Sealed With a Loving Kiss (9 page)

Mary smiled as she turned back to the beginning of the piece. Barbara was just the same, and liked nothing better than a good cry during a soppy film. ‘Shall we run through it a couple of times more? Only I'm still a bit unsure in places, and you played it so beautifully I don't want to let the side down.'

They played it through until they were both satisfied, and then Mary went on to practise the final triumphal march that she'd play as the bride and groom left the church.

‘There, I think that's enough for tonight,' she said as the last note drifted away. She gathered up the sheets of music and made sure they were in the correct order before placing them on the rest. ‘You know, Fran, you'd be a real asset in our concert orchestra. Why don't you come along to one of the rehearsals?'

‘It's not really something I've ever considered.' Mary blew out the candles and they hurried through the echoing darkness into the well-lit vestry. ‘I'm happy enough to just play in the pub and leave that sort of thing to someone like you.'

‘But you're very talented, Fran. Much better than the violinist Doris has managed to find.'

‘Ach, well, 'tis better I stick to what I know,' she replied with a shrug. ‘'Tis not for me, Mary.'

Mary had to accept her refusal, but it was a terrible shame, for Fran would have lit up the concert and no mistake. ‘The vicar said I could make tea or coffee,' she said as she pulled her gloves back on. ‘And I could certainly do with something to warm me up. How about you?'

‘I'd love a cup of coffee if there's any milk,' said Fran as she carefully cleaned the gleaming violin and tucked it back in its case.

Mary found some dried milk in the cupboard along with a bottle of Camp coffee. She spooned in a small amount of the treacle-like liquid into the cups and added the milk once the kettle had boiled. There was no sugar, but then they hadn't expected to find any in these days of tight rationing.

‘I wonder what sort of reaction you'll get from Doris when she sees you playing her violin,' she murmured as they perched on a table and wrapped their hands around the warm cups. ‘I still haven't told her it was you I'd lent it to, you know.'

Fran shrugged. ‘I hope she sees that I'm taking good care of it and can actually play it properly,' she said with a hint of asperity. ‘I'd like to think she might change her opinion of me – but I doubt it. She once told me that I was a worthless Irish flibbertigibbet with half a brain and few morals.'

‘That's a terrible thing to say to anyone,' protested a horrified Mary. ‘It just goes to prove that she's a terrible judge of character as well as an awful snob. Frankly, if I was you, I wouldn't care less what she thought.'

‘I wish I didn't, but it's not nice knowing someone has taken an unjust and undeserved dislike to you, is it?'

Mary heard the wistfulness underlying her words and had a painful memory of Emmaline's spiteful face and harsh accusations. ‘No, it isn't,' she replied softly. ‘But sometimes, no matter how hard you try to get them to approve of you, it makes no difference, and you have to accept it's a lost cause.'

Fran looked at her keenly. ‘That sounds as if it came from the heart.'

‘It did rather.' Mary blew on the coffee. ‘But it doesn't hurt quite so much now I know the reason behind it.' She saw Fran's questioning glance and smiled. ‘It would take all night to explain, and there's little point in wasting time on things I can't change.'

She sipped her coffee and turned to another topic before the memories of Emmaline's coldness became too hard to bear. ‘I know you said you learned to play the violin as a young girl, but where on earth did you learn the classics?'

‘I had a wonderful music teacher at St Catherine's School. She was a nun, and I suspect that if she hadn't had the calling into the Church she'd have been a successful concert soloist. Her music made me cry it was so beautiful, and when she heard me play she insisted that I learned more than just the Irish tunes.' Her eyes went misty as she fell silent.

‘She wanted me to go to music college and make a career out of it,' she continued. ‘But we had no money for such things, even though I did win a part scholarship. Dear Sister Anne even tried to persuade the Reverend Mother to fund me, but of course she couldn't. There were lots of wee girls and boys in that school with talent, and if she did it for me, she'd have been inundated with requests from all the other parents.'

Mary thought it was desperately sad that this very talented girl had been denied a promising career in music because her parents weren't rich enough to pay for her tuition. Life could be terribly unfair. ‘So, what made you take up nursing?'

