Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (20 page)

Peggy smiled fondly at her. ‘Speaking of coats, I like yours. Did you make it?’

Ivy’s dimples flashed as she grinned. ‘With a lot of help from me mate. Doris had thrown it out and left it by the bin, so I thought I’d make use of it.’ Her dark brown eyes were bright with mischief. ‘So, Peggy, what brings you all the way up ’ere? You’re not applyin’ for a job, are you?’

Peggy laughed. ‘I’ve got quite enough to do already without trying to hold down a job. No, I’ve come to ask if you’d like to move into Beach View.’

The brown eyes widened. ‘Really? You mean it?’

‘I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.’

‘Oh, Peggy, that would be blindin’. It’s not the same now Mary’s gone, and I know she’s your sister and all, but Doris is a worse pain in the backside than ever.’

‘In that case you’d better move in straight away,’ said Peggy, biting down on a giggle.

‘What? Today?’ Ivy breathed.

‘No time like the present,’ Peggy said firmly. ‘Come on, let’s face Doris together and get you packed and out of there.’

‘Blimey, you don’t ’alf get a move on when you make yer mind up about somethin’, don’t cha?’ Ivy said happily as they headed down the hill. ‘I were only thinking the other day about calling in to see if you ’ad a place spare.’

‘You should have done,’ said Peggy. ‘I’ve always told you my door is open, Ivy.’

‘Well, yeah, but that were when Mary were ’ere.’

Peggy stopped walking and regarded the girl with some surprise. ‘What difference would that have made?’

Ivy shrugged. ‘Well, she were posh, weren’t she? Like you.’

Peggy roared with laughter. ‘Oh, Ivy, you are a caution. I’m about as posh as a tin kettle – and if you think it makes a ha’p’orth of difference to me if you were born in Bow or Chelsea, then you really don’t know me at all.’

Ivy grinned. ‘Sorry, Peggy. It’s living with Doris – she never stops reminding me of my “place”, as she calls it.’

‘It’s all nonsense,’ retorted Peggy, ‘and I’ll have none of that in my home, believe you me.’

They continued walking down the High Street and then slowed their pace as they turned into the tree-lined road which edged Havelock Gardens. The houses were detached and hidden behind high brick walls and trees, each with a garage and neat front garden, their rear windows overlooking the promenade and the sea. Havelock Road was considered to be the posh part of Cliffehaven, which was why Doris had insisted upon living there when she’d married Ted all those years ago. However, despite its grandeur, it hadn’t escaped the attention of the Luftwaffe, for two of the houses had now been reduced to rubble.

‘Before we go in and face Doris, there is something I need to ask you, Ivy,’ said Peggy as they reached the imposing gateway. She saw the girl frown and hurried to reassure her. ‘It’s nothing serious, but would you mind if you shared with Rita?’

The grubby urchin face lit up in a beaming smile as the dimples danced in her cheeks. ‘Blimey, Peggy, that’s like asking if I wanted a bowl of ice cream. Rita’s a real diamond. ’Course I don’t mind sharing with ’er.’

Peggy laughed and began to push the pram over the shingled driveway. ‘I thought as much.’ She reached the front door and waited for Ivy to slot in her key. Plucking Daisy out of the pram, she balanced her on her hip and followed the girl into the hallway. ‘Doris? Doris, it’s me, Peggy,’ she called.

‘What on earth are
you
doing here?’ said Doris rudely as she emerged from her drawing room. Before Peggy could answer, her gaze fell on Ivy. ‘Take those boots off immediately,’ she ordered. ‘You’ve been told at least a hundred times, but still you persist in disobeying me.’

Ivy grimaced and muttered under her breath as she unlaced the boots and then kicked them off into an untidy heap on the doormat.

‘It’s nice to see you too, Doris,’ said Peggy with some asperity. ‘And I’m here because I thought it only polite to tell you that Ivy will be coming to live with me from now on.’ She turned to Ivy, who was hovering nervously beside her. ‘Go and pack your things, dear. I’ll wait for you down here.’

‘You will stay where you are,’ snapped Doris. She turned her glare on her sister. ‘You can’t just come into my home and start throwing your weight about. I will not stand for it, do you hear?’

Peggy shifted Daisy onto her other hip. ‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t. You do it all the time at mine.’ She took a couple of steps towards Doris. ‘Come on, Doris,’ she coaxed. ‘Loosen your corsets and be nice for once.’

‘Don’t be vulgar.’

