All My Tomorrows (22 page)

Ruby shifted back into the shadows and, after a moment’s thought, returned to writing her letter. She didn’t think it was wise to tell her mother or Fred Bowman exactly where she was, but she described the town, her billet and the job at the factory, and said she was well. It wasn’t a long letter, but she had to concentrate hard on each word, and it took nearly an hour before she’d finished it.

Having addressed the envelope carefully to ‘Mr Bowman Esq., The Tanner’s Arms, Leather Lane, Bow, London’, she licked the stamp, pressed it firmly in place and put the letter in her gas-mask box to be posted first thing tomorrow.

It was getting dark outside now, so she used the outside lavatory and ignored the tin tub hanging on the wall. Returning to the kitchen, she made a strong mug of tea, loaded it with sugar, and after checking on the time, went back to her room.

Once she’d jammed the chair under the doorknob and pulled the blackout curtains, she wound up the cheap clock, put the hands to the correct time and set the alarm. Then she drank her tea, stripped off her clothes and had a good wash in the basin before rinsing out her underwear and leaving it to dry on the towel rail. Tomorrow, she vowed, she would find out where the public baths were.

The house was very quiet, so when she heard the soft click of the front door closing she stilled instantly, the hairs rising on the back of her neck. The door to the kitchen was being opened now, followed by muffled footsteps on the hall carpet and the creak of the bottom stair.

Ruby slipped on her clean pants and vest, turned off the light and sat on the edge of the bed and watched the door. The illuminated dial of her new clock showed it was eight-thirty, and that definitely wasn’t the heavy-footed Marjory Fraser coming up the stairs.

She didn’t have long to wait before she saw the doorknob turning. She held her breath, but the door didn’t budge, and with a hiss of annoyance, the footsteps retreated back down the stairs.

Her mouth was dry and her heart was hammering against her ribs as she sank back into the pillows with relief. Her instincts had been proved right once again and she was very relieved that she’d followed them, for she’d known from the moment Harold Fraser had glanced back at her window that he’d return early in the hope of catching her in the bath.

The thought of those greedy little eyes trawling all over her made her shiver, and she vowed that she’d never use that tin tub. She opened the blackout curtains and lay on her bed watching the moon rise above the rooftops as her thoughts raced. Harold clearly couldn’t be trusted, and although she could lock herself away in here at night, she couldn’t avoid him completely. It was like living with Ray all over again – her nerves on a knife-edge, waiting for him to pounce.

The woman at the billeting office had said to go to her with any problem she might have, but would she be believed? She doubted it very much, for the Frasers were hugely respected in this town and she was an outsider. They would think of her as a troublemaker – which would not only jeopardise her chances of getting another billet, but probably get her the sack from Harold’s friend’s factory as well.

Perhaps she could ask Lucy if her mother would be willing to take her in? But then how could she possibly explain why she needed to leave the Frasers, who were clearly great friends of Lucy’s family? It was an impossible situation, she realised, and until something happened to change it, she was stuck here to fight her corner alone.

She closed her eyes on the tears that threatened, refusing to let them fall and weaken her resolve. She’d been through worse and would survive – but at this very moment, all she really wanted was the feel of her mother’s loving arms around her, and the consolation of hearing her voice again.

Chapter Thirteen

AS THE DAY
had waned the women had drifted back to their own homes and the men had finished their building work. Doris settled into Peggy’s bedroom and began to write lists of all the things she wanted done over the next few days. Phyllis sulkily peeled the vegetables for the evening meal while Rita, Fran and Ron found an inordinate number of things to do that kept them out of the kitchen and as far from Doris as possible. Even Harvey was affected by the tension, for he never left Ron’s side as he worked in the garden.

Ron had waylaid Sarah, Jane and Suzy as they had come home from work, and prepared them as best he could for Doris’s presence in the house. Jane and Sarah had yet to meet Peggy’s sister and therefore didn’t really know what to expect, but Ron painted a picture that left them in little doubt that she was a very different kettle of fish to Peggy.

He’d warned them not to say a word to Peggy about the upset Doris had already caused, or about the damage that had been done to Beach View during the raid. None of them had looked very happy about keeping things from Peggy – and Suzy was horrified at the thought of having Doris at such close quarters – but as they didn’t want to worry Peggy while she was so ill, they accepted his reasoning and promised to try and avoid any further confrontation.

