Far From Home (30 page)

It was almost the end of visiting time when Dr Matthews appeared. He was an elderly man with a bald head and a neat grey beard, but his gaze was kindly, his expression thoughtful as he introduced himself to Polly, read the notes and examined Adam. Polly knew from Mary that he’d come out of retirement to help out for the duration of the war, but she wondered if his experiences of being a country GP would be enough to help Adam.

‘I will give you a slightly higher dose of the morphine for now,’ he murmured to Adam. ‘If you still have that pain in the morning, I’ll get Mr Fortescue to come and have a look at you.’ He patted Adam’s shoulder and turned to Polly. ‘I think we should leave him to rest for now,’ he murmured. ‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, and I’ll keep an eye on him, don’t you worry.’

Polly thanked him and watched him go into a huddle with Mary. The main fear she’d had since coming here was that Adam would get some sort of infection – and the heightened temperature was an ominous sign that this might now be the case. She turned back to him and kissed his cheek again. ‘I have to go on my shift, my darling, but I promise I’ll come back later. Try and sleep, Adam.’

He opened his eyes a slit and quickly closed them again. ‘Don’t worry, Pol. It’s only a headache,’ he murmured.

Polly tucked his hand beneath the blankets and turned away. ‘I’ll be on Women’s Surgical if you need me,’ she said to Mary. ‘Can I come down during my break?’

‘Of course you can,’ she replied. ‘Just don’t let Matron catch you, or we’ll both be for it.’ Polly was about to leave when Mary caught her arm. ‘And don’t overdo it, Polly,’ she warned softly. ‘Adam needs you, and you’ll be of no use to him if you make yourself ill.’

She nodded and fled the ward, her feet pounding the marble as she ran up the uncarpeted stairs to the next floor. She would not cry. She would not panic. She would concentrate on the job she loved, see Adam later, and hopefully fall asleep the moment her head hit the pillow the following morning.

The all-clear had just sounded and Peggy and Mrs Finch had returned to the house, disgruntled at having been disturbed yet again. The sirens had gone off shortly after seven, and again at nine – just as the BBC news was about to come on the wireless. There had been one or two explosions as the enemy planes tipped their remaining bombs over Cliffehaven, but they had been distant enough not to rattle the remaining glass in the windows.

It was almost ten o’clock, and both of them were sipping their cocoa in preparation for bed when someone rapped the knocker on the front door. Peggy looked at Mrs Finch with wide eyes. ‘Oh God,’ she breathed. ‘What now?’

‘Do you want me to go and see who it is? It can’t be the welfare people,’ Mrs Finch soothed, ‘it’s far too late at night.’

Peggy stilled her with a hand on her arm. ‘It was late last night,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll go.’ She went into the hall and turned off the light before opening the door. That little Hitler, Wally the Warden, had already banged on the door complaining of light seeping through a gap in the hardboard over the dining room window, and she didn’t fancy a repeat performance.

‘Mr Witherspoon,’ she gasped as she took in the tall, well-dressed figure standing on her doorstep with a gold-topped walking cane. ‘Whatever’s happened?’

He doffed his hat and gave her a short bow. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Mrs Reilly,’ he said smoothly. ‘I know it’s late, but I was hoping to have a word with Cecily.’

Peggy frowned. ‘But Cissy’s at the theatre,’ she said, a dart of apprehension making her go cold.

‘Cecily is not at the theatre, Mrs Reilly. I assumed she was here at home resting her ankle.’

Out of habit, Peggy opened the door wide and ushered him into her hall before turning the light back on. ‘But I haven’t seen her since she left for rehearsals this morning,’ she said in bewilderment.

Witherspoon peeled off his leather gloves and dropped them in his hat which he placed on the hall table next to the telephone. Leaning with both hands on the gold-topped cane, he regarded Peggy sorrowfully. ‘She did indeed come to rehearsals this morning, and the poor girl was clearly suffering. I had a quiet word with her afterwards, and when she didn’t show up this evening, I supposed she’d taken my advice and come home.’

Peggy was flustered and embarrassed. ‘I don’t know where she is,’ she confessed. ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Witherspoon. It’s very unprofessional of her to let you down after all you’ve done for her.’

