‘I put them on the washing line.’
Sally whirled to find Peggy standing on the landing. For the first time since her arrival, there was no smile on the other woman’s face. ‘I … I …’
‘You should have warned me Ernie wets the bed,’ she said evenly.
‘He don’t usually,’ stammered Sally, ‘but with all the up’eaval …’
‘That’s understandable,’ said Peggy as she came into the bedroom, ‘but you should have told me. Then you wouldn’t have had to go through all this subterfuge.’
Sally was uncertain what that meant, but suspected Mrs Reilly was accusing her of hiding things from her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘But I was frightened you’d chuck us out, and Ernie’s beginning to settle, really ’e is, and ’e only done a tiny bit last night and—’
‘It’s all right,’ she cut in softly. ‘I do understand, and of course I wouldn’t throw you out. But I would appreciate honesty, Sally. If there’s anything you think I should know, then you must tell me.’
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Reilly. I only done what I thought were best.’
‘I realise that, but you could have saved yourself a lot of bother by coming to me straight away instead of washing sheets in the bath in the middle of the night, and hanging things out of the window.’
She looked at her aghast. ‘How did you know?’
‘Our room is right under the bathroom, and I heard water running at two in the morning. I got up to see what was going on, and heard you and Ernie. I realised at once what must have happened.’
Sally reddened. ‘Oh.’
‘I waited for you to say something, but of course you didn’t. When I heard you get up twice last night, I knew I had to do something about it.’ Her stern expression had lightened, but Sally could see she was still displeased. ‘Ernie needed his coat and cap for church, and I came up to collect them.’
‘And found the towel and pyjamas.’
‘Silly girl,’ she murmured, her demeanour softening. ‘Am I so terrifying?’
‘No,’ said Sally hastily, ‘of course you’re not, but because you’re so nice, I didn’t want to upset you or make you angry.’
Peggy gave a deep sigh. ‘Sally, you have to realise that I’m here to help. I applied to take in evacuees, and was fully prepared to look after them on my own. Just because Ernie is with you, doesn’t mean you have to carry the full responsibility of looking after him. Any other evacuee would have to be fed and taken to school and entertained until bedtime – it will be the same with Ernie.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said again. ‘I didn’t think of it like that. Only I’ve always looked after ’im, ever since ’e were a baby.’
Peggy patted her arm. ‘Then it’s time you let someone help you,’ she replied. ‘You’re far too young to have such responsibilities, and you need to have time to yourself once in a while.’ She didn’t wait for a reply, and went to Ernie’s bed to show her what she’d done.
‘I’ve hunted out an old mattress and a rubber sheet, and put extra linen in the dressing-table drawer. I suggest Ernie has nothing to drink after five o’clock, and that you lift him to the lavatory just before you go to bed.’
‘Of course,’ Sally murmured. ‘I’ll do me best to make sure ’e don’t do it again.’
‘I’m sure you will, but don’t make too much of it, Sally. Any fuss and the boy will take much longer to settle in and return to his usual routine.’
‘In a way,’ Sally confessed, ‘I’m glad you found out. I couldn’t have gone much longer without a proper night’s kip.’
‘Yes, you did look very tired this morning.’ She brightened and dug her hands in her apron pocket. ‘How did your first day go?’
Sally smiled and finally relaxed – she’d been forgiven. ‘The work’s easy, and I made a friend. Her name’s Pearl – then there’s Betty who promised to tell everyone about me home-dressmaking work, and I already got three enquiries.’ She realised she was babbling and came to an abrupt halt.
‘You do sewing? What sort of sewing?’
‘Alterations, hems, zips, patching and repairs. I can also draw patterns and make clothes.’ She took off her coat and showed Mrs Reilly her blouse and skirt. ‘I made these before I come down ’ere, but I ’ad to leave me gran’s Singer back in London, so it’ll just ’ave to be repairs till I get enough money together to rent one.’
Peggy eyed the pretty blouse and the beautifully tailored skirt. ‘Well, well, you are full of surprises, Sally Turner.’ Peggy chuckled and beckoned her out of the room. ‘I’ve got something to show you, come on.’
Sally tried to quell the hope that soared through her, but it was impossible, and when Peggy opened the door to the cupboard under the stairs, she almost burst into tears at the sight of the Singer sewing machine.
