There'll Be Blue Skies (7 page)

The boy was settling in well, thanks to Charlie and Ron, but she was worried about Sally. She looked about fourteen and was too thin and pale, far too young to have the responsibility of looking after Ernie as well as holding down a job in a factory. What was her mother thinking of?

Peggy sighed and put down her knitting. The girl had put on a brave face during the evening, and Peggy admired her spirit, but it was clear she’d been crying beforehand, and was no doubt feeling homesick and disorientated. It would be hard for her until she found her feet, and Peggy fully understood why. This large house full of strangers must be daunting after what she suspected were a mean few rooms in Bow. At least there she would have been amongst her own people who looked out for her. She’d heard about the strong community spirit in the East End, and hoped for Sally’s sake it was true. She couldn’t bear the thought that she’d struggled alone.

She had tried gently questioning her as they’d washed the dishes and put them away, but Sally was a proud little thing and had revealed very little, other than that her mother worked in a factory and her father was a merchant seaman. Reading between the lines, Peggy suspected there was little love lost between mother and daughter, but Sally’s face had lit up when she talked about her father. It was clear he meant the world to her, and was probably the lynchpin that held the little family together despite his long absences at sea.

She tucked the knitting away in its bag, turned off the wireless, and stared into the red heart of the fire. At least Sally had been given a stamped addressed envelope so she could send a note to her mother telling her where they were – but the girl’s doubt that there would be a reply was an indication of the mother’s lack of concern, and Peggy had had to resist the urge to add a strongly worded postscript. It wouldn’t help anyone – least of all Sally and Ernie.

Peggy gave a deep sigh. They were a pair of waifs, and her soft heart yearned to make things right for them during the time they were with her – but she knew she must never overstep the mark and take on the role of mother to either of them, for one day they would have to go back to where they came from, and she had her own children to look after.

‘Excuse please. I not disturb?’

Peggy gave a start. ‘My goodness, you made me jump, Mr Chemy … Chemyes …’

‘Please, you must call me Alex,’ he reminded her gently, as he stepped into the kitchen. ‘I am sorry to make you jump, but I not have the right money for meter in my room.’

She smiled up at him and got to her feet to reach for the tin on the mantelpiece. He had lovely manners and was probably the most charming guest ever to have set foot in her house. She would quite miss him when he left. ‘That’s easily sorted. Come and sit by the fire while I find some change. It must be cold up there.’

His smile creased the corners of his eyes as he perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. ‘I am used to the winters in Poland, Mrs Reilly. But with no fire to give colour and life, it is a little bleak, I think.’

She wasn’t sure if he meant the weather was bleak, or if he was referring to his room. Deciding it was just his being Polish that made it difficult for him to express himself properly, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. After all, she reasoned, he’d only arrived a couple of weeks ago. She took his pound note, stuffed it in the tin and gave him the right money back.

‘You will please explain these coins to me?’ He spread them on the table.

Peggy sorted through them. ‘This is a shilling, what we call a “bob”, and this is sixpence – that’s half a shilling, but it’s usually called a “tanner”, and these are threepenny bits. These big ones are half-crowns – they’re worth two shilling and sixpence. The sixpenny bits go in the meter.’

Aleksy frowned, clearly still baffled.

She tipped some pennies and farthings from the tin to help her explain more clearly. ‘So,’ she said, ‘there’re four of these farthings to the penny. Twelve pennies to the bob, and twenty bob to the pound – or what some call a “quid”.’

He reached into the breast-pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small notebook and a stub of pencil. As Peggy went through it all again, he noted it down before returning the pad to his pocket. ‘Thank you. It is most complicated, I think. I will learn like schoolboy, as with my English, eh?’

She liked his smile: it lit up his eyes and took the sadness away. He must be lonely so very far from home where everything from the language to the money was strange and confusing – but then her home seemed to be a magnet for the lost and dispossessed these days.

‘Don’t feel you have to go,’ she said, as he gathered up the coins and rose from the chair. ‘I was just going to make some cocoa – it will have to be powdered milk, I’m afraid; the boys finished the fresh at teatime.’ She smiled up at him warmly. ‘Would you like some?’

