The Clippie Girls (37 page)

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Authors: Margaret Dickinson

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas, #Historical, #Romance, #20th Century, #General

BOOK: The Clippie Girls
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‘Is Peggy home yet?’ Rose asked.

‘No,’ Grace replied, pursing her lips. ‘How she can go to work when—’

‘We had all that out last night, Gran. Leave her be. It’s her way of coping.’ She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘Maybe she’s right,’ she said slowly. ‘Maybe we are on a wild goose chase. Like she said, whoever’s got him’s not going to be parading him through the streets, are they?’

‘They’ll have to go out some time,’ Grace argued. ‘Besides, we’ve got to keep doing something.’

‘Yes, that’s how I feel.’

Myrtle said nothing, but washed her hands at the sink in the kitchen and then sat down at the table. Grace placed a plate of food in front of her. The girl sighed. ‘It looks lovely, Gran, but I really don’t think I can eat a thing.’

‘Just try, love. That’s all I ask. Your mam was right. You’ve all got to eat and we mustn’t waste it, else I’ll have the Ministry of Food knocking at the door. Besides,’ she added with a wry smile, ‘it gives me summat to do all day.’

Rose sat down too and the two girls tried to eat.

‘Where are Mam and Mrs Bradshaw?’ Rose asked, picking at her food, but managing to eat a little.

‘No idea, but they should be back soon.’

‘Is Mr Bradshaw going out again tonight?’

‘I don’t know. Trouble is, she’s not going to be out with him at night, now is she?’

‘I suppose not.’

They heard the front door opening and closing and a moment later, Mary came into the room. Immediately all eyes turned towards her, but she shook her head as she said, ‘No, nothing. And I take it there’s no news here either.’

She took their silence to be a negative answer and sighed. As she sat down she said, ‘I ran into Mrs Deeton today, Rose. Bob is still asking for you to visit him.’

Rose gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘Doesn’t he realize I’ve more important things on my mind just now?’

‘It might do you good to get out for a bit. Why don’t you go round tonight? There’s nothing more you can do here.’

‘But what if there’s news? What if—?’

‘I’ll come running to find you,’ Myrtle promised. ‘I know where the Deetons live.’

‘Have they found him?’ were Mrs Deeton’s first words when she opened the door to Rose.

Rose pressed her lips together and shook her head.

‘Oh, my dear. Come in, come in. Bob’s through here.’

He was sitting by the fire in an armchair, his injured leg resting on a footstool.

‘Rose!’ His face lit up at the sight of her and there could be no mistaking his delight in seeing her, but his expression sobered when he saw the bleak, desperate look on her face. ‘I’m so sorry to hear what’s happened. Is there any news at all?’

‘Nothing.’

She sat down opposite him and tried to focus on him. ‘How are you, Bob?’

‘Much better, thanks. The leg’s healing nicely now it’s getting proper attention. Trouble is – ’ he made a weak attempt at humour – ‘once it’s better, I’ll have to go back.’

Mrs Deeton placed a tray of tea and biscuits on the table and then made an excuse that she had something to do upstairs, though Rose realized it was a ploy to leave them alone together.

‘How’ve you been, Rose? I mean, until this awful business with Freddie.’

She didn’t answer immediately as she poured the tea and handed him a cup. Then she met his gaze. ‘Peggy let me read your letter to her. Did you mean what you said?’

The cup trembled slightly in the saucer as he took it from her. ‘Every word, Rose. I know now that I don’t love Peggy. I did once, but she obviously doesn’t love me. Never did, else she wouldn’t have gone off with that soldier so – so easily.’

Rose sat down but remained silent as Bob went on, stumbling to find the right words.

‘What she did sort of – killed it for me. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she’d said earlier that she wanted us just to be friends, but she let me think there was more in it. And then to – to get herself pregnant—’ He stopped, fearing he was saying too much to the girl’s sister.

‘I know what you mean,’ Rose said softly. ‘When she jilted you, I wouldn’t speak to her and then when we found out she was expecting, well, the whole family cut her off.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘All of us except Mam.’

‘But things changed when he was born, did they?’

‘Not immediately, but you can’t go on being resentful of an innocent baby, can you?’

‘I – suppose not.’

Rose blinked and stared at him. ‘But you were willing to marry her? Willing to take him on as your own? Because that’s what everyone would have thought. That Freddie was yours.’

