There'll Be Blue Skies (39 page)

Her prayers had come to nothing, and her hands trembled as she took out three of Mrs Finch’s lace-edged handkerchiefs, and one of Anne’s good blouses. There was a belt of Cissy’s too – the one with the glittering buckle that was her favourite, and an almost unused lipstick she’d bought from Woolworths only the other week.

Sally felt such a rage it was like a huge mass growing inside her as she placed the stolen things on the bed. She used that rage to remain focused as she continued her methodical search through the rest of the drawers and the wardrobe – and when she was certain there was nothing else that shouldn’t be there, she swept the pile of Florrie’s clothes off the bed and sat down to wait.

The town-hall clock had just struck two when she was woken from her doze by the sound of stealthy but unsteady footsteps on the landing. She climbed off the bed and prepared herself for the coming confrontation.

Florrie’s make-up was smudged, and she was drunk. ‘What you doing in ’ere?’ She shut the door none too quietly, kicked off her shoes and slung the handbag onto the bed.

‘Keep your voice down,’ hissed Sally, ‘or you’ll have the whole house awake.’

‘I asked wot you was doin’ in ’ere,’ mumbled Florrie.

‘Looking for the stuff you nicked from other people’s rooms.’

Florrie’s bleary gaze settled unsteadily on the things Sally had placed on the dressing-table stool. ‘I was only gunna borrow them for a bit,’ she muttered. ‘What’s all the bleedin’ fuss about?’ She staggered to the bed and sat down.

‘You didn’t borrow ’em,’ Sally hissed. ‘You bleedin’ well stole ’em, and I won’t ’ave it. These are good people.’

‘Yeah, yeah, yeah. Me ’eart bleeds.’ Florrie took a whisky flask out of her handbag and took a swig. ‘So, whatya gunna do about it, then, Miss Goody Two-shoes? Miss Mealy-mouth-butter-wouldn’t-melt? Call the rozzers?’

‘I’d bloody well like to,’ she growled, ‘but it’s shame enough me mother can’t keep ’er thieving ’ands to ’erself, let alone have the rozzers all over the gaff.’

Florrie snorted and tried to focus on Sally. ‘You ain’t so posh now, are yer?’

Sally was beyond caring what she sounded like. ‘Where you been all day?’

‘None of your bleedin’ business,’ she slurred, taking another drink from the flask.

Sally grabbed it, screwed the lid tight, and tossed it under the bed. ‘It is my flamin’ business when Simmons starts asking me questions about ya – insinuating you and me got something special going on with Solomon and Goldman.’

‘Well, I ’ave, ain’t I? Solly and me, we’re gunna get married.’

‘In yer dreams. Solomon’s married to ’is wife’s money. He ain’t gunna look at you twice once she finds out what he’s been up to.’

‘And who’s gunna tell ’er?’ Florrie’s expression was belligerent as she struggled to get off the bed, found she couldn’t keep her balance and fell back again. ‘If I ’ear you been flapping your gob about me and Solly, it’ll be yer eyes, girl. And that ain’t no threat, it’s a bleedin’ promise.’

Sally regarded her with the coolness of someone who had long since stopped caring. Florrie’s mascara and eye-shadow were streaking down her face to mingle with the smudged lipstick. Her blouse was buttoned up wrongly and the bra it revealed was grey and grubby. Florrie was thirty-five, but she looked a decade older.

‘You disgust me, do you know that?’ she murmured without emotion. ‘Take a long, hard look in that mirror before you pass out, and try for once to see what I see.’

Florrie tried to focus on her reflection in the dressing-table mirror, but soon gave up. ‘You ain’t no bleedin’ oil painting yerself,’ she spat. ‘No wonder you ain’t got no bloke.’

‘I’m not like you,’ Sally whispered furiously. ‘I don’t need some bloke to leech off – some chancer to buy me drinks, and take me to bleedin’ ’otels.’ She jabbed Florrie hard in the shoulder, making her almost topple over. ‘You ’ad a decent man, but you treated ’im like dirt – and now it’s too late. Dad won’t never want you again.’

Florrie’s face crumpled and she began to sob, the large tears making an even worse mess on her face. ‘I only married ’im cos you was on the bleedin’ way. That’s the story of me life,’ she wailed. ‘I never ’ad no chance of nothing.’

