There'll Be Blue Skies (40 page)

She was already late, and Simmons would no doubt give her an ear-bashing – but as she would have to hand her notice in to Goldman this morning, she didn’t really care.

Simmons didn’t say anything as she scurried past him. Perhaps he’d realised finally that it would be wasting his breath. Pearl and Brenda were at their machines, already halfway through their shifts when she sat down beside them.

‘How did it go with the kids?’ shouted Pearl over the clatter of machinery.

‘All right, I think,’ she replied, swiftly feeding the material beneath the needle. ‘Ernie doesn’t seem too upset now he knows me and the others are going too.’

‘Where’s Florrie? Ain’t she supposed to be on this shift with you?’

‘She’s sleeping off her night out,’ said Sally grimly. ‘I’m not responsible for her, and if she gets the sack, maybe she’ll go back to London.’

‘When are you going to tell Goldman you’re leaving?’ asked Brenda, the fag bobbing at the corner of her mouth.

‘During my break.’ Sally concentrated on her work, her thoughts flitting from Ernie to Florrie, to Peggy and the boys – and to the journey ahead.

She was dreading it – dreading a repeat of what happened to them when they’d first arrived in Cliffehaven. And although she’d told that Miss Fforbes-Smythe she was quite capable of making her own arrangements, she didn’t really know where to start. She couldn’t afford a hotel or guest house, and even if she did manage to find a room somewhere, the money she’d saved would soon be eaten away by rent and food and Ernie’s medical care.

She finished the trousers and snipped off the loose cotton, her thoughts elsewhere. She suspected there wouldn’t be any work like this in Wales, and that she’d probably end up with the land army girls, or on the production line of a munitions factory – neither of which appealed in the slightest. But needs must, and if that’s what it took to make sure Ernie was safe and well looked after, she would do it.

The siren went off fifteen minutes later and everyone trooped into the vast shelter that had been built behind the factory. They sat and smoked and gossiped and tried to read magazines in the dim light as the clatter of gunfire and the roar of plane engines went on above them.

It was an hour before the all-clear sounded, and by then they’d had enough of being underground and quite happily returned to work.

Sally worked fast and efficiently until it was time for her break. Pearl was going off shift and planning to spend the rest of the day browsing round Woolworths for new make-up, and perhaps treating herself to an ice-cream from the dairy.

Sally approached Simmons who was standing in the corridor by the office. ‘I need to speak to Mr Goldman.’

He eyed her through the thick lenses of his glasses. ‘If it’s about Mrs Turner, then you’re wasting your time. She was sacked an hour ago.’

The news was hardly surprising, but it had other connotations which didn’t bode well. Florrie’s position here was guaranteed by Solomon – had he tired of her already, or had his wife found out and he’d dumped her as fast as he could? There would be the most fearful row when she got home, because Florrie was bound to blame her.

‘She was still in bed when I came to work. Does she know she’s been sacked?’

He smirked. ‘Oh, yes. She came swanning in three hours late, and was headed off by Mr Solomon at the staff entrance. I didn’t hear everything he said to her because he shut the office door, but I couldn’t fail to hear him telling her she was never to put a foot in this place again. She was yelling fit to bust, and stormed out ten minutes later calling him all the names under the sun.’

Simmons grinned. He was clearly enjoying himself. ‘Your mother does possess a vast and colourful vocabulary, doesn’t she?’

Sally could just picture the scene, with Simmons’s ear glued to the door as Florrie and Solomon tore into each other, and her spirits rose and ebbed as she thought of the different consequences of such a falling-out.

She pulled her ragged thoughts together, determined not to encourage Simmons’s voyeuristic streak further. ‘My request to see Mr Goldman has nothing to do with Mrs Turner,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s personal.’

His lip curled as he eyed her. ‘If you tell me what it’s about, I’ll see if he’s available. I should think both Solomon and Goldman have had enough of the Turner women today.’

‘If I wanted you to know my business I wouldn’t have asked to see Mr Goldman. Are you going to see if he’s in, or do I do it?’

