Chapter Seven
‘My sister’s the last person I need today,’ muttered Peggy, as she switched off the Hoover. ‘Just look at the place. My kitchen’s in a mess and the dust’s everywhere.’ She eyed the boarding Ron had put over the shattered windows and sighed. ‘Let’s hope she’s got something more interesting to do than come here for tea.’
Sally had already dusted the dining room and cleared away the glass; now she was on her hands and knees scrubbing the ornate tiles on the hall floor. ‘It doesn’t ’elp ’aving so many people tramping through the place with their muddy boots,’ she muttered. ‘We must’ve ’ad ’alf of Cliffehaven through ’ere this morning.’
‘At least the Salvation Army people will help those poor souls find somewhere to sleep now their houses are wrecked.’
‘Yeah, I suppose a bit of cleaning ain’t nothing compared to what ’appened to them.’ She wiped the cloth over the scrubbed floor and wrung it out into the bucket.
Anne came down the stairs looking pretty in a neat two-piece suit, carrying her overcoat on her arm. ‘I’m sorry I can’t stay and help, but Cissy has promised to finish cleaning the upstairs.’ She gave a hesitant smile. ‘Wish me luck, Mum.’
Peggy kissed her cheek and smiled. ‘You look lovely, darling. They can’t fail to take to you the minute they see you.’
Anne pulled on her coat, checked the seams in her stockings and touched the sweet little felt hat that had been artfully tilted above one eye. ‘You don’t think this is too much, do you?’
‘You look ever so lovely,’ sighed Sally. ‘Just like a film star.’
‘Martin’s been waiting outside long enough,’ said Peggy. ‘Get on with you.’
After a swift kiss for her mother and a nervous grin at Sally, she carefully stepped over the freshly washed floor and was out of the door.
Sally stood on the step, the bucket of dirty water at her feet as Martin tooted the horn and drove away in his very smart car. Anne might have looked nervous, but it was clear she and Martin were very much in love, and Sally wondered, wistfully, if she would ever know such happiness.
Closing the door, she dismissed all thought of John Hicks. As handsome and charming as he was, he wouldn’t want to know her once he realised Sally was committed to raising Ernie. She couldn’t expect any man to take on that kind of responsibility.
She carried the bucket through the kitchen and down to the back garden, where she threw it over Ron’s vegetable garden. On her way back to the kitchen she looked in on the three boys, who were playing with a train set they’d laid out on the floor between the beds. ‘Where’s Ron?’
‘In the outside lav with the Racing Post,’ said Bob solemnly. ‘He said not to disturb him until Aunt Doris has gone.’
‘It’s only three o’clock. She ain’t due till six.’
‘He’s worried she might come earlier if she knows about the gas explosion,’ said Charlie. He looked up from the train. ‘That’s why we’re staying down here,’ he explained. ‘Aunt Doris likes kissing boys, and we hate it, don’t we Bob?’
Bob pulled a face and shuddered dramatically. ‘Her lipstick feels horrible, but Mum says it’s rude to wipe it off straight away.’
‘Old Mother Kemp were the same,’ grimaced Ernie. ‘Yuk.’
Sally left them to it and continued up the steps to the kitchen. Doris sounded an awful woman, and she was glad she would be at work when she arrived.
Glancing at the kitchen clock, she realised she still had half an hour before she’d have to leave. She found a tea towel and got to work drying the cups and dishes that Peggy was stacking on the wooden draining board. The water and electricity had, thankfully, been restored by the engineers two hours ago.
‘I’m sorry I broke a couple of these,’ she said. ‘I hope they weren’t good ones?’
‘Goodness me, no. Most of this stuff dates back to the Ark.’ Peggy finished washing a saucer and added it to the pile. ‘I had a nice chat with John Hicks this morning, by the way,’ she said airily, fishing in the water for another cup.
‘Oh, yes?’ Sally tried not to show she was interested.
‘Mmm. I’ve known his family for years,’ carried on Peggy. ‘He’s a nice lad, but what happened to him was terribly sad.’ Peggy left the statement to hang between them.
Sally smiled. ‘You’d never make a good poker player, Peggy. Go on, you’re obviously dying to tell me all about John Hicks.’
‘He was married once,’ she said. ‘Suzy and he were barely out of school – and in hindsight, they probably knew they wouldn’t have much time together. Suzy was ill, you see, very ill. She was dead before they could celebrate their first anniversary.’ Peggy stared out of the window, her hands deep in the suds. ‘Leukaemia, it was. Poor little girl.’
