Chapter Eleven
The following days dragged by, their fears tormenting them as they went about their daily lives and pretended nothing had changed. There had been no word of their men, and the news that several ships had been sunk and hundreds had been killed didn’t make the waiting any easier.
Sally found she couldn’t concentrate on anything, and earned a rare reprimand from Mr Goldman over allowing some careless sewing to get passed, which sent her back to her machine in tears. Tears that were duly noted by her friends and enemies alike, and she’d had to dredge up every ounce of will to make light of them and reinforce her position.
Then the longed-for telephone call had come from the Lifeboat Station. The local boats had returned to the rendezvous point and were now making their way home.
Pearl told her to look out for Billy’s father’s boat, the Pelican, and Edie wished her luck before they went off to work. Sally had taken the day off, promising Mr Goldman to work a double shift the following day to make up for it. It was a sunny June day and she’d washed and ironed her sprigged cotton frock with the white Peter Pan collar and cap sleeves, taking a cardigan to keep off the chill wind that still blew in from the sea. With brightly coloured combs in her hair and a dash of lipstick, she felt quite pretty, and hoped John thought so too.
Mrs Finch remained at the house, promising to put the kettle on the minute she heard the key in the door. She had no wish to intrude on what was clearly a private reunion.
It was quite a family outing, with Harvey pulling eagerly on his leash as Peggy and Ron led the way to the seafront. Anne and Cissy followed with the boys, whilst Sally pushed Ernie in his flag-festooned wheelchair. The boys were also armed with flags and kept running on ahead, which made Harvey pull even harder on the lead. Ron had to yell at them to come back and walk properly as Harvey was in danger of strangling himself.
There was already a crowd waiting impatiently by the Lifeboat Station, and the WRVS had set up a canteen, doling out cups of tea and rather stale biscuits for a farthing. Armed with tea, biscuits and cigarettes, the adults perched on the low wall that divided the promenade from the road, and settled down to wait. The boys wheeled Ernie along the strip of promenade to inspect the gun emplacements and annoy the soldiers with their endless questions, but they returned some time later with sticks of chewing gum, which they shared with everyone except Ron, who complained it got stuck in his false teeth.
Almost two hours later a great cheer went up and they were on their feet, craning to catch sight of the first boat. It was the Minerva and, with a sigh of disappointment, they jealously watched the joyful reunion of the Minerva’s crew with their families.
Next to come in was a large motorboat, swiftly followed by the pleasure steamer that, in peacetime, had taken tourists on trips around the bay. And then the Seagull came round the headland, and Peggy pushed her way through the melee to stand on the shingle at the water’s edge.
Sally watched with tears in her eyes as Jim jumped down and swept Peggy into his arms and kissed her passionately. Then she laughed as they were swamped by their children, the boys clinging to him like monkeys, the girls showering him with kisses as Harvey leapt up and tried to lick everyone. Ron, who was not a man to show his emotions in public, stood by his side and kept patting his shoulder, as if to confirm he was not a figment of his imagination.
Frank clambered down and tied the ropes firmly to the posts sticking out of the shingle. Then he threw his arms round Ron and held him in a tight embrace until a pretty, fair-haired woman shoved through the crowd and flung herself into his arms. Sally guessed it had to be Frank’s wife.
The Pelican chugged round the headland, smoke belching from the stack into the blue sky. Sally saw the men on board and sighed gratefully. At least Billy’s father and uncle had returned safely, even though one had bandages round his head, and the other wore a sling.
Sally watched the celebrations, her gaze returning repeatedly to the headland for sight of another boat. But when it came, her spirits ebbed once more, for it beached on the shingle with no sign of John among the exhausted and battered crew. She realised then she didn’t even know the name of the fishing boat John had sailed on – or even if it had come from this harbour. She wanted to ask Peggy, but the family were still celebrating, and she didn’t want to intrude on such a private moment.
Frantic now, she impatiently waited for the celebrations to calm a little and went to Frank, who still had his arm round his wife. ‘You said you knew John Hicks,’ she began.
His happy grin faltered and he regarded her warily. ‘That’s right,’ he replied. ‘You’re Sally, aren’t you?’
She nodded. ‘What boat is he on? Did you see him?’
Frank took his arm from his wife’s shoulders and rammed his hands in his pockets, clearly uneasy. ‘He was on the Little Nell with his dad, his uncle and two cousins,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I saw them when we left, but it was such chaos out there, I don’t remember seeing them again.’
‘But he’s all right, isn’t he? He is coming back?’ Sally’s fear was threatening to overwhelm her, the tears ready to fall, her heart feeling as if it was being squeezed by a giant hand. Then she looked into his eyes and saw something that made her go cold. ‘What is it?’ she whispered. ‘What happened?’
‘I’m sorry, Sally,’ Frank murmured. ‘I heard the Little Nell was sunk.’
‘Sunk?’ she stammered. She covered her mouth with her fingers, blinking up at him through her tears. ‘Are you sure?’
He placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. ‘According to what I heard, Sally – and this isn’t gospel – it went down the day before yesterday.’ His grip tightened as a sob escaped from her and she swayed towards him. ‘But that’s not to say John and the others weren’t picked up by someone else. We managed to fish out the crew from the Jenny, just like many others rescued other crews. I’m sure they’re fine, Sally.’
She wanted desperately to believe him, but something in his eyes told her he didn’t believe it himself. ‘How can I find out what happened to them?’
‘No doubt someone in charge will know. You could try the harbour-master at Dover, I suppose.’ He swiftly looked over the dwindling crowd on the beach. ‘I don’t see any of the family here,’ he said. ‘But that’s not necessarily a bad thing,’ he added hastily as she sobbed more loudly. ‘Every boat has its own mooring, and if they were picked up, they could be anywhere along the coast by now.’
‘I have to find him,’ she managed through a throat constricted by tears.
‘Here’s Peggy,’ he replied, clearly relieved for the support. ‘She knows the Hicks family better than me.’
Peggy put her arm round Sally as Frank quickly explained the situation. ‘I’ve got their number at home,’ she said to Sally. ‘I’ll ring when we get back.’ She turned back to Frank. ‘Would you and Pauline like to come back with us for a cuppa?’
He shook his head. ‘Thanks, Peg, but I’m going home to me bed, where I’m planning on staying for at least a week.’
‘Thanks for bringing Jim back safely.’
He nodded curtly, put his arm round Pauline’s shoulders and walked away.
‘Oh, dear,’ sighed Peggy. ‘It looks as if the rift between them hasn’t been mended. I was so hoping this might bring them together.’ She gathered her thoughts and took Sally’s hand. ‘Come on, let’s get you back and make that call.’
The walk seemed to take for ever, and yet Sally was almost reluctant to arrive at the familiar front door – for Peggy’s telephone call might tell her the worst news, and she didn’t know how she could bear it. On the other hand it could be good news – that John had been picked up and was safe somewhere. This thought lightened her step but, as she followed Peggy into the hall, the optimism fled again.
Peggy didn’t even take off her hat before she grabbed her address book and riffled through the pages. Dialling the number, she listened to it ringing at the other end for what felt like a lifetime. Then she put the receiver down. ‘Betty must be out,’ she said, ‘probably over at her sister’s – but she’s not on the telephone. I’ll try again later.’
Sally didn’t know what she felt, her emotions were so mixed. There was relief at putting off the evil moment, fear that it could only be bad news, and a burning, desperate hope that John was all right and, even now, was making his way home from some distant harbour.
She helped Ernie out of the wheelchair, took his hand and followed Peggy as she made for the kitchen. Hearing Jim’s voice filling the silence, they tiptoed into the room and sat next to one another.
He was drinking the last of the Polish vodka that Alex had given him at Easter. His voice was low, without a hint of bravado – just a terrible weariness that coloured his words and made the scenes he described come frighteningly to life.
‘The weather turned bad, with high winds, thick fog and heavy waves; but the noise was the worst thing. What with the machine guns from the beach, the planes overhead and the gunfire from the destroyers that escorted us, you could barely hear yourself think.’
He paused, took a sip of vodka and grimaced. Whether it was from the burn of it going down his throat, or the images that haunted him, none of them knew.
‘There were thousands upon thousands of men trapped on the beaches,’ he said softly, his gaze distant with the memories of what he’d seen. ‘Apart from our troops, there were Frenchies, Aussies, Canadians, Belgians.’
He was silent for a long moment before continuing . ‘We got in as close as we dared, the machine-gun bullets ripping into the Seagull, sending shrapnel flying everywhere – it was a miracle neither of us got hit. They poured off the beaches, wading through the water that was soon thick with the bodies of their comrades – so thick that they were being trampled underfoot.’
The silence in the kitchen was deathly. They could all see and hear the terrible images he’d conjured up.
‘It was like the Somme all over again,’ he rasped. ‘They were being mown down even before they could reach us. The poor bastards never stood a chance.’
Peggy didn’t even admonish him over his language as she perched on a chair, her face ashen, eyes fixed to him, wide with horror.
‘We dropped anchor and hauled as many as we could into the Seagull.’ His haunted gaze sought his father. ‘But there were too many, Da – we couldn’t take them all, and the boat was shipping water and in danger of capsizing as they clung to her sides, pleading to be let on board. We had to force their fingers off her planking, and leave them in the water, so we could take the lucky ones to the Navy destroyers that waited further out.’
Peggy moved to sit on the arm of his chair, her hand softly settling on his shoulder.
Jim’s voice was lower now, broken with emotion. ‘Then we went back – and back again until we lost count. On and on it went through the night and into day after day, after day. The sea was red with blood, and we could hear them screaming for help – but there was nothing we could do; there were just too many.’
He looked at Ron, his face a mask of pain. ‘There had to be almost a thousand craft out there, naval and civilian, but we couldn’t save them all, Da. We couldn’t possibly save them all.’ Jim’s face crumpled as he buried his face in his hands, the deep, agonising sobs filling the little room with his heartbreak.
