Far From Home (32 page)

Doris was married to Ted, who was the manager of the Home and Colonial store in the High Street, and who was probably the most boring, pompous man in Britain. They had a son who was ‘something important’ in the Foreign Office, and lived in a detached house in Havelock Gardens. This salubrious address was on the other side of town and considered by the residents to be a cut above everywhere else. It was certainly very pleasant with its leafy avenues and pretentious houses hiding behind high walls and fancy gates, but Peggy wouldn’t have given tuppence for it.

Doris was a snob, and Peggy dreaded the first Sunday in every month when she came for afternoon tea. Why this had become a ritual had never been explained, for it was a rare occasion to be asked to tea at Doris’s – and this happened only when there was some new piece of furniture or addition to the house to be admired.

Peggy sighed. Doris seemed to have forgotten that she’d been born and raised in this boarding house, by parents who’d worked hard to give their three daughters the best start in life they could afford. She took great delight in showing off her smart clothes, hats and jewellery, and couldn’t help making snide remarks about how she thought Peggy had married beneath her, and consequently lived in a slum. It wound Peggy up no end, and after each visit she would fume for hours.

‘I’m for me bed,’ said Jim. ‘Wake me before four, darlin’. I’m due at the cinema tonight.’

‘Jim, you can’t keep up these long hours with hardly any sleep,’ she protested.

‘There’s a war on, Peggy, and this is the only way I know how to do my bit. Dad will tell you the same and, God love him, he’s an old man, but he’s getting as little sleep as I am.’

Peggy returned his kiss and watched him slowly make his way to their bedroom. They were all tired, she acknowledged, but if this war was to be won, then it was worth a few sleepless nights, surely?

Cissy had only slept for four hours, but it had been deep and refreshing, and when she woke she was very hungry. About to climb out of bed, she heard the other girls leaving for the hospital and snuggled deeper beneath the blankets, listening sourly to their bright chatter as they ran down the stairs. She would wait until she was sure they’d left the house before going down for her own breakfast, she decided, for she didn’t want to run into June again, and certainly couldn’t face her mother.

Her stomach rumbled and she tried to ignore it as she turned over in bed and listened to the noises within the house and the mournful cries of the seagulls. Joe would be on board his troop ship now, and probably already at sea. Was he thinking of her? Would he really write – or had she simply been a pleasant diversion for his last night?

She closed her eyes, remembering the way he’d kissed her, and the look in his eyes when he’d said goodbye, and decided that if he hadn’t been as smitten as she, then he was a very good actor.

Cissy smiled as she let her mind wander through the images he’d given her of his home. Wallaby Creek sounded a lonely place – far from the nearest neighbour and surrounded by miles of cinnamon earth and dusty, pale trees – but because it meant so much to Joe, she wished she could go there and see it for herself.

She set aside the small inconveniences of not knowing one end of a horse from another and that she got a nasty rash if it was too hot. All she could imagine was the two of them riding through those sunlit pastures before returning to the homestead to sit on that verandah and listen to the white cockatoos as they watched the sun go down over the distant mountains.

A tap on the door snapped her out of this daydream and she sat up, clutching the bedclothes. ‘Who is it?’ she asked warily.

‘It’s me.’ The door opened and Amy stepped into the room. Her expression did not augur well.

Cissy swallowed and looked guiltily at her friend. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said hastily, noting the furious glint in her eyes. ‘I know I promised to see you after the show, but I …’

‘You were out with your Australian and forgot,’ Amy finished for her. She sat down on the end of the bed and wriggled out of her jacket, tossing her long hair back from her face. ‘I don’t know what’s got into you lately, Cissy, but I don’t appreciate the way you seem to have forgotten we’re supposed to be best friends.’

‘I’ve never forgotten that,’ gasped Cissy. ‘It’s just that things have been happening, and I needed to think about them on my own.’

There was a softening in Amy’s expression, but her demeanour was still unyielding. ‘What things?’

Cissy licked her lips and reached for her dressing gown. It was cold in the bedroom, and the thought of telling Amy her secret was making her shiver. ‘I’ve decided I don’t want to be in the troupe any more,’ she prevaricated.

