Chapter Twelve
‘It feels odd without Pearl and Edie in the house,’ murmured Peggy. Like Anne and Mrs Finch, she was sitting in a deckchair on the only patch of back garden that hadn’t been planted with vegetables. It was a hot August day and they were shelling peas and slicing beans.
‘Yes, I quite miss Pearl’s chattering. I wonder how Edie’s getting on in Wiltshire? I never had her down as a country girl, but at least she’s got her mother and sister with her. It must be a relief to know they’ve escaped Croydon now the real bombing’s started.’
Peggy continued slicing beans. ‘At least Pearl still visits. I think she gets lonely in that little house with Billy away, and it’s nice to have her here.’ Her hands stilled and she stared across the garden. ‘She’s asked Sally to move in with her, you know – and although I’ll miss her and Ernie terribly, I’ve encouraged her to make a fresh start. I think it’s a good thing. I worry about that girl, I really do,’ she finished on a sigh.
‘Yes, she seems to have lost her sparkle since she got that letter from John.’
‘I suspect he broke things off. It can be the only explanation.’
‘Poor Sally,’ Anne sighed. ‘I do feel for her. It’s been almost two months, and yet I still catch her crying in some corner where she thinks no-one can see.’ She slit the pod and thumbed the peas into the bowl with some asperity. ‘I’m surprised at John letting her down like that. He seemed really taken with her.’
‘I agree. And that’s why his ending things doesn’t feel right.’ Peggy finished slicing the beans and put down the bowl. Adjusting Mrs Finch’s sunhat so she wouldn’t get sunburnt as she dozed, she leant back in her chair. ‘I’ve tried contacting his mother, but the neighbour told me she’d gone down to Devon and rented a place there while he’s in the convalescent home. She has no idea when they might get back.’
She sighed and sank lower in the deckchair. ‘The officer in charge at the fire station wasn’t much help either – but I got the feeling he knows more than he’s letting on.’
‘It sounds as if his injuries are worse than we thought,’ murmured Anne.
‘I wondered that,’ she replied, turning her face to the sun, relishing its warmth. If she closed her eyes to the bomb-damaged garden wall and the missing roof of the house next door, it could almost be like a normal summer. ‘But with no-one to ask, we’ll have to wait until he gets back to find out what really happened.’
‘After listening to Dad’s horror story, it’s a miracle anyone survived Dunkirk. But with the terrible bombing over the past week, it feels as if we’re all living on a knife-edge – especially those of us with sweethearts in the Air Force.’
Peggy regarded her daughter through her lashes. The girl still had the glow of a woman in love, but she knew she was finding it hard to be living at home still, never knowing when she might see her husband again. ‘When do you expect him to get leave?’
‘I have no idea,’ sighed Anne. ‘His squadron are on constant alert, and they’re flying almost daily missions. When he does have leave he’s so fired up and impatient to get back to the airfield, I wonder why he bothers – but he’s exhausted, Mum, and spends most of his leave asleep.’
‘Poor man. They must all be under a terrible strain now the bombing raids have increased and the shipping in the Channel is coming under fire.’
Anne nodded. ‘It’s not just the men who are stressed,’ she replied, softly. ‘Every time I hear the planes take off, I wonder if it’s Martin, and if I’ll ever see him again.’
Peggy grasped her hand. She had no words that could comfort her daughter, even though she longed to take away the awful anxiety she could see in her eyes. This war had a lot to answer for.
‘It was nice to see Alex again the other night,’ said Anne, breaking the silence and changing the mood. ‘He seems less intense somehow; perhaps it’s because he’s been given a squadron to lead and finally feels he’s a real part of the action – instead of being stuck on base, training the young ones.’ Anne blinked in the sunlight, her eyes suspiciously bright. ‘And they are young, Mum, so very young, with only a few hours of flying time under their belt before they’re sent out into the thick of it.’
Peggy had no intention of letting the conversation deteriorate into sadness again. ‘Alex was certainly more cheerful over supper – but I suspect that had something to do with the vodka he brought.’ She chuckled. ‘Jim and Ron were absolutely legless by the end of the evening, but his gifts of sugar, butter and flour were a godsend now the rationing is getting even tighter – and I can understand that they all needed to let off some steam.’
‘He and Martin get on very well, and Martin says the Poles are the bravest, most daring pilots he’s had the privilege to fly with.’ She smiled. ‘They seem to lead charmed lives, but they have the most awful prangs – and with so few aircraft available, Martin wishes they wouldn’t be quite so gung-ho.’
‘I didn’t like to spoil the mood the other night by asking about Alex’s family. I don’t suppose Martin knows if he’s had any further news of them?’
‘I asked Martin, and he said there’d been no post for Alex since that last awful letter from his sister. But those who still have contacts inside Poland say that things have reached crisis point.’
‘Then we must make sure he knows he has a home here, and people who care for him. Tell Martin next time you see him, and make it clear that Alex is welcome at any time – although I’m sure he already knows that.’
Anne was about to reply when they heard the latch click on the back gate. ‘Granddad must be back from his hunting trip,’ she muttered. ‘Let’s hope he’s got a pheasant, or something for the pot, or we’ll be eating vegetable soup again.’
But it wasn’t Ron who stepped into the back garden. It was someone quite different, and it was clear right from the start that things at Beach View were about to change – and not for the better.
Sally loved being in the hills with Ron and the boys. She’d found freedom in the vast expanse of empty land, and a sense of well-being which came with the salty wind that blew from the sea even on the warmest days. Out here in these great rolling hills and deep valleys, Sally had found an inner peace, and discovered a side to her that she had never suspected she’d possessed. For here she felt at home – at one with the grandeur.
It hadn’t always been so. The first time Ron had persuaded her to join them she’d been wary of that emptiness, of the feeling of isolation and danger that seemed to lurk in the dark thickets and spiny gorse. And yet, guided by Ron’s knowledge and calm education, she’d gradually begun to understand and appreciate that this wild, empty land was not only beautiful, it could enchant and provide.
