Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (29 page)

‘Doreen always was your favourite, wasn’t she?’

‘She’s a bonny wee girl, so she is, and a grand one to have at your side when faced with Doris.’ He grinned. ‘To be sure there will be ructions ahead, and I’m quite looking forward to a bit of excitement.’

‘I don’t know that she’ll be in the mood for fun and games with you,’ Peggy said. ‘She didn’t tell me what that accident was that killed Archie, but she did let slip that she’d been trapped underground with him somewhere.’

Ron regarded her thoughtfully. ‘It happened in the East End?’

Peggy nodded. ‘There was a small piece about it in the paper, but no real details.’ She regarded him sharply. ‘Do you know something about it, Ron?’

He thought of the conversation he’d had that very morning with his friend, Ken Lowry, who was a stringer for the nationals and part-time reporter on the local rag. He’d remarked about the tragic death toll in the aftermath of the raid on the factory estate, and Ken had quietly told him about the even bigger toll at the tube station in Bethnal Green.

Ken had warned him not to say anything to anyone, for there was a news blackout on that particular tragedy – but surely Peggy had a right to know what had happened to her sister? He played for time by filling his pipe as he wondered just how much to tell her – and then came to the conclusion that Doreen was probably traumatised and would be unable to say very much at all, and that Peggy should be prepared for what lay ahead.

He looked across the table and realised that Peggy was tense and waiting for an answer, so instead of lighting his pipe, he set it aside and held her hands. ‘Aye, I know something of what happened, Peggy. And ’tis a sorry, sorry tale.’

Peggy had paled and her eyes were troubled as she looked back at him. ‘Tell me, Ron.’

‘I know that Doreen is grieving for Archie, the Lord love her, but it’s how he died that she must be finding so very hard to bear,’ he said quietly.

Peggy frowned. ‘But there were no details of what happened, or where. How could you possibly know how Archie died?’

Ron explained about Ken and the government order to block all news on the tragedy except for a blunt statement, and then went on to gently tell her what had happened at Bethnal Green tube station.

‘Dear God,’ she breathed. ‘She must have been petrified, trapped like that in the dark.’ Tears filled her eyes and her voice wavered. ‘Doreen was always terrified of the dark, especially as a child. We had to leave a candle in her room at night, even when she was fifteen or sixteen.’ She stared at their interlocked fingers. ‘It’s a miracle she’s alive with so many others killed – a miracle that she’s still sane.’

‘That’s why you have to bring her home, Peg,’ he said gruffly. ‘She’s experienced something that could affect her for years to come if she isn’t looked after and made to talk about it and rest. I’ve seen it before in the trenches, when men got buried by a shell blast or a tunnel caved in. They seem all right and some can carry on as normal for months, or even years – they bury it deep and try to ignore what happened to them. Then something happens and it triggers them off, leading to all sorts of problems.’

Peggy’s eyes widened. ‘You mean she might go mad because of what happened?’

‘Not if we look after her,’ he soothed. ‘She needs people she loves around her, and the time to accept what’s happened so she can talk about it and get the whole experience out of her system. She’s a strong-minded young woman, Peg, just as all you Dawson girls are. She’ll come through this, you’ll see.’

Peggy nodded. ‘I’ll make certain of it.’

She got up to hunt through the dresser for the train timetable, and Ron lit his pipe and went down into the garden. He had not only witnessed the aftermath of traumatic events, but had also been plagued by them himself. His experiences in the first war had taught him many things about the human mind and how it could shut down to blot out the horrors – and then, without warning, something would happen and the floodgates would open to release all the worst memories and feelings that had been lying in wait just beneath the surface.

He took a deep breath of the salty air and tried to distance himself from the images flashing through his mind. It had happened a long time ago, and the scenes were blurred and distant, but the horrors of the trenches and tunnels where he’d seen so many of his comrades die were with him still. And at night, when he least expected it, the sounds, sights and smells would sometimes thrust him awake, leaving him breathless and terrified in the darkness.

Ron scuffed his boot against a paving slab and kicked out at a dandelion that had dared to poke its head up next to his spring cabbage. He’d told no one of those episodes, and never would. But at least he knew how best to guide Doreen and Ivy through their troubles, and with that thought, he turned back into the house.

