The Clippie Girls (17 page)

Terry pulled a face. ‘That was just before I met Peggy, Ma.’

‘Oh, Peggy, is it?’

‘Yes, and it was never serious with Sylvia. We’ve grown up together. She’s more like another sister.’

‘Amy’s not going to like it,’ Edith said. Terry’s younger sister, Amy, was Sylvia’s best friend. ‘She’s always dreamed of you two getting married and her being bridesmaid.’

‘Well, it’s not going to happen, Ma. Me and Sylvia are just mates. Why, I’ve never even kissed the girl.’

‘Yes, you have. In a game of postman’s knock last Christmas.’

‘That doesn’t count.’

‘It did to Sylvia.’

‘And have you kissed this Peggy yet?’ his father asked bluntly.

Terry grinned. ‘Not yet, but I intend to before this leave’s over.’

‘Then you’d best hurry up,’ Harry chuckled, not taking any of this romantic nonsense seriously. ‘You’ve only got another twenty-nine hours of your leave left.’

Terry was stationed in North Yorkshire and could get home relatively easily on a short leave, especially when he told the odd white lie. And hitching lifts was easy for a soldier in uniform. He was luckier than many of his fellow soldiers and he knew it. But they all expected to be posted somewhere else before long, possibly abroad. He wasn’t going to think about that now; today he was going to see his girl and he vowed to himself that before he left her, this very day, she would know how much she meant to him.

‘What’s she like?’ Despite her disappointment over Sylvia, Edith was curious. The neighbours – the Prices and the Thomases – had been friends for years and Edith wasn’t sure how her friend, Mabel, was going to take this news. Mabel Thomas was a big woman in every way: in build, in heart and in laughter, but she was a devil when crossed. Edith shuddered. She didn’t want to have to be the one to tell Mabel that Terry was seeing another girl.

Terry turned from the mirror. ‘She’s very pretty, Ma. Curly brown hair and lovely, soft brown eyes that melt your heart, and when she smiles she has dimples in her cheeks.’ He pointed at his own cheeks to demonstrate.

Edith stared at him. He could remember everything about this girl in fine detail. He must be smitten. Her heart dropped as she thought of Mabel next door. ‘Where did you meet her?’

‘On a tram. I was going into town when the tram was caught in a bomb blast.’

Edith gasped and put her hand to her breast. ‘Not the night of the blitz?’

‘Aye, the Thursday night.’ Terry spread his hands. ‘But, as you can see, not a scratch.’ His eyes darkened as he recalled the sights he’d seen that night and just afterwards. He was glad his parents and sister had been safe in the Anderson shelter they shared with the Thomases.

‘Luck of the Devil, you’ve got,’ Harry muttered. He was pretending to read his newspaper, but in fact he was listening to every word. He was mates with Percy, Mabel’s husband, but now Harry was beginning to see just how this might affect their two families.

‘I helped Peggy get the passengers out first and then I helped her. She’d got a cut on her forehead.’ He touched his own hairline.

‘Why did you need to help the passengers? Didn’t the rescue people come?’

‘She was the clippie, see, and her first duty – even before her own safety – was the care of her passengers. That’s the sort of girl she is, Ma,’ he added softly and neither his mother nor his father could miss the admiration in their son’s tone. They glanced at one another, but said no more as he bade them goodbye and left. But once he was out of earshot, Harry shook his paper and muttered, ‘Oh dear, Ma, I reckon we’re going to have problems.’

Edith bent her head over her mending once more, wondering how she could avoid bumping into Mabel for the next couple of days until Terry was safely back at camp.

Terry knocked on the door, wanting to hammer on it in his impatience, but knowing that wouldn’t go down well with the older generations. He smiled. It was a strange household and no mistake. He’d never encountered anything quite like it before. All these women of different ages and not a man to be seen. Still, perhaps it was just as well. He could charm most women of any age, but a man might be very different. Though he was wary of Rose. She wasn’t backwards at coming forwards, as the saying went.

Peggy opened the door and there was no mistaking the pleasure in her eyes and in her smile, nor the pink that tinged her cheeks. ‘Oh! Hello. What brings you here?’

‘You, of course,’ Terry said, removing his trilby and giving her a courteous little bow. ‘I came to see how you are. I’m sorry I haven’t brought you any flowers. There don’t seem to be many about. There’s a war on, you know.’

Peggy laughed. ‘Yes, I had heard.’

