Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (30 page)

Doreen’s smile was wan. ‘So, he’s still courting the glamorous Rosie, is he? Any sign of a wedding yet?’

Peggy sighed. ‘Sadly, no. Her husband is still alive and committed in that asylum. But they seem happy enough with the way things are for the time being – although I think Ron is getting a bit frustrated by it all.’

‘She’s still keeping him at arm’s length, then?’

‘It seems so, and I think it’s a shame. They’re wasting the chance to really be together, and with the way things are …’

Doreen nodded and stared beyond her sister to the far window where the fields were burgeoning with the spring crops and Land Army girls were wielding hoes to clear the weeds.

Peggy took the opportunity to study her more closely. She’d lost weight – but then so had everyone as the rationing tightened – and there were shadows of tiredness and grief beneath her eyes. Her skin had lost its glow, and her dark, curly hair seemed dull beneath that black hat. There were also signs that Doreen was at the very end of her tether, for there was a tic in her cheek, one of her eyelids kept twitching and her hands fiddled constantly with her handbag.

Peggy’s heart went out to her, for this was the little sister she adored. She’d gone through so much over the years, and this last bitter blow must have almost broken her. She took her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. ‘We’ll soon be home,’ she murmured. ‘And when you’re rested and feeling a bit stronger, we can talk.’

Doreen shook her head. ‘I don’t want to talk, Peggy. It just makes everything worse.’

‘Ron told me what you’ve been through,’ Peggy said quietly, ‘so we do understand how hard it will be to come to terms with.’

Doreen’s eyes widened. ‘How does he know? We were all told to say nothing, and there’s been just a paragraph about it in the papers.’

‘He has friends everywhere and one of them told him.’ Peggy gripped Doreen’s hand. ‘He understands better than most what you must be feeling – don’t forget, Dorry, he was in the trenches and the tunnels during the first shout.’

Doreen remained silent as she stared out of the window and saw the familiar countryside of rolling hills, patchwork fields and snatched glimpses of the sea. She knew that talking it over with Peggy probably would help, but at the moment she simply couldn’t find the words to express the horror and the anguish she was still experiencing.

‘Do you remember I told you about that air raid on the factory estate?’ At Doreen’s nod, Peggy continued. ‘Well, one of my girls was caught up in that. I won’t go into detail now, but her experience was very much like yours, and Ron is encouraging her to talk about it. He seems to think it’s better to talk it out than keep it all inside – and I have to agree with him.’

Doreen looked at her with eyes dulled by pain. ‘What happened to her?’

Peggy hadn’t really wanted to say too much, but realised that if her sister was ever to get over her experience then it was best to bring everything out in the open right at the start. She quietly related what Ivy had told her, and what she herself had witnessed.

Doreen’s face was paler than ever as she listened, and her eyes sparkled with tears. ‘Poor girl,’ she murmured. ‘She must have been terrified – and to see such things …’

‘She’s only eighteen,’ said Peggy, ‘but she’s like you – resilient. You’ll both come through this, I know you will.’

‘Poor Peggy,’ Doreen sighed. ‘You do take on a lot, don’t you?’

‘It’s no burden,’ she said with a small shrug. ‘I’m not working on a factory floor or digging for victory – or even manning guns or doing a turn on fire-watch – but in my own small way I do what I can for those I love.’

Despite everything, Doreen felt a tingle of excitement and pleasure as the train came out of the tunnel running beneath the sheltering hills that surrounded Cliffehaven and she saw the familiar sidings and platform.

Peggy pulled the strap to open the window and leaned out. She waved and then hurried to collect her gas-mask box and handbag. ‘We’ve got a reception committee,’ she said.

‘Who?’ Doreen was wary, for she didn’t really feel up to any fuss.

‘Fred the Fish, Ron, and of course, Stan.’

Doreen frowned. ‘But how did they know when we’d be coming?’

‘I telephoned home from your billet. Phyllis was very accommodating.’

As they waited for the train to stop, Doreen saw the familiar stationmaster’s cottage, and the not so familiar tubs and beds of flourishing vegetables lining the platform. Stan was clearly taking to heart the decree to dig for victory – but then he’d always loved gardening, and she remembered the many pleasant hours she’d spent as a youngster on his allotment.

Her thoughts turned to more practical things. ‘How are we going to get everything back to Beach View?’

‘That’s where Fred the Fish comes in,’ replied Peggy. ‘He kindly agreed for us to use his van.’