Sally had heard similar stories back home, but they never failed to touch her heart. ‘That’s really sad,’ she murmured.
‘Yes. They’d been childhood sweethearts and John took it very badly.’
‘That’s hardly surprising.’ She bit her lip. ‘How long ago was this?’
‘Four years. They were both only eighteen.’ Peggy continued washing the dishes. ‘John’s made of sterner stuff than anyone realised, and although he went round like a ghost, he didn’t give in like some would have done.’ Peggy vigorously scrubbed a pan. ‘He was already working for the fire service as an apprentice, and from that moment on he seemed driven to prove himself. He was always the one up the highest ladder, or the first into a burning house – it was as if his own safety didn’t matter.’
‘He seems all right now,’ said Sally, putting the damp tea towel over the rail in front of the range to dry. ‘In fact,’ she added, ‘he’s a bit too full of ’imself for my liking.’
Peggy laughed. ‘You don’t fool me, young Sally. You’re smitten, and going by what we all saw this morning, so is John.’
Sally went bright red. ‘He don’t know nothing about me,’ she muttered.
‘He knows enough,’ said Peggy softly. ‘We had quite a chat this morning, and I told him about Ernie, and what a good little mother you are to him. I made it clear that you were only sixteen and I wouldn’t have him messing you about, and that if he was really interested in you, then he’d have to accept you and Ernie came as a pair.’
‘Oh.’ Sally could feel her heart bang painfully against her ribs. ‘What did ’e say to that?’
Peggy leant against the sink and folded her arms, her eyes bright with laughter. ‘He asked me if it would be all right to call in sometime and perhaps take you both out to tea. I said it was fine by me, but it was ultimately your decision.’
Sally tried to think, but it seemed her brain was scrambled.
‘I gave him our telephone number, so I expect we’ll hear from him quite soon. What shall I tell him, Sally?’
‘Tell ’im … tell ’im me and Ernie would like a cup of tea – but it would be better to ’ave it ’ere.’ She looked at Peggy, knowing her face was scarlet. ‘Now, I gotta go to work.’
‘I’ll try and get the ingredients together to make a cake,’ Peggy called after her as she shot out of the kitchen.
Sally was grinning as she took the stairs two at a time, grabbed the almost-finished dress along with her coat and gas mask, and flew back down the stairs and out of the door.
It was a dreary, cold day, but she hardly noticed as she ran down the street. There was a warm glow inside her, and it felt as if she had wings on her feet, and was floating on a cloud. John Hicks knew her situation, but still wanted to come to tea. Now she knew exactly how Anne felt.
Sally was still smiling as she arrived at the factory and clocked in. If only Pearl was at work today, she could have told her about John and asked her advice on what to wear, and what to do and say. But Pearl was on nights this week, and wouldn’t be sitting beside her. Her exciting news would have to wait until the end of the shift when they’d have a few moments to catch up.
She hurried inside and went straight to the girl who’d ordered the dress. Handing over the carefully wrapped brown paper parcel, she waited for her reaction.
‘It’s lovely,’ the girl breathed, holding it up. ‘You’re ever so clever, Sally. What do you think, girls?’
Sally reddened at their praise. ‘I’ll do the hem in the break. Stand still a mo, and I’ll pin it up to the right length.’
With the women’s praise still ringing in her ears, and the dress carefully rewrapped under her arm, Sally hurried to her seat, took off her coat, stowed the parcel on the shelf beneath the machine and sat down. The dress had done the trick and now there were two more customers who had things they wanted altered and brought up to date. Her little business was beginning to really flourish.
She was about to check the machine for sabotage when she realised her cushion was wet, and it was soaking through her skirt. With a gasp of horror, she sprang from the chair and inspected the damage. There was a large, suspiciously yellow patch spreading right across the seat of her light brown skirt. She sniffed the cushion and flinched at the sour reek of urine.
‘Oh, do look!’ screeched Iris from across the room. ‘Sally Turner’s wet ’erself. What’s the matter, girl, forgot yer nappy today, did yer?’
Sally picked up the sodden cushion between finger and thumb and advanced on Iris, all too aware that everyone was watching, eager to see what would happen.
