Some Lucky Day (6 page)

Smiling at her unintended joke, she opened the back door and wheeled the pram into the basement which provided a scullery and two bedrooms. Ron slept down here with his dog Harvey and his two ferrets – hence the pong of damp dog, old socks and straw bedding. Before the war her two young sons had slept in the second bedroom, and every time she came down here she half expected to see Bob and Charlie come rushing out, demanding to be fed.

The thought of how far away Somerset was and how long they’d been away was depressing, and made her feel more tired than ever. At least her eldest daughter Anne was safely with them now she had a daughter of her own, but that didn’t make the separation any easier to bear, or ease the worry of knowing that her husband Jim and his brother Frank were somewhere up north with the army and unlikely to be home on leave any time soon.

Ignoring the jumble of Ron’s boots, coats and general rubbish piled everywhere, Peggy unfastened the rain cover on the old pram and drew back the blankets that covered an awakening Daisy. This blasted war had scattered her family to the four winds, and if she let herself think about it too much, she’d just curl under a blanket into a ball of misery and not come out until it was all over.

But, she reasoned as she carried the squirming baby up the stone steps, giving in to things was not her way, and she would battle through until the war was won. She could be thankful that her daughter Cissy, and Anne’s husband, RAF Commander Martin Black, were stationed at Cliffe airfield, which was less than an hour’s drive away, so they could make the occasional visit.

The kitchen was deserted for once, with no sign of Ron or his oversized and boisterous lurcher Harvey, and Peggy was rather relieved. With so many people living at Beach View it was often quite noisy, and at this moment she just wanted to see to Daisy and then put her feet up for a quiet moment with a cup of tea and a fag.

She changed Daisy’s nappy, gave her some sweetened water to drink and a rusk to chew then placed her in the playpen which had been jammed into the corner of the kitchen. Now six months old, Daisy had just learned to crawl and could travel surprisingly fast. It had got to the stage where there had to be a sturdy fireguard fixed in front of the Kitchener range, and anything of value placed out of her reach.

With Daisy drooling happily on her rusk, Peggy placed the kettle on the hob and went out to fetch the washing off the line. Returning to the kitchen, she flung open the window and left the doors open to garner some relief from the heat of the range, which had to be lit all year round to provide hot water and cooking facilities. Folding the nappies and bed linen into a neat pile on the kitchen table, she made a pot of tea from the used leaves that had been left to dry in a saucer. Adding a drop of milk and a few grains of precious sugar, she sat down with a long sigh of relief and lit a well-earned cigarette.

Beach View Boarding House had been in her family now for two generations. Peggy had moved back in after she married Jim, and then they’d taken over from her parents when they’d retired to a bungalow further along the coast. They had died some years ago, and in the few quiet moments Peggy had, she still mourned them.

Once war had been declared the holidaymakers no longer came to Cliffehaven, and although the elderly, bird-like Cordelia Finch was a long-term boarder, and the two nurses Suzy and Fran had moved in, Ron’s pension didn’t go far and Peggy had found it hard to make ends meet on Jim’s meagre wages as a projectionist at the local cinema. She had gone to the billeting office and put her name down, and soon every room had been filled.

Peggy sighed. That had been back in the winter of 1939 when it seemed as if all the talk of war was hot air, and the threats of bombing raids and invasion were merely the wild predictions of the pessimists. It felt like a lifetime ago, and now the country was almost on its knees from the battering of the Luftwaffe and the day-to-day struggle to feed and clothe a family while keeping a roof over their heads and a fire in the hearth. The cinema had been flattened, Jim had been called up, and the lovely seaside holiday town was now barely recognisable.

But some things never changed, she thought contentedly. The kitchen was still shabby, the furniture had definitely seen better days, and the colourful pattern on the oilcloth covering the battered table had faded to a mellow blur. But the pale yellow lino on the floor was new, and the blue and white gingham curtains at the window and beneath the stone sink brought notes of cheerfulness. This was the heart of her home, and no matter what ailed her or made her fret, she could always find peace in this room.

Peggy let her gaze trawl over the battered shelves in the chimney alcove which groaned beneath the weight of mismatched china and cooking pots; and over the crowded mantelpiece lined with ration books, photographs, old letters, cheap ornaments and a plethora of hastily written reminders and shopping lists that no one ever read.

