She kept herself busy by scrubbing the bathroom, muttering to herself about the way men never cleaned up behind them and left damp towels and dirty socks on the floor instead of putting them in the laundry basket.
She’d just finished when Anne caught up with her outside Mrs Finch’s room.
‘That was the headmaster,’ she explained. ‘The blocks of flats next to the school took a direct hit and the debris fell right across the playground, effectively cutting off the entrance to the underground shelter. The work crews have been digging for hours, and they’ve at last managed to get everyone out.’
‘Thank goodness it wasn’t term-time,’ breathed Peggy. ‘When I think of all those children who could have been playing there ….’ She sat on the nearest stair, her legs threatening to give way.
‘I know,’ soothed Anne, as she sat beside her, ‘at least we were spared that.’
‘What about the people from the flats?’
‘They were all in the shelter. There were some minor cuts and bruises and a couple of cases of hysterics, but they came out virtually unscathed. But the school didn’t escape completely. Two of the classrooms will have to be demolished, and the assembly hall’s been flattened.’ Anne gave a deep sigh. ‘With so many of the children having been sent away, and more following every day, it won’t make much difference. The headmaster is closing it down for the duration. I’m out of a job.’
‘Oh, Anne, what will you do now?’
‘Well, I have been giving it a lot of thought,’ she admitted. ‘You see, it was inevitable the school would soon close once the raids became more frequent, so I started thinking about how I could do my bit for the war effort.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I went to see the recruitment officer the other day, and there’s a place for me in the Observer Corps. I’ll have to go on a training course to begin with, but I can start whenever I want.’
‘What will that entail, Anne? You won’t be in any danger, will you?’
‘No more than I was in that school.’ She smiled, her eyes bright with an excitement Peggy hadn’t seen for a long time. ‘I’ll be tracking aircraft in some underground bunker in the cliffs, making sure Martin and the rest of our boys know where to find the enemy.’
‘Will it mean you having to leave home?’
Her smile faded as she took her mother’s hand. ‘Well, that’s the thing, Mum. You see, I’ll be living in the female quarters close to the shelter, so I’ll always be on call during an emergency, and can carry out my duties without having to make the long journey each day.’
‘But when will we see you?’
‘I’ll come home whenever I can, I promise.’ She gave Peggy a hug. ‘But I’m looking forward to it, really I am, Mum. And it isn’t as if I’ve never left home before. I was at university for three years.’
‘I know, but with everything going on, I like to keep my family close. What with the boys having to be sent away, and Sally leaving, and now you planning to move out …’
‘I know it feels hard at the moment, Mum. But it won’t be so bad, really it won’t. Please try not to worry.’
‘I worry about all of you,’ Peggy muttered. ‘But then I’m a mother, and that’s what we do.’
Anne held her in a tight embrace for a while, and then gently drew her to her feet. ‘I’m taking Mrs Finch to the library,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you leave the housework for once and come with us? We might even manage to get a decent cuppa at the WRVS canteen they’ve set up in the High Street.’
‘No, you go on. I need a little time to think quietly and try to get used to things. But as you’re going to the shops, see if there’s any tea been delivered – and we need more bread as well.’
Anne left with Mrs Finch, and Peggy continued cleaning. It was a task she could do in her sleep and gave her time to mull over all that had happened in the past two days. She came to the con clusion that there was very little she could do about anything, regardless of how vulnerable and un certain that made her feel. The house would feel so empty when they were gone, but she would probably worry even more about them once they were out of sight.
She finished hoovering the top landing and headed for Florrie’s bedroom. Opening the door she stood there in furious silence, taking in the spilled powder on the carpet, the squashed cigarettes in the hairpin dish, and the lipstick and mascara smeared on her good pillowcases. The whole room stank of stale drink, cigarettes and cheap perfume, and she flung the window open to let the fresh air in while she made the bed and swept up the talcum powder.
Florrie had flung shoes, underwear and dresses everywhere and, in the end, Peggy lost her patience and simply gathered everything up and dumped them in the middle of the bed in an untidy heap.
Closing the door behind her, she hesitated for a moment before peeking into Sally’s room. It was as she’d suspected; Florrie had been through the wardrobe and drawers, leaving everything strewn about as if a whirlwind had passed through. Sally would never have left it like that.
But what worried her more was the jar of money Sally kept in her dressing-table drawer. There was no sign of it, or the passbook for the bank. A few frantic minutes of searching finally revealed where she’d hidden it, and Peggy gave a deep sigh of relief as she pushed it even further back until it almost touched the bedroom wall.
Peggy quickly folded the discarded skirts and blouses and hung up the dresses as her thoughts whirled. Had Sally suspected her mother might help herself to those savings? Should she advise the girl not to leave money in her room? Should she have taken the money herself and hidden it until Sally got home?
It was another terrible dilemma, and she hoped her fears would prove unjustified. The last thing she needed was a thief in the house – the atmosphere was deadly enough.
Thoroughly overwrought, she shut the door and stomped downstairs. The cup of tea and cigarette she was longing for would have to wait a few more minutes.
Reaching the hall, she unlocked the small wall cupboard and eyed the rows of tagged keys that hung inside. It had been a long time since any door had been locked in this house, but she couldn’t risk Florrie helping herself to anything else. She returned upstairs and locked every door but Florrie’s.
‘That’ll spike her guns,’ she muttered crossly, and headed back to the kitchen, the keys snug in her apron pocket.
It was almost three o’clock and the house was quiet now everyone had gone out. She could see Ron and the boys were still happily occupied in the garden and so she sank into her favourite chair by the unlit range and put her feet up.
