While We're Apart (18 page)

‘Never mind wonders and exotic ports,' she teased. ‘It's the exotic women I'm more worried about.'

He hugged her tightly and kissed her so hard she became breathless. ‘You're the only woman for me, Peggy Reilly, and don't you ever forget it.' He drew back and looked down at her, his eyes suspiciously bright. ‘We'll say our goodbyes here, darlin',' he said. ‘It's too hard on a station platform with you standing there looking so forlorn.'

‘But I want to come with you,' she gasped. ‘I want to be with you for every last second.'

‘No, it's better we do it here.' He held her close, his chin resting on the top of her dark curls. ‘I want to remember you in our home, with our baby – not standing on a cold draughty platform amongst strangers. Please, Peg.'

She couldn't speak so she nodded against his chest, the smell and feel of the khaki material already distancing him from her.

‘That's my girl,' he soothed as he kissed away her tears. ‘We'll all be together again soon, and this moment will be as swiftly forgotten as a bad dream. I promise.'

She kissed him fervently, wanting him to feel the love she had for him and to gain strength and courage from the knowledge that she would be here waiting for him.

Jim eventually drew reluctantly from her embrace and turned to Daisy. He picked her up and kissed her face, held her for a few moments and then tenderly set her back beneath the covers. Grabbing his kitbag and cap, he walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen.

‘Well, I'll be off then,' he said with enforced brightness. ‘You stay here in the warm and look after my Peggy, and I'll see you all when I next come home.'

Ignoring the general protest, he kissed and hugged Cordelia and the girls and then turned to his father. ‘Would you walk with me some of the way, Da?'

‘Aye, I'll do that,' Ron replied gruffly.

Peggy caught Jim's eye as his father pulled on his boots and coat. ‘I love you,' she mouthed over the chatter of the others.

He winked back at her as he settled his cap on his head and hoisted up his kitbag. And then he was turning away and running down the cellar steps to the back door, his father and Harvey hard on his heels.

Peggy followed them as the others remained, hushed, in the kitchen. Her shadow fell across the moonlit garden as she went down the path and into the twitten, her gaze fixed on Jim's back as he and his father walked towards the main street.

‘I love you, Peggy Reilly,' he called through the darkness, his voice echoing against the walls of the surrounding houses before he disappeared round the corner.

‘I love you too, James Michael Reilly,' she called back, her voice breaking as the tears began to stream hotly down her face. When she could no longer hear his footsteps, she turned away and closed the gate behind her. ‘I love you too,' she whispered.

PEGGY HAD MANAGED
to get through the past seven days surprisingly well, for the others had been endlessly supportive and she'd made sure she'd kept very busy. Yet there was no escaping the nights, and the restless dreams that left her with a dull headache and the sense that she'd slept for only a few minutes at the most.

Her mood wasn't improved by the awful weather or Daisy's temper tantrum as she refused to sit in the sink and be washed that morning. Peggy sympathised with Harvey as he slumped in despondency by the fire, his eyebrows twitching each time Daisy's high-pitched screams tore through the room and right through their heads, but there was nothing for it but to struggle on.

Daisy planted her feet firmly against the side of the large stone sink and stiffly resisted all of Peggy's efforts to sit her down as she bawled with fury and waved her fists about.

Peggy's skirt and sweater were soon soaked, which meant she would have to change before she went to do her stint at the Town Hall for the WVS. Feeling tired and very out of sorts, she gave up. After a hasty sponge-down, she lifted Daisy out and plonked her on her lap to dry her and get her dressed.

Daisy was having none of it and she arched her back, stiff as a rod, then squirmed and kicked as she yelled at the top of her voice.

‘To be sure 'tis enough to wake the dead,' grumbled Ron as he came into the kitchen and put the kettle on the range. ‘What the divil's got into her today?'

‘She's most likely teething again,' Peggy replied wearily as she finally managed to get the nappy pinned.

Ron scooped Daisy off Peggy's damp lap and bounced her in his arms, whereupon her tears immediately turned to gurgling laughter and she joyfully clapped her hands.

‘I don't know how you do that,' said Peggy, who was more than a little put out at Daisy's sudden change from virago to angel. ‘She's been nothing but a misery ever since she woke up.'