Now the crowded, poor streets and alleyways of Bow were a world away, and she wondered if she could ever return there – could ever survive the smog after breathing such clean, clear air, and feeling so free.
She tramped purposefully up the hill in the old dungarees she’d cut down to fit, the hessian sack of firewood heavy on her back. Her leg muscles no longer complained and her breathing was steady. These regular outings after the long stints at the factory were making her strong, and her mirror told her she’d been tanned by the sun and looked healthier than ever. But the sadness inside lingered, and she tried not to think of John – yet every now and then she wondered where he was, and whether he ever thought of her.
‘It’s not a race,’ muttered Ron, who was striding along beside her, Ernie on his shoulders, two brace of poached pheasant hidden in his pockets and a hare in his hand. ‘Take time to look around you, Sally. You never know what you might be missing.’
He nodded towards Bob and Charlie, who had smaller sacks of twigs and were racing ahead of them, Harvey at their heels. ‘Their only thought is for their tea,’ he said, ‘but at that age they’re always hungry.’
She grinned at him, hitched the sack more comfortably over her shoulder and slowed her pace. She was hungry too, but the pleasure of taking in her surroundings made her forget that hunger as she gazed about her. Because of Ron, she and Ernie could now name most of the wild flowers that grew in the windswept grass – could recognise rose-hips, sloe, elderberry and blackberry, and distinguish the different calls of the birds, from the creaky-gate cry of the pheasant to the melody of the song thrush. They collected berries now it was summer, and Ron had carefully taught them which mushrooms to pick last autumn. Nature’s larder provided many a treat – and it was all free.
In the spring, Ron had taken her and the boys to watch fox cubs and badgers at play, and very early one morning he’d led them to the edge of a silent glade, where they’d sat entranced as a magnificent stag had warily led his doe and fawn to drink from a dew pond. They were sights and memories that would stay with her for the rest of her life.
As they breached the final hill before home, she heard the rapid hammer-drill of a woodpecker along with the soft coo of the wood pigeons. In a world of turmoil, this countryside she had come to love was an oasis of peace, and she would always hold a special place in her heart for this old man who so generously shared it with her.
She turned her thoughts to Pearl and their plans for the following weekend, when Sally would move out of Beach View and into the little terraced house Billy had inherited from his grandfather. She was excited at the prospect, hoping that a change of scenery would help her to forget John and get on with her life. Her home-dressmaking business could flourish in Pearl’s front parlour, they could share the care for Ernie; and when Billy came home on leave, Peggy had assured her she could always return to Beach View for as long as she wanted. For someone who’d had so little before she’d arrived in Cliffehaven, Sally felt blessed.
The sack seemed to grow heavier the nearer they got to Beach View and, as Ron lifted Ernie down and the boys pushed through the back gate, she gratefully took it from her back and dragged it into the garden.
‘Blimey, Sal. You look like some gyppo. What you done to yerself, gel?’
Sally froze in shock as the heavily made-up peroxide blonde rose from the deckchair and smoothed away the creases in the garish red and orange summer frock that clung to every curve. ‘Mum?’ she managed, hitching the dungaree strap back over her shoulder. ‘What you doing here?’
‘Well, that’s nice, ain’t it? I come all the way from the Smoke, and all I get is “what you doin’ ’ere?”’ She folded her arms, the plastic bracelets clacking on her wrists. ‘Ain’t yer even gunna say hello, then?’
‘Mum, Mum.’ Ernie was struggling to reach her. ‘I knew you’d come,’ he yelled, as he hobbled towards Florrie, flung his arms round her hips and buried his grubby face in her frock.
‘Hello, luv,’ she cooed, patting his shoulder and kissing the air above his head. ‘At least someone’s glad to see me,’ she said, her accusing gaze aimed at Sally.
‘You took your time getting here,’ retorted Sally. ‘It’s nearly a year since we left, and neither of us has heard a thing from you since.’
‘I ’ad things to do,’ she said airily, ‘and you know I don’t find writing and stuff easy.’ She grimaced as Ernie sniffed and buried his head deeper into her side.
‘You could have got someone to write a card for you – you could even have telephoned. I put the number on my letters. Didn’t you get them?’
‘Course I did, but I ain’t got time to mess about reading letters and making phone calls. There’s a bloody war on, or ’adn’t you noticed?’
‘Did you send our address to Dad? Have you seen him?’
‘He ain’t been ’ome much,’ she said rather vaguely. ‘But ’e knows where you are, right enough.’ Florrie prised Ernie’s dirty hands from her hips with a look of disgust. ‘Go and ’ave a wash, mate. You’re filthy, and this is a new dress.’
Ernie’s little face collapsed with disappointment. ‘But I …’
‘Just do it, Ernie.’ Florrie’s blue eyes flashed and the bright smile disappeared as her red lips formed a thin line and she nudged him away.
‘There’s no need to talk to him like that,’ Sally said grimly as she steadied him.
‘’E’s my kid. I’ll talk to ’im any way I want.’ She examined the damage to her frock and brushed at the smears of dirt on the material.
‘It’s a pity you didn’t remember he was yours when we left London,’ retorted Sally. She smiled at Ernie, who was now hovering by the basement door. ‘Go and wash, love, then come back to me for a cuddle.’
‘You’re making that kid soft,’ said Florrie. ‘He’s far too old to be ’aving cuddles. What is he now – eight, nine?’ She sniffed derisively. ‘Still a skinny little runt. All this sea air ain’t done much for ’im, ’as it?’
‘He’s only just seven,’ Sally replied evenly, her anger firmly controlled. ‘He’s thin because he’s not been well – but on the whole he’s far healthier than he ever was back in Bow.’
‘If you say so.’ Florrie sat down in the deckchair. Crossing her legs, she revealed a good deal of shapely thigh and the tops of her stockings. She shot a glance at Ron. ‘Ain’t you gunna introduce me then? That old geezer looks like ’e’s about to ’ave an ’eart attack at the sight of a decent pair of legs.’
