Far From Home (25 page)

‘So you’ll do it?’

She shook her head, the tears blinding her. ‘I cannot. I am so sorry.’

‘But why? I don’t understand.’

She took a deep breath. ‘I am four months pregnant, Ron, and this baby is far too precious to risk such things.’

Ron gave a very deep sigh. ‘I see,’ he murmured. ‘I wish I’d known before I told you everything.’

Danuta put her hand on his arm. ‘It will remain a secret, Ron. I promise. And, who knows, maybe I can do something once the baby is born?’

‘Once that wee bairn’s in your arms, you’ll not be wanting to risk your life, Danuta.’ He eyed her for a long moment. ‘But you could still train to work with the Observation Corps. My granddaughter Anne’s with them.’ He gave a deep sigh, ‘But of course with the baby on the way, they probably wouldn’t take you. Anne will have to leave soon. They don’t like pregnant women on base.’ He stood and whistled up Harvey. ‘It’s late, so let’s be getting home, lass.’

Danuta stood beside him and touched his arm again. ‘We both have secrets, Ron. Please don’t speak of this baby.’

‘You have my word, lass, as I have yours. Let that be an end to it.’

Peggy was dozing by the fire as the sweet orchestral music poured from the wireless. Cissy and Mrs Finch were upstairs, and everyone else was out. It was bliss to have these moments to herself, even though she’d thoroughly enjoyed having a houseful all afternoon.

She was falling deeper into sleep and would have missed the sound of someone knocking on the front door if, at that moment, there hadn’t been a lull in the music. Frowning, she dragged herself out of the chair, rammed on her slippers and went to see who it was at her door after nine o’clock on a Sunday night.

She frowned at the two middle-aged women who stood very solemnly on her doorstep in their sturdy shoes, enveloping overcoats and sensible hats. She knew both of them through her work with the WVS, and their unexpected appearance was unnerving, for they were welfare workers, and house calls were made only in the direst of emergencies. ‘Miss Jackson, Mrs Friar?’ she managed through a constricted throat. ‘How can I help you?’

Miss Jackson’s expression didn’t change. ‘Good evening, Peggy. I’m sorry, but this isn’t a social call. We’re here to see Mrs Polly Brown.’

‘Polly’s at the hospital on night shift,’ Peggy replied, her heart beating a rapid tattoo. ‘She’s not due home until about six tomorrow morning. What is it? What’s happened?’

Mrs Friar pulled her coat collar in. ‘It’s a brisk night, Peggy, and it will take some time to explain everything.’

‘Of course, oh, do come in,’ she said, flustered at having forgotten her manners. ‘I’m sorry. You rather caught me on the hop.’

‘We realise it’s very late,’ said Kate Jackson as they stepped into the hall and shed their coats. ‘But the matter has only just come to light and is rather urgent.’

‘I see.’ She didn’t see at all, in fact her mind was in such a whirl that she couldn’t think of anything very much as she dumped their coats over the newel post and led them into her kitchen.

‘I don’t usually bring visitors in here,’ she said hurriedly, ‘but we had a bit of a party in the dining room this afternoon and it’s all a bit of a mess still. And anyway, I can’t have two fires going and the kitchen is cosier with the range and everything and …’ She realised she was babbling, and fell silent.

Agatha Friar pulled off her gloves and plumped down in a kitchen chair. ‘Peggy, your kitchen is absolutely fine, and I think we’ve known one another long enough not to have to stand on ceremony,’ she said in her deep contralto.

Peggy’s hand was trembling as she turned off the wireless and sank into her chair by the fire. ‘What is it?’ she breathed. ‘Why do you need to see Polly so urgently?’

Kate Jackson sat next to her colleague and quietly and calmly told Peggy the reason for their late-night visit.

Peggy closed her eyes as the full import of what she’d been told began to sink in. She yearned for someone, anyone to walk through that door and help shoulder part of this terrible burden. But the only sound in the house was the tick of the clock above the mantel, and the spitting of wood-sap in the fire.

