Some Lucky Day (49 page)

‘Is there someone with Peggy?’ Kitty asked as she clambered into the fire station van.

‘Fran’s had to go to work and the others aren’t back yet. I phoned Ron at the Anchor to tell him what’s happened, so he’ll be there by now to take over from Grandma Finch. She’s as upset as Peggy and really not much use.’

Rita slammed the door, fired up the engine and sent the van roaring down the driveway with such force, gravel was spattered everywhere.

Kitty could understand Peggy’s bitter disappointment, for she’d been so happy and busy with her cleaning and her plans for Jim’s homecoming. ‘We must do something to try and cheer her up,’ she said as they hurtled round a bend.

Rita nodded. ‘We must all muck in and do the tea, then I thought we should take her to the Anchor for a drink. Fran and Suzy are on duty tonight, but I’m sure Jane wouldn’t mind staying in to babysit Daisy.’

‘What about Grandma Finch? Won’t she look after Daisy so Jane can come with us?’

Rita shook her head as she concentrated on the narrow country lane. ‘Grandma Finch is as upset as Auntie Peg and she likes nothing better than a sweet sherry at the Anchor, so it will be a treat. She loves being in a crowded bar so she can sit and watch everyone and join in the sing-songs.’

Kitty smiled at this. ‘I didn’t realise Cordelia enjoyed such things,’ she said. ‘She’s such a quiet little woman, and at times she can be quite prim.’

Rita smiled fondly. ‘That’s what she’d like you to think, but Cordelia is still very young at heart and enjoys a night out just as much as anyone.’ She chuckled. ‘She’s as out of tune as the old piano, and I can remember at least two occasions when Ron has had to virtually carry her home after she’s had two large sherries.’

Kitty grabbed her seat as Rita took a bend too fast and had to screech to a slithering, heart-pounding stop to avoid an oncoming tractor. ‘I look forward to that drink,’ she said. ‘If we ever make it that far.’

Rita grinned. ‘Don’t tell me you’re losing your nerve, Kitty Pargeter. What’s forty miles an hour compared to the speed you do in a Spit?’

‘I don’t attempt to fly a Spit down narrow country lanes – let alone an old van with unreliable brakes,’ she said dryly.

‘You’re getting soft in your old age,’ teased Rita as the tractor rumbled past. Then she rammed her foot on the accelerator and they hurtled towards home.

Peggy had emerged from her room briefly to tearfully telephone Martin to ask him to warn Cissy that her father wouldn’t be coming home after all. Having returned to her bed, she soon came to realise she couldn’t hide in her bedroom all night with so many things to do and so many people to care for. So she’d washed the remains of the face pack off and brushed out her hair in an effort to feel a bit more cheerful.

Yet it felt as if a heavy weight rested on her heart as the sweet, loving girls bustled about her kitchen to prepare the evening meal that she’d planned for Saturday night. There were lovely thick, meaty sausages from Alf the butcher, a pile of mashed potato and fresh green beans from the garden, all smothered in lashings of Jim’s favourite thick gravy. For afters, she’d planned to make a sponge pudding with some of her illicit white flour, and use the last of the golden syrup to pour over it.

However, there would be no syrup sponge and no Jim this weekend, and the weight grew heavier in her heart as her tears began to blind her.

‘Please don’t cry, Auntie Peg,’ said Rita as she gave Peggy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. ‘He’ll come home, really he will – just a bit later than we all expected, that’s all.’

Peggy blew her nose and dredged up a smile. ‘I’m more cross than anything,’ she admitted gruffly. ‘How could the army cancel his leave at the last minute like that? And with no hint of how long it will be before it’s reinstated. It’s unfair on everyone.’

‘Ach, to be sure, Peggy girl, the army does as it pleases,’ said Ron, who’d come straight home from the Anchor following Rita’s urgent telephone call. ‘Now dry your eyes and eat some of this delicious food the girls have cooked.’

Peggy regarded the heaped plate in front of her and didn’t feel in the least bit hungry. But as she was about to push the plate away she saw how everyone was watching her, so she dug her fork into the potato and took a mouthful. ‘It’s lovely, girls, thank you,’ she murmured.

‘Make sure you eat every last bit, Auntie Peg,’ said Rita, who was feeding Daisy. ‘You’re going to need to keep up your strength, because we’re all going to the Anchor after tea, and you don’t want to be drinking on an empty stomach.’

