Always in my Heart (Beach View Boarding House 5)

by Ellie Dean

  He ran back down to the cellar and began to heave the cases of alcohol out of their hiding place, setting them behind the stacked crates so they wouldn’t immediately be seen by Findlay when he next came down here. Then he took several cartons of American cigarettes out of an airtight tub and hid them behind a stack of old magazines which had been used by the mice as a nest.

  Slipping four cartons of cigarettes and three packs of tobacco into his coat pockets, he added a couple of bottles of rum and whisky and then pushed up the lever to close the door on the rest. He didn’t want the police finding this hiding place – it might come in useful at some point – but there was enough evidence down here to nail Findlay, and that was what mattered.

  Ron had turned off the light and was halfway up the stone steps when he saw Harvey stiffen and heard the soft, warning growl deep in his throat. He tiptoed the rest of the way and laid his hand on the dog’s head to silence him. Someone was turning the key in the front door.

  As Ron silently reached the side door and turned the knob, he heard Findlay’s voice and the answering shriek of laughter of some woman. He heard the click of high heels on the flagstone floor as she crossed the bar – and he slid through into the alleyway, Harvey streaking like a shadow behind him.

  Closing the door silently on yet another drunken cackle from the woman, Ron smiled to himself and hurried down the road. Findlay would be occupied for a while yet – but he was in for a very nasty surprise.

  Rita rushed into the kitchen just as they were all about to sit down for tea. ‘You’ll never guess,’ she said breathlessly as she ripped off her helmet and goggles and undid her leather flying jacket. ‘The police are swarming all over the Anchor and carting out boxes and boxes of stuff.’

  Peggy turned from the stove. ‘Any sign of Findlay?’ she asked hopefully.

  ‘Someone told me he’d been arrested along with some woman. They’re being questioned down at the Police Station.’ She washed her hands in the sink and shook them dry. ‘It’s all very exciting, isn’t it? I’ve never seen a police raid before, and it’s drawn quite a crowd.’

  ‘Well, it’s about time he had his come-uppance,’ Peggy said flatly. ‘That one has sailed too close to the wind for too long, if you ask me.’ She glanced at Ron, who seemed to be taking this piece of news very calmly. ‘You don’t seem very surprised, Ron,’ she remarked. ‘I hope you haven’t done anything silly.’

  ‘Me?’ His eyes widened innocently as he opened a fresh pack of tobacco and started to fill his pipe. ‘I’m just pleased he’s been caught at last. Cliffehaven can do without men like him.’

  ‘But if he’s been arrested the pub will be shut and Rosie will probably lose her licence,’ said Peggy.

  ‘I’ll have a word with the police in the morning,’ he said as he eased back in his chair to enjoy the ill-gotten tobacco that was burning very satisfactorily in his pipe. ‘Brenda and Pearl will be quite happy to take over the bar again until Rosie gets back, and I can carry on doing the barrels and seeing to the deliveries and the books.’

  ‘You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you?’ said Peggy with more than a glimmer of suspicion in her eyes. ‘And what if the police revoke the licence anyway and keep the pub shut? What will you do then?’

  ‘Ach, you worry too much, woman,’ he said dismissively. ‘The police don’t want an empty pub on their hands, and Rosie’s done no wrong. They’ll listen to reason from a respectable citizen like me, you see if they don’t.’

  Peggy eyed the tattered shirt, the baggy trousers and whiskery chin. ‘If you want to look even remotely respectable, I suggest you shave and find some decent clothes to wear. Which reminds me.’ She turned and fished a parcel out of her shopping bag. ‘I used some of your coupons to buy you two new shirts. You owe me three bob.’

  Ron bolted upright. ‘Three bob? Good God, woman, what’ve you bought?’

  Peggy turned back towards the stove so he couldn’t see her smile. The old so-and-so had been up to something, she just knew it, and if he’d been the reason why Findlay was now in a police cell, then he’d done the whole town a favour. As to the shirts, they would last, as long as she made sure he didn’t wear them while he was mucking about in his garden.

  She continued to smile as she tested the stew she’d made from boiling a large meat bone with vegetables and pearl barley. Tea was ready.

