Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (14 page)

Peggy smiled back and surreptitiously moved the glass out of the older woman’s reach. The music came to an end and the old walls of the Anchor shook as people stamped their feet, applauded and roared for more.

Fran carefully laid her violin on the table and sank down next to Peggy as the others joined them. ‘Let someone else take over for a while,’ she said after downing some of her glass of cider. ‘To be sure, I’m exhausted.’

‘You’ve done very well, dear,’ said Cordelia. ‘Jane’s having a lovely send-off.’ She frowned. ‘Where’s my glass of sherry gone?’

‘I’ll get you another in a minute,’ said Peggy hurriedly. ‘It’s a bit busy at the bar.’ She ignored Cordelia’s baleful glare and admired the girls, who were all looking very pretty in their best skirts, blouses and sweaters. They’d made a real effort to give Jane a good party, and she was so proud of them all – but she would miss quiet little Jane, and that was a fact.

As the music began again Peggy decided she would ask Rosie if it was all right to go up and make herself and Cordelia a cup of tea. If Cordelia drank any more sherry she’d slide out of her chair and end up under the table – and that would be most embarrassing for all concerned.

She’d just reached the bar when she heard someone call her name. Turning, she saw a large man approaching, dressed in the uniform of the Royal Engineers. ‘Yes?’

He grinned and pulled off his beret. ‘Hello, Peggy. I tried the house and guessed you must all be in here.’

Peggy frowned, for although there was something about him that was vaguely familiar, she couldn’t place him at all. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said hesitantly, ‘but I don’t …’

His smile widened and he stepped closer. ‘I know I’ve been away a while, but I didn’t think I’d changed that much,’ he said wryly. ‘It’s Jack Smith.’

‘Oh, my goodness,’ she breathed. ‘Of course it is.’ She flung her arms round him to give him a hug before she stood back to look at him properly. Jack Smith had always been a sturdy sort of man, but he’d filled out in the three years since he’d left Cliffehaven. His light brown hair had been cut brutally short by the army barber, but there was still a twinkle in his nut-brown eyes and the ruddy glow of good health in his face. The Army had clearly been the making of him.

‘Is she here?’ he asked.

Peggy nodded in delight and pointed towards the table by the fireplace where the girls were in a giggling huddle with Cordelia and a rather bemused Bertram.

He put a finger to his lips and winked. ‘Don’t let on, Peg. I want it to be a surprise.’

Peggy nodded and followed him to the table.

‘Hello, love. Remember me?’ he said.

Everyone looked up and Rita gasped, shot out of her chair and flung herself into his arms. ‘Dad! Oh, Dad,’ she screeched.

Jack Smith roared with laughter, picked her up and swung her round as she clung to his neck and smothered his face in kisses. Then he set her back on her feet and looked down at her in amazement. ‘You’ve grown,’ he breathed.

She laughed and poked him in the stomach. ‘So have you,’ she teased. ‘The Army has obviously been feeding you too well.’ She hugged him again, the top of her head just reaching the insignia on his breast pocket. ‘It’s so good to see you, Dad,’ she said as the tears welled up. ‘But why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’

‘I didn’t know myself until yesterday, so I thought I’d surprise you.’ He looked down at her fondly. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t come before this, but with only a day off here and there, there hasn’t been time to make the long journey south.’

‘It’s good to see you again, Jack,’ said Ron as he shook his hand and placed a pint of beer on the table for him. ‘And you’ve no need to worry about your wee girl. She’s safe with us, so she is.’

‘I can see that.’ He regarded his daughter with pride. ‘My Rita’s grown into a beautiful young woman,’ he murmured, ‘and looks more like her mother than ever before.’ He kissed the top of her head and drew her close. ‘Although I’m glad to see she’s no longer dressing like a boy.’

‘Oh, Dad,’ she replied with a nudge of her elbow. ‘I’m dressed for a party. I can’t swan about like this every day. Those boots and trousers are comfortable and practical.’

He laughed. ‘Have you still got the Norton we built together?’

‘Of course,’ she replied. ‘I’ve had to make one or two adjustments to her, but she’s back at Beach View under a tarpaulin. Do you want to go and see her?’

‘Morning will be soon enough.’