Iris stood to meet her, hands on hips, malicious smile on her face. ‘Ooh,’ she said, ‘I’m frightened. What ya gunna do, little mouse?’
‘Give yer back what’s yours,’ she replied grimly, and swiped the stinking, sodden cushion right across Iris’s face.
Iris screeched and batted it away in horror and disgust. ‘You bitch,’ she shouted, scrubbing frantically at her face with the hem of her cardigan. ‘I’ll ’ave yer eyes for that.’
Sally stood her ground, even though Iris was sturdier and several inches taller. ‘You wanna fight? Come on then. Let’s see what yer made of without yer mates to back yer up.’
Iris stopped scrubbing at her face and looked round. She suddenly didn’t seem quite so sure of herself. ‘I’ll still ’ave you,’ she growled, her fingers clawed as she took a step towards Sally.
‘Sit down Iris,’ barked one of the women nearby as she grabbed her arm.
‘Let go of me you old cow,’ stormed Iris, wresting herself from her meaty grip. ‘This is none of your bloody business.’
The big woman at the end of the row stood up, arms akimbo, and gently moved Sally to one side to make way for the others who had risen with her. ‘We can make it our business,’ she said evenly.
‘You don’t frighten me.’ Iris had a hunted look in her eye despite her words, and she took another step back to discover she was trapped against the end of the table.
The women moved as one to surround her. ‘We’re sick of you bullying the young ones and getting up to your nasty tricks, Iris. Any more of it and we’ll show you how we treat bullies round ’ere.’ The big woman was almost nose to nose with her now. ‘And it won’t be pretty, Iris. I can promise you that.’
‘Here, Sally,’ muttered one of the women nearby, ‘take this and get that skirt off. I’ll rinse it through for you.’
Sally took the enormous wrap-round apron and slipped her arms through it before tying it round her waist and stepping out of the skirt.
The skirt was snatched away as Simmons appeared with his clipboard and a thunderous expression.
‘What’s going on here?’ he shouted. ‘Why are you women standing about when the whistle went two minutes ago?’
‘It’s nothing, Mr Simmons,’ said the big woman. ‘Iris just needed a bit of advice about something, that’s all.’
He noticed someone moving among the group. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he snapped. ‘Lav,’ she said, hiding Sally’s skirt behind her back. ‘I got the runs something chronic.’
‘Get on with it then,’ he said, his face reddening. He turned to Sally. ‘Get back to your own work-station, before I dock your pay,’ he roared.
‘I need to go to the lav as well,’ said Iris.
‘Well, you can’t. You spend too much time in there as it is.’
With his attention taken up with Iris, the big woman swiftly picked up the cushion by its corner and planted it on Iris’s chair.
‘Get to work, the lot of you,’ Simmons roared, ‘or I’ll give you your cards.’
Sally scurried back and quickly swopped chairs. There were always plenty to choose from as the Sunday shift was less popular. She looked over to the other side of the room just in time to see Iris leap from her chair with a squeal of anguish.
She smiled as the other women roared with laughter and Iris shoved Simmons to one side as she dashed to the washrooms. Justice had been done.
‘I tried to ring you, to see if you were all right,’ said Doris, as Peggy opened the front door. ‘But of course all the lines were down.’ She sniffed and eyed the crater at the end of the road, and the boarded-up windows, as if decrying the untidiness of it all. ‘We aren’t careless enough to suffer gas explosions at our end of town.’
‘That’s nice for you,’ said Peggy flatly. Doris was almost an hour early, and although she’d had time to wash and change into her new frock, she wasn’t nearly ready to put up with her airs and graces.
‘I’ve had to park the car right down the road,’ she complained. ‘I do hope it will be safe. One can’t be sure in this neighbourhood.’
Peggy gritted her teeth and refused to rise to the bait. ‘Give me your coat and I’ll hang it up.’
‘I’d rather keep it on. It’s mink, you know, and this house is always freezing.’ She stepped into the hallway clutching the mink to her as if afraid it might get tainted by touching anything. ‘I do hope you’ve got some decent sherry for a change. I can’t abide that wishy-washy stuff you dish out.’
‘There’s no sherry,’ said Peggy. ‘You’ll have to make do with tea like the rest of us.’
Her look said it all, reminding Peggy of a disgruntled pug dog that had been denied a biscuit. With a sigh of resignation, she followed Doris, who’d swept into the dining room and placed her expensive leather handbag on the one comfortable armchair. Doris didn’t sit in kitchens. She regarded such behaviour as common.
