While We're Apart (5 page)

Peggy watched her leave the kitchen to go and get changed. Jane worked at the dairy with the shire horses in the early mornings, and then did the books for the local uniform-factory owner each afternoon. She was a sweet, rather naïve girl and much less sophisticated than her older sister Sarah. Both girls were still homesick, even after all these months, and there was the added worry over their father and Sarah's fiancé, neither of whom had been heard of since the fall of Singapore.

Rita came clumping up the cellar steps, the rain slicking off her heavy-duty trousers and the old flying jacket that she wore over her fire-service uniform. ‘Whew! It's filthy out there,' she said as she pulled off the sheepskin-lined jacket and plumped down on a chair to untie her bootlaces. ‘At least this weather will keep the planes grounded, so there's no danger of a raid or any fires to tackle.' She ruffled her fingers through her mop of dark curls and grinned at everyone.

‘I expect everyone at the fire station will be glad to have a night off,' Suzy remarked, as she put the dinner plates to warm in the smaller of the two ovens.

‘Oh, we are,' Rita agreed cheerfully as she grabbed one of Fran's clean towels and roughly dried her hair. ‘And I wouldn't mind betting the boys up at Cliffe aerodrome are feeling just the same.'

Fran snatched back the towel. ‘This was for Peggy,' she said. ‘Now you've got it all wet.'

‘Keep your hair on, Fran,' replied Rita. ‘I'll bring down another one after I've got changed.' She shot Fran an impish grin, gave Cordelia a kiss on the cheek and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

‘My goodness,' sighed Cordelia with a little shrug of pleasure. ‘How that girl has changed since she met Matthew.'

‘It just goes to show what love can do,' said Suzy happily.

Fran gave a dramatic groan. ‘Honest to God, Suzy, I'll be glad when you're married. All this starry-eyed nonsense is getting me down.'

Suzy laughed. ‘Jealousy will get you nowhere, Fran. You wait. It'll happen to you one day.'

‘Hmph.' Fran folded her arms and tried hard to appear at ease with the fact she'd only recently fallen foul of a lying toerag of a married American whom she'd adored. ‘With all the hours I have to do at the hospital, chance would be a fine thing – not that I'm at all bothered.'

‘When you've all quite finished discussing your love lives,' grumbled Ron, ‘perhaps we could have our tea. Me stomach's sticking to me backbone, so it is.'

‘I'll dish up when Sarah gets in,' said Peggy. ‘She'll need warming up after her long walk back from the Cliffe estate.'

Peggy sat down and spooned the cooled stew into Daisy's mouth. She was rather worried about Sarah, if the truth was told. It was a long, exposed walk across the hills from the estate where she worked in the office for the Women's Timber Corps – and it was pitch black out there.

Ten minutes later she realised she couldn't keep everyone waiting any longer and began to dish up. She had just sat down when she heard the front door slam and hurrying footsteps across the hall. Looking up as the girl entered the kitchen, she realised immediately that Sarah had not walked home, for her WTC uniform was only lightly speckled with rain. Curiosity sparked, but she made no mention of her appearance, for no doubt Sarah would explain sooner or later.

‘You're very late,' Peggy said. ‘I was getting worried about you.'

‘I'm so sorry, Auntie Peg,' Sarah said rather breathlessly as she took off her heavy overcoat. ‘We had an audit, and it went on much longer than we expected. I would have telephoned, but Captain Hammond insisted upon giving me a lift home, and promised I wouldn't be more than a few minutes later than usual.' She glanced at the clock on the mantel as if to confirm this.

At the mention of this mysterious Captain Hammond, Peggy's natural curiosity was on full alert. ‘Well, it is only twenty minutes over your usual time,' she said as she served the stew. ‘It was very kind of the Captain to bring you home,' she continued with studied care. ‘You should have brought him in and introduced him.'

‘He had to get back to his duties,' Sarah replied.

Fran giggled. ‘Perhaps she's keeping him all to herself, Auntie Peg.'

Sarah reddened. ‘It's not like that at all,' she said firmly. ‘He just gave me a lift home when he realised how far I had to walk in this appalling weather.'

