Far From Home (38 page)

‘Strikes me he’s got something to be grumpy about,’ laughed Polly.

Danuta shrugged. ‘He like to have things to complain about. It makes him happy, I think.’ She grinned again. ‘I finish work now. We walk home together, yes?’

Polly nodded and looked up at the sky. The rain was coming down even harder now, and the wind was picking up – but still squadron after squadron of British planes headed south. Perhaps, with so many of their pilots in the air, the enemy wouldn’t risk a raid tonight? ‘Get your things, and I’ll wait for you indoors.’

Danuta dashed off, the tails of her long, heavy coat flapping in the rising wind as she splashed through puddles and headed for the ambulance station at the far end of the hospital building.

Polly was grinning as she returned to the relative warmth of the hospital reception area. Danuta had
changed
so much since she’d left the hospital laundry. She had put on some weight, looked years younger, and seemed to have come alive now that she was doing something she regarded as more useful. Her cheerful chatter and endless enthusiasm for her work had helped lighten Polly’s mood, and her warmth and understanding had certainly endeared her to Polly.

‘It’s good to see you smiling again, Staff Nurse,’ said Matron, appearing from around a corner. ‘Your first week back has not been too difficult, I hope?’

Polly nodded. ‘I’ve managed,’ she said simply.

Matron’s steely gaze held her for a heartbeat. ‘Good. Then long may it continue,’ she replied before bustling away.

June, Suzy and Fran came in out of the rain and, after a brief greeting, hurried off to begin their night shifts.

Danuta came rushing into the reception area moments later. ‘I am ready,’ she panted. ‘Come on, Polly. Peggy will have tea on the table soon, and I am starving.’

‘So am I, but I do hope it isn’t rabbit stew again,’ said Polly, unfurling her umbrella before they ran down the steps and into the rain. ‘If I eat another bunny, I swear I’ll grow long ears and whiskers.’

Danuta laughed as they hurried down Camden Road. ‘I think
Babunia
has made her famous fish pie today,’ she replied. ‘Ron was going to see his son Frank at the fishing station this morning.’

The thought of Mrs Finch’s fish pie made Polly’s mouth water. Because of the ever tightening restrictions, food had become rather bland, so it was a real treat to have something more exciting than corned beef hash, scrag end of something unidentifiable, or one of the awful concoctions dreamt up by the Ministry of Food.

‘Are you planning anything for this evening?’ Polly asked, as they reached the end of Camden Road and waited for an army lorry to trundle past before crossing into Beach View Terrace. ‘Mary and I have tickets for
Rebecca
, and I’m sure we could get you one as well if you’d like to come with us.’

‘I am sorry,’ Danuta replied. ‘But I have already made other arrangements.’

Polly glanced at her and grinned. ‘That’s twice this week,’ she teased. ‘Have you got a chap hidden away, Danuta?’

She slotted her key in the door and shook her head. ‘I go to meet friend, that is all.’

Polly realised she would get no further into the mystery of where Danuta disappeared to on such a regular basis, and left it at that. It was actually none of her business, and it was lovely to see her so cheerful. Whatever – or whoever – it was, was doing her a lot of good, and she hoped it would continue.

The turn in the weather had made little difference to the activity overhead, and the constant drone of aircraft heading for Europe had become a part of everyday life. With the sirens going off day and night, and enemy raids becoming ever more frequent, this everyday life was beginning to pall. Landmines exploded under the onslaught of the heavy rains, shattering windows and rattling the very foundations of the house, and the crump of distant bombs was a reminder that they were all living on a knife-edge.

It was almost five o’clock when Peggy closed the blackout curtains on the weather and turned on the light. Polly and Cissy had just come in and were upstairs getting changed, and another wave of Spitfires and bombers was heading for the enemy ports and shipyards across the Channel. She wondered fleetingly if Martin was up there with them, and had to accept that he probably was. Poor Anne, no wonder she’d had to go for a sleep this afternoon. She must be exhausted with worry.