‘My dear Mrs Reilly, my own feelings are unimportant. It is Cecily who is my concern, for I had my suspicions, and it seems that she has been deceiving us all.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I believe she has gone off in the company of a young Sergeant Joe Buchanan – an Australian,’ he added with a sneer. ‘Thereby letting not only herself down, but the rest of the cast.’

‘She’s gone off with Joe?’ Peggy stared at him in surprise. ‘But how do you know this? What made you suspect such a thing?’

‘I had the dubious pleasure of meeting him this lunchtime when he was hanging about the theatre.’ He leant forward, his tone confidential. ‘I try to protect all my girls from these young men – I understand all too well what the temptations are, and of course I always take special care of Cissy and Amy and the other two younger ones. I like to think of myself as a father figure – a mentor and protector. In short, they are like my daughters, Mrs Reilly.’

‘I’m sure she won’t come to any harm with Joe,’ Peggy murmured. ‘Cissy might be naïve at times but she’s not stupid, and Joe is an extremely nice young man.’

‘Of course she’s not stupid,’ he soothed, ‘but in these troubled times we all do things we might live to regret.’ He turned to pick up his hat and gloves. ‘If I may, I will visit you again tomorrow morning to make sure she is all right,’ he said, his voice silky and reassuring.

Peggy watched, mesmerised, as he smoothed the moustache over his top lip and smiled before carefully putting his hat on. He was such a handsome, urbane man. His wife was a lucky woman.

‘Again, I apologise for my late intrusion, and I’m sure you’re right. Cecily has merely had her head turned by the Australian and will no doubt see the error of her ways in the morning.’

Peggy opened the front door, her thoughts in a whirl. He was such a nice man, and so thoughtful to come all this way at this hour. She’d have a word or two with Cissy, and no mistake. Fancy letting everyone down like that – and running off with Joe to God knew where when she knew he was June’s young man.

Jack Witherspoon crossed the threshold and ran down the steps. Doffing his hat, he gave another short bow. ‘I’ll bid you goodnight, Mrs Reilly.’

Peggy could hear his footsteps and the tap of his cane in the stillness as he hurried out of sight. She stood on the doorstep long after he’d gone, her thoughts troubled, her anger rising. Cissy was old enough to know better, she thought crossly, and when she eventually got home, she would most certainly get the sharp edge of her tongue.

‘Put that light out this instant!’ Wally the Warden shouted from the street corner. ‘This is the second time I’ve had to warn you, Mrs Reilly.’

‘Oh, go and boil your head,’ yelled back Peggy before she slammed the door behind her.

THE BLUSH OF
dawn was colouring the sky as Cissy and Joe ambled arm in arm towards Beach View. His uniform jacket was too big for her, but it was warm against the chill of the early hour and the scent of him was in the cloth.

Cissy didn’t want their time together to end, but within a few hours he would be heading for the ship which would take him back into battle. A cold dread squeezed her heart as she thought of the dangers he would have to face, and the possibility that he might be hurt again – or worse, that he might get killed.

Joe came to a halt at the end of Beach View Terrace, opened his long coat and drew her into his embrace. ‘I wish I didn’t have to say goodbye, Cissy,’ he murmured. ‘Don’t forget me, will you?’

She rested her cheek against his warm chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart through his shirt. ‘Of course I won’t,’ she sighed. ‘Tonight has been the most marvellous night, despite the raids and that warden chasing us down the street.’ She looked up at him, smiling through the unshed tears. ‘He was awfully cross we didn’t want to go in his horrid old shelter, wasn’t he?’

Joe’s smile was soft and filled with regret. ‘Too right he was, but we found a much better place at the Grand Hotel, didn’t we?’

‘It was certainly far more salubrious,’ she agreed with a lightness she didn’t feel. She gave a deep sigh. ‘It was a wonderful night, Joe. I’ll always remember it.’

‘For me too,’ he murmured, and softly kissed her. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go, Cissy,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘But I’ll come back, I promise.’

‘I’ll hold you to that,’ she replied, her arms tightening around his waist. ‘Please make it very soon, Joe.’

