Sealed With a Loving Kiss (21 page)

‘Don't for the love of God wake him up,' he whispered hoarsely.

Rosie tiptoed down the hall and, after a moment of hesitation, carefully opened the bedroom door. The room was empty and just as she'd left it. Tommy had yet to come home. A great wave of relief swept through her and she closed the door.

Returning to the sitting room, she found Ron was sitting rather disconsolately on the couch sandwiched in by both dogs. She ordered them down and snuggled up next to him, at last able to relax. Taking the glass of brandy from him, she raised it in a toast. ‘He's out, so here's to you and me and some time on our own.'

Ron sipped the brandy and gathered her close to kiss her. ‘Happy Christmas, Rosie. I don't suppose …?'

‘You suppose right,' she giggled.

MARY WAS FAST
asleep and dreaming of Jack, so she didn't hear Ivy creeping in at two in the morning, until she tripped over a shoe she'd left on the floor and fell against Mary's bed.

Mary woke with a start. ‘What on earth?'

‘Shh, or the old cow will 'ear.' Ivy giggled and collapsed across Mary's feet. ‘I've had a blindin' Christmas, Mary. Them Yanks certainly know how to party.'

Mary peered at her alarm clock. ‘It's two in the morning,' she hissed. ‘For goodness sake, Ivy, stop messing about and go to your own bed.'

Ivy made a sterling effort to sit up, but failed miserably. ‘I can't,' she giggled. ‘I'm sorta stuck.'

The giggles were catching, and as Mary tried to get her friend to her feet, she was somehow put off balance, and they both fell with a thud to the floor. They lay there in the darkness, trying hard to stifle their laughter, knowing that Doris was only feet away at the other end of the landing.

Mary finally managed to take control. ‘You've got to get out of those clothes and into bed before she wakes up and storms in here,' she said in a hoarse whisper. ‘She's already torn me off a strip, and if she sees you like that, we'll both be out on our ear.'

Ivy rolled onto her stomach and, with a great deal of help from Mary, managed to get to her feet. She swayed a little and then stumbled over to her bed. Flinging back the covers, she kicked off her shoes, wrestled with her overcoat, which she let drop to the floor, and climbed in.

‘You can't go to bed in your clothes,' Mary protested.

‘Why not?' Ivy pulled the covers over her head and within seconds was fast asleep.

Mary gave a sigh which was a mixture of relief and amused exasperation. At least she was in bed, and Doris hadn't caught them. She climbed back into her own bed. There were less than five hours before she had to be up to eat breakfast before she met Jack. She curled beneath the covers and tried to ignore the awful racket that Ivy was making. Unable to settle, she swung back out of bed, went across to Ivy and rather roughly rolled her from her back onto her side in the hope that this would stop her from snoring. Thoroughly out of sorts and now wide awake, she snuggled back under her covers and imagined she was at work sorting through the airgraphs in the hope that this repetitive and tedious occupation might encourage the return of sleep.

It must have done eventually, for Mary opened her eyes as her alarm clock rang out and saw that it was almost seven o'clock. She threw back the covers and pulled on her dressing gown. Ivy's snoring was softer now, and all Mary could see of her was the top of her tousled head.

She pulled back the two rows of curtains and breathed a sigh of relief. Boxing Day had dawned brightly and the sky was a clear blue which was reflected in the calm sea. It was going to be a beautiful day. ‘Ivy, it's time to get up. The sun is shining, the wind has dropped and it's getting late.'

There was no reply and no change in the rhythm of her breathing.

Mary put her hand on the hump of her shoulder and gently rolled her back and forth. ‘Ivy, wake up, for goodness' sake, or you won't have time to eat breakfast before you have to be at work.'

Ivy emerged from the covers bleary-eyed, her make-up streaking her face, her fair hair tangled. ‘I've gotta blindin' headache,' she groaned.

‘That's hardly surprising,' Mary said fondly. She handed her a glass of water and two aspirins. ‘Here, take these, and then sort yourself out while I use the bathroom.'

When she returned to the bedroom she was relieved to see that Ivy had shed her best clothes and was struggling to get into her dungarees. ‘That must have been quite a party yesterday,' she said with a smile in her voice.

