Sealed With a Loving Kiss (27 page)

The concert ended with the rousing ‘Rule, Britannia', and this was followed after an absolute barrage of requests for an encore by ‘Land of Hope and Glory', which brought everyone to their feet to sing along. The effort the orchestra had put into the show was clear in their shining faces as they took their bows and mopped their foreheads.

Peggy was on her feet and applauding as Mary, Fran and Robert came to the front of the stage and, holding hands, took their bows.

Doris bustled onto the stage with the Mayor and Lady C., who gave each girl a small bouquet of flowers and Robert a rosebud buttonhole. Then it was time to announce the winners of the raffle, and Peggy squeaked in delight as she discovered she had a winning ticket. Her disappointment was huge when she discovered she'd just missed out on the joint of pork, and had won a washing-up mop, a tea towel and a very small bar of Sunlight soap.

They left their seats and shuffled towards the main doors, along with the rest of the audience. It was already dark, and Peggy was looking forward to getting home to take her corset off and have a nice cup of tea. But first she wanted to congratulate the girls and Robert on a wonderful concert.

As they went down the steps towards Bertram's car she saw them emerge from the stage door. ‘You get Cordelia settled,' she said to him. ‘I won't be a minute.'

She hurried over and grasped the girls' hands. ‘That was truly wonderful,' she breathed. ‘And as for you, Robert Goodyear, you're a dark horse, aren't you? I never had an inkling that you could play the clarinet, let alone so wonderfully well.'

He blushed to the roots of his hair. ‘I'm not that good,' he protested with soft modesty.

‘Oh yes, you are. It made me get goose-bumps.' She looked at the three of them. ‘Now, are you coming back to me for tea? Or are you off to celebrate?'

‘I'm on night shift, Peggy,' said Mary, ‘so I can't, I'm afraid. Perhaps another day?'

‘Bless you, dear, you're always welcome, but it seems a pity you have to work after such a splendid afternoon.'

‘Robert and I are going out for our supper tonight,' said Fran, ‘so I'll not be back until late.'

Peggy beamed with pleasure. ‘I'm glad to hear it. See you later.' She turned and headed back to the car. Things were going swimmingly between the two of them, and she couldn't help but hope that perhaps in a few months there might be another engagement, or at least some sort of declaration. She knew she was an old romantic at heart, but she did so love it when things worked out well.

PEGGY ARRIVED BACK
at Beach View to discover that the house next door had already been requisitioned by the billeting people, for now Mrs Black had left town, there were several women busy moving their few belongings in. Having had a short chat to welcome them to Beach View Close, she made them all a pot of tea and left them to it. Mrs Black had always been a nice quiet neighbour, but she was very elderly, and Peggy was rather looking forward to having women of her own age living next door.

She returned to her own kitchen to find that the girls were still at work, Bertram had already left for his home on the other side of town, and Cordelia was trying, without much success, to make another pot of tea. There was no sign of Ron, Harvey or Daisy, and she could only hope that they were with Rosie at the pub, and not trekking across the hills in search of illicit game.

‘Let me do that, Cordelia,' she said as she quickly took charge of the heavy kettle. ‘I don't want you scalding yourself.'

‘Oh dear, I feel so useless,' she replied sadly as she regarded her gnarled hands. ‘But this cold is making my arthritis very painful.'

Peggy could see how swollen her knuckles had become after sitting in that cold, draughty hall, and felt a pang of deep sympathy. ‘While the tea's brewing, we'll get changed out of our finery and bundle up in front of the fire. And I think it might be an idea if you put your gloves back on,' she added as they headed for the stairs. ‘They'll keep your hands much warmer.'

Having changed into less formal clothes and wrapped themselves in extra sweaters and cardigans, and with thick socks and slippers to keep their feet warm, Peggy settled Cordelia by the meagre fire and tried to stoke some life into it.

But the anthracite and coal dust just smoked and looked sullen, and the few bits of wood she'd placed on top took an age to catch. It was a good thing they'd put the stew in the oven this morning, otherwise it would never have got cooked in time for tea.