She eyed the wireless that brought them all entertainment as well as the news from the outside world, and smiled at a giggling Daisy before glancing disconsolately at the corner larder. There was very little in it now, for the Atlantic convoys were finding it harder than ever to get through with supplies and therefore rationing was necessarily even tighter. Finding a tin of anything was like unearthing gold dust, and the queues at the shops were endless, and very often disheartening.

She leaned back in her chair and smoked her Park Drive cigarette, too tired to think about what to cook for tea. It was a never-ending trial to feed so many people and try to be creative about it – and if it hadn’t been for Ron’s poaching and his vegetable garden, and the eggs from the chickens, she suspected they would all go hungrier than ever.

Despite her weariness and the challenges she was forced to face every day, Peggy remained optimistic. Ron might be a scruffy old Irish scoundrel who carried ferrets about in his poacher’s coat and let his dog sleep on his bed, but he’d been a tower of strength even before Jim had been called up. He’d since proved to be an absolute rock on which everyone in this house of women had leaned upon at one time or another.

As for Cordelia, she had become the grandmother they had all been missing, and her gentle wit and sense of fun endeared her to all of them – especially when her hearing aid was on the blink and conversations became convoluted and almost surreal.

Peggy smiled as she thought of her other lodgers. The girls all came from very different backgrounds, and yet they had formed a close bond as they battled the day-to-day inconveniences and strove to find humour in the darkest of situations, and Peggy couldn’t imagine life without them. Elegant Suzy and flame-haired Irish Fran worked long hours as nurses at the nearby hospital, and Suzy was now courting Peggy’s nephew, the lovely, rather shy Anthony. Cordelia’s great-nieces, Sarah and Jane, had escaped the fall of Singapore by a whisker and had fitted into life at Beach View extremely well, despite their rather exotic upbringing in Malaya. Now Sarah worked as a lumberjill on the Cliffe estate, and Jane divided her time between delivering the morning milk and doing the accounts for a nearby uniform factory.

And then there was dear little Rita, who was a local girl and a childhood friend of Cissy’s. She’d lost her mother while still at school and now her father was away with the army. Rita had had the misfortune to be bombed out twice before Peggy found her and brought her into the fold, and as she was a bit of a tomboy, and preferred dashing about on her motorbike to going to dances, she was perfectly suited to her job as a fire engine driver.

Peggy stubbed out her cigarette and was about to pick up Daisy and take her into the garden away from the heat of the range when she heard the slam of the front door.

‘Only me,’ called Cordelia from the hall. ‘Is anyone at home?’

‘I’ve been back for a while,’ Peggy replied as she went to greet her at the kitchen door. ‘Did you enjoy your bridge party?’

Cordelia nodded and smiled as she took off her hat and carefully placed it on the table, well away from Daisy’s searching fingers. ‘I certainly did.’ She hooked her walking stick over a chair and patted Daisy’s dark curls. ‘It’s been a while since I last played, but I’ve lost none of my skills, and thankfully Albert Marsh was a worthy partner and didn’t let the side down.’

Her smile broadened into a wide grin as she dug into her capacious handbag. ‘Look what I won,’ she declared.

Peggy gasped at the wondrous sight of the perfect orange. ‘I haven’t seen one of those since the summer of 1939,’ she breathed.

‘Albert got one as well, so we don’t have to feel guilty about eating all of it,’ said Cordelia as she handed it reverently to Peggy.

Peggy closed her eyes and breathed in the long-forgotten scent of the fruit, her mouth watering at the thought of sinking her teeth into the soft flesh and letting the sweet juices run into her mouth. ‘But where on earth did it come from?’

‘Mrs Fullerton.’

Peggy’s eyes widened. ‘Not the old dragon that lives in the manor house behind the rhododendron hedge on the main road?’

Cordelia nodded. ‘One and the same. Ghastly old trout and horribly snooty about everyone – but she evidently has an orangery at the back of her posh house, and very graciously decided to provide two of her oranges as first prize.’

Peggy shook her head in awe as she carefully placed the orange in the centre of her kitchen table like an art exhibit. ‘She and my sister Doris know each other well, and share the same unfortunate belief that they’re better than the rest of us,’ she murmured.

She looked across the table at Cordelia and shot her a mischievous grin. ‘They’re always trying to outdo each other – but I do believe Agatha Fullerton has come up trumps this time. Doris can’t hope to compete with something as grand as an orangery.’

