Keep Smiling Through (41 page)

‘That’s June’s lookout,’ said Fran with a sniff. ‘Come on, Suzy. It’s bedtime. Peggy’s clearly exhausted, and we have to be on duty tomorrow afternoon.’ They said goodnight and ran upstairs.

Peggy dumped the dirty china in the sink, turned off the lights and went in to Jim, who was sitting up in bed waiting for her. She was weary to the bone, almost sleepwalking as she swiftly stripped and pulled on her winceyette nightdress.

‘Come on, me darling,’ he murmured. ‘Climb in and hold onto me. It looks as if you’ve been shipwrecked.’ His smile was warm and loving. ‘Problems sorted?’

‘I’ll tell you in the morning.’ Peggy eyed the bed, realising she could never have climbed into it without him there – not after what she’d witnessed earlier. Pushing that memory firmly to the back of her mind, she slid in beside him and into his waiting arms.

‘I’ve missed you, me darling,’ he murmured, holding her close, his lips buried in her dark curls.

She rested her cheek against his chest, hearing his heartbeat and knowing she was finally home. She closed her eyes. ‘You’re my anchor, Jim Reilly,’ she murmured, warm and soft with love, ‘and don’t ever let me doubt it.’

Rita and Chuck had happily agreed to walk back to the Town Hall while David drove Cissy and Amy and her young man back to Amy’s. He’d promised to come back for Chuck within the hour and drive him back to the American airbase, which wasn’t so far from his own.

Like many other couples, they were strolling along the seafront arm in arm, reliving the evening, and making plans for their next date. The moon was like an apostrophe, playing hide and seek with the scudding clouds, and the waves broke against the shingle, sending diamonds of water into the air. It was cold, but Rita didn’t feel it, for Chuck’s arm was about her waist and she was snuggled into his side. Her very first grown-up New Year’s Eve had fulfilled her highest expectations.

They reached the High Street and slowed their steps as they approached the Town Hall. It was almost two in the morning, but like the other couples drifting by, neither of them wanted the night to end. Chuck pulled her gently into the shadows of a shop doorway and gathered her into his arms for a kiss.

Rita dreamily closed her eyes, forgot about people passing by, and gave into the melting sensations that made her feel weak and pliant. But then she became aware of his hand sliding down from her waist, his fingers gripping her bottom, pressing her tightly against him. She could feel he was aroused, knew that if she didn’t stop this now, things would go too far.

‘I’ve got to go,’ she said breathily, pushing away from him.

He resisted and held her closer. ‘Just a few minutes more,’ he pleaded, his hand urgently hitching at her skirt, his fingers finding the tops of her stockings, the soft flesh of her thighs and the hem of her camiknickers.

‘No.’ Rita pushed him harder and stumbled away from him. ‘I’m not that sort of girl, Chuck.’ She straightened her dress, aware of the amused and curious glances of the people passing by, and furious that he should have taken such liberties.

‘Aw, gee, honey, don’t be like that.’ He smiled at her as he reached for her again. ‘You can’t kiss a guy like that and not expect him to think . . .’

She evaded his outstretched hands. ‘I have a very clear idea of what you were thinking,’ she said, tugging her wrap more firmly about her shoulders. ‘And I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression, but if you want more, then you should find another girl.’

‘I’m sorry too,’ he said shamefacedly. ‘I should have known you were different.’ He took her hand, keeping his distance, the very model of remorse. ‘I really like you, Rita,’ he said softly. ‘I just got carried away in the moment. Please say you’ll forgive me?’

She eyed him thoughtfully. He certainly looked repentant, but did he really understand that she wouldn’t allow any further liberties? ‘If you promise not to try it on again, then I’ll see you on Thursday outside the Anchor,’ she said.

‘I’ll be there, and I promise to behave, Rita.’

She smiled at him, glad he was being so reasonable. ‘Thanks for a really lovely evening, Chuck.’

‘It was my pleasure,’ he replied, not attempting to kiss her again.

Rita walked away from him, her emotions in turmoil. It had been a wonderful evening, but that little scene had spoilt it somehow – had brought her up short and reminded her of all Louise’s dire warnings. If they had not been in such a public place, could she have handled the situation quite so easily?

She turned and waved to him as she reached the Town Hall steps.

He didn’t see, for he was standing on the street corner, hands in pockets, looking totally unruffled and rather too sure of himself as he chatted to another American.