‘I’ll be off to get the evening paper,’ said Jim, ‘and maybe snatch a pint on the way back. Paddy at the Sailor’s Rest usually has his back door open for the regulars out of hours.’ He dragged on his heavy waterproof coat and wrapped a scarf about his neck before putting on his hat.

‘Don’t you dare be late for tea,’ Peggy warned. ‘We have so few nights together, and it’s not often we have Anne and Cissy at home at the same time.’

‘To be sure, I’ll not be late for me tea,’ he replied with a grin. He winked. ‘I have an appetite, so I have, and as I’m home all night, perhaps we could find time for a bit of a cuddle as well?’

Peggy blushed and shooed him out of her kitchen before turning on the wireless. Jim was incorrigible – but the thought of a cuddle in the comfort of their lovely bed was something to look forward to, and she settled down to listen to ‘Children’s Hour’, the blush still warming her face.

‘Aren’t you a bit old to be listening to that, Mum?’ Cissy wandered into the kitchen some time later and checked on the progress of the fish pie.

‘Of course I am,’ she replied comfortably, ‘but the boys will be listening down in Somerset, and it makes me feel a little closer to them.’

‘You are an old softie,’ Cissy murmured, giving her a hug and a kiss before wandering out again to see if her sister had woken up yet.

Peggy smiled. Cissy seemed to have got over whatever it was that had been worrying her. She seemed much more herself, and definitely more cheerful since she’d come home last weekend. No doubt the week off Witherspoon had given them all had restored her good nature, and she thought again how considerate he was, for the tour sounded as if it had been a complete shambles. But Cissy’s spirits had been high as she’d related some of the funnier incidents, and it was good she could laugh about it – and even better that she seemed so happy to be home again.

As she listened to the story on the wireless and thought about her boys, she became tearful as she always did, and wondered when she could see them again. Sally and John were planning to honeymoon in Somerset so they could be with Sally’s little brother Ernie for a while, and Peggy had knitted scarves, sweaters, gloves and socks for them to take for Charlie and Bob.

Christmas would be hard this year, for it would be the first they would spend apart, and she wondered how she would cope without seeing their bright, expectant faces on Christmas morning, and the chaos of wrapping paper and excited, piping voices urging her and Jim to get up so they could look at what Father Christmas had brought them.

Determined not to let these thoughts spoil the evening, she switched off the wireless at the end of the programme and got the fish pie out of the oven. It smelled delicious, and her stomach gurgled in anticipation. Meals had become a bit of a labour of late, and she’d known all too well that they were often bland and unimaginative – but there was little she could do about it now rationing had been tightened yet again.

On the dot of six they began to come into the kitchen, where most meals were served these days. The dining room chimney was still blocked off to prevent another soot fall, and the windows were still covered in plywood. It didn’t seem practical to go to all the expense of new glass when it would more than likely be broken again, and they certainly couldn’t get enough coal for two fires.

Cissy, Polly and Danuta came in with Mrs Finch. Anne followed shortly after, looking much refreshed after her long sleep. She was staying overnight for Sally’s wedding the next day, and Peggy was hoping she might linger for the rest of the weekend, which would be lovely.

Peggy eyed the kitchen clock. Jim was in danger of being late, despite his promise, and she’d give him a piece of her mind if he was, and that was a fact.

Ron appeared moments later from the cellar with Harvey, who took more than a passing interest in the heaped plates.

‘Get him out of here, Ron,’ Peggy muttered. ‘Fish makes him …’

Harvey farted and tucked his tail between his legs, a look of shame crossing his bowed head as the dreadful smell drifted into the kitchen and everyone gasped in disgust.

‘Sorry about that,’ said Ron, shooing him downstairs. ‘I gave him the heads and guts when I was cleaning the fish earlier. I forgot what it does to him.’

Peggy wrinkled her nose as the girls giggled. ‘It’s not funny,’ she said, trying not to laugh as she sat down.

‘To be sure ’tis only nature’s way of dealing with his wind.’

‘There’s enough wind outside, without it in here,’ said Peggy, still trying to keep a straight face.

They had almost finished tea when the front door slammed shut and Jim strode into the kitchen bringing the scent of fresh air and rain with him.

