There'll Be Blue Skies (26 page)

Jim sneered. ‘You’re just a fisherman, Frank – not some high-ranking boffin from the MoD.’ He snorted derisively. ‘Top secret, my arse.’

‘I think you should listen to your brother, Jim,’ said Ron, quietly. ‘There are things going on in Cliffehaven you know nothing about.’

Jim stared at his father, his tone caustic. ‘And I suppose you’ve got an ear to it all, eh, old man?’

‘I know more than you give me credit for,’ he retorted. ‘Frank wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important, so hold off the aggression and listen to him.’

Jim snorted again and fidgeted in the chair. ‘Go on, then. Spit it out. I’ll not be telling anyone you and Da have gone soft in the head.’

Frank got everyone’s assurance to keep his secret, and Peggy firmly closed the door to the basement. ‘Walls have ears,’ she said, ‘and so do small boys.’

She signed to Sally to shut the door into the hall then returned to sit on the edge of her seat by the range. ‘I know something’s up – there’s been a strange atmosphere in the town all week, especially down at the fishing station. What’s it all about, Frank?’

‘Every seaworthy craft of a certain size in the south of the country has been commandeered by the government for a special mission,’ he began. ‘From private motorboats to pleasure steamers, decked-in luggers and open fishing punts, they’re being taken up the coast. The local fishermen still working their boats are all going, and I plan to be one of them.’

He had everyone’s attention as he turned to Jim. ‘But it will be dangerous out there, and I can’t take old men and boys with me. I need you to crew the
Seagull
.’

‘I haven’t been in a fishing boat for years,’ Jim retorted. ‘I’d be no use to you.’

‘You know the boat as well as me, Jim. After all, we use to fish her together when we were lads.’

‘That was when I could trust you,’ muttered Jim, holding his gaze evenly and without affection.

‘I’ll go with you,’ said Ron, eyes shining at the prospect of an adventure. ‘To be sure I taught you all I know, and an old sea-dog never forgets.’

‘No, Dad,’ Frank said firmly. ‘Not this time.’

‘I’m as strong as you, and tougher than Jim who’s got soft sitting in that projection room every day. I know the sea and everything it can throw at me, and—’

Frank silenced his father with a heavy hand on his shoulder. ‘I admire your courage, Da,’ he said quietly, ‘and I have no doubt you’re as fit and strong as a butcher’s dog. But I won’t be having your safety to worry about – things could turn very nasty out there, and I’ll need me wits about me.’

‘Oh, my God,’ breathed Peggy. ‘You’re going across the Channel, aren’t you?’

Frank hesitated and then nodded. ‘We have to rendezvous further up the coast before dawn tomorrow.’

‘But the Channel’s mined,’ gasped Sally. ‘You could all be killed.’

‘You mustn’t go – either of you,’ said Peggy. ‘I won’t allow it.’

‘We’ll have the navy escorting us,’ said Frank. ‘It will be as safe as it is sitting in a shelter during an air-raid.’

‘But …’

Frank’s expression hardened. ‘Our men are trapped with no way of escaping those beaches unless we do something about it, Peggy. The boats are their only hope. I have to go.’ He turned back to his younger brother. ‘What about it, Jim? Are you coming – or do I have to find someone else?’

Jim eyed him in silence for a long, tense moment. ‘I’ve got a job to keep as well as fire-watch and warden duties. How long will we be away?’

Frank shrugged. ‘I can’t honestly say. But I’m sure Peg can tell your boss something to keep him sweet until you get back.’

Sally saw Jim glance at Peggy, that fleeting look expressing his mixed emotions. She saw the tears in Peggy’s eyes and the fear as she waited to hear his answer. Anne and Cissy had the same haunted look in their eyes – and she knew it reflected her own terror. Could it be that John’s mysterious absence had something to do with this fleet of fishing boats and pleasure craft?

‘Is John Hicks going with you, Frank?’ she blurted out.

‘I have no idea, but as his uncle is a fisherman, it’s likely.’

Sally could feel the hammer-blows of her heart against her ribs and was certain everyone could hear them in the deathly silence of that kitchen.

