There'll Be Blue Skies (21 page)

‘Oh, my Gawd. You don’t think the polio’s come back, do you?’

Peggy shook her head. ‘The doctor says he’s just been overdoing things, and that he needs lots of rest. He’s given him something to help him sleep, and suggests that we massage his joints every day to try and keep them supple and the pain at bay.’

Sally nodded. ‘Yeah, I always gave him a good rub when he were aching. It seemed to help.’ She looked at Peggy through her tears. ‘You should have come and got me, Peg. Ernie’s more important than bloody uniforms.’

‘I suppose I should have,’ she admitted on a sigh. ‘But once the doctor had been, there seemed little point. Ernie wasn’t in pain, and he soon fell asleep.’ She dug in her apron pocket and brought out two bottles. ‘I fetched the prescription from the chemist. He’ll have to take these as well as the others from now on. They’re to help build up his strength.’ She held out the larger bottle. ‘This is a special oil to massage him with. Use it sparingly, it’s very expensive.’

Sally eyed the bottles, her spirits plummeting further. Ernie’s medicines already took a fair chunk out of her earnings; now it looked as if she’d have to work even harder to make any savings. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘Nothing,’ Peggy said, with a dismissive wave of her hand.

‘No, Peggy,’ Sally said firmly. ‘You’ve already done so much for me and Ernie, I insist you tell me.’

‘Well, all right,’ said Peggy reluctantly. ‘But you don’t have to give it all to me now. There’s no rush.’

‘I pay me debts, Peg. You’ll ’ave it now.’ Sally tiptoed into the bedroom, found the jar beneath her clothes in the dressing-table drawer and was about to hand over the coins when she saw the wheelchair. ‘What’s that doing ’ere?’

‘Jim’s got a mate at the hospital. It’s on loan, so it didn’t cost anything.’

Sally glanced down at the sleeping boy, handed the money to Peggy and chivvied her out of the room so they could talk without disturbing him. ‘He don’t need no wheelchair,’ she hissed furiously.

‘The doctor suggested it would be a good idea for when he got tired. He has to rest more, Sally. He’s been trying to keep up with Bob and Charlie and has been doing far too much lately.’

‘Ernie will hate it.’ Sally was close to tears again. ‘He might only be six, but he’s very proud of his independence, and I’ve encouraged him. That’s why ’e won’t use his walking stick.’

Peggy sighed. ‘If we can persuade him to use it, then perhaps he won’t need the wheelchair quite so much.’ She bit her lip. ‘You see, the doctor explained that he’s been putting too much pressure on his joints and the muscles simply aren’t strong enough.’

‘This is all my fault.’ Sally fought the lump in her throat and the welling tears. ‘I should’ve insisted he use the stick, and not encouraged him to do so much. I thought it would ’elp him get stronger.’

‘You mustn’t think that, Sally. Oh, my dear, there, there. Don’t cry.’ Peggy drew her gently into her motherly embrace and held her close.

Sally clung to her as the fear, exhaustion and sadness overwhelmed her. It was so good to feel the warmth and comfort of that embrace – so sustaining to know that someone cared, that she wasn’t alone any more.

Once the storm was over, Sally dried her eyes and blew her nose. ‘Sorry about that, but it all suddenly got too much.’ She gave Peggy a watery smile. ‘You’re a diamond, Peg, and that’s a fact.’

Peggy patted her cheek. ‘If you need me, I’ll be downstairs, and don’t be afraid to wake me if Ernie’s ill in the night. Just tap on my bedroom door. I’m a light sleeper.’

Sally wished her a good night and crept into her bedroom. Ernie was curled like a puppy beneath the blankets, his thumb plugged into his mouth, eyelashes fanning his pale cheeks. There was a bump on his forehead and a graze on his face, but he seemed to be sleeping soundly.

She washed and changed into her nightclothes and, with the eiderdown wrapped round her to ward off the chill, made herself comfortable in the armchair next to Ernie’s bed.

As she watched him sleeping, she realised that – although he was still small for his age – he’d begun to fill out and look healthier, despite tonight’s pallor. She knew for certain that it was good fresh air, regular meals and bedtimes that had brought about this change, and she could never thank Peggy enough for all she’d done over the past months. But it was a terrible worry that his joints had become painful again, and that his good leg had weakened, and she prayed the doctor had been right, and that the polio hadn’t come back.

