Chapter Two
Anne Reilly was almost twenty-three and felt blessed that her first post since qualifying was at the local primary school where she’d once sat enthralled by the things she could learn. Her smile was soft with contentment as she collected the exercise books and stacked them on her desk. She loved teaching, and the children had been well behaved today, even her little brother, Charlie.
The bell began to ring; classes were over until Monday. ‘Don’t run,’ she called out to the stampeding children, ‘and stop pushing, Charles Reilly. You’ll get home soon enough.’
Her youngest brother shot her his cheeky grin and eased through the door before tearing down the hallway with an enthusiastic yell of freedom. At eight years old, Charlie had far too much energy – but he was bright and absorbed his lessons like a sponge. Anne had high hopes for Charlie.
She cleaned the blackboard, put away the chalk, rulers and pencils in the desk and set about tidying the classroom. The arrival of so many evacuees had swelled the numbers at Cliffehaven Primary, and there was very little room to manoeuvre around the desks and benches. But that wasn’t the most pressing problem, for space could always be found somewhere – it was more the fact that the majority of those evacuee children could barely read and write, let alone knew the names and dates of the English Kings and Queens or recited their tables. It seemed the East End children were needed to earn money, not waste time at school – and it was extremely difficult to run a classroom efficiently when half the children had to have special coaching to get them up to scratch.
Anne sighed as she stowed the reading books away in the cupboard. The headmaster was aware of how hard things were getting, but with a shortage of books and more evacuees scheduled to arrive over the next few weeks, the situation could only get worse. There had been talk of dividing up the lessons – the local children in the morning, evacuees in the afternoon – but that would mean only half an education for all of them, unless they worked through the holidays as well.
She stuffed the exercise books into her briefcase, pulled on her warm woollen coat and scarf and shut the classroom door behind her. Everyone had to do their bit, and if it meant shorter holidays and longer hours, then that was what she would do.
Her thoughts were disrupted by Dorothy who was emerging from her own classroom across the corridor. She and Dorothy had known each other all their lives and had attended the same teacher-training college. ‘You look as if you’ve had a bit of a day,’ Anne said with a smile.
‘You should try teaching that lot,’ Dorothy replied, sweeping back her wavy ginger hair. ‘Half of them can’t sit still for more than a couple of minutes, and it’s the devil’s own job to keep order. I can’t say I’m sorry it’s the weekend.’
Anne took her arm and gave it a sympathetic hug. Dorothy had several disruptive children in her class, and she fully understood how hard it was to keep them quiet and focused on their lessons. ‘What are your plans for the next two days? Are you seeing Greg?’
Dorothy drew the bulging briefcase to her chest and gave a rueful smile as they headed for the front door. ‘Marking this lot will take up most of the evening, but, yes, I’m meeting Greg for a drink later. Want to join us?’
Anne shook her head, making her dark curls dance. She didn’t fancy playing gooseberry with Dorothy and her Canadian soldier. ‘I’ve got other plans,’ she replied, knowing there was a twinkle in her eyes.
Dorothy raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s like that, is it?’
Anne could feel the blush rise up her neck and into her face. ‘We’ve only known each other a few weeks,’ she protested. ‘Give us a chance.’
‘Martin Black is a bit of a catch, though, you have to admit,’ said Dorothy. ‘He’s handsome, single and an RAF pilot – what more could you want?’
‘I’ll have to wait and see,’ murmured Anne, as Dorothy collected her bicycle from the shed and they walked to the gate. ‘Martin got his orders last night. He’ll be moving to a permanent base within the next two weeks. He can’t tell me where it is, of course, but it could be miles away, and we might not get the chance of seeing each other quite so much.’
Dorothy’s smile was knowing. ‘Oh,’ she said, with all the wisdom of a twenty-three year old who’d had a string of admirers, ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way.’ She settled her briefcase in the bicycle basket and pedalled off, wobbling slightly as she turned her head and waved goodbye.
