Always in My Heart (25 page)

He dismissed these dark thoughts and smiled as he saw the two boys urging him to hurry. This was what mattered now, for they would soon be leaving for Somerset again, and he might not get the chance to be with them for another year or so. It was not the time to dwell on such things as war and prison and death and dying – but on family and home and the love that bound one person to another.

He quickened his pace and finally reached the tumbledown walls of the old farmhouse. Sitting on a
hummock of grass, he poured tea into the tin mugs and handed them round.

As the boys drank their tea and munched on their biscuits, Ron lit his pipe and prepared to tell them the story about how he came to have moving shrapnel in his back. It wouldn’t be the whole story, neither would it be particularly true – but he’d told it so many times before that he could embellish it so it made them laugh – and he loved hearing them laugh.

With the gas fire lit against the chill of the early spring day, Cordelia settled down in her chair. But instead of putting on her glasses and reading the papers, she stared into the flames for a long while, her thoughts returning to the other times when she’d had to say goodbye. There had been too many over the years, and she understood too well how bereft Peggy must be feeling now. Yet she knew that feeling would pass, that Peggy’s spirit would be revived as she slowly picked up the pieces and returned to the everyday needs of her home and family.

Cordelia reached for her glasses and lifted up the rather creased and grubby
Daily Mail
, deciding to give it a quick glance before she settled down to read the
Telegraph
, which she’d always preferred. She skimmed through most of the paper and found nothing much different to the news bulletins she heard on the wireless every night. The
Telegraph
had the same news, of course, but there was an interesting piece on Lord Beaverbrook, who was now the Minister of Supply,
and further comment by the Editor on Churchill’s recent speech and the awful events unfolding in the Far East.

There was also a report and long analysis on the successful ‘Channel Dash’ made by the Germans from Brest in Brittany, through the Straits of Dover and into the North Sea to reach their base in Germany. It was the first time since the Spanish Armada that enemy ships had sailed along the Channel, and it was shocking how easily they’d managed to avoid the heroic and determined efforts to sink them by the Royal Navy and the RAF.

It seemed that there was bad news everywhere, and she was about to set the paper aside when a small headline at the very bottom of the back page caught her eye.

JAPAN CLAIMS SINKING OF REFUGEE SHIP

A radio broadcast was sent out yesterday from the Japanese, who claim that their Imperial Air Force has sunk the refugee ship, the HMSS
Monarch of the Glen
which was carrying women and children to safety from Singapore. This cannot be confirmed, and could be a treacherous and cruel piece of propaganda. But the
Monarch of the Glen
has not been sighted since leaving Singapore and has not arrived at her first port of call as scheduled.

Cordelia let the newspaper flutter unheeded to the
floor as the terrible sense of loss overwhelmed her. The family she’d never known she had was gone; the plans and dreams she’d happily envisaged were lost – scattered like smoke on the wind.

The anguish that had been building all day swelled until she couldn’t fight it any longer, and she buried her face in her hands and wept.

A week had passed since Jim and Frank had left for Yorkshire, and now that Anne and the boys were back in Somerset with Rose Margaret, and Cissy had returned to her duties at the airfield, Peggy was struggling to cope. The house was suddenly too empty and quiet, the nights alone in that big bed too long.

She cooked and cleaned, cared for Daisy, took long walks with the pram, queued at the shops and struggled with the laundry, but her thoughts were constantly with Jim, wondering how he was getting on, and where the Army would send him and Frank. With the world in such turmoil, they could be sent anywhere – for even Darwin and Broome in Australia had suffered several devastating air raids, and Java, Rangoon and Hong Kong had been overrun by the Japanese.

Peggy finished hanging out the washing and stood for a moment by the pram where Daisy was gurgling happily in the spring sunshine. It was the beginning of March, and Ron’s vegetable patch was coming on a treat, the chickens were still laying a good number of eggs, and she could see the first green buds sprouting on next door’s lilac tree. Spring was definitely around
the corner, for there were only a few pale clouds drifting in a leisurely fashion across the blue sky, and the breeze felt several degrees warmer than of late.

She adjusted the blanket over Daisy, tipped the hood so the sun didn’t fall directly onto her face and adjusted the fly netting. It was time to get back in harness, she decided; time to stop moping about feeling sorry for herself when so many other women were rolling up their sleeves and getting on with things.