Amy’s blue eyes widened. ‘But dancing is all you’ve ever wanted – all either of us wanted.’

‘It was a little girl’s dream,’ said Cissy, ‘and I’m not a little girl any more.’ She drew the dressing gown closer, garnering some warmth and comfort from its familiarity. ‘Let’s face it, Amy, we’ve been in the back row of the chorus in every show we’ve ever done, and I can’t see that changing. Can you?’

Amy clasped her hands in her lap and stared down at them for a long time. ‘It might,’ she murmured. Then she sighed deeply and looked back at Cissy. ‘This isn’t about the back row of the chorus, is it? This is to do with Jack Witherspoon.’

Unable to speak, Cissy nodded and Amy reached for her hand. ‘He’s not married, you know. He only wears that ring for effect. It makes our parents think he’s respectable – but he’s not, is he?’

Cissy shook her head, the tears pricking. ‘I’ve been such a fool, Amy. I believed everything he said – and then … and then he asked me to … to …’

‘Pose for that creepy photographer.’

Cissy stared at her friend in shock. ‘How did you know about him?’

‘I fell for the same line, and although I didn’t want to do it, Witherspoon was very persuasive with his talk of agents and theatre managers. I really thought that if I could get through that awful session it would lead to something special. But I couldn’t go through with it.’

Amy shuddered. ‘That awful man was like some horrid reptile, pawing over me, tugging at my clothes, and I could swear that Witherspoon was watching every move somehow. He has spyholes all over the theatre, you know – that’s why we always make sure we hang our coats on the back of the dressing-room door.’

Cissy was so shocked she could barely speak. ‘He spies on us?’ she managed.

Amy nodded. ‘I thought you knew.’ She forgot to be angry and took Cissy’s hand. ‘Poor Cissy,’ she murmured. ‘You can be awfully naïve at times.’

Cissy didn’t really appreciate the honesty, but as Amy was her best friend she had to take it. She decided to get back to Amy’s nasty interlude with the photographer. ‘When did this photo session happen? Why didn’t you tell me?’

Amy shrugged. ‘It was weeks ago. I didn’t tell you because I was ashamed at how stupid I’d been to let Witherspoon manipulate me into such a situation.’ She gave a ghost of a smile. ‘You didn’t tell me either – probably for the same reason.’

‘Yes,’ Cissy admitted. Then she had an awful thought. ‘You didn’t strip right off, did you?’

Amy went scarlet. ‘I took my top off, but when that old lizard tried to unzip my skirt I socked him in the eye and made a run for it.’

‘I ran for it too,’ admitted Cissy with a relieved chuckle. She gripped her friend’s hand. ‘Oh, Amy, how awful that this has been preying on your mind for so long and you couldn’t tell me. I’m sorry I’ve been such a poor friend – I should have seen that you were worried about something.’

‘We’re both to blame, and it’s a huge relief to talk about it finally,’ Amy admitted softly. ‘But Witherspoon’s the real villain. He gave each of us a secret we were too ashamed to share even with our best friends, and then held it over all of us so we didn’t dare try and break our contracts.’

‘You mean he’s done it to some of the other girls?’ At Amy’s nod, Cissy covered her mouth with her hand and gasped. ‘But how did you find out?’

‘I caught Judith in floods of tears the other day, and eventually managed to get the truth out of her. She and Florence have gone through the same experience as us – and being so young, they were bullied into actually stripping right off.’

‘Then we must do something about it,’ said an outraged Cissy. ‘Judith is only sixteen. He can’t be allowed to get away with this.’

‘We can do nothing unless we get hold of those photographs and negatives,’ said Amy solemnly. ‘All the while he’s got those, he’s got us. And then there are our contracts. I bet he threatened to tell your parents if you tried to break yours?’

Cissy nodded. ‘He frightened me yesterday morning,’ she confessed. ‘He said I was bought and paid for and that from now on I must do as he says, or he’ll have a long talk with Mum and Dad.’