Peggy wrapped him in her arms and held him as he wept. The boys crept towards him and clutched his legs as Ron surreptitiously wiped his eyes and Mrs Finch sobbed into her handkerchief. Anne and Cissy sat dumbly, their tears running unheeded down their faces as they watched their big strong father cling to their mother, curling into her like a wounded, terrified child.
Sally felt chilled to the bone, for the images Jim had painted were all too real, and her fear for John was overwhelming. She gathered the wide-eyed Ernie close, needing his warmth and weight in her arms – needing the solace in this, her darkest hour.
‘Did the Germans hurt Uncle Jim?’ he asked, his voice wavering on the edge of tears.
‘No, love,’ she murmured, ‘but he’s hurting inside cos of everything he saw – and sometimes that’s even worse than a bullet-wound.’
Ernie rested against her and closed his eyes. ‘I don’t like it when he cries,’ he murmured. ‘It makes me hurt inside too.’
Sally kissed the top of his head and cuddled him. ‘I know,’ she whispered, feeling the same terrible pain.
‘Come on, Jim,’ murmured Peggy. ‘You’re exhausted. Let’s get you to bed.’ She turned to the girls. ‘There’s a bit of mince for tea. Do what you can while I see to your father.’
The mood was broken and, glad to have something to do to dispel the awful thoughts, Sally and the girls dried their tears and began to prepare the evening meal. Peggy’s larder was still well stocked with the bottled fruit, jam and pickles she’d made the previous summer and autumn, but there was only a handful of mince and two sausages to share among them all – they had to be creative.
Ron collected onions, potatoes and tomatoes from the garden, and cut some parsley and chives from the box he’d made to fit beneath the basement window at the front of the house. His tiny herb garden was flourishing, but the tomatoes were his pride and joy, brought on beneath sheets of glass close to the side garden wall where the sun shone for most of the day. He saved every last drop of used water to keep them and all his vegetables alive.
There was no fat, so Sally dry-fried the mince, chopped sausages and onions while the potatoes boiled. Anne made a sauce with the tomatoes, adding the parsley and chives, some pickled cabbage and a pinch of salt to give more flavour. There was no pepper – it had long since run out and was now affectionately called white gold by the beleaguered grocer whose shelves were becoming emptier by the day.
Cissy laid the table before helping Mrs Finch unravel a particularly large knot in her knitting. The old lady was quiet for once, her expression sad and thoughtful, and Sally wondered if she was remembering the last war, and the husband she’d lost at Ypres. Jim’s descriptive storytelling must surely have conjured up such memories.
The girls worked silently, keeping their thoughts to themselves as the boys disappeared into the basement to play with their train set. But none of the usual bursts of laughter came from down there – it seemed they were all affected by the terrible events of the past week.
Jim didn’t come downstairs for the evening meal, and Peggy assured them he was fast asleep and would probably stay that way until morning. He was exhausted.
‘I tried that number again, Sally,’ she said a while later. ‘Still no reply. I’m sorry, dear.’
Sally nodded and helped Anne clear the dishes and tidy away while Peggy put the boys to bed. In an attempt to dispel the terrible dread, she made a game of carrying Ernie upstairs for his wash. They had become used to having a nightly bath, and Ernie always looked forward to it, but they were encouraged to save water now, so they bathed once a week in the few inches allowed, Sally climbing in after Ernie had finished. Tonight it would be a lick and a promise with a damp flannel for both of them, and a few drops of water in a mug to rinse their toothbrushes.
Having massaged him with the last of the oil, she wrapped him in his pyjamas and snuggled him into bed. She sat in the chair and waited for him to fall asleep, wondering if he’d have nightmares. She could hardly blame Jim, but his description had been all too graphic, and she knew without a doubt that she’d have a disturbed night because of it.
The news was about to start as she returned to the kitchen and, with a nod of welcome to Pearl and Edie who’d just come in and were eating the warmed-up plates of food, she settled down to listen. Silence fell as the deep, well-educated and familiar voice came from the wireless and into the room.
Operation Dynamo had been a resounding success due to the bravery of the Royal Navy, the RAF, and the many civilians who’d risked their lives to bring the men home safely. They had rescued almost six hundred thousand men from the beaches of Dunkirk, Cherbourg, Saint Malo, Brest and Saint Nazaire.
But in his speech to the House of Commons that afternoon, Churchill had tempered his praise for this success by saying that, although huge numbers of men had been rescued, and the bravery of the rescuers was in no doubt, it had been a ‘colossal military disaster’ – and that wars weren’t won by evacuations.
There had been a huge number of casualties, and the British Expeditionary Force had had to abandon vital heavy armour and equipment that would be needed in the coming months. With over five thousand dead, Dunkirk reduced to rubble, two hundred and thirty-five vessels and one hundred and six aircraft destroyed, the consequences of this evacuation could not be yet determined.
Sally saw how Anne paled, and held tightly to her hand. ‘Martin will ring when he can,’ she whispered. ‘He’s probably being debriefed and can’t get away.’