Simmons hesitated, eyed his watch and fidgeted with his clipboard. ‘Wait here,’ he muttered.

She stood in the corridor outside the office, her pulse racing. It was clear Solomon had dumped Florrie – but without work, what would she do for money? Florrie had expensive tastes, and although she’d no doubt find some other fool to feed her gin and fags …

‘Oh, Gawd,’ she breathed, as she had a sudden very nasty thought.

She dug frantically in the pocket of her dress. The key to her room was still there – but had she remembered to lock the door this morning?

Now those chaotic few hours returned to haunt her. She hadn’t locked the door because she’d been in and out of the room all morning – by the time she’d had to leave for work she was already late and in such a hurry she’d forgotten. The precious jar was still on top of the wardrobe – along with the passbook.

Sally leant against the wall and closed her eyes as the chill ran through her. ‘Please,’ she whispered. ‘Please, please don’t let her find that jar.’

‘Go and wait in the outer office,’ said Simmons, bustling past. ‘He’ll see you in a minute.’

Sally pushed away from the wall and found that she was unsteady and almost blinded by the fear that swept through her.

‘Are you all right, Miss Turner?’ Marjorie stopped thumping the keys on the typewriter.

‘I’m fine,’ she lied, sinking into the first chair she came across.

‘Well you don’t look it,’ she said, pouring a glass of water from a jug on her desk. ‘Drink this before you either faint or throw up. I’ve had enough dramas from your family this morning.’

Sally sipped the water, but her heart still thudded and she felt sick. All she could think about was that jar.

‘Miss Turner. Please come in. I understand you wish to see me on a personal matter?’

Sally followed him into the office and took the chair he indicated. There was, thankfully, no sign of Solomon. She made a concerted effort to focus on the reason for this interview. ‘I’ve come to hand in my notice, sir,’ she said.

‘I hope this has nothing to do with the unfortunate scene with your mother,’ he replied. ‘You’re a good worker, and an honest one, too. It would be a great shame to lose you.’

‘That’s very kind of you to say so, sir, but this has nothing to do with Florrie. You see, I’m leaving Cliffehaven.’ She calmly told him about evacuating the boys, and the likelihood that she wouldn’t be returning for the duration. ‘I’ll be sorry to leave, sir. I’ve enjoyed working here.’

‘I wish you luck, Miss Turner. It can’t be easy having to look after your brother in such circumstances.’ He smiled, his great jowly face creasing up like a pug dog’s. ‘I admire your courage and fortitude, and I’ll make sure you have a good reference to take with you.’

‘Thank you, sir. I would appreciate that, and I’m sorry if this leaves you in the lurch.’

‘When will you be leaving us?’

‘Probably by the end of the week. There’s no set date until the trains are running again, but I’ll work right up to the day I have to go.’

He stood to show the interview was over, and shook her hand. ‘It has been a pleasure knowing you, Miss Turner, and should you ever be in need of a job again, my door is always open.’

Sally spent the rest of her shift fretting and, with still an hour to go, she couldn’t wait any longer. Grabbing her things, she didn’t bother to explain to Simmons, and raced through the pitch-black streets for Beach View.

The house was silent as she stepped into the hall. The kitchen and dining room were deserted, with no tell-tale sounds of Cissy’s music, or the boys’ chattering coming from the basement. Peggy and Jim must have taken the boys to the cinema. They’d been promising this treat for some time, and as the boys would be leaving Cliffehaven soon, it was no surprise they’d chosen tonight.

She slowly climbed the stairs, reluctant to reach her room, but knowing she must. She steeled herself to open the door, and stood there numb with shock. The wardrobe was open, the drawers yawning – her clothes were scattered everywhere.

With fear squeezing her heart, she climbed on to the chair and frantically searched the top of the wardrobe. Her money and passbook were gone.

Sinking to the floor she burst into anguished tears of despair.