She picked up the laundry basket, hung it back on the hook in the scullery and was about to go up the stairs to the kitchen when she saw Ron at the back gate. He was looking decidedly furtive, his gaze darting towards the back door and the kitchen window as Harvey whined at his heels.

Peggy drew back into the shadows of the scullery and watched, intrigued, as he closed the gate behind him and almost tiptoed down the path with his hand firmly grasping Harvey’s collar.

‘What are you up to?’ she asked as he stepped over the threshold.

His eyes widened and he tried very hard to cover his surprise and guilt at having been caught out. ‘Hello, Peg,’ he blustered as he let Harvey free and eased past her. ‘Nice day for the washing.’

Peggy folded her arms, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. ‘A nice day for mischief too,’ she said wryly. ‘Why so furtive, Ron?’

‘Me?’ he asked in wide-eyed innocence. ‘Furtive? To be sure, Peggy girl, ’tis suspicious you are.’

Peggy laughed for the first time in a week. ‘I think I have a right to be, you old scallywag.’ She saw how Harvey was whining and sniffing at the pockets of his old poacher’s coat. ‘What have you got hidden in there this time? One of Lord Cliffe’s game birds? Or is it a fresh salmon from his lake?’

‘I’ve not been poaching,’ he protested stoutly. ‘To be sure, Peg, that estate is too well guarded now and a man would be a fool to even try.’

‘I’m sure that hasn’t deterred you one bit.’ She plucked at the coat and Harvey barked and wagged his tail.

‘A fat lot of good y’are at keepin’ secrets,’ he muttered to the dog. His gaze didn’t quite reach Peggy’s as he shuffled from one foot to the other. ‘Now you’re to promise not to fly off the handle, Peg,’ he said hastily. ‘Only it was Bob’s idea and as they were going spare for the price of a bit of pipe tobacco, I thought … Well, I thought it would do no harm,’ he finished in a rush.

She couldn’t be cross with him. He’d been so lovely to her over the past week, even though it was clear he too was feeling the emptiness of the house. ‘You’d better show me what you’ve got then,’ she said with a smile.

He reached into one of the deepest pockets and very gently drew out two young ferrets which looked at Peggy with bright inquisitive eyes and twitching whiskers.

Peggy stepped back, remembering how sharp ferret teeth could be.

‘This is Flora,’ said Ron as he held up the chocolate-brown one which had tan-coloured ears and face markings. ‘And this is Dora.’ Dora was black all over except for a ring of white round each eye which made her look a bit like a small panda.

Peggy eyed them both as they squirmed in Ron’s large hands. She didn’t like ferrets; they were too much like weasels – and therefore, to her mind, no better than vermin. She certainly didn’t appreciate them in the house, and Ron’s previous ferrets had been banished to the cellar.

But as they looked back at her with their big brown eyes, she could see how appealing they were, and as she tentatively reached out to stroke them, she discovered their fur was beautifully soft. ‘They look very young,’ she murmured. ‘Are you sure they’ve been weaned?’

‘They’re seven weeks old,’ he replied, ‘and the jill stopped feeding them over a week ago.’ He dangled them over his arm and slowly stroked their furry bellies. ‘I’ve had them neutered and de-scented, so you’ve no worries about the smell this time.’

He looked at her with such hope that she could only relent. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘but they don’t come upstairs and they are to go nowhere near Daisy. Is that understood, Ron?’

‘Aye,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You’ll not have a moment’s worry over them, Peg.’

She doubted that very much, but kept her thoughts to herself. ‘And what exactly will you feed them with?
There is a war on, you know, and eggs and milk are too precious to give to ferrets.’

‘You’ll not be worrying your head about a thing,’ he said hastily. ‘Ferrets don’t eat much and I’ve made an arrangement with a pal of mine to get cheap cat food. They can have a drop of my milk and cheese ration and the odd scrap from the table.’

Peggy didn’t like the sound of this at all, but Ron had missed having ferrets about ever since he’d set his last two free at the beginning of the war, so she couldn’t deny him this little pleasure. ‘As long as you remember it comes out of your ration and not anyone else’s,’ she murmured.

‘Thanks, Peg,’ he said and grinned at her as he tucked them back into his pocket. ‘I’ve missed not having Cleo and Delilah about, and when Bob and I got to talking the other week …’ He gave a shrug. ‘They’ll keep me mind off Rosie, and perhaps help to bring in more rabbits for the dinner table.’