‘I know, but …’ She didn’t need to say any more, and Sally squeezed her fingers in empathy.
The news ended with a speech from Prime Minister Churchill, who darkly warned the nation to brace itself for another blow. ‘We are told that Herr Hitler has a plan for invading the British Isles,’ he said in that now familiar, gravelly voice. But the prime minister’s message to Herr Hitler was resolute. ‘We shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches; we shall fight on the landing grounds; we shall fight in the fields and in the streets; we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender …’
They stood as one and cheered, bolstered by those fine words and the determination behind them, fired up with patriotism and the spirit that would take them to victory.
But as they went to their beds that night, the euphoria of the moment subsided. They didn’t doubt that the cost of victory would be high – but were they strong enough to pay it when it demanded the ultimate sacrifice of losing their loved ones?
Ernie cried out in the night, the nightmares waking him. Sally took him into her bed, and discovered that by giving him comfort, she found solace in the warmth of the little body pressed so tightly against her. But her dreams were troubled, the images of John fighting for his life in a sinking boat too powerful to sustain restful sleep.
Startled awake by the alarm clock, there was an instant when she couldn’t remember the horrors – and then they returned, stark and terrifying to haunt her throughout the day.
Clambering out of bed, she got Ernie ready for school and then dressed for work before carrying him downstairs for a breakfast of thin porridge and toast. Oats were hard to come by, but the local baker had taken on five new workers, and now the ovens were going through the day as well as the night all the while he could get the flour. Another delivery was expected on the Saturday train, and already his order book was full.
The telephone rang and Anne and Sally jumped to answer it. But Peggy got there first, smiled and handed the receiver to Anne. ‘It’s Martin,’ she said, ‘he’s safe.’
Sally swallowed her disappointment that there was no news of John, and returned to the breakfast table. But her appetite was gone and she gave the rest of it to Ernie.
‘Once the boys are at school, I’ll go over and see if Betty’s in, or if her neighbours know anything.’ Peggy patted her hand. ‘I know it’s terribly hard, dear, but I’m sure …’
‘I know,’ murmured Sally, listening to Anne’s happy voice in the hall. ‘If Martin’s come through, then I’m sure John has. It’s the not-knowing that’s so hard,’ she confessed.
The factory was buzzing with the news of Operation Dynamo as Sally, Pearl and Edie walked in. It took some time for everyone to settle, and although there was still too much chatter over the machines, Sally decided to ignore it. She didn’t have the heart to say anything – didn’t really have the heart for anything today.
It was almost the end of the shift when Sally saw Peggy bustle through the door. Her hands stilled and her mouth dried as she abandoned the khaki trousers she was working on and slowly got to her feet.
Peggy was arguing with Simmons. Now she was pushing past him, walking purposefully down the long aisle in the centre of the room as the machines quietened and then fell silent.
Sally couldn’t tell by her expression what news she had – but she wasn’t smiling. She found she couldn’t breathe, and as her legs threatened to give way, Pearl had to grab her arm to steady her.
‘It’s not bad news,’ said Peggy, as soon as she was in earshot, ‘but it’s not particularly good either.’ She reached Sally and took her hands. ‘I managed to catch Betty before she went back to her sister’s place. John’s alive, but he’s been injured and will have to stay in hospital a while – but Betty told me the doctors are sure he’ll make a full recovery.’
‘Oh, thank God,’ breathed Sally, the ready tears blinding her as she all but fell on to her chair. ‘Thank God he’s alive … I thought … I was sure …’
Peggy wrapped her arms round her and held her as the cocktail of pent-up fear and enormous relief finally boiled over into heaving sobs. When the storm was over, she dried her eyes and gripped Peggy’s hand.
‘What happened to him? Is he very badly injured? Can I visit him in hospital?’
‘The Little Nell took a direct blast from the enemy guns. John and the others were blown off her and into the water. John has shrapnel wounds to his back and face, his leg is broken in two places and his shoulder was dislocated. He was one of the lucky ones and got picked up within minutes of the Little Nell going down.’
She fell silent, her expressive face mournful. ‘His father and one of his cousins were never found,’ she said quietly. ‘The other boy and his uncle escaped with just a few bruises and scratches, and will be sent home today.’
Sally stared at her in horror. ‘Does John know about his father?’
Peggy shook her head. ‘He’s heavily sedated, but he’ll be told once he comes round enough to fully understand.’ Peggy took out her handkerchief and blew her nose. ‘Poor Betty is beside herself. She and Stan were childhood sweethearts, you know, and her sister’s boy was only fifteen. I can’t imagine what they must be going through.’
‘Can I go and visit John?’
‘No, my dear, only Betty is allowed to travel to Dover. You’ll just have to wait until he comes home.’
‘But he will make a full recovery?’
‘So Betty tells me.’
‘That’s enough chit-chat,’ boomed Simmons. ‘You’re not even supposed to be here, madam, and you’re keeping Miss Turner from her work.’