She eyed the wheelchair and could remember all too well the weeks he’d had to spend in an iron lung – and the following months when he’d needed nursing at home. Florrie had tried her best, but she’d soon got bored with the endless trips to the hospital, and the sleepless nights when he cried pitifully and would not be comforted.

Sally wearily rubbed her eyes. She had been barely eleven when she’d taken charge of Ernie’s wellbeing and, although it had been lonely stuck indoors with a sick child, and she’d missed a good deal of school, it had had its rewards. Like when he took his first faltering steps with the calliper, and the day he ventured out to watch the other kids playing football in the street. The ball had come his way, and he’d kicked it back, earning a shout of praise that made him grin from ear to ear.

That had been the start of his recovery – and she could only hope that this was a minor setback and that he’d soon be riding Ron’s shoulders again, and getting up to mischief with Charlie. Any other outcome didn’t bear thinking about.

He stirred at three in the morning and she gently lifted him out and sat him on the pot before tucking him back in again. She lay on the single bed, curled round him and fell asleep until the alarm clock went off at six.

‘Me legs ’urt, Sal,’ he whimpered, as she sat him on the pot again.

‘I’ve got some lovely oil the doctor gave me to give them a rub,’ she soothed, putting him back to bed. ‘And you’ll get breakfast in bed as well, won’t that be a treat?’

He nodded, but without much enthusiasm – and then saw the wheelchair. ‘I ain’t a spastic,’ he said. ‘I don’t need no bloody wheelchair.’

‘Language, Ernie. You know you mustn’t swear.’

‘Well I ain’t using it,’ he said stubbornly.

‘But it’ll be just like your crate-car,’ she said with a brightness she didn’t feel. ‘Think about it, Ernie. It’ll be all yours, and you’ll be able to go everywhere in it, all wrapped up snug and comfortable. You’ll be the envy of your mates at school.’

He thought about this for a moment. ‘Suppose so,’ he muttered. ‘But only if I can ’ave flags and stuff on it.’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘They won’t call me a spastic, will they? I ‘ate it when they do that.’

‘Who calls you that?’ Sally watched him closely. ‘Has someone been bullying you, Ernie?’

He refused to look at her. ‘Just a couple of the big boys,’ he admitted. ‘They laugh and point at me, and when the teacher’s not looking, they knock me down.’

‘I’ll have a word with Anne. She’ll sort ’em out.’ She brushed back his hair and softly kissed the bump on his head. ‘Why didn’t you say something before, Ernie? Anne or the headmaster would have stopped it straight away if only you’d said.’

He gave a great sigh. ‘I didn’t want a fuss,’ he said. ‘I can stick up for meself.’

‘Of course you can.’ She kissed him again. ‘I’ll go and get your breakfast now, so while I’m away, why don’t you concentrate on what Santa might put in your stocking this year? Have you made your list yet?’

He shook his head. ‘There ain’t no point,’ he muttered. ‘It’s always a bit of fruit, some nuts and a couple of sweets. Santa only brings good things when Dad’s ’ome.’

‘Well,’ said Sally, thinking of the presents she’d hidden on top of the wardrobe, ‘this year might be different, and you could be in for a surprise.’

‘Is Mum coming for Christmas?’ His voice was plaintive.

As there had been no word from her since they’d left London, Sally thought this highly unlikely. ‘I don’t think so, luv,’ she said softly. ‘It’s a long way for ’er to come, and there is a war on, you know. The trains and that are all at sixes and sevens, and I don’t think she’d be allowed to get a permit to come down anyway.’

His large brown eyes looked up at her. ‘What’s a permit?’

Sally took a deep breath. ‘It’s like a ticket,’ she explained. ‘And only a very few people are allowed to go from one town to another – especially down ’ere by the seaside.’

‘Why?’

‘Because Mr Chamberlain said we all got to stay in one place. I suppose it’s to keep the spies out.’ She closed the door before he could ask any further questions and hurried downstairs to the kitchen to make him a tray of breakfast.

‘How is he this morning?’ Peggy was busy at the stove.