Peggy eyed her thoughtfully. ‘What objections do you actually have against Ivy coming to live with me?’

Doris lifted her chin and looked coldly down her nose. ‘The people at the billeting office have charged me with her care. It is them I answer to, not you.’

‘Then it is them she and I will go to and fill in a formal complaint about the way she’s been treated here,’ retorted Peggy, riled by her sister’s attitude.

Doris went pale beneath the carefully applied make-up. ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ she breathed.

‘Wouldn’t I?’ Peggy’s gaze remained steady. ‘You’ve made it plain since the day she arrived that you don’t want her here. So why make a fuss? Afraid you won’t be able to get someone to cook and clean for you and the snooty Caroline? Worried about having to teach someone else how to iron tablecloths and napkins to your high standards?’

‘Servants are impossible to find nowadays,’ said Doris. ‘I thought the girl would be only too pleased to help out by way of thanks for having such a comfortable billet.’

Peggy gave a sharp, derisive laugh. ‘That excuse might wash with the billeting people, but I know you too well, Doris. Ever since you lost your cook and the girl who used to do the rough work, you’ve been looking for replacements. Well, that’s an end to it. She’s coming to live with me.’

‘But that would mean having a room free again, and going through all the ghastly rigmarole of finding someone halfway decent to fill it. Caroline is very particular, you know, and she won’t be happy about this.’

‘I’m sure she’ll get over it,’ said Peggy tartly. She turned to Ivy, who was unsuccessfully trying to stifle her giggles. ‘Go and pack, dear, while I sort out Daisy and have a sit-down.’

‘It’s really not convenient,’ blustered Doris as Peggy headed for the drawing room. ‘I’m due to go to luncheon in half an hour, and Lady Chumley is most particular about timekeeping.’

Peggy sat down on the very edge of the couch, which had been beautifully upholstered in pale blue and cream silk. ‘So, you’ve been accepted into the coven again, have you?’ she murmured as she divested Daisy of her bonnet and mittens and shoved them in her coat pocket. ‘Personally, I think you were better off without them. They never were real friends, you know.’

She put Daisy down on the luxuriously thick Turkish carpet. ‘Don’t let me hold you up, Doris,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’ll make sure everything’s locked up when we leave, and Ivy can put her key on the hall table.’

Doris didn’t budge, but watched like a hawk as Daisy began to totter and crawl about the room. ‘I hope her hands are clean,’ she said sharply as the toddler pulled herself up the edge of the couch to grasp the perfectly plumped cushion.

‘I washed them before we came out.’

‘Oh, no!’ gasped Doris. ‘She’s dribbling on my upholstery.’

Peggy quickly plucked Daisy away from the cushion that she was attempting to chew. Doris’s house had never been child-friendly, even when Anthony had been a baby. She wrinkled her nose at the sour smell emanating from Daisy’s nappy. ‘I need to change her,’ she muttered.

‘Then use the downstairs cloakroom,’ said Doris with a shudder. ‘I can’t possibly allow you to do that in my drawing room.’

Peggy was stifling her giggles as she carried Daisy out to the cloakroom, and once she was all clean and dry, she used the scented soap to wash her hands. Spotting a small bottle of very expensive perfume on the windowsill, she even dared to dab some on her wrists and behind her ears. She might not have been given a warm welcome or even offered a cup of tea, but at least she’d had a tiny touch of the luxury her sister took for granted.

‘Are you almost done, Ivy?’ she called up the stairs.

‘Finished!’ Ivy appeared on the landing with two battered suitcases. She grinned impishly as she came running down the stairs, still in her work dungarees and grubby shirt, her rug coat over her arm. ‘I didn’t realise how much stuff I ’ad.’

‘Most of it is fit only for the rag-and-bone man,’ sniffed Doris.

‘Well, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ retorted Ivy as she shoved her feet back into her boots. ‘After all, you’ve been through my stuff often enough.’

Peggy was appalled. ‘You go through her things?’

There was a flush of colour in Doris’s cheeks. ‘Only to check she’s not hiding food up there. I don’t want to encourage mice.’ She held out her hand to Ivy. ‘My key,’ she said imperiously.

Ivy pulled it out of her dungaree pocket and placed it delicately on Doris’s open palm. ‘Thanks ever so,’ she said. ‘I hope you and Caroline find someone more to yer likin’ and that you’ll all be very happy together.’

‘There’s no need for that sort of sarcasm,’ hissed Doris.