Anne pulled on her gloves and tightened her scarf as the bitterly cold wind buffeted her. The gulls were wheeling overhead, filling the air with their angry cries. The fishermen must just have returned on the high tide with their daily catch.
It was a fairly short walk home, past the local shops and pubs before turning north and up the hill away from the seafront. But, as she hurried out of the school gates, her mind wasn’t really on gulls, fishermen or classrooms. Her thoughts were full of Martin, and the worrying possibility that their fledgling romance would simply peter out once he was posted. She had no illusions, for she’d seen it happen to some of her friends – but life was uncertain for everyone, and she was determined to remain optimistic.
* * *
Sally trailed behind them across the concourse. Mrs Reilly was a small, wiry woman whose every step spoke of a boundless energy, but Sally was a little disconcerted by the way she had taken charge of Ernie, and of how willingly he’d taken his walking stick and gone along with her. She seemed nice enough, and she’d clearly put that awful woman in charge in her place. And yet Mrs Reilly was a smartly dressed stranger who talked posh, was clearly used to being obeyed, and wore dead animals round her neck. Sally decided to reserve judgement until she got to know her better.
As they emerged from the station, which was at the top of a long, steep hill, she was immediately struck by how cold it was, the air smelling cleanly of salt – instead of soot from a thousand chimneys, like back home. She looked up at the large white wheeling birds that shrieked and squabbled over the rooftops, and then gazed down the hill, past the large shops, banks and hotels with their stacks of sandbags and taped windows to where she caught a glimpse of blue glittering between the big houses. ‘Is this the seaside?’ she breathed.
‘Indeed it is,’ said Peggy with a beaming smile. ‘Welcome to Cliffehaven. I know you must be finding it hard to take it all in, but I hope you’ll be happy here.’
‘I ain’t never seen the sea before,’ she said, awestruck.
‘Cor,’ shouted Ernie, who was far more interested in Peggy’s car. ‘Are we goin’ in that?’ His eyes were wide and shining as he fingered the Ford’s running board, the huge headlamps and the shining chrome.
‘As long as it starts,’ said Peggy, as she opened the door and helped him clamber on to the back seat. ‘Otherwise it’s the trolleybus.’
‘Careful, Ernie. That’s real leather, that is, and Mrs Reilly don’t want you scratching it with yer calliper.’ Sally’s stern look was wasted, for Ernie was too busy leaning over the front seat to examine the dials and switches on the dashboard.
‘I shouldn’t worry too much,’ laughed Peggy. ‘This old car has withstood four children and more besides. Let him have his fun.’
Sally gave Ernie another furious look as she put the suitcase on the seat beside him and closed the door before warily joining Mrs Reilly on the front seat. The car smelled lovely, and it reminded her of the market stall in Petticoat Lane where Alf Green sold the gloves and handbags he made with the leftovers from his cobbler’s shop. She could feel the cool leather against her bare legs, and the way the seat cushioned her, but she sat ramrod stiff, terrified she might damage it. Mrs Reilly must be very rich to own such a car.
‘Off we go then. Hold on tight. This old girl gets a bit temperamental, but she’ll be fine once we get going.’
Sally pressed back into the seat and held on as the engine spluttered into life and they jerked their way down the hill. But as the car slowly rattled and backfired its way past Woolworths and the Odeon cinema, she forgot to be nervous, for the patch of blue at the bottom of the road had captured her full attention.
They reached the crossroads at the bottom of the hill and Peggy drew to a halt. ‘There you are,’ she said, with obvious pride. ‘That’s the English Channel.’
‘So it’s not the sea then?’
‘Well, it is, but only the bit that divides us from France and the rest of Europe.’
‘Cor,’ breathed Ernie. ‘It’s big, ain’t it?’
Sally gazed in awe and disbelief, unable to voice her agreement. It was enormous, stretching from the towering white cliffs at one end of the promenade to the rolling hills at the other – and as far as the eye could see to the horizon where it seemed to melt into the sky. The blue was laced with white frothy waves that splashed against the shingle and the enormous concrete blocks that had been placed haphazardly across the bay. Gulls swooped and swirled overhead, flags fluttered, and the people walking on the promenade had to hold on to their hats and bend into the October wind.