‘The name’s Ronan Reilly,’ he said with a glower, ‘and I’ve seen more tempting bits of meat on a butcher’s block.’ He grabbed the sacks of kindling and stomped off to his shed where Bob and Charlie were watching with avid interest.
‘Well, of all the …’
‘You asked for that,’ said Sally, biting down on a smile. Ron’s judgement was pinpoint accurate as usual – he’d take no nonsense from Florrie.
Sally pulled the scarf from her hair and mopped her sweaty face before stuffing it into the pocket of the dungarees she always wore when Ron took her up into the hills. ‘If Dad knows where we are, why hasn’t he come to see us?’
‘How should I know?’ Florrie smoked her cigarette with fierce intensity. ‘He ain’t ’ome that often, and it’s difficult to get down ’ere,’ she said less aggressively. ‘I got no idea where ’e is at the moment – but I think ’e’s on the convoys.’
Sally felt a stab of disappointment. She’d been hoping for news of her father, but Florrie was clearly not interested in anyone but herself. She eyed the empty deckchairs and sat down. ‘Where is everyone?’
Florrie squashed the cigarette butt beneath the toe of her high-heeled sandals, the tarnished ankle bracelet glittering in the sun. ‘Peggy took that old biddy indoors, and Anne’s getting some drinks.’ She folded her arms and eyed her daughter steadily and without approval. ‘You’ve changed,’ she said flatly, ‘and what’s with all the posh talk? You ain’t my Sal no more.’
‘I stopped being your Sal that day you couldn’t be bothered to come to the station to see us off,’ she said evenly. ‘And yes, I’ve changed. There’s nothing wrong in trying to improve myself.’
Florrie snorted. ‘Improve yerself?’ she sneered. ‘Where’s that gunna get yer, eh? Some poxy job in a factory, and a room in this dump.’
‘It’s not a dump,’ she retorted. ‘Peggy’s given me and Ernie a real home, and shown us more affection in the last year than you ever have. Compared to our place in Bow, this is a palace.’
‘You’re an ungrateful little cow,’ snarled Florrie. ‘Me and yer dad did the best we could, but it ain’t easy tryin’ to manage without a man in the ’ouse ’alf the time and a sick kid to bring up.’
Sally was about to remind her that it was she who’d brought up Ernie, when he came out of the basement and hesitantly approached them. Keeping her anger well hidden, she lifted him on to her lap and held him close. ‘What are you doing here, Mum?’ she asked again.
‘I got bombed out, didn’t I? ’Ad to move in with a friend.’ She lit another cigarette, studiously avoiding Sally’s gaze.
Sally had a fleeting image of that street lined with tenement houses, the factory and the gasworks looming over them. ‘How bad was it?’
Florrie shrugged. ‘Bad enough. ’Alf the bleedin’ street’s gorn. We was lucky we was all in the public shelter, else we’d ’ave all copped it. The gasworks went up along with the factory – so I was out of work as well as on the bleedin’ streets.’
Sally could imagine the devastation, despite having seen only a glimpse of it here in Cliffehaven. ‘Solomon’s has gone?’
‘He’s setting up down ’ere with Goldman. They’ve bought the place next door evidently, and that’s why I come down. I gotta job there.’
Sally’s spirits plunged further. ‘That’s where I’m working,’ she said softly. ‘Goldman made me line-manager.’
‘Blimey.’ The blue eyes regarded her without affection. ‘Comes to something when me own daughter gets to be management – talk about changing sides.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘I ’ope you don’t think you’re gunna lord it over me, gel, cos I won’t stand for that.’
‘I’ll make sure you’re in a different section,’ she said hastily. ‘It won’t help either of us once the other girls know we’re related. They’ll think I’ll be doing you favours.’
‘I don’t need no favours from you,’ she said with a sniff. ‘Solly’s promised to set me up nice and tight in the cutting department where I can earn some decent money.’
‘But you ain’t – aren’t a cutter.’
‘I been learning.’ Her gaze was flat, her expression determined.
Sally eyed her as her thoughts raced. She’d always suspected Florrie had a thing going with Solomon – it had often been the cause of the rows between her parents. ‘Was it Solomon who took you in when you got bombed out?’
‘He’s got a big ’ouse,’ she replied matter-of-factly. ‘With ’is wife living with ’er sister in Scotland, it seemed a shame to let all them rooms go to waste.’ She looked Sally in the eye. ‘I moved into the spare room and paid rent like any other lodger.’
Sally almost laughed. She knew her mother far too well, and it was ludicrous of Florrie to even attempt such a ridiculous lie. She eyed the suitcase and gas mask that were standing beside the deckchair. ‘Where are you planning to stay?’
‘Well, ’ere of course. Peggy said I could ’ave the room next to you. Solly gave me some money to pay for the weekend, and once the Billeting Office opens on Monday, he’ll sort out the government grant and such-like.’
‘Me and Ernie are moving out at the end of next week,’ said Sally. She saw the glint in Florrie’s eyes and hastened to put her right. ‘My mate, Pearl, got married recently; as her Billy’s away at sea, she asked me to move in to the spare room with Ernie.’
‘Are you really staying, Mum?’ Ernie breathed. ‘You ain’t gunna go off again?’
‘Not just yet, luv.’ She glanced coolly at Sally. ‘I was ’oping we could be a real family again, but it seems yer sister ’as other plans.’ She shot Ernie a smile. ‘Wouldn’t you like to stay ’ere with me and Sal instead of going off?’
Ernie eyed her thoughtfully and then shrugged. ‘Dunno,’ he muttered.
‘I might even take you for a paddle on the beach,’ she said, as she dug in her big white plastic handbag for her powder compact and lipstick.
‘They got mines on the beach, Mum,’ said Ernie. ‘We ain’t allowed down there or the bombs will blow us all up.’