‘I see you’ve got the Singer out again.’ Her gaze travelled from the neck to the hem of Peggy’s new dress as she peeled off her leather gloves. ‘I must say, Margaret, your skills have certainly come on since the last time you tried to make anything. That could almost be shop-bought.’
Doris was the only person in the family to insist upon calling her Margaret, and Peggy suspected she only did it because she knew how much it irritated her. ‘Sally made the dress. I’m still hopeless at sewing,’ she replied.
‘Sally?’ The carefully plucked eyebrows rose as she placed the gloves inside the handbag and snapped it shut.
‘She’s my evacuee,’ Peggy explained yet again. ‘She and her brother have been living here for two months, as you very well know.’
‘I find it difficult to remember things that don’t interest me,’ she replied dismissively. ‘How you can open your home to such dreadful people is beyond my comprehension.’ She moved towards the fireplace to regard her reflection in the mirror above it. ‘I suppose she’s from the East End, and speaks with some ghastly accent that possesses very few consonants and tortured grammar?’
‘She’s a lovely sweet girl,’ murmured Peggy, ‘and I won’t have you talking about her like that.’
Doris turned from the mirror and eyed the dress again. ‘I’m surprised some chit from the East End knows how to sew,’ she said, ‘but a good dressmaker is a rare find. Send her over to pick up one or two of my cheaper dresses that need altering. If she’s good enough, I might even let her work on some of my better things – but not until she’s proved herself.’
‘Sally’s good enough to work on anything,’ said Peggy stoutly, ‘but she has enough to do without running all over town after you. If you want alterations done, then you’ll have to bring them here.’
Peggy realised she was letting Doris’s attitude get to her and took a deep breath. ‘She charges the going rate,’ she warned. ‘I’ll not have you trying to get sewing done on the cheap just because she’s living here.’
‘As if I would.’ Doris sniffed delicately and returned to admiring her reflection in the mirror. Carefully taking off her hat and placing it on the table, she patted her freshly washed and set hair with a manicured hand.
‘Your hair looks nice,’ Peggy remarked, hoping to defrost her sister’s attitude.
‘Thank you. I had it done yesterday morning.’ Her nose wrinkled as she took in Peggy’s rather untidy hairdo. ‘You should try the salon, Margaret.
A fresh shampoo and set would work wonders, and a little tint of colour would soon get rid of that grey.’
Peggy didn’t even bother to reply. Doris knew very well she had neither the time nor the money for hairdressers. As for the grey, there were only a few wisps of it here and there and she’d chosen to ignore them – unlike Doris, whose hair was a slightly different colour every time she saw her.
She went to make the tea, adding a plate of biscuits and the last of the sponge cake to the tray before carrying it into the dining room.
Doris was smoking one of her Turkish cigarettes, and flicking the ash into a glass flower vase she’d taken from the mantelpiece. The fur was draped becomingly off her shoulders to reveal three rows of pearls at her neck, and a dove-grey two-piece suit. She sat in the armchair, slim legs crossed at the ankles, showing off silk stockings and expensive two-tone shoes.
Peggy thought she looked quite at home and far too elegant for her dining room, which only served to make her even more cross. She grabbed the ashtray and rescued her precious glass vase, noting the suit that had definitely not come from any of the local shops. The pearls were a new acquisition.
She felt the familiar stab of envy Doris always incurred – and hastily dismissed it. Her sister might have money and a lovely detached house, but she was married to Ted, who might be a successful shop manager, but still had to be the most boring, self-satisfied and opinionated man on earth. For all his faults, she wouldn’t swop Jim for a day of Doris’s life.
‘Where are the boys?’
‘They’re out with Ron somewhere,’ she said vaguely, knowing full well they were messing about in Ron’s shed. But as Doris never went near the back garden, she’d never know.
‘I was hoping to see Anne and Cicely, but it appears they too are nowhere to be seen. Really, Margaret, it’s not good enough when I’ve made the journey especially.’
‘Anne’s gone to lunch with Martin’s parents, and Cicely is rehearsing the new show. They knew you were coming, but couldn’t change their arrangements. They send their apologies and hope to see you soon.’
