Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (32 page)

One tune was succeeded swiftly by another, and they were both whisked off their feet in a fast foxtrot, followed by a quickstep. Eventually Ivy had had enough of getting her feet trodden on and slipped off to the side to enjoy her beer and get her breath back. She sipped the warm, slightly flat beer and watched the other girls who were still dancing, glad that Sarah had seemed to shake off her gloomy mood and was enjoying herself.

‘Hello, Ivy. D’you want to dance?’

She looked up at the tall, well-built, dark-eyed young man and her heart missed a beat. ‘I’m sitting this one out,’ she said, ‘but you’re welcome to stand and talk to me.’

‘It’s very noisy in ’ere,’ he shouted above the racket. ‘Can we go outside and talk? I find it easier to hear things with less background noise.’ He pointed to the hearing aid in his right ear.

She didn’t want to seem too keen, but Andy Rawlings scrubbed up all right and it would be rude not to go outside with him so he could hear properly. ‘Yeah, all right,’ she replied with studied nonchalance.

They got outside to find that other couples were quietly talking and smooching in the blackout, and feeling a bit awkward, they moved away from the hall and found a low garden wall to perch on.

‘I expect Mrs Reilly told you I called in this afternoon,’ he said, lighting cigarettes for them both. ‘I hope you didn’t mind, Ivy.’

‘Course, not. Why should I?’

His grin lit up his face. ‘So you ain’t bothered then if I was to ask yer out?’

Ivy giggled. ‘A bit fresh, ain’t yer?’

‘A bloke’s got to strike while the iron’s ’ot, Ivy, gel. And I reckon you’re a proper little smasher and no mistake.’

Ivy reddened as her pulse began to race. He was ever so handsome, and that smile of his made her go all unnecessary. ‘You don’t know nothing about me,’ she hedged.

He chuckled. ‘I know you’re spiky and stubborn and brave – and that you’ve got dimples that flash when you smile, and dark brown eyes the colour of chocolate.’

‘Blimey,’ she breathed. ‘You ain’t ’alf got the gift of the gab. D’you use that on all the girls?’

He shook his head. ‘Only on the one I’m really interested in, Ivy.’ He cocked his head, his own brown eyes teasing her. ‘So what about it, gel? You and me stepping out for a bit to see what ’appens next?’

‘I’ll think about it,’ she replied, trying to keep a straight face.

He grinned back at her as the music filtered out to them. ‘Don’t think for too long, gel. Half the night’s wasted already.’

‘You ain’t half got a cheek, Andy Rawlings,’ she chided softly. ‘But I suppose I could see me way to dancing with yer. Just to find out if yer footwork’s as fancy as yer line of chat.’

He stubbed out their cigarettes and, careful of her lightly bandaged hands, helped her to her feet. ‘What we waiting for then? Come on, gel.’

Ivy didn’t protest as he led her back into the hall, and was soon impressed by the way he could dance the jitterbug – but when the band started playing a slow number, she felt a little awkward to be in his arms, for she only reached his midriff.

‘Blimey, gel, what you doin’ all the way down there?’ He lifted her up until they were on a level. ‘That’s better. I can see what you’re thinking from there.’

‘Put me down, you great lump.’ She laughed. ‘People are staring.’

‘Let ’em,’ he said and gave her a broad grin. ‘They’re only jealous ’cos I’ve got the best-looking gel in the place.’

She playfully punched his shoulder. ‘You ain’t ’alf full of it, Andy Rawlings. D’you make it an ’abit to carry girls about?’

‘Only the ones that need rescuing,’ he replied as the music changed and he set her back on her feet to whirl her round in a swift quickstep.

Blimey, thought Ivy joyfully. I found a right one ’ere – but for all ’is north and south, he’s lovely. And to think he first clapped eyes on me looking like a drowned rat in me dungarees. Thank Gawd I look ’alf decent now, or ’e’d think I was a right let-down.

Doreen had left the curtains and the blackout open so she could lie in bed and look at the sky. Clouds were scudding across the moon and veiling the stars, but the RAF bombers had taken off in great numbers from Cliffe some time ago, so she could only assume they were once again on a raid over Germany.

It felt strange to be back in the bed where she’d once slept as a girl. She’d hoped that her homecoming would somehow soften and fade the memories of that tube tunnel, yet, as the girls came home and the house settled down for the night, they remained as graphic as ever. She turned on her side and in the pale green glow of Archie’s watch she looked at his photograph and tried to concentrate on all the good things they’d shared.

