There'll Be Blue Skies (22 page)

The telephone was ringing as she reached the hall and she picked it up. ‘Cliffehaven 329.’

‘Mrs Reilly, this is Martin Black. Could I please speak to Anne?’

‘Hello, Martin.’ This was the fourth time he’d called and, so far, Anne had refused to speak to him. ‘Anne’s out,’ she said truthfully.

‘Mrs Reilly, I know what you must think of me, but I love Anne, and if she’d only let me talk to her, I’m sure we can find some way out of this ghastly mess.’

‘I’ll tell her you called,’ she said. ‘But Martin,’ she warned, ‘don’t be surprised if she doesn’t ring back. She was very hurt.’

‘I know. That’s why it’s so important I speak to her.’ He was interrupted by the pips going. ‘Damn, I’m out of coins, and I’ll be cut off in a minute. Tell her I’m on duty all over Christmas so I won’t be able to see her until the New Year. Please tell her I love her with all my heart, and that I still want to marry …’ The pips drowned him out and the line went dead.

Peggy put down the receiver and sighed. Love was complicated enough without having to deal with toffee-nosed parents as well as the war. It just wasn’t fair.

Sally held her head high as she marched past Simmons and took her place behind the sewing machine. She just wanted to get this shift over and go home to Ernie.

Brenda plumped down next to her. ‘Cheer up, ducks,’ she said, wrapping the scarf over her rollers. ‘I’m calling a meeting with the girls over the tea break. We’ll sort something out.’

‘I don’t want no more trouble,’ muttered Sally.

‘And there ain’t gunna be any,’ said Pearl, sitting on the other side of her.

‘What you doing here? I thought you was on the lates this week?’

‘I was. Then I ’eard about yer trouble and changed shifts.’ She grinned. ‘We’re mates, ain’t we? And mates stick together.’

Sally grinned back. It was good to know so many people believed in her and that, regardless of what happened next, she could always count on her friends.

She returned to Beach View feeling much more positive about things. The shift had gone quickly, Simmons had stayed away from her, and the cheerful, warm support of the other women had bolstered her spirits.

The kitchen still held the reminder of the evening meal and the warmth of the fire in the range. ‘Hello, Peggy,’ she said, taking off her coat. ‘How’s Ernie been?’

Peggy put down her knitting, poured her a cup of tea, and got the plate of supper she’d been keeping warm off the hob. ‘He’s been quite chirpy,’ she said. ‘He had a good long sleep after lunch, then I wrapped him up warm, and Ron and I took him for a ride in his wheelchair along the front.’

Sally held the teacup in her cold hands, relishing the warmth. ‘He didn’t make a fuss?’

Peggy shook her head. ‘Ron warned him that, if he did, he wouldn’t take him out with the dog and the ferrets again for at least a month. He was a bit put out about that,’ she admitted with a soft smile, ‘but his little face lit up when he saw what Ron and the boys had done to make his wheelchair more interesting.’

Sally grinned as she tucked into the stew Peggy had made from the pig’s head. ‘What did they do to it?’

‘The boys had gone down to the gift shop and persuaded Mr Peters to dig out his summer stock of coloured windmills and those little Union Jacks that kiddies stick in their sandcastles. When they got back, they tied them on to the wheelchair and added some stickers they got with their comics.’ She shook her head and smiled. ‘Charlie even let him borrow his precious Cliffehaven Wanderers scarf as a special treat.’

‘Blimey. That’s a turn-up. Charlie don’t let no-one near that usually.’

Peggy was still smiling as she picked up her knitting. ‘He’s had a good day,’ she said comfortably, ‘and is fast asleep now, so you can put your feet up and relax. It’s nice to have a bit of company in the evenings.’

Sally sipped her tea, and finished the stew, slowly thawing out from the cold walk home. ‘Where are the others?’

‘Anne’s gone to the pictures with Dorothy. Cissy’s in her room sulking. She and Jim had a bit of a set-to over her wanting to join ENSA. He flatly refused to give his permission – and I agree with him wholeheartedly. She’s only seventeen.’

‘Poor Cissy,’ murmured Sally. ‘She were that excited. But I’m sure that once she calms down, she’ll see you were right.’