She thought how envious her friends back home would be, but as she eyed the thick coils of barbed wire, the warnings that the beach had been mined, and the concrete gun emplacements that lined the promenade, she realised that, even if she did get up the nerve, she would never be able to actually get down on the beach, or dip her toes in the water.
Peggy seemed to have read her thoughts. ‘It doesn’t look its best at the moment,’ she said, engaging the gears with a clash. ‘Even the pier has been closed off for the duration. The army came the other day and dismantled half of it to prevent enemy landings.’
She turned the steering wheel and they headed east along the road towards the high white cliffs that were topped with grass, and the occasional gun emplacement. ‘If you want to go on the beach, then the only place is down there where the fishing fleet comes in – but it’s a busy place with the boats in and out, and not very safe.’
Sally stared up at the cliffs and back to the sea. She took in the black boats with their sails and ropes, and the men who clambered over them in their thick jumpers and sturdy rubber boots. She could even see the nets hanging out to dry in the wind, and the lobster pots stacked on the shingle. The nearest she’d ever come to seeing fish was in Billingsgate Market.
‘I feel sick,’ muttered Ernie.
Peggy slammed on the brake and Sally rushed to get him out of the car. ‘Oh, Ernie,’ she sighed, as he vomited copiously down a nearby drain. ‘I told you not to eat so much,’ she scolded softly.
Ernie’s little face was green-tinged as she cleaned him up with Mrs Reilly’s spotless handkerchief, and gave him a hug.
‘Too much excitement and chocolate cake, by the look of it,’ Peggy said, as she helped him back to the car, told him to lie down, and gently tucked a blanket round him. ‘We’ll be home soon,’ she soothed.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Reilly.’ Sally’s face felt hot and she couldn’t look the woman in the eye. ‘He’s ruined yer ’ankie, an’ all. I’ll get you another one as soon as I’m earning.’
‘Nonsense,’ said Peggy, taking the offending article and stuffing it in her handbag. ‘All children are sick at one time or another and the handkerchief can go in the wash with everything else.’ She clashed the gears and the car stuttered along the seafront. ‘If I had a penny for every time Bob and Charlie had been sick, then I’d be a rich woman.’ She smiled at Sally and patted her knee. ‘Don’t worry, dear,’ she murmured. ‘We’re nearly home, and he’ll be as right as rain after a cup of tea and a bit of a lie-down.’
Sally didn’t know what to make of Mrs Reilly. She seemed really nice, and had been very kind about Ernie making a show of himself – but what did a woman as rich as her want from them? She’d met do-gooders before, and they always wanted something in return for their favours; like the lady in the bakery back home, who wanted her ironing done in exchange for the few stale rolls she handed over begrudgingly at the end of the week.
Her doubts and suspicions multiplied as they turned from the seafront and began to climb the steep hill lined with row upon row of grand terraced houses. There were no factories or gasworks overshadowing them; no cracked pavements or littered streets with kids playing football, and women leaning in their doorways having a gossip. The windows were clean, the paintwork shining in the autumn sunlight, steps scrubbed, railings clear of rust. The gardens were neat and even the smoke from the chimneys was blown away by the wind coming off the sea.
She spotted two pubs down a side street, and a row of shops – but no sign of Goldman’s Clothing factory where she was supposed to start work in two days’ time.
‘That’s the local shops,’ said Peggy, slowing the car. ‘The big building at the far end is the hospital, and the one opposite it is the primary school where my daughter Anne teaches. Bob started at the secondary school this term, but Charlie goes there, and so will Ernie.’
‘But Billy said there weren’t no school in the country,’ wailed Ernie from the back seat. He was obviously feeling better.
Peggy laughed. ‘This is the seaside, and there is school,’ she said before resuming the drive.
