Far From Home (8 page)

She sneaked a glance at Anne, who looked radiant with happiness, her skin clear, her eyes shining, her whole demeanour proof of her robust health and confidence. Did she realise how lucky she was to have such a wonderful home and supportive family? She hoped she did, for Danuta would have given anything for that right now.

She felt the tiny flutter in her own belly and shielded the barely discernible mound by surreptitiously drawing her cardigan over it. Her baby was as eagerly awaited and just as precious as Anne’s – if not more so. For it had been conceived in the last few weeks of its father’s life, and was the last tangible proof of the love they’d found amidst the horrors of this war. But the ensuing trauma of her desperate race to escape the SS firing squad, and the lack of medical attention and good, wholesome food must surely have had an adverse effect on that tiny, half-formed being inside her?

She closed her eyes as the menacing drone of enemy aircraft grew louder and the crack of gunfire split the night. The heavy, booming thunder from the guns along the seafront and on the cliff-tops shook the earth beneath her feet, but after the terror of hiding in ditches from enemy tanks and fighter planes, she felt ridiculously safe under this bit of tin in the back of an English suburban garden. The sound of the Dorniers and Messerschmidts was overhead now, and it was clear that it would be a massive raid – probably on London again.

She listened as the others chattered. It was still difficult to tune in to the different accents, and she felt a little shy when she did try and make conversation, not wanting to make a mistake with her English, all too aware that her accent set her apart and that she must appear strange to them. The interview with Matron had reinforced this wariness, and she felt the shame flood through her again as she thought of how proudly she’d told them she was also a nurse. Had Peggy told them about her humiliating rejection and the lowly laundry post she’d been forced to take? She hoped not, but realised it wouldn’t remain a secret once she started her shift in the morning.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to concentrate on a more pressing matter. She felt surprisingly well considering what she’d been through, but she knew she must find a doctor and have a proper prenatal check-up. And that could pose another serious problem, for he would have to have no connection with the hospital if she was to keep her pregnancy secret and not incur the wrath of Matron, and the very real possibility of getting sacked.

The all-clear startled Polly awake, and she peered at her watch to discover it was seven in the morning. She’d fallen asleep perched on her case, and now she had a stiff neck, a crick in her back and didn’t feel at all refreshed. The thought of yet another long day of travelling made her wearier still.

She became aware of the activity surrounding her, and scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to bring some life to her cold flesh. Everyone was bustling to collect their belongings, and already there was a crush as people began to climb the long flight of stairs that would take them above ground. Polly slowly gathered her things together and, with a renewed determination to get this endless journey over with as soon as possible, struggled after them.

She emerged into a smoky dawn which stank of burning wood and hot metal, and was heavily laden with thick black dust and flying ash. Horrified by the sight that met her and incapable of moving, she let the others swirl round her as she looked at the smouldering skeletons of once-graceful buildings, the high jets of water spewing from a blasted water main, and heard the sharp bells of ambulances and fire engines.

Men were working furiously to clear rubble from the roads and trolley-bus tracks, and make buildings safe, while firemen were battling to keep their powerful hoses concentrated on a large fire that was consuming a public house on the far corner.

Polly could taste the dust and soot, could feel the grime and grit of it in her hair and on her skin. They were minor irritations and could be washed away, but she knew that the images of that day would remain with her forever.

And then she smiled, a bubble of mild hysteria and amusement growing as she watched a man in a bowler hat delicately pick his way through the rubble. Complete with furled umbrella, briefcase and three-piece suit, he was clearly off to work, and his determined expression told Polly that the aftermath of a bombing raid was the last thing to stop him.

Heartened by the sight, Polly picked up her heavy bags and staggered on to the concourse to find the train that would finally take her to Cliffehaven.

No one had had much sleep and they’d all emerged from the Anderson shelter bleary-eyed and yawning, the long day ahead stretching before them. The dawn was grey with the plumes of smoke rising from a distant bomb crater, and the usual smell of charred wood and buckled, overheated metal hung in the air where ash and soot floated in the early breeze.