Peggy glanced at the little clock on the mantel, and felt a flutter of apprehension. She did hope everything had gone well for Anne. She liked Martin, and was delighted the two of them seemed so well-matched, but it was always nerve-wracking to meet your sweetheart’s parents for the first time. She could still remember all too well how Ron and Sybil had been less than friendly when they realised the wedding would have to be a hurried one while Jim was on leave.
Doris’s voice broke into her fretful thoughts. ‘And where’s that feckless husband of yours? I see the damp patch is still in the corner, and those window-frames haven’t been painted for years.’
‘He’s at work.’
Her brown eyes widened. ‘Really? How so? The cinema is closed. I saw the notice on the door as I drove past.’
‘He had to go in to check on the new projector and make sure he knows how to work it properly before they open again tonight,’ Peggy replied briskly. She wasn’t about to let her sister cast aspersions on Jim – even though sometimes he wasn’t always where he was meant to be.
Peggy poured the tea. She had dug out the best china, knowing Doris refused to drink from anything else. ‘We’ve been at sixes and sevens today,’ she said, handing her the bone-china cup and saucer and offering the biscuits and cake. ‘I’ve yet to make a start on tea.’
‘Supper, Margaret. One has tea at four o’clock.’ Her disdainful gaze swept over the cake and biscuits before she waved them away. ‘I won’t have time to stay anyway. I have to chair an important committee meeting of the WRVS tonight.’
Peggy eyed her sister without much affection. The old saying was true, she reflected sadly. You could choose your friends, but not your family.
Doris left an hour later and, before her car had reached the seafront, Peggy’s kitchen was invaded by three hungry boys and a thirsty old man. She made more tea, rationed the sugar and milk she put in it and let them loose on the cake and biscuits. She would make a start on the evening meal once she’d had a cigarette and a bit of a sit-down. Doris always wore her out, and she needed a few minutes to gather her senses.
‘I see that sister of yours has had the usual effect,’ muttered Jim, arriving back from the cinema. ‘What’s she done now to upset you?’
‘It’s her high-handed attitude that gets my goat,’ she snapped, ‘and the way she knows how to wind me up tighter than a clock.’ Peggy threw the butt of her cigarette into the coal scuttle and poured him a cup of tea. ‘But today really put the tin lid on it.’
‘Just like Grandpa’s helmet,’ chimed in Charlie, who was busy with a colouring book at the table.
Jim softly cuffed his ear, and they grinned at one another before he turned back to Peggy. ‘What’s she done this time?’
Peggy lit a second cigarette, which was most unlike her, but her nerves were shredded and smoking seemed to calm her. ‘You know that girl who cleans for her? Well, she’s threatened to sack her unless she tells the billeting officer that she’s moved into Doris’s spare room. Doris refuses to take in evacuees, or even servicemen, and it’s the only way she can get around it without falling foul of the authorities.’
‘Is the girl really moving in?’
‘Of course not. Doris wouldn’t let her in the front door unless she’d arrived to scrub the floors and do the ironing.’ She puffed furiously on the cigarette, aware that the three boys were listening to this conversation with avid interest. ‘She even had the nerve to say she wouldn’t take in Doreen and the girls if they turned up.’
‘Why ever not? At least they’re family.’
She pulled a face. ‘Ted doesn’t like his routine disturbed, evidently,’ she said scornfully, ‘and of course that precious son of hers is working for the MoD, and can’t possibly risk having his very important – secret – work compromised by strangers moving into the house.’
‘I’ve always felt a bit sorry for Anthony. He’s a nice young fellow – a bit shy, but with a hell of a brain on him. It’s a pity he’s got such a mother. No wonder he’s never married.’
‘Any self-respecting girl would run a mile at the idea of having her as a mother-in-law,’ said Peggy, blowing smoke. ‘Bossy is not the word to describe her. Do you know what she had the nerve to say to me?’ She didn’t wait for him to reply. ‘She said that as I already had a houseful of waifs and strays, she didn’t think that it would make much difference if I took in Doreen and the girls as well.’
‘Has she heard from Doreen then? Is she coming down?’
Peggy shook her head. ‘Doris tried telephoning her this morning with no luck, and I tried this afternoon. The lines are still down, and the operator has no idea when they’ll be fixed.’
‘There’s no point in getting all steamed up over Doris,’ Jim murmured. ‘She’ll never change. As for Doreen, well, there is plenty of room here, and she’ll be guaranteed a warm welcome. Though I doubt she’ll want to leave London for too long.’