‘You’re late,’ said Peggy, not really bothering to give him more than a glance. ‘Tea’s on the hob.’

‘I don’t want bloody tea,’ he roared, making everyone jump. ‘I want an explanation.’ He slammed the newspaper down on the table between Peggy and Cissy. ‘Read that,’ he shouted. Dragging off his hat, coat and scarf, he threw them in the vague direction of a nearby chair and stood over his wife and younger daughter, his heavy breathing filling the shocked silence.

Disconcerted and not a little frightened by his language and his clear rage, Peggy’s gaze flew across the lurid headline and then slowed as the full import of the shocking article began to sink in. When she’d come to the end, she looked at Cissy and realised the girl had gone deathly pale. ‘Did you know about this?’ she managed through a tight throat.

‘Of course she bloody knew,’ roared Jim. ‘And if that bastard laid one finger on her I’ll have his …’ He seemed to realise the kitchen was full of startled and rather frightened women and fell silent. ‘Did he touch you, Cissy?’ he said gruffly. ‘Did he make you do anything you didn’t like?’

Cissy lifted her gaze from the newspaper article and discovered Danuta was watching her with a strange intensity. It was almost as if she was trying to tell her something. ‘N-n-no,’ she stuttered. ‘But I knew he’d been arrested.’

‘When was this? How long have you been keeping this from me?’ shouted Jim.

‘Last Saturday,’ admitted Cissy, on the brink of tears. ‘They arrested him when we got back from the tour.’

‘And you came home and told us all a pack of lies,’ shouted Jim. ‘You sat there and said he’d given you all a week off, when all the time that ba—’ He caught himself again and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. ‘You do know what he was up to, don’t you?’ he rasped.

Cissy nodded, unable to meet her father’s fury or her mother’s shocked expression. ‘The policeman said he’d been taking pictures of minors and selling them,’ she muttered.

‘That’s only half the story according to this. The man’s a pervert of the worst kind – and when I think I actually let you anywhere near him – or that creep of a choreographer, I want to … to …’ He curled his fists, his face going puce.

Peggy reached for Cissy’s hand, her dread clear in her expression and in her cold fingers. ‘Cissy,’ she said hoarsely, ‘is he the reason why you’ve been so quiet lately? He didn’t make you do anything, did he? He didn’t take nasty pictures or touch you or …’ Her words faded as she clearly found it impossible to voice her worst fears.

Cissy blinked away her tears and was on the point of telling her mother just how stupid she’d been to fall for his charms when she caught Danuta’s eye. The Polish girl still had that tense, warning look and Cissy had a startling moment of awareness. Danuta had sent those damning photographs and negatives. How or why, didn’t matter, but she knew now how to answer her parents’ questions.

She squeezed her mother’s cold fingers. ‘He didn’t touch me,’ she said softly. ‘From what the policeman said, he liked much younger girls than me, so I was quite safe.’

‘And Amy, and the others?’ breathed Peggy. ‘Judy’s only sixteen.’

‘None of us knew what he was up to,’ Cissy lied smoothly. ‘We were as shocked as you when we got back and found the police waiting.’

‘Then why didn’t you tell us straight away?’ shouted Jim, who was clearly itching to murder Witherspoon if only he could get his hands on him.

‘Because I knew how angry you would be,’ she said honestly. ‘Once we found out what he’d been up to, we all decided to wait a bit and see what happened to him. But we’ve realised we don’t ever want to go back to the troupe.’

‘I should bloody well think not,’ roared Jim. ‘You step one
foot
in that place again and I’ll lock you in your room until your twenty-fifth birthday.’

‘Language, Jim,’ snapped Peggy. ‘It isn’t helping.’

‘I’ll speak as I bloody find,’ he yelled back. ‘To think I actually signed that damned contract because I thought he was a proper gentleman.’

‘He had us all fooled,’ muttered Peggy.

‘It strikes me no harm’s been done to our girl,’ said Ron, breaking into the ensuing silence. ‘And for that we must thank the Lord. Perhaps this will be a lesson to you, Cissy, and you’ll be thinking more sensibly from now on.’