Always in My Heart (45 page)

I would have come and told you all this if I’d had the chance, but the sudden turn of events means I have to leave Cliffehaven almost immediately, and I have to trust my brother to give you this letter, which comes from my heart.

I received a telephone call an hour ago, and I am writing this while I wait for Tommy to arrive so I can
leave him in charge of the pub and catch the last train. Jack’s hospital took a direct hit and only a few of the patients and staff got out alive. The survivors have been moved to another secure hospital, but Jack was completely traumatised by the air raid, and the doctor who rang told me that he’d begun calling out for me, begging me to come and save him.

Of course I agreed to go to him immediately, but I’m frightened by what I might find, and have no idea how long I shall be away. I will be staying in a boarding house I’ve used before, and the address is at the top of this letter.

I do love you, Ron, even though I know I shouldn’t, and if you can forgive me for the way I’ve treated you recently, then please write. I need your friendship, love and support more than ever now, and I’m fearful that I might have lost it.

Rosie x

Ron sniffed back his tears and tenderly tucked the letter back in the envelope and placed it in the breast pocket of his shirt. His first instinct was to catch the next train out of Cliffehaven and rush to be with her. But reason slowly took over and he knew that was not only impossible, but unwise. Rosie needed to come to terms with what was happening to her poor insane husband, and he had to stay here and look after the family.

He fastened the straps and buckles tightly round the cases and vented all his frustration and fury on them
by throwing them as hard as he could down the stairs. He stomped after them and kicked them into the cellar, where he hoped they’d rot. Slamming the door on them and feeling much better, he checked the time. A letter could take days to get to her, and he couldn’t bear the thought of her all alone and believing he hadn’t cared enough to reply.

Locking the side door behind him, he swung onto his bike and set off for the Post Office. He would send her a telegram to say he’d only just got her letter, and that there was nothing to forgive. Then he would rope in Peggy and any of the other girls who might be at Beach View and get stuck into cleaning up the Anchor, ready for this evening’s session. There was nothing like a bit of hard work to blow away the cobwebs.

He was grinning like a Cheshire cat as he sped towards the Post Office. Life was suddenly bright again, and once he’d given the two London tarts the sack and everything was clean and shipshape at the Anchor, with Brenda and Pearl installed back behind the bar, he would sit down and write his darling Rosie a long, long letter.

Sarah had begun to fear that she hadn’t got the post with the WTC. It was almost the end of March, and Mr Cruikshank had told her that the Corps was due to be up and running by April, so their choice of candidate would have to be made within ten days. Now there were only three days left to this deadline, and hope was fading.

Jane must have seen her worried expression, for she came over to the bed and gave her a quick hug. ‘Don’t worry, Sarah,’ she said. ‘They would be very silly not to employ you, and I’m sure you’ll hear soon.’

Sarah kept her doubts to herself as she hugged her back. It was four in the morning and Jane had lost none of her enthusiasm for the dairy. In fact she was relishing the responsibility of doing her job well, and was excited about the pay packet she would receive at the end of this first week. Sarah didn’t want to put a damper on things by voicing her worries.

After Jane had left for the dairy and her beloved Mabel, Sarah lay in bed for a while longer in the hope she might get back to sleep. But her thoughts were whirling and making her restless, and she eventually gave up on the idea and threw off the blankets.
Shivering with the cold, she quickly dressed and slipped on her new shoes.

She had dithered over buying them, for although they were wonderfully comfortable, they’d been quite expensive. And then she’d rummaged through her handbag and found a pound note she must have tucked away in the inside pocket and forgotten about. Without further hesitation, she’d bought the shoes and worn them home, stopping on the way to donate her Glasgow ones to the WVS. Someone with smaller feet would appreciate them.

The room was icy, for they’d run out of sixpences for the meter, and had decided it was wasteful to use their last bit of money on such things while there was a lovely warm kitchen downstairs. She quickly made the beds and tidied away Jane’s clothes which had been strewn about the room, and then hurried into the bathroom. If there was no letter for her today then she would have to go back and see Vera. She simply couldn’t afford to be out of work any longer.

Peggy came into the kitchen an hour later with a red-faced and squalling Daisy in her arms. ‘Thanks for laying the table and starting on the breakfast, Sarah,’ she said above the racket. ‘Pour me a cuppa, dear, while I sort this one out.’