‘I know. And I was a fool to make the offer. It would never have worked. I couldn’t ever have looked upon him as my own. I know that now. And always there would have been the shadow of the soldier between us. Peggy was right to say no. It wouldn’t have worked. And thank God she did, because – ’ he looked straight into Rose’s eyes – ‘I have feelings for someone else now.’

Rose stared at him and her heart sank. He’d met someone already. Someone who worked in the NAAFI or for ENSA or –

‘Rose – you told me once you loved me. Is that still true? Or have I lost my chance with you because I was stupid enough to offer to marry Peggy?’

It was what she had longed to hear him say. For years she had carried the secret of her love for him and now, at what should have been the happiest moment of her life, it was clouded with the overriding worry of Freddie’s disappearance. Nothing – not even hearing that there could be hope for her with Bob – could obliterate her terror that something dreadful had happened to their darling boy.

‘Oh, Bob!’ Tears filled her eyes and then poured down her cheeks. ‘Of course I do, but just now I can’t think of anything else except trying to find Freddie.’

He leaned forward awkwardly because of his outstretched leg and touched her hand. ‘I understand,’ he said gently. ‘Drink your tea and then off you go because I can see you’re like a cat on hot bricks. Go back home, but keep us posted, won’t you, if there’s any news? Whatever time of day or night it is, come and tell us.’

She finished her tea quickly and hurried away. There’d be so much to think about, to talk about, but for now nothing else mattered except Freddie.

Forty-Five

It was gone ten and Mary was trying to get both Myrtle and Rose to go to bed. Peggy was already in her dressing gown and filling her hot-water bottle in the kitchen. She didn’t really need it, but its warmth was comforting.

‘You look done in, the pair of you,’ Mary said. ‘Now, I really think you should go to work tomorrow, Rose, and Myrtle, you should start getting yourself organized for going to university.’

‘Mam, I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I’d be a danger to my passengers.’

‘Nor could I,’ Myrtle said firmly. ‘I can’t even begin to think about that.’ She avoided meeting her mother’s candid gaze. ‘Please – don’t make me.’ The girl’s voice broke and she pressed her hand to her mouth.

‘Very well then,’ Mary said with a sigh. ‘Now off you go upstairs and—’

A loud knocking on the front door made them all jump. Rose was the first to rush out of the room, flinging open the door, oblivious to the blackout precautions. Mary and Myrtle were close behind her and Grace had struggled out of her chair to follow them. Peggy stood in the doorway to the kitchen, hugging her hot-water bottle close to her chest.

‘Mr Bower? What on earth are you doing here? Oh – what’s happened? Is there news?’

The poor man seemed flustered by the pairs of eyes staring at him. ‘I – er – just wondered how you all are.’ He ran his tongue nervously around his lips. ‘And I – er – just wanted a word with – um – your mother.’

Rose gave a click of exasperation and before she could bite back the words, blurted out, ‘We’ve all got enough to think about just now, without you coming courting—’

She felt her mother’s restraining hand on her arm. ‘That’s enough, Rose. You go in. All of you. I’ll have a word with – Mr Bower.’ She smiled at him, though the sadness and the anxiety never left her eyes, not even for a second. ‘Please come in.’

The rest of the family turned away in disappointment. For a fleeting moment, when the knock had come at the door, their hopes had been raised, only to be cruelly dashed. Mary closed the front door and when they were alone in the hallway, she murmured, ‘I’m so sorry about Rose’s outburst. We’re all overwrought and—’

‘Never mind about that.’ He, too, was agitated. ‘Mary, I need to you to come with me. Now. Right away.’

‘Oh, but, Laurence, I can’t. I can’t leave the family just now and, besides, I can think of nothing else but Freddie.’

‘It’s about Freddie. I think I might know where he is.’

Mary gasped, her eyes widened and her hand fluttered to her mouth, but before she could utter a word Laurence touched her arm. ‘Don’t tell the others. Not yet. I don’t want to raise their hopes, because until we get there I can’t be sure.’

‘Where? Who—?’

‘I’ll explain everything as we go, but just hurry. It wouldn’t be right for me to go on my own. Not – ’ his mouth twitched with wry humour – ‘as my dear mother would have said, “seemly”.’

‘I must just tell—’

‘No, don’t. They’ll only ask questions or think we’re – well, I don’t know what they might think. Just come with me, Mary. Just trust me.’

She looked into his eyes and despite the desperation she and her family were feeling, she knew that she could trust Laurence Bower completely. She nodded. ‘I’ll come with you.’ And in those few simple words was a world of meaning. She would go anywhere, any time, with Laurence. He only had to ask.

