All Fall Down (42 page)

‘What's that?' He was damned if he could see a way out. He'd been racking his brains for days.

‘
You'll
have to go to her.'

‘What, and live out there?' His jaw dropped.

‘No need to look like that. It can't be all bad.' Annie railed to see the advantages, she had to admit. ‘Still, some people live in the country all their lives, don't they? It wouldn't be my cup of tea, mind you . . .' Finally she came up with a convincing argument.
‘But if Duke had asked me to go and live in Woolbury Weston, I'd have gone with him like a shot!'

Annie and Hettie still had Meggie staying with them at the Duke. Ever since her return the previous Saturday she'd been suffering from some kind of shock. Sadie had been unable to get much out of her; only that Meggie had been to the station to meet Ronnie, and, when he failed to show up, had managed to get herself lost. She'd ended up in a state in the back of a police car. She said she didn't want to go home, she refused to speak or to eat.

When they called the doctor, he judged her to have had a complete breakdown. ‘Similar in a way to shell shock. You can't pin it down to one particular event, perhaps. And, of course, you can't see any physical wound. That makes it more difficult for us to understand.'

‘You're saying it's her nerves?' Sadie listened with growing dread. Meggie was staying in Ernie's old room, white as the sheets she was laid on. ‘But she'll come round, won't she?'

The doctor said he'd seen many such conditions. The more the politicians advocated taking it on the chin and muddling through, the more the East End women patiently took on their shoulders; helping the war effort, coping with food shortages, worrying about their men on the front line, not to mention enduring the Blitz. Some were bound to crack under the strain. ‘Give her time,' he advised. ‘And plenty of peace and quiet.'

His reply had left them unnerved. Hettie redoubled her prayers, while Annie took charge of the invalid. Sadie would only fret all the more if she had Meggie at home, and Sadie herself was very near the end of her tether.

‘I should've stepped in sooner,' she told Walter. ‘If I'd stood up for Meggie and Ronnie, instead of letting Gertie Elliot rule the roost, Meggie would never have gone off the rails like this. Not if I'd been on her side.'

‘We don't know that.' Walter felt his family begin to crumble and fall apart. Sadie's guilt didn't help, neither did the knowledge that Bertie and Geoff seemed to be getting on fine without them in Coniston. Grace sent weekly cards, and the occasional phone
call from the boys revealed that they were having a whale of a time.

‘I know!' Sadie pressed her lips tightly together. ‘Poor Meggie's been battling all alone to find Richie and to hang onto her sweetheart. I ain't given her the help a mother should.' She sat feeling bleak and useless, going over her mistakes.

He tried to comfort her. ‘She's getting help now. We're rallying round.'

Sadie nodded and looked up through her tears.

‘Let Hettie and Annie look after her,' he said gently. ‘And I'll look after you.' His arms were strong enough. He wouldn't let her down.

It was Hettie's habit to hum the old Sally Army tunes as she went about the sick room. They kept her spirits up and let Meggie know she was. there. She had some expertise as a nurse, gained during her time at the hostel, and her stoical outlook meant that she didn't fuss over details or kill her patient with kindness. On top of this, her faith was strong that Meggie would pull through.

‘
Forward into ba-attle, See those banners go . . . Onward Christian so-o-o-oldiers, Marching as to-o war
 . . .' she sang as she brought a jug of fresh water for the bedside.

Meggie turned her head; a first weak response.

‘Here, let me do your pillows.' Hettie put the tray down and offered to make her more comfortable, glad when Meggie co-operated. ‘That's it.' She lowered her gently, then stroked her forehead. ‘Poor Meggie, what can we do to make it better?' She saw tears roll sideways. ‘Tell me, darling.'

Meggie looked up, too weak to reply. Her lips were dry, her limbs heavy. ‘Aunt Ett?'

‘I'm still here.'

‘I found my pa.' Four simple words.

‘Did you, darling?'

‘He needs help. Can we take care of him?'

‘We can.' Nothing could be easier. Hettie clasped Meggie's hand. For the time being this was enough. She closed her eyes. Eventually
she slept. Later she explained the circumstances and Hettie made moves for George to trace Richie Palmer through the Hungerford Club.

