While We're Apart (39 page)

‘I'm expecting Mary over later,' she told Cordelia, who was sitting at the table with a freshly brewed pot of tea and the tin of Canadian biscuits in front of her. ‘Would it be awfully cheeky to ask if we could have just a couple of those biscuits to go with our tea?'

Cordelia raised her eyebrows. ‘You and she are welcome to as many biscuits as you want. Goodness me, Peggy. You should know better than to even ask.' She eyed her thoughtfully. ‘You're up to something,' she said. ‘I can always tell.'

Peggy kept her gaze averted as she poured out the tea. ‘Mary and I just need to discuss something privately, so I've lit the fire in the other room.'

‘Private, eh? It must be serious.' Cordelia's blue eyes twinkled. ‘I suppose you aren't going to let me in on the secret, are you?'

Cordelia couldn't keep a secret for more than a few minutes, and would have made a terrible poker player but Peggy didn't tell her so. ‘I'm sorry, Cordelia, not this time,' she said gently. ‘But I would appreciate it if you could keep the girls out of the dining room once she arrives.'

Cordelia nodded, kept her thoughts to herself and plucked a biscuit from the tin.

As Mary ate her supper, Doris's natural nosiness led to a barrage of questions which she managed to circumnavigate by being non-committal and vague. When the meal was over, she escaped to the kitchen to do the washing-up and make the coffee.

‘I will be staying at Peggy's tonight,' she told Doris as she took the coffee in to her in the drawing room.

‘You have a perfectly good bedroom here,' she replied frostily. ‘I don't see why it should be necessary.'

‘It's very dark and I shall be quite late, I suspect,' she replied. ‘And after that man accosted me the other day, I don't feel safe walking home on my own.'

Doris seemed to accept this explanation and to Mary's great relief, made no more objections. By the time she'd packed her nightwear and washbag Doris was talking on the telephone, so she waved goodbye and hurried out of the door.

The trees on either side of the street creaked ominously as they swayed in the wind and hid the pale moon that appeared infrequently from behind scudding clouds. Feeling tense and all too aware of her solitary footsteps, Mary walked quickly towards Peggy's, her mind working on the short conversation they'd had on the telephone, and what it might mean.

She was walking along Camden Road when a movement across the street caught her eye, and she saw a man step out from the Anchor doorway. She hesitated and slowed to a stop. There was something about him that looked familiar – and as he struck a match to light his cigarette she felt a jolt of shock. It was the man from the station.

She looked wildly around, saw an alleyway and darted down it into the deep shadows cast by the buildings on either side. She pressed against the wall, her heart hammering so loudly she was certain he would hear it.

As she watched him smoke his cigarette, he turned towards the sound of light footsteps hurrying towards him and squared his shoulders as if preparing to face someone who posed a challenge.

‘You're late, Eileen,' he said as the woman reached him. ‘I thought you'd changed your mind and weren't coming.'

‘I very nearly didn't,' she replied as she raised her chin and looked at him almost defiantly. ‘But there's something very important that I have to tell you. Once I've done that, I don't want to see or speak to you again. Is that understood?'

He nodded and mashed out his cigarette beneath his shoe before they walked away from the Anchor towards the High Street.

Mary waited until she couldn't hear their footfalls, and then emerged from her hiding place and hurried on towards Beach View. Whoever she was, the woman certainly had the measure of that man, for he'd lost his swagger as they'd walked away.

Peggy opened the door. ‘Hello, dear,' she said warmly. ‘Come in quickly, so I can turn the light on. My goodness, it's cold and black out there, isn't it?'

As Mary stepped inside and put down her case, Peggy was distressed to see that she was shivering quite badly. ‘Keep your coat on for a bit. I've lit the fire in the dining room, but it hasn't really warmed up properly yet.' She turned on the light and frowned. ‘You look very pale, dear. Are you all right?'

‘I'm fine, really. I've just had a bit of a fright, that's all.'

Peggy didn't like the sound of that at all, so she put her arm round Mary's trembling shoulders and drew her towards the dining room. ‘Let's get you warmed up with a cup of tea, and then you can tell me all about it,' she soothed.