‘That’s nice, luv,’ she murmured, distracted by her reflection in the compact mirror and the need to add more lipstick.
Ernie looked up at Sally in confusion. ‘Does Mum want us to get blown up, Sal?’ he hissed.
‘Of course she doesn’t. She’s just not listening properly, that’s all.’
‘Why?’
‘Because that’s the way she is,’ said Sally flatly. ‘Why don’t you go and help Bob and Charlie with the kindling?’
‘All right,’ he said with a huge sigh. ‘I know when I ain’t wanted.’
Sally grinned at him and handed him the walking stick. ‘Get on with you,’ she said fondly, ‘and stop feeling so sorry for yourself. Look, Harvey wants you to go and play with him.’
Snapping the compact and lipstick away in the large bag, Florrie eased back into the deckchair and closed her eyes. ‘This is like being on ’oliday,’ she sighed. ‘Mind you, I ’ad one ’ell of a journey down. The lines were up, and we ’ad to get off and on bleedin’ buses every five minutes. I thought I’d never get ’ere.’
Sally was quite shocked to discover how her mother’s voice and language grated on her. Even Pearl’s accent had been smoothed out over the past months, and she had become used to the softer, rounded tones of Peggy and her family.
‘How did you find Beach View?’
She gave a chuckle. ‘I met a really nice bloke outside Cliffehaven Station who gave me a lift, otherwise I’d’ve ’ad to walk, and that suitcase ain’t ’alf ’eavy.’
‘Trust you to find the one man in Cliffehaven who has a car and doesn’t mind ferrying you about,’ muttered Sally.
‘It’s a knack I learned years ago, Sal. Wouldn’t ’urt you none either.’ She cast a sneering glance over Sally’s dungarees, wellington boots and cotton shirt. ‘Not that any bloke would look at you twice in that get-up. You’ve let yerself go, Sal, and that’s a fact, otherwise I’d’ve asked you along for drinks with ’im tonight at the Mermaid. He’s bound to ’ave a mate.’
Sally inwardly shuddered at the thought. Florrie usually got very drunk when out with her men-friends, and it was embarrassing to watch. ‘I can’t go out, anyway,’ she replied, ‘there’s Ernie to look after, and I’ve got a lot of sewing to finish.’
Florrie didn’t seem at all put out by this as she lifted her face to the sun and closed her eyes. ‘This is a lovely sunny spot,’ she sighed. ‘I might even get a tan now I’m at the seaside.’
Peggy came out of the house carrying a tray of mismatched glasses, with Anne following closely behind with a jug of cordial. These were set on the low stool.
Florrie opened one eye and stared resentfully at the cordial. ‘I thought we was ’aving proper drinks,’ she muttered. ‘I don’t suppose there ain’t any chance of a beer? Only I’m parched.’
‘I keep the beer for the men,’ said Peggy firmly. ‘It’s the cordial or water.’
‘What about a cuppa?’
‘Sorry. I’m down to the last few leaves, so I’m rationing it for breakfasts.’
Florrie heaved a very deep sigh and closed her eyes again. ‘Then I suppose I’ll ’ave to ’ave the cordial.’
Sally shot an apologetic glance at Peggy, who shrugged and poured the cordial into the glasses. Ron and the boys took theirs to a sunny spot by the tomatoes where they sat on strips of sacking and helped prick out the cabbage seedlings that would soon be planted in the vegetable plot.
Ernie seemed quite happy, so Sally turned her attention back to Florrie, who was now leaning back in the deckchair as if she was on holiday at some smart hotel, waiting to be served refreshments. ‘How did you get a permit to cross into this restricted zone, Mum?’
‘Solly knows some bloke at the Transport Office,’ she murmured. ‘I think ’e laid it on a bit thick about me being bombed out, and that me kids were down ’ere and such. But it worked, and ’ere I am – out of London and away from them bombs.’
She sat up as Anne handed her the glass of cordial. She took a sip, found to her surprise that she liked it and took another. ‘London’s on fire, you know,’ she said to no-one in particular. ‘Them Germans are flying over nearly every day now.’
‘It’s not much better down here,’ replied Peggy dryly. ‘We’ve had raids too, and a great many tip and runs. Didn’t you know that the newspapers are calling this part of the south coast Bombers’ Alley?’
Florrie’s blue eyes widened. ‘Solly said it would be safe ’ere,’ she breathed. ‘That’s why I agreed to come.’
‘He was obviously misinformed,’ said Peggy.
‘But the kids are still ’ere, ain’t they? They wouldn’t let ’em stay if it were that dangerous.’
‘Our school nearly got bombed the other day,’ shouted Ernie from across the garden. ‘It was exciting, cos we ’ad to go into the shelter under the playground and we could ’ear the planes and everything.’
‘See?’ said Florrie. ‘Even Ernie ain’t scared. I can’t see what all the fuss is about.’
Anne lit a cigarette and regarded Florrie with uncharacteristic coolness. ‘A lot of the local children have already been evacuated, along with most of the ones who came down from London. The classrooms are almost empty, and soon it won’t be viable to keep the school going. The bombing so close to the school was a warning to all of us that it isn’t safe any more.’
‘But your boys are still ’ere.’ Florrie glanced across at Bob and Charlie who were helping Ernie to water the vegetable plants. ‘And Sally’s been talking about moving in with a mate. It don’t sound that urgent to me.’
‘It might not seem urgent to you,’ said Peggy. ‘But Jim and I have been talking seriously about sending them all away until things quieten down. And yet we’ve heard some of the evacuees’ stories, and we can’t make up our minds what to do for the best.’ She heaved a deep sigh. ‘It’s all a bit of a dilemma really – especially now Sally’s making plans to start afresh at Pearl’s.’
‘I don’t see why. If it ain’t safe, then they gotta go. My kids done all right with you, why shouldn’t they be all right somewhere else?’