He held her within the confines of his coat, his arms wrapped round her, his chin resting on her head. ‘The army’s in charge of my life now,’ he murmured. ‘I could be gone for a long time. Will you write to me, Cissy? Letters mean so much, especially when they’re from someone special.’

She arched her neck and looked up at him, her pulse racing. ‘Am I special, Joe?’ she whispered.

‘Oh, yes,’ he sighed, capturing her lips in a long, intense, sweet kiss.

She clung to him, giving herself up to the delicious sensations he was arousing, and when he gently drew away from her, she felt as if she’d been set adrift like a small boat on an isolated sea. ‘Do
you
have to go now? Can’t we have just a few minutes more?’

He shook his head sorrowfully. ‘I’ll have to run all the way back to the barracks as it is. Goodnight, Cissy. Keep smiling that lovely smile and send me a photograph as soon as you can. I’ll write with the address once I know what it is. I promise.’

Cissy took off his heavy uniform jacket and handed it to him, her skin goosing with the cold. She wanted to say she loved him, that she would wait for him – that he would be in her thoughts every moment until he came back. But she remained silent, knowing it was too soon, and that she would simply appear naïve and foolish after spending only a few hours with him.

‘Take care, Joe,’ she murmured. ‘Stay safe, and write soon.’

He nodded, his eyes suspiciously bright as he tugged at the brim of his hat, turned swiftly away and began to run back down the road.

Cissy stood in the pearly stillness of dawn and watched until he was out of sight, then she burst into tears and fled for home.

The house was silent, and Cissy tiptoed through the door and carefully closed it behind her.

‘What time do you call this?’ Peggy emerged from the kitchen, her expression thunderous.

Cissy’s heart jumped a beat. ‘You scared me half to death, Mum,’ she protested.

‘And you’ve been out all night with Joe Buchanan,’ Peggy replied coldly. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’

‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ Cissy retorted, her chin lifting defiantly. ‘Joe and I just walked and talked and sat in a pub for a bit. Then we had supper in town and spent several hours sitting in an air-raid shelter.’

‘It is five-thirty in the morning,’ said Peggy, her dark eyes boring into her. ‘The last raid was several hours ago. Where have you been since then?’

Despite the fact she and Joe had gone no further than sharing a few delicious kisses, Cissy reddened under her mother’s accusing glare. ‘We were in the lounge at the Grand Hotel for a bit, and then we went for another walk.’

She met Peggy’s angry glare and refused to be cowed by it. ‘We didn’t do anything wrong, Mum,’ she said flatly. ‘Joe was the perfect gentleman.’

‘Do you realise what sort of reputation you’ll get by staying out all night with a man?’ Peggy was clearly still furious.

‘It won’t happen again,’ Cissy replied. ‘Joe’s being shipped out today.’ The tears were falling again, and she wiped them away before hugging her waist. ‘We just wanted to spend some time together, to get to know one another, that’s all. There’s a war on, Mum, and after what happened to Polly, I intend to make the most of every minute I might have left. I can’t see why you’re so cross.’

‘I’m not cross, Cissy. I’m livid. What do you think your father will say when he finds out? And he will, Cissy, I can assure you of that.’

Cissy stared back at her mother through her tears. ‘I’m almost nineteen,’ she stammered. ‘I’m old enough to do what I want.’

‘You’re certainly old enough to know better,’ Peggy snapped. ‘How could you be so stupid? Don’t you realise I’ve been up all night waiting for you? I was out of my mind with worry.’

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ she whispered. ‘But please try and understand. We only had the chance of a few hours together. We did no harm.’

‘Really?’ Peggy folded her arms. ‘And what about June? Did you think of her? Or of how your actions have let everyone down at the theatre? Mr Witherspoon was terribly upset that you didn’t bother to turn up for tonight’s show. And I think you’ve behaved disgracefully considering how much that man has done for you.’

The chill went deeper as Cissy stared at her mother. ‘Witherspoon was here?’ she breathed.

‘Indeed he was, and it was shaming to have to confess that I had no idea where you were. He’d guessed you’d gone off with Joe, you know, and I suspect you’ve gone right down in his estimation because of it. That man really cares about you and the other girls, and look how you’ve repaid him.’