There'll Be Blue Skies (30 page)

Sally stood in the hall with Dorothy and Cissy waiting for Anne. When she emerged on the landing and came slowly down the stairs clutching Jim’s arm, there was an audible gasp of admiration.

Anne was radiant, the borrowed veil falling in a cloud about her lovely face from the glittering comb fixed in her dark hair, the lovely dress shimmering as she moved. Her skin was lightly tanned from the early sun, pearls gleamed at her throat and in her ears, and her eyes sparkled with the kind of joy that could only come from a woman in love. She carried a bunch of roses that matched her dress, the thorns carefully removed by Sally, the stems wrapped tightly in the last scraps of the same silk.

There were tears in Jim’s eyes as he gazed in awe at his lovely daughter, and Sally felt a huge lump in her throat. She missed her dad more than ever these days and it was at times like this that the longing to see him again was almost unbearable.

‘You look very lovely, my dear. A truly beautiful bride.’ Mrs Finch got carefully to her feet and handed her a jeweller’s box. ‘Please accept this little gift, Anne. You’re such a sweet girl, and you deserve something extra-special on this happiest of days.’

As Anne opened the box there was a loud gasp from Jim. The brooch was in the shape of a sprig of flowers – but these were no ordinary blooms, for the petals were diamonds, the heart of each flower a dark green emerald.

As Anne drew it out of the box, the diamonds shot fire around the hallway and the emeralds glowed as green as the deepest sea. ‘It’s absolutely stunning,’ she breathed, watching the spectrum of colour dart against the faded paint on the walls. ‘Quite exquisite.’ She reluctantly put the brooch back into the box and handed it back. ‘Thank you so much, Mrs Finch, but I can’t possibly accept such a generous gift.’

Mrs Finch firmly pressed the box back into her hand. ‘My husband gave this to me on our wedding day,’ she said, ‘and he would approve of me passing it on.’

‘But it’s—’

Mrs Finch waved away her protest, clasped Anne’s fingers round the box, her own gnarled hands covering them. ‘Your family have taken me in and looked after me as one of their own,’ she said softly. ‘My sons and their families have deserted me, and you have become the daughter I never had, the daughter that I feel blessed to know. This was a token of my husband’s love – now it is my token to you. Please take it, Anne.’

Anne drew her into a gentle embrace, kissing the soft cheek. ‘Thank you so very much,’ she murmured. ‘I will think of you every time I wear it, and I’m honoured you regard me as a daughter.’

Mrs Finch gently moved from the embrace and sat down as Dorothy helped pin the brooch to Anne’s dress where it glittered with icy fire. ‘There,’ she breathed, ‘I knew it would look perfect.’

Jim took Mrs Finch’s hand and kissed it. ‘To be sure, me darlin’, that’s the finest gift I’ve ever seen.’

‘Get away with you, you rogue,’ she replied with a smile, as she gently patted his cheek. ‘I’ve heard enough blarney from you to last a lifetime, so enough of this. We have a wedding to attend.’

Sally realised they were all damp-eyed and getting far too emotional. ‘Come on,’ she said, after clearing her throat and glancing at the hall clock. ‘We don’t want to be too late at the church, and poor Martin must be having kittens by now.’

The ancient church of grey stone and flint had stood in the valley behind Cliffehaven since Saxon days. Surrounded by trees, it serenely watched over the rolling hills and pastures where sheep and cattle had grazed for centuries. As the car drew up to the lychgate and they climbed out, the bells were ringing out their joyful melody.

Dorothy and Cissy fussed with the dresses and flowers while Sally helped Mrs Finch along the cinder path to the church porch where the verger was waiting to escort her to her seat. She waited on the steps as the rest of the wedding party approached.

Jim drew Anne to a halt at the bottom of the stone steps that had been worn by generations of feet. He turned to Anne and kissed her cheek. ‘My beautiful girl,’ he murmured, as he almost reverently adjusted the veil so it drifted over her face. ‘I wish you happiness and all the love in the world on this special day.’