Fran grinned. ‘Well, me best friend took it up and I liked the look of it, so we both came to England, found part-time jobs to pay our way and went to nursing school. To be sure, I was terrible homesick and it was a tough few years. There was never enough money for anything, and probationary nurses are given the longest shifts and the toughest, dirtiest jobs, so we were always exhausted. But I discovered it was something I was good at and enjoyed, so I stuck with it.'

She sipped her coffee, her face animated. ‘Then me and June moved into Beach View once we'd qualified, and things got better. Suzy arrived shortly after war was declared, I got promoted to Theatre Staff Nurse, and I've never looked back.'

‘I haven't met June, and Peggy hasn't mentioned her. Is she still at Beach View?'

Fran pulled a face. ‘Me mam always warned me she was a flighty piece, and she was right – just as all mams are,' she added ruefully. ‘Peggy threw her out when she caught her and some corporal rolling about half-naked in her bed.'

Mary almost choked on her coffee. ‘In Peggy's bed?' At Fran's nod, she couldn't help but giggle. ‘Goodness. That must have caused a ruckus.'

‘I believe it did, but June never went into details and left to go back to Ireland shortly after that.' She drained the last of her coffee and rinsed the cup under the tap. ‘Me mam said she was only home for a couple of months before she disappeared again, and there was a rumour that she was sent to the convent for unmarried mothers. The poor wee girl didn't deserve to be punished like that. Those nuns are evil by all accounts.'

Mary had heard about the convents that took in such girls, for her mother had constantly told her that was where she'd end up if she didn't mend her sinful ways. ‘Are you still in touch with her?' she asked as she washed out her own cup.

‘I wrote a couple of times, but never got a reply. Mam said she'd gone to live further west and her parents have all but disowned her.'

‘That's so sad,' murmured Mary. ‘The poor girl needs her parents most at a time like that. Will they ever forgive her, do you think?'

Fran followed Mary outside and waited as she closed the door. ‘I hope so, but the Irish have long memories when it comes to sins – and June brought terrible disgrace to her family, so she did.' She eyed the door. ‘Are ye not going to lock that?'

Mary shook her head. ‘The vicar will come across to do it later.'

They walked into the street and Mary grinned as she squeezed her friend's hand. ‘Suzy is going to be thrilled with your surprise, Fran. I'll see you back here tomorrow.'

‘I'll be here, don't you worry.' Fran grinned back at her, then headed for Beach View with a backward wave.

Mary turned in the opposite direction and walked quickly through the narrow side streets until she came to the busy High Street where couples were strolling and groups of servicemen clustered on corners. She hoped the house in Havelock Road was quieter and that Doris and the two men had already left for Beach View. With Ivy out for the evening, it would be lovely to have a soak in the bath and read through her letters again.

Peggy had been feeling quite sick with anxiety as she'd waited for the arrival of Suzy's parents, and this had not been helped by Doris, who'd poked and pried and made snide comments about the mismatched glasses and cheap cutlery as she'd run a speculative finger along windowsills and furniture looking for dust. In the end, Peggy had told her in no uncertain terms to either keep her mouth shut or leave. Doris had flounced off in high dudgeon to sit in the dining room and smoke furiously on a cigarette.

Suzy came into the kitchen shortly after, looking lovely in a plain navy dress and creamy cardigan, her blonde hair freshly set and gleaming in the dim electric light, her eyes shining in her radiant face. ‘Please don't worry, Auntie Peg,' she said, putting her arm round her shoulders. ‘Mummy and Daddy are perfectly ordinary people, and I just know you'll get along with them.'

‘But they're used to much better things,' fretted Peggy as she looked with fresh eyes at her shabby kitchen. ‘Perhaps it would have been better if they'd gone to Doris's after all.'

‘Don't be silly. They'd hate it there, and will feel right at home with you and the others.' She softly kissed Peggy's cheek. ‘I've told them so much about you and Ron and Cordelia over the years that Mummy says she feels as if she already knows you. So please stop worrying and try to relax.'

Peggy drew her into a close embrace. ‘I'm going to miss you so much, Suzy,' she murmured. ‘You've become like a daughter to me, and this house won't feel the same without you.'

