There'll Be Blue Skies (41 page)

‘They didn’t need to know anything. We all love you and have absolute faith in your honesty, so why taint it with Florrie’s actions?’ She gave a little sigh. ‘You see, I heard you and Florrie last night, and saw you going downstairs with the things she’d filched. I so wanted to say something then, but it was clear you were already very upset, and I didn’t want to make things worse.’

Sally slipped her arm round her waist as they both sat on the bed. It was so good to know this lovely woman and her family really did care about her and Ernie. ‘How am I going to explain to Ernie that Florrie’s done a runner?’

‘Tell him the truth. I don’t think he’ll be too upset,’ said Peggy. ‘He’s hardly seen her since she arrived, and from the little he’s said, I think he rather wishes she hadn’t come at all.’

Sally nodded, accepting Peggy was right. ‘But where could she have gone? She got the sack today, so Solomon won’t take her in.’

‘She probably headed straight for the station and the first train out.’

‘But the trains aren’t running.’

‘Actually,’ said Peggy, ‘they are. I had a call from the Billeting Office this afternoon. You and the boys will be leaving the day after tomorrow.’

‘So soon?’ she whispered.

‘That’s why we thought we’d go to the pictures as a last treat for the boys. It turned into quite a family outing. Anne made it back from her interview in time, Cissy didn’t have a show tonight and Mrs Finch decided she didn’t want to be left behind. We even bumped into Pearl in the town and she joined us.’ She gave a soft chuckle. ‘Only Ron was absent. He decided to sit and watch Rosie Braithwaite instead of
The Wizard of Oz
.’

‘I wish I could have come too,’ she murmured.

‘We’ll all go when you come back home – and that’s a promise. Now, come on, Sally, wash your face and brush your hair. Everyone’s downstairs, and with only two nights left before this family is cast to the winds, we must make the best of them.’

It was a warm, happy evening, despite the knowledge it would be one of their last together for what could turn out to be a long time. The three false alarms which had them scurrying back and forth across the garden hadn’t helped much, but it wasn’t until Sally was getting Ernie ready for bed that he asked about Florrie.

‘She’s gorn, ain’t she?’ he said, as he grimly withstood the wet flannel that was being energetically scrubbed round his neck and ears.

‘Yes, love. She’s gone back to London.’

‘Didn’t she like it ’ere?’

‘Not really. I think she missed her mates back in Bow.’

‘She don’t like us, either, does she?’ Ernie’s brown eyes studied her closely. ‘Cos she never come to play with me. And I ’eard you and ’er ’aving a row last night.’

Sally was shocked he’d overheard and didn’t quite know how to answer him. ‘Families always have rows,’ she said, drying him off. ‘Me and Mum never really got on, but I’m sure she likes us really.’

‘Well I don’t like ’er,’ he said with a grimace. ‘She ain’t cuddly and nice smelling like Aunt Peg. I’m glad she’s gorn.’

Sally gave him a hug. She hadn’t been fooled by his brave words – he was bitterly disappointed in Florrie, and her leaving him again after such a fleeting and unsatisfactory return had been a bitter lesson for them both.

She put him to bed and read him a story. When he was asleep, she pulled on a cardigan and went back downstairs. The house was quiet now everyone was in bed, and she slipped out of the front door into the night. She was exhausted, but knew she was far from sleep, and the soft, salty air and the sigh of the sea against the gravel were calling her.

It was a beautiful night, with a million stars twinkling against the velvet black of the heavens. There was a bomber’s moon, shedding its glow over Cliffehaven’s roofs and empty streets, gilding the destruction and chaos into an almost magical landscape.

She reached the seafront, having avoided being accosted by wardens or watchmen, and although she knew she shouldn’t be wandering about on her own, it was good to breathe in the clean air, and to have time to let her thoughts wander as she drank in the essence of Cliffehaven.

