There'll Be Blue Skies (45 page)
The arrival of three nurses on her doorstep a couple of hours later had the house ringing once again with voices and hurrying footsteps, and Peggy welcomed the sounds and the need to cater for them all. They seemed very young as they donned their uniforms and hurried down the street to the hospital – but then, thought Peggy, everyone seemed to look young these days.
She’d stayed up to greet the fourth nurse, a Staff Nurse Brown, but when she still hadn’t shown by the time the last bus had gone, Peggy went to bed.
She lay there fretting for a while before Jim put his arm round her and kissed her ear. ‘You and your chicks,’ he murmured fondly. ‘Talk about a mother hen. How’s about a bit of attention for this old rooster before the air-raid sirens go off?’
‘Jim,’ she giggled, snuggling against him. ‘You are a caution.’
Peggy had left Jim in the house to wait for Staff Nurse Brown, while she went to the church with some flowers for Alex’s grave. She found a strange sort of comfort, sitting there in the late summer sun, telling him everything that had happened. She supposed it was because she didn’t have to hold back on her thoughts and emotions as she did with the living.
On her return to Beach View, there was still no sign of the missing nurse, and Peggy telephoned the Billeting Office and was assured she was still coming. She decided she should learn some patience and get on with her day. The girl was obviously held up somewhere – which was hardly surprising, since she was coming from Hereford.
Peggy was in the kitchen preparing the tea when she heard the knock on the front door. ‘That must be her,’ she said, whipping off her apron. ‘She’s probably been ringing that bell for half an hour. I asked you to fix that weeks ago, Jim Reilly,’ she said crossly, as she hurried into the hall.
Opening the door, she discovered a thin, dark-eyed and exhausted-looking young woman on the doorstep with a battered suitcase. ‘You must be Staff Nurse Brown. I was getting worried you’d never make it through.’
The young woman frowned and shook her head. ‘I am a nurse, yes, but I am not Staff Nurse Brown. I am here to find my brother. My name is Danuta Chmielewski.’
‘Oh, my dear,’ breathed Peggy, the tears springing in her eyes. ‘Oh, you poor child, come in, come in.’
Sally had woken that morning and greeted her day off with a smile. Pearl had already left for the factory, so she took her time in the bathroom and dressed carefully. Leaving the house, she tucked the door key in her handbag, shouldered the gas-mask box, and set off for the quiet, tree-lined street where John lived with his widowed mother.
It was a sturdy house of two storeys with a bay window overlooking the small square of neat front garden. Pushing through the gate, Sally took a deep breath as she walked up the path to the front door and pressed the bell.
Mrs Hicks looked flustered as she kept the door almost closed and peeped round it. ‘I told you when you telephoned that he didn’t want to see you,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry, dear, but it really won’t do you any good, and the doctor says he mustn’t get upset or agitated.’
‘Please, Mrs Hicks. I know what he said, but you see I don’t think he really meant it. I won’t upset him, but I have to see him, I just have to.’
The door was begrudgingly opened wider. Betty Hicks looked careworn, but her hair was freshly washed and her cotton frock was covered in a neat floral pinafore. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she muttered. ‘He’s being particularly awkward today.’
Sally stepped into a sundrenched hall that smelled of furniture polish and roses. Her pulse was racing, her hands were clammy and her tongue felt as if it was glued to the roof of her mouth.
‘Who is it?’ shouted John from somewhere at the back of the house.
‘You’ve got a visitor,’ his mother called back.
‘I told you, Mum. I don’t want any visitors.’
Sally and Betty Hicks exchanged glances. ‘This one refuses to leave, so you’d better make yourself decent,’ she replied. She tilted her head in the direction of his voice. ‘He’s in the kitchen,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
‘Well,’ shouted John. ‘You can tell whoever it is to bugger off. I don’t want to see anyone.’
Sally took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen. John was sitting on a chair and morosely staring out through the glazed doors that opened on to the back garden. He was in his pyjamas and didn’t look as if he’d washed or shaved for days.
‘I’ll bugger off when I’m ready and not before,’ she said firmly. ‘But I’m not surprised you don’t want visitors. You look a fright.’
He stared at her in disbelief and hastily pulled the dressing gown over his pyjamas. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he asked rudely.
‘Waiting for you to offer me a cup of tea.’ She dumped her bag and gas-mask box on the table. ‘I’ve had quite a walk from Arden Terrace, and it’s a warm day.’
‘Then you’ve wasted your time. There’s nothing here for you Sally. Go away.’