Peggy had the light of battle in her eyes as she faced Simmons. ‘You really are the most obnoxious little man, aren’t you?’ she said in her most scathing tone. ‘Don’t for one minute think you can bully me, Simmons. I’ll leave when I’m ready – and not before.’ She held his gaze, and he was the first to look away.
There was a smattering of applause and a few whistles of encouragement from the surrounding women. Simmons went scarlet. ‘Get out of my factory,’ he hissed.
Peggy raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s not your factory,’ she retorted, ‘and I’ll be having a word with Mr Goldman before I leave. I can’t imagine what he was thinking when he hired you.’ With that, she jammed her handbag under arm, hitched the gas-mask box over her shoulder and strode away, head high, seemingly unaware of the admiring looks from the other women and their low murmurs of approval.
She hadn’t quite reached the door to the office when Simmons caught up with her and barred the way.
Sally and the others watched and silently cheered her on as Simmons made what was clearly a grovelling apology, escorting her away from the office and off the premises.
‘Blimey,’ breathed Pearl. ‘Who’d have thought sweet, kind, lovely little Peggy could be such a tartar?’
‘I suspect she has more in common with her sister than she cares to admit,’ laughed Sally. ‘If you want to witness a real harridan at work, you should meet Doris. When she’s in full flow, she’s enough to scare even Hitler.’
‘Perhaps we should send her, and others like her, across the Channel as our secret weapons,’ said Brenda, lighting a cigarette. ‘There’s nothing like a woman on her high horse to scare the living daylights out of bullies.’
Sally sat down that evening and, with Anne’s help, wrote a letter to John. Her spelling was improving, as was her handwriting, but she still had difficulty with the thin nib that splattered ink everywhere and left far too many blots on the paper. The finished article looked as if a spider had crawled across the page.
She deliberately kept the letter short, for she didn’t really know how to express her deep feelings for him, and if someone had to read it to him, she didn’t want him to be embarrassed. Instead of telling him how much she loved him, she sent her condolences for his terrible loss, and told him of her relief and joy that he would soon be well enough to come home. Finishing with a brief regret that she couldn’t visit him, she signed it ‘with love from Sally’ and added two kisses at the bottom.
Sealing the envelope, she dropped it in the letterbox at the bottom of the street. All she could do now was wait for his reply and hope he’d recover quickly so they could be together again.
There was still no reply from him three weeks later, and as there was no way of finding out how he was, Sally had to tamp down on the frustration and get on with things in the firm belief that he would write when he could. But at night she fretted, her thoughts and dreams jumbled and disturbing, leaving her emotionally drained.
As Anne’s wedding day dawned with the promise of sunshine, Sally knew she must put her worries aside and help to make this a special day. With determined cheerfulness, she joined in the chaos as the girls battled to get five minutes alone in the bathroom before they got dressed in their finery.
The car had been taken out of storage and off the four piles of bricks. Jim and Ron had bolted the wheels back on and spent several hours polishing the bodywork and chrome to gleaming perfection before filling it with enough precious petrol to get them to the church and back.
The three boys complained bitterly about having to wear their school uniform on a Saturday. But, as it was the only decent set of clothing they possessed, their complaints were ignored. Ernie’s wheelchair had been decorated with strips of coloured ribbon, and Sally had added a few sprays of forsythia blossom to mark the occasion. The chair would go in the boot of the car in case Ernie got too tired, but it seemed he was determined to use the walking stick. Ron had lovingly carved a dog’s head in the handle, and Ernie was suddenly quite happy to be seen with it.
Sally had put her worries aside, finding solace in the hard work of getting the three bridesmaids’ dresses finished in time. She’d just put the finishing touches to her own dress when the doorbell rang yet again. It was Anne’s friend Dorothy from Cliffehaven Primary, arriving flushed and excited from her honeymoon. She and Greg, her Canadian soldier, had married three days before, and Dorothy was to be Anne’s matron of honour.
Cissy was doing everyone’s make-up and hair, bossing them about so much that she was finally banished from Anne’s bedroom by her mother. Sally got Ernie dressed in his freshly pressed blazer, shirt and short trousers, while Ron polished shoes over a piece of paper on the kitchen table. Jim was sent to the nearby hall to check that the tables had been laid properly with all the food their neighbours had kindly donated for the occasion, and that the decorations were tasteful. Mrs Finch sat like a tiny empress in a comfortable chair in the hall so she could watch the fun until it was time to leave.
The doorbell rang again, and Sally answered it to find Doris on the doorstep. She was resplendent in a silk suit, the fancy hat tipped forward so the brim almost covered half her face. The ubiquitous fur was draped round her shoulders, despite the warm June day. ‘Ted is waiting in the car,’ she said. ‘I hope everyone is ready. Time is getting rather short.’
‘I’m coming,’ called Peggy, making her way carefully down the stairs in her high-heeled shoes. The navy and white suit looked very smart with the dinky little white confection of netting and papier-mâché flowers that perched on her freshly styled hair. The outfit was finished with white shoes, bag and gloves, and Sally thought she’d never looked so elegant.
