Sealed With a Loving Kiss (15 page)

Sally had made the Christmas stockings back in 1939 when she and her little crippled brother, Ernie, had been evacuated here from London. The family had all still been together then, but now Sally was married to the local Fire Chief, John Hicks, Ernie was in Somerset with Anne, her children and Peggy's two boys – and that little, rather solitary stocking was yet another reminder of how scattered they all were now. But Daisy deserved to enjoy her first Christmas, even if she didn't understand what it was all about.

Peggy determinedly dismissed these thoughts and gave the table a final check. It was covered in a white linen, lace-edged cloth, with candles in jars placed down its length, and Sarah and Jane had made a lovely centrepiece with holly and ivy and green ribbon. The cheap cutlery had been polished, the mismatched glasses gleamed, and her mother's lovely linen napkins had been starched and folded into the shape of miniature mitres by a skilful Sarah.

There would be ten of them, including Daisy, sitting down for lunch, for she'd issued an invitation to Cissy's American, Randolph Stevens as well as – and rather reluctantly – to Captain Hammond, who was also an American and Sarah's friend up on the Cliffe estate. Peggy didn't know exactly what sort of friendship it was between the two of them, and fretted that the girl had had her head turned whilst there was still no news of her fiancé Philip in Singapore.

Yet she'd sent out the invitation when the call had gone out from the American commands to share Christmas with their boys who were so far from home at this special time, and she'd since heard that for every GI and airman there had been fifty such invitations. No doubt the promise of extra rations was a huge incentive, but on the whole the British had finally accepted the Americans into their lives, and with so many of their own men away at war, their presence would fill the all-too-visible gaps at the festive tables.

Doris had decided she and Ted would eat at home and if the weather wasn't too atrocious or something more interesting didn't crop up, then they might come over for afternoon tea. Mary would be at work, and as Rosie knew Tommy would not be welcome, she'd felt she couldn't really leave him on his own, but might pop in later as the pub would be shut until Boxing Day.

Peggy's sister-in-law, Pauline, wouldn't be with them this year, for she'd travelled up to London today to be with her only remaining son who'd been reposted by the RNR to the Tilbury Docks. With her husband, Frank, Jim's older brother, still away with the army, and her other two sons lying somewhere beneath the Atlantic, Peggy could fully understand that Pauline needed to escape the sad memories of the empty house in Tamarisk Bay and be with her boy.

Peggy switched off the light, closed the door and stopped for a moment by the telephone. She'd managed to get through to Somerset earlier in the day and had spoken to everyone, which had upset her terribly. Anne had been quite tearful – probably suffering from the baby-blues – but her boys hadn't seemed at all bothered at having yet another Christmas far from home, and had bombarded her with all their plans for the holiday, which included a huge party for every schoolchild in the area which the Americans were planning in the village hall.

Her parcels had arrived, Vi was stuffing a turkey that had been killed that morning, and there was a real Christmas pudding for afterwards. Vi had made two dozen at the beginning of the war when there had been no rationing and dried fruit was easily found, and her forethought meant that each year they had a proper plum pudding.

With a tremulous sigh, Peggy accepted that at least they were safe and well fed down there, and that Vi would make sure they had a wonderful time. She went into the kitchen. The shops were shut and Christmas was now only a few hours away. There was nothing left to do, and if she'd forgotten anything, then they'd have to go without.

The large chicken Alf the butcher had put aside for her had been gutted, plucked and stuffed with her homemade mixture of breadcrumbs, onions and dried herbs. There was a string of sausages, the tin of ham Cordelia had received from her family in Canada, and fresh sprouts, potatoes and parsnips from Ron's garden.

She hadn't been as forward thinking as Vi and didn't have a store of puddings, so she'd followed the latest recipe she'd found in the
Radio Times
. The enormous pudding was sitting in a china bowl in her larder covered with greased paper, but she did wonder what on earth it would taste like. With so little fruit left over from making the wedding cake, she'd had to use grated carrot and potato to moisten the mixture. A bit of real butter, two eggs from her chickens, and a little sugar along with cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon and a drop or two of brandy gave it the smell and texture of a proper pudding – but it would take three hours to steam it until it was cooked through, and there was no guarantee that anyone would like it.