Peggy was pleased at how cosy the large room looked in the flickering light from the fire and the warm glow of the standard lamp in the corner. She pressed Mary down into one of the armchairs, and pulled the other one closer to it.

Mary held her trembling hands out to the fire. ‘It's silly really to get frightened over nothing,' she said almost apologetically. ‘I expect it was because it was dark, and I was on my own.'

Peggy poured tea from the large brown pot, handed Mary the cup and nudged the plate of Cordelia's chocolate biscuits nearer to her. ‘I don't think it's silly at all,' she replied gently. ‘The night changes things with all its shadows and strange noises. Why don't you tell me about it, then it won't seem so scary.'

As Mary sipped the tea, she told Peggy haltingly about the man from the station accosting her, and how she'd panicked and hidden in the alley when she'd seen him come out of the Anchor.

‘He was met by some woman he called Eileen,' she continued, ‘and by the sound of it, they didn't like each other at all.' She gave a tremulous smile. ‘Her manner certainly wiped that sleazy grin off his face, and he'd lost his swagger as they walked off down the street.'

Peggy felt her blood run cold, and it took a great deal of effort to keep her expression bland. To hide her inner turmoil, she drank her tea and asked with studied casualness, ‘What did this man look like?'

Mary grimaced. ‘Middle-aged, with light brown hair and very blue eyes. He was flashily dressed and obviously regards himself as a bit of a ladykiller. Personally,' she added, ‘I think he's a bit of a spiv.'

Her accurate description left absolutely no doubt, and Peggy had to clear the lump in her throat before she could speak. ‘It sounds like Tommy Findlay,' she said. ‘And you're right; he is all the things you said. Unfortunately, he's like a bad penny and keeps turning up here in Cliffehaven to stay with his sister.' She reached across and took the girl's hand. ‘Now, I don't want you making more of this than is necessary, Mary, but Tommy is Rosie Braithwaite's younger brother, and he will be around for at least the next six months.'

Mary paled, and her blue eyes were huge in her little face as she stared in horror at Peggy. ‘But that means he'll be in the Anchor,' she breathed, ‘and I won't be able to visit Rosie or play the piano or . . .'

‘Of course you will,' said Peggy firmly. ‘Rosie knows full well what her brother is like, and will tell him in no uncertain terms to stay right away from you.'

‘But—'

‘There are no buts, Mary,' persisted Peggy. ‘Tommy needs his sister more than she needs him right at this moment, and he'll be on his best behaviour, believe me. And, of course, Ron is there most nights – he'll be keeping a close eye out for you too. He and Tommy are old adversaries, and Tommy has learnt not to step out of line with him.'

Mary bent her head, her dark hair falling around her face as she stared into the fire. ‘You said he needed Rosie,' she said eventually. ‘Why's that, Peggy?'

‘Because his wife has divorced him and he has nowhere else to go at the moment,' replied Peggy. It was a half-truth, but the girl didn't need to know more. ‘Rosie's not happy about it, but he's the only family she has, so you can see why she feels she has to have him there.'

Mary nodded and sat back in the chair as she tucked her hair behind her ears. ‘I'd be silly to let him spoil everything, wouldn't I? I do like Rosie, and I love playing the piano for all those terrific sing-songs. It's such a happy atmosphere and I would miss it horribly if I couldn't be a part of it.'

‘Yes, you would,' said Peggy, who was almost weak with relief that the girl was seeing sense and showing some admirable maturity. ‘And you can count on me and Ron and the rest of the household who aren't on duty to turn out tomorrow night in support. You won't be alone, Mary, not now you've got us.'

‘Thank you, Peggy. That means a great deal to me. Goodness, however would I manage without you?'

‘You won't have to,' said Peggy as she patted her hand and smiled.

Mary smiled back. Slipping off her overcoat, she visibly relaxed, and settled down to finish the cup of tea and eat a chocolate biscuit. ‘Now all that's cleared up, what news do you have about my father?'

Peggy took her time to draw a cigarette from the packet on the table beside her and light it. She blew smoke and then plucked a stray strand of tobacco from her bottom lip as she gathered the thoughts that had been troubling her for days. She would have to proceed with this very carefully now Mary had already had a run-in with Tommy.

‘Before I tell you what I've learnt, Mary, there are a couple of questions I would like to ask. I hope you don't mind?'