She checked the stew, poured Cordelia a cup of tea and went out into the freezing gloom to retrieve her washing, which was now as stiff as a board. Leaving it to drip from the wooden airer that was strung by pulleys from the scullery ceiling, Peggy shivered and shut the back door. It was getting colder by the minute, and she wouldn't be at all surprised if they didn't have snow by morning.

‘I hope Ron wraps Daisy up warmly when he brings her home,' she said fretfully as she reached for the latest airgraphs which she hadn't had time to read. ‘It's bitter out there.'

‘It's not much warmer in here,' muttered Cordelia.

Peggy set the letters aside. ‘I'll make you a hot water bottle.'

She had just filled the stone bottle when she heard the warning pips. She stilled, waiting for the sirens, praying they wouldn't sound out on this bitter night. But her prayers weren't answered, and as the sirens began to whine, she quickly wrapped the stone bottle in a cloth and tucked it into the emergency box she always kept for when they had to go into the shelter. As the sirens shrieked to full-pitch she ran into the hall to fetch their coats and outdoor shoes.

‘Can't we just sit it out in here?' pleaded Cordelia. ‘We'll freeze to death in that shelter.'

‘I'm not risking that again,' Peggy replied firmly. ‘Remember what happened last time we got caught indoors? You ended up with a broken arm and bruised ribs and I almost bled to death.' The sirens were going full-blast all over the town now and she wrestled to get an overcoat over all Cordelia's cardigans and button it up. Adding a scarf and a woollen hat that looked like a tea-cosy, Cordelia was finally bundled up like an Eskimo.

Dragging on her own overcoat, Peggy helped Cordelia down the cellar steps and then out into the garden. Cordelia leaned heavily on Peggy's arm as they carefully negotiated the path, which was as slippery and lethal as an ice-rink. The air was like a knife cutting through to their lungs; the stars were coldly bright against the black sky and the moon was glowing. It was a perfect night for an enemy raid.

The Anderson shelter stank of damp and mould, the floor littered with leaves that had blown in from the nearby trees, and every corner was strung with thick spiders' webs. It was as cold as a morgue. Peggy quickly settled Cordelia into her deckchair, which was jammed into a corner, and then added pillows to ensure she didn't slip out of it if she fell asleep – which she usually did within minutes of taking out her hearing aid.

The sirens were louder and more demanding now and Peggy knew she didn't have much time before some officious warden came along and shouted at her to turn off her kitchen light. ‘I'll be back in a minute,' she said once she'd lit the tilly lamp.

Dashing back to the house, she kicked off her slippers and rammed her feet into her outdoor shoes. She grabbed her scarf, gloves and hat and shoved the airgraphs into her pocket. With the door closed on the range fire, she turned off the light and reached for the heavy box.

She fumbled her way down the stairs, slammed the back door behind her and skidded and slipped down the treacherous path, guided by the bright moon and the phosphorescent beams of the searchlights that swayed back and forth across the dark sky. She was shivering by the time she'd closed the shelter door and her nose and fingers were tingling with the biting cold.

‘I do hope it's a short raid,' whimpered Cordelia. ‘I don't think I can survive a whole night of this terrible damp cold.'

Peggy quickly placed a blanket over her knees and another round her shoulders before tucking the hot water bottle under her hands. ‘I'll light the kerosene stove and that will chase away the chill,' she soothed. But as she lit the stove and turned it so Cordelia could get full benefit of it, she was worried. Cordelia rarely complained, and this bitter cold was dangerous for elderly constitutions already weakened through arthritis.

Cordelia snuggled into the blankets and pillows as the first squadron of Spitfires, Hurricanes and Typhoons took off from Cliffe aerodrome and screamed overhead. But the thunder of the enemy bombers was ominously close, and the metal walls of the shelter began to vibrate from the noise.

Peggy kept a wary eye on Cordelia as she pulled on her gloves and hat and then wound the scarf round her neck. She could already feel the damp chilling her bones and see the hazy clouds of her breath, and could only thank goodness that Daisy would be in Rosie's dry and much warmer cellar during the raid. Then she suddenly remembered that Sarah had to walk across the hills from the Cliffe estate to get home, and for the first time, prayed that Captain Hammond was at hand to drive her to safety. She was still suspicious about that friendship, but at least he had his uses, and he was charming – she couldn't deny that.