Rita pushed through the heavy double doors and walked into the hall. She still liked him, found him funny and bright and excellent company, but perhaps, if she was to go on seeing him, it would be best to keep away from dark shop doorways and isolated places from now on. For she wasn’t so naïve as to think tonight’s performance wouldn’t be repeated.

THEY HAD MADE
love sweetly and languorously, renewing and confirming their commitment to one another, falling asleep softly bound within each other’s arms. But when Peggy woke, it was to find the other side of the bed empty. She looked blearily at the bedside clock as she prepared to snuggle back under the blankets, and then shot out of bed, appalled to see that it was almost midday.

The house was quiet, but she could see Ron attending to the chickens while Harvey ignored his sharp admonishments and investigated the compost heap. She smiled as she gathered her things together and headed for the bathroom. Life was going on despite everything, and perhaps today she’d be able to get hold of Doreen.

Washed, dressed and ready for what was left of the day, Peggy tried to telephone London without any luck, then went into the kitchen. Mrs Finch was looking rather tired as she dried the dishes and stacked them on the table, and Peggy gently took the cloth from her and gave her a hug.

‘Oh, my dear,’ Mrs Finch sighed. ‘I’m so very glad you’re back. The house just hasn’t been the same, and you wouldn’t believe the shenanigans.’

Peggy smiled. Beach View was so often the scene for some drama or other she wasn’t surprised, but at least the old lady had been spared June’s carrying-on. ‘Let’s leave the drying up for a bit,’ she said. ‘I want to hear what my family has been up to.’

Mrs Finch looked suddenly uncertain. ‘It’s not my way to tell tales,’ she murmured, ‘and no real harm was done.’

Peggy eyed her sharply. ‘I think this calls for a cup of tea and a cigarette,’ she said. ‘Sit down, Mrs Finch. You look a little peaky.’

‘I’m not being sneaky at all,’ the old lady protested.

‘I never said you were,’ shouted Peggy. ‘You look tired.’

‘Oh. Well, I spent the evening playing cards and then stayed with Ena and her sister Mabel.’ She reddened. ‘I’m afraid I drank rather too much sherry,’ she confessed, ‘and don’t feel terribly chipper.’

Peggy found her two aspirins to wash down with her tea and then sat by the range. ‘So,’ she prompted. ‘You were going to tell me what’s been happening since I left.’

Mrs Finch giggled. ‘It was quite funny really,’ she began. ‘You hadn’t been gone more than a few hours before the fun started.’

Peggy listened with growing alarm as Mrs Finch relayed the story of Ron, the pilot, Lady Sylvia, the parachute, and the hidden cache of whisky and cigarettes that had had to be quickly moved elsewhere. She might have known she couldn’t leave Beach View without someone doing something daft. But Ron had proved his bravery and stamina, Cissy and Martin had come through the attack on the airbase, and it seemed Christmas had gone extremely well, with the added bonus of nylon stockings, Sobranie cigarettes and Fortnum’s goodies.

The news that Doris had come round to ingratiate herself with Lady Sylvia came as no surprise, and she laughed as Mrs Finch did a brilliant impression of how the conversation between the two women had gone.

‘Ron was thrilled that Rosie agreed to come on Christmas Day,’ Mrs Finch continued. ‘I think he was getting rather worried that she had another suitor.’ She twiddled with her hearing aid, making it whine quite alarmingly. ‘Some horrid chap called Findlay, I think. Nasty piece of work according to dear Ron.’

Peggy felt a chill. She knew Findlay of old and had thought him long gone. What on earth was he doing back in Cliffehaven? Realising it was pointless to ask Mrs Finch, Peggy helped her adjust the hearing aid and changed the subject. ‘June’s decided to move out,’ she said. ‘She left last night.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Mrs Finch sniffed. ‘A bit too fond of the men, that one.’ She looked at Peggy over her teacup. ‘I suppose it’s all right to tell you now she’s gone, but I caught her only last week trying to sneak some man into the house.’

‘Oh, Mrs Finch,’ Peggy experienced a deep sense of shame that this sweet little old lady should be involved in such tawdry business. ‘How awful for you. I’m so sorry.’

Mrs Finch giggled. ‘Nothing for you to be sorry about,’ she said airily. ‘I quite enjoyed sending him off with a flea in his ear and giving that hussy a piece of my mind. Just because I’m old, doesn’t mean I’m daft, you know.’

Peggy patted her hand and smiled. ‘No one would ever make the mistake of thinking you weren’t as sharp as a box of knives.’