Rita introduced him to everyone and explained the reason behind the party. ‘How long are you staying, Dad?’ Her tone was wistful.

‘Only three days,’ he replied regretfully. ‘So you’ll have to tell me everything you’ve been up to, show me the cycle race track you’ve rescued and perhaps even go and look at what Jerry has done to our old place.’

‘There’s nothing left of it, Dad. Which isn’t a bad thing. Those houses weren’t fit to live in anyway, you know that.’

He nodded. ‘And what about the Minelli family? Have you heard from them lately?’

‘Not since Roberto got married and Louise went north to be with him and his father. They’re still interned and working on the farm, and I doubt that will change unless the Italians decide to change sides in the war.’

Peggy had little time for Louise Minelli after the way she’d treated Rita during those awful months when Roberto and Antonino had been interned, their home had been bombed and Rita had been at her wits’ end to cope with the woman’s histrionics. ‘Where are you staying, Jack?’

‘At the Crown, so I’m not far away.’ He turned back to his daughter. ‘Is there any chance you can take some leave from the fire station while I’m here?’

‘I’ll ask John – he’s over there with the rest of the fire crew. I’m sure he’ll agree – after all, it’s been three years since you were last home, Dad.’

Peggy heard the gentle reprimand in Rita’s voice. As she looked from father to daughter, she realised they needed time together after such a long separation. ‘Why don’t you go back to the house where you can talk in private?’

‘Thanks for the offer, Peg, but I’m quite happy here, and I’ve been looking forward to buying my daughter a drink now she’s old enough to have one. In fact, it’s drinks all round,’ he said with a beaming smile.

‘I’ll have a sherry,’ piped up Cordelia.

Rita was beaming with pleasure as she slipped her hand through the crook of his arm and grinned up at him. ‘Lead on, Dad.’

Peggy watched them head for the bar, where Rosie was quick to serve them. It was lovely to see Jack again, and Peggy knew how much this surprise visit had meant to little Rita, so she wasn’t about to spoil the evening by giving Jack Smith a good piece of her mind.

He’d been away for three whole years, in which time Rita had had more than her fair share of disasters, but his letters had been few and far between, and there hadn’t been a single telephone call that she could remember. Peggy knew how deeply this had affected Rita, and although the girl had made light of it, and it was clear that he adored her, there really was no excuse for Jack’s neglectful treatment of his daughter.

Mercifully, there had been no sirens during the night, but still Doreen’s sleep was fractured and restless, her dreams full of the horrors of that tunnel and Archie’s sightless eyes filling with rain. She’d woken several times, rearing up in bed, gasping for breath, heart hammering in the certainty that a crushing weight was bearing down on her chest. Sweat soaked through her clothing and dampened her hair, and by the time the first chinks of daylight began to show round the blackout curtains she was exhausted, and a terrible headache was lurking behind her eyes.

She looked round the room to discover that most people were still asleep, huddled beneath the blankets, their meagre belongings piled beside them. Slipping out of bed, she noted wryly that her overnight bag had indeed been filched. She fished her handbag from beneath the pillow and weaved her way round the beds and baggage, dragging Archie’s heavy kitbag behind her. The washroom and lavatories were deserted, and once she’d had a good wash and changed her underwear, she felt marginally more ready to face what she knew would be an awful day.

She pushed through the heavy doors into the canteen to be greeted by the smell of burnt toast, reheated dried egg, and frying Spam. Leaving the kitbag at a nearby table, she eyed what was on offer and decided she wasn’t hungry, but could murder a very large cup of tea. She dropped a few pennies into the donation jar and then sat down to savour the hot mug of strong tea and a morning cigarette.

As people started to drift in from the other room, Doreen fished in her coat pocket for the card the policeman had given her the previous night. The address of the undertaker’s meant nothing to her, for she was unfamiliar with Bethnal Green, but someone was bound to be able to point her in the right direction. She just hoped it wasn’t too far away, for Archie’s kitbag was cumbersome and she’d damage it by dragging it everywhere.

After she’d finished the cigarette and tea, Doreen went back into the main hall to get directions from the woman in charge, then she signed out. Walker and Stroud’s premises were about a mile away, so she’d have to put Archie’s kitbag in left luggage at the station and pick it up later.

