Jim leant on the bar, flirted with Rosie, and disappeared through a side door. He came back with three glasses and a bottle of whisky under his coat. ‘She hasn’t any soda, but she’s bringing over a jug of water,’ he explained, quickly pouring each of them a hefty measure and hiding the bottle again. ‘You’ve got the old man to thank for this,’ he said with a grin. ‘Rosie’s obviously got a soft spot for him – this is his special bottle she keeps out the back.’
‘I didn’t even realise he liked whisky,’ said Peggy.
‘Don’t knock it, Peg. It’s nectar compared to the beer they serve in here.’
Sally watched as Rosie sashayed from behind the bar with the jug of water. Her skirt was tight, the heels were high, the blouse revealing a magnificent cleavage. Such an outfit on Florrie would have made her look like a tart, but Rosie possessed a warmth in her voluptuousness that made her soft and rather endearing. No wonder Ron was smitten.
‘Nice to see you, Peg,’ she said with a broad, friendly smile as she put the jug of water on the low table. ‘It’s not often we see you in here.’
‘We’ve had a bit of a day,’ she replied, ‘so we thought a nip of whisky might cheer us up.’
Rosie eyed Sally. ‘I hope you’re eighteen, darlin’, otherwise …’
‘Had her birthday only last week, to be sure, Rosie,’ said Jim, with a sly wink.
‘I just bet she did,’ Rosie said, and laughed. ‘You and your dad are as bad as each other. I wouldn’t trust either of you.’ With that, she sashayed back to the bar and began to wipe down the highly polished oak, her magnificent bosom moving gently and provocatively beneath the thin cotton of her blouse.
‘Ach, she’s a fine-looking woman, so she is,’ said Jim, his gaze fixed admiringly on that blouse.
‘Put your eyes back in, Jim,’ laughed Peggy. ‘They’re in danger of dropping into your whisky.’
Chapter Fourteen
Sally wasn’t used to drinking alcohol, and found she didn’t like the taste, and although she’d tipped most of it into Jim’s glass and watered down the rest, she still felt light-headed as they strolled back to Beach View. She was thirsty now and looking forward to a nice cup of tea.
As they stepped into the hall and shed coats and hats, Sally noticed that Peggy seemed unusually subdued. But then she didn’t feel too bright herself now that her departure from Cliffehaven had become a reality.
She followed Peggy into the kitchen and found everyone was home except Florrie. The boys were listening to
Children’s Hour
on the wireless and gave scant attention to their arrival. Anne was putting the finishing touches to a fish pie, and Ron was cleaning the sink where he’d gutted the fish, gathering up the heads, scales and bones in a bucket to put on the compost heap. Mrs Finch was wearing white cotton gloves and a large apron, busily cleaning her small collection of silver on the table.
‘Have you seen Florrie?’ Sally asked Cissy, who was poring over a film magazine.
‘No, sorry.’ She shot a glance at Ernie and kept her voice to a murmur. ‘How did you all get on at the you-know-where?’
‘We’ll tell everyone our news once the boys’ programme has finished,’ said Peggy. ‘Did you manage to get any tea, Anne? I’m gasping.’
‘We did, and the kettle’s almost boiled. Sit down, Mum. You look all in. Was it awful at that office?’
‘I’ve met more pleasant people,’ she muttered. ‘Did Martin find you?’
She nodded. ‘He caught up with us in the grocer’s queue. Mrs Finch stayed in the line while we went for a quiet chat. You’ve got her to thank for the tea.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I haven’t told anyone about Alex,’ she whispered. ‘I thought you’d want to do it.’
Peggy just nodded, her face drawn and pale as she lit a cigarette and made a concerted effort to relax.
With the tea poured and the fish pie in the oven, they sat in near silence until the story-time came to an end.
Peggy waited until she had everyone’s attention. ‘It has been a bit of a day,’ she began, ‘and there are several very important things we have to tell you.’ She glanced at Jim for moral support as he knew what was coming. ‘Martin came earlier with some very sad news.’ Her voice broke and she took a deep breath as Jim took her hand. ‘I’m really sorry to have to tell you this, but Alex was killed last night defending the convoy in the Channel.’