‘I’m sorry, Peggy,’ said Kate Jackson after a long interval. ‘We don’t usually divulge such information before we speak to the person concerned, but in this case, I think it’s right that you should be fully prepared. Mrs Brown is in your care, and she will need a great deal of help and support in the coming days – and we both know that your enormous capacity for compassion will be of infinite comfort to her. She’s lucky to have you, Peggy. I’m only sorry you’ve had to be burdened with this.’

‘You do realise her husband is critically ill in hospital?’ muttered Peggy, the tears blinding her. ‘Something like this could tip her over the edge.’

‘I know, and in normal circumstances it would have been up to the hospital almoner to speak to her. But we thought it better to visit her at home where she has more privacy, and is surrounded by people she trusts.’

‘But why was there no news of this on the wireless?’ breathed Peggy. ‘Surely something as terrible …?’

‘The Prime Minister has put a block on any press coverage until everyone involved has been informed. A tragedy like this cannot be revealed in the press, or by telegram – it is too shocking, and with the post being so unreliable at the moment, Mr Churchill himself decided it would be best if we in the Welfare Department visited personally to break the news.’

Agatha rose from her chair and put the kettle on the hob. ‘There will be a letter arriving for Mrs Brown in the next few days from Mr Shakespeare, who is the Under-secretary for the Dominions, and Chairman of the Evacuation Board.’ She collected cups and saucers and busied herself with making the tea. ‘It’s a small gesture, but hopefully it might help her realise that she is not alone.’

Peggy lit a cigarette and smoked furiously as she regarded the two women, her thoughts jumbled, her emotions in turmoil. ‘Surely you don’t expect me to sit here all night waiting for her to come home with this preying on my mind? What words could I possibly find to tell her such a thing?’

‘Of course not,’ soothed Kate. ‘And you won’t have to break the news, Peggy. We will do that. As this needs to be done as soon as possible, would you mind if I use your telephone to call the hospital?’

‘But you can’t tell someone something like this over the telephone.’

‘I have no intention of doing so,’ murmured Kate, as Agatha placed the teacups in front of them. ‘Drink your tea, Peggy. It might help to restore you.’

Peggy ignored the tea, smoked her cigarette and stared into the fire as Kate walked out of the kitchen. She heard the ‘ting’ as she lifted the receiver and the murmur of her voice as she asked to be put through to Matron’s office at the hospital. Throwing the cigarette butt into the fire, Peggy buried her face in her hands and began to sob.

POLLY WAS STILL
buzzing with the liveliness of the lunchtime party and felt happier than she had in a long while. She’d managed to have a fairly long chat with Adam during visiting time – even though it was mostly her doing the chatting – and he’d seemed a little more conscious of what was going on around him before he’d once again fallen asleep.

Her patients also seemed in a better frame of mind tonight, as well, but Polly put that down to the lack of any raids throughout the day. They had sat and knitted and gossiped and read magazines, and then had enjoyed the short visits from their friends and relatives before quite happily settling down for the night after their cocoa.

Now the ward was quiet, Sister was on her break, and Polly was sitting in the pool of light cast by the table lamp which sat on the edge of Sister’s desk. She was going through the medical notes of each patient, making sure everything was up to date. Two of them would be going home tomorrow, so there would be a bit of a change-round in the morning.

‘Staff Nurse Brown.’

Polly started; she hadn’t heard Matron creeping up on her. Did the blasted woman never sleep? She quickly rose from the chair, wondering if she was about to be torn off a strip for visiting Adam out of hours – or worse, that Adam’s condition had suddenly deteriorated – but Matron’s expression was unreadable. ‘It’s not Adam, is it, Matron?’ she asked fearfully.

‘Your husband is sleeping quite peacefully, Staff Nurse.’

Polly saw something approaching hesitation and reluctance in those steely eyes and it made her mouth dry and her pulse race. ‘What is it?’ she breathed.

Matron took her arm and firmly led her through the double doors into the corridor. ‘It seems you are needed back at Beach View Boarding House,’ she said quietly. ‘Mrs Reilly will explain everything when you get there.’

‘What’s happened? Is someone hurt?’

Matron reached into the tiny room set aside for the nurses to make tea during their breaks, and pulled Polly’s cloak, handbag and gas mask from the coat-stand. Her expression softened as she held them out to Polly. ‘I understand there has been a fatality,’ she said with a gentleness no one had witnessed before.