‘We were lucky Peggy took us in,’ said Sally. She lowered her voice so the boys couldn’t hear what she was saying. ‘No-one wanted Ernie,’ she said quietly, ‘and the lady from the Billeting Office said he’d have to go to an orphanage. If Peggy hadn’t come along when she did, we’d have had to get on the next train back to London, because there was no way I was leaving Ernie in some home.’
‘It were a good thing you didn’t,’ she replied. ‘It’s been ’ard enough to cope without you and ’im getting under me feet.’
‘Don’t worry,’ said Sally. ‘I don’t expect you to look after either of us. We’ve managed very well without you.’
‘Oh, that’s nice, ain’t it?’ Florrie looked to Peggy and Anne for support, found she didn’t have it, and glared at Sally. ‘I’m still yer mother. You got no call to be rude.’
‘And you’ve no right to call yourself a mother,’ hissed Sally, her emotions finally getting the better of her. ‘You haven’t seen or written to us since we left, and yet you haven’t asked about Ernie’s health, or how I’ve been coping – you could hardly force yourself to give him a proper hug and kiss. So don’t you dare come down here and start pretending you care.’
Florrie slammed the glass on to the stool and sat forward in her chair. ‘You ain’t too big to get a good slap, my girl,’ she growled. ‘You wanna watch yer mouth, or I’ll shut it for yer.’
‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ Sally retorted. ‘I’m bigger and stronger than I was a year ago, and not afraid to hit you back.’
‘I think it would be better if we discussed this once the boys are in bed and Jim is home,’ said Peggy calmly.
‘I’m off out tonight. Got a date at the Mermaid.’
‘Isn’t your children’s safety rather more important than a date with some man at the Mermaid?’ Peggy’s face was a mask of dislike.
‘Well, of course it is,’ Florrie blustered. ‘But ’e was ever so kind, giving me a lift and all, and I can ’ardly stand ’im up, now, can I? It would be rude.’
‘Rude or not, I think it’s your responsibility to be here when we discuss Sally and Ernie’s well-being.’
Florrie took a long drink of cordial as if stalling for time. ‘I don’t see that’s any of your business,’ she replied finally. ‘If Sal wants to go swanning off with Ernie to some countryside hell-hole, it’s up to ’er.’ She put down the glass, glanced at her watch and gathered her things. ‘I’d like to see me room now,’ she said. ‘Time’s getting on, and I need to change out of this frock. I don’t want to be late for that drink.’
‘I’ll show you the way,’ muttered Sally, her face red with shame as she caught Peggy’s eye.
Florrie hadn’t changed a bit, and in a matter of half an hour had managed to upset everyone that Sally held dear. As she led the way up to the top floor, she knew she had hardened her heart enough to withstand all Florrie could throw at her, but she resolved to safeguard innocent little Ernie, for she suspected his mother was about to break his heart all over again.
Sally was very quiet as she helped Anne and Peggy in the kitchen. She went into the dining room and laid the table, her gaze repeatedly returning to the sewing machine in the corner and the pile of sewing she had still to do. She was exhausted rather than being exhilarated from her trek across the hills, and all she really wanted to do was go to bed and shut out the world until morning. But there was the evening meal to get through first.
Florrie came downstairs almost an hour later in another tight-fitting frock. She had done her hair in a new style and had freshened her make-up. She cornered Sally in the dining room while the others were in the kitchen.
‘I don’t know what you got planned for Ernie, but let me tell you straight, Sal. I ain’t going nowhere with ’im. You understand?’
‘Oh, I understand perfectly,’ she replied.
Florrie raised a finely plucked eyebrow. ‘Don’t you get sarky with me, my girl. I got things planned so, as you seem to think you’re in charge of Ernie, then you can get on with it. I got a life to lead, and ’aving ’im on me tail all the time ain’t gunna help.’
‘I see. So it doesn’t matter about me and my life then?’
‘You ain’t old enough to ’ave the sort of life I’m aiming for,’ said Florrie in an angry hiss, ‘and I ain’t gunna let you and Ernie spoil it.’
Sally frowned. ‘How exactly could we spoil it?’
‘Solly’s promised to marry me once the war’s over and ’e can get a divorce, but ’e’s already warned me he won’t take on Ernie.’
‘Haven’t you forgotten you’re still married to Dad?’
‘Not for long,’ she said dismissively. ‘The divorce papers are already going through.’
Sally stared at her, numb with shock.
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ snapped Florrie. ‘Me and yer dad were over years ago. I only stayed with ’im cos ’e was earning good money.’
‘Does Dad know you’re divorcing him – or are you just going to present him with the papers the next time he comes home on leave?’
‘He knows right enough,’ she said bitterly. ‘He were the one to file the papers in the first place.’ She grabbed Sally’s arm, her long nails digging into her flesh. ‘But you keep that to yerself. I don’t want Solly finding out it weren’t me what started the divorce.’
‘But if he’s named on the petition, he’ll find out soon enough.’ She wrested her arm from her mother’s grip and massaged it.
Florrie’s gaze drifted. ‘He ain’t. It were another bloke altogether.’
‘Well, well, and who do we have here?’ Jim strolled into the dining room and looked appreciatively at Florrie from head to toes.
Florrie’s smile switched on like a light bulb. ‘I’m Sally’s mother,’ she simpered. ‘You must be Jim.’
‘Indeed I am,’ he said with a wink. ‘Sure, and you’re not old enough to be the mother of Sally. Why you’re far too young.’
‘I can tell you’re full of the Irish blarney, Jim,’ she said with a giggle. ‘You are a one.’
‘Well now, I’ve always found that a pretty woman likes to receive a compliment.’
‘Get away with you,’ she said, lightly tapping his arm.
‘When you’ve quite finished,’ snapped Peggy from the doorway. ‘Tea’s ready.’
‘I was just welcoming our new—’
‘I know exactly what you were doing, Jim Reilly. Go and help your father in the kitchen.’ She turned her furious gaze on Florrie. ‘Are you staying for tea?’
‘Why not? I am paying for it after all,’ replied Florrie, her gaze never wavering beneath Peggy’s glare.