Mary was hiding her impatience well. ‘Of course I don't mind,' she said. ‘What do you want to know?'

‘Well, it might help to put things into clearer focus if I knew the date of your birth, and if there was any clue in your father's diaries as to whether you'd been given a name by either of your parents before they abandoned you.'

‘I don't really see how it would help,' Mary replied hesitantly, ‘but if you think it's necessary . . .' She thought for a moment. ‘I was less than two weeks old when Cyril handed me over to Daddy in 1924. I have no
absolute
proof as to the actual date I was born, but I've always celebrated my birthday on the tenth of October. According to Daddy's diary, I was called Flora before he changed my name to Mary.' She smiled sadly. ‘He thought it was more suitable for a vicar's daughter.'

Peggy knew with terrible certainty that she was indeed Tommy Findlay's daughter. She cleared her throat. ‘I see,' she said gruffly.

‘So, are things clearer now?' Mary asked anxiously.

Peggy nodded, drank some tea to play for time, and then stubbed out her cigarette and reached across for Mary's hand. ‘I spoke to Ron,' she began, ‘and he remembers Cyril quite clearly – but for all the wrong reasons, I'm afraid.'

‘Oh.'

Peggy heard the flat disappointment, and she wished with all her heart that she didn't have to destroy this poor little girl's dreams.

Mary sighed. ‘I suppose I half expected it, so I don't know why I should feel so let down and disenchanted.' She gave Peggy a sad little smile. ‘I'm sure everyone in my situation has a secret hope that their father will turn out to be a knight in shining armour – but that only happens in children's fairy tales, doesn't it?' She looked down at their interlocked fingers. ‘Did Ron give you any details?'

Peggy tightened her grip on the girl's hand, knowing she had to face this challenge head-on. ‘I'm very sorry, Mary, but Cyril was a con man. Eighteen years ago he was involved in a serious insurance fraud and served two years in prison.'

Peggy saw the colour drain from Mary's face, but she knew she had to continue this appalling catalogue of her father's sins if she was going to deter her from trying to continue her search for him.

‘Five years later he was serving another sentence for embezzlement and theft, and not long after he was released, he was caught selling stolen goods and had to serve an even longer sentence.' She squeezed Mary's hand. ‘Ron heard that he has since lived off a succession of women who he's conned money from, and has been in and out of prison on a regular basis.'

Mary gave another deep sigh as she withdrew her hand from Peggy's grip and scrubbed her face. ‘He sounds awful,' she said tremulously. ‘I was lucky he at least had the decency to find me a good home.'

As she stared into the fire, Peggy wondered what she was thinking – and guessed that she was probably remembering the love and security that Gideon had provided over the years.

‘Does Cyril ever come back to Cliffehaven?' asked Mary suddenly.

Peggy's heart missed a beat, and she had to think fast. ‘I doubt it,' she replied with rather more vigour than she would have liked. ‘After that insurance scam he pulled, he wouldn't dare show his face here again. Too many people were left in dire straits when it came to claiming on their useless policies.'

Mary nodded slowly. ‘I can understand that,' she said.

Peggy reached once more for her hand. ‘I think it's best if you put all thoughts of trying to find him to one side. He sounds a rotten sort – not to be trusted with anything – and asking questions about him could damage your reputation.'

Mary nodded and blinked back the tears. ‘What about my mother? Does Ron know anything about her?'

Peggy heard the wistfulness in her voice and she hated herself for having to do this, but do it she must if Mary was to be protected. ‘No, dear, he knows nothing at all,' she replied with the firmness of truth. ‘And if there had been any gossip at the time, he would have heard it, believe me.'

‘They must have been very secretive,' said Mary. ‘I would have thought someone must have questioned what was going on when she went off, and then Cyril and I disappeared. It would have made for some juicy gossip.'

Peggy kept her expression carefully neutral. ‘Well, it seems there was no hint of scandal or gossip at the time – and none since.' She hoped she'd be forgiven for that lie, and knew it would stay on her conscience for a long time after tonight. She gave Mary an encouraging smile. ‘I think it would be best to try and forget all this, and look forward to the future,' she said softly. ‘What is past must remain in the past, and you can't move on if you're always looking behind you.'