Sarah poured the tea and hurried to fill the washing-up bowl with warm water as Daisy continued to yell. A bath usually soothed her, but she was clearly in a grumpy mood this morning, which was unusual.

As Peggy gulped down the tea and then wrestled
to undress the baby, Sarah had a sharp image of her mother. Where was she now? Had she and the baby survived? Were they safe – and how was her mother coping without their beloved Amah to help? There had been no word from any of them, only disturbing rumours of massacres, torture and imprisonment – not just of Government officials and military men, but of women and children too. As time had gone by, it was getting harder to believe that any of them could have survived.

Peggy had swiftly washed the still squalling Daisy and wrapped her in a towel. ‘Would you put some porridge in her bowl, Sarah? Perhaps if she’s eating she’ll stop making such a noise. The whole house must be awake by now.’

Sarah put some porridge in the little bowl which had Peter Rabbit running round the rim, and added a couple of drops of cold milk to cool it down. ‘Something’s certainly upset her this morning,’ she murmured sympathetically.

Peggy fastened the terry-towelling nappy with a large pin and pulled some waterproof pants over it. ‘She’s teething,’ she said grimly as she wrestled to get the baby’s clothes on, ‘so we can expect this for a while yet.’ She took the bowl and spooned some of the porridge into the wailing mouth. Blessed silence fell as the baby clamped her tiny jaws around the spoon and rubbed her gums against it.

Sarah could see the high colour in the baby’s cheeks and the almost frantic way she was gnawing at that
spoon. ‘Poor little mite,’ she murmured. ‘It must be agony.’

Peggy nodded as she held onto the spoon to stop Daisy from ramming it down her throat. ‘I’ll have to get a teething ring from the chemist. These old spoons are probably too sharp, and I don’t want her to cut herself.’ She looked over at Sarah. ‘What are your plans for the day?’

‘I thought I’d go down to the recruiting office and see Vera. She said there were lots of administration jobs going, and I can’t sit about here doing nothing while Jane’s at work.’

Peggy smiled. ‘There are plenty of jobs here to keep you occupied until you find something that suits you – but I can understand you must be feeling rather at odds with things now Jane is the breadwinner.’

Sarah nodded. ‘It’s not a situation I ever envisaged,’ she admitted with a wry smile. ‘Mother and Pops never expected Jane to do more than perhaps help out at the local kindergarten, or get involved in some sort of charity work. I’ve always been her big sister – her guardian, if you like – and I was expected to work for Pops and be the responsible one should anything happen to my parents. It feels very strange to have the shoe on the other foot.’

Peggy smiled as she spooned more porridge into Daisy. ‘I’m sure it does,’ she murmured, ‘but you must be thrilled at how well she’s getting on.’

‘It has been a revelation,’ Sarah replied. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if we’d given her more of a free rein
back in Malaya, she might have shown these signs of improvement much earlier.’

‘Her injuries must have been severe for your family to cosset her so.’

Sarah nodded and returned to stirring the porridge before carefully easing it off the hot plate and covering it with the saucepan lid. ‘At first we didn’t think she’d survive. She was in a coma for three weeks, and was very poorly for a long time after that. The doctor told us there were bound to be repercussions, and he warned that she would probably be retarded for the rest of her life and would therefore be very vulnerable.’

‘Well, he got that wrong, didn’t he?’ said Peggy acidly. ‘It does make me cross when doctors talk like that – it takes away hope to brand people in such a way. Call someone useless often enough and they’ll start to believe it and act accordingly.’

Sarah smiled down at Peggy in gratitude. ‘Jane has certainly proved him wrong, but she’s still very naïve, and childlike in many ways.’

‘She’s just taking a bit longer to mature, that’s all,’ said Peggy comfortably. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting that now she’s got a job and her own money, she’ll come along in leaps and bounds.’ She caught hold of Sarah’s hand. ‘Getting away from Malaya was probably the making of her, Sarah, and although I know how homesick and worried you must be for the rest of your family, your sister will be all right.’

Sarah nodded. ‘Thanks, Peggy,’ she said rather
unsteadily. ‘It’s good to hear you confirm what I’ve suspected for a while now.’