Polly thought her heart would burst from her chest as she struggled into the cloak and grabbed the rest of her things. ‘A fatality? But who?’

Matron put her warm, soft hand on Polly’s shoulder. ‘Mrs Reilly needs you, Nurse,’ she said softly. ‘I can’t tell you anything more, I’m sorry.’

Polly flew along the corridor and hurtled down the stairs. Her thoughts were going a mile a minute as her footsteps pounded the pavement and echoed through the silent streets, and her heart thudded against her ribs.

Who could have died? Surely not Mrs Finch – or Ron – or Danuta? Oh God, it felt as if Beach View Terrace was miles away instead of just a few hundred yards down the road.

She skidded to a halt at the bottom of the steps and looked up as the door opened. Peggy was standing on the threshold, and it was clear from her reddened eyes and swollen lids that she’d been crying.

Polly slowly climbed the steps, her dread growing when she realised Ron and Danuta were also in the hall, and their solemn expressions made the fear rise and lodge like acid in her throat. ‘What is it?’ she managed as the terror squeezed coldly round her heart. ‘Who … what …?’

Peggy put her arm round her shoulders and drew her inside before closing the front door. ‘Come into the kitchen, Polly. There’s something we have to tell you.’

Polly allowed herself to be stripped of her cloak before being led into the kitchen. She stared at the two women who were standing there, wondering who they were.

‘These ladies are from the Welfare Department,’ said Peggy.

Polly nodded at them, still baffled by their presence. ‘Welfare Department?’ she murmured. ‘But what …? Why …? Matron said there’d been a fatality.’

‘Sit down, dear,’ said Peggy. ‘They’ll explain everything.’

Polly found she was being pressed into the fireside chair by Peggy. She perched stiffly on the very edge of it, her terrified gaze flying between the two silent women who now sat by the table, to Ron and Danuta who stood by the door, and back to a clearly distraught Peggy. ‘You’re frightening me,’ she whispered. ‘Please tell me what’s happened.’

The taller, thinner and slightly younger woman cleared her throat. ‘Mrs Brown, my name is Kate Jackson, and this is Agatha Friar. We work for the Welfare Department, and it is our sad duty to inform you that a German U-boat attacked and sank the
City of Benares
during a storm in the Atlantic, causing a tragic number of fatalities. I’m sorry, Mrs Brown – Polly – but none of your family is on the list of survivors.’

Polly stared at her, unable to take it in. ‘No, you’ve got it wrong,’ she said with heavy calm. ‘They’re in Canada. They were due to arrive at least two days ago. There’s been a mistake.’

Kate reached for her hand. ‘We wouldn’t be here if there had been the slightest doubt that any of them had survived,’ she said softly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Polly looked at each of them in turn, the strange calm slowly being undermined by an icy, jagged fear. ‘They’re in Canada,’ she repeated flatly. ‘They’re with Uncle Peter in Ottawa.’ She looked to Peggy for reassurance.

‘It’s no mistake, my dear,’ said Peggy, her voice gruff with unshed tears. ‘Eighty-three of the ninety children on board were killed along with two hundred and eleven passengers and crew. Alice and the rest of your family were among them.’

Polly’s mind simply couldn’t accept what she was hearing. ‘But how could that happen, when the convoy was being escorted by navy destroyers? How did a U-boat manage to get anywhere near them?’

Peggy’s tears were spilling down her face. ‘I don’t know,’ she said softly, grasping Polly’s hand. ‘But it did happen, Polly, and although it must be the hardest thing you will ever have to do, you must try and accept they are gone.’

Polly turned to Kate Jackson, who shook her head. ‘We haven’t been told all the details of how the attack happened,’ she confessed, ‘just the salient facts of those who perished.’

‘Then you’d better check those
salient facts
again,’ Polly rasped, ‘because I would have known if something had happened to Alice. She’s my baby. I would have felt it here.’ She put her fist against her heart.

‘No, Polly,’ said Peggy urgently. ‘We all like to think we would know if such a thing happened to our loved ones, but it simply isn’t true.’