Cordelia sniffed delicate disapproval of the pair of them and poured herself a cup of the very weak tea. She and Doris had never seen eye to eye, and things had become heated between them when Doris had moved, uninvited, into Beach View to look after things while Peggy was in hospital recovering from her operation. Thankfully Doris was back in her own home and rarely ventured to this side of Cliffehaven – which she deemed to be the less salubrious part of the town – so Peggy and Cordelia no longer had to put up with her.

‘Did Ruby and her mother get here on time?’ Cordelia asked as she sat at the table with her cup of tea and gazed at the orange.

Peggy couldn’t take her eyes off it either as she nodded. ‘Ruby looked very well and was clearly delighted to be back here again. Stan was just as pleased. He’d pressed his stationmaster’s uniform, had a shave and polished his shoes for the occasion, and was quite bashful when Ruby introduced him to her mother.’

The little face was bright, the blue eyes twinkling with curiosity. ‘What’s Ethel like?’

Peggy forced herself to look away from the orange. ‘She’s short and far too thin, with dark curly hair and brown eyes just like Ruby. Some decent food, good fresh air and proper living conditions will put some meat on her bones and bring colour to her face, that’s for sure.’ Peggy chuckled. ‘She doesn’t say much, but when she does it comes out at the speed of machine-gun fire, and is almost impossible to understand.’

‘I expect she was feeling a bit daunted by having to meet you and Rita and Stan all at once,’ said Cordelia.

‘Maybe, but I’m sure Ruby would have warned her that we’d be there to meet them off the train.’ Peggy’s gaze returned to the orange. ‘Ethel’s younger than I expected,’ she continued. ‘Probably not much more than thirty-eight or nine, and although life has clearly ground her down, she still seems to possess the indomitable spirit of a true survivor.’ She smiled. ‘She was clearly nervous about starting a new life down here, but her determination to make the best of things showed in her choice of hat. It was quite magnificent, with blowsy silk roses all over the crown that matched her defiant red earrings and lipstick.’

‘She sounds a bit too much like dear little Sally’s ghastly mother,’ said Cordelia. ‘That one was a complete floozy.’

Peggy had a sharp vision of her first evacuee’s mother and quickly shook her head. ‘Oh, no. Ethel might be a rough diamond, but she’s fearsomely protective of Ruby and is nothing like the awful Florrie.’ She chuckled at the memory of Stan’s rather awed expression. ‘I got the feeling Stan was quite taken with her.’

Cordelia pulled a face. ‘He’s far too old for all that nonsense,’ she said firmly.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Peggy. ‘Ron’s about the same age, and he’s doing all right with Rosie Braithwaite.’ She frowned. ‘Where is Ron, by the way? I thought he was supposed to be building our outside lav?’

‘He was, but Harvey’s gone missing again and he’s out looking for him,’ said Cordelia with a hint of asperity.

‘It’s not like Harvey to keep running off,’ said Peggy.

Cordelia went pink. ‘Ron thinks he’s gone courting,’ she said in a fluster.

‘Ah,’ said Peggy and tried not to smile. ‘It sounds as if he and Ron have got their second wind and are searching for their lost youth. Good luck to the pair of them, I say. I wouldn’t mind a bit of romance to liven things up, and that’s a fact.’

Cordelia was not amused. ‘Returning to a rather more wholesome subject,’ she said primly, ‘do you think Ethel will settle down to life in Amelia’s bungalow? It’s awfully quiet here in Cliffehaven, and she sounds as if she’s the sort of woman who might miss the bright lights and excitement of London.’

Peggy shook her head. ‘The only bright lights in London are the fires consuming the East End and the searchlights following the pom-pom bursts. Ethel strikes me as a down-to-earth, no-nonsense sort of woman and far from flighty, despite the overblown hat. I think she’s shrewd enough to realise what a wonderful chance she’s being offered, and I’m sure she’ll settle down to her new life in your sister’s bungalow with great gusto.’ She grinned at Cordelia. ‘That’s if the pair of them survive the ride up to Mafeking Terrace in Rita’s borrowed motorcycle and sidecar.’

Cordelia chuckled. ‘They’re braver than me, and that’s a fact. You wouldn’t catch me gadding about in such a thing.’