Always in My Heart (15 page)

‘Doris certainly likes everything neat and tidy,’ murmured Peggy to her sleeping baby. ‘But I bet she got someone else to clean those windows and rake the drive.’ She pushed the pram over the shingle – which wasn’t easy, for it was quite dense – and headed for the front door, which was set back beneath a neat porch.

She rapped the iron knocker, heard the sound echo through the house, and began to fret. Perhaps it would have been better to telephone first, she thought. It was silly to walk all this way and then find Doris wasn’t at home.

She rapped again and then stood on the porch with its clean doormat and eyed the deep bay windows which looked out onto the front garden. Regimented rows of daffodils and crocuses sprouted between the snowdrops and dormant perennials, and the grass had been trimmed at the edges. Not a weed had dared to
mar the dark flower beds, nor a leaf left to lie on the lush grass beneath the tree.

The sound of a bolt being drawn brought her attention back to the front door. Steeling herself, she plastered on a smile.

Doris stood in the doorway dressed in a silk blouse, tweed skirt and two-tone high-heeled shoes. Her make-up was immaculate, her hair freshly washed and set – but her expression was unwelcoming. ‘Good grief,’ she said. ‘What on earth are
you
doing here?’

‘Daisy and I needed some fresh air,’ said Peggy, ‘and I wanted to ask you something.’

Doris looked a bit shifty as she remained in the doorway and effectively barred Peggy’s entrance. ‘You should have telephoned first,’ she said as she fiddled with the string of pearls round her neck. ‘It’s not awfully convenient at the moment.’

Peggy stood her ground. ‘Why? Who have you got in there? One of your old titled cronies? Don’t worry, I won’t show you up, but I do need to use your lav. It’s a long walk from Beach View and this cold weather …’

‘For goodness’ sake,’ Doris hissed. ‘Have you no shame, Margaret? Whatever would the neighbours think if they heard you talking about such things on the doorstep?’

Peggy hated being called Margaret, and Doris knew it. ‘I really couldn’t care less,’ she replied. ‘Now, are you going to let me in or not?’

Doris shifted from one well-shod foot to another
and ran her manicured hands down her tweed skirt. ‘It’s a little awkward,’ she said.

Peggy couldn’t resist teasing her. ‘Have you got your lover in there? Or are you and Ted in the middle of something naughty?’

Doris reared back her head, chin quivering as her eyes became flinty. ‘Don’t be vulgar, Margaret. I simply have Anthony visiting, and we have private matters to discuss before he has to return to his extremely important work with the MOD.’

Peggy chuckled. Even in high dudgeon, Doris couldn’t resist bragging. ‘That’s perfect,’ she spluttered. ‘Anthony is just the person I need to talk to.’

‘Why?’

‘You’ll find out when you remember your manners and let me in,’ she retorted.

Doris looked extremely put out about the whole thing, but years of social climbing and caring about what the neighbours might think won her over and she stepped back and held the door open so Peggy could struggle alone to get the pram into the hall.

‘I hope she doesn’t start crying,’ she said with a sniff. ‘I’ve suffered the most fearful headache these past few days and simply couldn’t bear it.’

‘She’ll sleep for another hour yet,’ replied Peggy, her fingers crossed behind her back as she kicked the brake into place. ‘Is there any chance of a cuppa after I’ve used your lav? Only I’m parched.’

‘Lavatory, Margaret. Don’t be so common.’ She turned on her heel. ‘We’re in the drawing room,’ she
said over her shoulder. ‘The tea is already made. I’ll get the girl to bring another cup.’

Peggy’s sympathies were with the young woman who came in to clean, and wondered vaguely why she didn’t find a better paid job in a factory. Anything had to be easier than running after Doris all day for a pittance.

Peggy used the downstairs cloakroom, which was terribly posh with lovely tiles, a big iron radiator which warmed expensive fluffy towels, and even a slab of perfumed soap to wash one’s hands. She could have stayed in there all day.

The drawing room was filled with sunlight. The panoramic sea view – seen through the tape crisscrossed over the deep bay window – was quite magnificent, and Peggy always felt as if she was on a luxury cruise liner when she paid one of her rare visits here.

Anthony stood as she entered the room. He was tall and a little too slender, but he had a pleasant smile, nice brown eyes behind dark-framed spectacles, and a shock of rather unruly brown hair. Dressed in casual corduroy trousers, brogues and a sweater, he looked every inch the Oxford graduate. ‘Hello, Aunt Peg. You look well. How’s Daisy?’

