Keep Smiling Through (42 page)

‘Oh, Aunty Peg, you really don’t know how much that means to me.’ Rita gave her a watery smile. ‘It’s been a bit of a roller coaster these past few weeks, and it’ll be lovely to have somewhere to call home again.’

‘Beach View will always be your home for as long as you need it,’ said Peggy softly. ‘I’m just so sorry I’ve been away, otherwise I’d have found you both a corner somewhere.’

‘Anne’s had enough to worry about, what with Ron and Lady Sylvia,’ replied Rita. ‘We were fine, really, Aunt Peg.’

‘You certainly seem to be glowing with health despite all you’ve been through. The resilience of youth is a wonderful thing.’ Peggy eyed the two truckle beds that were squashed in a corner. ‘Where’s Louise?’

‘She’s at Goldman’s, but her shift won’t be over for another four hours.’

Peggy eyed the dungarees and flying jacket which were lying on the bed next to a lovely blue dress she could have sworn once belonged to Cissy. ‘Is that all you managed to rescue?’ she asked in astonishment.

‘You can’t risk keeping stuff here,’ Rita said, glancing at Aggie who was glowering on the other side of the room, ‘too many light-fingered chancers. My very best and most precious things are safely locked in the pannier of the Norton, which is at the fire station.’ She gave Peggy a beaming smile. ‘Mr Hicks has taken me on as a driver-mechanic,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I have a week left at the factory first, but it’s ever so exciting, and you’ll never guess, my first outing was to the asylum.’

‘You’ve certainly had a bit of a time, haven’t you? But it seems you’re happy enough.’

‘Oh, Aunt Peg, I am happy, and I’ve got so much to tell you.’

‘Let’s get your things together and tell Louise where you’ll be first.’ She picked up the moth-eaten flying jacket that had somehow survived since the last war and handed it to Rita. ‘We’ll go to Beach View on the motorbike, I think.’

Rita looked at her in amazement, and then laughed. ‘I don’t think you’d find it very comfortable, Aunt Peg – especially not in a dress.’

‘It’s long enough to cover the essentials,’ she said airily, ‘and if Ron can sit on the back of that thing, then so can I.’ She giggled at Rita’s shocked expression. ‘I’ve always wanted to see what it was like, and there’s no time like the present.’

Rita gathered up her few things and tucked her hand in the crook of Peggy’s arm. ‘It’s lovely to have you home again,’ she said. ‘I’ve missed not being able to talk to you.’

‘Well, I’m here now,’ Peggy said with a soft smile, ‘and once we’ve sorted out a room for you, we’ll sit down and you can tell me all the things you’ve wanted to say while I’ve been gone.’

Goldman’s factory was twice the size now his brother-in-law, Solomon, had relocated from London, and the building sprawled across an entire block. Peggy marched in and told the po-faced supervisor, Simmons, why they were there. She waved to Sally Hicks, then hurried to find Louise.

Louise’s face lit up as Peggy told her her plan, and although it was obvious to Peggy that she was longing to quiz Rita about something, she kept silent and quickly handed over the big bag that was stowed beneath her sewing machine table.

Rita put it in the second pannier and then helped Peggy to keep her dignity as she perched on the seat of the Norton, tucking her skirt beneath her and wrapping her coat over her exposed knees.

Peggy was a little nervous as Rita revved the engine, and she clutched her waist as they set off down Camden Road. She grinned at the astonished expressions of the people they passed, and would have waved if she hadn’t been holding Rita’s jacket so tightly. She was fine while they were going in a straight line, but didn’t like it at all when Rita leaned the bike at an angle to take a sharp left then right at the junction.

As they pulled up behind the gleaming Rolls-Royce that was parked outside Beach View, Peggy experienced a rush of regret as well as relief. That had been scary, but fun – perhaps she’d get up the nerve to do it again.

Rita swung off the Norton and grinned. ‘Did you enjoy it, Aunt Peg? I went very carefully so as not to frighten you.’

‘It was a bit hair-raising,’ she admitted. ‘The next time, I think I’ll wear trousers.’

‘Next time?’ Rita chortled. ‘Goodness, you
are
full of surprises today.’

‘I might need a little help getting off, dear,’ muttered Peggy. ‘Don’t want half the street getting a view of my knickers.’

They were both giggling as Rita helped Peggy dismount with as much decorum as possible, and she was straightening her skirt and adjusting her coat when the front door opened and a very elegant, beautiful woman emerged.

