There'll Be Blue Skies (25 page)

Sally thought it was the most romantic thing she’d seen outside the cinema, and waited, almost as impatiently as Martin, for Anne’s answer.

Anne clearly didn’t have the same sense of romance as Sally. ‘Get up,’ she hissed, shooting a glance at the others and reddening further.

‘Not until you give me your answer.’

She shook her head and backed away from him. ‘Then, I’m sorry, Martin. The answer is no. I won’t be rushed into this.’

Sally could see by his expression that he was devastated by her turning him down, and she felt a deep pang of pity for him.

‘But you’ll think about it? You won’t just finish things between us? I couldn’t bear it if you did, Anne.’

Her stance softened and she smiled. ‘I’ll think about it, I promise,’ she murmured. ‘Now please get off your knee; you look very silly down there surrounded by wrapping paper.’

He suddenly seemed to realise they had an enthralled audience, that it was Christmas morning and he was probably making a complete ass of himself. He rose shamefacedly to his feet, clutching the peaked air-force officer’s hat under his arm.

‘I’m sorry for breaking in like this so early on Christmas morning,’ he said to the room in general. ‘But I had to see Anne. I can’t sleep, can’t eat – don’t have a sensible thought in my head.’

He took Anne’s hand and made her blush again as he kissed her fingers. ‘This very special, beautiful lady is the only one for me, and I’m determined that one day she will accept my ring and be my wife.’

‘Then you’ve got some talking to do – in private,’ said Peggy. ‘Come on you lot, you can help me in the kitchen. Alex should be here soon, so when he comes, Cissy, bring him straight in to me. We don’t want him seeing Martin when he’s not supposed to be here.’

‘Are we playing charades?’ Mrs Finch trilled. ‘How lovely. But what’s the play? I don’t recognise it.’

Peggy gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Jim, stop trying to look like an outraged father and help Mrs Finch out of her chair.’

‘Oh, dear,’ chirped Mrs Finch, as Jim carefully hoisted her to her feet. ‘Is the game over already?’

‘No, bless you,’ muttered Jim. ‘I’m thinking it’s only just started.’

The telephone rang and Peggy rushed to answer it. Her face lit up and she settled in for a long chat. It was her sister Doreen.

Sally gathered up her gifts and wheeled Ernie into the kitchen. She thought Martin was extremely dashing, just like Clark Gable whose photograph she’d seen in Cissy’s film magazines – and he and Anne made the perfect couple. Now Anne had decided to give him a second chance, the New Year looked brighter than ever.

Chapter Ten

The New Year of 1940 brought Sally’s first kiss. It had happened beneath the mistletoe that hung over the front door of Beach View, and she’d forgotten her shy awkwardness, giving herself up to the sweet and unfamiliar sensations that raced through her. He’d looked into her eyes then, and asked if she’d be his girl – and of course she’d said yes.

But while Sally and John were falling in love, and Anne and Martin were finally preparing for their wedding, the world around them was a far darker and more menacing place. Martin’s squadron, which included Alex and his Polish comrades, was flying ever more missions into Europe. Two million men between the ages of nineteen and twenty-seven were called up, along with the unemployed. February had brought terrible storms all over the country making it even more difficult to get supplies through, or travel anywhere and, in April, Denmark and Norway were invaded.

In May there was a change of leadership in Parliament, and Churchill took the helm of a coalition government and made his first broadcast speech in the House of Commons. Like everyone else in the country, Sally and the family at Beach View sat by the wireless and listened in awe as he offered his blood, toil, tears and sweat to the cause of defeating the advancing enemy.

The heart-stopping news that Paris had fallen and France had surrendered was swiftly followed by the fall of Belgium and Holland. The enemy guns could now be heard across the Channel. Invasion was suddenly a very real possibility.

Sally came out of the factory, tired and dispirited. Her position as line-manager had proved harder than she’d expected and, at the end of every shift, she was wrung out. Things had gone well to begin with, but as the weeks had gone on and she’d had to be rather firm over sloppy sewing, bad timekeeping, pilfering and too much gossiping during work, a few of the women had taken umbrage.

