Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (10 page)

Stan, the stationmaster, had told her that Ivy wasn’t very happy at Doris’s now that Mary had returned home to Sussex. The new girl billeted there was from Chelsea or somewhere posh, and worked as a private secretary for the administrator at the hospital. According to Stan, who kept a close eye on everything that happened in Cliffehaven, this Caroline really thought a lot of herself, and to Ivy’s dismay had toadied up to Doris something shocking. Now the pair of them had ganged up on her and made it clear she was only there under sufferance.

With the decision made to approach Ivy, Peggy felt a little better. She finally reached the counter. ‘Good morning, Alf,’ she said with determined cheerfulness. ‘What delights are on offer today, then?’

His large, ruddy face looked doleful as his gaze swept down the waiting queue of housewives. ‘Scrag end, offal, a bit of minced meat. Sorry, Peg.’

‘I’ll take as much as you can give me.’ Peggy put her ration book on the counter and began to count out her money. Running the boarding house meant she received special food stamps – more than the average household – but even this largesse was barely enough to provide everyone with a decent plateful of food.

Alf weighed the unappetising-looking meat, and with sleight of hand that would have put a master magician to shame, conjured up three sausages which were wrapped in the blink of an eye with the rest. He winked as he took the stamps and money. ‘Tell Ron the boys are meeting this Sunday,’ he murmured, all too aware of those listening in the queue.

Peggy experienced a thrill of pleasure and nodded. Having stuffed the parcel at the foot of the pram, she pushed her way out of the shop, carefully avoiding the ever-watchful and suspicious gazes of the other women. Alf’s cryptic message meant only one thing. A pig would be slaughtered early Sunday – one that hadn’t been counted in by the food inspectors – and as Ron paid in each week to help feed and fatten the beast, he’d be in line for some of its meat.

With her spirits soaring at the thought of pork chops, Peggy’s next stop was at the bakery where there was no queue. Bread wasn’t rationed and as no one liked the wheatmeal loaf the government insisted they ate to conserve the stocks of white flour, people were in no hurry to buy it. With four loaves tucked into the basket beneath the pram, Peggy continued on to the hardware shop where she managed to get a light bulb, some candles, a can of paraffin and several boxes of matches. It seemed these too were in short supply and she came out with half of what she actually needed. Then it was on to the tobacconist’s where she actually managed to get two packets of Park Drive, which was a real treat, and a couple of colouring books which she would send to Doreen’s little girls, Joyce and Evie.

There were numerous stops on the way to the Home and Colonial stores, for Peggy knew so many people who, unlike her, seemed to have the time to chat. As each of them sang Ron’s praises and asked after Harvey she felt even better, and by the time she’d parked the pram outside the large general store, she was back to her old cheerful self.

Doris’s husband Ted was looking resplendent in his pristine white coat as he stood behind the sadly depleted dairy counter and kept an eye on his staff. His decision to remain in the flat upstairs seemed to agree with him, for his usual, rather solemn expression had been replaced by a broad smile. ‘Good morning, Peggy. And how are you?’

‘Very well, considering,’ she replied. ‘And you look cheerful this morning too. How are things?’

He grinned back at her as he took her shopping list. ‘I’m more content than I ever was. Master of all I survey and free to do as I like,’ he replied. ‘I should have left years ago.’

Peggy felt a twinge of pity for her sister, but it didn’t last, for Doris had virtually forced him out of the house with her bossiness and lack of respect and care. ‘So there’s no chance of you going back to her then?’

He shook his head and carefully weighed out the few ounces of cheese she was permitted. ‘Things would have to change radically, and I don’t think that’s likely, do you?’

Peggy didn’t. ‘Have you heard from Anthony and Suzy lately?’

‘I saw Suzy the other day when she popped in for some shopping after her shift at the hospital, and Anthony has telephoned his mother. But they’re still at the honeymoon stage, so I doubt we’ll see much of them for a while.’

‘It’s not just their honeymoon keeping them occupied,’ she said. ‘They’re both so busy with doing up that cottage and fulfilling their work commitments, I doubt they have time for anything else.’

Ted wrapped the cheese and placed it beside the pat of margarine and the tiny knob of real butter. ‘I’m sorry I can’t give you more, but you know what it’s like,’ he said ruefully.

She did indeed, but there was little point in moaning about it. Everyone was in the same boat.