‘Such a gentleman,’ said Mrs Finch, sadly. ‘How awful to think we’ll never see him again. He had such lovely manners.’
‘Ach, the poor wee man,’ sighed Ron. ‘He was a fine fellow, so he was. We’ll miss him, won’t we Jim?’
‘Aye, that we will, Da. That we will.’
‘Then you’ll be pleased to hear he’s left you a case of vodka under the stairs. He asked that you remember him as you take your first drink.’ She saw the light in Jim’s eyes and forestalled his hasty retreat to the hall. ‘There are other important matters to discuss before you and Ron get stuck into the vodka,’ she said firmly. ‘And you’ve got work in an hour, Jim, so you need to keep sober.’
‘What can be more important than giving Alex a decent wake?’ said Jim.
‘Security,’ she replied, and reached into her knitting bag for the keys she’d hidden there earlier. ‘I’ve decided it’s time we all kept our bedrooms locked – even during the day. With the raids going on, we’re out of this house far too much, and anyone could easily get in.’
She eyed Mrs Finch’s silver twinkling on the table. ‘We might not have much, but what we do have is precious. I would hate to think of someone stealing it.’
‘So that’s why Anne and I couldn’t get into our rooms earlier,’ said Cissy. ‘You might have warned us, Mum.’
‘I didn’t really think about it until this morning,’ she replied, checking the tags and handing them out. ‘I suggest you keep the key with you at all times, and not leave them lying about. Can you remember to do that, Mrs Finch?’
She nodded and tucked the key away in the handbag that rarely left her side.
Peggy leant back in her chair and smiled at Anne. ‘Now that’s settled, I think Anne wants to tell you her news.’
Sally tried to listen as Anne excitedly revealed her future plans, and the boys cheered at the news of the school closure, but she was finding it hard to concentrate. Peggy had avoided looking at her as she’d talked about locking the rooms – and had certainly not met her eye as she’d handed her the key. She could feel the heat of shame building in her as the only possible reason for this became clear. Florrie had been up to her old tricks.
Had Peggy caught her – what had she taken? The thought of that jar of money made her feel quite sick. But she couldn’t go rushing off now in the middle of things, it would be too obvious, and Peggy had been so careful not to reveal her true reasoning behind this sudden urge for security.
Sally sat at the table, the key clasped in her sweating hand, the weight of its implication burning into her skin.
Jim’s voice roused her from her dark thoughts. ‘Peg and Sally and I have finally done what we discussed the other night, but I’m thinking it would be wiser if we didn’t go over it now.’ He glanced meaningfully at the boys who had returned to their comics, bored with the adult conversation. ‘It will be hard enough as it is, and might take some time, so I think we should do it quietly and in private.’ His dark gaze settled on Sally. ‘Are you all right with that – or would you prefer we do it together?’
‘It’s probably best I do it,’ she murmured, glancing at Ernie who was busy colouring in his picture book. As Jim had said, it would be hard to disrupt him again – hard to make him understand they would have to leave this warm, homely place and go to live with strangers. She wasn’t looking forward to it at all.
The delicious fish pie was received with relish, and everyone groaned in exasperation as the siren howled before they could finish it.
‘Jim,’ said Peggy, as he hurried back from the hallway swathed, incongruously, in his thick coat, ‘wrap that silver in this tea-towel and put it in this box. Everyone take your plates with you – I’m not letting Hitler ruin the fish pie as well as everything else.’
They trooped into the garden and got settled as Ron went back for Harvey. The dog still hated the sirens, and had to be forcibly dragged down the path until he smelled the fish pie – then it was a job for Ron to keep up with him.
‘Will you get that flea-bitten animal out of me dinner?’ Jim tapped Harvey’s nose as it investigated the plate.
‘He hasn’t got fleas,’ muttered Ron, pulling the dog away and making him sit under the bench. Ron quickly ate most of his food and left just enough on the plate for the dog to lick it clean.
‘That’s disgusting,’ snapped Peggy, as the enemy bombers droned overhead and the guns began to boom. ‘I wish you wouldn’t let him do that – it’s unhygienic.’