‘I’ve thought long and hard about that, and have come to the conclusion he probably won’t,’ said Amy thoughtfully. ‘You see, if he tells our parents what we’ve done, the finger of blame will fall directly on him, and he’ll be exposed for what he really is. I know my dad would get the police on to him straight away, and I suspect yours would too – after they’d given him a good pasting.’

Amy dug in her bag for a cigarette and offered one to Cissy, who took it though she rarely smoked. Once they were lit, Amy went to stand by the window which looked out over the garden to the terrace of houses at the back. ‘He likes young girls, Cissy, and he’s not above blackmailing us into doing what he wants.’ She shuddered. ‘I’ve managed to avoid being in his office again so far – but the time will come when …’

‘If we get together with the other girls and refuse to be bullied, surely he’d have to leave us alone?’

Amy smoked in silence for a long moment, her gaze on some distant spot. ‘It’s worth a try, but I don’t know that he would,’ she murmured some time later. ‘And by standing up to him, we’ll give him the chance to cover his tracks.’

‘You mean he’ll destroy those photographs? But surely that would be to our advantage?’

Amy turned back from the window, her expression grim. ‘I don’t think he’ll destroy them – they cost him money, and there’s always an eager market for smutty pictures. He’ll just move them out of that safe in his office, and then we won’t ever have the chance of getting those negatives back.’

Cissy coughed and stubbed out her cigarette before opening the window to get rid of the smell. Mum didn’t like smoking in the bedrooms, and Cissy didn’t fancy pushing her patience any further today. ‘Then what do we do, Amy? How can we ever escape him?’

Amy puffed smoke and then impatiently stabbed the cigarette out in the small ashtray by Cissy’s bed. ‘We have to get hold of those negatives. The only problem is, he never opens that safe when anyone’s in the office, so none of us knows the combination.’

Cissy sat deep in thought as Amy restlessly paced the bedroom. ‘We need to get Judy and Flo in on this,’ she murmured. ‘With four of us working on the problem, someone will surely come up with a good idea.’

Amy nodded and became businesslike. ‘Get up, Cissy. We’re not due at the theatre for two hours, and this is the perfect time to catch Judy and Flo before they leave their billet. We have to move quickly on this, because none of us can avoid him for much longer.’

As Cissy hurried to dress and Amy experimented with the lipsticks on Cissy’s dressing table, neither of them were aware that their entire conversation had been overheard, and that someone was already formulating a plan.

THAT THURSDAY THE
WVS reception centre was noisy as usual with lots of people all talking at once as babies cried, small children, too young to be evacuated, ran round the room, and a wireless played lively music in the background.

Peggy had been on her feet all afternoon and was looking forward to getting home, despite the fact that the atmosphere between Cissy and June was still frosty, even though almost four days had passed since she’d given them both a good talking to.

As she rummaged through the mounds of donated clothing people had so generously left at the centre, and tried to stack them into neat piles, she let her thoughts drift. Cissy’s behaviour was worrying, and she wondered if perhaps she should have told Jim after all about her staying out all night with Joe – a loud harangue from her father might bring her up short. She didn’t want the girl running wild and getting herself a bad reputation – and it seemed that nothing she said could bring her to her senses.

Peggy sighed as she set aside a couple of winceyette nightdresses and a tweed skirt. Cissy and Amy
had
run out of the house that Monday morning before she could stop them, and she’d had the embarrassing task of having to face Mr Witherspoon, yet again, to apologise for her daughter’s absence. The poor man had looked so concerned that Cissy’s behaviour might infect Amy, and Peggy sympathised with him. It must be a terrible worry not to be able to rely on his dancers when he was preparing to take the troupe back on the road in three days’ time.

She continued to fold and tidy, her thoughts whirling. Cissy’s bad behaviour was not her only concern. Poor little Polly was struggling to contain her grief and had flatly refused to take time off from her hospital duties. Peggy could understand that she needed to be busy and wanted to spend as much time as she could with her sick husband, but she was worried at how quiet and pale she’d become – and how little she was eating.