Peggy eyed her over the knitting. ‘So, she talked to you about it, did she?’

Sally nodded. ‘She swore me to secrecy, so I couldn’t say nothing –
anything
before.’

‘Well, she’s had her temper tantrum, slamming doors and stamping her feet like a five year old. If she’s meant to be a star on the stage then it will happen – but not until she’s twenty-one,’ she said evenly.

Sally thought it wise to change the subject. ‘I suppose Ron’s at the pub?’

‘Either that or playing soldiers again.’ She put down her knitting and stared thoughtfully into the fire. ‘He’s been acting a bit mysteriously just lately, and I suspect he’s up to something he shouldn’t be …’ She grinned and continued knitting. ‘I don’t know why that should bother me – Ron’s always up to something, and I don’t expect him to change the habits of a lifetime just because there’s a war on.’

‘He’s been ever so good with Ernie. Like a real granddad. We never knew ours; he died before we was born, and with Dad away most of the time, it’s been ’ard for Ernie not ’aving a man about the place.’

Peggy concentrated on turning the heel of the sock she was knitting. ‘Talking of having a man about the place, I’m looking forward to seeing Alex again on Christmas Day,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s hope there aren’t any raids and he can get away.’

Sally finished her tea, washed up and stifled a vast yawn. ‘I’m for me bed, Peg. Goodnight.’ She kissed the other woman’s cheek and hurried upstairs.

Ernie was asleep, the wheelchair parked beside his bed. It was festooned in flags, and windmills, and someone had pegged playing cards to the spokes of the wheels so that when it moved, it would make as much noise as a Spitfire.

Sally washed and climbed into bed, snuggling beneath the blankets, her thoughts for once not occupied by Ernie, or the trouble at work, but focused on Christmas Eve. John Hicks would be arriving at about six, and she hadn’t decided what she would wear. She still hadn’t by the time she fell asleep.

It was raining hard the next morning, and Sally had left Ernie playing cards with the others at the kitchen table while Peggy baked a cake with the last of the eggs and butter, and Mrs Finch knitted something unrecognisable in the chair by the rather dismal fire. The coal was running out and Jim had warned there would be no more until fresh supplies were delivered to the merchant on the other side of town. Ron had immediately set off with a big sack and his axe, promising to bring home some wood.

Work had proceeded smoothly, with no sign of Simmons, which was a relief. When the whistle went for the break, Sally and Pearl were heading for the canteen when Simmons appeared at the door and called Sally back.

‘The boss wants to see you,’ he said, his gaze not quite meeting hers.

Sally glanced at Pearl and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. Was this the dreaded moment when she’d be given the sack? ‘Mr Goldman wants to see me?’

‘That’s what I said,’ he replied impatiently. ‘What’s the matter with your hearing, girl?’

She shot another glance at Pearl, who gave her a sympathetic smile, and followed Simmons in silence as they headed for the main office.

Marjorie was sitting behind the desk, thumping the typewriter keys as if she needed to vent her fury on something and they were the nearest object. She looked up, glanced at Sally and pushed back her chair. ‘I’ll let Mr Goldman know you’re here,’ she said stiffly.

Sally waited nervously, and found she was trembling as she was shown into the boss’s office alongside Simmons.

‘Sit down Sally,’ he said without preamble. ‘Mr Simmons has something to say to you.’ He glared at Simmons, who cleared his throat before speaking.

‘It seems I’ve made a mistake,’ he said, gaze firmly fixed to a point beyond her shoulder.

Sally said nothing. It was obvious he was terrified of Goldman and hated having to admit he’d been in the wrong, but she wasn’t about to help him out of this.

‘Another woman was responsible for the theft,’ he said, ‘and she has been dismissed.’

‘That isn’t an apology, Simmons,’ snarled Goldman. ‘This girl’s character has been put into question, and she has no doubt suffered some distress over your false accusations. You will say you’re sorry and damned well mean it.’

‘I’m sorry, Miss Turner. Truly.’ He looked flustered and Sally actually felt a dart of sympathy for him. ‘Please accept that I was merely acting on the evidence I had before me. I shouldn’t have believed the worst of you.’