Their numbers weren’t large, but their whispering campaign had begun to wear Sally down – now they didn’t bother to lower their voices when they discussed her youthful lack of experience in management, and the fact they thought she was getting ideas above her station. It was even suggested she’d only got the job because she was Goldman’s favourite, and there was a lot of sniggering and elbowing as she made her regular trips to the office with the work-sheets.

She knew she should ignore them – there always had to be someone who was the focus of gossip, and she’d accepted the challenge of trying to keep them in order – but it was wearing to be constantly criticised, especially as she knew she was doing the job well.

Work was frequently disrupted by false alarms, but productivity was up, Goldman was pleased with her, and even Simmons gave his grudging praise when he saw the day’s output. At least she could rely on the majority of the women, especially Pearl, Brenda and Edie, a sweet, shy girl from Croydon who’d arrived in January, and was billeted with Pearl at the elderly couple’s house north of town.

‘Would the lady like a lift?’

She’d been so deep in thought she hadn’t noticed him waiting outside the gates on his motorbike. The weariness fled at the welcome surprise. ‘My dad said I shouldn’t accept lifts from strange men,’ she chuckled.

‘And my mum told me not to pick up girls on street corners,’ he replied, his handsome face creased in a smile. ‘But I’ll risk it if you will.’

She still blushed when he looked at her like that. ‘Go on then, but I’ve got to get straight back, cos Anne’s due for her last fitting.’

‘You’re a clever girl, Sally Turner, and I’m a lucky man.’ He hesitated for a moment as if he was about to say something else, then smiled and carefully placed the spare helmet over her head.

As Sally waited for him to fasten the buckle beneath her chin, she breathed in the scent of him. It was such a manly smell – of good woollen cloth, Brylcreem and Lifebuoy soap. He moved closer, his lips softly tracing kisses over her cheeks and nose before they lingered tantalisingly on her mouth.

She gave herself up to the kiss, swept away in the delicious sensations he was arousing.

‘Are you sure you have to go straight home?’ he murmured against her lips.

She gently pulled away from him. ‘I’m certain,’ she replied softly. ‘Anne’s wedding’s only three weeks away and there’s still a lot to do. Parachute silk isn’t the easiest fabric to work with, you know.’

He heaved a sigh, gave her a swift hug and helped her clamber on to the back of the motorcycle. ‘You have no idea what you’re doing to me, Sally Turner,’ he groaned. ‘I don’t get to see you nearly enough, and when I do, you’re always rushing off somewhere.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry,’ she replied, cupping his cheek with her hand. ‘What about we go to the pictures tomorrow night? I’m sure Peggy won’t mind looking after Ernie.’

‘I can’t,’ he said, his gaze fixed to a remote spot over her shoulder. ‘I’ve got to go somewhere.’

She frowned. ‘Anywhere nice?’

‘I can’t really say.’ He took her hands, his expression earnest. ‘Sally, you’ve got to trust me, all right? There’s something I have to do, but I’m not allowed to tell anyone about it – not yet anyway.’

She was still frowning as she regarded him suspiciously. He was behaving very strangely, and it was unlike him not to be open with her. ‘All right,’ she replied hesitantly. ‘We can go to the pictures the night after.’

He rammed on the helmet and took a moment to fasten it under his chin, his gaze still not meeting hers. ‘I don’t know, Sal. I might be away for more than one night.’

She eyed him suspiciously, the chill growing inside at his obvious reluctance to tell her the truth. ‘You’re beginning to sound like Ron. He’s been disappearing for two or three days at a time as well, and refuses to tell anyone where he’s been.’ She eyed him keenly. ‘Peggy thinks he’s finally managed to nab Rosie Braithwaite at the pub. You ain’t playing me false, are you?’

‘I wouldn’t do that, Sal,’ he said urgently. ‘I thought you knew me better.’ He leaned closer, his voice low and urgent. ‘This trip has nothing to do with any damned woman,’ he hissed. ‘But it’s hush-hush and I can’t say anything.’

Startled by his fierceness, she regarded him warily. ‘It sounds a bit much,’ she murmured, ‘like something out of one of Ernie’s comics.’