Time passed as the watch softly ticked and the moon rose higher in the sky, and despite all her efforts, she was assaulted by flashing images of darkness, of being crushed and unable to breathe – of Archie lying in her arms, already distanced from her by death.

She felt the weight pressing on her chest, the race of her pulse and the cold sweat of fear as the sights, sounds and smells of that night sharpened. Tormented, she reared up and stared out of the window, longing for light, for an end to this torture. When it didn’t come, she threw back the bedclothes, rammed her feet into her slippers and grabbed her dressing gown. She couldn’t stay here, not even if she drew the curtains and turned on the light. She had to move and feel free.

The house was silent but for the usual soft groans of old timbers and gurgling pipes, and she crept down the stairs. There was no sound from Peggy’s room, only the soft glow of the nightlight she kept on for Daisy seeping under the door. Doreen tiptoed across the hall and closed the kitchen door behind her. There was no sign of the animals and she assumed they were both down in the basement with Ron. Not wanting to disturb any of them, she closed the door to the scullery and then switched on the light.

She opened the door to the range fire and quietly poked it back into life, then put the kettle onto the hob. Feeling more relaxed, she silently moved around the kitchen to set the table for breakfast and tidy away Daisy’s toys. She stood for a moment with one of the dolls in her hand, thinking about her own little girls – then, because it made her feel sad, she put the doll away and tidied up the jumble of things strewn across the dresser. There were letters, magazines, old newspapers, recipes, sewing and knitting patterns mixed in with bits of china, a basket of cotton reels and, strangely, a roll of bandaging and a ratty flat cap.

Once this was done she made a pot of tea and sat at the table with the warm cup in her hand, regarding the photographs on Peggy’s cluttered mantelpiece. There was Jim in his uniform with a naughty gleam in his eye, and one of Cissy standing by a staff car and looking very grown-up and sophisticated in her WAAF uniform. Her gaze travelled to the lovely pictures of Anne with her baby and Rose Margaret, and then moved across to the one of Frank and Pauline with their three sons which had been taken before the war. There were separate photos of Seamus and Joseph, who’d been killed, their passing marked by black ribbons tied across the frames.

She gave a deep sigh. There was so much sadness in the world, and at every turn she was reminded of it. When would it end? When would she be able to look at photographs and not feel that terrible ache of loss?

Determinedly closing off these thoughts, she looked at the snapshots which had clearly been taken in the back garden of Beach View. She recognised Cordelia, Rita, Fran and Sarah, but the other girls must have been evacuees who’d since moved on. They looked like a happy bunch, just like the girls who were living here now. But they too had been touched by sorrow, and the terrible anxiety of not knowing what tomorrow might bring.

Doreen sipped the tea, comforted by the warmth of the fire and the soft light coming from the low-watt bulb hanging above the table. Her thoughts drifted to Ivy, who’d seemed very cheerful considering what she’d been through so recently, and she wondered if it was simply youthful resilience, or if she was merely playing the part as she herself had done over the past awful week.

Just then, as if her thoughts had conjured her up, Ivy came creeping through the kitchen door. Seeing Doreen, she hesitated. ‘Sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I didn’t know you were in ’ere. D’you want me to leave?’

‘Not at all,’ she whispered back. ‘But shut the door. We don’t want to disturb Peggy.’

Ivy closed the door carefully and then went to fetch a cup. Once she’d poured the tea, she sipped it thoughtfully. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she said finally. ‘Was it the same for you?’

Doreen nodded. ‘Awful nightmares,’ she confessed. ‘And sort of flashing images of things.’

‘Me too. Awful, ain’t it? D’you think it will stop after a while?’

‘I hope so, Ivy.’ Doreen reached into her dressing-gown pocket and drew out a packet of Park Drive and Archie’s lighter. She offered one to Ivy and they smoked in silence for a while, each with their own thoughts.

‘Did you have a good time tonight?’

Ivy grinned. ‘Yeah, it were blindin’. Danced me feet off, I did.’

‘Was a certain young fireman there?’

Ivy blushed scarlet. ‘Yeah, he were all right too.’

‘Peggy thought you’d get on,’ said Doreen with a wan smile. ‘Which is why she told him where you’d be this evening.’

Ivy giggled. ‘Gawd ’elp us. I might’ve known she couldn’t leave well alone.’

