Authors: Ellie Dean
Ruby felt a prickle of unease. ‘That’s really kind,’ she said hastily, ‘but I’m sure I’ll be up in time.’ She put her cup and saucer on the tray and pushed back from the table. ‘Thanks fer tea. I’ll see ya later.’
It was still twilight as she stepped through the front door, but the wind was cold and she was glad of her lovely new coat. Walking down the street, she heard her stomach rumbling, and wondered if the chippy was still open. If Mrs Fraser was planning meals like that every night, then she’d have to have a word with her.
The chippy was still open, and she wandered into the park down by the seafront to eat her second portion of chips that day. Havelock Gardens were nice, with rose bushes and little paths and a pond with a weeping willow drooping over it. Through the trees she could see the big houses that lined the seafront, and tried to imagine what it must be like to live in such a lovely spot.
Despite the warm coat and the hot food in her belly, she was soon feeling chilled, so she slowly walked back to Mon Repos, taking note of the recreation ground and how to get to the public shelter along the way.
As she stuck her head round the sitting-room door to say goodnight, she saw that Councillor and Mrs Fraser were settled in the armchairs by the wireless, a large plate of cheese and biscuits set out with jars of pickles and a slab of butter on a low table between them. Neither of them offered any to Ruby, and after a brief acknowledgement of her presence, they continued to ignore her as they tucked into their supper and listened to the wireless.
Ruby felt a surge of anger as she went through the kitchen to use the outside lav. Their house might be as shiny and clean as a new pin, but they had marred a lovely day.
It was dark now, and she had to fumble her way back to the house. Harold would need watching, that was for sure, and from now on she’d make sure she was in the kitchen when his wife dished up the food. She was blowed if she’d buy chips every night, and the Frasers were being well paid by the government for her keep, so she had a right to a decent meal at least once a day.
Back in her room, she pulled the blackout curtains and switched on the light. But as she closed the door, she saw there was no key in the lock. The thought of Harold creeping about early in the morning made her go cold, so she grabbed the small wooden chair and jammed it tightly beneath the doorknob.
Satisfied she could sleep in peace, she washed in the handbasin, sorted out her clothes for work in the morning and pulled on clean knickers and vest before climbing into bed. It was as soft and comfortable as it had promised, but something was niggling at Ruby and wouldn’t let her sleep.
She lay there staring into the darkness, trying to think what it was that she hadn’t done. And then it struck her. The Frasers might have a good reputation in this town, but they weren’t to be trusted, and she wouldn’t put it past Mrs Fraser to come in here and start poking about the minute her back was turned. Ruby still had a lot of money and coupons in her possession, and with such riches came responsibility. She wouldn’t be able to take her bag with her to work tomorrow, for even if there were lockers, they could easily be opened by a determined thief – and she certainly couldn’t leave it here where Mrs Fraser might help herself.
Throwing back the blanket, she felt her way across the room and switched on the light. There had to be somewhere in here that she could hide everything until she got the chance to open a post office account. She slowly took stock of the room. The floorboards were tightly jammed together and firmly nailed down. The wardrobe and chest of drawers were too obvious, and there was no hole behind the basin’s waste pipe. Her gaze drifted to the window and the pretty curtains that hung over the blackouts, and an idea slowly began to form.
She dug about in her gas-mask box and pulled out the three remaining rolls of money and the sheets of food stamps and clothing coupons. She kept back enough stamps to buy an alarm clock, two ten-bob notes and the small change. Then she flattened the rest out and carefully rolled them up tightly, fixing them with two of the rubber bands. Easing the third band through the others, she secured it with a knot, leaving a generous loop at one end. She wasn’t at all sure if this would work, but she had to give it a go.
She could still hear the wireless downstairs, so she eased the chair away from under the doorknob and carried it over to the window to inspect the floral curtains. They had brass hooks inserted into a special tape that had been sewn along the top edge, and these hooks slotted into the small rings that hung from the metal runner above the window. With a sigh of disappointment she realised that as the hooks were upside down and the rings were too small to take the rubber band and the hook, she would have to think again.