Ron had done all he could to take the sting out of a nasty situation, and now he’d taken himself off with Harvey, his pipe and newspaper to his resurrected shed for a bit of peace and quiet before he went to the hospital with Rita to pick up Cordelia and Daisy. The warm, mild weather continued as the sun slowly sank beyond the rooftops, and it was very pleasant sitting here in a deckchair in the shed doorway looking out at the garden.

The pile of hard core would be collected by the council workers in the morning to be used to fill bomb craters in the roads, or as foundations for the emergency housing they were building up behind the station. The bonfire had long since gone out, leaving a pile of ash in the corner which, once cold, he would dig in round his surviving vegetables as a good fertiliser.

Sarah and Jane had taken in the washing now it was dry and were planning to iron it after tea, Fran and Phyllis were cooking the evening meal under the gimlet eye of Doris, and Suzy was checking on Cordelia’s bedroom to make sure everything was ready for her return from hospital.

Ron’s pleasant reverie was broken by Rita. ‘I’ve borrowed one of the fire station vans,’ she said. ‘It’s time we went to fetch Cordelia and Daisy.’

Ron eyed the three brown paper parcels in her arms. ‘What are those for?’

‘Clean clothes for Daisy and Grandma Finch, and nightclothes and wash bag for Peggy,’ she replied. ‘Suzy sorted them out because of course the clothes they’d been wearing would be filthy after all that rubbish fell on them, and Peggy will need a nightdress and hairbrush and things.’

The thought of clean clothing had never occurred to him – but then he had a house full of women who were adept at spotting such needs, and for once, he was grateful for it. He tipped some dog biscuit into a bowl and carried it into the scullery, where he ordered Harvey to stay until one of the girls let him out. Shutting the doors to the kitchen and garden firmly on his pitiful howls, he could only hope he didn’t carry on like that for too long, otherwise he and Harvey would get it in the neck from Doris.

Rita drove the small van along Camden Road and into the hospital forecourt. Parking close to the steps so Cordelia wouldn’t have far to walk, they hurried inside.

‘I’ll collect Daisy while you fetch Grandma Finch,’ said Rita as they both reached the landing at the top of the long flight of stairs and she handed him one of the parcels. ‘Then we’ll drop in quickly on Peggy so we can give her the nightclothes and she can see that Daisy and Cordelia are all right before Cissy turns up.’

Ron had forgotten that Cissy was due to visit her mother this evening – but then he’d had so many things to worry about over the past few hours it was amazing he still remembered what day it was. ‘Aye. I’ll meet you there,’ he said gruffly.

He strode off towards Women’s Medical while Rita ran up yet another long flight of stairs to get to the nursery. This damned place was like a maze, and totally unsuited to the halt and the lame that had to negotiate the endless corridors and treacherous flights of marble stairs to get anywhere. There was a lift, but it rattled and shuddered so alarmingly that it was used only when absolutely necessary.

He arrived at the ward and peered through the circular windows in the double doors. Cordelia was sitting in a bedside chair in a hospital dressing gown, her arm in a casing of plaster and a sling. Her little face was bruised and he could see scratches on her cheeks and brow where she’d been hit by flying glass and concrete. It was a miracle that any of them had survived, and his heart swelled with deep affection and relief as he pushed through the doors and headed straight for her.

‘How are you, old girl?’ he asked awkwardly.

Fierce blue eyes glared back at him despite the twitch of a smile at the corners of her mouth. ‘I’m extremely well, thank you – old fellow. What kept you? It’s almost six and I’ve been waiting for hours to get out of this place.’

‘We’ve had a bit of a busy day, Cordelia, and as you were safely tucked in here, you were not at the top of my list of priorities.’ He grinned and winked at her as he dumped the parcel of clothing on the bed. ‘Suzy packed you some clean clothes,’ he muttered. ‘Will you need help getting dressed?’

Her eyes widened and she went scarlet. ‘Not from you, you old rogue. Ask one of the nurses to come and help me.’

Ron backed away quickly, found a nurse and hovered by the doors as the curtains were drawn around the bed. He felt uneasy as he stood there under the curious gaze of eleven women in their nightclothes, and could only hope that Cordelia would hurry up.