  Ron had shaved and dressed in his best suit and one of his new shirts, and even polished his shoes. Bundling up his old clothes with a bit of string, he’d tied them to the handlebars and cycled to the Police Station, Harvey’s howls of anguish at being left behind following him down the street.

  It hadn’t taken long to get all the information he needed from his old pal, Sergeant Blake. Findlay would be charged not only with running a disorderly house, but with black-marketeering, tax evasion, and theft. Having several previous convictions for similar offences, he was looking at a very long sentence behind bars.

  With Sergeant Blake’s help, Ron had managed to persuade the Station Inspector to let him run the pub until Rosie got back, and although it would seriously curtail his poaching and the amount of time he could spend with his young ferrets, he didn’t mind the sacrifice. Now he was returning from his visit to Brenda and Pearl, with their assurances that they’d come in and help to clean up the place before they opened up that evening.

  He had everything organised and was feeling very pleased with himself as he cycled back to the pub and let himself in at the side door. It was quiet and still, and now he knew Findlay was out of the picture, Ron was ready to return Rosie’s little parlour to its former glory.

  He changed into his old clothes, rolled up the sleeves of his ragged shirt and looked around. He would start by taking the covers off the chairs and the cushions, then he’d get the curtains down and open the windows to get rid of the stink of Findlay and his tarts.

  Once this was achieved, he found a cardboard box and began to empty the ashtrays and gather up the old newspapers and magazines that were lying around. The discarded bottles filled three crates, and in the tiny kitchen he found enough empty cans and packets and old fish and chip wrappings to almost fill the dustbin. He found a bra and a pair of lacy knickers stuffed down the back of the couch, and these went straight in with the rest of the rubbish.

  He had to steel himself to go into Rosie’s bedroom, for he’d never been in there before and felt like an interloper, and dreaded what he might find. But Findlay was obviously particular about where he slept, for the room was surprisingly tidy and his clothes were neatly hung in the wardrobe or folded into a drawer.

  The sprigged wallpaper was a bit faded, but it was as feminine and pretty as the curtains and eiderdown. There was the wardrobe and a dressing table, and the window looked out over the scrap of back garden beyond the rooftops to where a line of glittering blue formed the horizon between sea and sky.

  Ron stripped the bed, flung the windows open to get rid of the man’s smell and then added the curtains to the pile of washing. Findlay’s clothes didn’t take long to pack in the two suitcases he’d found on top of the wardrobe, and Ron tossed in the hairbrushes and the collection of tiepins, collar studs and cufflinks he found in a dish on the dressing table.

  He tried not to linger over Rosie’s dresses and coats hanging in the wardrobe, or her sweaters and blouses and delicate underwear which were still neatly folded in the chest of drawers. He missed her so much that it was a physical ache. Despite the fact that she’d left without any explanation or goodbye, he had to keep believing that she still loved him back.

  Needing to expunge Findlay from Rosie’s flat, Ron swept everything off the shelves in the bathroom straight in with the rubbish. He laughed out loud when he discovered a spare set of false teeth hidden in the dressing-gown pocket, and felt an enormous amount of satisfaction when he committed them to the rubbish bin. The little rat would just have to manage with one set from now on, for Her Majesty’s prisons would provide a shaving kit and flannels, bu
t he doubted very much that they would stretch to new dentures.

  Having finished packing the suitcases, Ron was about to fasten and buckle the straps when he caught sight of a book on the bedside table. He was surprised the man had time to read, and was intrigued to see what sort of thing he liked. He picked it up, saw that it was some cheap western with a lurid cover and tossed it into the case. But as the pages fluttered something fell out and slid to the floor.

  Ron stood looking at it for a long while, and then slowly bent to pick it up. The envelope had been opened but it was addressed to him, and the handwriting was unmistakably Rosie’s. He closed his eyes against the tears of rage and took a moment to find calm again. If he’d had a moment of doubt over grassing on Findlay then this was his redemption.

  Sinking to the floor, he drew out the sheet of paper which had the scent of her still on it. It was dated the day she’d left Cliffehaven.