‘Then you’ll respect my home and my family by not flirting with my husband, or bullying your daughter.’ Peggy folded her arms. ‘You can sit at the end of the table next to Ernie.’
Sally didn’t say much during the meal; the conversation round the table was stilted, the atmosphere charged. Jim and Ron ate in silence, Peggy glared down the table at Florrie, and even Mrs Finch was unusually quiet as the boys chattered to one another.
Cissy had no real idea of what was going on as she’d only just arrived home, but she’d clearly decided to try and lighten the mood by chattering on about her day and the show she was rehearsing that evening. ‘I like your hairstyle,’ she said to Florrie. ‘Is that the latest fashion in London?’
‘It’s called the Victory Roll,’ she replied. ‘It’s ever so easy to do. You just roll it back at the sides, and up at the back, ’olding it in place with pins or, if you ’ave one, a snood. A lot of girls stuff wadding in the rolls to make ’em look thicker.’
‘I’ll give it a try when I get back tonight,’ murmured Cissy.
Florrie smiled slyly as Peggy glowered at the other end of the table. ‘It sounds ever so glamorous being on the stage – someone told me once I should give it a go, cos I look like Dorothy Lamour.’
Peggy snorted and Sally bit her lip, not daring to catch her eye.
‘It’s not as easy as people think,’ replied Cissy. ‘We do revues in the theatre most nights, and of course there’re the shows for the forces. Any spare time is taken up with costume fittings and rehearsals. Sally’s been an absolute brick when it comes to the costumes. We don’t know what we’d do without her now our usual wardrobe lady has gone off to join the Wrens.’
‘Really?’ Florrie eyed Sally thoughtfully. ‘I didn’t realise you’d come on so much since yer gran taught yer.’
‘You weren’t interested, so I didn’t bother to tell you.’ Sally put her knife and fork together on her plate and helped Ernie scrape off the last bit of meat from the bones.
Cissy looked from Florrie to Sally with a frown, and decided to fill the awkward silence. ‘What I’d really like to do is join ENSA – but Dad won’t give his permission and I have to be twenty-one before I can join without it.’
‘You can’t blame ’im for that,’ laughed Florrie. ‘Some of them shows ain’t worth seeing – and I should know, I’ve been to plenty.’ She left most of the meal on the plate and pushed it to one side. ‘Do y’know what ENSA stands for in London?’
‘Entertainments National Service Association,’ said Cissy.
Florrie gave a shriek of laughter that made Sally cringe and Mrs Finch shudder. ‘Every Night Something Awful. And that about says it all when the fat lady can’t sing, the one on the piano can’t play, and the comic ain’t funny.’
‘That’s only the small shows,’ said Cissy defensively. ‘I want to be in the big ones with people like Gracie Fields, Arthur Askey, Tommy Trinder and George Formby.’
‘Only famous people get into them,’ said Florrie, careless of Cissy’s feelings. ‘I’d stick to what yer doing, luv. You’ll probably find a nice rich stage-door Johnny before too long, and won’t ’ave to bother with prancin’ about in some draughty town hall.’
Sally broke into the frosty silence before Peggy could give vent to the palpable rage that stormed in her eyes. ‘Aren’t you going to be late for your drink at the Mermaid?’
‘Gawd, yes, and I don’t even know where it is.’
‘Down the road, turn right into King Street. It’s the third pub on the left,’ muttered Ron. ‘Make sure you shut the door properly on your way out.’
Florrie shoved back her chair, picked up her cardigan and handbag and, with a cheery wave, left the dining room. The front door slammed with such force it rattled every window in the house.
‘I don’t usually speak ill of people,’ said Mrs Finch quietly into the ensuing silence, ‘and I’m sorry if it upsets you, Sally, but that woman is trouble.’
‘I’ve known that for years,’ Sally replied, ‘and I want to apologise to you all for her behaviour. You’ve all been so good to me and Ernie, and I can’t tell you how ashamed I am.’
‘It’s not you who should be apologising,’ said Peggy, as she gathered the plates together. ‘It’s unfortunate she’s your mother, but then we all have our crosses to bear.’ She shot an accusing glare at Jim.
‘You should keep an eye on that one,’ said Mrs Finch, with a sage nod of her head. ‘She’s up to no good.’
Once the dishes had been washed and put away, Sally carried Ernie upstairs. When he was in bed, she massaged his back and legs, and then opened one of the storybooks Anne had lent her and they both slowly and carefully read it together.
Ernie’s eyelids grew heavy and Sally gently tucked him in and kissed his soft cheek.
‘Is Mum coming back?’
‘Yes, love, but you won’t see her until tomorrow now.’
‘I dunno if I want ’er ’ere,’ he muttered sleepily. ‘I liked it before she came.’
‘You and me both,’ she muttered under her breath. ‘Well, we won’t let her spoil things, will we? Auntie Peg will still look after you when I’m at work, and Grandpa Ron will still take us for walks on the hills – and soon we’ll be moving in with Pearl. Won’t that be lovely?’
‘I love Grandpa Ron,’ he murmured, falling deeper towards sleep. ‘And I love you too, Sal. You won’t ever leave me, will you?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ she whispered as he finally fell asleep.
She sat beside the bed for a long while, her thoughts troubled. She had tough decisions to make but, as the silence filled the room and the sky darkened, she knew in her heart that she had no real choices at all. Ernie needed her and, no matter what, she would stick to her promise and not desert him.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs she heard Peggy talking in the kitchen.
‘It’s tough for all of us, but poor Sally has the worst of it. I heard that mother of hers flatly refusing to have anything to do with Ernie, let alone go with him to Wales or wherever they send our children. But I know Sally well enough to accept that she’d have changed her plans and gone with him, regardless of what that woman said.’
Her voice broke. ‘It breaks my heart, it really does. That poor little girl has made a good life for herself here, and she’d be leaving her work, her friends, and her little sewing business behind and having to start all over again. It’s just not fair.’