She took the right-hand-side curtain down and sat on the bed to work out the conundrum. There had to be some way, if only she could see it. Then, as she examined the tape, she realised there were special slits for the hooks and not all of them had been used. Using one of the hooks, she carefully wriggled the looped end of the rubber band into the slot next to the last hook and tied it firmly in place. Then she climbed back on the chair and hung the curtain over the blackouts.
She tested the curtain by pulling it back and forth, and then stepped away from the window and examined it for any sagging or bulges. But being right on the end, and closest to the wall, it didn’t show at all, even when the curtains were fully closed, and she breathed a deep sigh of relief. Her money would be safe there until she could get it to the post office.
As she replaced the chair beneath the doorknob she heard voices and the tread of feet on the stairs. Swiftly turning out the light, she made sure the chair was solidly jammed and then tiptoed back to the window and opened the blackouts. She could sleep now, secure in the knowledge that she and her money were safe and that the early light would wake her long before Harold came tapping at her door.
Chapter Eight
PEGGY WAS HAVING
a very strange dream. She was running down an endless corridor with doors on both sides, urgently seeking something, or someone. But every door she opened led to more doors and she could feel the panic rising as the urgency increased and the pain deepened. She needed help, but the shadowy figures that shifted around her watched and waited in silence and didn’t respond to her frantic calls.
She could hear the sirens begin to wail. Saw Jim and Ron and Cordelia in the wavering beams of the searchlights – but they were too far away and couldn’t hear her, couldn’t show her the way out of this bewildering maze, or lead her to the place or the person she so desperately sought. Turning this way and that, she moaned in frustration and fear as the deep pain took a tighter hold and she felt the trickle of something warm seep from her.
She woke with a gasp of anguish to discover that her dream was firmly rooted in reality. The sirens were screaming, Daisy was crying and she’d wet the bed.
Throwing back the covers, she sat up and was immediately bent double by a hot spear of agony. It took her breath away, freezing her ability to gasp or even cry out as it burned through her. She tried to contain it, to control her panic and her dread, but it was persistent, and the damp patch beneath her seemed to be spreading. Somewhere deep within that haze of pain she understood what was happening, and although she knew it would take a miracle now to save the baby inside her, she silently pleaded with God not to take it.
The sirens were screaming, drowning out the wails of her small daughter as Peggy curled into the pain and fought to overcome it. She couldn’t stay here – had to see to Daisy and go and wake Cordelia while they still had time to get to the Anderson shelter. But she couldn’t move – couldn’t escape the all-encompassing agony that had her within its grip.
At long last the pain ebbed to a dull, deep ache and Peggy fumbled for the bedside light. One glance told her that all her fears were confirmed. The sheet and the nightdress were soaked in blood. She took a trembling breath and pulled off the sodden nightdress and then hunted frantically in the nearby drawer for the packet of sanitary pads and belt. She was shaking so badly her fingers were clumsy, but once she had the thick sanitary pad in place, she stuffed the nightdress between her legs for extra padding, and dragged on the large knickers she’d worn while expecting Daisy. She had to hurry now, for soon the sirens would fall silent and the enemy bombers would come, and she had to make sure Daisy and Cordelia were safe before she sought help.
Ignoring the deep, dull ache in her abdomen, she grabbed a pair of Jim’s pyjamas and struggled into them before yanking on his dressing gown and stuffing her feet into her slippers. The pain had ebbed enough for her to breathe through it, but she knew she was still bleeding. The thick wadding between her legs made it difficult to walk and she had to shuffle over to Daisy’s cot, but as she reached down and lifted her, she felt another stab of pain so strong, she almost dropped her back onto the small mattress.
Daisy waved her arms and legs, her little fists curled in anger as her piercing cries went through Peggy’s head. ‘I can’t lift you, darling,’ she panted through her tears. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to leave you here for a bit.’
Daisy’s cries tore at Peggy’s heart as she turned her back on the baby and shuffled to the door. She managed to stumble into the dark hall and then collapsed on the chair by the telephone, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she reached for the receiver.
There was only the dead silence of a disconnected line at the other end.
