Far From Home (39 page)

Cissy glanced at Danuta before replying, but she seemed intent upon reading the article, sharing the newspaper with Polly and Anne, and didn’t look back.

‘Amy and I have decided to do something useful for a change,’ she said rather nervously. ‘We’re both going to brush up on our typing and join the WAAFs.’ She looked at their disbelieving faces and lifted her chin in defiance. She would show them she was capable of more than dancing in the back row of the chorus. ‘We went to the recruitment office this morning, and it seems they’re crying out for more secretaries.’

Jim sank into the fireside chair with a deep sigh. ‘God help the air force,’ he muttered. ‘Haven’t they got enough on their plate without you and Amy in their ranks?’

Cissy bridled. ‘There’s no need to be like that, Dad. I did typing at school and I came top in my class. It won’t be long before I get it up to speed again.’

Peggy was still clearly mulling over the consequences of Witherspoon’s shocking downfall. ‘Will you have to go to court, Cissy?’ she asked, her expression fretful.

‘I shouldn’t think so,’ she soothed. ‘We all had to give a statement to the police, and Chief Inspector Craddock said that as we knew nothing about what had been going on, we wouldn’t be called to give evidence.’

‘Thank God,’ breathed Peggy. ‘But what about the contract we signed? Will you still have to honour it if someone else takes over the troupe?’

‘Over my dead body,’ growled Jim. ‘And if that man, or any of his cronies, comes within a hundred miles of Cissy or this family, he’ll find that contract shoved somewhere incredibly dark and painful.’

Cissy giggled and Peggy smiled uncertainly.

Jim rose from the chair, fetched his plate from the hob and slammed it down on top of the discarded newspaper. The fish pie was consumed at a great rate and in complete silence.

The crisis was over and, at last, Cissy knew she could go to bed that night and sleep undisturbed by bad dreams.

Danuta pulled on the heavy Red Cross driving coat over her nightdress and sweater before shoving her feet into her slippers and leaving the bedroom. It was after midnight and Polly was sleeping soundly, but Danuta was restless, the baby kicking and squirming inside her so much it was impossible to sleep.

She crept through the silent, dark house and out through the front door, closing it softly behind her and pocketing the key. It had stopped raining and the sky was clear of clouds and studded with cold, bright stars. Breathing in the fresh, clean scent of rain-washed pavements and gardens, and the salty air of the sea, she sat down on the top step and watched the returning Hurricanes and Spitfires fly overhead.

Once they had gone, she sat huddled in her warm coat and listened to the silence. There had been no raids tonight and Cliffehaven slept peacefully for the first time in weeks. She reached into the coat pocket, took out the pack of cigarettes and lit one, before leaning back against the wall, eyes closed, her thoughts drifting.

‘I thought it must be you.’

She almost jumped out of her skin, and the baby kicked out as if it too had been given a fright. ‘Ron,’ she hissed at the shadowy figure emerging through the front door. ‘Don’t sneak up on me like that.’

He grinned as he joined her on the top step. ‘’Tis good to know I can still creep up on anyone, what with me shrapnel wound,’ he muttered. ‘Did I ever tell you how I came to get such a terrible affliction?’

Danuta grinned back at him. ‘Several times,’ she said fondly, ‘and I’m surprised you want anyone to know you were hit in the bottom while squatting in the bushes behind enemy lines.’

‘Ah, well now, that’s the story I tell when people need cheering up,’ he said, as he filled his pipe. ‘The truth of it is I’ve told that story so many times, I’ve almost forgotten how I really came by it.’

‘I find that very hard to believe,’ said Danuta softly.

He winked at her as he got his pipe going to his satisfaction and leant back against the door. ‘Well, I remember enough to know I didn’t care for it,’ he mumbled round the stem of his pipe. ‘Me arse was sore for weeks after.’

Danuta grinned. ‘How did you know I was here?’

‘Smelled your cigarette smoke through me basement window, so I did. Always a giveaway, that. First lesson we’re taught when on covert exercise – absolutely no smoking, no hair preparation or strong soap.’ He continued to smoke his pipe, his expression thoughtful. ‘Talking of covert missions,’ he said finally. ‘How did you manage to get hold of those things from Witherspoon’s safe?’