‘Right,’ Peggy said, determinedly, ‘let’s get everyone in the car. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but the boys can sit on laps.’
‘No boy is sitting on me,’ said Doris. ‘Do you have any idea how much this suit cost?’
Peggy shrugged dismissively as she chivvied Ron and the boys ahead of her. ‘It’s a good thing you’ve got a big car then,’ she muttered, as she stepped outside and regarded the gleaming Bentley.
‘Cor,’ shouted Ernie. ‘We going in that?’
‘Yes, you are,’ said Doris, hastily forestalling him from stroking the bonnet. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t touch anything or scratch the leather.’
Ernie eyed her solemnly. They’d had run-ins before. Then he gave her a huge grin. ‘I like yer ’at,’ he said, before ducking into the car. ‘It ’ides yer face.’
Ron snorted, Doris went pink, and there was a flurry of giggles as the boys piled into the back seat. Sally tried to look stern, but it was impossible. The look on Doris’s face was just too comical.
Once everyone was settled, they were waved away until they were out of sight. Pearl and Edie pushed through the little gathering on the steps and, clutching their hats, ran down the pavement to catch the bus. Billy was home on leave, and would meet them at the church with his best mate, Tom.
Cissy had raided the theatre’s wardrobe for the bridesmaids’ dresses, and Sally had adapted them to suit the occasion. The sequins and beads had been carefully removed from the tight-fitting bodices of the long ballet dresses which she’d dyed candy pink, or blue, or lavender. Using the frothy netting from another eight dresses, she’d dyed them to match, adding enough layers over the muslin underskirt so they couldn’t be seen through. They reached mid-calf to show off slender ankles and shoes that had been dyed to tone with the dresses. Each of them carried a single rose donated by a neighbour whose garden continued to flourish despite the lack of rain.
Sally stood in the hall with Dorothy and Cissy waiting for Anne. When she emerged on the landing and came slowly down the stairs clutching Jim’s arm, there was an audible gasp of admiration.
Anne was radiant, the borrowed veil falling in a cloud about her lovely face from the glittering comb fixed in her dark hair, the lovely dress shimmering as she moved. Her skin was lightly tanned from the early sun, pearls gleamed at her throat and in her ears, and her eyes sparkled with the kind of joy that could only come from a woman in love. She carried a bunch of roses that matched her dress, the thorns carefully removed by Sally, the stems wrapped tightly in the last scraps of the same silk.
There were tears in Jim’s eyes as he gazed in awe at his lovely daughter, and Sally felt a huge lump in her throat. She missed her dad more than ever these days and it was at times like this that the longing to see him again was almost unbearable.
‘You look very lovely, my dear. A truly beautiful bride.’ Mrs Finch got carefully to her feet and handed her a jeweller’s box. ‘Please accept this little gift, Anne. You’re such a sweet girl, and you deserve something extra-special on this happiest of days.’
As Anne opened the box there was a loud gasp from Jim. The brooch was in the shape of a sprig of flowers – but these were no ordinary blooms, for the petals were diamonds, the heart of each flower a dark green emerald.
As Anne drew it out of the box, the diamonds shot fire around the hallway and the emeralds glowed as green as the deepest sea. ‘It’s absolutely stunning,’ she breathed, watching the spectrum of colour dart against the faded paint on the walls. ‘Quite exquisite.’ She reluctantly put the brooch back into the box and handed it back. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Finch, but I can’t possibly accept such a generous gift.’
Mrs Finch firmly pressed the box back into her hand. ‘My husband gave this to me on our wedding day,’ she said, ‘and he would approve of me passing it on.’
‘But it’s—’
Mrs Finch waved away her protest, clasped Anne’s fingers round the box, her own gnarled hands covering them. ‘Your family have taken me in and looked after me as one of their own,’ she said softly. ‘My sons and their families have deserted me, and you have become the daughter I never had, the daughter that I feel blessed to know. This was a token of my husband’s love – now it is my token to you. Please take it, Anne.’
Anne drew her into a gentle embrace, kissing the soft cheek. ‘Thank you so very much,’ she murmured. ‘I will think of you every time I wear it, and I’m honoured you regard me as a daughter.’
Mrs Finch gently moved from the embrace and sat down as Dorothy helped pin the brooch to Anne’s dress where it glittered with icy fire. ‘There,’ she breathed, ‘I knew it would look perfect.’
Jim took Mrs Finch’s hand and kissed it. ‘To be sure, me darlin’, that’s the finest gift I’ve ever seen.’
‘Get away with you, you rogue,’ she replied with a smile, as she gently patted his cheek. ‘I’ve heard enough blarney from you to last a lifetime, so enough of this. We have a wedding to attend.’
Sally realised they were all damp-eyed and getting far too emotional. ‘Come on,’ she said, after clearing her throat and glancing at the hall clock. ‘We don’t want to be too late at the church, and poor Martin must be having kittens by now.’