Ernie opened his mouth to express his fury at having been misled, and Sally hurriedly changed the subject. ‘How far is it to Goldman’s factory?’
Peggy frowned. ‘Goldman’s? Is that where you’ll be working? How did you manage to organise that?’
‘Me boss at ’ome arranged it. Mr Goldman’s ’is brother-in-law.’
‘I see.’ Peggy changed down gears as the hill steepened. ‘You don’t look old enough to be working at all,’ she said, glancing at her, ‘and Goldman is a hard taskmaster, by all accounts. I’m sure I can get you something a little less—’
Now it was Sally’s turn to be indignant. ‘I’m sixteen,’ she replied, ‘and I’ve been ’olding down me job at Solomon’s for near on two year now. I know the work, and I’m good at it.’
‘I see,’ sighed Peggy. She seemed to pull her thoughts together. ‘Goldman’s is past the hospital and primary school at the end of that road,’ she said, with a nod of her head. ‘It will be a bit of a walk every day once winter really sets in, but there’s a spare bicycle in Ron’s shed. You can borrow that once it’s been mended.’
Sally was feeling rather ashamed of her outburst. Mrs Reilly was only trying to be helpful – but she didn’t have the first idea of how to ride a bike, and was reluctant to admit it. ‘I don’t mind walking,’ she replied.
Peggy glanced across at her. ‘Well, if you change your mind, Anne or one of the boys will show you how to ride it. It’s a bit of an old bone-shaker, but it’ll get you there and back all right.’ She pulled into a side street and brought the car to a halt halfway along. ‘This is it,’ she said, turning off the engine. ‘Welcome to Beach View.’
‘I can’t see the beach,’ grumbled Ernie, who was kneeling on the seat, looking out of the back window.
Sally was about to admonish him for being rude when Peggy intervened. ‘You will from your bedroom window,’ she said cheerfully. ‘Come on, let’s get you indoors. Anne and the boys will be home from school by now, and we can all get acquainted.’
Sally looked up at the terraced house, and felt even more uneasy. It was really smart, like one of the mansions near Hyde Park, with its portico and wide, white steps leading up to a smart door that had coloured panels of glass which caught the sun. There was a brass knob, and a knocker in the shape of a lion’s head, and at the end of the sweeping white steps were lanterns set into sturdy concrete pillars. She took in the frothy white net curtains at the taped windows, the tubs of flowers beside the door, and knew she and Ernie could never really fit in here.
‘Don’t let outward appearances fool you,’ said Peggy, who must have noticed her uneasiness. ‘It might be big, but that’s because it used to be a guesthouse. Now it’s just a home – a home for me and my family, and any poor soul who needs somewhere for the duration. Now it will be home for you too.’ She put her hand on Sally’s arm, her brown eyes expressive and sincere. ‘Don’t fret, Sally. We might be different to what you’re used to – but we don’t bite.’
Sally wasn’t at all sure how to react, for Mrs Reilly was like no-one she’d ever met before – and yet she seemed to have a warm heart, despite her forthright manner and, unlike Florrie, appeared to really care about her home and her family. She gave her a hesitant smile, for the doubts were still there. Mrs Reilly seemed all right now, but she might not be quite so friendly when Ernie had one of his terrible attacks of the cramps in his back and legs which had him screaming through the night.
Sally hitched Ernie on to her hip and carried him up the stairs as Peggy took the suitcase and opened the front door.
She could hear someone talking in a soft Irish accent as they stepped into the hallway, which smelled strongly of beeswax polish and cooking – scents that reminded her of her grandmother’s house and made her nostalgic for the days when the old lady had been alive. She set Ernie on his feet, aware of his little hand clutching her as they gazed in awe at the sweeping staircase and high ceilings. This was a world away from Bow, and she suspected he felt as disorientated and uncertain as she did.
‘That’ll be my father-in-law, Ron, telling the boys one of his outrageous stories,’ said Peggy, as the voice continued to drift out to them from somewhere at the back of the house. ‘No doubt he’s forgotten he’s supposed to keep an eye on the stew. Come on, no time like the present to meet some of the family.’