Peggy smiled back at her. ‘I think I heard the newspapers arriving. Why don’t you fetch them while I finish feeding Daisy? You can read out the headlines while I give her a bottle.’

Sarah fetched the papers from the wire cage that hung beneath the letter box and carried them back into the kitchen. The house was beginning to stir, for she could hear footsteps overhead and the rattle and bang of air in the pipes as someone flushed the lavatory. The kitchen would soon be bustling with everyone chattering over their breakfast and preparing to leave for work. The peaceful interlude with Peggy was almost over, but it had renewed her optimism, and she felt ready to face whatever the day had in store for her.

Peggy flicked through the pages of one of the newspapers as Sarah doled out the porridge and the girls chattered around her. Daisy was at last in a better mood and was lying in her playpen gurgling at Harvey, who was watching her, nose on paws, ears and eyebrows twitching at her every sound.

If only the rest of the world was as peaceful, Peggy thought sadly, as she read about the awful German bombardment of poor little Malta, and the terrible struggle the Russian soldiers were having to survive not only enemy attacks, but dwindling supplies and a bitter winter. There were reports of atrocities in Hong Kong, and the fall of Rangoon and Java. The Japanese
had landed in New Guinea, but their attacks on Darwin had been brought to an end by the arrival in Australia of three United States fighter squadrons. Sir Stafford Cripps was on his way to India to discuss Government policy and – just to put the tin lid on it – there was to be no more white bread after the sixth of April.

Peggy folded the paper, shoved it across the table to Ron and lit a cigarette. ‘I don’t know about you,’ she said, ‘but it would be nice to have some good news for a change.’

He stirred sugar into his tea and looked rather smug. ‘I got a letter from Rosie yesterday in answer to my telegram, and that cheered me up no end.’

Peggy had heard all about Findlay’s spiteful actions and was pleased that Ron and Rosie were in communication again. ‘A letter from Rosie is hardly going to end this blessed war though, is it?’

He chuckled. ‘It makes it easier to bear, Peggy.’

She waved goodbye as Rita, Fran and Suzy left for work. Sarah was now upstairs cleaning the bathroom to fill in time before she went down to see Vera, and Cordelia was busy writing letters at the other end of the table. ‘Yes, I suppose it does,’ she murmured. ‘Jim’s letters remind me of how far away he is, but at least we’re in the same country and I know he’s still alive. Poor Sarah doesn’t have that luxury, and I think she’s finding it very hard to keep up a brave front for her sister.’

Ron looked down at Harvey, who was now stretched out on his back close to the playpen, his tongue lolling.
‘Aye,’ he murmured. ‘We’re lucky, Peg – and we must never forget that.’

Sarah heard the clatter of the letter box and rushed downstairs. There were several letters and a couple of postcards, but the only one that mattered was the buff envelope with WLA stamped in the left-hand corner.

She turned it over and over in her hand, almost afraid to read what was inside, then told herself she was being ridiculous and tore it open. There was a single page and it didn’t take long to read. ‘I’ve got it,’ she called as she ran into the kitchen. ‘I’ve got the job and they want me up at the estate office this afternoon at two.’

‘Congratulations, dear,’ said Cordelia as she reached out her arms to her. ‘We all knew you’d get it.’

‘That’s more than I did,’ she confessed as she stepped over a recumbent Harvey and gave her a warm hug. ‘Oh dear,’ she stuttered. ‘I’m feeling quite emotional about the whole thing. Fancy getting so excited about a silly office job.’

‘You have every right to get emotional,’ said Cordelia firmly. ‘You’ve been through a lot and this is a new beginning.’ She beamed up at her. ‘I think we should all celebrate with a cup of tea and a biscuit.’

Sarah sat down and Harvey took advantage of this and immediately put his head in her lap as if he wanted to congratulate her too. She smiled and stroked his silky ears as Peggy gave her a cup of tea and Ron shot her a wink.

‘It’s cupboard love, Sarah, don’t you be fooled. The old rascal’s after that biscuit in your saucer,’ he drawled.

She laughed and broke off a corner of the biscuit which Harvey greedily snaffled from her palm. ‘The rest is mine,’ she said to him firmly, ‘so you might as well go back to guarding the fire.’