‘Ah, the famous English cocoa. I have heard of this. Thank you. I would like to try.’ He sat down again, his long legs stretched towards the warmth of the fire as he lit a cigarette.

Peggy measured out the powdered milk and added water to the pan before setting it on the hotplate. Stirring in the cocoa powder, she was aware of him watching her closely. ‘It won’t really taste the same without proper milk, but needs must.’

‘I am certain it will be delicious,’ he murmured.

She waited for it to thicken and carefully divided it between the two mugs. To her annoyance, her hand slipped as she was carrying it to the table, and she splashed hot cocoa on to the cloth.

‘I will clean.’

Before she could protest, he’d leapt to his feet, fetched the cloth from the sink, wiped away the spill, rinsed out the cloth and hung it over the tap. This was such an unusual sight that Peggy could only stare at him.

‘I am sorry,’ he said with a frown. ‘You not like me to do this thing?’

Gathering her wits, she gave an uncertain laugh. ‘You can do any job you like about the place,’ she said. ‘It’s just a surprise to see a man lend a hand, that’s all.’

His frown deepened. ‘Your husband, he does not do these things?’

‘It would never occur to him,’ she muttered. Realising she was being disloyal, she swiftly added, ‘But then he’s good at other things.’ What these were, she couldn’t quite recall, and she covered her embarrassment by taking the proffered cigarette from the packet of Park Drive and letting him light it.

‘I like this cocoa,’ said Aleksy, after he’d taken a sip. ‘It is very good.’

‘That’s good,’ she replied, fishing a shred of tobacco from her tongue. ‘You’ll probably get quite a lot of it if you’re staying in England a while.’

‘I am here for as long as the RAF needs me,’ he said. ‘But of course I will not always be permitted to remain in your delightful home. I will soon be sent to the airbase barracks to help instruct the Polish fliers.’

She laughed and shot a glance over the battered furniture, worn lino and draughty windows. ‘I’d hardly call this delightful,’ she replied. ‘The whole kitchen needs a coat of paint, new windows and lino – and I don’t know what else.’

His handsome face grew solemn, his eyes darkening with some inner pain. ‘It is delightful, Mrs Reilly, because it is a home. You have your family here – and that is the most important of things, I think.’

She nodded in agreement and thoughtfully puffed on the cigarette. She was certainly lucky she didn’t have sons old enough to be involved in the fighting. ‘Where is your home, Alex?’

‘Warsaw,’ he said quietly, gazing now into the depths of his cocoa. ‘My family is still there. They did not manage to escape the siege.’ He lifted his head, his eyes unnaturally bright. ‘I do not know if they are still alive. But I pray each night that they are.’

Peggy felt terrible. ‘Oh, Alex. And here’s me moaning about a bit of paint and lino.’ She took a sip of cocoa, her thoughts focused on the awful news reports that had come out of Poland in recent weeks. ‘How did you manage to escape to England?’

He seemed to pull himself together, and even managed a wry smile. ‘I was pilot in Spain during Civil War. I was shot down and taken prisoner. But I finally manage to escape and get back to my squadron.’

‘You must have been very brave,’ she murmured.

He gave a self-deprecating smile and shrugged as he threw the stub of his cigarette into the fire. ‘I am very careless, for I was shot down again. I am in hospital for long time. When I am better the war in Spain is over, but Warsaw is under siege and I cannot go home.’

He scrubbed his face with his hands, the gold of his wedding ring glinting in the firelight. ‘I try so hard to reach my family, but is impossible now my country is in enemy hands. Now all I can do is wait and pray that I may see them again.’

‘I hope your prayers are answered,’ she said softly.

‘Thank you,’ he murmured. ‘It has been good to speak of them. When I am with other Poles we do not talk of families and home – it is not good for keeping mind clear for job we must do.’ He dug into the breast-pocket again and pulled out a worn leather wallet. ‘You would like to see photograph? I carry it for long time, but I look at it every night.’