‘Aren’t you going to ask me in or has Rose forbidden it?’

Peggy pulled the door open wider. ‘Don’t be silly. Rose has nothing to do with who I see.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ he said, as he stepped over the threshold. ‘Are they all at home?’

‘No – no, only me and Gran.’

Terry was relieved: he was sure he could charm the old lady.

‘So,’ he asked again as Peggy led him through to the living room, ‘how are you?’

‘Much better. I’m going back to work tomorrow.’

‘And Bob?’ He felt compelled to ask and held his breath until she answered.

‘Doing well. He’s out of hospital, but he’s not going to be allowed back to work for a while yet. They’ve got to be sure he doesn’t get dizzy spells.’ She laughed wryly. ‘It wouldn’t do while you’re driving a tram.’

Terry smiled as he stepped into the room, his glance going at once to the old lady in the chair by the fire. She was partially hidden behind the newspaper she was reading, but, at the sound of someone entering the room, without looking up she said, ‘The Australians have entered Tobruk.’ She chuckled. ‘There was no Union Jack available so they ran a bush hat up the flagpole. I like their style.’ As she looked up to see who had come in, to Terry’s relief, she smiled. ‘Here again?’

He gave her a conspiratorial wink. ‘Just passing, you know, and thought I’d look in.’

Grace smiled back. He didn’t fool her for a moment and the young man knew it too.

‘Are you all OK?’ he asked. ‘Mum said there’d been one or two more bombing incidents.’

‘Just a couple since Christmas. No one killed as far as I know,’ Grace said.

Terry turned to Peggy. ‘I wondered if you feel well enough to come to the pictures with me?’

‘Oh – I don’t know if I should. I’m still officially on the sick list.’

‘Surely no one would mind? Besides, it’d be a bit of a test to see if you’re really fit enough to go back to work. Though what they’ll find for you to do, I don’t know.’

Oh, he’s clever, Grace thought. She’d give him that. She lowered her glance, pretending to concentrate on her paper again.

‘They’ve repaired a lot of the track already,’ Peggy was saying. ‘Several of the routes are running again. The system’s steadily getting back to normal, though some of the repairs to track and overhead cables are taking longer than others.’

They both stared at each other remembering their shared experience of that dreadful night. ‘So?’ He smiled, changing the subject and trying to divert her thoughts away from terrifying memories. ‘Are we going?’

‘Yes, all right,’ Peggy said. ‘I’ll just get ready. If I’m quick, we should catch the first house.’

As she hurried upstairs to change, Terry sat down on the opposite side of the fire to Grace. He was about to start a conversation with her, but at that moment the back door opened and Myrtle called out, ‘I’m home, Gran.’

Terry’s heart sank. He’d hoped they’d get away before any other members of the family arrived home. But he thought the schoolgirl wasn’t much of a challenge, just so long as Rose wasn’t with her.

Myrtle came into the room. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when she saw him. She nodded curtly in greeting and then turned to her grandmother. ‘I got all the shopping, Gran, but the meat’s a bit pathetic. Scrag end. It’s all I could get.’

‘It’ll do, love. Your mam’s getting to be a dab hand at making a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.’

At that moment Peggy ran lightly down the stairs and entered the living room. Myrtle’s eyebrows reached her fringe this time as she saw that her sister was dressed for an evening out. She smirked as she asked pointedly, ‘Going to see Bob, are you?’

Peggy flushed as she stammered, ‘No, no, I – we’re going to the pictures.’ Her blush deepened as she saw Myrtle’s disapproving glance go from her face to Terry’s and back again. Then the younger girl shrugged and turned away, but not before Peggy had seen the gleam in her eyes. Peggy shuddered as she realized that the moment Rose stepped through the door, she’d hear about Peggy going out with the soldier.

And no doubt, not long after that, Bob would know too.

Twenty-One

‘She’s gone out with
him
.’

Rose closed the door, pulled the blackout curtain across it, switched on the hall light and turned to face her young sister. ‘Give us a chance to get in the house, our Myrtle. What are you on about?’

‘Him. Terry What’s-his-name. Peggy’s gone to the pictures with him.’

Rose stared at her for a moment before saying tartly, ‘Has she indeed? We’ll have to see about that, then, won’t we, Myrtle?’ And Myrtle smirked.

‘Do Gran and Mam know?’

‘Mam’s not home till eight, but Gran knows.’