Ivy picked up her cases and turned her back on her. ‘Right, ready when you are, Peggy. Let’s get out of ’ere, shall we?’

Doreen had finally fallen into a deep sleep, drugged by exhaustion and the weight of her grief. When she opened her eyes the following morning she realised that she felt calmer and there was no vestige of that awful headache – and she couldn’t remember having had any disturbing dreams.

She glanced at the clock and saw with some shock that it was past nine, but as Ronnie had said she didn’t need to be in the office until this afternoon, she decided to make the most of this chance to recuperate and rest.

She lay there for a moment, her hand caressing the kitbag as she looked at the blue sky outside the window. It was going to be a fine day, and she could see the birds darting back and forth to their nests on the trees. Soon there would be fledglings, blossoms on the trees and green shoots of spring flowers pushing their way through the soil. Life went on in the endless cycle, heedless of the pain and the loss that was being suffered.

Doreen came to the conclusion that she had to keep busy and not lie about in bed thinking about things and getting maudlin. She felt stronger after her sleep, more determined, and as long as she didn’t allow her mind to wander she’d get through the day somehow. She tossed back the bedclothes, rammed her feet into her slippers and pulled on her dressing gown. The others should be at work by now, and hopefully the elderly owners would have left for the Friday market they always attended.

Once she’d used the bathroom and changed into clean clothes, Doreen placed the kitbag back on the ottoman, pulled out the clothes she’d stuffed in there from her abandoned bag, and made the bed. She studiously ignored the box of Archie’s treasures and sat down at the dressing table to brush out her damp hair.

Ronnie had been right, she realised, for she did look ghastly, with shadows beneath her eyes and in the hollows of her cheeks, her skin having lost the radiance of her earlier happiness. Determined not to dwell on these changes, she carefully applied her make-up and then added a defiant dash of lipstick. As long as she kept up appearances then she could pretend she was all right and so avoid further questioning from Ronnie.

Her stomach rumbled to remind her that she’d eaten nothing since her last meal with Archie – which, she realised in horror, was over forty-eight hours ago. No wonder she’d been suffering from blinding headaches.

She went along the silent hall and into the kitchen. It was a large, old-fashioned room with a scrubbed pine table, quarry-tiled floor, huge black range and a stone sink. Pots, pans and china shared space on the dresser shelves, and an assortment of washing hung from the wooden dryer that was suspended from the ceiling.

It was the heart of the Victorian house, and in happier times, she’d enjoyed sitting in here of an evening and joining in with the other girls’ gossip. In a way, it was a much larger version of the kitchen at home in Beach View, for it was shabby and warm and welcoming, even though the sunlight showed up the cobwebs and the flaking plaster.

She put the kettle on the hotplate and as she waited for it to come to the boil, she went to the huge walk-in larder to see what she could eat. Each of the girls had a shelf in the larder, and hers was sadly depleted. She’d forgotten to buy any food on her return to Halstead, and although there were a couple of eggs, half a packet of digestive biscuits and the last of her packet of tea, there was nothing really substantial for her breakfast.

Having made a pot of weak tea which she’d have to drink without milk or sugar, she picked up the packet of biscuits and went back to her bedroom. She’d have to do some shopping in the village on the way to work, and if Maynard needed her to stay late, then she could always eat supper in the Fort’s canteen.

Sitting at the small table by the window, Doreen sipped her tea and ate her way through the remains of her packet of digestive biscuits. She could hear the lovely song of a thrush as well as pigeons cooing, and the sunlight had brought out the crocuses in splashes of brilliant colour. It was peaceful and quiet after the chaos of London, and she could only pray that it would help her find a way to accept what had happened and learn to cope with it.

The tea and biscuits had been a boost to her spirits, and she took her writing pad from the drawer and began to pen letters to her girls. Evelyn – or Evie, as she preferred – was eight, and Joyce was six. They’d inherited their dark hair and eyes from her side of the family, and their ability to charm from their father – not that he’d been around much. But when he was, Eddie had been entertaining and had spoilt them rotten, often taking their side when she’d tried to instil a bit of discipline into them.

The girls adored him, of course, but they had no idea of how unfaithful he’d been, or how swiftly that charm could switch off when he’d suffered too many losses at the poker tables and Doreen had refused to bail him out for the umpteenth time. She’d lost count of the occasions when he’d raided her purse of the housekeeping money – and of the lonely nights she’d spent wondering where he was and who he was with.