Having ensured they were both wrapped up against the cold, Peggy lit the small primus stove, poured fresh water from the thermos into the tin kettle and put it on to boil. There was a jar of Bovril in the emergency box, and a nice hot beefy drink would go some way to making their situation more comfortable.

Once Cordelia had her gloved hands wrapped round her tin mug, Peggy sat down on the bench and listened to the thud of the Bofors guns, the rattle of the flak and the roar of planes. It was going to be a noisy night.

As the corrugated iron walls streamed with condensation and the noise overhead grew steadily worse, Cordelia carefully sipped her Bovril while Peggy retrieved Jim's airgraphs from her skirt pocket. Under normal circumstances, she would have read out the interesting bits to Cordelia, but with the racket going on overhead, it would have been impossible, so she settled down to try and read them in the faint, flickering light of the tilly lamp.

The convoy Jim was on had crossed the equator, and they'd marked this with a ceremony which involved an officer dressed as Neptune, and several marines done up as mermaids, which caused a great deal of hilarity. The captain presented Neptune with a drink of beer, so he would bless the ship and give it a safe passage. This was followed by a sort of playful mutiny in which officers were captured, smothered in tar and custard, and then thrown overboard. Once everyone had had their ducking there was dinner of goose and marrow, and they got paid their wages. It was the most fun Jim had had since they'd set out on this voyage.

In the following letter, Jim wrote how the weather was changeable, hot one minute, and surprisingly cold the next. One of the convoy ships broke down and they'd left her with a destroyer as an escort while they steamed round waiting for her to be mended, which had taken all day. Time passed with quizzes, boxing matches, concerts and deck sports, and because the weather had turned very cold, they'd changed back into battledress, which felt very odd after so long in the lightweight tropical kit. The sighting of whales, seals and a large flock of albatross had lightened his spirits, but he was missing her terribly and beginning to hate the restrictions of life on board. They were due to disembark within the next few days, and from there they would be sent to their various postings. He loved her more than ever, sent kisses to everyone and signed it, as usual, SWALK.

Peggy had tears in her eyes as she carefully put the airgraphs back in their brown envelopes. She missed him too, every single moment of the day and night. She looked up as the noise of the bombers and fighters increased and shook her fist. ‘Damn you, Hitler,' she hissed. ‘Damn you to hell and back.'

The Anchor had only been open for five minutes when the sirens started. The bitter weather had kept people at home, and Rosie's barmaids had the night off, so she'd bolted the front door and gone down into the cellar with Ron and Daisy, the dogs running eagerly in front of them. Harvey still hated the sound of the sirens, and he sat in a corner howling piteously until they were replaced by the shriek of fighters and the drone of bombers, and then he slumped down beside an unfazed Monty to happily doze.

Rosie sat close to Ron on the sagging couch with Daisy in her lap. Harvey and Monty had commandeered the other couch and were stretched out like emperors, contentedly snoring as the dogfights went on overhead. ‘Daisy's such a good baby,' she said as she cuddled her. ‘She doesn't seem to mind the noise at all.'

‘Aye, well, she's been born to the sound of it, so she has,' said Ron proudly. ‘She's a bonny wee girl, and has her mother's spirit.'

Rosie held the tiny girl close, revelling in the scent and feel of her against her heart. If only things had been different – if only … But they were the saddest of all wishful words, for there was no changing the past and she'd had many years to learn to live with the consequences.

‘Are you all right, acushla?'

Rosie barely heard Ron as she looked down at the baby in her arms and marvelled at the long eyelashes that were fluttering in sleep against the sweet, soft cheeks, and the tiny fingers that were laced beneath her chin. How darling she was, how very precious. Oh, how deep were her regrets and how much she envied Peggy and all other mothers, for she had so much love to give and had been denied the chance to ever know what it was like to hold and care for her own child.

‘Rosie?'

She hastily pulled her thoughts together. ‘I'm just tired,' she replied. ‘The long days and busy nights have started catching up on me, that's all.'

He put his arm round her and gently drew her into his side so her head could rest on his sturdy shoulder as she cradled the sleeping Daisy. ‘You should get that brother of yours to do more,' he rumbled. ‘Where was he all day – and why isn't he here now?'