Sally bit her lip and blinked back the tears as she hurried into the room. ‘Please don’t worry about me, Peggy, I’m tougher than I look, really.’
‘But you’re only just seventeen,’ snapped Peggy, still thoroughly put out by everything. ‘Of course I worry about you.’
‘Oh, Peg,’ she sighed, putting her hand on her shoulder. ‘Please don’t make this harder than it already is. You see I can’t let Ernie go alone, I promised I’d never leave him.’
‘It’s an awkward situation for everyone,’ said Jim. ‘I don’t want me boys going off to strangers, but none of them are safe here any more. The bombing is getting more frequent and we’ve been lucky so far – I’m scared that if we leave it much longer, our luck will run out.’
Sally had to accept her plans to go and live with Pearl would have to be delayed. Ernie had to come first. ‘If Jim and I can persuade the billeting people to let us travel together, and perhaps get accommodation in the same town, then I can keep an eye on the boys for you. If there’s any trouble, I can sort it out straight away.’
‘You’d do that?’ Peggy’s eyes were moist as she grasped Sally’s fingers. ‘Oh, Sally, you are a good girl. But what about all your plans to move in with Pearl?’
She kissed Peggy’s damp cheek. ‘I can do that when the war’s over,’ she said softly. ‘You’ve been more of a mother to me than Florrie ever was, and if I can do this for you, then I’ll feel that in a small way I’m repaying you for all you’ve done for me and Ernie.’
‘But how long would you all have to be away?’ sighed Peggy, mopping her tears.
‘For as long as it takes to win this bloody war,’ muttered Jim.
‘I don’t like the thought of my boys growing up without me,’ said Peggy. ‘What if it’s years before they can come home? They might not even recognise us.’
‘Now you’re talking daft, woman,’ growled Jim. ‘If the boys have a chance of growing up at all, it won’t be here with us. We have to let them go, Peg.’
‘Doesn’t anyone have any relatives the children could go to?’ piped up Mrs Finch. ‘Only, it seems to me that would be far safer than entrusting them to strangers.’
‘There’s an ancient aunt in Dublin, but I wouldn’t leave a dog with her, let alone my boys,’ growled Ron. ‘The rest of the Reillys are scattered over America and Australia - which isn’t any help at all.’
‘My dad’s got an older sister. I think she lives in Somerset, or somewhere down in the west, anyway. I only met her a couple of times, and she was really nice.’ Sally grinned for the first time for hours. ‘She and Florrie took one look at each other and the hatred was instant. You could literally see their hackles rising. Poor Dad, he didn’t know what to do – it was ever so funny.’
‘I don’t suppose Florrie would have her address, then?’ said Jim.
Sally shook her head. ‘I could write to Dad, but the letter might take weeks to reach him. If he’s not part of the Atlantic convoys, then he could be anywhere.’
Further discussion was interrupted by the wailing siren, and they swiftly went into what had become a nightly routine. Weighed down with children, blankets and pillows, they trekked down the garden path. Searchlights pierced the darkness hunting for enemy planes, the warning siren so shrill it rang in their heads as they entered the tomb-like dankness of the Anderson shelter.
Peggy lit the lamp, settled Mrs Finch in her deckchair, and swathed the boys in blankets. Ron and Jim got out a pack of cards and Sally opened a comic so Ernie could look at the pictures. They’d probably be stuck in here for an hour or so, and they’d become inured to the nuisance of it all.
The silence was deafening as the siren stopped shrieking. And then they heard it, and all eyes looked to the ceiling, following the ominous sound. The mighty, deep and continuous roar was unmistakable. It was the sound of hundreds of enemy planes coming from over the sea. ‘Oh, my God,’ breathed Peggy. ‘This is really it, this time, and my girls are out there in the middle of it.’
‘They’ll be in a shelter, Peg. Don’t you be frettin’.’ Jim put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek. ‘They know the drill, darlin’, they’ll be quite safe.’
‘But this is a proper raid,’ protested an ashen faced Peggy. ‘Just listen to how many enemy planes there must be.’
‘Hush, now,’ he murmured, ‘or you’ll be worrying the boys.’
Peggy wiped her eyes and turned to Bob and Charlie, gathering them into her arms and holding them close.
The crump of heavy artillery and the sharper ‘ack-ack’ of the anti-aircraft guns on the cliffs joined the steady, menacing drone, and through the gap between the door and the arc of corrugated iron, Sally watched the great white searchlight beams hunting them, finding them, pinpointing them and starkly revealing the vast numbers that flew above them. It was an awesome, terrible sight.
Despite her own terror, Sally put her arm round Ernie, whose eyes were wide and frightened. ‘It’s all right,’ she murmured in his ear, as she pulled him on to her lap and rocked him. ‘We’re all here, nice and snug and safe in our cave.’
The mighty explosion rocked the earth beneath them, making it tremble. It reverberated in their heads and through their bodies, making them all cry out.
Harvey began to whimper as a second explosion swiftly followed. It was much nearer this time, and had them cringing and clinging to each other, wondering if the next would kill them all.
Sally buried Ernie’s head into her chest and closed her eyes, but she could hear more explosions in the distance, could hear the sound of tumbling masonry and shattering glass nearby, could smell burning, and hear the urgent clanging bell of the fire engines.
And still the heavy-bellied drone of the enemy planes continued. On and on it went, filling the very air around them and making the corrugated iron shudder as Harvey shivered and cringed, and Ron tried to comfort him.
The guns boomed from the cliff-tops and along the seafront, searchlights strafed the skies, and ambulance and fire engine bells added to the cacophony.
Sally prayed for it to end as she held Ernie and tried not to panic. She glanced at the others and realised they too were making a brave show for the children’s sakes. Yet, as she looked at Mrs Finch, she couldn’t help but giggle. She was fast asleep and snoring fit to bust.
Harvey had clambered into Ron’s lap and buried his nose deep beneath his coat – from this questionable place of safety, he, thankfully, had stopped howling.