‘George is the best man for the job,' she told Annie. ‘He ain't tangled up in it the way Walter and Rob are. He can keep a cool head.'

Annie agreed. ‘What if Richie Palmer don't want to be looked after?' If he was that far gone, he might not accept their help. Memories of her first husband Wiggin in a similar plight came flooding back. He had carried on drinking and causing trouble right to the bitter end.

Hettie took this into account. ‘Let's try and get a roof over his head,' she decided. ‘It's the least we can do.' She looked steadily at her stepmother. ‘Richie is Meggie's pa, remember.'

Annie sighed. ‘Let George do it,' she agreed. ‘But keep Sadie out of it. She won't be able to stand it if Richie has hit rock-bottom. Believe me, I know.'

Hettie went ahead and kept Meggie informed. ‘There's a hostel for the homeless off Bear Lane. Charlie Ogden knows about it. He reckons if we can get Richie back across the water he can book him in there, as long as George promises to keep an eye on him. Charlie says he can pull a few strings.'

Meggie sat up in bed. ‘I don't want to visit him. Not yet.'

Hettie rolled her eyes. ‘You're not going nowhere, young lady. Not until we build you up a bit.' Today had been Meggie's first attempt to take a little food. She was still weak as a kitten.

‘Aunt Ett . . .'

‘What now?' she teased.

‘Can you find me a pen and paper?'

Hettie quickly complied. ‘And here's an envelope and a stamp. Who are you writing to; Ronnie?'

Colour came into Meggie's cheeks as she ducked her head and nodded.

‘She's writing him a letter,' Hettie reported to Sadie with a smile. ‘That's a good sign, ain't it?'

Dear Ronnie,

I know how this letter will hurt you, and before you read it I want you to remember the good times we had. I hope that you won't forget them.

I came to meet you off the train last week to tell you that we couldn't go on. Like I said in my other letter, I thought better of us running away together, and this time I want you to believe me. Ronnie, I can't go through with it. I won't marry you.

Meggie broke off time and time again. The words lay flat on the page. What she felt was nowhere on view as the pen squeaked across the white paper. Still, she must make him believe what she wrote.

You were my first sweetheart. You were very good to me. (She crossed out this last sentence.) But you're not the husband for me. I know I'm too young to make a go of it with you, and that our lives are meant to follow different paths.

Don't think of rushing home again to try and change my mind. It won't do any good. Every word here is true. So this is goodbye, Ronnie. I want you to forget me and live a happy life. (‘Without me,' she wrote, then crossed it out.) One day I hope you'll forgive me for letting you down. I'm sorry. I truly am.

Love, Meggie.

Chapter Twenty-Six

‘Woolly Weston. Woody Westbury; I don't bleeding care!' Tommy gritted his teeth and told Edie his decision to chuck everything and come to Somerset to join her.

It's Westbury Wootton,' she insisted. ‘And you know it!' Martyrdom didn't sit easily on Tommy's shoulders. She pictured him at the other end of the phone line, hand over one ear to cut out the yells of the market traders, the roar of traffic trundling by. ‘What are you saying, that you'll come out here and set up home with me?'

‘If that's what it takes.' He didn't want to sound as if he was falling over himself with enthusiasm. He thought she should realize the sacrifice he was prepared to make.

‘When?'

It seemed he meant it. Edie stood in the hall of the ancient manor house, taking the call in a public phone booth that had been installed for the girls' use. From here she could see into the grounds; the formal garden outside the main door, the sweep of the main driveway.

‘Tomorrow. Whenever you want.' He began to feel that he should have turned up on the doorstep again. As it was, giving her advance warning would give them both time to get cold feet. What if she turned him down? The trouble with Edie was that she was deep. She could always find reasons for denying herself what she most wanted. ‘Are you still there?'

‘Yes. You took me aback. I was just in the middle of eating my tea.'

Thrilling. She was shilly-shallying, finding ways of putting him
off. ‘What do you think, Edie? Can we make a go of it?' He put himself on the line for her once more.

‘Come down and talk about it,' she said softly. ‘I need to see you.'

So Tommy took the morning train.