Chapter Fifteen

Sally didn’t know how long she’d sat there on the floor but, as the tears dried, the anguish turned to such anger she was shaking with it. She left her bedroom and opened Florrie’s door. The room still stank of her sickly perfume, but the drawers and cupboard were empty. Florrie had gone. ‘You bitch,’ Sally breathed. ‘You absolute bitch.’

She returned to her room and slowly began to pick up her clothes. It was soon clear that Florrie had taken her best skirt, her favourite blouse and the lovely sweater Peggy had given her at Christmas. But the loss of those expensive navy and white shoes was the final straw. The bitter tears over her mother’s betrayal fell silently down her face as she carefully folded her things back into the drawers and hung up her remaining jacket and two skirts.

Once the room was straight again, she went to wash her face and brush her hair, but as she stared at her wan reflection in the bathroom mirror, she felt a stab of fear that made her go cold. She raced down the stairs and into the dining room. The trunk was still there by the machine – but had Florrie taken her pick of the clothing Sally had laboured over for other people?

She knelt in front of it, and sighed with profound relief. A sturdy padlock had kept Florrie’s thieving hands at bay – and she knew she had Peggy to thank for that. But how shaming it was; how utterly awful that Peggy had thought to do it at all.

It just proved to Sally that she’d known what Florrie was capable of, but had this knowledge tainted the trust and love she’d been so certain of before today? Had it brought back memories of the accusations of theft at the factory? Her name had been cleared then, but would the doubts now be setting in?

Sally slowly went into the kitchen and put the kettle on the hob. As she waited for it to boil, she came to the conclusion it was a good thing she was leaving; for now, every time Peggy looked at her, she would see Florrie and wonder. She made the tea and took it upstairs. They would no doubt soon be home, but she didn’t yet have the courage to face them.

She was curled up on her bed when Peggy found her a short while later. ‘Sally? Oh, Sally, I was hoping to get home earlier, but the picture overran, and we could only walk at the same pace as Mrs Finch.’

Sally scrambled to her feet and hastily swiped away the remains of her tears. ‘She’s gone, Peggy. Cleared off and taken half me clothes and all me money.’

‘I had a feeling she might,’ she replied, ‘but the money’s safe. She didn’t take that.’

It was as if a great beam of light flooded the room as Sally stared at her. ‘But the jar’s gone – how …?’

‘I took it,’ she said hastily. ‘I was going to do something about it yesterday and it’s been worrying me ever since. I came up after you’d gone to work, found your door unlocked, and decided to put the jar in the floor-safe in my room.’

‘Oh, Peggy,’ she said, her voice hitching on a sob. ‘Thank you, thank you. I’m so sorry you’ve ’ad all this trouble. I feel so ashamed.’

Peggy wrapped her in her arms as she sobbed. ‘You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of,’ she soothed. ‘I’m just sorry you had to go through all this. That’s why I wanted to get home earlier, so I could explain what I’d done with your money before you discovered it was missing.’

Sally gently withdrew from Peggy’s embrace and blew her nose. ‘I can never thank you enough,’ she said, unable to meet her eye. ‘But it’s a good thing I’ll be leaving soon, cos then you won’t ’ave to keep locking doors.’

‘That’s quite enough of that,’ said Peggy sternly. ‘I have always trusted you, Sally, and I’m shocked you should think I’m so shallow as to believe you are anything like your mother. This is your home – will always be your home, even when you leave to start an independent life, as Anne is doing. So don’t you
dare
think otherwise.’

A spark of hope ignited. ‘You mean it?’

‘I never say things I don’t mean,’ she said, bristling. ‘Now, dry those eyes and sit down for a minute to catch your breath. A few bits of clothing can soon be replaced, so there’s no real harm done.’

‘But she took them – those – lovely shoes you gave me, and the sweater. I could never replace those.’

‘I’ve got a wardrobe full of Doris’s cast-off shoes, and I can always knit another sweater. Come on, Sally,’ she said with a soft smile, ‘cheer up, love. Worse things happen at sea, and at least she didn’t make off with all your sewing. Ron found that padlock in his shed, and the key’s quite safe.’

‘Oh, Peg, Ron and the others don’t know about her, do they?’