‘Full of questions, and feeling a bit sorry for himself,’ said Sally, eyeing the pretty tray and best china.

‘This is for the guests,’ Peggy explained hurriedly. ‘I did warn them that room service was extra, but they didn’t seem to care.’

‘If those two are married, I’ll eat me hat, so I will,’ muttered Ron, who was leaning against the sink to drink his tea and getting in Peggy’s way.

Peggy laughed. ‘Do you want it toasted or fried? They tied the knot at the Town Hall yesterday morning, and have the certificate to prove it.’

‘War weddings, eh?’ Jim looked over the top of the
Racing Post
he’d been reading at the table, and caught Peggy’s eye. ‘I remember what they were like.’

Peggy blushed and swiped the tea towel at him. ‘Go and find something sensible to do, Jim Reilly. You could make a start by taking this in to Mrs Finch.’ She handed him a plate of toast and boiled egg. ‘Just make sure you pour her tea, otherwise she’ll have it all over everything.’

‘Yes, m’lady,’ he said, giving a tug of his forelock before taking the plate and teapot.

She grinned at him. ‘When you’ve done that, you can tape the windows again – the ones we’ve got left. And see if you can get any more plywood in case there’s another explosion.’

‘B’jesus, it’s worse than being in the army. Orders, orders, orders,’ he muttered good-naturedly as he headed for the dining room.

Sally set about boiling an egg and cooking toast for Ernie, while Peggy took the other tray to the guests on the first floor.

‘Will you be staying home today, Sally?’ she asked on her return to the kitchen.

‘I’d like to,’ she said hesitantly, glancing at Ron, ‘especially now Ernie’s not quite the ticket. But the thing is, there were a bit of trouble at work yesterday, and if I don’t show me face, it won’t help me case.’

Peggy eyed her sharply. ‘What happened?’

Sally reluctantly told her as she smeared a wafer-thin layer of margarine on the toast and tapped the top of the egg. She still felt so ashamed that she couldn’t look at Ron or Peggy. ‘So, you see,’ she said finally. ‘I gotta go in, or they’ll think I really did nick that material.’

‘Of all the …’ Peggy plumped down into a chair. ‘Of course you must go. I’ll come with you if it will be any help.’

‘No,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I got to fight me own battles. And I’m determined to clear me name, no matter ’ow long it takes.’

Ron threw the dregs of his tea into the sink and slammed the mug on the wooden drainer. ‘If it was up to me, I’d be banging a few heads round that factory. I’ve never heard such nonsense in my life.’ He patted Sally’s shoulder and gave her a warm smile. ‘To be sure, no-one thinks bad of you here, girl,’ he muttered.

‘We’ll look after Ernie for you,’ Peggy said firmly. ‘But if you have any more trouble at that factory, then let me know, and I’ll be down at Goldman’s like a shot to give that Simmons a piece of my mind.’

Sally gave her a hug. ‘Thanks, but please don’t, Peg. I’m not a kid any more and I’m used to dealing with men like Simmons.’

The words sounded brave, but Sally knew all too well that once Simmons had taken against her, her employment at Goldman’s could be terminated at any minute. There were plenty of other jobs to be had, but sewing was what she knew, and what she was good at. She certainly didn’t fancy working in a munitions factory.

Ernie ate his breakfast, getting crumbs and egg all over the sheet. Sally cleaned him up and then carefully warmed a little of the sweet-smelling oil in her hands and began to gently massage his back and limbs.

He was almost asleep by the time she’d finished, and she gathered up her things and took one last look at him before she left for work. She hated leaving him like this, but had little option if she was to clear her name and keep her job. She just hoped the shift would run smoothly and there were no further upsets – she was too tired to cope with much more today.

Once the overnight honeymooners had gone, Peggy stripped the bed and remade it with fresh linen. They’d been a lovely young couple, and she wished them well, but with him flying Spitfires, and her working as a WAAF at the air-base, they had an uncertain future – but then none of them knew what the next day might bring.

Her thoughts went to Anne and Martin. Was it better to marry in defiance of everything his parents stood for and hope things would turn out all right? Or was Anne wise to break it off? Seeing her daughter’s sad little face this morning she didn’t think so.