All My Tomorrows (11 page)

Ruby watched as he trudged away into the darkness, and then swiftly closed the door on the cold, salty wind and examined her accommodation for the night. He probably wasn’t allowed to let people sleep in here and she hoped he wouldn’t get into any trouble, for he’d been so kind.

In the flickering light of the heater, she noticed there were several more blankets piled in a corner, and if she moved some of the suitcases to one side, there would be plenty of room to lie down on the bottom shelf. Having sorted out her bed, she quickly ran through the darkness and found the lav. It was pitch-black and every sound echoed, but the water was hot in the tap and the towel on the roller was clean and dry.

Shivering with cold, but feeling much better after her wash, she raced back to the Nissen hut and shut the door. Not bothering to undress, she lay on the folded blanket, rested her head on another, pulled a third up to her chin and snuggled down. The warmth from the kerosene heater soothed her and she felt snug and cosy and safe for the first time in many months.

She watched the flickering flames dancing behind the wire mesh in the heater until her eyelids began to droop with weariness and all the terrors and tensions of the past few hours drifted away to be lost in deep, comforting sleep.

Chapter Six

Cliffehaven

PEGGY HAD TRIED
to stay awake until all the girls came home, but she’d been so tired that after the nine o’clock news she’d helped Cordelia upstairs to her room, given Daisy her last feed and then gone to bed. She’d been vaguely aware of footsteps crossing the hall and muffled whispers, but was still too deeply asleep to be roused.

She was woken before dawn by the sound of Jane tiptoeing down the stairs and into the kitchen to make her flask of tea to take with her to the dairy. Snuggling back beneath the blankets, she heard the girl leave by the back door and then dozed on and off until Daisy began to grizzle.

She climbed out of bed, pulled on slippers and Jim’s nice thick dressing gown and plucked the fretful Daisy from her cot. Her little cheeks were bright red and she was gnawing at her knuckles. ‘Poor little love,’ she soothed as she carried her into the kitchen, stripped off the sodden nappy and wrapped her in a warm blanket. ‘Those nasty old teeth are coming through, aren’t they?’

Daisy wasn’t to be consoled, even when Harvey came bounding up the steps into the kitchen to see what all the noise was about. He danced on his toes and whined as Peggy bathed Daisy in the sink and then dressed her warmly in the lovely layette the girls had knitted for her. Harvey loved babies, but he also loved porridge, so he sat at Peggy’s feet, nose on her knee, watching every mouthful as she fed some to Daisy.

Peggy smiled and patted his head. ‘You’ll get your breakfast when she’s finished her bottle,’ she soothed.

Ron came stumping up the steps a few minutes later, armed with a small basket of eggs. ‘There’s breakfast in your bowl downstairs, Harvey,’ he said gruffly. ‘Go and eat it and stop pestering Peggy.’

Harvey shot down the steps to the cellar and within seconds they could hear the metal tag on his collar pinging against the tin bowl as he scoffed his food and made horrible slurping noises as he drank some water. Before Ron could make a pot of tea he was back up the steps, his whiskers and beard soaking wet, his tail windmilling with joy.

‘I’ll be taking him out for just a short run this morning,’ said Ron as he warmed the pot and spooned a few tea leaves into it. ‘I managed to get a pot of paint from a mate of mine, so I’ll be spending the morning freshening up Rosie’s sitting room.’

‘I don’t know about Rosie’s sitting room – this place could do with a bit of freshening up,’ Peggy replied without rancour as she eyed the faded paint, the worn woodwork and the rotting window frame. ‘In fact, the whole house could do with a lick of paint and some new wallpaper – it’s looking decidedly shoddy.’

‘Ach, Peggy. That will take a month of Sundays, so it will – and there’s no point in doing anything while Gerry is bombarding us. Better to wait until this war’s over, and then me and Jim will go through the place like a dose of salts.’

Peggy gave a wry smile. It seemed that Ron’s priorities lay beyond the shabby walls of Beach View – as usual. She sighed. One of these days she’d pin him and her husband down and get the jobs done around here, but she knew better than to hold her breath while she waited. They could voice their good intentions most eloquently, but were always far too easily distracted by other, more interesting projects.

‘Before you go, I could do with a few more logs for the fire and some spuds from the garden,’ she said as Daisy finished her bottle. ‘And if Fred’s in his shop, could you get us some fish for tonight?’