The anger had left Peggy and now she felt rather deflated. ‘Yes, I know, and I’ll gladly take them all – as long as Doris doesn’t keep poking her nose in and causing trouble. You know how those two fight.’
Jim grinned. ‘I do indeed,’ he said, ‘and it’s a sight to see, to be sure.’ He gave her a hug and a kiss and left to buy an evening paper.
Peggy finished her cigarette, ordered the boys to clear the mess from the table before she turned on the wireless for their favourite programme, and went to the walk-in larder to find something to cook for the evening meal. She eyed the bags of sugar with suspicion, and popped them into the empty bread-crock so no-one could see them. If she was caught hoarding such things, they’d all be in trouble.
The sirens went off just as they were about to sit down to mince, cabbage and potato. There was the usual bustle to get everyone safely into the shelter, but fifteen minutes later the all-clear sounded and they were back in the kitchen. The food was lukewarm, but it was eaten with gusto anyway.
The newsreader sounded solemn as they gathered quietly to listen to the wireless after their tea. Russia, in alliance with Germany, had attacked Finland. Barrage balloons were being erected above the more important buildings in London, with more to follow as soon as possible.
He continued with the news that the coalition government were about to debate on the subject of enlistment for, despite the number of men who’d voluntarily signed up for service, it was felt that every man between the ages of nineteen and twenty-seven would be needed to swell the ranks and defeat the enemy. The result of the debate would not be known until the House had conducted a vote. The outcome of this should be declared shortly after Christmas.
They cheered as the newsreader continued with the rousing news that the notorious enemy ship, the Admiral Graf Spee, had finally been hunted down by the British naval ships, Ajax, Achilles and Exeter. Following a fierce battle on the Rio de la Plata (the River Plate), the Graf Spee had been blown up and sunk. All three British ships would be returning home for repairs and a hero’s welcome.
There was a great deal of discussion about the battle and it all became too much for Mrs Finch, who thought they were still fighting the First World War. She’d begun to fret because she couldn’t remember where she’d hidden the pistol her husband, Albert, had given her to protect her honour should the Hun invade while he was away fighting on the Somme.
Peggy had soothed her and made sure she knew what war they were actually fighting before helping her upstairs and into bed. If the poor old duck got any more confused, she’d have to watch her more closely, and Peggy hoped it was just today’s unfortunate explosion and the news that were upsetting her and that her mind was unimpaired. She didn’t want her going into a home – they were for people who had no-one to care for them, and Mrs Finch was very much a part of her family now.
Peggy poked her head round her bedroom door half an hour later to discover her fast asleep and snoring with the wireless going full-blast on the bedside table. She turned it off and quietly left her to sleep.
Returning to the kitchen, Peggy kept a constant watch on the clock, wondering where Anne had got to. She hoped the car hadn’t broken down on some lonely country road miles from anywhere – it was so dangerous driving about without proper headlights or streetlamps.
Her own car had been locked away for the duration now petrol was so hard to come by, and she missed the convenience of it. But then there was a war on, and she supposed she’d just have to get used to it, and stop worrying about everything and everyone.
As Sally was still at work, Peggy carried Ernie upstairs a short while later, gave him a bath and tucked him in bed before reading him a story. Anne had told her that his and Sally’s reading was very poor, so Peggy had chosen an easy book with lots of pictures and few words, which she let him follow with his finger.
Once he was drowsy, she stroked back his hair, softly kissed his downy cheek, and turned off the main light. She left the door ajar so she could hear if he called out. He hadn’t wet the bed in weeks, and seemed happier and far healthier than the little waif she’d first taken in.
Bob and Charlie were at the age when they could bath themselves, though they made a terrible mess, and it took ages to get them settled into bed. Having read them a story, she firmly turned off the light and shut their bedroom door, before returning to the kitchen.
Cicely was having an early night for once and, with Ron playing soldiers in the church hall, Jim and Sally at work and Alex on standby at the airfield, the house was quiet. She finished tidying up and took out her knitting. Bob had worn straight through the heel of his socks; although she’d darned them, he still needed another pair.
She looked up when she heard the key in the front door, and glanced at the clock. It was too early to be Sally. She put down her knitting, expecting to see Anne at any moment. There was the sound of shoes being kicked off, and the rustle of a coat being shed. Then there was a long silence – followed by a muffled sob.