She took the creased and faded photograph and regarded the sweetly pretty face of his dark-haired wife and smiling child who sat beside another young woman and an elderly couple in what looked like a sunlit garden. She felt tears prick as she handed the precious photograph back. ‘You have a lovely family, Alex. Thank you for showing me.’

‘It is I who am in your debt.’ He finished the cocoa and stood. Taking her hand, he kissed the air above it as he clicked his heels and bowed. ‘And now I return to my English books. I do not have my sister’s skill with languages, so I must work very hard I think. Good night, Mrs Reilly.’

Peggy sat for a long while after he’d left, staring into the flames, trying to imagine how it must feel to not know if your entire family were alive or dead. She had so many things to be grateful for.

‘Mum? I didn’t expect you to still be up.’

Peggy emerged from her thoughts and smiled as Anne slipped off her coat and sat beside her. ‘Did you have a good evening? Where did he take you?’

‘We went dancing at the Regency Hotel.’ She eased off her high-heeled peep-toed shoes and wriggled her feet. ‘I don’t think I’ve sat down all evening. Those RAF boys certainly know how to wear a girl out.’

‘Well, it doesn’t seem to have harmed you much,’ said Peggy with a smile. ‘Want some cocoa?’

Anne shook her head and sat forward, her expression suddenly serious. ‘He wants to take me to meet his parents,’ she said.

‘Well, that’s a good thing isn’t it?’

‘I suppose so, but it’s all a bit soon, don’t you think?’

‘I suppose it is, but with the way things are at the moment, there’s not much point in hanging about.’ Peggy studied her daughter, seeing the battle of hope and doubt in her expression and wondered what it was that was holding her back. ‘But if you’re not sure about your feelings, I agree, it would be wise to wait a bit.’

‘He got his orders today,’ she said quietly. ‘He’s leaving Cliffehaven Monday week.’

‘Oh.’

‘He can’t tell me where he’s going, of course, but he promises it isn’t too far away, and that he’ll be able to see me when he’s on leave or stood down.’ She flicked back her hair and fidgeted with the hem of her sweater, her gaze not quite meeting her mother’s. ‘He says his parents want to meet me, and that they’ve invited me to lunch next Sunday.’ Her brown eyes finally settled on her mother. ‘I can’t really refuse, can I? It would be terribly rude.’

Peggy had watched her closely and suspected she knew the reason behind her reluctance. ‘You don’t have to accept the invitation,’ she began. ‘If they still want to meet you in a few weeks’ time, you can go then.’ She touched her daughter’s hand. ‘Are you afraid that if you go, it will give out the wrong message?’

Anne nodded. ‘We’ve only known each other a couple of months, and meeting his parents is taking things a bit too quickly.’

‘Have you told him that?’

‘Mmm. But he said he didn’t want to wait any longer, and what with him already flying missions, he doesn’t want to risk …’ Her brown eyes were tear-filled as she looked at her mother. ‘I don’t know what to do, Mum,’ she murmured. ‘I do love him, really I do, and it would be simply awful if anything happened to him. But it’s all moving so fast, and I feel I’m being pressured.’

Peggy stood and gathered her into her arms. ‘Then tell him you’ll see his parents another time, and that you need to be certain about things before you rush into them. If he loves you, he’ll understand.’

There were questions Peggy wanted to ask, but was afraid to hear the answers, so she kept silent. She and Jim had met when he was on leave during the First World War. They had rushed into things and, before she’d known it, she was expecting Anne. Jim had done the right thing by marrying her, but those first years had been tough, and there had been many a time since then that she’d doubted whether he really loved her.

But then Jim had never been a man to turn down the favours of a pretty woman and, although it broke her heart, she’d had to live with that knowledge, and rein him in when things got overheated. They were happy enough, and she still adored him, but like his father, he was a man who walked his own path.

‘We haven’t … you know … Done anything,’ said Anne hesitantly, her face reddening.

‘Good,’ said Peggy firmly. ‘Just you make sure it stays that way until you get a wedding ring on your finger.’