‘Aye, I’ll do that. Anything else?’

‘We need more bread, margarine, sugar, flour and salt. I’ll write you a list if you like. It would save me having to queue for half the morning.’

‘Aye. I’ll get the shopping, but only if you promise to sit down and do your knitting instead of rushing about.’

‘I’ve got more important things to do than sit about all day knitting,’ she protested.

‘No knitting, no shopping.’ He eyed her sternly from beneath his brows, his tone brooking no argument.

Peggy thought of all the things she had to do today and was about to protest again when she saw how determined he was to make his point. ‘I’ll sit and knit,’ she said with a sigh of resignation.

‘Aye, see that you do. And while you’re about it, you can make some headway with that milk stout.’

‘It tastes horrid,’ she said with a grimace.

‘If the doctor said you should have it, then there’s a reason, Peggy,’ he said, glowering at her. He took the sleepy Daisy from her arms and carried her across the room to the playpen which was jammed in a corner. Having covered her with a soft blanket, he stumped back to the stove, filled a bowl with porridge and added some top of the milk and a large helping of sugar.

‘You’re to eat all of that, Peggy Reilly,’ he said firmly as he set it on the table, ‘and then you’re to have the egg and toast I’ll be making for you.’

‘That’s far too much, Ron,’ she protested as she saw the size of the helping.

‘Eat,’ he said firmly, ‘and you’re not leaving this table until it’s all gone.’

Peggy blinked away her tears as she picked up the spoon. Ron was a rogue, and a ruddy nuisance at times, but God love him, he had a heart of gold beating beneath that ratty old jumper and it was lovely to be so well cared for.

The telephone rang just as she’d finished her egg and toast, and because it was not yet eight o’clock, Peggy raced to answer it, certain some disaster had befallen a member of her family.

‘Hello, Peggy. Stan here – from the station.’

She frowned. ‘Hello, Stan. Is there something wrong?’

‘I was wondering if you’ve got room to take in another lodger,’ he said hesitantly. ‘Only this little waif turned up on her own in the middle of the night on the last train from London, and hasn’t got anywhere to go.’

‘A child on her own? Well of course I’ll take her in, but the authorities will have to be informed, Stan.’

‘She’s not a child exactly,’ said Stan. He cleared his throat. ‘It’s difficult to tell how old she is, but I reckon her to be about seventeen or so – married, too, ’cos she’s wearing a ring. She’s only a wee thing, no bigger than a bug and half starved. Been through the wars by the look of her face – and probably not got two pennies to rub together if her clothes are anything to go by.’

‘Poor little thing. You send her to me, Stan. I’ve got a spare room she can have.’

‘Bless you, Peggy. I knew I could count on you.’

Peggy replaced the receiver and listened to the sounds from upstairs. Everyone was stirring and they would all want their breakfast. She returned to the kitchen, her thoughts on her conversation with Stan.

He’d been the stationmaster at Cliffehaven for years and should have retired long ago to potter in his allotment and tend his beloved roses, but his sense of duty was such that he’d stayed on and was one of the mainstays of the town. He knew everyone and was happy to chat and pass on gossip, for he’d been widowed for some years and enjoyed the company of others. It was typical of him to want to help this latest waif and stray, and Peggy suspected he’d made her comfortable for the night somewhere warm and probably fed her too.

She explained to Ron what the telephone call had been about and he nodded. ‘Salt of the earth is Stan,’ he agreed. He finished his cup of tea and reached for his cap. ‘Get the girls to help you today, Peggy, and put your feet up,’ he ordered. ‘I’ll see you at teatime.’

Peggy shooed him and the dog out of her kitchen and rescued the porridge, which was in danger of sticking to the bottom of the pan. It was all very well for Ron to be issuing orders, but the girls had long shifts and were out of the house for most of the day. As long as they tidied their own rooms and helped with the cooking and cleaning when they could, she was happy and perfectly capable of doing everything else.

‘I fell asleep after Jane left and now I’m running late,’ said Sarah breathlessly as she rushed into the kitchen in the jodhpurs, green sweater and heavy shoes that were the uniform for the WTC.

‘Drink a cup of tea and I’ll make you a quick sandwich to take with you,’ said Peggy as she reached for the bread knife. ‘You can’t possibly walk all that way over the hills to the estate without something to line your stomach.’ She sliced the rather stodgy wheatmeal loaf, made a thick sandwich with the last of the cheese and a smear of her home-made tomato relish, and wrapped it in a piece of newspaper. ‘How did it all go last night? Did you have fun?’