As she instilled the sights and scents into her heart, she knew these memories would sustain her all the while she was away, for she would miss this place much more than she’d ever missed Bow. It was here that she’d discovered what a real family was; it was here that she’d come to learn that life could be better if only she took the time and effort to improve her speech, and to learn to read and write. It was also here that she’d experienced her first kiss, and the heartbreak of losing the man she’d thought had returned her love.

Staring out at the water that glistened like silk beneath the moon’s glow, she pulled her cardigan more firmly over her chest. His name still echoed in her heart, but soon she would be leaving and they would probably never meet again. How strange and unsettling life was – how uncertain the future.

She strolled along the seafront, heading for the fishing station. Nothing moved down there, for a strict curfew forbade night fishing. She stood and looked at the
Seagull
, remembering the day she’d returned, battered but unbowed, from Dunkirk, and how Jim’s heart-rending story had touched them all.

Not wanting to think of such things, she turned quickly away, only to realise there was someone lurking in the nearby shelter. She experienced a stab of unease. It was clear he’d been watching her for – as she’d turned – he’d swiftly dodged back into the shadows.

She looked behind her and into the distance, her unease turning to fear. Apart from the soldiers manning one of the big guns several hundred yards down the prom, she was quite alone. ‘Who’s there?’ she called, her voice cracking.

The figure shifted in the shadows.

She trembled and her mouth dried. He looked big and bulky, his shoulders strangely hunched. He was clearly up to no good. She glanced towards the distant gun emplacement. If she made a run for it, she’d have to get past him first. She gathered every ounce of courage. ‘Show yourself,’ she ordered, ‘or I’ll scream for help.’

He slowly emerged from the shadows, and Sally saw he was indeed a tall man, made bulky by the long overcoat he was wearing, his shoulders hunched as he leant heavily on the crutches. His face was in shadow, hidden beneath the brim of his hat.

‘What you doing, scaring the living daylights out of people?’ she demanded, her fear making her angry. Crippled or not, he had no right to frighten her like that.

He stood there for a heartbeat of time, his chin sunk into the collar of his coat, his face in deep shadow. And then he turned and slowly moved away from her, his progress hesitant and ungainly.

Sally’s pulse stopped racing as she saw how difficult it was for him, and she wished she hadn’t been quite so sharp. Like her, the poor man had probably only been out for a bit of fresh air and some quiet contemplation.

She was about to head back to Beach View when his foot caught on a rough edge of broken pavement. He tried to keep his balance, but the crutch clattered to the ground and, with a loud oath, he hit the concrete.

Sally rushed to his side. ‘Let me help you,’ she breathed.

‘I don’t need your help,’ he snarled. ‘Go away Sally. Just for the love of God leave me be.’

She stared at him in disbelief as he scrabbled for the fallen crutch. ‘John?’ she breathed, touching his shoulder. ‘John, is it really you?’

‘Of course it bloody well is,’ he snarled, shrugging off her hand and grabbing the crutch. He tried getting to one knee, battling desperately to keep his balance and haul himself up. The crutch lost purchase on the broken concrete, and skittered away and, with a deep, agonised groan, his knee gave way and he crashed to the ground again.

She instinctively rushed to help.

‘Go away,’ he hissed. ‘I don’t want you seeing me like this.’

She had been consumed by a cocktail of love, sadness and shock, but she swiftly gathered her wits. ‘Don’t be stupid,’ she retorted. ‘You need help.’

‘No, I don’t,’ he insisted, struggling to sit up.

‘Well I’m not leaving you here on your arse in the middle of the night,’ she said crossly. She grabbed his arm and put it over her shoulder. ‘But you’ve got to help me, John, you’re too heavy to lift on me own. Can you put your weight on your good leg?’

‘That’s just it,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t possess a good leg.’

‘Then do the best you can,’ she replied, trying her hardest not to let him see how shocked she was by his helplessness. ‘I’ll count to three. Ready?’

His expression was stormy as he nodded.

He wasn’t as heavy as she’d expected, but even so, Sally almost buckled as he leant on her and hauled himself to his feet. She steadied him, aware that he was glaring down at her almost defiantly, and concentrated on retrieving the crutches.