She stared at him in amazement. ‘How you know this?’ she stammered.

He clenched his teeth round the stem of his pipe as he grinned. ‘Old habits die hard. I caught a glimpse of that envelope the day you went to post it, and wondered why you should be mailing something to Cissy. But I’d known the girl had been troubled for some time, and suspected that envelope might have something to do with whatever was ailing her. I’m not ashamed to admit that when it arrived that morning, I opened it.’

‘But you said nothing? Why?’

‘Because of the letter you put with them. I realised that you’d helped Cissy get out of a very nasty situation, and although some of those photographs were shocking, it was clear Cissy hadn’t been persuaded to overstep the mark.’ He regarded her steadily. ‘How did you know she and her friends were having problems with Witherspoon?’

‘I overheard her talking to Amy just before they were due to leave on the tour,’ she admitted. ‘It was easy to follow them when they left the house that morning, and once I’d established the identity of all four girls, I knew what I was looking for.’

Ron puffed on his pipe, his silence encouraging her to continue.

‘I also followed Witherspoon to see where he lived,’ she said, stamping out her cigarette and putting the butt in her pocket without thinking. ‘There didn’t appear to be a wife or family about, so once they’d left on the tour it was easy to get into his house. It took me a while to find the safe he’d hidden under the bedroom floorboards, but I guessed there would be one somewhere. Men like that keep their dirty secrets close.’

She fell silent and shuddered at the memory of what she’d found in that safe. ‘It didn’t take too long to work out the combination – it was his date of birth,’ she said finally, ‘and it was easy to take what I wanted and transfer the most damaging evidence to the office safe. An anonymous telephone call and an envelope of samples to the police did the rest.’

Ron chewed the stem of his pipe. ‘You did very well, Danuta,’ he said after a long moment.

‘Men like him need castrating,’ she hissed, ‘and if I achieve little else here, at least I’ll know I did the right thing.’

He patted her knee and stood up with a wince of pain. ‘The damp’s getting into me old bones, so it is,’ he groaned. ‘I’m fer me bed.’

Danuta sat for a while after he’d gone. Although it had been quite exciting to use her covert skills again, she needed time to get those awful images out of her head before she went back to bed and attempted to get some much-needed sleep. There had been a man like Witherspoon in Warsaw – he’d been hung – and she hoped the same fate awaited the Englishman.

With a sigh, she turned her mind to happier things and the appointment she’d had earlier. The baby was coming along nicely according to the lovely, gentle Dr Craig, who’d come out of retirement to run a general practice on the far side of town. He hadn’t even raised an eyebrow when she explained her circumstances, but had warned her to start taking it easy now she had reached her fifth month.

Danuta looked up at the stars and the empty sky, thinking of Jean-Luc, the ache for him returning to haunt her. She blinked away the tears and deliberately switched to more practical things. She was on her own, and once the baby was born her life would be very difficult – but this baby she had made with him was precious, and she would find a way to survive.

She didn’t want to have to give in her notice at the Red Cross until it was absolutely necessary, and so far no one had even noticed how thick she was getting round the middle. She grinned. The overalls and heavy coat hid a great deal, but the day would come soon when someone would notice, and then she’d be sent home to face Peggy.

Danuta frowned into the darkness, trying to work out how Mrs Reilly might react to the fact she hadn’t confided in her about her condition. Peggy was a sweet, accommodating woman, but Danuta suspected she would be very angry to discover how duplicitous Danuta had been from the moment she’d arrived at Beach View.

Clambering to her feet, she let herself into the house and climbed the stairs. She would deal with that problem when it arose, but for now she would just carry on as usual.

Peggy had risen early after not having slept much at all. She and Jim had talked for a long time after they’d gone to bed, and they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms, comforted that their daughter had come to no harm, and that justice would be done. But each of them bore a deep guilt at how easily they had been taken in by the man, and it was this that had brought about the disturbed night.