‘Shush,’ hissed Sally. ‘Keep it down.’

Florrie eyed her mournfully, but at least she’d stopped wailing. ‘I ain’t ’ad a proper life,’ she sobbed. ‘Bleedin’ tied down with a man I couldn’t bleedin’ stand, and a flaming kid wot never shut up crying.’ She swiped the back of her hand under her nose and sniffed hard. ‘You was a pain in the arse as a kid – and then, just to put the tin lid right on it, I ’ad Ernie.’ She gave a harsh cough of laughter through her tears. ‘What a bleedin’ joke that was.’

‘I didn’t find it funny,’ replied Sally coldly. ‘And neither did Ernie, or Dad.’ Florrie was getting maudlin, as she always did after drinking too much, and Sally was bankrupt of patience. If Florrie thought she could wring one morsel of pity out of her with this act, then she was very much mistaken.

‘But I only wanted a bit of fun, Sal – don’t yer see? Surely there ain’t no ’arm in that?’ She collapsed on to the pillows and howled.

Sally realised she’d have the whole house awake in a minute. Pulling the covers over Florrie, she knew from experience that the only way to shut her up was to treat her like a child. She grimaced as she smoothed the over-bleached hair from her hot forehead and caught the rank odour of her unwashed body. ‘Yeah, all right,’ she said softly. ‘You go to sleep now. Everything’s fine, everything’s lovely. There, there.’

Florrie was asleep within seconds, and Sally turned her on to her side and wedged her there with the spare pillow. She took her cigarettes and matches in case she started a fire by trying to smoke when she woke up, and then collected the hankies, belt, lipstick and blouse.

Creeping out of the room she clicked the door shut and hesitated on the landing. She didn’t want to take these things into her room in case Peggy saw them and thought she was the thief. But what to do?

She stood there for some minutes in the dark, and then crept downstairs to the kitchen. She could hear the snores coming from the basement as she unfolded the handkerchiefs and blouse and mixed them in with the rest of the laundry in the basket. The belt was left hanging over the back of a chair, and the lipstick placed in view on the dresser. It was the best she could do to cover up Florrie’s pilfering, and she just hoped it wouldn’t raise any more questions.

It was almost three in the morning by the time she collapsed into bed. Florrie had to go – and soon. But how on
earth
did she get rid of her?

‘Because of the raid last night, things haven’t been settled,’ said Peggy, as she poured tea and handed round the cups at breakfast. ‘So Jim and I thought it might be best if we do it all together. What shift are you working today, Sally?’

‘I’m not due in until one.’ She was exhausted, both mentally and physically, after the trauma of the previous night, and could barely think straight. ‘I agree with you,’ she said, glancing at Ernie. ‘It’ll be best to get it over with in one go.’

‘What you on about, Sal?’ Ernie eyed her over the teacup.

‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ she said, and ruffled his hair.

‘That’s what grown-ups always say,’ said Charlie, with all the wisdom of an eight year old. ‘They never really tell you anything.’

‘Where’s Mum? I ain’t seen ’er for ages. She ain’t gone, ’as she?’

She noted the bewilderment in his eyes and made an effort to keep her voice low and soothing. ‘She’s asleep upstairs,’ she replied. ‘You’ll probably see her later on.’

‘I wish I could stay and help,’ said Anne, ‘but I have my first full interview with the OC this morning. Once I know when the training course begins, I’ll have a better idea of when I’ll be moving out.’

Sally saw how Peggy’s smile faded and her eyes darkened. She was going to find it very tough once everyone had gone, and she wished with all her heart that it didn’t have to be so.

Ron and Jim weren’t exactly bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, but they nursed their hangovers with cups of tea, and told the boys not to make so much noise as they argued over their plans for the day.

Sally ate the toast and drank the tea, waiting on tenterhooks for someone to mention the mysterious disappearance of their belongings. But as one by one they left the table to prepare for the day without saying anything, Sally felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Once breakfast was over and the kitchen put to rights, Anne and Cissy left to go their separate ways, and Mrs Finch took her library book into the dining room. She liked to sit by the window in the sunshine and watch what was happening in the street.

The three boys were playing a game of snakes and ladders on the kitchen table when Peggy caught Sally’s eye and signalled it was time.

‘Now boys,’ she said brightly. ‘I’ve got a real surprise for you all. You’re going with Sally on a holiday.’