The double doors swung back and almost pinned him to the wall as the doughty figure of Matron strode into the ward. Her gimlet gaze fell on him immediately. ‘Mr Reilly,’ she boomed. ‘What are you doing lurking on my ward?’

He knew her of old, for he’d once been a patient here and had made his escape from her and the torture of this hospital on the back of Rita’s motorbike. That escapade had become a bit of a legend in Cliffehaven, and rumour had it that she’d never quite forgiven him. ‘I’m here to take Mrs Finch home,’ he replied.

‘Then you can wait in the corridor.’ She held a door open and he edged through it. ‘Men are not allowed on this ward outside visiting time,’ she said flatly.

Ron dared to glance at the clock on the wall. ‘To be sure, Matron, there’s but a minute to go, and Cordelia—’

‘I’ve had quite enough nonsense from you, Mr Reilly. You’ll do as you’re told and stay here.’ With that, she let the doors slam together again and marched off down the ward to Cordelia’s bed.

Ron chewed on the stem of his pipe, not quite daring to light it in case Matron appeared again and did something unpleasant with it. ‘Come on, Cordelia. What’s taking you so long?’ he muttered as he paced back and forth.

The minutes dragged by and eventually a little nurse held the doors open as another steered a regal Cordelia from the ward in a wheelchair. It seemed Matron was thankfully busy at the far end of the ward.

‘Here we are, Mr Reilly,’ the nurse said with a beaming smile. ‘Mrs Finch is to rest and take it easy for a while, and here is an Outpatients’ appointment for six weeks’ time when the doctor will remove the plaster cast.’

Cordelia beamed and thanked both the girls before she looked up at Ron. ‘I’d like to visit Peggy and make sure she’s all right before we go home,’ she said as the nurse settled the parcel of dirty clothes in her lap.

‘Aye, we’re meeting Rita and Daisy there before Cissy arrives.’ He grasped the wheelchair handles. ‘Are you ready, old girl? Hang on then, off we go.’

‘Ron, stop it,’ she protested with a giggle as they sped down the corridor. ‘You’re going far too fast and it’s making me giddy.’

‘Ach, to be sure, ’tis giddy you’ve always been, Cordelia, and it’s nice to see you smiling again.’ He slowed down and followed the signs to Women’s Surgical, assured that he wouldn’t get it in the neck from Matron now it was officially visiting time.

Peggy was feeling slightly more awake and able to take in things more clearly. She had shed some tears through the day for her lost baby and for the absence of her darling Jim who had yet to telephone home. How she longed to feel his strong arms about her, to know he was close and would help her to see this thing through. But of course he couldn’t be here and she should be grateful for the caring skills of the lovely nurses, for the pain was being managed, and it only hurt now if she coughed or moved too quickly.

She was resting back on a mound of pillows, Daisy held tightly to her side in the crook of her arm. It was far too painful to lift her and of course she couldn’t take any pressure on her poor stomach. ‘She’s so lovely,’ she murmured as she softly fingered back the dark curls and blinked back her tears. ‘Thank God she wasn’t hurt, Rita. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost her as well.’

‘We’re all thankful no one was seriously hurt last night,’ Rita replied. ‘It was a miracle, really, considering how much damage was done further up the hill.’

Peggy immediately looked concerned. ‘Was it very bad at Beach View, Rita? Is it still safe to live there?’

Rita patted her hand. ‘As safe as it’s ever been,’ she soothed. ‘There was a bit of damage to the scullery, but a couple of my friends at the fire station soon fixed that, and a whole army of women turned up to clean the place from top to bottom.’

‘Oh, how kind,’ Peggy sighed. ‘How very thoughtful of them to do such a thing when they must have their own homes and families to look after.’

‘They did it because they love you, Auntie Peg,’ said Rita, ‘and because you’ve always been a good friend and neighbour.’

Peggy hugged Daisy close, her little finger closely grasped by a tiny hand. ‘People are so good, aren’t they?’ she murmured. ‘I feel very blessed.’

She looked up and saw Ron struggling to wheel Cordelia through the double doors. ‘Oh my goodness,’ she breathed. ‘Poor Cordelia.’ Tears blinded her as she noted the bruises and cuts and the arm in the sling. She was a selfish, thoughtless woman, for she’d been so wrapped up in her own misery that she hadn’t given darling Cordelia more than a passing thought.