‘I don’t know what state it’s in, haven’t used it for years; but if you can get it going properly, you can borrow it for as long as you want.’
‘Thank you, oh, thank you, Mrs Reilly. You don’t know what this means to me, really you don’t.’ She threw her arms round a startled Peggy and gave her a hug. ‘I’ll do all yer sewing in return for the loan,’ she cried, ‘everything from turning sheets to making you a lovely outfit. Just say the word, and it’s yours.’
‘Let’s see if it works first,’ said Peggy dryly. ‘Come on, help me get it out, and mind, it’s a heavy great thing.’
They got it into the hall and slowly trundled it into the dining room and placed it under the window with a chair. ‘I’ve said Anne and Martin can use this room in the evenings, but you can use it the rest of the time.’ Peggy dusted the cobwebs off the mahogany lid with the hem of her apron before she unclipped it. Then she stood back and watched as Sally checked the shuttle, the needle and the treadle.
‘A spot of oil and she’ll run smooth as silk,’ breathed Sally. ‘Oh, and look!’ She’d opened the drawer at the side of the smart mahogany casing and discovered numerous coloured cottons, a thimble, a box of pins, tailor’s chalk and replacement needles. In another drawer were strips of ribbon and lace, zips of varying sizes, and buttons. It was a treasure-trove.
‘I’ve got some old paper patterns somewhere,’ murmured Peggy. ‘I’ll look them out for you later, though you might find them a bit old-fashioned.’
‘That don’t matter,’ breathed Sally, still starry-eyed. ‘I can change ’em about, or even make me own.’
‘Sal, Sal. Come and look what we made.’ Ernie was hobbling as quickly as he could into the dining room and came to a halt, staring at the machine. ‘What’s Gran’s Singer doing ’ere, Sal? I thought it was in London?’ His eyes widened and he looked over his shoulder with joyful expectancy. ‘Has Mum come? Is she ’ere?’
Sally gave him a hug. ‘It’s Mrs Reilly’s Singer,’ she said. ‘Mum’s not ’ere, Ernie, she’s still in London.’
His little face was crestfallen. ‘She ain’t comin’ then?’ At Sally’s shake of the head, he squared his shoulders and put on a brave face. ‘I ’spect she’s doing ’er bit, like Old Mother Kemp said.’
Sally couldn’t meet Peggy’s gaze as she bit her lip. ‘I expect she is,’ she said. She ruffled his hair. ‘So, wot’s all the excitement about, Ernie?’
His face lit up and he tugged at Sally’s hand. ‘Come and look, sis. Ron and Bob and Charlie and me made something, and you gotta see.’
She looked at Peggy questioningly as he dragged her towards the door, but Peggy just smiled and shrugged.
‘We gotta go outside,’ he said, bumping down the cellar steps. ‘It’s in the garden.’ He paused at the back door. ‘Shut yer eyes, Sal, and count to ten before you come out, or you’ll spoil the surprise.’
Sally and Peggy exchanged smiles and she did as she was told. She counted slowly, listening to the urgent whispers and the giggles from the other side of the door. Whatever they’d been up to had certainly generated a great deal of fuss.
‘Ready or not,’ she called, ‘here I come.’ She stepped outside and took in a sharp breath.
Harvey was barking as he charged alongside Bob and Charlie who were pulling on a loop of stout rope that had been attached to an old orange crate fixed to two sets of roller-skate wheels. They were moving at some speed and Ernie was yelling encouragement as he clung tightly to the sides.
‘It’s a crate-car, Sal!’ he shouted as they came to a slithering halt in front of her. ‘Now you don’t ’ave to carry me no more.’ He spluttered and protested as Harvey slobbered all over his face and tried to climb into the cart.
‘Get outta there, yer daft, heathen dog,’ muttered Ron, grabbing his scruff. ‘So,’ he said, turning to Sally. ‘What are ye thinking about this fine mode of transport for the wee lad?’
‘It looks a bit dangerous,’ admitted Sally, having visions of him going too fast and falling on his head. ‘What if ’e can’t stop it and it goes down’ill with ’im inside?’