Anne clasped his fingers, sharing a moment of silence with him before she turned to the three girls. ‘Are we all ready?’ At their nods, she took a deep breath and tucked her hand into the crook of Jim’s arm. ‘Then you can start the music,’ she said to the verger, who was hovering in the porchway.

The rousing organ music soared to the ancient rafters as they entered the candlelit church and slowly made their way down the worn flagstones and past the paintings of The Stations of the Cross that lined the walls above the dark wooden pews. The golden eagle glowed above the polished oak of the lectern and the little light in the tabernacle on the altar seemed to beckon as they approached the carpeted steps where the priest waited in glorious robes of red and gold.

Pearl was radiant as she sat next to Billy, who looked very dashing in his Royal Navy uniform. A man of medium height with fair hair and blue eyes, he was looking at Pearl with such tenderness, Sally wondered if there would be an engagement announcement before too long.

Martin and his best man – who sported a magnificent handlebar moustache – were very handsome in full dress uniform, and Sally watched as Martin stepped from the pew to greet his bride. Sally saw the adoration in his eyes and briefly wondered if anyone would ever look at her in such a way.

She hastily pulled her thoughts together as she realised she and the other bridesmaids were being regarded by some snooty-looking woman in the second pew. There were three other people sitting beside her and Sally wondered who they were. Their clothes looked expensive, the furs and hats even more magnificent than Doris’s.

She glanced at Doris, who was giving them the evil eye on the other side of the aisle, and bit down on her smile. It seemed that at last Doris had been outshone.

Their vows were made, the register signed, and the glorious music once again soared to the rafters as Anne and Martin went arm-in-arm back down the aisle. They stopped to greet their guests, shake hands and kiss cheeks; then it was out into the sunshine for the photographs which would be taken by Mr Walters, a retired reporter from the local newspaper.

‘Who are they?’ muttered Sally to Ron, as the rather stately group of four stood to one side of the milling guests looking distinctly uncomfortable.

‘Martin’s parents, his sister and her fiancé,’ he muttered round the stem of his pipe. ‘Stuck-up lot, if you ask me. Could barely give Jim and Peggy the time of day when they were introduced.’

‘But it’s wonderful they came,’ said Cissy, who’d been listening in to the conversation. ‘I mean, it shows they’ve given their approval, doesn’t it?’

‘I wouldn’t count your chickens, girlie,’ he mumbled. ‘People like them don’t approve of much at the best of times. I pity poor Anne having a mother-in-law like that.’

The three of them watched as Martin approached his family with Anne, who was looking amazingly calm and self-contained. He carefully kissed his mother and sister, shook hands with his father and the other young man, and kept tight hold of Anne’s hand as she bore their polite, but faintly patronising, congratulations.

Ron chuckled. ‘There’s no use you getting cross on Anne’s behalf,’ he said to Sally. ‘That girl can handle Doris, so she can certainly deal with that mob of snobs.’ He puffed on his pipe. ‘She won’t let them spoil her day, you’ll see.’

And he was proved to be right. The only sign of friction had come in the churchyard when Doris and Martin’s mother realised with horror that they were wearing identical shoes. This tricky situation was soon resolved by Doris ordering Ted to return home to fetch a second and more exclusive pair she’d bought in Paris before the war. The fact that they were agonisingly tight and difficult to walk in was something Doris would never admit.

The wedding party finally moved from the church to the community hall that was only a short walk from the house. Martin’s family didn’t stay long, for which everyone was grateful – including the groom – and the party lasted well into the night.

Sally noticed that Pearl and Billy had been absent for quite a while, and then she saw them coming into the hall, hand-in-hand, with eyes for no-one else. Her suspicions were confirmed when Pearl rushed over to her a short while later and flashed the small diamond ring on her finger.

Sally leapt out of her chair and hugged her. ‘It’s about time,’ she said and laughed. ‘So, when’s the wedding?’

‘We’re getting a special licence,’ Pearl breathed. ‘So it’ll be within the week while Billy’s on leave.’ She glanced across at Anne. ‘Do you think she’d lend me her dress?’

‘You’d better ask her, but I’ll have to take up the hem – you’re at least three inches shorter.’ She smiled and kissed her cheek, wanting to be excited and happy for her, but deep inside the heartache twisted like a knife.