‘Peggy’s got a soft heart and an eye for a romance. She means well, so don’t be too hard on her.’ Doreen regarded the young girl sitting opposite her with interest. She might only be eighteen, but there was a sense of steely strength in that skinny frame, and a determined tilt to her chin as if she saw the world around her as a challenge to be faced and vanquished.

‘I understand you were billeted with my sister Doris,’ she said into the silence. At Ivy’s nod, she continued, ‘Peggy and I often wondered if she was even related to us when we were kids. She was simply awful then, and I gather she still is.’

‘She’s a snooty cow,’ said Ivy and then reddened. ‘Sorry, but she is.’

‘Yes, I know,’ Doreen replied calmly. ‘She and I have never got on, and I’m actually rather dreading seeing her again. She has a way of making me feel like a naughty kid to be talked down to and bossed about.’

Ivy’s gaze was level and contemplative. ‘I reckon you won’t take no nonsense from her – not now,’ she said. ‘You got enough on yer plate without lettin’ her get under yer skin.’ She gave a trembling sigh and stubbed out her cigarette. ‘I thought I were managing all right,’ she confessed, ‘and it were lovely tonight with the girls and Andy and all, but …’

Doreen reached across the table and stilled her agitated fingers. ‘Why don’t you tell me about it, Ivy?’

The brown eyes were glistening with unshed tears as she looked back at her. ‘Only if you tell me what ’appened to you.’

Doreen nodded. ‘That sounds fair.’

As Ivy began to relate her story, Ron moved away from the door and quietly went back down the concrete steps to his bedroom. Climbing into bed, he listened to the purring kitten and the snoring dog which were curled up beside him, and smiled contentedly. Doreen and Ivy would begin to understand and accept what had happened to them after tonight – and the healing process could begin. It was wonderful how fate often brought people together at just the right time.

The other girls had already left for work, and Peggy noticed that Ivy was looking quite bright this morning, despite the fact she and Doreen couldn’t have gone back to bed until well past three. She handed her the tin box of sandwiches and flask of tea that she’d prepared for her lunch and smiled as the girl ran down the garden path, eager for her day’s work. Ivy might be as small and skinny as a sparrow, but she was a spirited little thing. She’d come through just fine.

‘And how are you after your late night, Doreen? I wasn’t expecting to see you until at least lunchtime.’

‘Oh, Peg, we didn’t wake you, did we?’

Peggy had heard them come down and had listened momentarily at the door to find out who it was in her kitchen. Discovering it was Ivy and her sister, she’d stifled her instinct to go in and offer her support, and gone back to bed.

She grinned as she poured tea for Cordelia and began to spoon boiled egg into Daisy’s mouth. ‘The fourth stair up from the hall squeaks, so I always know if someone’s moving about.’

‘Goodness,’ breathed Doreen. ‘You should get Ron to fix it.’

‘No fear. That squeak has been there since Mum and Dad first bought the place. They used it to alert them to any goings-on, and so do I.’

‘Well, I never knew that,’ said Doreen. ‘To think of all the years I’d gone up and down those stairs … Still, this old place creaks all on its own, which is probably why I never noticed that stair.’

Peggy eyed her sister, who was definitely looking a bit brighter this morning, although there were signs that she’d been crying. ‘Did talking to Ivy help in any way?’

Doreen put down her slice of toast and nodded. ‘She’s been a tremendous help, actually. Made me see that I’m not alone and that together we can share our nightmares and talk them through so they lose their power and we can see them for what they are. She understood, you see, because she’s been through it.’

‘Aye, ’tis always a good thing to talk,’ said Ron, dropping an inedible crust of wheatmeal bread into Harvey’s ever-open mouth. ‘Not that I’m one for encouraging women to talk, you understand. They do too much of it, if you ask me – and it’s usually all nonsense.’

He must have seen the warning glint in the eyes of the three women, for he winked and wriggled his brows. ‘But talking is good when it comes to things like that, and I’m glad you’ve got Ivy to help you through.’

‘We’re helping each other,’ said Doreen. ‘I might be old enough to be her mother but that doesn’t seem to make any difference, and last night, I do believe we became friends.’ She finished her slice of toast and sipped her tea.

‘Well, I’m glad of that,’ said Peggy. ‘Friendship is very important, especially at times like these.’

Silence fell as they all finished their breakfast and Harvey mopped up the crumbs and bits of eggy bread from beneath Daisy’s high chair. Queenie was doing her Greta Garbo act, sitting alone on the rug by the fire and studiously ignoring them all.