Peggy was out of the chair immediately. She rushed into the icy hall, took one look at her daughter’s face and wrapped her in her arms. ‘Anne, darling, whatever is the matter?’
‘Oh, Mum,’ she sobbed into her shoulder. ‘It was awful. Simply awful.’
‘Come on, darling. Let’s get into the warm so we can talk properly.’ She steered her into the kitchen and sat her down in the armchair before perching on the arm. ‘What happened?’ she asked quietly, the girl’s heart-rending tears making her want to cry in sympathy.
‘Martin and I are finished,’ she sobbed. ‘It’s all over.’
Peggy waited until the storm of tears had ebbed somewhat before she tried to get any sense out of her. ‘But he loves you – and you love him. What happened to change that?’
Anne blew her nose and angrily took off her suit jacket. ‘His bloody awful family,’ she hissed.
Peggy was startled. It was unlike Anne to swear. Something really bad must have happened today, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. ‘You’d better start at the beginning, love, and tell me everything.’
Anne’s worst fears had been realised, and she could still feel the debilitating sense of inferiority that his parents had invoked during that torturous lunch.
Her first sight of the long driveway that ran from imposing gates to the even more imposing manor house should have warned her, but she’d allowed her common sense to be drowned with hope. She could still hear Martin blithely talking about the two farms and the pheasant shoot, as he mentioned gamekeepers and gardeners, and pointed out magnificent stables, dense woodland and manicured gardens.
‘I knew it was a mistake the minute I saw that house,’ she said, her voice rough with tears, as she kept tight control of her emotions. ‘Martin never warned me it was a manor house, set on an estate that has been in the family for at least five generations.’
‘Good heavens,’ gasped Peggy. ‘I never realised. He seems so ordinary.’
Anne gave a bitter laugh. ‘He’s not ordinary at all,’ she replied. ‘He was educated at Eton and Oxford and followed his father – Air Marshal Black – into the Royal Air Force as a Commissioned Officer. His father has the ear of the War Cabinet, his sister is engaged to some idiot with a title and no chin – and his mother is on just about every committee known to the human race.’
‘So’s your Aunt Doris,’ she replied dryly. ‘But that doesn’t make her anything special.’
Anne could feel the return of that awful humiliation. It swept over her, making her feel nauseous. She had been greeted coolly by his mother whose first scathing glance had condemned her as ‘not one of them’ and his father had glared at her from beneath his heavy brows as if she was some poacher caught with a brace of pheasant under her coat. His sister and her fiancé were distantly polite and, after a detached greeting, had proceeded to ignore her.
A parlour maid had taken her coat and hat and, after a stilted, bland conversation over sherry, they’d gone into the dining room. Another maid had served at the table, which had been laid with a confusing amount of cutlery and glassware. She had felt his mother’s eyes on her, watching and waiting for her to pick up the wrong piece of silverware. It had made her clumsy, and she’d knocked over a glass of red wine which spread with distressing rapidity over the pristine white linen tablecloth.
‘I do know which knife and fork to use,’ she said bitterly, ‘but with them watching me I got clumsier and clumsier. The wine went everywhere, and although she said it didn’t matter, I caught the look she shot at her husband. It was as if it simply confirmed that I didn’t belong at her table, let alone in her house.’
‘Oh, Anne, darling. How awful for you. What horrid people.’
‘As if that wasn’t bad enough they started to interrogate me. They wanted to know where I was educated, where I taught, what my father did.’ She fell silent, mortified that she’d been made to feel ashamed of her family.
‘Perhaps they were just interested?’
‘No they weren’t. They simply wanted to make it abundantly clear that I wouldn’t be accepted into their privileged, blinkered little world. His mother even managed to mention some girl called Annabelle at every opportunity – and ever so subtly suggest she had high hopes of her and Martin becoming engaged.’
‘What did Martin have to say about all this?’
‘He was furious,’ she admitted. ‘He told his parents that he was horrified they had behaved so badly and that, whether they liked it or not, Annabelle and he had long since split, and now could barely stand one another.’
‘Good for him,’ murmured Peggy.
Anne lit a cigarette and stared into the fire. ‘We left halfway through lunch, and Martin was so angry he was driving far too fast. I was frightened we’d have an accident and begged him to stop for a while so he could cool down.’
They had sat in the car without speaking for a while, both too upset to say anything. Anne could barely see through her tears, but she’d been determined to remain calm and in control of her emotions as Martin smoked one cigarette after another in furious silence.