Danuta and the three nurses hurried to get washed and dressed for work, and Anne and Mrs Finch prepared a hasty breakfast while Peggy went down the street making sure everyone was all right, and that there had been no serious injuries or further bomb damage to the houses.

She helped to make tea in kitchens where the fire had gone out and everything was covered in dust. Sat for a few minutes to ease tears and give a bit of sympathy, and helped one old chap clean his bedroom where the ceiling had collapsed. Armed with a shopping list and ration book from Mrs Cole two doors down who couldn’t walk far, she wearily headed back to Beach View Boarding House.

She caught sight of Danuta hurrying down the road in her usual drab skirt and cardigan, and wasn’t surprised she’d left the house early. The poor little thing was clearly devastated about not being allowed to nurse, and probably didn’t want to add to her humiliation by accompanying the other girls to the hospital. They were a close bunch, those three, but Peggy was determined to find some way of encouraging them to let Danuta join in. The poor girl could do with a bit of fun, and it must be horrible for her to be so far from home.

‘Oh dear,’ she sighed as she picked up the milk bottles from the doorstep. ‘I forgot to warn her about Nurse Brown.’ She stood there for a moment, deep in thought. Perhaps having another girl to share her room would ease Danuta’s loneliness? She had no idea how old Staff Nurse Brown was, or anything about her family circumstances, so she mustn’t jump to conclusions. But that didn’t stop her hoping she might become Danuta’s friend.

Peggy emerged from her thoughts and slowly made her way through the front door and into the hall where dust motes danced in the early sunlight. The night had been long and tiring, and there was still no sign of Cissy, Jim or Ron. Her previous anger had dwindled throughout the night, and she’d come to the conclusion that she would carry on as usual. It might seem as if she was being weak and woolly-minded, but Jim was her husband and, despite everything, she still loved him and couldn’t imagine life without him.

She had closed her ears to her mother’s warnings all those years ago and married him anyway, and she’d invested too much in this partnership to falter now. She had made her bed, now she must lie in it, and although some women might have seen her capitulation as weakness, Peggy knew it would take a great deal more strength to keep her marriage together than to walk away from it.

The thought of the coming grandchild warmed her heart as she entered the kitchen, and she smiled down at Anne who was sitting at the cluttered breakfast table with Mrs Finch. She had too much to lose, and divorce had never been an option, she acknowledged, as she placed the bottles of milk on the stone slab in the larder. She would knuckle down and carry on – deal with Jim and his peccadilloes, and ensure the smooth running of this household as she always did: quietly, determinedly and without histrionics.

‘Will you be able to stay for a while?’ she asked Anne.

She shook her head, making her lovely dark hair bounce against her shoulders. ‘Sorry, Mum. I’m expected back before one, and it takes a bit of time cycling up all those hills.’

‘Should you be using that bicycle now? I mean, it’s not very comfortable, and what if you fall off?’

Anne laughed and took her hand. ‘The last time I fell off a bike I was eight,’ she said. ‘Don’t fuss, Mum. I’m pregnant, not unbalanced and feeble.’

The three of them turned as June, Suzy and Fran clattered down the stairs and shouted their goodbyes before hurrying out of the front door. ‘They seem a lively bunch,’ said Anne, returning to her cup of tea.

‘They certainly keep me on my toes,’ agreed Peggy, ‘but I like having them around. The house seemed so empty once you and Sally and the boys left.’

Anne patted her hand in sympathy, and then glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the range. ‘Shouldn’t Cissy be back by now?’

Peggy looked at her watch and frowned. ‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘I wonder what’s keeping her?’

As if on cue, Cissy’s key turned in the lock and she hurried into the kitchen. ‘Sorry I’m late. There was a bit of a flap on because the costumes had been left out during the raid, and half a ceiling of plaster fell on them. I’ve just spent two hours trying to get them clean enough to wear tonight.’

She smiled at Mrs Finch as she pushed back the blonde hair she’d styled like Dorothy Lamour’s and sat down. ‘Hello, Anne,’ she said through a vast yawn. ‘Good to see you. You’re looking well. Any more tea in that pot? I’m parched.’