‘Thank you,’ she said quietly, swallowing the desire to tell him to get his facts right before he started throwing around accusations about innocent people.

‘You can go now, Simmons,’ rasped Goldman. ‘I wish to have a private word with Miss Turner.’ Sally remained poker-stiff in the chair. She didn’t like the sound of this at all. What was Goldman up to?

He waited until the door had closed behind the other man and then sat down in his enormous leather chair. ‘I’ve been keeping a close eye on you, Miss Turner – and I must say I was shocked when Simmons told me what you’d been accused of.’

Sally stared at him, unable to think of anything to say.

‘You can thank the other women you work with that your name has been cleared. They suspected who the culprit was and made sure she owned up.’

‘It was Iris, weren’t it?’

‘I’m not at liberty to say,’ he replied gruffly. ‘It appears the culprit stole quite a bit of material over the past weeks, and has been making these questionable garments and selling them on some market stall. The police are investigating the matter as we speak.’

Sally should have felt more relaxed now her name had been cleared and the culprit brought to book, but she was still wary of Goldman’s motives. Bosses had the reputation for taking liberties – and if he expected her to show him more gratitude than she was willing to give, then he’d got the wrong girl.

He lit a fat cigar and puffed on it for a moment before eyeing her through the smoke. ‘Your work is exemplary, Miss Turner – as my brother-in-law, Mr Solomon, told me it would be in his letter. Therefore I would like to offer you the position of line-manager. It will, of course, mean a pay rise, but I’m sure you won’t object to that.’ He gave her a ghost of a smile.

She stared at him, unable to believe she was hearing right. Swiftly pulling her scrambled thoughts together, she smiled back. ‘Thanks ever so,’ she said breathlessly, ‘but will it mean working longer hours? Only I’ve got me brother to look after and …’

‘I know all about your circumstances, Miss Turner, and am quite prepared to let you work the same hours as now. But it will mean more responsibility,’ he added, his gaze piercing the cigar smoke. ‘Are you sure you’re not too young to handle it?’

Sally at last relaxed. ‘Old head on young shoulders, that’s me, Mr Goldman,’ she said brightly. ‘I won’t let you down.’

‘I don’t doubt it for a minute,’ he murmured, the smile lurking again. ‘And to make up for the distress you’ve been caused, you can take tomorrow off with pay, and enjoy your Christmas. Marjorie has your pay packet ready. I’ll see you bright and early on the twenty-seventh.’

Sally left the office in a daze, the pay packet snug in her apron pocket. She couldn’t wait to tell Pearl and Brenda.

But it seemed her good news had travelled fast, for as she walked into the canteen she was greeted with a round of applause and shouts of, ‘Well done, Sal.’ Red-faced and laughing, she joined in the celebrations with a cup of tea before they all had to get back to their machines.

Life was full of promise for Sally that evening and, as she walked home three hours later along the slick, wet pavements of a silent, rainy Cliffehaven, she finally felt she belonged.

Chapter Nine

It was at last Christmas Eve and the whole house was scented with festive cooking. Sally had finally managed to have a quiet word with Anne over the bullying at school, and felt some relief that, once school began again, Ernie would be guarded more closely in the playground.

Pearl arrived mid-morning and Anne kept Ernie amused and out of the way while the two girls shut themselves in Sally’s bedroom, discussing what she should wear for the tea party. She didn’t really have much to choose from, as she’d had little time to make clothes for herself over the past weeks, but by the time Pearl had to leave for work, they’d decided on the lace blouse and fitted navy skirt.

After helping Peggy with the lunch, and making sure Ernie was fully occupied, Sally had returned upstairs late that afternoon to have a bath and wash her hair in the lovely shampoo Peggy had loaned her. Rubbing it dry with a towel, she attempted to bring order to the dark-blonde curls, but, as usual, they seemed to have a mind of their own, and she’d had to resort to the combs again.

Carefully stepping into the freshly ironed skirt, she smoothed it over her hips and pulled on the blouse which she tucked into the waistband. A navy belt she’d salvaged from a dress went perfectly, the pretty buckle gleaming in the sunlight coming through the window.