Ernie looked up at Sally, his big brown eyes fearful. ‘I’m nervous too,’ she whispered, as they reluctantly followed Mrs Reilly down the hall. ‘Just hold my hand, and we’ll both be all right.’
‘Well, and it’s about time too. Me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut, so it does.’ Ron turned from the sink where he’d been skinning a brace of rabbits. ‘Hello,’ he said, his piercing blue eyes boring into Sally and Ernie. ‘Who do we have here then?’
From the doorway, Sally took the scene in at a glance. The old man had a weather-worn face and thickset, sturdy figure which was encased in a misshapen sweater and baggy old trousers. The young woman sitting at the table before a pile of exercise books was pretty with creamy skin, dark eyes and hair and elegant hands. The two boys were tousle-headed, with clean faces and bright, intelligent eyes which were studying her and Ernie with unmasked curiosity. A large shaggy dog was stretched in front of the black range. It eyed them disinterestedly and went back to sleep.
‘This is Sally and Ernie,’ said Peggy, drawing them forward. ‘They’re going to be living with us for a while until it’s safe to go back to London.’
‘Are they now?’ Ron wiped his bloody hands down his trousers, his eyes twinkling. ‘And here’s me thinking you were only taking the one, Peggy.’
‘I changed my mind,’ she retorted.
Sally stood in the warm, homely kitchen with its heavenly smell of stew and held tightly to Ernie’s hand as Peggy eyed the gutted rabbits with disfavour and made the introductions.
‘My younger daughter, Cissy, should be home from work soon, and then of course there’s Mrs Finch and the Polish gentleman who you’ll meet at teatime,’ she finished. She smiled and added confidentially, ‘Don’t ask me to pronounce his name – it’s virtually impossible.’
Sally was finding the whole thing daunting, and she was aware of Ernie’s hand clutching her fingers. ‘Pleased to meet yer, I’m sure,’ she said, and only just managed to stop bobbing a curtsy, like her gran used to when she worked as a ladies’ maid in the big house in Hyde Park.
‘Nice to meet you, Sally.’ Anne half stood and shook her hand. ‘I hope you’ll excuse me, but these books have to be marked before I can go out.’
Bob shook hands solemnly before returning to his comic, but Charlie had fewer inhibitions and swung from the table, making a beeline for Ernie. ‘What’s that on your leg, Ernie? Are you a pirate?’
Ernie tried to melt against Sally as he shook his head.
‘I’ve got a bad leg too,’ said Charlie, pointing to a graze on his knee. ‘Got it wrestling a shark.’
‘Charlie, don’t fib,’ said Peggy, as she took off her coat, fur and hat and tied on her apron. ‘And leave poor Ernie alone. Can’t you see he’s tired and out of sorts?’
‘Aw, Mum. Can’t I show him my treasure?’ He didn’t wait for a reply, and turned back to Ernie. ‘D’you like pirates? I’ve got a whole box of treasure downstairs. Want to have a look?’
Ernie relaxed his hold on Sally’s coat. ‘Pirate treasure?’
Charlie nodded. ‘I’ve even got a skull,’ he breathed. ‘D’you want to see it?’
‘A skull?’ Ernie forgot to be shy, and his eyes widened as he took a step towards Charlie. ‘A real one?’
‘It’s from a dead fox,’ muttered Bob. ‘There’re loads up on the hills. Granddad finds them all the time.’
Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘I never said it was a human skull,’ he said in exasperation. ‘Do you wanna see it, Ernie?’
‘I dunno.’ Ernie shot a glance up at Sally, who nodded encouragement.
‘Aw, come on. It’s only downstairs …’ He looked at Ernie’s leg, suddenly not so certain of himself. ‘I suppose I could bring it up,’ he said hesitantly, ‘but …’
‘I ain’t a cripple,’ muttered Ernie. ‘A few old stairs don’t bother me.’