‘Anne’s got some lovely news,’ said Peggy as she added more water to the pot and swirled the leaves round, hoping it wouldn’t be too weak.

‘Oh, yes?’ Cissy clearly wasn’t really listening as she scrabbled in her handbag for a handkerchief.

‘I’m expecting a baby,’ breathed Anne.

Cissy’s blue eyes widened momentarily. ‘Congratulations,’ she murmured, dabbing the handkerchief under her nose. ‘When’s it due?’

‘Sometime in February,’ replied Anne with a frown.

‘That’s nice.’ Cissy balled the handkerchief in her fist and stared into her cup as she stirred the spoon round and round in the weak, sugarless tea.

Peggy could see she was distracted, Anne’s happy news hardly registering. Her youngest daughter had always been rather self-centred, but she and Anne had been close despite their different aspirations, and it was most unlike Cissy to be almost dismissive of such momentous news. Deciding she was probably tired and out of sorts, she let it pass for now. ‘How did the show go last night?’

Cissy shrugged. ‘Okay. The air raid didn’t help, of course.’

Peggy surreptitiously watched her daughter as she continued to stir the tea. Cissy was almost nineteen, and she and Jim had reluctantly agreed to her joining a travelling troupe of artistes on the understanding they didn’t go further than the county borders. It was all Cissy had ever dreamed of – although it was a very small troupe, with no famous names attached to it, and it was unlikely to provide the fame and fortune Cissy had craved ever since her first dance class at the local church hall. But the enthusiasm and ambition for show-business life seemed to have waned over the past few weeks, the cheery, breathless excitement that had always been such an intrinsic part of Cissy had withered, and Peggy couldn’t help but notice the dark shadows under her eyes.

‘But everything’s all right, isn’t it?’ she persisted.

Cissy’s smile was a little too bright. ‘Of course, why shouldn’t it be?’

‘I just wondered.’ Peggy was alerted by that false smile. Something was definitely wrong with her youngest daughter. ‘It can’t be easy working with a new troupe and a new manager. This latest schedule of shows seems awfully hectic, and you’re looking tired, darling.’

Cissy avoided her mother’s eyes as she drank the tea. ‘It’s hectic, yes, but if I want to make a name in this business I have to be prepared for hard work.’ She put the cup back in the saucer and pushed away from the table, still avoiding Peggy’s gaze. ‘I hope the water hasn’t been turned off. I need a bath after cleaning all those costumes.’

‘The mains can’t have been hit last night; there’s plenty of water. But that doesn’t mean you can fill the tub to the top and lounge about in there half the morning,’ replied Peggy. ‘There’s housework and shopping to do and, with Nurse Brown arriving today, I want to give her and Danuta’s room a good clean.’

Cissy rolled her eyes. ‘I’m exhausted, Mum. Housework is the last thing on my mind.’

‘I expect it is, but that doesn’t mean you can get away with ignoring it. I expect you back down here within the half-hour,’ said Peggy.

Cissy scowled, grabbed her cardigan and slung it over her shoulders then, without another word, left the kitchen.

Peggy heard her light footsteps on the stairs, and the slam of the bathroom door. She couldn’t ignore it any longer, she realised. There was definitely something not right with Cissy. The change had come about when Jack Witherspoon had persuaded her and Jim to let her join the small troupe of entertainers he managed. It had meant a bit of travelling, but that was what Cissy had wanted, and it was obvious by the hectic timetable of shows that the troupe was doing rather well. Peggy had initially put the edginess and short temper down to the long hours Cissy worked, but now she suspected it went deeper than that, and it worried her.

Anne broke into her thoughts. ‘I must say, Cissy could have shown a bit more enthusiasm over my news. Perhaps it’s because she thinks becoming an aunt will make her feel old?’

Peggy buried the anxiety and patted Anne’s hand. ‘She’s probably a bit tired after prancing about on a stage and spending half the night in a shelter. I’m sure when the news sinks in she’ll be as enthusiastic as the rest of us.’