‘Thanks.’ He rammed them under his armpits. ‘Sorry to be a nuisance,’ he mumbled. ‘Good night.’

‘Oh, no you don’t, John Hicks.’ She barred his way, hands on hips, glaring up at him. ‘You owe me an explanation, and I’m not moving until I get one.’

‘There’s nothing to say,’ he replied, refusing to meet her angry gaze. ‘You can see how things are. One leg’s made out of tin, and the other’s been broken so many times it’s got more metal in it than a Lancaster bomber.’

‘Is that why you wrote that horrid letter? Because you didn’t think I’d want any more to do with you now you’re injured?’

‘That’s about the size of it,’ he said evenly. He looked at some distant point over her shoulder. ‘You’re young. You’ll get over it.’

She slapped his face, the sound of it echoing along the silent seafront – shocking them both. ‘How
dare
you think so little of me?’ she snapped.

He looked at her then, his dark blue eyes delving to her very soul as they stood beneath the stars.

There were messages in his eyes she couldn’t read, and a sense of helplessness and sorrow in his expression that made her want to hold him and tell him everything would be all right. That she loved him no matter what – and that together they could get through this.

But he broke the spell and looked away, the small muscle working in his jaw. ‘I don’t love you, Sally. I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea, but there it is. Whatever we had has gone, so just accept that and get on with your life.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ she said softly. ‘You did love me, I know you did – and I loved you too. She stepped closer and breathed in the familiar scent of him, yearning to feel his arms round her, his lips against her mouth. ‘I never stopped loving you, John,’ she whispered, tentatively cupping his cheek with her hand. ‘Please don’t break my heart all over again.’

He flinched from her touch and edged away. ‘Stop it, Sally, you’re making a fool of yourself.’

Sally took a step back, shocked by his vehemence.

But he seemed determined to hurt her, determined to twist the knife. ‘I don’t love you; I never loved you. It was just a bit of fun, and never meant to be anything more. Go home to Beach View, Sally, and forget me.’

She didn’t want to believe him, couldn’t believe him – and yet there was such coldness in his tone, and his face looked as if it had been hewn from the same concrete that lay under their feet. She reached out her hand to him, but he stood there like a rock, unmovable and impenetrable. ‘I don’t want to forget you,’ she said, on the verge of tears. ‘This can’t be goodbye, John. It just can’t.’

He looked down at her, holding her gaze with the coolness of someone who didn’t care. Then, without another word, he turned away and headed towards the other end of the promenade.

Sally watched him through her tears and noted that his shoulders were hunched more than ever, his progress slower and even more laborious. The hope burned in her that he’d change his mind, that he’d know she was praying for him to turn back to her. But he continued down the promenade and never looked back.

She felt the tears roll hot down her face as she stumbled from the seafront and began the long climb towards Beach View. Seeing him again had brought her love for him flooding back, and in the moment when he’d looked into her eyes, she’d thought he’d felt the same way. But what a fool she’d been to ever believe someone like John could ever love her – how naïve to think she might have meant more to him than just a bit of fun. Dear, God, how it hurt.

Her dreams that night were troubled, her emotions soaring and ebbing as if she was on a giant roller coaster at the fairground. But, as morning dawned and she prepared for her last day at Beach View, she decided she wouldn’t mention John and their encounter on the seafront, for it would achieve nothing.

Determined to keep up a cheerful front and not make things even harder for everyone, she washed and dressed and even put on mascara and a dash of lipstick. If bravado was going to get her through the day, then so be it.

It seemed Peggy had come to the same conclusion for, although her greeting was cheerful as she sat at her usual place at the breakfast table, her smile didn’t quite reach her reddened eyes. She turned her attention quickly to cutting up the Spam fritters for Ernie. ‘Will you be going in to work today? Only there’s the packing to finish, the last-minute shopping, and a hundred and one things I’ve probably forgotten.’

‘I’ll ring the factory in a minute and warn them I’ll only be in to collect my wages, drop off the sewing and say goodbye to everyone. It shouldn’t take long, and then I can help you.’