‘To be sure I’ve put a brake on it. See.’ He reached into the crate and pulled on a sturdy handle that had the pedal of an old bike attached at the end which acted as a brake against the right front wheel. ‘It will need some refinement, so it will, and he mustn’t be trying the steep hills just yet – but he can get to school and about the place without you having to carry him. Tis a grand thing, so it is.’
Sally saw the sparkle in Ernie’s eyes and the rosy cheeks of a little boy who was having fun. She couldn’t spoil it. ‘Yes, Mr Reilly,’ she murmured, giving him a fleeting kiss on his prickly cheek. ‘It is a very fine thing. Thank you.’
‘Hrrumph. Right then,’ he blustered. ‘Let’s be testing this magnificent vehicle on the pavement.’ With the barking dog and the two whooping boys running alongside, he towed Ernie through the back gate and swiftly disappeared down the alleyway.
Chapter Six
Eight weeks had passed since Sally and Ernie had come to live with them, and now it was almost Christmas. The pair of them had settled in well and, as Peggy regarded them as her own – even though she knew she shouldn’t – she’d dispensed with the formalities and insisted they call her Peggy or, in Ernie’s case, Aunt Peg.
She sat in front of the kitchen range, knitting yet another sweater as she listened to the BBC Light Programme. Her own boys were growing like weeds, and although Ernie could have their cast-offs, he too was beginning to fill out and grow stronger, and she liked him to have something new now and again, even if it was from an old sweater she’d unravelled. Good new wool was hard to find these days, just like most things, what with all the shortages.
She glanced across at the kitchen table. Jim was home for once as the Odeon was shut while the projector was being repaired. He and Alex were playing cards and drinking vodka. Nasty, strong stuff that burnt the throat and could do no good to the stomach in her opinion – she couldn’t understand why they drank it at all. But it was good to see Alex at ease again; he’d been far too quiet since getting that awful letter from his sister, and she’d worried he’d never pick himself up from it. The human spirit never failed to amaze her.
He was out of the house more often now the airfield was almost fully operational, and would be leaving them in a week’s time to move into the barracks. She would miss him terribly, but knew it was what he needed. He’d been restless, hanging about the place, and now the planes had arrived he could teach the young, inexperienced pilots and feel useful again.
With her attention only partially fixed to the play on the wireless, she picked up the sound of the whirring sewing machine from the other room. Sally was busy filling the orders that had come from the factory as well as from some of the neighbours. Word had spread fast, and Peggy was worried the girl would work herself to a standstill. Yet she seemed energised now she knew Peggy was happy to look after Ernie. She’d settled in well, both here and at the factory, and had made new friends. Little Pearl Dawkins had become a fairly regular visitor now her sweetheart had joined the Naval Reserves, and Peggy had been delighted to hear them chattering like sparrows in the dining room after tea.
She gave a deep sigh as she counted the stitches. She just wished Sally would go out once in a while and have some fun – but it seemed she was determined to make her home-dressmaking business succeed. Which it would, thought Peggy with a certain amount of pride. There was no doubt the girl was talented, and the dress she’d made Peggy only last week from a bit of old silk counterpane was something to behold. She would wear it tomorrow night when her sister Doris came round for tea.
The thought of her sister stilled her hands. Doris was the eldest of the three Dawson sisters and, to Peggy’s mind, had ideas above her station. She was married to Ted Williams who managed the Home and Colonial Store in the High Street, and they lived in a large detached house in Havelock Gardens on the smarter side of town. Doris didn’t work at anything except on her clothes and her looks, and when she came to tea, she always made Peggy feel uncomfortable as she rolled her eyes at the faded, worn furniture and tired rugs.
Peggy got up from the chair and filled the kettle. She was parched and suspected Sally might be as well. Waiting for it to boil, she turned her thoughts to her other sister, Doreen, and couldn’t help but smile. Doreen and Doris were chalk and cheese, and she supposed she was something in between – strange how that was.
‘What are you smiling at?’
She turned, startled, to find Jim leaning back in his chair, his handsome face wreathed in a grin, blue eyes twinkling. ‘I was thinking of how different we Dawson girls are,’ she replied. ‘What with Doris being hoity-toity and Doreen being … well, Doreen, I suppose.’