The spring sunshine was bright on that Tuesday morning, glinting through the bare branches of the trees surrounding Bow cemetery. Doreen stood stiffly beside Archie’s grave as the vicar ended the service. She’d hardly heard a word of it, for her focus had been on that coffin which was now being slowly lowered into the ground. Her emotions were tightly reined in, but the slow, emotive sound of the Last Post almost broke her and she struggled to maintain her dignity, determined not to let Archie down.

As the last note faded and the rating lowered his bugle and saluted alongside his superior officer, Doreen felt numbed and distanced by all that was happening, as if she was merely a spectator watching herself from afar. And then she felt a soft nudge from Veronica and realised the officer was approaching.

‘Our condolences, Mrs Grey,’ he said as he solemnly handed her the neatly folded naval ensign and then saluted. ‘Chief Engineer Blake was much respected by all. He will be sadly missed.’

Doreen nodded, unable to speak, and he seemed to understand, for he saluted again and then walked away. She remained by the graveside, dimly aware that Archie’s funeral hadn’t been the only one today, and that many of the victims of the Bethnal Green tragedy were being laid to rest here. And yet she’d noticed there was no government representative amongst the mourners and the rescue crews that had attended on that fateful night, and she realised the men in Westminster still wanted the whole episode hushed up.

She looked around the old cemetery where gravestones tilted and lichen smothered the Victorian table tombs and stone angels. Beyond the trees she could see the rooftops and smoking chimneys of Bow where Archie had been born, and hear the rumble of traffic on the streets where he’d played as a boy. ‘At least he’s come home,’ she said brokenly. ‘I hope he’s at peace now.’

Veronica put her arm round her waist. ‘I believe he is,’ she said quietly.

Doreen took a shuddering breath and blinked away the tears. ‘Goodbye, my love.’ She placed a small posy of spring flowers on the mound of earth next to the awful pit. ‘You’ll always be in my heart.’

She stepped back, and with one last sorrowful look, turned away and headed for the gate. Her legs were trembling and her back ached from holding it so stiffly throughout the short service, but she was determined to remain in control at least until she’d returned to the sanctuary of her room.

Veronica seemed to understand her need for quiet contemplation as the train puffed and chugged along the rails towards Knockholt station, and Doreen stared blindly out of the window, not seeing the passing scenery, but thinking of Archie and the last precious days they’d spent together.

They’d made love in that big soft bed in their hotel room – sweet, tender love which had taken her to a joy she’d never experienced before. They’d walked the streets of the city hand in hand; had danced to the big bands which played in the ballrooms; had gone to the cinema and nestled in the back row as Fred and Ginger tap-danced across the screen; and had even managed to get into a matinee at the theatre. They’d filled every minute of the short time they had together, living life to the full and not thinking about tomorrow.

But tomorrow had come and dealt fate’s devastating blow. Now all she had were the memories, and although they were so few in the scheme of things, that made them all the sweeter. Doreen blinked away her tears. She must cling to those memories, think only of the good things she’d shared with him, and then perhaps she could learn to cope with the darker, more disturbing images that haunted her.

‘We’re almost there,’ said Veronica, pulling on her coat. ‘Why don’t you come to my billet and catch your breath for a while? I’ve made sure your work is covered for the rest of the day.’

Doreen dragged herself from her thoughts and looked at her friend. ‘That’s very kind, Ronnie, but I’d rather just go back to my place for a while.’

‘It won’t do you any good being on your own,’ said Veronica. ‘At least come back to mine for a cup of tea or something.’

Doreen shook her head, her gaze falling on the case in the luggage rack. ‘I want to take that home, and you have to be at work. I’ll be fine, really.’

‘You say that, but you won’t. You’ll open that case and see all his things and it will break your heart all over again.’ Veronica took Doreen’s hand. ‘I know how it is, Dor,’ she said softly. ‘I’ve been there, remember?’

Doreen nodded and gripped her hand. ‘Thanks, Ronnie. Thank you for everything. You’ve been the most marvellous friend, and I know how hard it must have been for you today.’

Veronica wordlessly gave her hand an answering squeeze and then got to her feet. Hauling the case down, she set it on the floor between them as the train began to slow and the familiar sidings of the station came into view.