Peggy patted his arm. ‘I’ll leave you to settle them in then,’ she said softly.

She climbed the steps to the kitchen and found Cordelia at the sink scraping carrots. ‘They look nice,’ she said as she put the kettle on the hob. ‘Did you have to queue very long to get them?’

‘No dear, I couldn’t get any rice,’ she replied rather distractedly. ‘But then I didn’t realise you wanted any.’

Peggy smiled as she set out the mismatched cups and saucers. Cordelia really did need a new hearing
aid, but after forking out for the last one only to have it trampled on days later, she was loath to risk it again.

She watched Cordelia continue to scrape the carrots, realising suddenly that the elderly woman had been distracted ever since Jim had left. She hadn’t really taken much notice until today, and she felt awful about how selfish and uncaring she’d been.

‘Is something the matter?’ she asked.

‘I can’t do them in batter, dear,’ she replied. ‘They wouldn’t taste nice at all – and besides, we don’t have any flour.’

Peggy signed to her to turn up her hearing aid, for this conversation was going nowhere and she needed to get to the bottom of whatever it was that Cordelia was fretting over.

Cordelia dried her hands on her wrap-round apron, fiddled with her hearing aid and smiled rather sheepishly. ‘I forgot that I’d turned it right down,’ she admitted.

‘Is something worrying you, Cordelia?’ asked Peggy clearly. ‘You seem a bit distracted of late.’

The elderly woman patted Peggy’s arm and shook her head. ‘I’ve just been feeling my age a bit,’ she said, ‘and of course I miss Jim about the place – but really, Peggy dear, there’s nothing for you to worry about.’

Peggy wanted to believe her, but she had the feeling Cordelia wasn’t being entirely truthful. However, she let it pass in the hope that the older woman would confide in her when she felt ready to do so. ‘We must get those rooms ready again for your family,’ she said
in the hope of cheering her up. ‘They must be about due to arrive in Scotland.’

Cordelia turned her back and fished a carrot out of the bowl of water and began to slice it on the breadboard. ‘I’m sure they’ll send us a telegram when they get here,’ she replied, ‘there’s no need to rush.’

Peggy frowned. Cordelia had been so eager for them to come to Beach View, and had happily tried to follow their long journey on one of Bob’s old atlases and discussed all the things she could do with them once they’d arrived.

She touched Cordelia’s shoulder. ‘You don’t seem as excited at the prospect of having them here,’ she said clearly. ‘Are you beginning to have doubts?’

The paring knife flashed dangerously close to the little fingers as the carrots were chopped. ‘Of course I’m not, dear,’ she said firmly, ‘but with everything else that’s going on, one can’t depend on anything any more. I’d prefer to wait and see if they make it safely here before you go to all the trouble of preparing rooms again.’

Peggy could see her logic, but didn’t really understand her reticence after her initial joy at discovering she had two great-nieces to fuss over. She made the tea and called down to Ron, who seemed to be shifting things about in the cellar – no doubt unearthing the old ferret cages that had become buried beneath all the rubbish he kept down there.

Once the three of them were seated at the table and Harvey had had his dog biscuit and saucer of tea, she
told them of her own plans. ‘I’ve decided to go back and work part-time with the WVS,’ she said. ‘They need every spare pair of hands they can get, and I feel I’ve rather let the side down by not going back after Daisy was born.’

‘Aye,’ muttered Ron around the stem of his pipe. ‘You’ll enjoy getting out of the house for a wee while. D’ye want me to look out for Daisy?’

Peggy shook her head. ‘She can come with me. There’s always a spare corner at the Town Hall. But I might need you to babysit if I have to go and man a tea wagon or attend some emergency.’

Ron and Cordelia nodded. ‘We’ll both keep an eye on her,’ said Cordelia. ‘It will do you good to have some time to yourself for a change.’

Peggy smiled at her naïvety. There would be precious little time to be had once she was back to sorting through old clothes, making up parcels to send to the troops abroad, or packets of sandwiches for the servicemen who were passing through on their way to the docks further along the coast, or dealing with the homeless and dispossessed. The work of the WVS was constant and time-consuming, but very satisfying, and what she was really looking forward to was being so tired at the end of each day that she didn’t have the chance to think about things.