Suzy's eyes were suspiciously bright as they broke the embrace and stood hand in hand. ‘And I'm going to miss you all too,' she admitted. ‘It's going to feel very strange to not wake up here each morning to the sound of Jane going downstairs, or Rita crashing about in her room – and not to have you to talk to when things are getting on top of me.' She sniffed back her tears. ‘You've been a mother to me, Aunt Peg, and I really can't express how much that has meant to me over the past few years.'

Peggy's soft heart melted at this sweet sentiment and she had to take a moment to compose herself before she could speak again. ‘Promise you'll visit us often?'

‘Of course I will. I shall still be working at the hospital, so I'll never be that far away from you all. This is my home and you've been my family for so long that I'm not going to just walk away and forget about you.'

Peggy nodded, unable to speak for the lump in her throat.

Suzy squeezed her fingers. ‘Just promise me you won't get too tense about things, Auntie Peg. Everything is organised to the last folded napkin, and Anthony and I want you to be at ease and enjoy tonight – and our wedding.'

Peggy tried her best to shrug off her misgivings, but as soon as Suzy went back upstairs, she started to dust and polish again. Once there was nothing else to tidy away or scrub clean she checked on Daisy, who'd been put to bed early, and then began to restlessly pace the hall floor, waiting to hear the sound of a car pulling up, for Suzy's parents were driving down from their London flat.

Fran had forced Ron into a chair and trimmed his wayward hair and eyebrows – much to his disgust – and he was decently dressed and shaved for once. Harvey had had a bath and a liberal dusting of flea powder, and the pair of them had been banished to the kitchen, where Edward and Anthony were in charge of the drinks.

Rita was on duty, but the rest of the girls were upstairs giggling and chattering, and Cordelia was regally ensconced with her knitting in one of the armchairs in the dining room. She had deliberately switched off her hearing aid, for she didn't like Doris and had made it absolutely clear she had no wish to hear anything she had to say.

The soft purr of an expensive engine alerted Peggy to the Jameses' arrival and her heart began to thud as she switched off the hall light and opened the front door. The Rolls-Royce gleamed in the pale moonlight as it pulled to a halt, and Peggy swallowed the lump of panic in her throat and plastered on a welcoming smile as the elegant and rather sleek couple climbed out.

‘Mummy, Daddy,' cried Suzy as she raced past Peggy and ran down the steps to greet them. ‘Oh, it's so lovely to see you both.' She kissed and hugged them both rapturously and then turned to introduce Peggy.

Mrs James was all smiles as she climbed the steps. ‘My dear Peggy, what a delight to meet you at last – and on such a happy occasion too.'

The fair-haired woman looked far too young to be Suzy's mother and as Peggy shook her pale, soft hand, she noted the delicious fur coat and expensive handbag and shoes. ‘It's lovely to meet you too,' she stammered. ‘I do hope you'll be comfortable here, Mrs James, only—'

‘Please, call me Evelyn, Peggy. After all, you've mothered my daughter for years, and I feel that, although we haven't met until today, we are already friends.'

Peggy caught Suzy's eye and saw the ‘I told you so' expression on her face and began to feel a little easier, her smile becoming a fraction less stiff at this lovely greeting.

Evelyn hooked her hand into Suzy's arm and glanced across at her husband, who was busy delving into the boot of the Rolls with Ted and Anthony. ‘Julian and I can't thank you enough for looking after our little girl so well, and actually we're rather glad we're not staying in some dreary hotel. We've heard so much about the warmth and lovely atmosphere of your home from Suzy that we're both looking forward to experiencing it for ourselves.'

Peggy led the way up the steps and into the hall, suddenly seeing how shabby it looked and how worn the stair carpet had become. But Evelyn didn't seem to notice as she shrugged off the beautiful fur and hung it over the newel post while Suzy introduced the girls, Cordelia, and Doris – who'd emerged from the dining room and just about managed not to curtsy.

‘Hello, Peggy,' said Julian as he dumped a huge hamper on the floor and took her hand. ‘Thank you so much for everything you've done for our girl, and for the enormous effort and upheaval this wedding must have caused you and your family.'