  My dearest, dearest Ron,

  I’m so sorry if I’ve hurt you these past weeks, but when I explain what has been happening, I hope you will understand and forgive me.

  My husband’s family have become very religious since Jack was committed to the insane asylum, and have never approved of me moving so far from him and trying to make a new life for myself. They have always felt that, as Jack’s wife, I should keep close and carry on as if things might get better and that we could live as husband and wife again. This is not even a remote possibility – in fact there has been little evidence up to now to show that he even knows who I am. But I can understand how his parents need to believe that their son isn’t doomed to spend the rest of his tragic life in a secure cell.

  Their last letter was extremely upsetting, for they accused me of abandoning Jack and taking up with another man. They quoted long passages from the Bible, calling me a Jezebel and the devil’s harlot, and warned me that my sins would find me out, and that I’ll burn in eternal hell if I don’t repent. I don’t believe in all that tosh, but it still upset me to realise how little they respected me after all these years. I don’t know if someone told them about you, or whether they picked it up from my letters, because I realise now that I must have mentioned you many times over the past months. But it made me stop and think. I need to distance myself from you so that I’m not distracted by my feelings for you. Am I being fair to you, to Jack, or to myself, by loving you when I know there can be no future for us all the while Jack is still alive? I cannot wish my husband dead, Ron, for I loved him once, and owe him my loyalty.

  I would have come and told you all this if I’d had the chance, but the sudden turn of events means I have to leave Cliffehaven almost immediately, and I have to trust my brother to give you this letter, which comes from my heart.

  I received a telephone call an hour ago, and I am writing this while I wait for Tommy to arrive so I can leave him in charge of the pub and catch the last train. Jack’s hospital took a direct hit and only a few of the patients and staff got out alive. The survivors have been moved to another secure hospital, but Jack was completely traumatised by the air raid, and the doctor who rang told me that he’d begun calling out for me, begging me to come and save him.

  Of course I agreed to go to him immediately, but I’m frightened by what I might find, and have no idea how long I shall be away. I will be staying in a boarding house I’ve used before, and the address is at the top of this letter.

  I do love you, Ron, even though I know I shouldn’t, and if you can forgive me for the way I’ve treated you recently, then please write. I need your friendship, love and support more than ever now, and I’m fearful that I might have lost it.

  Rosie x

  Ron sniffed back his tears and tenderly tucked the letter back in the envelope and placed it in the breast pocket of his shirt. His first instinct was to catch the next train out of Cliffehaven and rush to be with her. But reason slowly took over and he knew that was not only impossible, but unwise. Rosie needed to come to terms with what was happening to her poor insane husband, and he had to stay here and look after the family.

  He fastened the straps and buckles tightly round the cases and vented all his frustration and fury on them by throwing them as hard as he could down the stairs. He stomped after them and kicked them into the cellar, where he hoped they’d rot. Slamming the door on them and feeling much better, he checked the time. A letter could take days to get to her, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her all alone and believing he hadn’t cared enough to reply.

  Locking the side door behind him, he swung onto his bike and set off for the Post Office. He would send her a telegram to say he’d only just got her letter, and that there was nothing to forgive. Then he would rope in Peggy and any of the other girls who might be at Beach View and get stuck into cleaning up the Anchor, ready for this evening’s session. There was nothing like a bit of hard work to blow away the cobwebs.

  He was grinning like a Cheshire cat as he sped towards the Post Office. Life was suddenly bright again, and once he’d given the two London tarts the sack and everything was clean and shipshape at the Anchor, with Brenda and Pearl installed back behind the bar, he would sit down and write his darling Rosie a long, long letter.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sarah had begun to fear that she hadn’t got the post with the WTC. It was almost the end of March, and Mr Cruikshank had told her that the Corps was due to be up and running by April, so their choice of candidate would have to be made within ten days. Now there were only three days left to this deadline, and hope was fading.

  Jane must have seen her worried expression, for she came over to the bed and gave her a quick hug. ‘Don’t worry, Sarah,’ she said. ‘They would be very silly not to employ you, and I’m sure you’ll hear soon.’