Mrs Finch sipped her tea. ‘If June’s gone,’ she said thoughtfully, ‘then we can move people about and give poor little Rita and that Louise woman somewhere to stay.’ Her little face puckered with concern. ‘It’s heartbreaking to think of her being bombed out twice. And now that most of the houses around Barrow Lane have been flattened, as well as the asylum, the Town Hall isn’t the nicest place to be with so many crammed in there.’

‘Rita’s been bombed out again?’ Peggy listened as Mrs Finch told her about the asylum taking a direct hit and burning almost to the ground. Looking at the clock, Peggy finished her tea and reached for her coat. ‘Where’re Jim and the others?’

‘Jim’s doing the matinee. He said to let you sleep as long as you wanted because you were clearly exhausted by that awful journey. Anne’s at the hospital for her regular check-up, Cissy is still at Amy’s and Martin is back at the airbase. Fran and Suzy just left for work, and I think Ron’s in the garden.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘Oh, and Lady Sylvia is at the hospital discussing the possibility of Christopher going home for his recuperation and physiotherapy.’ She smiled. ‘With so many people in the house I can’t keep up with all the comings and goings.’

‘I’m looking forward to meeting Lady Sylvia,’ Peggy said as she pulled on her coat. ‘She sounds just the sort of woman I’d like.’

‘She’s very similar to you in many ways,’ said Mrs Finch, ‘and doesn’t put on airs and graces like your Doris. She’s fitted in here very well.’

‘No doubt we’ll meet eventually.’ Peggy reached for her handbag, gloves and gas mask box. ‘I’m off to find Rita and Louise. Do we have enough food in the larder, or should I try and find something in the shops to eke it out?’

Mrs Finch nodded. ‘Jim came home with several tins of bully beef the other night.’ Her eyes twinkled with fun. ‘I didn’t bother asking where he’d got them – he’d only have given me some old blarney. There’s plenty of Oxo, potatoes and onions, so I can do a nice hash and mash, with stewed apples to follow.’

‘Would you mind terribly making a start on tea? Only it may take a bit of time to find them both and then get back here and move the rooms round.’

‘Not at all,’ Mrs Finch replied. Her lips twisted. ‘I don’t know how well that Louise will fit in here, though.’

Peggy frowned as she did up her coat and reached for a headscarf. ‘It’s not like you to take a dislike to anyone without reason. What is it about Louise that’s ruffled your feathers?’

‘She’s far too hysterical and dramatic for my liking, and turns her nose up at the first sign of Rita having any fun. I suspect that poor little girl has had to put up with a great deal from that woman – even to the point of having to withdraw her application for the WAAFs.’

Peggy absorbed this new piece of information with a heavy heart. ‘Don’t worry, Mrs Finch,’ she said evenly, ‘once Rita’s under my roof, I’ll see she gets all the love and support she needs, don’t you fret.’

The Town Hall was in chaos as usual, with harassed volunteers manning tables piled with donated clothes, household utensils and toys, and racks crammed with coats and jackets, and boxes full of shoes. It was a complete bun-fight as women rummaged, babies wailed and toddlers got under everyone’s feet.

There was no sign of Doris, who was supposed to be in charge, but then that was hardly surprising. The ‘great unwashed’, as she referred to the dispossessed, were merely to be administrated from afar – getting involved in the actual day-to-day running of this WVS centre was not her cup of tea at all. She left that sort of thing to women like Peggy, who happily did several shifts a week.

Peggy smiled, waved back at the many greetings, and hurriedly did a search of the downstairs rooms before climbing the grand staircase to the assembly rooms, where she spotted Rita almost immediately. Standing unseen in the doorway, Peggy watched her for a moment.

Rita was a small, still island in the midst of the bustle, her head bent as she busily repaired what looked like a tear in her overalls. Her hair was shining, her skin was glowing and there seemed to be an air of contentment about her as she ignored the noise and concentrated on her needlework. There was no sign of Louise.

Peggy moved towards her and Rita looked up. Peggy opened her arms, and with a gasp of delight, the girl abandoned her sewing and raced to her, holding her in a hug that had them both stumbling.

‘I’m so glad you’re all right,’ Rita breathed, looking lovingly into her face. ‘When did you get back?’

Peggy smoothed back her riot of dark curls, warmed by the girl’s welcome and the sight of her lively, pretty face. ‘Late last night,’ she replied, ‘and now I’ve come to take you and Louise home with me. It’ll be a bit of a squash, but I’ve got a spare room now, so you don’t have to stay in this bedlam any more.’