The ancient church of grey stone and flint had stood in the valley behind Cliffehaven since Saxon days. Surrounded by trees, it serenely watched over the rolling hills and pastures where sheep and cattle had grazed for centuries. As the car drew up to the lychgate and they climbed out, the bells were ringing out their joyful melody.
Dorothy and Cissy fussed with the dresses and flowers while Sally helped Mrs Finch along the cinder path to the church porch where the verger was waiting to escort her to her seat. She waited on the steps as the rest of the wedding party approached.
Jim drew Anne to a halt at the bottom of the stone steps that had been worn by generations of feet. He turned to Anne and kissed her cheek. ‘My beautiful girl,’ he murmured, as he almost reverently adjusted the veil so it drifted over her face. ‘I wish you happiness and all the love in the world on this special day.’
Anne clasped his fingers, sharing a moment of silence with him before she turned to the three girls. ‘Are we all ready?’ At their nods, she took a deep breath and tucked her hand into the crook of Jim’s arm. ‘Then you can start the music,’ she said to the verger, who was hovering in the porchway.
The rousing organ music soared to the ancient rafters as they entered the candlelit church and slowly made their way down the worn flagstones and past the paintings of The Stations of the Cross that lined the walls above the dark wooden pews. The golden eagle glowed above the polished oak of the lectern and the little light in the tabernacle on the altar seemed to beckon as they approached the carpeted steps where the priest waited in glorious robes of red and gold.
Pearl was radiant as she sat next to Billy, who looked very dashing in his Royal Navy uniform. A man of medium height with fair hair and blue eyes, he was looking at Pearl with such tenderness, Sally wondered if there would be an engagement announcement before too long.
Martin and his best man – who sported a magnificent handlebar moustache – were very handsome in full dress uniform, and Sally watched as Martin stepped from the pew to greet his bride. Sally saw the adoration in his eyes and briefly wondered if anyone would ever look at her in such a way.
She hastily pulled her thoughts together as she realised she and the other bridesmaids were being regarded by some snooty-looking woman in the second pew. There were three other people sitting beside her and Sally wondered who they were. Their clothes looked expensive, the furs and hats even more magnificent than Doris’s.
She glanced at Doris, who was giving them the evil eye on the other side of the aisle, and bit down on her smile. It seemed that at last Doris had been outshone.
Their vows were made, the register signed, and the glorious music once again soared to the rafters as Anne and Martin went arm-in-arm back down the aisle. They stopped to greet their guests, shake hands and kiss cheeks; then it was out into the sunshine for the photographs which would be taken by Mr Walters, a retired reporter from the local newspaper.
‘Who are they?’ muttered Sally to Ron, as the rather stately group of four stood to one side of the milling guests looking distinctly uncomfortable.
‘Martin’s parents, his sister and her fiancé,’ he muttered round the stem of his pipe. ‘Stuck-up lot, if you ask me. Could barely give Jim and Peggy the time of day when they were introduced.’
‘But it’s wonderful they came,’ said Cissy, who’d been listening in to the conversation. ‘I mean, it shows they’ve given their approval, doesn’t it?’
‘I wouldn’t count your chickens, girlie,’ he mumbled. ‘People like them don’t approve of much at the best of times. I pity poor Anne having a mother-in-law like that.’
The three of them watched as Martin approached his family with Anne, who was looking amazingly calm and self-contained. He carefully kissed his mother and sister, shook hands with his father and the other young man, and kept tight hold of Anne’s hand as she bore their polite, but faintly patronising, congratulations.
Ron chuckled. ‘There’s no use you getting cross on Anne’s behalf,’ he said to Sally. ‘That girl can handle Doris, so she can certainly deal with that mob of snobs.’ He puffed on his pipe. ‘She won’t let them spoil her day, you’ll see.’
And he was proved to be right. The only sign of friction had come in the churchyard when Doris and Martin’s mother realised with horror that they were wearing identical shoes. This tricky situation was soon resolved by Doris ordering Ted to return home to fetch a second and more exclusive pair she’d bought in Paris before the war. The fact that they were agonisingly tight and difficult to walk in was something Doris would never admit.
The wedding party finally moved from the church to the community hall that was only a short walk from the house. Martin’s family didn’t stay long, for which everyone was grateful – including the groom – and the party lasted well into the night.
Sally noticed that Pearl and Billy had been absent for quite a while, and then she saw them coming into the hall, hand-in-hand, with eyes for no-one else. Her suspicions were confirmed when Pearl rushed over to her a short while later and flashed the small diamond ring on her finger.
Sally leapt out of her chair and hugged her. ‘It’s about time,’ she said and laughed. ‘So, when’s the wedding?’
‘We’re getting a special licence,’ Pearl breathed. ‘So it’ll be within the week while Billy’s on leave.’ She glanced across at Anne. ‘Do you think she’d lend me her dress?’
‘You’d better ask her, but I’ll have to take up the hem – you’re at least three inches shorter.’ She smiled and kissed her cheek, wanting to be excited and happy for her, but deep inside the heartache twisted like a knife.