Peggy didn’t want to go to the pub. In fact all she really wanted to do was go to bed and curl up with her misery. ‘You all go,’ she said. ‘I have to look after Daisy.’

‘I’m doing that,’ said Jane. ‘So you’ve got no excuses – and it would be a shame not to show off your lovely new hairstyle. Fran’s done a smashing job on it, don’t you think?’

Peggy nodded. She knew when to give in gracefully, and so she ate the meal she should have been sharing with Jim. Yet she found she had to force every last tasteless morsel down.

Once the meal was finally over, she lit a cigarette to go with her cup of tea and watched as the girls cleared the table and washed the dishes. They were such lovely girls, and so thoughtful in the way they were trying so hard to cheer her up. And although the last thing she wanted to do tonight was sit in a smoky pub and be deafened by Cordelia’s singing, she’d begun to think that a couple of gins might be just the thing she needed to help her sleep tonight.

‘I’ll just go and get changed,’ she said as she battled her tears and stubbed out the cigarette.

Closing her bedroom door behind her, she sank onto the bed and stared at her reflection in the dressing-table mirror. She’d waited so long for Jim to come home, and now she would have to find the strength to carry on and continue waiting. But if she was going to the Anchor, then she needed to do something to hide her swollen eyelids and pale face.

With a deep sigh of longing for what might have been, she ran her hand over the counterpane, and then opened the wardrobe door to regard the scant few clothes that hung there. Deciding on a blue and white linen dress that had been one of Doris’s cast-offs, she found her blue pumps and dug out a hand-knitted white cardigan she’d only finished the previous week. The nights were drawing in now it was September and it could get quite cold, so she took her overcoat off its hanger and placed it on the bed.

Determined not to let her emotions get the better of her, she dressed and put on her face. Adding a defiant slash of red lipstick, she felt ready to face everyone again. The uncaring, mean army wasn’t going to beat her down. Not this time. Not ever.

With a deep breath for courage she opened the bedroom door to find that everyone but Ron was in the hall. Harvey came to lick her hand, then shot off back into the kitchen.

‘You look lovely, Auntie Peg,’ said Rita as she helped Cordelia on with her overcoat. ‘And that lipstick tells me you’re feeling more like your old self again,’ she added with an impish grin.

Peggy replied with a wan smile and tried to look enthusiastic about the outing.

‘Come along Ron,’ called Cordelia. ‘Look lively. The first drinks are on you, so make sure you dig out your wallet.’

‘Ach, will ye be still, woman?’ he grumbled without rancor as Harvey made a beeline for Peggy.

Ron stomped past Jane, who was holding Daisy in her arms, and came into the hall wearing his one smart jacket, fairly decent shirt and a pair of sharply pressed trousers. ‘I’m a pensioner and me shrapnel’s playing up like the very divil tonight, so ’tis sympathy I should be getting, not unreasonable demands.’

‘You’re not the only pensioner around here, Ronan Reilly,’ Cordelia retorted. ‘And your blessed shrapnel has little to do with anything. So stop moaning and open your wallet for once. The moths must be gasping for air.’

Peggy smiled at their gentle banter as she regarded Ron’s appearance with some pleasure. He’d clearly made an effort to smarten himself up and, she noticed with surprise, he’d also had a shave and put brilliantine in his hair. This was a minor miracle, and no doubt had something to do with Rosie.

Then she caught sight of Kitty, who was standing by the telephone and looking very reluctant to leave. She was about to say something, but Jane had obviously noticed too, for she came to Kitty’s side and put a consoling hand on her arm.

‘Don’t worry, Kitty,’ Jane said. ‘If Roger telephones I’ll let him know where you are and why.’

Harvey clearly thought it was all terribly exciting to have a family outing and ran round in circles getting under everyone’s feet, until he was sharply ordered by Ron to keep still and behave.

Once Ron had seen Cordelia safely down the front steps, the girls hovered by Kitty as she slowly negotiated her way to the pavement.

Peggy pulled on her overcoat, kissed Daisy goodnight and gave Jane a hug. ‘Thank you, dear,’ she said. ‘Now, Daisy likes to splash a bit in her bath at bedtime. She should settle, but if she doesn’t, I’ve made up a bottle of formula. Her nightclothes are . . .’

‘Will ye stop talking, woman, and hurry up?’ shouted Ron from the pavement. ‘A man could die of thirst the length of time you take to say goodbye.’