‘I suppose it does,’ he replied, anxiously. ‘But I promise you Sal, when I get back I’ll tell you everything.’ He kissed her firmly, their helmets clashing. Then he climbed on to the motorcycle, told her to hang on, and drove down the road.

Sally clung to him, her cheek pressed against the soft wool of his coat, her heart banging painfully against her ribs. There was something going on in Cliffehaven – she and Peggy had felt it all week; had even discussed it this morning – and it looked as if John was part of it. She closed her eyes, hating the secrecy and fear, longing for this awful war to be over – and praying that whatever it was that was taking him away would see him return to her safe and unharmed.

When they’d pulled up outside Beach View, Sally took off the helmet, but remained clinging to him. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,’ she said. ‘Please be careful, John. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you.’

He swung off the bike and pulled her to him in a tight embrace. ‘No-one and nothing will stop me coming back to you, Sal. I promise.’

After a long kiss goodnight, he tore reluctantly from their embrace and climbed on to the motorbike. Sally stood on the steps and waited until the sound of it faded into the distance. She had to believe he would return to her – and that their fledgling romance was meant to flourish in the ashes of a war that must be won.

Sniffing back the tears, she opened the door. Her worries over John were instantly muted by the unfamiliar and therefore frightening sound of angry voices in Peggy’s kitchen. She froze.

Jim’s roar of anger was followed by Peggy’s plea for him to calm down. Then came the sound of a man’s voice she couldn’t identify. It was calmer than Jim’s but edged with barely controlled fury. Stung into action by the need to protect Peggy, she hurried into the room.

Cissy and Anne were sitting warily at the kitchen table. Peggy was in her usual chair by the range and Ron was standing helplessly by as the two big men stood in the middle of Peggy’s kitchen shouting each other down. It was clear that all three men were related, and Sally realised this must be the brother Jim hadn’t spoken to since being demobbed after the previous war.

‘You’re not welcome in this house, Frank. Get out.’ Jim was almost nose to nose with his brother, who stood like a rock, refusing to be intimidated.

‘I’ll go when I’ve said my piece and not before.’ Frank exchanged glare for glare, his fists curling at his sides, his eyes flashing with anger. ‘You always were a hot-head, Jim, but this time you need to actually listen for a change instead of running off at the mouth.’

‘I’ve done listening to you,’ Jim bellowed. ‘Get out, before I throw you out.’

‘Why don’t the two of you sit down and talk like civilised human beings instead of yelling at each other?’ said Ron, shoving himself between them. ‘You’re brothers, for God’s sake. Isn’t there enough fighting in this world without you tearing into one another?’

‘If you all don’t stop shouting this instant, I’ll put the lot of you in the street,’ snapped Peggy. ‘The children are asleep and I don’t want them waking to the sight of you at each other’s throats.’

She saw Sally hovering in the doorway and waved her into the kitchen. ‘I apologise for their behaviour, Sally, but it seems my husband and his brother have forgotten their manners.’

Sally edged into the room and slid on to the nearest kitchen chair beside Anne, who immediately grasped her hand and gave her a nervous smile. But Sally found little comfort in the other girl’s gesture – she’d seen too many fights in her life, and hated them; but to see such anger in this particular kitchen shocked her to the core.

‘You don’t apologise for me, Peg,’ snarled Jim. ‘This is my house, and I’ll do what I want.’ He threw himself into a chair, legs sprawled, arms tightly folded as he glared at his brother. ‘You’ve got five minutes to tell me why you’re in my kitchen before I boot you out,’ he growled.

Frank lifted his chin, his stance square and determined. After a glance at his father, he began to speak. ‘Since the war started I’ve lost most of my fishing crews. Two of the big trawlers have been taken to be used as minesweepers, and my four sons – along with all the other lads, have joined the Royal Naval Reserve. I’ve had to haul up and store all but two of the smaller boats because all I have left are three old men and a boy to run them.’

‘I don’t want to hear your hard-luck stories,’ rumbled Jim. ‘Get to the bloody point.’

Frank took a step towards him, his expression grim. ‘What I’m about to tell you is top secret, so I want your word you’ll say nothing outside this room.’