‘And?’

Myrtle shrugged. ‘She doesn’t seem bothered.’

Rose snorted and marched into the kitchen. ‘’Lo, Gran. You all right?’

‘Fine. Your tea’s all ready. Keeping hot in the oven.’

‘Thanks.’ There was a slight pause before Rose added, ‘What’s this about Peggy going to the pictures with the soldier?’

Grace glanced up. There was no mistaking the belligerence in Rose’s tone. Grace raised her eyebrows. ‘No harm in it, is there? He seems like a nice lad.’

‘No harm in it, you say? ’Course there’s harm in it, Gran. Or could be. She’s supposed to be Bob’s girl. What if he finds out?’

Grace eyed her granddaughter over her steel-rimmed spectacles. ‘He’s unlikely to – unless, of course, you tell him.’

Rose reddened. It had been in her mind to do just that, but now she said lamely, ‘Someone from work might see them and tell him.’

‘They easily might,’ Grace said. ‘But not many of them would run tittle-tattling to Bob, especially – ’ she added pointedly – ‘whilst he’s still recovering from the accident. Leave it be, Rose, there’s a good lass. Things have a habit of working themselves out for the best without any meddling from others.’

Her tea forgotten, Rose sat down slowly in the chair opposite her grandmother, while Myrtle stood near the table, listening intently. She kept quiet. For once, it seemed, she might be privy to a family discussion instead of being sent out of the room. If she just kept quiet, the other two seemed to have forgotten about her.

‘So he’s charmed you an’ all, has he?’ Rose said softly.

Grace shook her newspaper. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Rose. Get your tea else it’ll be dried to a cinder.’ She glanced up. ‘Myrtle . . .’

The girl held her breath. Here it came; Myrtle, go to your room. But instead, Grace said, ‘Get your sister’s tea out of the oven.’

Myrtle scuttled to do as she was asked, but left the door between the living room and the kitchen open so that she could still hear what was being said.

‘You know very well what I’m talking about, Gran,’ Rose spat.

Grace frowned. ‘Don’t take that tone with me, my girl. This is my house and I’ll say who comes into it and who doesn’t.’

‘And don’t we know it,’ Rose muttered.

‘What did you say?’ The two women, two generations apart, glared at each other, neither willing to back down.

Rose was heartily sick of having the fact that they were living in this house by Grace’s charity rammed down their throats. They were never allowed to forget that they owed the roof over their heads to her. And in her turn Grace had often longed to have her home to herself. But now they both knew they were trapped in a situation that was unlikely to alter. And they both knew the reason, though it would never be voiced aloud.

Grace was getting old. Whilst she was still active and well able to care for herself at the moment, now was not a good time for the family to leave and seek a place of their own, even though, with three wages coming into the house, they could probably afford to do so. Besides, both Rose and Grace were thinking exactly the same thought: Mary would never hear of such a thing.

Rose was the first to drop her gaze. ‘Nothing, Gran.’

Grace pursed her lips and said no more, though she’d heard what her ungrateful granddaughter had said. There was nothing wrong with her hearing, even if they all thought she was in her dotage.

Myrtle came back into the room, carrying the hot plate carefully. She set it on the table. ‘Come and get it, Rose, while it’s still hot.’

With a sigh, Rose got up. ‘Well, I think it’s wrong anyway. And I shall tell our Peggy so when she gets home.’

Grace laughed wryly. ‘I’ve no doubt you will. But just remember, Peggy’s of age. She’s twenty-two next month. She can do what she likes and none of us can stop her.’

There was a pause before Rose said slyly, ‘But like you’ve just said, Gran. This is your house and you could stop him coming here –
if
you wanted to.’

‘But I don’t.’

‘So – what about Bob?’

‘Ah, so now we’re coming to it. Just tell me something, Rose. Is it your sister you’re concerned about? Or Bob?’

Rose, her knife and fork suspended momentarily in midair, stared at her grandmother for a long moment. Then, without answering, she bent her head and began to pick at the meal in front of her.

All of her sudden, her appetite had deserted her.

When Myrtle realized that the conversation was at an end – for the moment – she went up to her bedroom to start her homework. But half an hour later, when she heard the front door open and close and knew her mother had come home, she slipped quietly down the stairs and sidled into the room, trying hard not to be noticed.

‘Did you know?’ Rose demanded before her mother had taken off her coat and hung it on the clothes pegs in the hall.