Peggy gave him a hug and kissed his cheek. ‘Daisy’s asleep, and I feel ready for a cup of tea after that long walk. It’s quite brisk out there, you know.’ She pulled off the woolly hat, slipped off her coat and fox pelt and carefully sat down on the expensively covered couch.
It didn’t do to dent the plumped cushions or mark the silky upholstery – not in Doris’s drawing room.

Afternoon tea was laid out on a trolley, and her mouth watered as she saw there were sandwiches, biscuits and even a slab of what looked like real ginger cake. The tea was poured into wafer-thin china cups so delicate that Peggy was always terrified of breaking one. But the tea was hot and strong – no doubt one of Ted’s perks for being the manager of the Home and Colonial – and boosted her no end.

Two sandwiches and a slice of cake slipped down very easily as she made small talk with Doris and congratulated Anthony on his presence of mind in bringing the cake.

He smiled shyly at her and pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘I managed to persuade the fortress cook to let me have it,’ he said. ‘She seems to think I need feeding up.’

‘You said you wanted to talk to Anthony,’ said Doris as she fitted a cigarette into a long ebony holder and lit it with her gold lighter.

Peggy turned to her nephew and told him about Cordelia’s dilemma. ‘I know it’s a bit of a long shot,’ she finished. ‘But you were the only person I could think of who might be able to help.’

He ran his fingers through his hair as he thought about it. ‘I might know a man who might know someone who could help,’ he murmured, ‘but it could take some time. The situation in Malaya is tense, to say the least, and the civilians are leaving in droves. Even
if her nephew
was
there before the war, he could be anywhere by now.’

‘I realise that, but Cordelia is fretting, and just knowing that someone’s looking for him will ease her mind no end.’

‘I really don’t know why you feel you have to get involved in other people’s affairs,’ sniffed Doris. ‘After all, Cordelia Finch is only a lodger.’

‘She’s far more than that,’ said Peggy, reaching for her woolly hat. ‘By the way, Doris, what happened to the Galloway family and their neighbours? I see the houses are gone.’

‘They took a direct hit on the same day the cinema was flattened, but luckily both families had already left Cliffehaven. Joanna Galloway is in Cornwall with her children, and the Sandersons are in Wales with their granddaughter.’ She looked rather pointedly at her watch.

Peggy took the hint and picked up her coat. Doris had yet to ask about how Jim was after being blasted out of the cinema, but at least the Galloways and their neighbours were safe.

‘Thanks, Anthony. I’ll wait to hear from you.’ She smiled up at him as he stood to help her with her coat – Anthony always did have lovely manners. ‘Why don’t you pop in to us on your next day off? I know Jim and Ron would love to see you.’

‘That would be nice, thank you, Aunt Peg.’ He gave her a slow, sweet smile as he handed her the ratty bit of fur.

‘That’s fit only for the dustbin,’ said Doris with a shudder. ‘I do hope it hasn’t got any nasty things living in it.’

Peggy wrapped it firmly round her neck, pulled the woolly hat low over her ears, and buttoned her coat. ‘Thanks for the cuppa, Doris,’ she said, and headed for the door.

Anthony took a peek at the sleeping Daisy and then helped Peggy get the pram through the front door and over the shingle driveway. ‘I’ll do my best, Aunt Peg,’ he said, ‘but these are difficult times, with millions of people on the move. Either way, I’ll pop in and see Mrs Finch if you think that would help.’

Peggy grinned. ‘She’d love to see you again. But I can’t promise ginger cake and fine china.’

He smiled back with a mischievous glint in his eye. ‘It’s the company that counts,’ he replied, ‘and I’ve always felt at home in Beach View.’

Peggy gave him a quick hug and headed for home. She was very fond of Anthony, and just wished he could find some lovely girl to marry. But the stumbling block was Doris, of course, for no girl would ever be good enough – and no girl had yet proved she felt strongly enough about Anthony to stand up to her.

There had been no further attacks from the Japanese planes as the endless stream of refugees slowly approached the long causeway which would take them to Singapore Island. But it was soon clear that Singapore itself was a prime target, and after the first of the nightly bombing raids, the two Malay servants disappeared into the swarming melee of the native slums and were never seen again.