‘Not until I’ve had a cuppa.’ She reached for the kettle, checked the water level and lit the gas-ring. Ignoring him, she searched for the pot and cups and saucers. Finding a bowl full of sugar, she set it aside with the milk, and fetched the packet of biscuits from her handbag.
‘I don’t want any tea.’ His tone was petulant.
‘Then I won’t make you any.’
‘I don’t want you here, either. Go away.’
She turned from the stove, folded her arms and looked at him. ‘You know, John, you’re beginning to sound like Ernie. At least he’s got the excuse of being only seven. What’s yours?’
‘Are you blind as well as deaf?’ His dark blue eyes flashed with something Sally couldn’t translate. He yanked up the pyjama trouser legs, exposing a horribly mangled and scarred left leg which was held together with long metal rods and vicious-looking screws – the right leg had a tin prosthesis bound to the knee with thick leather straps.
‘And your point is?’ She returned his gaze steadily.
‘It’s tin,’ he snapped, giving it a hard rap with his fist.
‘So? At least you’ll never suffer from woodworm.’
He burst out laughing.
‘That’s more like it,’ she said softly, turning away to make the tea. Her hand wasn’t quite steady as she carried everything to the table and sat down. ‘Now you seem in a better mood, perhaps we can talk?’
His eyes held hers for a long moment. ‘I’ve already said everything, Sally. You’re wasting your time.’
She poured two cups of tea, added sugar and milk and pushed one towards him. ‘It’s my time, John. I can do with it what I please.’
He swept the cup and saucer aside and slammed his fist on the table. ‘Go away. Leave me. Bugger off. I don’t love you. Don’t want you. Never want to see you again.’
She took the hammer-blows of his words like a boxer reeling from punches as she watched him closely and finished the cup of tea she didn’t really want. John couldn’t look at her and, despite his cruel words, there was desperation and terrible loneliness in his eyes that made her yearn to reach out to him, to take him in her arms and make everything all right again.
But she said nothing as she cleared up the mess on the floor. When she finished, she gathered her things and stood looking down at him. His chin was sunk to his chest, his shoulders slumped.
‘You win,’ she said quietly. ‘It was nice knowing you, John. I hope the leg heals soon and you can go back to work.’
She was trembling as she went into the hall. Was she making the worst mistake of her life? She gathered all her courage, forcing herself to believe she was doing the right thing. Looking up, she saw his mother’s worried face as she peered down from the landing – but Sally signalled for her to stay there and say nothing. She opened the front door and slammed it shut, then stood in the hall and held her breath as she listened.
The first sob was deep and heartbreaking. The second was deeper and cut her to the quick – but still she remained in the hall. His voice drifted out to her, broken with his tears and anguish. ‘Oh, Sal, Sal,’ he wept.
Sally dropped her things on the hall carpet and moved swiftly and silently back into the kitchen.
John was slumped over the table, his face buried in his arms, the sobs wracking his frame as he repeatedly whispered her name.
Moving to his side, she put her arms around him. ‘I’m here, John,’ she murmured against his cheek. ‘I’ll always be here.’
‘Oh, Sal,’ he groaned, as he turned to wrap her in his arms and bury his face in her neck. ‘I do love you, of course I do. But I have nothing to offer you – not any more.’
‘I only want your heart,’ she said, kissing away his tears. ‘The rest is easy.’
He raised his head and looked into her eyes, searching for the truth. ‘Are you sure? Can you really love someone like me?’
‘Why not?’ She stroked back his hair and cupped his face. ‘You’re still my John, aren’t you? I wouldn’t care if you had two tin legs as long as you loved me.’
‘Of course I love you, Sally Turner. I’ve loved you since that first day you nearly got yourself shot.’ He tentatively moved closer, his lips seeking her mouth.
Sally’s tears mingled with his as their lips met. In that moment they re-forged the bond they had so nearly broken, and took their first hesitant steps into the future. They would be faced with many trials and tribulations, but together, they would overcome them all. For it was a bond that would endure and strengthen for the rest of their lives.
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Epub ISBN 9781446492024
Published by Arrow Books 2011
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Copyright © Ellie Dean 2011
Ellie Dean has asserted her right under the Copyright,
Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work.
This novel is a work of fiction. Apart from references to actual historical figures and places, all other names and characters are a product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
First published in Great Britain in 2011 by
Arrow Books
Random House, 20 Vauxhall Bridge Road,
London SW1V 2SA
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A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 9780099560463