She turned on the wireless for company and settled down to listen to the carol concert as she reached for the airgraphs which had arrived this morning. She'd only had time to skim through them and was looking forward to reading them properly.

Jim still seemed to spend a lot of time reading now that Colonel Grafton was down with a fever in the medical room, but he'd managed to get a dinner from the officers' mess of roast pork, courtesy of a steward he'd befriended. There had been great excitement at the first sighting of land, and as they'd docked he'd been quite overawed by the beauty of the brick-red earth and the lush green of the palm trees and surrounding jungle.

The name of the port they'd docked in had been blacked out, but Peggy guessed that it was probably somewhere in Africa. Jim went on to describe how the natives had come out in canoes to unload the ship, and as there were no restrictions on lights, the night scene of the clustered buildings that surrounded the port was quite stunning.

He'd packed for the Brigadier, who was leaving the ship to take command of his new regiment, and received a ten bob tip just before he'd disembarked. Stuck on board, he'd got bored with nothing much to do, and it was clear that he hadn't bothered to take up the offer of learning a new language. They were due to set sail the following day, but in the meantime, rain was heavy and the heat and humidity were almost unbearable.

And yet there had been lighter moments, for during a session of spud-bashing the natives had come alongside in their canoes to yell up to the men on deck, and some of them had started pelting them with potatoes. The natives had retaliated with lumps of coal, and the ship's officers had to break up the fight. It had turned out all right, because the natives then sold them bananas, which had been a real treat.

Jim had written eloquently about the jungle that covered the hills right down to the shoreline, and how the mist seemed to be caught like clouds in the jungle canopy which was alive with the sound of chattering insects and howling monkeys. He loved and missed her, sent a kiss and cuddle to Daisy, and hoped that everything was all right at home, and that they enjoyed Christmas. He'd signed it as always ‘SWALK' – sealed with a loving kiss.

She put the airgraphs back into their envelopes and sat for a while trying to imagine the scenes he'd witnessed, and all the new experiences he must be going through. It seemed he was being well fed and that life on board was proving rather idle, if not very comfortable due to the heat and the mosquitoes. But all in all, she suspected he was having the time of his life, though he would find spending Christmas in the tropics very strange.

The click of the front door and a blast of cold air heralded the girls' return, and she quickly went to heat up some more milk for their cocoa. She grinned as they came into the kitchen chattering away like starlings. ‘I don't need to ask if you've had a good evening,' she said. ‘One look at your faces tells me it went well.'

As they took off their coats and scarves and left their umbrellas to dry off on the cellar steps, they told her how full the pub had been, and how they could barely speak because they'd been singing all night.

Peggy smiled and nodded and served out the cocoa. ‘Take that upstairs and get to bed quietly. Cordelia's asleep and I need you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning with so much to do.'

Fran, Jane and Sarah kissed her and hurried off, but Mary lingered.

Peggy was immediately concerned. ‘What's the matter, dear?'

‘I had the strangest conversation with someone earlier this evening, and I'd like to talk about it, if you wouldn't mind,' she said hesitantly.

Peggy sat down and cradled the warm mug of cocoa in her hands. ‘It wasn't Tommy again, was it?'

Mary shook her head. ‘It was a woman. I thought she looked familiar, but it wasn't until she'd gone that I remembered who she was. It was that Eileen I'd seen Findlay talking to the other week.'

As Mary went on to describe the encounter and the conversation that followed, Peggy's uneasiness grew. When the girl had come to the end of her story, she asked, ‘Are you absolutely positive it was the same woman? Can you describe her to me?'

‘She was probably in her late thirties, maybe a bit older. Thin and about average height, but smartly dressed and made up as if she'd just been to the beauty parlour. She had dark hair, and I think her eyes were brown, although it was difficult to tell in the dark. She had a funny accent too, and it reminded me a bit of Ivy's – but Ivy's with the rough edges smoothed, if you know what I mean.'