Sally was about to intervene when Ron took charge. ‘But why walk when you can get a lift? Will you be trusting me to take you down there into the dungeon, Ernie?’
Ernie eyed him warily. It was clear to Sally that he was longing to see the skull, but was rather daunted by the old man who was now looming over him.
‘Sure, and it’ll not take a minute, and you might find you even enjoy it. Are ye man enough to sit on me shoulders, Ernie?’
Ernie giggled and took a hesitant step towards him. The last time he’d ridden on a man’s shoulders it had been his father’s.
Ron’s eyes twinkled and he winked at Sally before bending down and swinging little Ernie on to his broad shoulders. ‘Right, me hearties,’ he cried, as the child squealed with a mixture of terror and delight and clutched at his hair, ‘let’s be going in search of Charlie’s plunder.’ He ducked as he reached the entrance to the basement steps. ‘Mind your head, there, shipmate!’
‘You’ll have to excuse him,’ said Peggy in a fluster, as Ron and the boys thundered down to the cellar. ‘He means no harm, but I sometimes wonder if he’s ever grown up.’
Sally’s smile was nervous. ‘He will look after him proper, won’t ’e? Only Ernie ain’t strong.’
Peggy set the kettle on the hob. ‘Ron knows what he’s doing, dear. Ernie will come to no harm with him.’
‘Mum’s right,’ said Anne, closing the last of the exercise books with a thankful sigh. ‘Granddad’s the best playmate any child could have, but I should warn you, Sally, he’ll get all of them into mischief.’
Sally had little doubt of it but, as she returned Anne’s smile, she realised how nice she was, and wondered if they could become friends despite the differences in age and background. She glanced round the homely kitchen and took off her coat. It was wonderfully warm in here. ‘Can I help with anything, Mrs Reilly?’
‘Bless you, no. Everything’s almost done, and once Cissy gets back, we can eat.’
‘That’s your other daughter, ain’t it?’
Peggy nodded as she set out cups and saucers and filled the warmed teapot. ‘Cissy’s a year older than you, so I’m hoping you’ll get on. But she’s a strange one, and takes a bit of getting used to.’ She sat down, pulled a packet of Park Drive out of her apron pocket and lit up the first of the two cigarettes she allowed herself each day.
Sally sat beside her, intrigued. ‘Strange?’
Anne closed the bulging briefcase and set it on the floor before she too lit a cigarette. ‘What Mum means is that although Cicely works in Woolworths on the High Street, she’s convinced her destiny lies in Hollywood.’ She laughed softly, and shook her head, making her shining hair bounce on her shoulders. ‘She spends hours in front of the mirror and makes the house shake when she practises her dance routines.’
Peggy poured the tea. ‘Cissy models herself on Judy Garland but, so far, she’s had to be satisfied with the back row of the chorus.’ She gave a deep sigh. ‘Where she gets it from, I have no idea.’
‘She must be very glamorous,’ said Sally wistfully, as she dug her careworn hands into her coat pockets to hide them. The sight of Anne’s manicured nails made her self-conscious.
‘She likes to think so,’ replied Peggy, clattering cups and pouring tea. ‘Personally, I think it’s time she settled down to something more sensible.’
Their conversation was interrupted by whoops and pirate yells from the basement.
‘It sounds like Ernie’s fitting in all right.’
‘I hope you’ll soon feel the same way,’ said Peggy, her brown eyes speaking volumes. ‘Go on, love, drink that before it gets cold, and then I’ll take you up to your room so you can settle in before we eat.’
There were two flights of stairs, with a runner of carpet held in place by shining brass rods. She followed Peggy, noting the fresh paint and the ornate coving on the ceiling.
‘I hope Ernie is going to be able to cope with these stairs,’ said Peggy. ‘Perhaps I should change things around and put you on the first floor?’
‘He’ll manage fine, Mrs Reilly. I can carry ’im up and down.’