‘I just bet he did,' retorted Fran sourly. ‘The Yanks are nothing but charming and helpful when they're after something.'

Sarah carefully put down her knife and fork. ‘Fran, don't be like that. You had a bad experience with that Chuck, I know, but not all Americans are out for what they can get. Captain Hammond is an ordinary, very nice man who kindly offered me a lift – so I'd appreciate it if you didn't make more of it than it really is.'

Fran was about to reply when Peggy cut in sharply. ‘Sarah's right, Fran. You're trying to make something out of nothing. And you seem to forget that Sarah's engaged to Philip. She isn't interested in other men.'

Fran reddened at the mild rebuke. ‘I was just teasing,' she muttered.

As the meal progressed and Harvey was surreptitiously fed morsels of the rabbits he'd helped to catch, the atmosphere lightened and conversation flowed round the table. Rita rushed in looking very pretty in a pink sweater and black slacks, her dark eyes bright with anticipation of her evening out. Having kissed Peggy and Cordelia goodbye, she pulled on a raincoat and headscarf and rushed out again to meet Matthew in the Anchor for a drink before the pictures.

Once the dishes were cleared away and washed, Peggy bathed Daisy and settled her in her cot with her favourite teddy. She then made another pot of rather weak tea while Jane read the newspaper, Fran opened her vanity case, Sarah did some mending and Cordelia tackled her knitting with help and advice from Suzy.

Ron warily eyed the vanity case, scissors and brushes. ‘Well, I'll be off to walk Harvey and then see Rosie,' he said as he dragged on the long waterproof poacher's coat over his second-best trousers, reasonably new shirt and knitted sweater. ‘This is no place for man nor beast if you're about to turn it into a beauty parlour.'

Harvey eagerly wagged his tail and followed closely behind Ron's heels as he went down the concrete steps to the cellar and out into the teeming rain.

The women shared a knowing smile as the back door slammed, and then Fran became businesslike. ‘I'll have to dampen your hair again, Auntie Peg,' she said as she held the brush under the tap. ‘The setting lotion doesn't work if it's dry.'

Peggy sat still and finished her cigarette as Fran placed a towel over her shoulders, ran the wet brush through her hair and then combed in the lotion. This was all too reminiscent of the last time she'd expected Jim home, and she wasn't at all sure if she should be tempting fate again.

‘I really don't think I'll have the face pack this time,' she said once Fran had finished pinning all the curlers in and started painting her nails a soft pink.

‘Stuff and nonsense,' declared Cordelia as she looked up from her ruined knitting. ‘It's time you let Fran spoil you.' She peered at Peggy over her glasses, her blue eyes stern. ‘You do want to look your best for Jim, don't you?'

‘Well, yes,' she admitted, ‘but . . .'

‘But nothing,' said Cordelia airily. ‘You can't possibly welcome him home looking so frazzled. He'll think we aren't taking care of you.'

Peggy rather took objection to being described as frazzled, but let it pass. ‘I felt a right fool sitting here with all that green goo on my face and cucumber stuck over my eyes. So, if you don't mind, Fran, I'd really rather leave it this time.'

‘There's no cucumber today, Auntie Peg, but cotton wool soaked in cold water will do the same trick. Please reconsider,' Fran said softly. ‘You've been running yourself ragged ever since the wedding, and the face pack will help to make your skin look and feel fresher and lighten the dark shadows under your eyes.'

Peggy was a bit miffed at all this criticism, even though it had been meant in the kindest way. Yet, as she hadn't had time to look in a mirror lately, she couldn't really defend herself, and it was easier to give in than to keep resisting. ‘Oh, all right,' she sighed as Fran finished her nails.

She closed her eyes and was actually soothed by the cool paste Fran was slathering over her face. She could feel it begin to harden already, and if it was anything like the last time, it would take ages to wash off.

‘Are you sure this will work, Fran?' she asked, managing not to move her lips too much.

‘Absolutely,' she replied. ‘Just don't talk or move a muscle or you'll spoil the effect. Now, I'm putting these soaked pads of cotton wool over your eyes, so just relax and think sweet thoughts.'