Peggy hesitated for just a moment, but it was long enough for Mary to become suspicious. ‘You know who Eileen is, don't you?'

‘I was just thinking that your description could fit any number of women,' Peggy hedged. ‘Without seeing her myself, I couldn't possibly be sure.' She patted Mary's knee. ‘I shouldn't worry yourself over it, Mary,' she soothed. ‘Whoever this Eileen is, she obviously had your welfare at heart. I should just accept that and forget about it.'

Mary finished the last of her cocoa. ‘If she's local then I might see her again, but you're right. She was only trying to help, and I think I rather overreacted, if the truth be told, because she caught me on the hop.' She smiled and kissed Peggy's cheek. ‘Thank you, Peggy. Now I really must get to bed. I have an early start in the morning.'

Peggy stared into the fire after Mary had gone upstairs. The fact that Eileen Harris had made a point of speaking to her meant that Tommy Findlay had heard about the girl's search for Cyril, and was still capable of manipulating Eileen into doing his bidding. Thankfully, Mary hadn't revealed the reason behind her search, but Peggy knew that now Tommy's curiosity had been aroused, he wouldn't just let it go. The net was tightening.

CHRISTMAS MORNING DAWNED
bright and crisp, and Peggy was up early to bath and dress Daisy before the hullabaloo began. Ron had already left the house to walk Harvey and Monty; Rita had returned from her night shift at the fire station to snatch a couple of hours' sleep, and Cordelia and the rest of the girls were still upstairs, so at least she had the kitchen to herself for a while. There was a lot to do this morning, and if she didn't get on with it they wouldn't eat until late afternoon.

‘Happy Christmas, Peggy,' said Mary as she came into the kitchen and held out a small parcel wrapped in newspaper. ‘It isn't much,' she said hurriedly. ‘But I hope you like it.'

Peggy was touched that the girl had spent her hard-earned money on a gift for her when it really wasn't at all expected or necessary. She unwrapped the parcel and beamed in delight at the lovely box of scented talc. ‘Oh, my dear, that's a real treat, but you shouldn't have, honestly.' She gave her a hug and reached for the small parcel she'd placed on the table. ‘Thank you, Mary, and here's a little something for you too.'

‘But I didn't expect anything, Peggy.' Mary unfolded the wrapping of white butcher's paper and drew out a hand-knitted blue woollen scarf. ‘Oh, Peggy, it's lovely, and just what I need, and it will go with my favourite sweater perfectly! Thank you so much.'

She kissed Peggy's cheek and sat down with a happy sigh. ‘I've done very well this Christmas,' she said as Peggy bustled about the kitchen. ‘Barbara and Joseph sent me a lovely pair of almost new grey slacks, and Pat sent me a pair of earrings.' She giggled. ‘I know I shouldn't have, but I opened them yesterday, knowing I'd be out all day today.'

Peggy had managed to keep her soppy emotions under control, and now she dished out the porridge and started browning the toast. ‘I suppose your Jack hasn't had the time to go shopping, what with trying to get into the commandos. Still, I expect he'll send something when he can.'

Mary nodded and looked rather down-hearted, which made Peggy wish she hadn't mentioned the boy. ‘You're welcome to join us after work, and stay another night,' she said quickly. ‘Doris and Ted said they might pop in for tea, and if Ivy's at work too, I don't like the thought of you going back to an empty house.'

Mary's smile was a little wan. ‘Ivy's actually off today, but she's planning on going to friends. Perhaps I should have moved in here. It's becoming a second home.'

‘Well, you think about it. You know you're always welcome.' Peggy put the toast on a plate, stopped Daisy from splattering her porridge everywhere and started preparing the mountain of vegetables.

The dilemma of what to do about Mary still made her fretful, and she certainly would have been happier if the girl moved in here so she could keep a closer eye on her. But even then it would prove difficult, for she still had to go to work, still played the piano in the pub and could still be accosted by Tommy or Eileen at any time.

‘Thanks for everything, Peggy,' said Mary a while later as she quickly washed her crockery and prepared to leave. ‘I'm sorry I can't stay and help, but I certainly might come back tonight – perhaps with Ivy, if that's all right?'