this morning,’ Mavis said after she’d quelled the woman’s demands and sent her off to the Billeting Office. ‘We’re short-staffed, and everyone seems to be in a foul mood today.’

  ‘I’ll only be about another hour,’ said Peggy, and went on to explain her mission.

  ‘Go
odness, well of course you must find them,’ said Mavis. ‘Though they might have been here already, because I got some garbled message from Mrs Frost about two young women staying here overnight. I wasn’t too happy about it, actually,’ she confided. ‘It seems they spent the night in the Mayor’s parlour and didn’t even sign for their blankets and pillows.’

  ‘So you don’t have a name for them?’

  Mavis shook her head. ‘Mrs Frost didn’t think to ask, and there was no sign of them by the time I got here. Sorry, Peggy, but I have no idea where they could have gone. You could try the Labour Exchange, I suppose. They might be registering for ration books and things. And then of course they could be at the Billeting Office.’

  ‘I’m not absolutely sure it is them,’ Peggy confessed. ‘But if a Sarah and Jane Fuller come in looking for help, will you please keep them here until I get back?’

  ‘Don’t worry, Peggy. I’ll make sure they won’t stray again if they do come back.’

  Peggy hurried back out of the Town Hall and headed for the Labour Exchange. She didn’t really think they would have gone there, but she had to make sure. She parked Daisy outside and went into the warm fug of a crowded room where endless lines of people waited to be seen. She scanned the many faces, hoping to spot two young women with tanned skin and brightly coloured berets and scarves – but all she could see were the wan Monday morning faces of harassed mothers, woebegone children and bewildered elderly men and women.

  Having had no luck at the Billeting Office either, she decided to go to Havelock Road and ask if anyone had been approached by the girls. If they had gone there the previous evening and seen the destroyed house, then it was logical they would ask about the occupants.

  Havelock Road was deserted as she pushed the pram along the pavement. She knew that several of the residents had moved out for the duration, but there were still some around, so she went from door to door in the hope someone might have spoken to them.

  When she heard that two young women had been asking for Cordelia Fuller and that they had then asked the way to Mafeking Terrace, Peggy knew it had to be Sarah and Jane. Fearing that they would have been met with a less than friendly reception from Amelia, she hurried back up the hill and made her way along the cul-de-sac to the spinster’s bungalow.

  There was no reply to her knock, but she saw a twitching curtain in the next-door front window and guessed this was a nosy neighbour who probably knew everything that went on in Mafeking Terrace.

  She was proved right, and within minutes Peggy was heading back down the hill towards the Town Hall. It was a good thing Amelia had not been at home, for if she had, Peggy would have given the mean-minded, nasty old cat more than just a piece of her mind.

  She was exhausted by the time she got back to the Town Hall, but there was no one around to help her with the pram. She dragged it step by step up to the door and pushed her way into the reception area. Once she’d parked Daisy alongside the other prams, she went in search of Mavis again.

  ‘They haven’t come back yet,’ Mavis said, ‘but I’ve asked everyone to keep an eye out for them. Mrs Frost has given us a good description, so at least we’ll know them when we see them.’

  ‘Thanks, Mavis. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a cup of tea before I get started on those parcels.’ She went into the canteen and sank onto a hard wooden chair, lit a cigarette and tried to relax. But her gaze remained on the door, her ears tuned to the many voices of the women around her as she sipped the welcome tea and wondered where on earth the girls could have gone.

  Sarah and Jane had woken early, feeling stiff and cold after their night on the chairs. Their sixpences for the gas fire had run out shortly after they’d eaten their supper, and, not wanting to disturb anyone, they’d slept in their clothes beneath the thin blankets.

  The Mayor’s parlour looked rather shabby in the early light, and there was a strong smell of fried food and vinegar emanating from the newspaper, which they hoped he wouldn’t notice. Having tidied away the chairs and disposed of their supper wrappings, they’d gone in search of the bathroom. But the Town Hall didn’t provide such luxuries – only a couple of lavatories – and they were directed by one of the other women to the town baths which were situated down near the seafront.

  They had never used a public bath before and had no idea what to expect. The building turned out to be long and narrow, with peeling paint and small windows heavily protected by metal slats. They paid their money to the elderly woman at the turnstile, collected a towel each and a sliver of rather dubious-looking soap, and found their appointed cubicles.

  There were notices everywhere that water was restricted, and that only two inches were allowed. This rule appeared to be overseen by another woman, who stood by a large array of switches and wheels which seemed to regulate the water flow. No sooner had the bottom of the bath been covered than the wheels creaked into action and the water was stopped.