‘That’s Lady Sylvia,’ muttered Rita as she took off her helmet and goggles and shook out her hair.

Peggy was all of a dither as she eyed the immaculate vision standing on her doorstep. What must she be thinking? ‘Hello, there,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I’m Peggy Reilly.’

Sylvia grinned. ‘I thought you might be,’ she said, coming down the steps and shaking her hand. ‘Delighted to meet you at last. I admire your pluck, Mrs Reilly. I don’t know that I’d be brave enough to ride that.’

Peggy relaxed immediately. ‘Please call me Peggy,’ she said, ‘and I wasn’t very brave at all if the truth be known. I was hanging onto Rita for dear life.’

They smiled at one another, sharing the intimacy of two women of the same age who had found a like-minded friend.

Rita began pulling the bags from the pannier and dumped them on the pavement. ‘I don’t have to be at work until tomorrow,’ she said with an impish grin, ‘so if you’d like a ride on the Norton, Lady Sylvia, you only have to ask.’

Sylvia laughed. ‘I may take you up on that – give me time to think about it.’ She eyed the bags. ‘Are you moving in with us, Rita?’ At her happy nod, Sylvia smiled. ‘How lovely,’ she said enthusiastically, grabbing one of the bags and carrying it up the steps into the hall.

Peggy was warmed by her natural smile and the easy way she seemed to want to muck in – and yet she was intrigued by Sylvia and wondered what her story was. Everyone had a story, and Peggy suspected that Lady Sylvia Anstruther-Norton’s would be very interesting indeed.

Hugging this thought to herself, she followed Rita up the steps and closed the door behind them. ‘It’ll be a bit of a squeeze, but there’s just about room enough for two beds in June’s old room,’ she said to Rita.

Sylvia made no comment on June’s whereabouts, merely raised a fine eyebrow. ‘I’ll move in there,’ she said. ‘My room is big enough for two beds, and I really don’t need all that space just to sleep in.’

‘I can’t expect you to do that,’ gasped Peggy, who’d been told about her paying the rent on top of the government grant. ‘Rita and Louise will be fine up there.’

‘I insist,’ said Sylvia, and without another word, went upstairs to her room and began to pack her cases.

Peggy and Rita looked at one another. ‘She’s ever so nice, isn’t she?’ said Rita.

Peggy nodded as Mrs Finch came into the hall and welcomed Rita into the fold. Then she became businesslike, took off her coat and gloves and went in search of fresh linen. ‘I’ll help Lady Sylvia do the bed upstairs, and leave you to do yours and Louise’s. Ron should be about somewhere, he can put the iron bedstead together that he’s stored in the shed, and bring it upstairs for you. Then I think we should have a spot of lunch. It’s almost two o’clock.’

Rita chatted with Mrs Finch for a few moments before she found Ron and asked about the bed and mattress. Then she carried the bags upstairs and dumped them on the landing as Lady Sylvia emerged from the big front room with a cheerful smile.

‘It’s all quite clean,’ she assured Rita. ‘I gave it a good once-over just this morning.’ She didn’t wait for a reply, and hurried up the stairs to the single room under the eaves.

Rita walked into the room and stood for a moment absorbing the tranquillity and familiar scents and sounds of this old, much loved house. Beach View had been a part of her life since childhood, and now it would be her home. She would be safe here, warm and loved and given the encouragement her father would have provided if only he could be here too. Perhaps now Louise would feel more secure, and at last begin to learn to let go.

She took her father’s battered and scarred shoe from her bag and placed it almost reverently on the small mantelshelf. It might look incongruous there, but it was all she had left of him and Barrow Lane, and it made the room feel homelier than ever.

Humming one of the tunes from last night’s dance, she put away her few clothes in the drawers and the wardrobe, and waited for Ron to assemble the other bed. John Hicks’ wife Sally and her little brother Ernie had lived in this room when they’d been evacuated from London at the beginning of the war, and Sally had told Rita how she’d come to love it as well as the warm-hearted people who’d taken them in. Now Rita could finally be more at ease, the burden of responsibility for Louise lifted and shared: 1941 was going to be a good year.

Peggy and Sylvia got to know one another a little more as they swiftly stripped the bed and remade it with fresh linen. June had left a mess, which wasn’t surprising after her rapid departure, and as Peggy swept and dusted, and Sylvia unpacked her things into the drawers, Peggy learned all about Sylvia’s two sons who were on battleships protecting the Atlantic convoys, and her hopes to take Christopher home very soon.