It seemed everyone was getting married, and here she was alone, not knowing if John would ever come home – or even if he really loved her. She plastered on a smile and joined in the celebrations, but every now and then she thought of John, and the anxiety swept over her like a great wave, and she had to go outside for a breath of air.
Anne and Martin left just before nine to drive to the little country hotel where they would spend the one and only night of their honeymoon before he had to return to base. They left the hall, the numerous cans tied to the car’s rear bumper making an almighty racket as everyone poured into the street to wave them off.
‘Oy,’ shouted Warden Wally Hall, red with anger, moustache twitching. ‘Shut that door – or turn off that blooming light. Don’t you know there’s a war on?’
He was greeted with a raucous rendition of ‘Colonel Bogey’ before the men swept him up and carried him on their shoulders back into the hall. His temper was soon soothed by several bottles of beer and a large plate of food.
Sally felt as if she was back in the East End, and it made her long for her dad – he would have been in his element. There was a lot of noise, the men were getting louder as the drink supplies dwindled; the food was copious, if not a little strange – someone had donated a bunch of carrots, which sat incongruously beside a plate of whelks and winkles and a tin of broken biscuits. The wedding cake was sponge and only one tier, but each tiny piece was devoured slowly and with much appreciation. Cake was a rare treat these days.
There was music too, a group of Irishmen who played piano, fiddle, fife and drum and soon had them all dancing. Sally was whirled on to the floor by the best man who danced with more vigour than expertise, and was then snatched away by Billy’s friend Tom into a mad kind of jig that left her breathless. By the time the party was over, Sally was pleasantly exhausted.
Jim and Ron swayed arm-in-arm down the pavement, their voices raised in a joyous but drunken version of ‘Danny Boy’, as Peggy carried Charlie, and Cissy tried to disguise the fact that Bob had been at the beer. Mrs Finch was flushed with the effects of at least three glasses of sherry, and had fallen asleep in Ernie’s wheelchair, so Sally carried him on her hip as she pushed the chair along the pavement. Pearl and Billy had slipped away some time ago, and Edie was going to a nightclub to dance the rest of the night away with Tom. Dorothy had gone home with her new husband.
‘I don’t think it would be wise to get either of the men to carry Mrs Finch upstairs tonight,’ said Peggy, wincing at the loud singing coming from the kitchen. ‘Let’s put those two armchairs in the dining room together and make her a nest. She’ll be quite comfortable.’
Once the old lady was settled with blankets and pillows, Cissy took the wilting Bob and Charlie down to their basement room and tucked them in. Sally was about to carry Ernie upstairs when Peggy stopped her.
‘You’ve got a letter, Sally,’ she said. ‘It must have come by afternoon post.’
Sally looked at the unfamiliar writing and hope ignited. ‘Do you think it’s from John?’
‘Well, no-one can tell you that until you open it,’ she said, and laughed. ‘Go on, put that boy to bed and enjoy your letter. I’ll see you in the morning.’
Sally carried the sleeping child upstairs, woke him enough to use the lavatory and climb into his pyjamas, and then tucked him in bed.
She made sure the blackout curtains were tightly shut before turning on the bedside lamp and picking up the precious letter. Taking a deep breath, she carefully opened it and began to read.
Dear Sally,
I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to reply to your letter, but until now it has not been possible. As it is, I am dictating this to one of the nurses who has been looking after me so well. My right arm is in plaster, so I can’t write it myself.
My mother and I thank you for your condolences. The loss of my father and young cousin has hit our family hard, and we appreciate your kind thoughts.
My injuries are such that I may be in hospital for several more weeks yet, and the doctor has advised me that I will have to go through a short term of recuperation and physiotherapy before I will be fit to return to work. It is unlikely that I shall be home much before next Christmas.’
‘Oh, no,’ Sally breathed. ‘It’s far worse than Peggy thought.’ She returned to the letter, a little put-out at the stilted way it was written, but accepting he couldn’t get too romantic when someone else had to write it.
My mother has taken Father’s death very hard, and being the only son, it is my duty now to pay the bills and look after her. As it is still uncertain whether I can continue my job with the fire-service, it will be vital to find other employment. Because of this, I must ask you not to write again, or hope that we can have any kind of future together.
Sally stifled her sobs with her hand as she curled in the chair. The pain was deep, cutting her like a knife. He didn’t love her.
Time ticked by and she finally had the courage to finish this awful letter. The words were blurred, but that didn’t soften their cruelty.
I’m sorry, Sally, but I hope that one day you will understand why it is so necessary, and forgive me for any pain I might have caused you. What we had was very special, and I shall carry the memory of it always – but as the weeks have passed and I can see things more clearly, I realise I haven’t been fair to you.
You’re a lovely girl, Sally, but you are very young, and I blame myself for any false hope I may have given you. One day, God willing, you will make some lucky man a wonderful wife – but it won’t ever be me.
Keep safe, sweet Sally,
John.
Sally crumpled the letter in her fist, crawled into bed and smothered her heart-rending tears with the blankets. The agony of knowing he didn’t love her – had probably never loved her – was almost too much to bear.