‘Well,’ said Peggy, ‘if you think that will be all right. I suppose you’ll only be sleeping up here, and if you want to go out for the evening, I can always sit with him in case there’s an air raid.’
‘I won’t be going out, Mrs Reilly.’
Peggy eyed her quizzically. ‘But you’re young. You have to have some fun.’
‘Ernie relies on me,’ she said firmly, ‘and I’d never forgive myself if anything ’appened and I wasn’t ’ere.’ She didn’t like to confide that, although this was true, she actually couldn’t afford to go out. Ernie’s medicines cost a lot of money, and if he got ill, then the doctor had to be paid too. What with his clothes and shoes and everything else, her wages were stretched to the limit.
Peggy seemed to accept her explanation and said no more until they reached the top landing. ‘Here we are, dear,’ she said, as she approached the middle door of three. ‘Anne and Cissy share the other room, but the third is empty for now.’ She unlocked the door and pushed it open. ‘I’ll get my Jim to bring up another bed for Ernie. I wasn’t expecting to have two of you, you see.’
‘It’s all right,’ said Sally hastily. ‘Me and Ernie are used to sharing, and I expect ’e’ll feel a bit strange for a while till he gets used to it ’ere.’
‘I’ll get Jim to bring up another bed anyway,’ said Peggy, with a determined glint in her eye. ‘He can use it when he’s more settled.’
Sally stepped hesitantly into the room, expecting a gloomy attic, bare floorboards and a lumpy bed. What she discovered was a bedroom fit for a princess and, carefully putting down her case, she stared around her in awe.
Square and sunlit beneath a gently sloping roof, it was furnished with a single wrought-iron bed which was made up with crisp white linen and a floral eiderdown that matched the curtains. There were three rugs scattered over the polished floorboards, a mirror above the gas fire that stood in the small hearth next to its meter and, under the window, was a dressing table and soft armchair. A sturdy wardrobe and chest of drawers completed the furnishings, and through the window she could see over the rooftops to a glimpse of the sea.
‘It’s lovely,’ managed Sally, hardly daring to believe this was to be hers for as long as she stayed.
It was a palace compared to the dingy two rooms in Bow.
‘You can ignore the old gas lamps,’ said Peggy, ‘we’ve got electricity up here now.’ She flicked the brass switch next to the door and the central light came on to prove the point. ‘You’ll need some sixpences for the gas fire, but I can always let you have some to be going on with. I change the sheets and towels once a week, and meals will be in the dining room now there are so many of us. Breakfast is at seven, lunch at twelve, and tea at six thirty after the boys have listened to Children’s Hour.’
Sally’s happiness and awe disappeared like fog as she suddenly realised she would be expected to pay some kind of rent for all this luxury. ‘I won’t be able to pay you no rent until I get me first wages. ’ow much do you charge?’
‘Goodness me, Sally,’ breathed Peggy, clearly shocked. ‘You don’t have to pay your board and keep, dear. The government gives me a grant for that. All I ask is for you to hand over your ration book, keep the room clean and tidy, and perhaps help a bit round the house like my daughters do.’
Relief flooded through her as she reddened. ‘I didn’t realise,’ she murmured.
Peggy cocked her head. ‘Didn’t you get the leaflet they sent out when the arrangements were made for you and Ernie to leave London?’
‘I might have,’ she hedged, knowing full well she had – but she wasn’t about to admit she could barely read well enough to have made sense of it.
‘Oh, well, never mind. You’re here now.’ Peggy smoothed the creaseless pillowcases and checked the blackout lining on the curtains. ‘Just remember to keep these shut once it’s dark,’ she murmured, ‘we don’t want Wally Hall round here throwing his weight about.’ She smiled as Sally frowned. ‘He’s the ARP warden, and a proper little Hitler.’ She gave a sniff of derision. ‘Actually, he’s just a jumped-up post office clerk with ideas above his station.’
Sally grinned. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘We got one of them at ’ome.’