‘Well, I need a cup of tea and something tasty to eat,’ she said firmly, picking up her walking stick. ‘So I propose we go to the Honeysuckle tearooms and see what Mrs Osborne has in the way of cake or scones. My treat, Dor, and I won’t take no for an answer.’

Doreen had no appetite for anything, but her friend had been so loving and kind, it seemed churlish to refuse. She buttoned up her coat and pulled on her gloves, her gaze fixed on Archie’s case, which the officer had given her when they’d met at Bow station. The tears were threatening again and the tight hold she’d had on her emotions was beginning to slip. She grasped the handle and walked along the swaying corridor to stand by the door.

The train pulled in and came to a halt with a great sigh of billowing smoke and steam. Doreen released the broad leather strap to open the window, and then leaned out to turn the handle. She stepped down, helped Ronnie to negotiate the steep drop, and then began to walk through the smoke that rolled along the platform with the light wind.

As the smoke cleared she saw a small figure waiting by the ticket office – a figure that was wonderfully familiar, and very dear. She broke into a run, then dropped the case and flung her arms around her. ‘Oh, Peggy,’ she gasped. ‘How did you know how much I needed you here today?’

Peggy held her tightly. ‘Because you’re my little sister and I’ve always known when you’ve needed me,’ she replied hoarsely. She stood back and cupped her face. ‘I’m here to take you home, Dorry.’

The use of her childhood pet name almost broke through her resolve to stay calm and in control. ‘I can’t. I have work and—’

‘You can and you will,’ Peggy said firmly. ‘I haven’t come all this way to just turn round and go back on my own.’

‘But—’

‘There are no buts about it,’ said Veronica. ‘I’ve already looked into you having two weeks’ leave – on half pay, I might add – so there are no excuses.’ She smiled at Peggy and introduced herself. ‘I’m glad you came, Mrs Reilly. Doreen can be very stubborn at times, but she needs to get away and rest after all she’s been through – and there’s nothing more healing than having one’s family around you, is there?’

‘My thoughts exactly,’ Peggy replied.

Doreen looked at both of them. ‘Why do I get the feeling I don’t have much choice in the matter?’

‘Because you don’t,’ they both replied and then laughed. ‘Come on, Doreen,’ said Veronica, ‘we’ll go and have that cuppa. The next train’s not for an hour.’

‘I can’t just up and leave,’ she protested. ‘What about all my things back at the billet?’

‘I’ve already packed everything,’ said Peggy. ‘Your cases, as well as your bicycle, are quite safe in the left luggage.’

‘But what about Mrs Fletcher? She’ll need to know how long I shall be away, and the rent’s due and—’

‘I’ve had a long chat with Phyllis, and we’ve come to an arrangement,’ said Peggy blithely. ‘She fully understands the situation and has agreed to keep your room vacant for two weeks and then, if you decide to extend your leave, she’ll keep it for a bit longer.’

Doreen knew when she was beaten, but she was also strangely contented to have decisions made for her. She hugged her sister and kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks, Peg,’ she murmured.

They’d returned to the station after their visit to the tearooms, and Veronica had seen them onto their train then stood on the platform waving until they were out of sight. Peggy settled on the seat next to Doreen, the suitcases and bicycle safely stored in the guard’s wagon at the end of the train.

‘Your friend Veronica seems a very nice girl,’ she said as the train picked up speed.

‘Ronnie’s been an absolute brick this last week. I couldn’t have a better friend.’ Doreen fell silent and then changed the subject. ‘I don’t know how you managed to get round the travelling restrictions, let alone organise everything at home to get here,’ she said. ‘But I’m very glad you did.’

Peggy smiled. ‘It was actually quite easy in the end,’ she admitted. ‘Ron is looking after Daisy with help from the others, and our friend Stan at the station filled out all the necessary forms so I could travel outside the twenty-mile zone.’

‘Stan’s still working? But he has to be well past retirement age.’

‘He certainly is, just like Alf the butcher, Fred the Fish and a dozen other men who’ve taken up the reins while this war is on.’ Her smile was warm with affection. ‘Even Ron is doing his bit with the rescue services during the time he has off from the Home Guard. And of course he frequently helps out at the Anchor so he and Rosie can have some time together.’