‘It’ll save on the washing-up,’ retorted Ron with a grin, ‘and what’s a few germs compared to that lot?’ He looked up as the droning bombers continued their flight.
Sally giggled as Harvey slumped on the floor at Ron’s feet and proceeded to snore. It was the same every air raid. The banter would go back and forth, the determined cheerfulness covering their fears, Harvey at the centre of everyone as Mrs Finch fell asleep and the boys chattered. Sally knew she would miss this so much she could hardly bear to think about it – but Ernie had yet to be told of their plans, so she must keep her emotions under control for his sake.
She became aware of Jim nudging his father, and of the old man softly chortling as Jim opened the large coat to reveal the bottle of vodka he’d liberated from the cupboard under the stairs.
‘I don’t know why you thought it necessary to wear that great coat, Jim Reilly,’ shouted Peggy above the clamour. ‘It was obvious you couldn’t resist the vodka, so why bother trying to hide it? D’you think I was born yesterday?’
He looked sheepish. ‘Not at all, me darling – not at all.’
‘Then I hope you brought enough glasses for everyone so we can drink a toast to Alex?’
Jim drew out the two tumblers and couldn’t quite meet her gaze. ‘I didn’t t’ink you’d be wanting any,’ he said. ‘You usually screw up your face and call it poison.’
Peggy brought the teacups from the box. ‘In this instance, I’m prepared to make an exception.’
They raised cups and glasses, and Jim made the toast.
‘May the winds of fortune sail you,
‘May you sail a gentle sea,
‘May it always be the other man,
‘Who says the drink’s on me.’
He drank the vodka down in one. ‘God love your soul, Alex, and may you be flying with the angels tonight.’
The level on the bottle of vodka had been lowered quite substantially by the time the all-clear finally sounded two hours later, and it was with some difficulty that they managed to get Ron and Jim out of the shelter. It was decided they could both sleep in the cellar so their snoring didn’t disturb the rest of the house. The boys would go in with Anne and Peggy.
Sally carried Ernie upstairs. Unlocking her bedroom door, she gently laid him on the bed and pulled the blackout curtains before turning on the light. He was fast asleep, so she carefully stripped him to his underwear and tucked him in.
Once she was certain he wouldn’t wake, she got the chair and looked for the precious jar. Her fingers trembled as she reached for it, and she frowned as she discovered it had somehow slid further back and was now out of reach. But at least it was still there – the room looked as tidy as she’d left it, and there was no evidence that Florrie had been through her things. If she had, the room would have been a tip, for Florrie was the untidiest person she knew.
With a deep, grateful sigh of relief, she replaced the chair and began to hunt through the drawers for a clean blouse to wear for work the following day.
Her hands stilled as she realised her best skirt had been folded neatly in the drawer instead of being hung in the wardrobe, and the lovely sweater she’d been given for Christmas was in with the blouses. She knew in that instant that Florrie
had
been in her room, and that Peggy must have tidied up behind her.
She sat there for a long time staring at that skirt and sweater, the shame flooding through her at the thought of Peggy knowing Florrie had no qualms about rooting through other people’s things. Had she gone into any of the other rooms? Sally felt beads of cold sweat run down her back at the thought.
‘What’s the old saying?’ she whispered. ‘Like mother, like daughter, that’s it. Now none of them will trust me ever again – especially after that to-do at the factory. No wonder Peggy couldn’t look me in the eye when she handed out those keys.’
Sally waited for an hour after she’d turned off the bedside light before she crept across the room and opened the door. The house was silent but for the groans and creaks of the timbers and the faint gurgling in the water pipes. She tiptoed to Florrie’s room and tried the door. It was unlocked, so she stepped inside and pulled the curtains.
Switching on the light, she looked at the pile of clothes and shoes in the middle of the bed, and the make-up and cheap jewellery strewn across the dressing table. Then she turned her attention to the chest of drawers. Her heart was thudding against her ribs and she was finding it hard to breathe as she eased out the bottom drawer. The cavity beneath a bottom drawer had always been a favourite hiding place of Florrie’s, and Sally prayed with all her might that she wouldn’t find anything as she steeled herself to look.