Ivy yawned expansively as she fumbled to fasten the shoulder straps. ‘Yeah, it were. The Yanks took over the big hall where we usually go to the pictures. They 'ad a band and tons of food as well as booze, and I was danced off me feet all night.'

She shot Mary a rather weary but cheeky grin. ‘It were ever so good, and Chuck walked me home an' all.' She grimaced. ‘He got a bit fresh and I had a bit of a job to fight 'im off, but all in all, it were a smashing do.' She pulled on a sweater and then tried to get the tangles out of her hair. ‘Wot about you?'

‘My Jack turned up and we went to Peggy's. It was quite a party there, too.' Mary went on to describe how Jack had carried her home – and how Doris had reacted.

Ivy burst out laughing. ‘Blimey, Mary, you ain't 'alf a caution. And here's me thinking you was ever so quiet and ladylike. Her ladyship must've had a blue fit.'

Mary could feel the blush spread across her face as she thought how it must have looked to everyone. ‘It was embarrassing, and she's certainly not best pleased with me at the moment, that's for sure. But if she does tell me to leave, you and I can always go to Peggy. She keeps asking us to, and I know she's got an empty room.'

‘That sounds blinding,' said Ivy as she gave up on her hair and tied a scarf over it. ‘I've about had it with her ladyship and that's a fact.'

She looked back at Mary, her expression suddenly thoughtful. ‘But, funny enough, I quite like it with just us two after living all squashed up in one room with the rest of me family – and this place is a regular palace. Perhaps the old bat ain't that bad if you can steer clear of 'er. And let's face it, Mary, she ain't 'ere most of the time anyways.' She grabbed her washbag and headed for the bathroom.

Mary stared after her in amazement. She'd never for a moment imagined that Ivy would prefer living here with Doris when she could have had the warmth and homeliness of Peggy's Beach View. But then she shrugged and accepted that she too had turned down the chance to live at Peggy's for the very same reason. It was easy and rather pleasant just having Ivy to share with, and together they could deal with Doris and enjoy the comforts of Havelock Road, knowing that Peggy would always be there if they needed her.

She finished dressing and quickly applied some powder and lipstick before brushing out her long hair and leaving it to hang sleekly down her back. The thought of seeing Jack in less than an hour had made her eyes sparkle and her pulse race – but then the knowledge that it could only be until midday when she would have to spend the rest of his leave at the Kodak factory dampened her spirits.

As Ivy came back in and began to throw her discarded clothes onto the bed, Mary came to a decision. ‘Ivy, I'd like you to do me a really big favour.'

Ivy's blue eyes twinkled as she looked back at her. ‘You want me to call you in sick so you can spend the day with your Jack.' She shrugged. ‘Why not? You ain't done it before, and I might need you to return the favour one day.'

Mary gave her a hug. ‘Thanks, Ivy. You're a real pal.'

The dimples appeared. ‘Yeah, and so are you. Sorry about last night. I were a bit worse fer wear, as me mum would've said.'

They hurried downstairs to the kitchen and made toast. There was still a lot of sliced ham in the fridge, and as Doris had yet to put in an appearance, they sandwiched the ham between the toast with tomato relish. As they munched this delicious breakfast and drank copious amounts of tea, they chattered about the parties they'd been to and their plans for that evening. Not that Mary had any real plan, she was just happy to be with Jack wherever they ended up.

It was a quarter to eight by the time they'd washed their plates and put everything neatly away. They left the house, and as they reached the end of Havelock Road, Ivy ran up the hill towards the factory estate and Mary headed for the seafront.

The gulls were mewling as they hovered in the chilly breeze, and squabbled and shrieked from the rooftops and lamp-posts. The sea sparkled as waves broke against the shingle and the white cliffs at the other end of the bay looked majestic between sky and sea. If it wasn't for the coils of ugly barbed wire, the gun emplacements and the stench of oil which lay in thick clumps on the shingle, it would have made a perfect seaside postcard.

Mary hurried along the deserted promenade, her gaze fixed on the skeletal remains of the pier, which had the shattered remnants of a German fighter plane rusting within its embrace. And there was Jack, unmistakeable in his khaki trousers and shirt, green sweater, dark brown leather jerkin and the green beret that was drawn down to his right eyebrow.