‘I’m very lucky in that I have good transport,’ she said. ‘He can rest easily in the back of the Rolls with his leg propped up. But the doctor said I should leave it another two weeks just to further the healing process.’

Sylvia paused in the act of folding a caramel-coloured cashmere sweater into a drawer. ‘It’s been lovely staying here,’ she said on a sigh, ‘and everyone has been so very kind, but I miss my home.’

‘Home is certainly where the heart is,’ agreed Peggy, ‘but my two youngest are so far away, and I’m constantly torn.’ She surreptitiously watched Sylvia as she continued unpacking. ‘What about your husband? He’s in London, isn’t he?’

Sylvia nodded. ‘I haven’t seen much of him since this war started,’ she said softly. ‘He’s very involved with the Foreign Office as well as in the House of Lords.’ She sank onto the dressing table stool. ‘I have no idea how he fared in that terrible raid,’ she said on a tremulous sigh. ‘The blessed telephone lines are still down.’

‘My sister Doreen was in the middle of it all, as well,’ said Peggy. ‘I’ve decided to accept that no news is good news until I can get hold of her.’

Sylvia smiled at her. ‘This war doesn’t make things easy, does it? But at least James was in a position to stir some life into the authorities over Louise’s menfolk.’

Peggy knew nothing of this, so Sylvia went on to tell her. ‘It seems Antonino and Roberto sort of slipped through the gaps in the system,’ she concluded, ‘but now James has alerted the author-ities, I’m sure Louise will soon know where they are.’

‘That was very kind of you both,’ said Peggy. ‘Louise is lost without Tino and . . .’ She decided she’d said enough.

‘Knowing where they are will give Rita some respite,’ finished Sylvia. She smiled. ‘She was the reason I got James to see what he could do. That poor child is so loyal to Louise, I don’t think she realises how expertly she’s being manipulated.’

Peggy’s estimation of Sylvia rose higher. ‘Thank you for caring enough,’ she murmured. ‘Most people wouldn’t have even noticed.’

Sylvia laughed and moved away from the dressing table. ‘I have an eye for such things,’ she said enigmatically. ‘Now, I don’t know about you, but I could do with a cup of tea. I’ll go down and put the kettle on.’

Peggy finished the dusting, eyed the room with satisfaction and closed the door. Sylvia might belong to a social class way above the humble Reillys, but she had a heart of gold, and Peggy regarded herself as fortunate to have the chance to get to know her.

Rita and Louise had been at Beach View Boarding House for two weeks. They’d settled in quickly, and despite Louise complaining that Rita was always going out with Cissy and her friends, she seemed much more willing to give Rita her freedom. Perhaps Peggy had had a few words with her after their long chat on her first evening – or perhaps Louise just felt she didn’t need her quite so much now she had other people to lean on. Either way, Rita was delighted to be young and carefree again.

Rita had met Chuck outside the cinema as planned, but as they’d sat in the back row, he’d tried to put his hand up her skirt again, and she’d told him straight that she was having none of it. She’d been so angry that she’d slapped his face and left her seat to a chorus of titters before the film ended, pushing past the other people before storming outside.

She hadn’t waited to see if he was following her, and had run down the High Street and round the corner into Camden Road, the tears blinding her, the shame of her very public exit from the cinema warming her face. Half of Cliffehaven must have seen.

Cissy and her friends had been coming out of the Anchor and, after one glance at Rita’s expression, she had linked arms with her, said goodbye to her friends and steered her back into the pub. Rosie also seemed to realise something was wrong and gave them drinks before shooing them upstairs into her parlour so they could have a private heart-to-heart.

Cissy had listened as Rita’s tale poured out, offered quiet advice and related some of her own horror stories, which had made Rita feel a lot better. They’d come to the conclusion that it would be best to stick to English officers in the future and to always be one of a crowd.

Rita always left the Norton at the fire station now she’d finished working at the factory. Being so close to Beach View meant she didn’t really need it, and it was safer there than in Ron’s shed. She loved her work at the fire station and was learning a great deal from George Wickens as they serviced the engines and did repairs and replacements of parts to the collection of vans, motorbikes and bicycles that were used by the volunteers.

There had been some activity from the local airbase over the past two weeks, but although they’d heard distant booms, and enemy bombers had raced towards the Thames, no bombs or incendiaries had fallen on Cliffehaven.