‘Make or break this time,' he told Rob, who dropped him at the station. ‘I need a yes or a no.' His self-respect wouldn't take much more of this hanging around. ‘What the bleeding hell does she expect? I've said I'll drop everything and move out there, haven't I?'

‘Blimey.' Tommy in turnipland. Rob flicked cigarette ash onto the pavement. ‘And the best of British, mate.' You wouldn't catch him moving more than a couple of miles from Duke Street, not at his time of life.

The assignation was fixed for one o'clock at the pub in Westbury. Tommy got there in good time after another smooth lift from Bristol, his belligerence of earlier that morning having evaporated on the train journey. It had been replaced by an edgy peevishness. ‘Scotch,' he ordered at the bar. He downed it in one and ordered another.

Edie had managed to wangle some time off by working overtime the night before. Tommy's offer had made her smile at first, until she realized he was serious. It had set her thinking; the two of them living together in one of these sleepy villages, perhaps setting up in a newsagents and sub-post-office, learning the ropes. She pictured them in five years time, settled and cosy. Now, the moment she walked into the pub and saw Tommy's lean figure at the bar, hat tipped back, tie and top shirt button loosened, foot up on the brass rail, the picture dissolved.

She slid up to him and put an arm around his waist, letting him sense her arrival before she said anything. She reached across for a brief kiss. When Tommy saw her smiling at him, his sense of martyrdom eased. He would do anything for this woman. He'd live on Mars, for God's sake.

‘You look like . . . a million dollars!'

She was glad she'd changed out of uniform into a silky cream shirt and slacks. ‘Likewise.' Accepting a drink, she noticed that he'd shaved and made himself respectable after his long journey. They went to sit in a corner, out of the landlord's gaze.

‘This is it, this is the plan.' He got down to brass tacks. ‘I hand over things in Southwark to Jimmie. He keeps it ticking over while we set up here. I reckon we can easily rent a place. You'll have to leave the Land Army, though. They don't have no married quarters, do they?'

‘Tommy.' She put a hand over his. It was nervous energy that made him hurry. He looked worn to a shadow underneath the bravado.

He stopped, as if a switch had been flicked. Her one word cut him dead.

‘Look at me, Tommy.' She waited for him to respond, moved beyond words at the sacrifice he was prepared to make. When their eyes met, she continued. ‘I don't want you to do all that for me. It wouldn't work out.' Now she had to rush, to wipe out all that hurt. ‘I know I said I couldn't live in Duke Street, and I can't. I still think that. But it doesn't have to be so drastic, see. Think about it, we'd stick out like sore thumbs if we tried to make a go of it round here. You in your spivvy Humphrey Bogart suits, me pretending that I'd got nothing better to do with my time than make jam and knit tea-cosies.'

For a while it didn't sink in. ‘You don't want us to live here?'

‘In Woolly Weston, no!' She grinned. ‘Let's put it this way, it's nice for a holiday and a bit of peace and quiet, but it wouldn't do long term.'

Tommy felt as if a jail sentence had been lifted. He took a deep breath, shot to his feet and went to order another round. ‘Make them doubles!' He chose a cigar from the rack on the bar. ‘And have one yourself!' he told the landlord, returning triumphant. ‘Bleeding hell, Edie, pack your bag and let's get out of here!' He was all for heading back to the flat and consolidating the decision.

She was still firm about one thing, however. ‘Hold your horses,
Tommy. I can't drop everything and land them in the cart. Anyhow, I mean what I said; I won't go back to Duke Street.'

He frowned, made what was by now a minor readjustment. ‘Righto, we're gonna jack in the flat? Got that. We're gonna look for somewhere new, not on the old patch.'

‘But not too far away,' Edie chipped in. ‘I want to keep in touch with Hettie and Annie and the others.'

He nodded. ‘Do you want us to work side by side like we used to?'

‘Not yet. You get your business going first.'

‘What then?'

‘I could dig for victory in Dolly's allotment, I suppose. Or else, they always need women in the ammunition factories.'

She didn't sound too keen. Tommy tried to envisage how Edie could make the most of her abilities. ‘Got it!' Blimey, he was inspired today. ‘Come back and drive an ambulance for the WVS. That'd suit you down to the ground.'