There were three warning sirens during the morning, and in the end Peggy was so sick of running out of the house to the Anderson shelter that she refused to do it any more. She wanted a bath and a moment of peace to get ready for Sally’s wedding, and something as irritating as another air raid was not going to stop her.

Jim and Ron could protest all they liked, but then all they had to do was wash and shave and put on a suit. She had to do her hair and make-up, find a pair of stockings that hadn’t been darned, and struggle into a corset before she could dress in her suit and hat and find her gloves – all of which took time and effort if she was to look her best and do Sally proud.

The rain had stopped by lunchtime, which was a blessing, and it was quite a little parade that left the house promptly at one. Ron had been told very firmly to leave Harvey behind, and the dog could be heard howling as they all set off. Jim looked handsome in his suit as he gave Mrs Finch his arm and they walked slowly down the road to the trolleybus stop.

Peggy couldn’t help smiling, the pride lifting her chin as she walked beside a rather disgruntled Ron and saw how radiant her girls were, and how lovely they looked all dressed up. She was a very lucky woman.

Jim left them at the tiny church on the other side of town to walk the few hundred yards to Pearl’s house where he would collect the bride. Peggy knew how proud he was to have been asked to give Sally away in the absence of her father, who was still out there in the Atlantic on the convoys, and Peggy’s soft heart melted at the thought of how dear that little girl had come to be to her family.

The tiny stone church had been lit with dozens of candles. There were no flowers – it was the wrong time of year, and the florists had all closed – but the pews were packed with Sally and John’s friends, and Peggy beamed in delight to see Pearl’s husband Billy sitting next to John in the front row. Pearl must be thrilled to have him home now she was so close to having that baby, she thought, as she sat down and gave Ron a sharp dig in the ribs to remind him to take off his hat.

The congregation was mainly female, and Anne and Cissy started chatting to friends as the soft organ music drifted through the church. Mrs Finch put on her glasses, rummaged for a handkerchief, and opened the hymn book, her hearing aid buzzing away like a hive of bees. She didn’t want to miss a word of the ceremony, for like Peggy, she loved a good cry at a wedding.

The choir entered and took their places by the altar and the organ music drifted into silence as the heavy oak door at the back of the church was opened with a creak and groan. The congregation rose as one and turned to get a glimpse of the bride.

John and Billy got to their feet as the lovely, familiar music began and Sally slowly drifted down the ancient flagstone aisle on Jim’s arm. The beautiful silk dress she’d made for Anne all those months ago emphasised her elfin slenderness, the cloudy veil of lace unable to hide the brilliance of her eyes or the radiance in her lovely face.

Sally’s joy seemed to light up the candlelit church, and Peggy had to dab her eyes as she saw the look of utter adoration on John’s face as he leant heavily on his walking stick and watched her approach.

They stood together at the altar and exchanged their vows, and Peggy had to keep using her handkerchief to stop the tears ruining her make-up. They were meant for one another, it was clear, and the fates that had almost torn them apart had been vanquished. How long ago it seemed that Sally and her little brother had come from London to live with them – how the girl had changed, from waif to beauty – and all because she’d been given the chance to make a life for herself here in Cliffehaven.

Peggy felt a surge of deep affection which was tinged with a certain pride. She had played her own part in the girl’s transformation – she and Jim and Ron. And Jim looked as proud as any father as he placed her hand into John’s, thereby giving her into his care.

She could hear Mrs Finch sniffling beside her and peeked at Betty, John’s mother. She too was in tears. Oh, she thought, the tears streaming, what a happy, happy day.

As John slipped the band of gold on to Sally’s finger and gently drew back her veil, the congregation held their breath and sighed with pleasure as he kissed her with infinite tenderness.

Once the register had been signed, they emerged once more to the sound of the triumphal wedding march. John had to lean heavily on his walking stick, but with Sally lightly holding his arm, he carefully and purposefully walked down the aisle. Their faces said it all, and Peggy wouldn’t have minded betting that there wasn’t a dry eye in the place as everyone followed them outside.