Authors: Ellie Dean
Lord Cliffe’s vast estate encompassed not only an ancient forest and several lakes, but a salmon farm, a mansion, gate-lodge and dower house, pheasant pens, stables and farms. Outside the high wire fences that the Land Army had put up, there were numerous cottages and acres of fields, which were served by a pub and a church and formed a close-knit village community over which Lord Cliffe held sway.
Ron tramped past the electrified fence, mourning the days when he’d used the estate as his private larder. The new gamekeeper was far too keen-eyed and efficient for his liking, and after a couple of run-ins with him and his vicious dog, Ron had admitted defeat. And yet there were other places to go poaching that weren’t guarded at all, and that was where he was heading now – although he’d have to face Peggy’s wrath for taking Daisy with him on such an enterprise.
Daisy wriggled and blew raspberries as she kicked against him, and Ron grinned down at her, chucking her under the chin. She was getting a wee bit too big for the old satchel, so he’d had to cut holes in the bottom to accommodate her chubby little legs, but as long as he could carry her out here into his special kingdom, he was happy to do it. Daisy was a Reilly and this was her birthright – and the silent, majestic sweep of the hills, valleys, fields and forests held the essence of what those brave youngsters were fighting to protect.
He stopped for a moment on the brow of a hill and took in the scene. Bright yellow gorse blazed in vast, untidy clumps and gnarled trees grew bent from the years of being battered by the wind. The sea glittered beneath the Mediterranean blue of the cloudless sky, and he could hear the skylarks’ beautiful songs as they soared way above him.
‘Look at that, Daisy,’ he said as he lifted her out of her makeshift pouch and adjusted her cotton bonnet. ‘Can you see the sea – and hear the skylarks? They won’t change, no matter if there’s a war or not.’
Daisy burbled and grabbed his eyebrow, giving it a sharp tug.
‘Ach, to be sure, you’ve a fair grip on you, so you have.’
He gently prised her fist from his brow and held her in the crook of his arm so she could get a clear view of everything. ‘See that road, Daisy – and the big wooded hills beyond it? That’s where we’re heading, so we are. There’s eels to be had there, and you’ll taste nothing better, I can promise you that.’
Daisy wasn’t listening. She was far too interested in what Harvey was up to, and Ron almost dropped her as she threw herself forward to reach him as he rushed towards her.
Ron hastily put her back in the satchel, though it was a bit of a struggle as Daisy didn’t want to go in it. She kicked and wriggled and screamed, and it took a divil of time to get her safely inside.
‘Get down, you heathen beast,’ he growled at Harvey, who was trying to jump up to lick the baby’s face. ‘To be sure, you’ve far too much energy. Go and do something useful for a change.’
Harvey shot off, tail like a flag as his tongue lolled and his ears flapped.
‘Daft auld t’ing,’ Ron muttered affectionately. He hitched the bawling baby to a more comfortable position against his chest and tramped on, knowing Harvey wouldn’t let him out of his sight no matter how occupied he was.
The main road into Cliffehaven ran past the Cliffe estate, through the quiet hamlets and over the quaint stone bridges that arched over the gravel bed of the fast-flowing river. This river made its way through farmland villages from its source some miles away where reed beds flourished.
As Ron reached the road, the peace was shattered by the roar of aircraft. Daisy didn’t even flinch as the fighters and bombers took off from Cliffe aerodrome and thundered overhead towards the Channel. ‘God speed,’ murmured Ron as he watched them until they were out of sight.
Harvey trotted alongside him as he turned off the road and headed up the steep lane which passed Rita’s motorcycle racing track and would take him to the woods behind Agatha Fullerton’s house. These woods stretched for five or six miles and were divided by a boundary fence that ran between Agatha’s property and the large manor house estate that had once belonged to the Finlay-White family.
As Ron plodded up the hill with the sleeping baby’s head now resting beneath his chin, he thought about the tragedies that had befallen the wealthy Finlay-Whites. He’d known their grandson, for they’d both joined the same regiment at the start of the last war, and like so many men, neither he nor his father had survived.
Mrs Finlay-White had lived on in that great rambling house, alone but for the servants – and perhaps the ghosts of her loved ones – and Ron had done a bit of gardening and maintenance for her when his fishing allowed. She’d worn black until her death, he remembered; rather like Queen Victoria after Albert had died. But her fierce glare and authoritarian manner hid a kind heart, for she’d always asked after his family and given him a plump turkey every Christmas, and the gift of a crisp white pound note on his birthday.