Sarah had always liked the Bristows’ bungalow, and as she’d helped Amah and Jane unpack the essentials from the trunks and boxes they had brought with them, she’d felt quite at home. But there was always the fear for Philip, and it overshadowed her days and haunted her nights. The Japanese were swarming all through the peninsula – had he become trapped? Was he still safe, or had he been shot and killed like so many others? It had now been confirmed that the Japanese weren’t taking prisoners, and the knowledge made her sick at heart.

The Singapore she had known and loved had changed since her last visit. Alarmingly, it proved
to be ill-prepared and far from safe, despite the vast number of troops that were arriving daily, and the reinforced defences round the island. The sirens would shriek every night as the bombers roared overhead and the crump of exploding bombs rocked the very foundations of the house. Food was scarce; air-raid shelters weren’t completed; blackout was erratic; water had to be boiled; and the family had taken to sleeping on mattresses beneath Brigadier Bristow’s billiard table. If it hadn’t been for Amah’s knowledge of the native markets, they would have starved.

Jock had not returned to the rubber plantation as he’d planned, for not only would it be foolhardy in the extreme to risk such a journey; he’d come to realise that his family was in terrible danger, and that he had to find some way to get them out of Singapore. The Japanese were closing in rapidly on Kuala Lumpur, and despite their vast numbers, the British and Allied armies had little air or sea support and couldn’t hold them back.

Sarah’s anxiety over Philip’s whereabouts was tempered with worry over her parents. Sybil was looking decidedly off-colour, despite her denials. The scratch on her face was taking its time to heal – although it didn’t seem to have become infected, which was always the danger in the tropics – and she was still suffering from the mosquito bites which formed ugly red lumps on her arms and neck and itched constantly, even though Amah smothered them in her special creams.

By the end of their first week in Singapore, Jock was on the point of exhaustion. He spent his days desperately trying to find a passage for his wife and daughters on one of the ships. He stood in endless queues, badgered officials, tried to pull strings and call in favours – but it seemed the entire white population of Malaya and Singapore were just as determined to get their wives and children out, and there just weren’t enough ships.

Sarah and Jane were playing a board game in the sitting room when they heard the truck pull into the front drive. They looked up expectantly as Jock opened the door, threw his hat on the hall table and strode into the room.

‘Good news,’ he announced, slinging his crumpled jacket over the back of a chair and unfastening the holster at his waist. ‘I’ve got you all a passage on the
Monarch of the Glen
. You leave on the dawn tide for England, the day after tomorrow.’

As Jane congratulated him for being so clever, Sarah was overwhelmed with mixed emotions. ‘But you’re coming with us, aren’t you? It’s pretty clear by now that you can’t go back to the plantation.’

Jock locked the pistol in a drawer, poured the last of the Brigadier’s whisky into a glass and swallowed it down. ‘I must stay here and help defend Singapore. It’s my duty – and I’m damned if I’ll run away like a rat leaving a sinking ship.’

‘But, Daddy, you aren’t a soldier,’ said Jane, ‘and
we
need you.’

He eyed his daughters fondly. ‘I need to know that you and your mother are safely on your way to England,’ he said. ‘But I also need to do my bit here. Once I don’t have you to worry about, I can focus more clearly.’

‘Your father is right,’ said Sybil as she came into the room. ‘We must all be brave and do as he wishes.’ She gave Jock a wan smile and sank gracefully into a nearby chair. ‘We’re leaving the day after tomorrow, you say? Then you’d better tell us what the arrangements are, so we can be prepared.’

‘Are you feeling all right, Sybil?’ he asked in alarm. ‘You look very flushed.’

‘I am a bit hot, and I have a slight headache,’ she said, dismissing both with a wave of her hand. ‘But I’m sure it’s just the tension of these past few weeks. Don’t fuss, Jock.’

He eyed her suspiciously, but she smiled back at him brightly enough, so he turned and reached into his jacket pocket for a sheaf of papers. ‘We must be on the docks at four in the morning with all your identification documents, and ready to board by five. You will be allowed to take one suitcase each.’

Sybil gasped. ‘But I can’t possibly get everything I’ll need in one case.’

‘Darling, you’ll just have to be careful with your packing,’ said Jock quietly. ‘You won’t need tea dresses and ballgowns, or a hundred pairs of shoes and gloves.’

‘But what about the family silver, and my Meissen
figurines? I can’t just leave them here in Elsa’s bungalow.’