It was still early, and the weak sun was struggling to break through the thick layer of cloud that hung over London, but the air was cold and surprisingly fresh, which she hoped would dispel the band of pain in her head and help her to concentrate properly on what needed doing.

Passing Victoria Park, she determinedly looked away from the entrance to the underground station – but she’d already caught sight of the workmen who were widening the opening, erecting handrails and painting a white line on each step. It was a classic case of shutting the stable door after the horse had bolted. Just a glimpse of that awful place was enough to bring back the nightmares and make her heart and head pound.

Hurrying beneath the railway arches, she weaved her way around the rubble of collapsed buildings and the workmen dealing with a fractured water main until she came to the undertaker’s.

Walker and Stroud was a dusty building with a high wooden fence and double gates to one side which were firmly secured with a rusting chain and heavy padlock. There was a bank on one side and a cobbler’s on the other, in what proved to be a parade of little shops that hadn’t entirely escaped the bombing. The frontage was painted black and the lettering above the door was in faded gold, while the windows were discreetly covered with net curtains and adorned with a rather depressing arrangement of faded paper flowers.

Doreen took a deep breath before she opened the door and stepped inside. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom she saw a man emerge through the brown velvet curtain hanging behind the large mahogany desk. He was past middle age, tall and very thin, with a long, pale face and sad brown eyes. She approached him warily and told him why she’d come.

His expression was suitably doleful, but he wasn’t obsequious or cloying in his condolences, for which she was very grateful. In fact he seemed to understand it was better to be calm and efficient at times like these. He showed her to a nearby easy chair, and once they’d discussed the sort of service Doreen wanted, a date, time and venue was arranged. Archie would be buried in Bow Cemetery, just as many of the other victims would be, and as Doreen had no idea where that was or how to get to it, Mr Walker wrote down the names of the nearest stations and drew a small street map.

‘I took it upon myself to inform the appropriate authorities of the Chief Engineer’s passing,’ he said in his deep voice. ‘They will of course pay for the service and the interment, and as you have been listed as next of kin, they will be writing to you and sending on his personal effects.’

Doreen’s head was thudding and she was finding it hard to breathe in this musty, dim room that seemed to smell of death and loss.

‘I have taken the liberty of placing his personal effects in a small box,’ he continued, ‘if you wouldn’t mind waiting while I fetch it. Only we don’t like keeping valuables on the premises.’

She waited as he left the room, rubbing her eyes to try and get rid of the flashing lights that were threatening to blind her as the band of pain tightened. She felt simply awful, and wondered fleetingly if she was about to either faint or be sick.

‘Are you all right, miss?’

‘I’ve got a terrible headache,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t suppose you have such a thing as an aspirin?’

‘We have most things here,’ he said with a smile and hurried back behind the curtain to appear moments later with two aspirin and a glass of water. ‘You’re very welcome to sit for a while until you feel a bit better.’

She took the tablets and drained the glass of cold water. ‘That’s very kind, but I’m sure I’ll be fine now.’ She took the box of Archie’s possessions from the table and stood to shake his hand. ‘Thank you again. I’ll see you next week in Bow.’

She felt light-headed and nauseous as she followed him to the door and stepped outside. Breathing deeply of the cold air, she determinedly headed back towards the main-line station, the precious box tucked firmly under her arm. She would have liked to lie down and find sweet oblivion from the pain, but she had the journey back to Fort Halstead to contend with first – followed by an interview with her boss, who was no doubt furious that she was absent without leave.

Despite the very late night and the amount of alcohol that had been consumed, everyone but Jane was downstairs in time for an early breakfast and looking remarkably bright-eyed and bushy-tailed – except for Cordelia, who’d switched off her hearing aid in an attempt to nurse her headache, and Sarah, who was pale and tearful.

Peggy said nothing as Sarah helped her great-aunt to get comfortable at the table and poured her out a cup of tea, but she did place a couple of aspirin by Cordelia’s plate. It was a bit worrying that Cordelia was drinking so much. Perhaps it would be better if she cut down on the socialising – but then, at almost eighty, it didn’t really matter. Life was for living to the full and Cordelia deserved a bit of fun – even if the consequences were a hangover.