Ted added the tins of Spam and corned beef, and with a wink, handed over a tin of peas. ‘These came in yesterday, so I put one by for you.’

‘Thanks, Ted, you’re a diamond.’ She hastily stowed everything away in her string bag and handed over the stamps and the money. ‘And please come and visit whenever you want. You’re still family, after all, and Ron could do with a bit of male company now the house is full of women.’

His smile was soft with affection. ‘Thanks, Peg. I just might do that. But you’re not to worry about me. I’m very content with my own company when I’m not playing golf, and I enjoy listening to my records and reading all the books I should have read long ago.’

‘You play golf at the same club as Bertie Grantley-Adams, don’t you?’ At his nod, she continued, ‘How do you find him?’

He looked rather puzzled by her question. ‘He’s a pleasant chap, and jolly good company.’ He regarded her steadily. ‘He’s been escorting your Cordelia about lately, hasn’t he?’

‘Well, yes, and I’ve heard rumours that he’s a bit of a ladies’ man.’

‘The women like him, certainly, and he’s never made a secret of the fact. But I’m sure his intentions towards Cordelia are honourable.’

Peggy laughed. ‘I should jolly well hope so at his age. Good heavens.’

‘I didn’t mean that sort of honourable,’ he blustered. ‘I meant that he’s a well-set-up sort of chap, with a nice house and a good pension. He’s not after Cordelia’s money, if that’s what’s worrying you.’

It had rather, but she wasn’t going to tell Ted that. She said goodbye and headed home. There was a lot to do before she had to get to the Town Hall for her afternoon shift with the WVS.

Doreen gripped Archie’s sturdy arm and tried to keep up with him as they picked their way through the rubble in the blackout. Her mind was full of warm memories of the hours they’d spent in that hotel bedroom, and yet her bubble of happiness slowly deflated as they neared the station, for these would be the last few precious hours they would spend together until he was home on leave again. The week had passed so quickly; it didn’t seem possible that before the night was out his ship would set sail and she would be heading back to Kent.

‘I don’t know about you, Doreen, but I’m starving,’ he boomed as they came to an eel and pie shop. He looked down at her, his blue eyes twinkling with merriment as he made no effort to lower his voice. ‘It must be all that exercise we’ve had today.’

Doreen blushed and giggled as she swiftly glanced round to see if anyone had overheard him. ‘Shh, you. I don’t want half of London to hear what we’ve been up to.’

He dropped his kitbag and enfolded her in his arms, lifting her from the cracks and potholes in the pavement so he could plant a soft kiss on her lips. ‘I don’t care if the whole world knows how much I love you,’ he murmured before gently setting her back on her feet and lightly smacking her bottom. ‘Come on, girl, time you had a proper East End supper.’

Doreen reluctantly followed him into the empty café. Blackout covered the window and the glass in the door, but the light was bright inside. Jellied eels were laid out in dishes, pies were being kept warm above the fryer, a great pot of mushy peas was simmering on a gas ring, and the delicious smell of vinegar and fried potato made her mouth water. ‘I’ll just have chips,’ she said.

He eyed her with amusement, his gaze travelling from her dark, curly hair, over her slender body and down to the sensible shoes, scuffed from walking the streets of the East End. ‘I’ll keep an eye on your figure, never you mind. At least have a pie and peas with the chips. You can’t visit this neck of the woods without giving it a go.’

‘What’s in the pie?’

The woman behind the counter seemed to take offence at this and glared back at her. ‘Spam and spud. There is a war, on yer know.’

Doreen stuck with chips while Archie ordered just about everything on offer, and the woman winked at him before fishing out a bottle of beer from under the counter. ‘I always keep some by for our boys,’ she said, plonking it on the counter. ‘On the ’ouse, love.’ She tapped the side of her nose with a grubby finger.

Doreen would have liked a beer, but it seemed she was not to be included in this generosity, so she asked for a cup of tea. When their food was ready, they carried the plates to a nearby table and sat down. She shuddered as she eyed the slimy jellied eel mounded on Archie’s plate next to the suspiciously green mushy peas, the pie and the pile of fat, greasy chips. She honestly didn’t know how he could eat such a very odd concoction.

He seemed oblivious to her sensibilities and ate his way methodically through his food while she nibbled on her rather soggy chips. He finally wiped the plate clean with a slab of unbuttered wheatmeal bread and sat back. ‘That’s better,’ he sighed. ‘We don’t get food half as good on board ship.’