Peggy sat there feeling completely foolish as Fran bustled round her. Taking care not to ruin her nail polish, she lit a cigarette and tried to relax, but she could hear Cordelia tittering and the girls giggling. It was clear that everyone else thought the whole rigmarole was much funnier than she did.

Time dragged and she was getting restless. ‘How long am I expected to sit like this?' she asked as Fran took the cigarette stub away from her.

‘Ach, I'm thinking it won't be long,' giggled Fran.

Peggy was highly suspicious of what they were all up to while she was unable to see them. She could hear rustling and more giggles and the shuffle of footsteps around her. ‘Don't you dare leave me like this,' she hissed through tight lips.

‘Me darlin' girl, as if I would.'

‘Jim!' Peggy was on her feet and across the deserted kitchen into his arms before she could take another breath. She clung to him as she kissed his mouth, his face and his neck. ‘Oh, Jim,' she breathed against his cheek. ‘I can't believe you're really here.'

He kept his arms round her as he leant back and burst out laughing. ‘What the divil have you got on your face, Peggy girl?'

She stiffened with horror as she remembered the face pack, and then tried frantically to smear it away.

Jim was still laughing as he plucked the cotton wool from her cemented cheeks. ‘Is this green stuff edible?' he teased. ‘Am I supposed to kiss you, or eat you?'

Peggy was mortified, but his mirth was catching and she was soon laughing along with him. ‘You weren't supposed to see me like this,' she finally spluttered. ‘What must you think?'

He stilled her hands as she reached to remove the curlers, and pulled her to his heart, devotion in his eyes. ‘I don't care about the curlers and the cement on your face. I'm just glad to be home with my beautiful girl again.'

She melted into his embrace as he kissed her thoroughly. She was in the arms of the man she loved, and at peace. It didn't matter that all her plans for his homecoming were in ruins – or that she looked a fright – for finally, finally, he was here.

GIDEON HAD RETIRED
to his study to prepare his Sunday sermon, but as Mary washed the dishes and put them away after their very late lunch, she was all too aware of Emmaline's continuing presence at the kitchen table. Her mother's very silence spoke of disapproval as she went through the accounts for the numerous charities she supported, but when she occasionally looked up and caught Mary's eye, it was as if she was looking straight through her.

Mary sighed with relief as Emmaline finally left the kitchen and went upstairs to her bedroom. The tension had built during that long silent interlude, and it had made Mary clumsy to the point where she'd almost broken a plate as she'd put it away.

Left alone to get on with things, Mary relaxed, finished the ironing, cleaned the bathroom and swept the hall floor. She would have liked to have gone into the drawing room to practise the Sunday hymns on the piano, but as Emmaline hated to have her afternoon rest disturbed, Mary knew she'd have to wait until morning.

It was late afternoon and quite dark by the time she brought her soaking-wet bicycle into the kitchen so she could mend the puncture. The tyre was old and getting very threadbare, but as it was almost impossible to acquire a new one, she had to hope that this latest repair would hold long enough at least to get her to the station and back tonight.

She was slowly turning the tyre in a bowl of water to find the hole when she heard her father come out of his study and into the hall. The creak of the cupboard door opening beneath the stairs, and the rattle of a padlock being unfastened, told her that he was once again delving into the large trunk that had stood there amidst the cobwebs and dust for as long as she could remember.

What was in the trunk was a complete mystery, for he'd always kept it locked and replied when asked that it was just used as storage for his old parish records. However, Mary had always been intrigued by that trunk, especially when she'd been a small girl, and she'd made up stories of hidden treasures, or secret maps. As she grew she'd begun to wonder romantically if perhaps there were old photographs and letters hidden there. Private letters tied with ribbon that spoke of a lost love he couldn't quite forget.

Now, of course, she knew her father was not that sort of man at all, and that the trunk probably really did only contain fusty old ledgers and ancient correspondence that related to the church. Quite why he was so secretive about it was beyond her, but she supposed he liked to keep something to himself for a change.

She concentrated on mending the puncture as the rain continued to pelt against the window, the wind howled, and the day darkened into premature night. It was a five-mile round trip to the station and back, and in this weather it wouldn't be at all pleasant, even on a bicycle, and yet it would be worth it just to see Jack again before he was snatched away from her.