‘Where? Why? For how long?’ The chorus of questions came in a mixture of anxiety and excitement.

‘Well now,’ said Jim. ‘You’ll be going on a train with lots of other boys and girls, and Mam and Sal will make you a picnic to eat on the journey. It’ll be quite a long journey, so we’ll put in some of your favourite comics and toys as well.’

Ernie looked at Sally with accusatory eyes. ‘Are we going away for very long?’

‘I don’t know how long we’ll be away,’ she said truthfully. ‘But Bob and Charlie and me will be going with you, so you don’t have to worry.’

‘Will it be like last time?’ he persisted. ‘With them fat women bossing us about?’

Sally tried to make light of it. ‘There’re always fat women telling us what to do, Ernie. It’s their job. But that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy yourself.’

‘What about Mum? Is she coming too?’

‘No, love. She’s got to go to work.’

‘That’s what you said last time, and she didn’t come for ages and ages – and when she did – she … she …’ He burst into tears.

Sally gathered him up, noting that Charlie was about to cry too. ‘Listen, Ernie, it’s not like before. This is a holiday with Bob and Charlie and me, and we’re going to have lots of fun.’

‘Yes,’ said Peggy, putting her arm round her two boys. ‘You’ll be going to Wales where there’s mountains and rivers and lots of farms to explore. You’ll see forests and cows and sheep, and might even be allowed to help the farmer with his chickens. How about that?’

‘Why aren’t you coming, Mum?’ Charlie’s voice was still quavering with doubt, even though his eyes had lit up at the thought of being on a farm.

‘Because, my darling, I’ve got this place to look after. And then there’s Cissy, and Anne, and Mrs Finch to take care of.’

Ernie sniffled. ‘Will I be allowed to take me wheelchair – and what about Bob’s train set – can we take that too?’

‘Well, now,’ said Jim, ‘I reckon that chair of yours will fit nicely in the guard’s van, but your granddad and me will be looking after that wee train set till you come back. It might be too big to put in a case, and could get broken – and that wouldn’t be good, would it?’

All three boys eyed him solemnly, but it was Bob who spoke. ‘We’re being evacuated, aren’t we?’

‘Yes, son,’ said Jim. ‘Most of the other children have already left, and your mam and me decided it was too dangerous for you to stay any longer.’ He drew both his sons into his embrace. ‘We love you and don’t like sending you away,’ he said softly. ‘But we have to keep you safe.’

‘When will we be going?’ Bob’s voice was steady, his expression calm and accepting as he held Charlie’s hand.

‘Quite soon,’ said Peggy. ‘We don’t know exactly because the train lines are up, but we’ll have to start packing this morning so we’ll be ready when it’s time.’

‘What about Daddy?’ said Ernie, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

Sally winced and gave him a handkerchief. ‘I told you before, Ernie. Don’t do that.’ She took a breath. ‘I’ll write to Daddy and tell him what’s happening once we know where we’re staying.’

Peggy became businesslike. ‘Right, let’s find those lists and see what we’re going to pack. Jim, get up in the loft and find some suitcases. Ron, take Harvey outside, he’s blowing off and it stinks.’

The three boys collapsed into giggles as a shamefaced Harvey was dragged out of the kitchen, his tail between his legs.

Sally eyed Peggy thankfully as the atmosphere lightened and they began to discuss the list, and what could be added to make the boys’ time away less harrowing.

The morning passed quickly as clothing was brought downstairs to be washed, mended or ironed. A list was made of things which would have to be bought, and Peggy dug out some of Charlie’s old shoes and pyjamas for Ernie. The heat of summer meant travelling in shirts, shorts, socks and sandals, but they also had to think about the coming autumn and winter. A pile of sweaters, blazers, wellingtons and mackintoshes were added to the growing mound of clothing on the table.

Sally helped with the washing, before setting to with a needle and thread to sew on buttons, turn collars and darn socks. Jim polished shoes as the boys argued over which books and games to pack.

It was a hectic morning, and Sally was up and down the stairs a dozen times before it was time to leave for work. She hesitated outside Florrie’s bedroom door and decided to leave her to sleep it off. She was in no mood for any more confrontations. Grabbing her jacket and gas-mask box, she picked up the string bag holding a flask and sandwiches, hurriedly kissed a cheerful Ernie goodbye and was running down the street.