Her heart was thudding as they ran towards one another. He swept her into his arms and she forgot about everything as she was lost in his sweet kiss.

Rosie was feeling rather woolly-headed this morning, due to the brandies she'd shared with Ron and the lack of proper sleep. He had left at two in the morning and she'd thought she'd be able to drop off – but with every creak and groan of the ancient building she'd tensed, wondering if it was Tommy.

She'd finally managed an hour or two, but was still so on edge that she was finding it almost impossible to concentrate on anything. She pulled on slacks and a sweater and quickly checked that Tommy hadn't slipped home without her noticing, then she hurried downstairs in her flat shoes and into the bar with Monty dancing about her legs.

Sliding back the bolt on the back door, she stepped out into the scrap of neglected garden, her gaze falling immediately on the slabs. They weren't quite in line with the others and were still standing a bit proud, so she stamped down on them until she was satisfied. There was still a bit too much earth piled on either side, so she quickly kicked some of it over the slabs and the rest into the long, weed-infested grass.

Monty thought this was a good game and began to dig furiously round the slabs, sending dirt, moss and weeds flying.

‘Stop it, Monty,' she snapped as she made a grab for his collar. ‘For goodness' sake, you'll get me shot,' she hissed. She had to drag him back into the bar and close the door firmly on his howls of protest before she went back to repair the damage. Then, seeing a few dead branches which had been blown off the surrounding trees, she gathered them up with an armful of rather soggy leaves and twigs, and dropped them haphazardly over everything.

She added a few more bits she'd found by the hedge and studiously regarded her handiwork. That would have to do, and as she'd never seen Tommy venture out here over the years, she could only pray that old habits died hard and he remained uninterested in anything beyond the back wall of the bar.

‘I see you're doing something about your garden at last.'

Rosie was so tense that she nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked up at the scrawny middle-aged woman who was leaning out of her side window. It was Mrs Flynn, one of the nosiest women in Cliffehaven.

‘I thought I should try and tidy it up a bit,' she stammered.

‘Not before time, if you ask me,' Mrs Flynn replied with a sniff.

‘I don't remember asking you anything,' muttered Rosie as she nudged the twigs and leaves with the toe of her shoe.

‘Well, you don't want to be piling all that dead wood so close to the house,' the woman said bossily. ‘Start a bonfire there, and you'll set everything alight.'

‘I was just clearing it,' said a tight-lipped Rosie.

‘You won't get far doing it like that. You need a rake to get all the leaves and twigs up properly – and it wouldn't hurt to cut that grass either. My Derek gets the most terrible hay fever every spring because of all the seeds and pollen you've got growing in there.'

Derek was her overweight, idle husband who was always professing to be ill with something, and Rosie couldn't have cared less about him. She'd certainly had enough of this unwarranted interference. ‘Yes, you're right, Mrs Flynn. I'll go and find a rake now.' With that, she turned away, opened the back door and slammed it hard behind her. ‘Nosy old crow,' she muttered as she shot the bolt home.

She pushed past a dancing Monty, who now had his leash dangling from his mouth in anticipation of a walk, and quickly washed her hands in the sink beneath the bar, then went to fetch her coat and scarf. She still felt as if her head was full of cotton wool, and her mood was definitely not sunny after that little run-in – but hopefully that would improve after some fresh air and exercise.

The knowledge that she would have to be back, dressed and ready to open the bar at eleven, didn't excite her. If she ever needed a proper day off, this was it. The bar would no doubt become crowded with people escaping their families after being closeted with them all the previous day, or with others who were drinking the ‘hair of the dog' after having had too much the night before. Then there were the servicemen and women and factory workers who hadn't had Christmas day off and those who were simply bored with their own company.

She gave a deep sigh as she fastened the lead to Monty's collar. ‘Come on, little man,' she said fondly. ‘Let's see if some fresh air and exercise will blow the nasty old cobwebs away.'

It was bright and sunny, the breeze quite crisp, and as she went up the hill and took the short cut through the twitten that ran between the terraced houses, she looked to see if Peggy or Ron were about. But there was no sign of anyone and all she could hear was Daisy yelling at the top of her lungs. Poor Peggy. There was little chance of a lie-in with that racket going on.