Ron grinned and managed to detach the tiny gripping fist that was tugging on his eyebrow. ‘Ach, well, she knows her grandda loves her, don't you,
Acushla
?'

Daisy giggled as he tickled her tummy.

‘You're as bad as each other,' Peggy complained as she warmed the teapot and hunted out a packet of aspirin. Her head was splitting and if she didn't take something for it now, she'd be in pain for the rest of the day.

Ron finished dressing Daisy, who was now as good as gold and burbling happily in his lap. ‘There we are,' he said triumphantly as he placed her in the high chair and handed her a wooden spoon. ‘Nothing to it if you've got the knack.'

Peggy swallowed two pills down with a slurp of tea and glared at him. ‘Very clever, I'm sure.' She took the pot of left-over potato from the large corner larder and heated up a pan with some of the horrid, fishy margarine they were forced to use now. ‘I hope the hens are laying well,' she muttered. ‘I've only got three eggs to go with this, and I don't want to use that powdered stuff unless I absolutely have to.'

Ron lumbered off down the cellar steps, leaving Daisy to bash the wooden spoon against the tray of her high chair. Peggy was tempted to take it away from her, for every bang seemed to ring in her poor head, but Daisy would only start bawling again, so it was the lesser of two evils.

She concentrated on cooking the potato until it was golden and crisp at the edges, and put one of her precious eggs into boiling water for Daisy. A boiled egg and soldiers always had a soothing effect on her, and as she was entitled to two eggs a week, Peggy didn't see why she shouldn't have them.

Ron returned with a china bowl and placed it carefully on the draining board. ‘It's a good thing Suzy and Fran are on night shift and will have their breakfast at the hospital,' he said. ‘The hens appear to have gone on strike after that raid last night.'

Peggy regarded the two brown eggs in the bottom of the bowl. ‘I don't feel like egg this morning anyway,' she muttered, ‘so there are enough to go round as Jane's already at the dairy.'

‘You'll be eating your egg, Peggy,' Ron said, his bushy brows lowering over his blue eyes. ‘To be sure you do the work of ten men, and I can always get a snack at Rosie's to tide me over until lunchtime.'

‘How is Rosie?' she asked as she spooned the egg from the water to Daisy's egg cup and smeared some margarine on the browned toast.

Ron began to slice the toast into fingers. ‘To be sure she's not her usual sunny self,' he admitted as he chopped the top off Daisy's egg. ‘She tells me she always feels depressed around this time of year, but I think it's more than just the weather and the early dark of every afternoon.'

Peggy drank her tea and said nothing as her father-in-law began to feed Daisy. She knew all about Rosie's sadness, and the reason behind it, but she was distressed to hear that her friend was still suffering after all this time. It just went to show, she thought, how very deep that initial betrayal had gone. ‘I'll pop in and try to cheer her up when I've finished at the Town Hall,' she said.

‘Aye, she'd enjoy that.' He looked at her quizzically as Daisy smeared egg and toast over her face. ‘You wouldn't know what's wrong with her, would you? Is it just a woman thing, or is there something that really bothers her this time every year?'

‘It's a woman thing,' she said truthfully, ‘so it would probably be best if you made yourself scarce for the afternoon.'

Ron gave a deep sigh as he fed Daisy more egg and toast. ‘Aye, I'll do that. I hate seeing her brought so low, and she's refused point-blank to talk to me about it.'

Breakfast was its usual hurried, noisy affair, and once the girls had left for their day at work and Cordelia was settled by the fire with the newspapers, Peggy decided her clothes had dried enough not to have to change.

Having made the bed and whipped round with a broom and duster, sorted out with Cordelia what she could have for lunch and washed down the kitchen lino, she was ready to leave for the Town Hall. With Daisy firmly strapped into the pram and well insulated from the weather in layers of wool, she fastened the rain-cover and pulled up the hood. Slipping into comfortable shoes, she pulled on her raincoat and headscarf and waited for Ron to get the pram down the cellar steps. At least it's stopped raining, she thought as she wheeled the pram down Camden Road, but that wind is like a knife.