‘I’m sorry, Peg,’ Jim muttered. ‘I can’t stay here while our men need rescuing.’ He turned back to Frank. ‘You’ve got your crewman, Frank, but don’t expect me to talk to you.’

‘I doubt there’ll be much call for conversation,’ Frank replied grimly. ‘Get your things together, Jim. We have to leave within the hour if we’re to catch the tide.’

Sally took in the scene through her tears as Frank followed Jim out of the kitchen. Peggy was trying very hard to be brave, but as she bustled into action and set Cissy and Anne to making flasks of tea while she made fish-paste sandwiches, she began to crumble.

Anne and Cissy immediately rushed to her side and helped her into her chair. Sally stifled her emotions, took the knife and continued to make the sandwiches as the three of them huddled by the meagre fire and sobbed. She wanted to cry too, but tears wouldn’t do John or the others any good – she just had to keep her fears tightly locked in and do her best to remain strong for all of them.

‘I’m sorry, Peg,’ said Frank, returning in sea boots, the thick waterproof coat and sou’wester slung over his arm. ‘But I didn’t know who else to ask. The
Seagull
isn’t the easiest boat to crew in a swell, and Jim knows her foibles.’

‘I know them too,’ muttered Ron. ‘I don’t see why I can’t come.’

‘Da,’ sighed Frank, ‘someone’s got to stay here and look after the women and kids. They need you more than ever now.’

‘But Jim hasn’t been in that boat for years,’ protested Peggy, her face streaked with tears. ‘Isn’t there
anyone
else you could take instead?’

He hunkered down in front of her and took her hands. ‘There’s no-one I could trust more with the
Seagull
, Peg. He’ll soon remember how to handle her – and we have the trip along the coast to get him used to the feel of her again. He won’t have forgotten. He needs to do this, Peg, please try and understand.’

Peggy was about to reply when the air-raid siren began the terrible whine that soon rose to an ear-splitting crescendo.

Sally put her fears aside and raced upstairs to collect Ernie. Wrapping him in his blanket, she soothed his tearful complaints at having been woken for the third night running. She hurtled down the stairs to the kitchen where Anne, Cissy and Peggy were gathering blankets and all they might need for the next few hours.

Ron and Frank had already gone down to the basement to get the other boys, and Jim marched in, resplendent in corded trousers, thick sweater, waterproof coat and boots, carrying a sleepy and disorientated Mrs Finch.

There was no panic as they turned off the lights and trooped out of the back door and down the path to the Anderson shelter. They had become inured to spending nights within its cold damp walls, and this familiar routine was strangely comforting.

With Mrs Finch settled in her chair, Peggy lit the primus and heated milk for cocoa. It was one of the anomalies of the war that the milk and newspapers were delivered every day, regardless of what had happened the night before.

Sally kept Ernie on her lap and tried to make herself as small as possible in the tight squeeze of so many people. Cissy and Anne sat either side of their parents, the two boys on their laps. Ron kept Harvey firmly against his chest, wrapped in the folds of his poacher’s coat, and Frank sat edgily by the door, clearly impatient to be away to his boat.

Searchlights raked the sky and the wailing siren mingled with Harvey’s anguished howls.

‘You should have put that animal down months ago,’ shouted Frank over the din.

‘I’ve had to let the ferrets go already,’ Ron yelled back, ‘and that was enough. Harvey hates the siren. When it stops wailing, so does he.’ He ruffled the dog’s ears and earned a lick on his face which he dried on the animal’s fur.

Sally held Ernie close as she remembered the day Ron had released his precious ferrets. He had asked her to go with him on that awful morning eight weeks ago, and she would never forget the anguish in the old man’s eyes as he’d been forced to face the fact that Cleo and Delilah were suffering.

He’d waited until everyone was out before he shut Harvey in the shed. As Sally watched, he’d taken Delilah and Cleo out of their cage, stroked them lovingly and given them some bread and milk before tucking them in his cavernous coat pockets. Their long walk up into the hills had been silent and thoughtful, accompanied only by the mournful cries of the gulls and the sweet-scented smoke coming from his pipe.