And now they could hear the lighter, quicker buzz of Spitfires and the throaty roar of the Hurricanes. Their eyes turned heavenward again, their spirits rising.
‘Come on me boys,’ yelled Jim. ‘Show ’em what we’re made of!’
They sat and listened, prisoners in this iron shelter, hostages to whatever was happening outside.
‘I can smell smoke,’ said Peggy, suddenly alert. ‘Oh, Jim, you don’t think it’s us, do you?’
He opened the door a fraction and looked out. ‘I can’t see anything much over our roof, but I’m guessing it’s a couple of streets down from us,’ he muttered. ‘The fire brigade is already on to it.’
‘Oh, those poor people,’ muttered Peggy. ‘I do hope it isn’t too bad.’
Sally continued to rock Ernie, finding it gave her comfort to feel his solidity and warmth in her arms. This was her first experience of a real air-raid, and she was terrified, but looking at Peggy’s calm, sad face and the stoicism of Ron and Jim, she took heart.
As the brave little Spitfires and Hurricanes tried to push the invaders back out to sea, they sat listening to the dog-fights overhead and silently cheered their brave boys on. It seemed to last for hours, and every time they heard the deathly whine and crump of a fallen plane they prayed it wasn’t one of their own.
‘They’re probably heading for London,’ muttered Peggy. ‘I do hope Doreen and the kids are safe in a shelter somewhere.’
‘Probably down in Cannon Street Tube station,’ replied Jim, ‘though the thought of being trapped underground with hundreds of strangers doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘I know, Jim.’ Peggy held his hand. ‘After what you went through last time, that’s understandable.’
‘He wasn’t the only one to get buried in a trench,’ said Ron scornfully. ‘His brother almost died in one when it caved in.’
‘You’ll not mention his name, Da,’ Jim growled.
‘Frank’s my son too, and I’ll talk about him whenever I want,’ fired back Ron. ‘What happened to make you both so bitter?’
‘I’ll not be talking about it.’ Jim wrapped his thick coat more firmly round him and crossed his arms. ‘Leave it, Da. This is not the time.’
‘When is the time, then, Jim? Tell me that. After I’m dead and buried – after we’re all killed in this damned war?’ He chewed furiously on his unlit pipe. ‘I would have thought your shared experience of going to Dunkirk might have knocked some sense into you. But it seems you’re still as pig-headed as ever.’
‘That’s enough, the pair of you,’ said Peggy. ‘What’s done is done, and if neither of them wants to talk about it, Ron, then there’s nothing you can do to alter things.’
‘Hmmph.’ Ron stroked the dog who’d almost crawled inside his coat. ‘It comes to something when brother fights brother and their father can’t mention their names. What the hell was the first war all about? What good did it do? It was supposed to be the war to end all wars – now look at us. Cowering in this bit of tin while men kill each other in the skies above our heads. We never learn. Never.’
‘I know, Ron, I know,’ soothed Peggy.
‘And all because men have too much pride to say they’re sorry. Too stiff with it to admit they’ve done something wrong. If I go to me death before you boys make it up, I’ll never forgive either of you.’
Jim’s face broke into a grin. ‘And what will you be doing after you’re dead, Da? Haunting us?’
‘That’s for me to know and you to find out. I could bang your heads together, so I could.’
It was clear the tense situation had got to them all, and they sat in a long silence after that, listening to the battle going on overhead.
And then the guns stopped. The searchlights pierced an empty sky and all that could be heard were the shouts of men and the crash of masonry and breaking glass.
‘The planes have gone,’ said Bob. ‘Can we go back indoors?’
‘Not until the all-clear.’ Peggy rammed a woollen hat over his ears and found another for Charlie. ‘Is Ernie warm enough? I’ve brought another sweater.’
‘He’s fine, thanks, Peggy.’ She smoothed back the hair from his forehead and kissed him. ‘He’s almost asleep now the noise has stopped.’
Peggy smiled and nodded at Mrs Finch. ‘He’s not the only one,’ she murmured.
They waited for what felt like hours in the shifting, flickering light of the hurricane lamp. And then the bombers returned – dropping the last of their loads on Cliffehaven so they were light enough to outrun the British planes that pursued them over the Channel.
Half an hour after that, the welcome sound of the all-clear sounded and they clambered, cold and exhausted, from the shelter into a dawn filled with thick smoke and the stench of burning. Ash floated like confetti, charred paper drifted in the light breeze, and they soon discovered there was no electricity or water.
They all sighed gratefully that the house was still standing, but the garden wall had taken a hit and collapsed, along with the shed. The outside lav stood in solitary splendour among the debris of its walls and roof. A tree had come down on the house behind them, telegraph poles had fallen like ninepins, and the chimney on the house opposite had toppled and taken half the roof with it.
Peggy left Jim in charge of Bob and Charlie and hurried off to check on the neighbours. There were several elderly people living nearby, and Peggy had taken it upon herself to keep a close eye on them.
Sally carried Ernie upstairs and put him to bed.
‘Where’s Mum?’ he asked sleepily.
Sally felt a stab of guilt – she hadn’t given Florrie a thought all through the raid. ‘She’s down in the town with her friend,’ she replied softly. ‘She’ll be back later.’
‘D’ya promise?’
Sally gritted her teeth. ‘She’ll turn up, Ernie. You can bet on it.’
Once he was asleep, Sally went back downstairs and on to the pavement. The thick stench of burning filled the dawn, and she could see the orange glow of fire in the distance. Their own terrace of houses seemed to have escaped the worst of it, but no doubt a copious amount of tea would be called for to cater to the men clearing the rubble and the ambulance drivers and firemen – as well as any neighbour Peggy could find who needed a bit of help, or others needing the comfort of a kitchen and a good gossip. And that was all before the cleaning up began in the house.
Sally sighed deeply and headed for the kitchen. Her shift began at one this afternoon. It was going to be a very long day.