The tea was horribly weak, but there was still just enough flavour to take the edge off her anger, and she lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out on a long sigh. She had an hour before she had to get changed to go to the Billeting Office, and she was determined to enjoy the peace and quiet for as long as it lasted.
Ten minutes later she was startled by the heavy knock on the front door. ‘Now what?’ she said crossly, ramming her feet back into her slippers. She opened the door and her impatience fled. ‘Hello, Martin, what a lovely surprise. Anne’s out, but she shouldn’t be long.’
‘Hello, Peggy,’ he replied, taking off his air-force hat. ‘It’s not really Anne I’ve come to see – though I was hoping to, obviously.’
He looked uncomfortable, which was most unlike him, and Peggy felt a chill of foreboding as he stepped into the hall. ‘What is it, Martin?’
‘I’m sorry, Peggy. This isn’t a social call.’
She closed the door and they stood drenched in the sunlight that poured through the taped windows. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she suddenly realised the only possible reason for his coming today. ‘It’s Alex, isn’t it?’ she said fearfully.
He nodded. ‘He was shot down last night over the Channel during the raid on our convoy. There were three positive sightings of him going into the water – and a fishing boat picked up his body at first light this morning.’
Peggy sat down with a bump on the hall chair. ‘Poor Alex,’ she said, the tears streaming down her face. ‘He wanted so much to do his bit – and I so hoped, so very much hoped that he … that he …’ She pulled a handkerchief from her cardigan sleeve and blew her nose.
Martin stood awkwardly in front of her. ‘I’m so sorry, Peggy. He was a fine chap and a first-rate pilot as well as a good friend. He’ll be sorely missed by everyone.’
‘Yes, I can believe that,’ said Peggy softly, remembering his melodic voice, his dark, troubled eyes and his broken English – and the day he’d asked her to explain the English money. It had been the same day he’d shown her the picture of his family. She dabbed her eyes. ‘I suppose there’s no way of contacting his people in Warsaw?’
‘No. Poland is in such a mess, it’s impossible – and none of us knows where to start looking for them, even if they have survived.’ He squatted before her and took her hand. ‘He thought of you and Jim as his family, Peggy, which is why he asked me to give you this in the event of his death.’
Peggy took the envelope and stared at her name scrawled across it in black ink. Like the man, his writing was strong and carefully controlled, with just a glimpse of his passion in the artistic curls on each capital letter. ‘I’ll read it later,’ she murmured. ‘Thank you, Martin. It can’t have been easy for you to come here today.’
‘He was my fellow officer, and you were the only family he had. I was proud to have known him.’ He took a slip of paper from his jacket pocket. ‘The funeral has been arranged at the church where Anne and I were married. I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it was where he might find peace at last. The details are all on there.’
Peggy read them before she stood and patted his cheek. ‘Thank you, Martin … Now go and find Anne,’ she murmured. ‘She’s only down the street at the shops or in the library.’
‘Will you be all right?’
‘I’ll be fine.’ She watched him hurrying towards the shops and then, feeling weary and battered and suddenly every one of her forty-three years, Peggy shuffled into her bedroom and quietly closed the door. She sank on to the soft bed she’d shared with Jim since their honeymoon and stared out of the window, beyond the back garden and up to the blue sky that seemed to mock her with its clarity and its emptiness.
She sat there, unaware of time passing, as she remembered the man who had so briefly and tragically entered their lives. Then, finally, she turned her attention to the letter. There was something small and hard inside and, as she opened the envelope, a gold chain and medallion fell into her lap.
She gathered it up and stared at the sweet-faced Madonna etched in the worn gold. On the other side was something written in Polish, which she couldn’t understand – but it was clear the medallion and chain were of the finest gold, and that both had been treasured. She held it in the palm of her hand, feeling the gold warm to her touch as she began to read his last words.
My dear Mrs Reilly
,
You gave me a home and shared your warmth and love with a stranger who was in great need of such comfort. I have felt that you have become like my family, and I hope that you will remember me always with affection – for I have great affection for all of you, and can never repay your kindnesses
.
As you are reading this, I am no longer with you – perhaps finally at peace in the loving arms of those who were lost to me in this world. But I ask one thing more of you, my dearest Mrs Reilly. Would you keep the holy medallion safe until it is confirmed that none of my family have survived the terrible things that are happening in Poland? I have prayed to God that Anjelika or Danuta may find their way to you – but I am thinking God cannot hear our prayers through the gunfire and mortar shells of this war
.
But perhaps the words on the back of the medallion will bring comfort to you as they did to me. Translated from the Polish, they read, ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us.’
I leave you in the hope that you will remember me with kindness, and I pray that you and your family will come through these dark days without harm. For Jim and Ron, my friends, there is a case of vodka hidden in the cupboard under the stairs. Ask them to please remember me when they take their first drink
.
With the greatest of respect and affection, I bid you goodbye
,
Aleksey
.
Peggy sat with the letter and the medallion in her hand, the tears drying on her cheeks, and it wasn’t until she heard the little clock on her dressing table chime four, that she realised how long she’d been there.
Sally had kept an eye out for Florrie all day, but it was now four o’clock and there was still no sign of her. She could only suppose she was still sleeping off the previous night’s drinking, but Goldman would be furious, and she didn’t like to think of the row that would ensue when Florrie did finally show up.
She said goodbye to Pearl, and hurried into the town. The streets had been cleared enough for the trolley-bus to wend its way through, but it meant having to clamber over the rubble that had been piled on the pavements. There was little point in wearing her smart shoes any more, and she was glad of the old ones which didn’t matter if they got a bit more scuffed.