‘We certainly don’t get eel and pie in Halstead,’ she replied, giving up on the unappetising chips.

‘That’s because they’re all soft in Kent – don’t have the stomach for decent food.’

She realised there was no point in arguing about it. Archie was a Cockney through and through, so nothing she could say would change his mind. She took a sip of tea and almost gagged. It was so stewed and strong it had the consistency of engine oil.

His laughter was loud and seemed to fill the tiny café. ‘That’s proper East End tea, my girl. Put hairs on your chest, that will.’

Doreen blushed and dipped her chin as she realised their exchange was being eagerly listened to by the woman behind the counter. ‘It’s all very well for you,’ she hissed across the table. ‘You’re used to it.’

His expression became more serious as he reached across the table, his large hands engulfing her fingers. ‘I’m sorry, Dor. I know it’s not fair to tease you, but if you and me are going to have some sort of future together, you’re going to have to learn to like eels and pie, and tea so strong you can stand a spoon up in it.’

Her heart began to thud as she looked into his tanned face and saw her reflection in his eyes. She loved him so much, and if the price of being with him for the rest of their lives was to eat eels every day, then she would make herself like them. And yet all this talk of being together wasn’t exactly a proposal, so there was no point in getting ahead of herself. She decided it would be better to keep things on a lighter note.

‘You can certainly take the boy out of the East End, but you can’t take the East End out of the boy – no matter how big and grown-up he is,’ she teased.

‘It’s who I am,’ he said simply. ‘This is where I was born and where I grew up. I might be all of a swagger in this uniform, but underneath beats the heart of a true Cockney.’

Doreen was well aware of the tough childhood he’d had growing up in this part of London, and how hard he’d strived to escape the endless poverty and hardship through his naval apprenticeship, which had offered a good career. ‘It wasn’t all pie and eels, Archie,’ she murmured, ‘and things are even worse now the Luftwaffe has virtually flattened this part of London.’

He nodded solemnly then leaned back in his chair and drained the bottle of beer. ‘I’m well aware of that, love. The old place is barely recognisable now.’ He placed the bottle on the table and his smile was sad. ‘But the spirit’s still here, Doreen. Jerry will never destroy that, no matter what they do to us.’

Doreen realised that although his words were brave, he was still fretting over his parents’ whereabouts. His search for them had come to nothing more than rumours and snatches of half-remembered sightings. It seemed they’d been bombed out twice in Shoreditch, and had managed to find temporary accommodation here in Bethnal Green. Yet that too had been so badly damaged in an air raid that it was deemed uninhabitable, and no one seemed to know where they’d gone after that – or even if they were still alive. It was an awful situation, and her heart went out to him.

‘I’m sure the Red Cross or the Salvation Army people will track them down,’ she said quietly. ‘You mustn’t give up hope.’

‘I don’t like leaving without knowing,’ he rumbled. ‘But I’ve no choice.’

‘I’ve left my address with the different agencies, so if there is word, I can pass it on to you.’ She rested her hand on his, wishing she could do more to help.

He took a deep breath and his mood lightened as he gently chucked her under the chin. ‘No news is good news, as they say. If they were killed they’d be on some register somewhere. I expect they’ve gone to Wales to be with my sister and her brood.’

Doreen nodded but she wasn’t convinced, for surely if they had gone to Wales, they would have written to him by now? She could see that he was thinking the same thing, but neither of them wanted to voice their doubts, for that would only make them seem more concrete.

He pushed back from the table and settled his peaked hat on his head before shooting her a beaming smile. ‘Come on, girl. Let’s take a stroll in Victoria Park. There’s another half-hour before my train leaves and it would be a shame to waste it.’

Doreen smiled her thanks at the woman behind the counter and hurried outside, and Archie swiftly closed the door behind them: the ARP wardens were quick to spot a light in the blackout.

Archie hauled the kitbag over his shoulder and slipped his free arm about Doreen, holding her close to his side. They walked slowly down the street, guided only by a pale moon which appeared occasionally between the scudding clouds that promised yet more rain. It had been a gloomy day which they’d managed to escape by being tucked up snugly in bed together, and now, as the time for him to leave approached, it seemed to Doreen that the weather mirrored her mood exactly.