  The cubicles left little room to manoeuvre. Wooden dividers gave some privacy, but the door didn’t reach either the top of the divider, or the floor. A bitter draught whistled in from the entranceway which made the door rattle against the flimsy latch, and the rough concrete floor would be cold under their bare feet. The bath itself was a great white tub with clawed feet, and several large chips in the enamel – but it looked clean enough, despite the rust marks beneath the taps.

  Sarah hurried to get undressed, putting her clothes on the wooden chair standing next to the bath. Once the water stopped flowing, she stepped in and washed as quickly as possible, her teeth chattering and her skin prickling with the cold.

  ‘How are you getting on in there?’ she called through the divider.

  ‘I’m freezing to death,’ replied Jane. ‘I don’t think this was such a good idea.’

  ‘Me neither,’ Sarah murmured. She used the thin scrap of towel to dry herself and fumbled to dress before she lost all feeling in her fingers and toes. ‘We’ll go and find some breakfast after this. A hot cup of tea or coffee will soon make us feel a bit better.’

  ‘But we still have to find Aunt Cordelia,’ said Jane, her voice muffled as she pulled on a sweater. ‘We can’t just wander about all day.’

  Sarah had realised that, but she didn’t really know how they’d ever find the old lady when they didn’t even know her surname. ‘We’ll go back to the Town Hall,’ she said decisively. ‘The WVS people should be there by now, and they’ll tell us what to do for the best.’

  She sounded very sure of herself, but in fact she was extremely worried. If they didn’t find Cordelia soon, they would have to bed down at the Town Hall again, for it was clear from the sheer numbers of people they’d seen last night that there were very few places to stay in Cliffehaven.

  Wrapped warmly in their second-hand clothes, they gathered up their cases, gas-mask boxes and handbags, returned the damp towels and soap and went out into the bright spring day. But the sun was deceptive, for a brisk wind blew off the sea and seemed to find every inch of exposed skin. Ducking their heads and pulling up their collars, they hurried back up the High Street.

  The Town Hall was seething with life, and Sarah wondered where on earth she should go to ask for help. There were long trestle tables groaning under the weight of clothes and shoes and household appliances; more tables where women were packing boxes with socks and tins and packets of cigarettes; and long lines of patient people waiting outside a door marked ‘Almoner’s Office’. Small children ran about, getting under everyone’s feet and making enough noise to beat a band, and there were prams lined up against one wall, the occupants either asleep or wailing. Several harassed-looking women darted back and forth with clipboards clasped to dark green uniformed bosoms.

  ‘There’s a sort of canteen in that room over there,’ said Jane as she pointed. ‘Let’s get a cup of tea and something to eat, and perhaps the lady behind the counter will tell us what to do.’

  Sarah nodded, grasped her case and followed Jane into the slightly less noisy
room at the back of the hall. Her stomach growled at the thought of food, and she realised that if spam was the only thing on offer, she would be glad to eat it.

  The woman behind the counter was flushed in the face as she did battle with a vast tea urn, and she didn’t look up as they approached her. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute,’ she muttered. ‘Only I’ve got a blockage in the tap, and can’t seem to shift it.’

  ‘Would you like me to help?’ asked Jane.

  ‘Bless you, dear, but no, I think that’s got it.’ The woman looked up with a broad smile of achievement, and then gaped at them in surprise. ‘Goodness me. Are you Sarah and Jane Fuller?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jane with a frown. ‘But how on earth do you know that?’

  ‘Someone’s been looking for you,’ she replied delightedly, as she came round the counter. ‘Come on, I’ll take you to her.’

  They were herded back towards the room where women were swiftly packing cardboard boxes with the piles of things laid out next to them. ‘Those are comfort parcels for our boys who’re fighting abroad,’ the woman explained. ‘Now where is …? Ah, there. Peggy!’ she shouted above the cacophony. ‘Peggy, look who I’ve found!’

  Sarah saw a short, slender, dark-haired woman look up from the box she was packing, and watched in some confusion as the woman broke into a beaming smile and hurried towards them. She had no idea who she was, or why she’d been looking for them, but her smile was warm and she looked very friendly.

  ‘Hello, dears,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m Peggy Reilly, and I’ve been so worried about you. I’ve spent half the morning going back and forth trying to find you, but you’d disappeared completely. Now, which one is which?’

  ‘I’m Sarah, and this is Jane,’ she replied, still puzzled by who this pleasant little woman could be. ‘Are you a relative of our Great Aunt Cordelia?’

  ‘Goodness,’ said Peggy, ‘here’s me rattling on and you’ve absolutely no idea who on earth I am.’ She grinned delightedly at them. ‘Cordelia Finch has been living at my boarding house for several years, and she’ll be absolutely thrilled that you’ve made it here safely.’