  Sarah kept her doubts to herself as she hugged her back. It was four in the morning and Jane had lost none of her enthusiasm for the dairy. In fact she was relishing the responsibility of doing her job well, and was excited about the pay packet she would receive at the end of this first week. Sarah didn’t want to put a damper on things by voicing her worries.

  After Jane had left for the dairy and her beloved Mabel, Sarah lay in bed for a while longer in the hope she might get back to sleep. But her thoughts were whirling and making her restless, and she eventually gave up on the idea and threw off the blankets. Shivering with the cold, she quickly dressed and slipped on her new shoes.

  She had dithered over buying them, for although they were wonderfully comfortable, they’d been quite expensive. And then she’d rummaged through her handbag and found a pound note she must have tucked away in the inside pocket and forgotten about. Without further hesitation, she’d bought the shoes and worn them home, stopping on the way to donate her Glasgow ones to the WVS. Someone with smaller feet would appreciate them.

  The room was icy, for they’d run out of sixpences for the meter, and had decided it was wasteful to use their last bit of money on such things while there was a lovely warm kitchen downstairs. She quickly made the beds and tidied away Jane’s clothes which had been strewn about the room, and then hurried into the bathroom. If there was no letter for her today then she would have to go back and see Vera. She simply couldn’t afford to be out of work any longer.

  Peggy came into the kitchen an hour later with a red-faced and squalling Daisy in her arms. ‘Thanks for laying the table and starting on the breakfast, Sarah,’ she said above the racket. ‘Pour me a cuppa, dear, while I sort this one out.’

  Sarah poured the tea and hurried to fill the washing-up bowl with warm water as Daisy continued to yell. A bath usually soothed her, but she was clearly in a grumpy mood this morning, which was unusual.

  As Peggy gulped down the tea and then wrestled to undress the baby, Sarah had a sharp image of her mother. Where was she now? Had she and the baby survived? Were they safe – and how was her mother coping without their beloved Amah to help? There had been no word from any of them, only disturbing rumours of massacres, torture and imprisonment – not just of
Government officials and military men, but of women and children too. As time had gone by, it was getting harder to believe that any of them could have survived.

  Peggy had swiftly washed the still squalling Daisy and wrapped her in a towel. ‘Would you put some porridge in her bowl, Sarah? Perhaps if she’s eating she’ll stop making such a noise. The whole house must be awake by now.’

  Sarah put some porridge in the little bowl which had Peter Rabbit running round the rim, and added a couple of drops of cold milk to cool it down. ‘Something’s certainly upset her this morning,’ she murmured sympathetically.

  Peggy fastened the terry-towelling nappy with a large pin and pulled some waterproof pants over it. ‘She’s teething,’ she said grimly as she wrestled to get the baby’s clothes on, ‘so we can expect this for a while yet.’ She took the bowl and spooned some of the porridge into the wailing mouth. Blessed silence fell as the baby clamped her tiny jaws around the spoon and rubbed her gums against it.

  Sarah could see the high colour in the baby’s cheeks and the almost frantic way she was gnawing at that spoon. ‘Poor little mite,’ she murmured. ‘It must be agony.’

  Peggy nodded as she held onto the spoon to stop Daisy from ramming it down her throat. ‘I’ll have to get a teething ring from the chemist. These old spoons are probably too sharp, and I don’t want her to cut herself.’ She looked over at Sarah. ‘What are your plans for the day?’

  ‘I thought I’d go down to the recruiting office and see Vera. She said there were lots of administration jobs going, and I can’t sit about here doing nothing while Jane’s at work.’

  Peggy smiled. ‘There are plenty of jobs here to keep you occupied until you find something that suits you – but I can understand you must be feeling rather at odds with things now Jane is the breadwinner.’

  Sarah nodded. ‘It’s not a situation I ever envisaged,’ she admitted with a wry smile. ‘Mother and Pops never expected Jane to do more than perhaps help out at the local kindergarten, or get involved in some sort of charity work. I’ve always been her big sister – her guardian, if you like – and I was expected to work for Pops and be the responsible one should anything happen to my parents. It feels very strange to have the shoe on the other foot.’