‘Don’t worry, Auntie Peggy,’ soothed Jane. ‘I’ve lived here long enough to know the routine. Go and have some fun, and I’ll see you when you get back.’

Peggy kissed them both again and reluctantly went down the steps to where everyone was waiting. She linked arms with Rita and Sarah, and they kept their pace to that of Cordelia and Kitty as they set off for the Anchor.

It was almost midnight by the time Peggy managed to escape once more to her room. She checked on Daisy, who was snuffling contentedly in her cot, and then kicked off her high-heeled pumps and stripped off her clothes.

Leaving them on the floor in a heap, she pulled on her old, faded nightdress, turned off the night-light and clambered into the big, empty bed. There was no more need to keep up the happy façade that she’d struggled to maintain all through the evening. No more need to hold back the tears or keep her emotions under tight control.

Peggy buried her face in the downy pillow, finally able to give in to the bitter, heart-wrenching disappointment. And she let it flow out of her in a great tide of stormy tears.

NINE DAYS HAD
passed since Peggy had received that devastating telegram, and although she’d tried very hard to mask her emotions, Kitty and the other girls were all too aware of how much she was quietly suffering. So when Jim’s letter had arrived assuring her that his week’s leave would definitely begin on the eighteenth of October, they’d all breathed a sigh of relief.

Kitty leaned back in the comfortable leather seat and regarded Roger’s handsome profile as he drove the car through the Berkshire countryside. He was such a dear man, and she did love him so, for he knew how nervous she was about the coming weekend and had taken great pains to make her feel more comfortable about it.

‘Are we there yet?’ asked Freddy, who was sprawled across the back seat, surrounded by the litter of discarded newspapers.

Kitty laughed. ‘You sound like a bored and impatient child,’ she teased. ‘If you bothered to look out of the window, you’d see we are just coming into the village.’

‘Look lively, old chap,’ said Roger as they coasted along the narrow village street and slowed down to negotiate the rather grand driveway where a tiny gatehouse sat to one side. ‘Can’t have the future in-laws thinking you’re a ragamuffin.’

Kitty heard Freddy scuffling about in the back as he pulled on his tweed jacket, straightened his tie and smoothed the creases out of his twill trousers. But she was more interested in seeing the house again, and the beautiful gardens spreading across almost two acres of land.

The imposing Georgian house came into view as the car swept round the final bend. It had originally been a rectory, but with so many rooms to maintain on a tiny stipend, the last incumbent had moved his wife and child to a small cottage on the other side of the church, and the house had been sold.

Cecilia and David Bingham had moved in after their marriage in 1919, and Charlotte had been born in the blue bedroom which overlooked the rose garden at the back of the house. It was the only house Kitty had been in that had a lift, but it had been put in when Cecilia’s elderly mother had become too frail to manage the stairs.

Kitty loved this house, for it had become a second home during her school days, and she gazed with deep affection at the three neat rows of long, elegant windows which surrounded the central stone portico and looked out over the bowling-green-smooth expanse of freshly cut lawn and still colourful flower beds.

The sturdy roof huddled over the top windows where the naked, twisted branches of an ancient wisteria clung to the walls of mellow brick. In the spring they would be smothered with heavily scented purple clusters of blossom, but now the only colour came from the few surviving roses by the front door.

‘That’s the hedge Charlotte and I used to make our camps in,’ she said as she pointed to the right. ‘And that’s the tree we used to climb,’ she added sadly. ‘I wonder what happened to the tree house David had built for us.’

‘Charlotte said it had become rotten and dangerous, so they had it taken down,’ said Freddy, who was at last taking some interest in things.

‘It looks as if we have a welcoming committee,’ said Roger as he drove onto the gravel turning circle and passed the central fountain where a stone merman was forever pouring water from a stone jug.

The front door was open, and Charlotte and her parents waited on the top step. Kitty sat forward eagerly, and then saw they weren’t alone. ‘They aren’t your parents, are they?’ she asked Roger.

‘Well yes, actually, they are,’ he replied with a frown. ‘But I didn’t know they’d be here, I promise.’ His frown deepened. ‘There must have been a change of plan.’

‘Sorry, Kitts,’ drawled Freddy. ‘I forgot to tell you. Cecilia asked them to stay here rather than the dreary hotel they’d booked into.’

‘Really, Freddy,’ Kitty snapped. ‘You are the absolute limit.’