The train hissed steam as it rolled to a stop, and smoke curled past the window. Peggy opened the door and stepped down, and Doreen followed. As the smoke cleared she saw the three sturdy-looking men standing on the platform and recognised them instantly, but it was to Ron’s open arms that she was drawn. She felt the strength of him as he held her tightly, and the rasp of his bristled chin as he kissed her cheek, and when she stepped back from the embrace, it was as if she’d never been away.

‘I see you’re still avoiding the barbers,’ she gently chided.

He wiggled his wayward brows, his blue eyes twinkling. ‘To be sure you haven’t changed, you wee tease. It’s good to see you, Dorry. It’s been too long.’

She was hugged by Stan and Fred, who then rushed off to collect her luggage from the guard’s van under Peggy’s supervision. Doreen watched for a moment and then turned back to Ron. ‘Where’s Harvey?’ she asked.

‘He’s under strict orders to mind the house,’ he replied. ‘You’ll see him when you get home.’

A movement at the end of the platform caught her eye and she chuckled. ‘I think we’ll see him sooner than that.’

Harvey came hurtling towards them and then threw himself at Doreen, his paws on her shoulders as he tried to lick her face.

Doreen pushed him down and made a tremendous fuss of him as he squirmed in delight. ‘Yes, Harvey, it’s lovely to see you – and you haven’t changed a bit. You’re still a disobedient old thing, aren’t you?’ she said fondly.

‘He’s a heathen beast, so he is,’ said Ron without rancour, ‘but it beats me how he knew where we were.’

‘I expect he followed the scent of Fred’s fish van,’ said Peggy as she pushed the bicycle towards them. ‘That nose will get him into trouble one day, you mark my words.’

As the banter went back and forth Doreen felt as if she’d never been away, but when they emerged from the station she realised that a great deal had changed in the intervening years. The lovely old ticket hall was gone, as was the waiting room. There were ugly gaps between the shops and elegant buildings in the High Street, and looking up the hill to the north, she could see the sprawl of factories where once there had been green fields.

Once Harvey had been settled in the back of the van along with the bike and the cases, Fred slammed the back doors and squeezed his large frame behind the wheel. With Peggy beside him and Doreen squashed up against Ron, they waved goodbye to Stan and set off down the High Street.

Doreen could smell the fish that had been carried in this van over the years, and it reminded her of when she’d earned pocket money by helping him to deliver it around the town every Saturday morning. She looked out of the window as they passed the rubble that had once been the Odeon cinema where Jim had worked, and the remains of Woolworths where she’d spent that pocket money. There were high stacks of sandbags in front of the Town Hall and the council buildings, and the lovely old church on the corner by Havelock Gardens had been reduced to a pile of shattered stone.

As the van turned into Camden Road she noticed other changes, for the small clothing factory had been greatly enlarged, and both the school and the block of flats next to it were nothing more than an unsightly bomb site. But the Lilac tearoom was still there, as were the hospital, the fire station, the Anchor and the short parade of shops. Childhood memories flooded back, and she saw herself skipping down the street to do the shopping for her mother, and going eagerly to school, plaits flying as she joined in with games of hopscotch.

Fred ground the gears as they came to a stop at the crossroads, and the van stuttered a bit as it went up the steep hill and finally came to a halt at the end of the narrow twitten that ran between the backs of the tall terraced houses.

‘I hope Cordelia’s got the kettle on,’ said Peggy as Fred unloaded the bike and Ron grabbed the cases, while Harvey raced towards the back gate. ‘I could murder a cuppa.’

Doreen dumped her bag and gas-mask box into the basket and wheeled the bike along the twitten, the memories coming rapidly one after the other. She’d been about ten or eleven when Peggy and Jim had taken over Beach View, and she’d walked with Ron and his old dog Rex along here on their way to the hills where he’d shown her badgers’ setts and foxes’ dens. Earlier memories were of her father, who would stand by the back gate smoking his pipe as he waited for her to come home from school – and of her mother at the kitchen window, always ready with a hug and something nice to eat. They were good memories, and she held them close, knowing they would help her get through the coming days.

‘Are you all right, Dorry?’ asked Peggy as they reached the back gate.

‘Yes, I’m fine. It’s good to be home.’ She followed Ron and Fred down the garden path, noting the Anderson shelter, and how the lawn had been turned into a vegetable patch. The outside lav had been rebuilt and a chicken coop was now where her old swing had once stood, but the washing line still stretched across the garden, and the ugly coal bunker remained against the back wall of the house.