By the time she'd reached the High Street her face was frozen and her eyes were streaming, so it was something of a relief to pass into the shelter of the stacked sandbags that guarded the Town Hall's marble steps. There wasn't a Home Guard member on duty today to help her, so she dragged the pram up step by step, and was soon in the warm, fusty fug of the hall. She was looking forward to a cuppa and a fag before she started her morning's work.

Having parked the large coach-built pram in a corner, she checked on Daisy who was now, thankfully, asleep, took off the pram's rain-cover and put down the hood. Hanging her coat over the handlebar, she pulled her wrap-round pinny out of her bag and tied it tightly around her slender frame. With the scarf tied into a knot over her hair and the apron covering her from shoulder to knee, she was ready to tackle whatever was needed – but first that cuppa.

She weaved round the laden trestle tables which were heaped with donated clothes, shoes, cooking utensils, toys and books, and returned the greetings from the other women who were busy filling comfort boxes for the troops. The WVS did a marvellous job, and Peggy was proud to be a small part of it all, even though she usually only sorted clothes or made sandwiches and tea to give the troops a bit of refreshment when they stopped at the station on their way to God knew where. The really good news was they'd been selected to have one of the proper motorised wagons that the Queen had so generously funded, so at least they didn't have to lug the old one up and down the hill, and could drive the new vehicle anywhere it might be needed during an emergency.

Peggy walked through the chaos into the café which had been set up to provide tea and snacks, and bring in some much-needed money. The WVS didn't only cater for the troops, or provide tea and sympathy after a bombing raid; they did sterling work for the homeless, which was why the main hall was filled with mattresses every night. Thankfully the numbers had dwindled over the past few months as the raids had decreased, but there were always new arrivals now the factories were going day and night, so there was always someone in need of a bed.

Peggy paid for her tea and biscuit and sat down to enjoy a cigarette before she got stuck in. She rather hoped she wouldn't be put in charge of sorting out the donated clothing, for people didn't seem to think it necessary to wash anything before they gave it away, and at the end of the morning her hands would be filthy and she'd smell of old, unwashed cloth.

‘Margaret.'

Peggy started at the sound of her sister's voice. That was all she needed today. She looked over her shoulder to find Doris was looming and clearly in one of her bossier moods. ‘Hello, Doris,' she said as she took in her immaculate appearance. ‘You're not usually here at this time of day.'

Doris sat down, tugged down her tailored green uniform jacket and smoothed the skirt over her knees. Her hair looked freshly set, her make-up was flawless and her polished shoes and handbag were made of the best brown leather. ‘I have been asked to run the café this morning,' she announced as she looked scathingly at the woman standing behind the urn. ‘But unfortunately I have a prior engagement, so I would appreciate it if you would stand in for me.'

Peggy wasn't at all surprised her sister was wriggling out of her morning's duty. Doris didn't like getting her manicured hands dirty. ‘What's the prior engagement?' she asked.

‘Margaret, I really don't feel I have to explain anything. Will you do it or not?'

‘Not if you're skiving,' said Peggy as she stubbed out her cigarette and folded her arms.

Doris's expression was pained. ‘I do wish you wouldn't use such vulgarities, Margaret. It's so common.' She edged forward in her seat. ‘I have to meet the billeting people, not that it's any of your business. I caught one of those ghastly factory girls trying to sneak a man in last night, and I will not tolerate such behaviour.'

‘Quite rightly,' murmured Peggy. ‘But you can't just throw her out, not unless she has somewhere else to go.'

‘I already have,' said Doris flatly. ‘I put her, bag and baggage, on the doorstep last night.'

‘That's a bit harsh, but I can't say I blame you.'

Doris arched a finely plucked brow. ‘I'm glad we've finally managed to agree on something, Margaret.'

‘I do wish you'd call me Peggy like everyone else,' she sighed.

Both eyebrows shot up. ‘Why on earth should I do that? Margaret is a perfectly respectable name, and being called Peggy by everyone makes the wrong sort of people overfamiliar.'

Peggy snorted in disgust at her snobbery. ‘I'll do the café, but you owe me, Doris, and I won't let you get away with it again.' She held her sister's gaze. ‘By the way, I haven't heard from Jim since he left for the Far East; Daisy's well but teething, and the rest of the household is bumbling along just fine – thanks for asking,' she said with deep sarcasm.