It seemed everyone was getting married, and here she was alone, not knowing if John would ever come home – or even if he really loved her. She plastered on a smile and joined in the celebrations, but every now and then she thought of John, and the anxiety swept over her like a great wave, and she had to go outside for a breath of air.

Anne and Martin left just before nine to drive to the little country hotel where they would spend the one and only night of their honeymoon before he had to return to base. They left the hall, the numerous cans tied to the car’s rear bumper making an almighty racket as everyone poured into the street to wave them off.

‘Oy,’ shouted Warden Wally Hall, red with anger, moustache twitching. ‘Shut that door – or turn off that blooming light. Don’t you know there’s a war on?’

He was greeted with a raucous rendition of ‘Colonel Bogey’ before the men swept him up and carried him on their shoulders back into the hall. His temper was soon soothed by several bottles of beer and a large plate of food.

Sally felt as if she was back in the East End, and it made her long for her dad – he would have been in his element. There was a lot of noise, the men were getting louder as the drink supplies dwindled; the food was copious, if not a little strange – someone had donated a bunch of carrots, which sat incongruously beside a plate of whelks and winkles and a tin of broken biscuits. The wedding cake was sponge and only one tier, but each tiny piece was devoured slowly and with much appreciation. Cake was a rare treat these days.

There was music too, a group of Irishmen who played piano, fiddle, fife and drum and soon had them all dancing. Sally was whirled on to the floor by the best man who danced with more vigour than expertise, and was then snatched away by Billy’s friend Tom into a mad kind of jig that left her breathless. By the time the party was over, Sally was pleasantly exhausted.

Jim and Ron swayed arm-in-arm down the pavement, their voices raised in a joyous but drunken version of ‘Danny Boy’, as Peggy carried Charlie, and Cissy tried to disguise the fact that Bob had been at the beer. Mrs Finch was flushed with the effects of at least three glasses of sherry, and had fallen asleep in Ernie’s wheelchair, so Sally carried him on her hip as she pushed the chair along the pavement. Pearl and Billy had slipped away some time ago, and Edie was going to a nightclub to dance the rest of the night away with Tom. Dorothy had gone home with her new husband.

‘I don’t think it would be wise to get either of the men to carry Mrs Finch upstairs tonight,’ said Peggy, wincing at the loud singing coming from the kitchen. ‘Let’s put those two armchairs in the dining room together and make her a nest. She’ll be quite comfortable.’

Once the old lady was settled with blankets and pillows, Cissy took the wilting Bob and Charlie down to their basement room and tucked them in. Sally was about to carry Ernie upstairs when Peggy stopped her.

‘You’ve got a letter, Sally,’ she said. ‘It must have come by afternoon post.’

Sally looked at the unfamiliar writing and hope ignited. ‘Do you think it’s from John?’

‘Well, no-one can tell you that until you open it,’ she said, and laughed. ‘Go on, put that boy to bed and enjoy your letter. I’ll see you in the morning.’

Sally carried the sleeping child upstairs, woke him enough to use the lavatory and climb into his pyjamas, and then tucked him in bed.

She made sure the blackout curtains were tightly shut before turning on the bedside lamp and picking up the precious letter. Taking a deep breath, she carefully opened it and began to read.

Dear Sally
,

I’m sorry I’ve taken so long to reply to your letter, but until now it has not been possible. As it is, I am dictating this to one of the nurses who has been looking after me so well. My right arm is in plaster, so I can’t write it myself
.

My mother and I thank you for your condolences. The loss of my father and young cousin has hit our family hard, and we appreciate your kind thoughts
.

My injuries are such that I may be in hospital for several more weeks yet, and the doctor has advised me that I will have to go through a short term of recuperation and physiotherapy before I will be fit to return to work. It is unlikely that I shall be home much before next Christmas
.’

‘Oh, no,’ Sally breathed. ‘It’s far worse than Peggy thought.’ She returned to the letter, a little put-out at the stilted way it was written, but accepting he couldn’t get too romantic when someone else had to write it.