She left the bike beneath the tarpaulin shelter that stood under the kitchen window and then followed Peggy through the door and up the scullery steps to the kitchen. It was the same as she remembered it, slightly shabby and cluttered, but homely and warm and very welcoming.

‘Hello, Dorry. It’s lovely to have you home again,’ said Cordelia as the men carried the cases through and up the stairs.

Doreen gave her a gentle hug, the scent of her lavender perfume so familiar and reassuring – and yet it was difficult not to feel sad at how crippled her hands were, and to realise she was smaller and more birdlike than ever. ‘It’s wonderful to be back, Cordelia,’ she murmured. ‘Are you well?’

The bright blue eyes twinkled. ‘Never better now you’re back in the fold. It’ll be good to have someone else to sort out that old scallywag.’ Cordelia glanced across as Ron came back into the kitchen and rolled her eyes. ‘He’s as naughty now as he ever was – a bit like his dog, really.’

Doreen smiled as Harvey collapsed with a grunt on the rug in front of the range, and then she caught sight of the little girl standing in the playpen. ‘Daisy? Oh, my goodness, look at you!’ She lifted the child out and gave her a hug, the sharp memories of her own little girls tugging at her heart. ‘I can’t believe how much she’s grown since you sent that last photograph,’ she said to Peggy.

‘She’s walking too now,’ Peggy replied proudly. She turned to Fred. ‘Stay and have a cuppa, Fred. You’ve earned it after being so kind today.’

‘Thanks, Peggy, but I’ve got to get back to the shop.’ He tipped a wink at Doreen. ‘If you find yourself at a loose end, Dorry, there’s always some fish to wash and prepare.’

Doreen chuckled. ‘I think my days as a fishmonger’s assistant are over, Fred. But I’ll certainly pop in for a natter.’

Peggy made the tea and they sat round the table as Daisy tottered back and forth to show Doreen her toys. ‘Where’s the kitten?’ she asked.

‘Asleep on my bed,’ rumbled Ron. ‘It seems she’s taken a liking to it, so she has.’

‘She’s about the only one who would,’ said Cordelia with a shudder. ‘That room of yours is nothing better than a pigsty.’

Peggy interrupted before the banter got too heated. ‘I thought it was best for you to have your old room, Dorry,’ she said. ‘The other girls are in two of the doubles, but of course you could have one of the others if you’d prefer,’ she said hastily. ‘That back bedroom is a bit small.’

‘No. My old room would be perfect,’ Doreen said softly. ‘I suppose the others are at work?’

‘I don’t know where Ivy is,’ said Peggy, ‘but the others will be home for their tea in an hour or so.’

‘Ivy’s gone up to the factory estate to see if she can get a job,’ said Ron.

‘But it’s far too soon,’ protested Peggy, ‘and her hands are still very sore.’

Ron shrugged. ‘It’s Ivy’s choice, Peg. She’s dealing with things in her own way.’

Doreen sipped her tea and let the conversation go on around her. She was bone-weary, and although these were the people she loved, she needed time to herself after the long day. She waited until there was a lull and said, ‘I think I’ll just go up, to sort out my things and get settled in. I’ll be down again soon to help with supper.’

Peggy nodded and smiled. ‘Take your time, love.’

Doreen went upstairs to the back room at the top of the house. Closing the door behind her, she leaned against it for a moment and then went to the window. She looked down at the garden and then across the rooftops to the hills. The view had hardly changed and it was comforting.

She regarded the bedroom where she’d slept for so many years. It too was just the same, the old furniture gleaming with the beeswax polish that scented the air, the faded dark stain still marking the ceiling where a gutter had leaked many years before. The eiderdown and bedspread were faded, as were the curtains – and the same rather badly executed watercolour of Cliffehaven’s seafront that had been painted by one of the boarding house guests still hung above the chest of drawers.

She sat on the narrow single bed where she’d dreamt of all the wonderful things she’d achieve once she was adult enough to leave home and strike out on her own. Her smile was wry as she watched the gulls swoop and hover over the rooftops. She had been in such a tearing hurry to grow up and leave Cliffehaven, and had indeed achieved some of her dreams. Yet now she was older, perhaps wiser – and certainly battered by experience – she knew that none of it could have been possible without those early years of love and support.