He’d chosen a spot by a ring of gorse where there were plenty of rabbit scrapings and burrows. She had sat on the springy grass beside him, the salt wind in her hair as he took the animals one by one from his pockets. He’d murmured to them as he’d stroked the soft pale fur of their bellies, and whispered his goodbyes as he’d gently put them down.

There were tears in his eyes as he watched them scurry into the nearby rabbit holes, but he said nothing as he helped Sally to her feet and began the long journey home.

Sally had walked silently beside him, knowing this was not the time for talk. But it seemed only natural to take his gnarled, rough hand in hers to offer tacit comfort and sympathy.

‘Thank you, me darlin’,’ he’d said softly, squeezing her fingers. ‘I knew you’d be the one to understand.’

And she had understood, for Delilah and Cleo were as much a part of him as the landscape. They had been his companions and his children – and now he’d had to say goodbye to them for ever.

She could feel the tears prick as she dipped her chin, resting it on Ernie’s head as she saw how Jim and Peggy were holding fiercely to their children, how Anne and Cissy were trying so hard to be brave for their mother’s sake, and the way Ron was regarding his sons, the love and fear for them doing battle in his eyes.

Her thoughts turned to John, to her father – and even to Florrie. Would she ever see them again? At this very moment she couldn’t believe any of them would survive, and she huddled in the flickering shadows of the hurricane lamp and waited for the enemy to come out of the skies.

The sirens stopped and the ensuing silence was deafening. Frank held his watch up to the meagre light and grimaced. ‘We’ve got to go, Jim.’

‘Now?’ Peggy put her hand over her mouth. ‘But the all-clear hasn’t gone, and there’s a curfew for the boats. No-one’s allowed out after dark – it isn’t safe – you could be mistaken for the enemy.’

‘The curfew’s been lifted tonight, Peg, and we’ll be all right for a while,’ said Frank. ‘Got your things together, Jim?’

‘In the hall.’ He took Peggy and the girls into his arms. ‘I’ll be back before you know it,’ he murmured. ‘Please don’t cry.’ He gently thumbed the tears from Peggy’s cheek before ruffling his sons’ hair. ‘Look after your mother and do as she tells you.’

‘Where are you going, Dad?’ they chorused.

‘Well, now,’ he said, with forced cheerfulness and a wink. ‘I’m going with your Uncle Frank on a wee adventure, and I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.’

He stood and gave Ron’s shoulder a squeeze. ‘I’m leaving you in charge,’ he said softly. ‘Look after them for me, Da.’

Frank hugged his father, said goodbye to everyone else, and left the shelter. With a nod to Sally and a soft touch to Ernie’s head, Jim followed him into the night.

Sally held Ernie close as the boys badgered Ron and Peggy with questions. The tears were blinding her and her heart felt as if it was being crushed by an iron hand. Jim and Frank were going into the unknown, braving the channel and the mines, heading for France and into the jaws of the enemy guns. And, if John was with them …?

She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the images of what might happen – but they remained with her.

When the all-clear finally sounded, they struggled, aching and stiff with cold, out of the Anderson shelter and into the dawn.

They silently trooped indoors, thankful that no raid had come, but weary of the nightly disturbances.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Peggy, then sank defeatedly into her chair. ‘I forgot to fill the kettle, and there’s no water. The fire’s gone out and … and …’ She burst into tears.

Cissy and Anne rushed to her, and the boys were on the verge of tears themselves as they witnessed this unsettling behaviour from a mother they’d never seen cry before.

‘I’ll light the fire,’ muttered Ron. ‘You boys go and get some wood from the shed. But mind how you go.’

Bob and Charlie took another worried look at their mother and then hurried downstairs, still in their nightclothes and slippers.

Sally took Ernie upstairs to get him washed and dressed, but her thoughts were of John, Jim and Frank, and suddenly she was overwhelmed by it all. The dangers had never seemed so real before, but now they were stark and terrifyingly close.

‘What is it, Sal? Why you gone a funny colour?’

‘Nothing,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I’m just a bit tired from spending all night in that shelter. Come on, let’s get you sorted, and then I can see about breakfast.’