Ron reached the top of the lane and looked down on Holmwood House. It was now the Finlay-White Memorial Hospital For Injured Servicemen, and apart from a new addition to the west wing, it didn’t look that different from when he’d once worked there. The brick walls were mellow ochre in the sunlight, the many windows glinting as they looked out from beneath the fancy gabled roofs to the spread of the lawns and formal flowerbeds. He could just make out the movement of people on the sunlit terrace, and wondered if the girl Peggy had told him about was with them.
With a sigh of sadness for the many lives that had been lost or changed forever because of war, he turned away and headed for the gap he’d made in the boundary fence which would give him access to Agatha Fullerton’s land.
He’d disguised it with tree branches, but he knew exactly where it was, and he wriggled through with Harvey at his heels, and the baby clasped to his chest. He tramped through the trees, looking forward to sitting in the shade by the deep pool where the eels swam, for it was a hot day, and his heavy poacher’s coat was making him sweat.
All was silent but for the birdsong and the crackle of leaves beneath his boots, and as Ron reached the spot where the streams fed a deep, shadowed pool, he took off his coat and placed it on the ground. Daisy was still asleep, so he gently removed the satchel and laid it on his coat.
Harvey took a long drink from the pool and then sat down beside the cocooned baby and rested his nose on his paws, eyebrows twitching as he waited to see what Ron was doing.
Ron rolled up his shirtsleeves and regarded his quiet surroundings with pleasure. Agatha rarely came this far into the trees, and as there was no gamekeeper to bother him, he knew he had plenty of time to wait for the eels to come sliding into the net he had in his pocket.
IT WAS VERY
hot in the kitchen, so they’d thrown open the window and back door to try and garner some fresh air. But the delicious aroma of baking cakes and scones more than made up for the discomfort, and Peggy and Cordelia were happily washing up in anticipation of getting out into the garden with a cup of tea once everything had cooked.
A batch of scones was already cooling on a wire tray on the table, and there were a dozen fairy cakes just about ready to get out of the oven. There was no icing sugar or cream, but Peggy had decided a spot of jam would do instead.
‘I hope this American is worth all the trouble,’ said Cordelia with a sniff as she hung the damp tea towel above the range to dry.
‘Whether he is or not, we’ll get to eat cake.’ Peggy dried her hands and carefully drew the bun tin out of the oven. ‘There, don’t they look lovely?’
Cordelia eyed the small golden buns and licked her lips. ‘I don’t suppose we could have one with our cup of tea?’ she asked hopefully.
Peggy laughed as she pushed the damp tendrils of her dark hair from her forehead. ‘I don’t see why not. We’ve earned a treat, and that’s a fact.’ She placed the kettle on the hob and put out cups and saucers. ‘Why don’t you go into the garden and get settled? I’ll be out with the tea in a minute.’
‘It’s a good thing Ron and the girls aren’t here,’ said Cordelia with a twinkle in her eyes. ‘They’d fall on this lot like a horde of locusts.’
She grabbed her walking stick and battered straw hat then slowly went down the cellar steps and out into the garden, where the purloined umbrella cast a pleasant shade over the old deckchairs.
Peggy made the tea, and although it was as pale as straw, there was a bit of sugar to give it some flavour, which was a blessing. She checked on the two round tins of sponge and carefully slipped a long darning needle into each of them to check they were cooked through. They’d risen wonderfully and the smell was quite heavenly, making her mouth water as she carefully drew them out and left them to rest on another wire tray.
Leaving them to cool a bit before she took them out of the tins, she quickly sliced off the top of two fairy cakes, added jam and replaced the top in two halves so they looked like wings. Setting them on a plate, she put the teacups, teapot and plate of little cakes on a tray and took them out into the garden. ‘Don’t eat it too quickly,’ she advised Cordelia. ‘There’s only one each.’
‘What about the rest?’
‘I thought Ruby and Ethel might appreciate them. They’ve invited Stan for tea tomorrow.’ She poured the tea. ‘Rita’s going up there this evening to pick up Ruby and they’re going to the pictures, so she can take them with her.’
Peggy returned to the kitchen to see to her sponge, and had just settled in the deckchair to drink her tea and enjoy her cake when the telephone rang. ‘Blessed thing,’ she muttered. ‘Honestly, Cordelia, there are times . . .’