Peggy left the receiver dangling from its cord, dredged up every ounce of strength and determination she possessed and stumbled to the stairs. They seemed endless but, spurred on by Daisy’s cries and the wailing of the sirens, she took the first step and then the next, slowly making the long climb towards the first landing and Cordelia’s room.
She was almost at the top with only four more steps to go, but her legs were trembling with the effort, and she swayed so alarmingly that she had to cling to the bannisters as she blinked away the salty sweat that stung her eyes. She sank to her knees and gripped the faded carpet as she crawled towards the landing. She lay there for a moment, breathing in the dust of the old carpet, feeling its rough texture against her cheek as Daisy’s wavering cries threaded through the sirens’ warning of the enemy’s approach. She had to move, had to find the strength somehow to get to Cordelia.
Peggy usually woke her softly so as not to frighten her, but tonight was different, for there simply wasn’t time for niceties. She flung the door open, managed to stagger to the bed, switch on the bedside light and roughly shake the old lady out of her sleep.
‘What? What’s going on?’ Cordelia sat bolt upright, fear etched into her face until she saw Peggy kneeling beside the bed, and then she was all concern. ‘What is it, Peggy? Are you hurt? You look awful.’
Peggy didn’t have the strength to waste words, so she urgently pointed to the hearing aid on the bedside table as she tried to breathe through the pain.
Cordelia quickly fumbled it into her ear and adjusted the volume until she could hear the sirens and the wailing baby – but her whole focus was on Peggy as she saw the blood soaking through the pyjama trousers. ‘Oh, my dear, whatever is the matter?’ she gasped.
‘I need you to go to the Anderson shelter with Daisy,’ Peggy shouted above the noise of the sirens and the squadrons of Spitfires which were roaring overhead.
‘But I can’t leave you here, Peggy. You’re bleeding and need help.’
‘The phone’s not working,’ she yelled back. ‘See to Daisy. I’ll manage.’
Cordelia was close to tears, but she was made of stern stuff and knew this was not the time to argue or fall apart. She pulled on her dressing gown, tugged on her slippers and grabbed her walking stick and small torch. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ she shouted.
‘No!’ Peggy yelled back urgently. ‘Stay with Daisy in the shelter. I’ll join you there.’
Cordelia gave a curt nod, her expression unreadable as she squeezed Peggy’s shoulder and then hobbled out of the room.
Peggy was on her knees by the bed and she closed her eyes as Cordelia made her slow way down the stairs. It was terrifying to think of her going down the cellar steps with Daisy in her arms, for she was unsteady on her feet at the best of times and Daisy was likely to wriggle and squirm now she was so upset. But she couldn’t let herself think like that – couldn’t allow anything to weaken her resolve. She had to get downstairs again before the sirens stopped.
As she slowly dragged herself to her feet and leaned on the bed to gather her strength, she heard more squadrons of RAF fighter planes leaving Cliffe airfield to engage the approaching enemy. By the sound of it, they were prepared for a large raid.
Peggy stumbled and swayed her way across the room and out onto the landing. The floor seemed to be rocking beneath her and the long flight of stairs went in and out of focus. But the thought of Cordelia and those cellar steps kept her going, and she realised it would be quicker if she sat on the top step and slid her way down to the hall.
The sirens stopped, the echoes of their wails dying away to be replaced by the distant, ominous drone of heavy-bellied enemy bombers – and Daisy’s persistent, angry cries. But Daisy should have been in the Anderson shelter by now, so why could she still hear her?
Peggy was drawn to the sound, the urgency giving her renewed strength as she tottered across the hall and into the kitchen. She stumbled and grabbed the back of a chair to steady herself, for if she fell now she wouldn’t be able to get back up again, and her baby needed her – Cordelia needed her.
She staggered round the table, reached the door that led to the basement and froze.
Cordelia was sitting on the cellar’s concrete floor, the sobbing Daisy lying across her sprawled legs.
‘Oh, dear God,’ she breathed. In her horror and fear Peggy found a surge of energy and almost fell down the concrete steps as she rushed to get to them.