They smiled at one another. ‘Come on then, let me show you the bathroom and how to work the gas boiler. It’s a bit fierce, and needs handling just right.’
The bathroom was one floor below. It was a large, square room tiled in white, with polished lino on the floor, and a claw-footed bath taking centre stage. There was frosted glass in the window, and against one wall stood a heavy iron radiator – which, to Sally, was the height of luxury. Peggy showed Sally how to turn the tap on the gas boiler, hold the switch and aim the lighted match into the hole at the front.
It came to life with an alarming bang before it settled to a soft roar.
‘Just be sure you turn it off when you’ve finished,’ warned Peggy. ‘And if Cissy seems to have moved in for the duration, keep banging on the door until she comes out. That girl can spend hours in the bathroom.’
Sally was still overawed by the fact there was a proper bathroom in the house and could only nod.
‘I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me, and don’t worry about Ernie, I’ll keep an eye on him. Tea’s in about an hour, so you’ve plenty of time to settle in. Have a bath if you want.’ She hurried downstairs.
Sally eyed the deep tub with misgiving. A person could drown in that. She returned to the bedroom and softly closed the door behind her. Not even in her wildest dreams could she have imagined sleeping in such a wonderful place and, as she touched the crisp linen and breathed in the scent of fresh air and Omo soap powder in the fluffy towels, she was tempted to climb on top of the thick, downy eiderdown and go to sleep.
Then she caught sight of her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. She had felt quite smart when she’d left Bow, but now she could see that her felt hat and travel-stained overcoat looked scruffy: there was a smudge on her cheek and her hair was a tangled mess. The thick woollen skirt she’d finished making the night before had bagged and looked dowdy, and her best cream sweater was worn and shabby compared to the lovely one Anne had been wearing. Her shoes were sturdy enough, but even they could have done with a bit of a polish.
‘You don’t belong ’ere, Sal,’ she muttered, the stress and strangeness of the day finally crumbling her resolve. She sank into the soft armchair and burst into tears.
Aleksy Chmielewski had seen the girl moving like a shadow along the corridor before she hurried upstairs. He’d been coming out of his room on the first floor, and she hadn’t seen him, but he’d watched her until she disappeared on to the top floor.
He was thoughtful as he made his way to the bathroom. She reminded him of his little sister Danuta, and seeing her so unexpectedly had brought back the memories he’d tried so hard to put to the back of his mind.
Striking a match, he lit the boiler, turned the taps until the water gushed into the deep tub and stood staring into space as the steam rose and misted the windows. He had last seen Danuta in Warsaw.
It had been the spring of 1938 and he’d been due to rejoin his squadron which was fighting in the Spanish Civil War. The picnic had taken place in the park near their tenement apartment on the poorer side of the city. None of them had realised then that their way of life in the ancient, beautiful city was about to come to an abrupt and bloody end.
Aleksy turned off the taps, stripped and sank into the hot, soothing water. He closed his eyes, the memories as sharp and haunting as always. He could see Danuta sitting next to Anjelika, his lovely wife, who had their baby Brygida on her knee. They were laughing with the little girl as she clapped her hands in delight at the flitting butterfly that eluded her.
The tears seeped from beneath his lashes as he sank further into the water. Anjelika had looked so beautiful that day in her floral dress, with ribbons in her dark hair and his locket around her neck. He could hear her laughter and that of his sister and child – could see his elderly parents and read again the anguish in their eyes as they tried to pretend they weren’t concerned that their only son was leaving once more to fight a war they didn’t understand. Could remember so painfully how he’d tried to imprint every moment of that day in his memory so he could carry the images with him. For now, they merely served to haunt him.
Aleksy angrily smeared away the tears, washed thoroughly and clambered out of the bath. Wrapping a towel round his waist, he cleaned the steam from the mirror and studied his face. It was a strong face – like his father’s – and although he was not yet forty, he now had the same wings of grey at his temples.
He looked away, the anguish in his eyes too hard to bear. Warsaw had fallen before he could reach his loved ones – and there had been no word from them since.