She hurried back indoors and into the hall where she snatched up the receiver. ‘Beach View Boarding House,’ she said automatically.
‘Margaret, I’ve had the most awful news,’ said Doris, her voice high and anxious.
Peggy sank onto the hall chair, her heart thudding with alarm. ‘What’s happened? It’s not Anthony, is it?’
‘Of course not,’ she retorted. ‘If anything happened to my Anthony, I wouldn’t be able to speak, let alone telephone you.’
‘Then what is it?’ Peggy’s tone was sharp with fear and impatience.
‘I’ve been ordered – ordered, mind you – to take in some ghastly evacuees.’
Peggy sagged with relief. ‘For goodness’ sake, Doris,’ she hissed. ‘I thought something serious had happened.’
‘This is serious,’ Doris snapped. ‘I can’t possibly be expected to take in strangers when I have so many other concerns. But the billeting woman came round, took one look at my two spare bedrooms and insisted that I accommodate these people.’
Peggy had to force herself not to giggle at her sister’s ridiculous carrying on. ‘But Doris, surely you can see that two spare rooms are an absolute godsend to the billeting office with so many homeless to house?’
‘I’ve told her I refuse to have men, or anyone with children – and that I insist upon interviewing them before they put one grubby foot over my doorstep,’ said Doris. ‘But it seems I have no say in the matter.’
‘Oh, Doris,’ sighed Peggy. ‘You really are the limit. Can’t you see that this is your chance to do your bit? Those poor people at the Town Hall have so little, and here you are begrudging them a bit of comfort.’
‘Some of us have standards, Margaret. You may throw open your doors to all and sundry, but I refuse to let my home become a dosshouse.’
Peggy’s eyebrows shot up. ‘I hardly think there’s any call for that sort of talk. Haven’t you got even the slightest bit of charity in your soul, Doris?’
‘I might have known you wouldn’t understand,’ Doris said bitterly. ‘You always were too soft for your own good, and look where it’s got you.’
Peggy went very still. ‘And where is that, exactly?’ she asked with quiet fury.
‘Not only do you have a disgusting dog and stinking ferrets running about the place, but you’re married to an Irish layabout whose father is little more than a tramp. Your house is home to a dotty old woman who should be put away; a common guttersnipe who has the grace and manners of a hoyden; and a flibbertigibbet Irish nurse who’s no better than she should be. I saw her with that American, so I know exactly what she’s up to.’ Doris seemed to have run out of breath.
Peggy was so angry she could hardly speak. ‘You weren’t so fussy when you moved in after Ted ran off with his floozy,’ she snapped bitterly. ‘Which, I have to say, is hardly surprising if this is how you carry on. Put your own house in order before you start criticising mine, Doris.’
‘How
dare
you speak to me like that?’ Doris gasped.
‘I’ll speak to you any way I want,’ Peggy fired back. ‘And for once in your life think of someone else. People need rooms, you have two – so stop complaining and make the best of things, like we all have to.’
‘But they’re ghastly, common women who work at the munitions factory,’ Doris wailed. ‘I can’t possibly . . .’
Peggy slammed the receiver down and stomped back through the kitchen and down to the garden. Plumping into the deckchair, she lit a cigarette and puffed furiously on it until she became quite light-headed.
‘Good heavens,’ said a rather startled Cordelia. ‘You look as if you’re about to explode. What on earth has happened?’
‘Doris is the rudest, most selfish, arrogant person I have the misfortune to know,’ snarled Peggy. ‘And to think that I’m related to her only makes it worse. She winds me up to the point where I want to bust my springs.’
Cordelia giggled. ‘Oh, dear. What’s she done this time?’
Peggy was about to reply when there was a ripping sound, and before she could do anything about it, the canvas parted company with the deckchair frame and she was deposited abruptly onto the ground.
After the momentary shock, she burst out laughing. She knew she looked ridiculous, with her dress rucked up to her knickers and her bare legs stuck up in the air, but at least she’d been brought down to earth with a bump, in more than one sense, and her sister’s nastiness was easily dismissed.
Kitty had been surprised by how much she’d enjoyed the morning, but by the time Nurse Hopkins had returned to wheel her back indoors she was feeling utterly exhausted. The added difficulty of using a proper lavatory for the first time since she’d been brought here merely served to tire her further, and she was very happy to return to her bed for a sleep.