‘You obviously had to discuss things,’ said Peggy, sitting opposite her and taking her hand. ‘I hope neither of you rushed into hasty decisions because of what happened?’
‘Martin finally calmed down enough to speak coherently,’ she murmured. ‘He was full of apology for his family’s disgraceful behaviour – and said he’d been shocked at how hostile they’d been. He went on to explain that he and Annabelle had met at Oxford, and both families had hoped they would marry – but it had never been a great love affair, and had soon petered out, and now she was engaged to some boffin at the MoD.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ said Peggy, ‘but I get the feeling that this entire episode will have a lasting effect on both of you.’
‘It shook me rigid,’ she confessed. ‘But Martin’s more determined than ever that we should marry. He begged me to ignore his parents’ old-fashioned views.’ Anne looked at her mother through her tears. ‘But how could I, Mum? Girls like me don’t marry men like him. I don’t fit into their world, and sooner or later it will become obvious even to him.’
‘Oh, Anne. I’m so very sorry.’ Peggy clasped her fingers. ‘But you mustn’t let those people make you feel unworthy. You have a great deal to be proud of, and have every right to keep your head high and rise above their snobbery.’
‘Easier said than done,’ murmured Anne.
‘You said it was over between you,’ said Peggy. ‘Did you mean that, Anne?’
She nodded and blew her nose. ‘Martin pleaded with me to reconsider – to take time and think about it, and not rush into any hasty decisions. But it would only delay the inevitable, and cause us both more hurt. I told him it was over – and I meant it.’ Her voice broke on a sob.
Anne could still see the devastation in his eyes, could hear him pleading with her – threatening to keep ringing and writing until she changed her mind. She’d been so tempted to give in, and to hell with his damned family. But she knew it could never work. Not ever. ‘But I love him so,’ she whispered. ‘I really do.’ The tears streamed down her face. ‘Oh, Mum. What am I going to do without him?’
Peggy held her close, murmuring soft words in her ear, rocking her as she’d done when Anne was small. But her mother’s words and her embrace couldn’t mend her broken heart, couldn’t stem the bitter tears, or erase the humiliating knowledge that she wasn’t considered good enough to be Martin’s wife.
Sally had come in quietly, expecting everyone to be asleep. She’d taken off her shoes and was about to creep up the stairs when she’d heard voices in the kitchen.
About to go in and say good night, she’d frozen outside the door when she’d heard Anne’s heart-rending sobs. Through Anne’s tears, Sally had heard every word she’d said. And, as she’d listened, she’d felt a chill run through her that dashed the small ray of hope that had burnt so brightly all day.
Anne was the most educated person she knew, with a degree and everything. She spoke nicely, was pretty and had lovely manners, knew how to dress and how to hold her knife properly – Sally had been taking note of all this, and had tried to copy her, but there was so much to learn it was difficult to remember it all. How could anyone possibly think Anne wouldn’t make a perfect wife?
Furious that someone as lovely as Anne should be so badly treated, she’d remained in the hallway, tempted to rush in and offer her own comfort. But as she listened to her tale of woe, a dawning sense of dread came over her. If Anne wasn’t considered good enough, then what chance did she have of ever being someone’s wife? She couldn’t read and write very well, her mother was a good-time girl and the family came from one of the poorest streets in Bow.
She thought of John Hicks, and the fledgling hope she’d carried through the day withered and died. He might not be from a posh, wealthy family, but he was educated, talked nicely, and was in a position of command at the fire station. He probably saw her for what he thought she was, and had decided she’d be just the right girl for a bit of fun.
Sally felt the heat of her tears roll down her cheeks. A girl like her wasn’t good enough for a man like him – just as Martin’s family didn’t think Anne was good enough for them. The class system was rigid, the barriers sharply defined, and only trouble could come for anyone who defied those barriers.
As Anne burst into tears again in the kitchen, Sally crept up the stairs, grabbed the coat she used as a dressing gown, and silently closed the bathroom door.
Stripping off the overall and stinking knickers she’d been forced to wear all day, she hung the damp, but clean skirt over the back of the chair and had a strip wash. Using the same water, she laundered the knickers, pulled on the coat and tiptoed back to her room. She dragged the nightdress Peggy had lent her over her head and crawled into bed. It was a long time before she fell asleep.