Quietly they let themselves out of the front door and once they were safely out of earshot of the rest of the family, he said, ‘Sergeant Baxter’s waiting a little way up the street with a car.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘Just trust me, Mary,’ he said again. ‘I may be entirely wrong, so don’t get your hopes up.’

There was no time for more questions for they’d reached the waiting car and the sergeant standing beside it. He opened one of the rear doors for Mary and Laurence to climb in. Laurence sat beside her whilst the sergeant drove, but neither of them seemed willing to enlighten her. The journey passed in total silence, but she was comforted by Laurence reaching for her hand and holding it tightly. Sergeant Baxter wound his way through the streets of the city but at last he drew the car to a halt in a narrow, terraced street.

‘Is this it, Mr Bower?’

‘Yes, number thirty-three.’

‘Right then. I’ll park here and we’ll walk down. And so’s not to frighten her, you and Mrs Sylvester go to the door. I’ll stand to one side, out of sight when she opens it.’

‘Laurence, what—?’

He squeezed her hand. ‘It’ll be all right, Mary. But we must just do what the sergeant tells us.’

They all got out of the car and walked a few yards down the street to find number thirty-three. Now it was Mary who was clutching Laurence’s hand. The sergeant hung back, staying out of the sight of anyone who might open the door. With a nod from Sergeant Baxter, Laurence knocked on the door. They waited, Mary biting her lip, wondering what exactly was going on.

They heard a noise behind the door and then it opened a few inches and Mary gasped out loud to see who was standing there.

‘She’s gone out,’ Rose reported to the family, when she’d opened the living-room door to find the hallway deserted. ‘With Mr Bower. What on earth is she thinking of at a time like this?’

‘You went round to see Bob,’ Myrtle reminded her and earned herself a resentful glare from her sister.

‘Now, now, you two,’ Grace admonished. ‘Myrtle, it’s high time you were in bed.’

‘I’m not going anywhere until Mam gets back.’

‘Me neither,’ Rose said and sat down beside the younger girl, siding with her. Peggy was sitting staring into space, still hugging her hot-water bottle. She couldn’t believe what was happening. She’d fallen in love with Terry so quickly and so completely. She’d never thought for one moment that he didn’t feel the same way about her. But he’d gone away and there’d been no word from him since. Nothing. Maybe he’d been sent abroad. Perhaps he’d been taken prisoner or worse . . . She shuddered. If that were true, then the only part she had left of their passionate love for each other was little Freddie.

Oblivious to Peggy’s unhappy thoughts, Grace sighed. ‘She could be ages,’ she reasoned, but she no longer had the strength to argue with her granddaughters. She felt suddenly old, the terror of what might have happened to her beloved great-grandson eating away at her. To think that she had almost turned Peggy out into the street when she’d learned of her unwanted pregnancy, that she might never have had the joy of holding him in her arms, of loving him. It was all too much. She struggled to her feet. ‘I’m going to bed.’

Mary stared at the frightened face of the woman standing in front of her and then it all fell into place. She knew now why Laurence had felt unable to come here on his own to follow up his suspicions, why he’d needed her – a woman – to be there and, also, why Sergeant Baxter had come too. And she understood too Laurence’s reasoning. Why on earth hadn’t she or her family thought of it? But such a thing would never have crossed their minds, yet now it seemed such a simple explanation.

‘Alice!’ she whispered. ‘Oh, Alice.’

The young woman’s eyes widened and she tried to shut the door again, but Laurence’s sturdy boot was in the gap. ‘It’s all right, love,’ he said gently. ‘Just let us in.’

She hesitated a moment, but then, with a defeated gesture, Alice turned away, leaving the door open for them to follow.

As she stepped directly into the front room, from somewhere further inside the house, Mary heard the cry of a baby.

Forty-Six

‘You’ll have to knock,’ Mary whispered when, at last, they were back home and standing outside her own front door. She laughed softly, ‘We went off in such a rush, I forgot my key.’

It was Rose, still fully dressed, who opened the door to see her mother standing there carrying a tiny figure, wrapped warmly in a blue shawl, in her arms. Laurence was beside her and behind them both stood a beaming Sergeant Baxter. Myrtle appeared, peering anxiously over Rose’s shoulder and, from the top of the stairs, came Grace’s querulous voice. ‘What’s going on? What’s all the knocking? What’s happened?’

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