Sarah had pulled on her warm WTC coat and was standing as she finished her cup of tea. ‘We had a wonderful time. The Americans are terrific hosts. But Rita will tell you all about it.’

‘Did she enjoy herself and join in this time?’

Sarah nodded as she rammed her beret on her head, stuffed the sandwich in her coat pocket and turned to open the back door. ‘She had the best time of all,’ she said and grinned. ‘I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it. TTFN.’

‘Ta-ta for now,’ murmured Peggy in reply, but Sarah was already running down the garden path towards the twitten which would lead her up into the hills to the Cliffe estate and the WTC office where she worked.

Fran and Suzy came down together, their starched aprons crackling over their striped dresses as they greeted Peggy rather sleepily and helped themselves to porridge. ‘To be sure, Peggy, I have a yearning for me bed still. ’Tis terrible early to have to be facing Matron,’ said Fran.

‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have come in so late,’ said Suzy mildly.

‘It’s not my fault we had to hang about waiting for Rita,’ Fran protested. ‘If she hadn’t gone off with that Yank, we’d have been at home in bed long before midnight.’

Peggy was on full alert. ‘What do you mean, she went off with a Yank? What was she doing alone with him? Why weren’t you keeping an eye out for her?’

‘Because I’m not five years old and don’t need a chaperone,’ said Rita as she came into the room in her usual boyish attire. She put porridge in a bowl, poured a cup of tea and sat down. ‘Honestly, Fran, trust you to make a mountain out of a molehill. We were only talking motorbikes and you couldn’t have been waiting more than five minutes.’

‘Five minutes is a long time in the back of a Lincoln with someone who seemed to have grown another three pairs of hands,’ muttered Fran. ‘Honest to God, Peggy – I never thought I’d get out of there alive.’

Peggy glared at both of them. ‘I think it’s time I put a stop to you going up there,’ she said darkly. ‘It’s clearly not as safe as I thought.’

There was a loud protest from all three girls and in the end Peggy put up her hands for silence. ‘You will stick together in future, and there’s no more getting into back seats of Lincolns unless it’s just you girls. Understand me?’

Fran looked mulish and Rita blushed – but they both nodded.

Peggy looked more closely at Rita and realised, with something of a shock, that although she was in her fireman’s uniform she was wearing make-up. The American, and the night out, had clearly left a lasting impression. ‘So,’ she murmured. ‘Who is this American who likes to talk about motorbikes?’

Rita’s blush deepened and she dipped her chin. ‘His name’s Paul Schaffer and he comes from New York where his family own a motorbike dealership.’ She glanced up at Peggy through her curls. ‘We were only talking,’ she said softly.

‘I believe you, Rita,’ said Peggy with a sigh. ‘But please be careful. Those American boys are very attractive, and you don’t have much experience of these things.’

‘You sound just like my mother,’ grumbled Fran.

‘That’s because while you’re living under my roof I
am
your mother. Just remember that, Fran.’

‘Well, I had a very strange evening,’ said Suzy as an awkward silence fell. ‘Doris laid on a super dinner, ran poor Phyllis ragged and ignored her sweet husband, who looked as if he’d rather be on the front line facing the enemy guns than at home.’ She giggled. ‘All the best silver was out with the crystal, each place setting a minefield of knives and forks that I think was supposed to flummox me completely.’

‘I hope she didn’t upset you, Suzy,’ said Peggy.

‘Not at all,’ she replied with another giggle. ‘In fact, I think you could say it was an even match in the end, and I rather enjoyed the skirmish.’

‘Good for you,’ said Peggy with a sigh of relief. ‘She always makes me feel clumsy when she brings out the bone china and the silver teapot.’

Suzy shrugged. ‘Luckily I’m used to all that, so I let her get on with her airs and graces and enjoyed the dinner. Then, just as we were preparing to leave, I mentioned in passing that Winston Churchill was a family friend.’ She grinned at Fran’s gasp and Peggy’s wide-eyed disbelief. ‘That seemed to take the wind out of her sails, and before she could recover, Anthony brought me home.’

‘Good grief,’ gasped Peggy. And then she burst out laughing. ‘I would have loved to have seen her face,’ she spluttered, ‘but is it true?’