While We're Apart (28 page)

The Anchor was already bustling, so Peggy left the others to go in through the front and wheeled the pram down the alley to the side door where she didn't have to push it through the crowd. She took off the blankets and started divesting Daisy of her hat, mittens and top cardigan. The combined heat from the fire and the press of humanity was quite overpowering after the cold outside.

Rosie came hurrying into the hall, swiftly followed by Ron. ‘I can't stop and chat,' she said. ‘It's madness in there tonight. But Ron will help you up with the pram, and there will be a gin and tonic waiting for you when you come back down.' She gave Peggy a swift hug, kissed Daisy's cheek and hurried off.

Ron carried the pram up the narrow stairs, which was no mean feat, for it was large and unwieldy, and must have weighed quite a lot with plump little Daisy sitting in it.

‘Thanks, Ron. I'll just get her settled and then I'll be down. Are the others here yet?'

‘They got here early enough to grab the big table by the back window. I'd better get back down and help behind the bar. Poor Rosie and the girls are rushed off their feet.'

Peggy smiled at this, for the ‘girls' were well past middle-age – as was Rosie. She heated up a few ounces of milk in Daisy's bottle and sat on the couch to feed her.

It was a lovely room, she thought, as she looked round at the chintz upholstery and curtains, and the rose-pink rug by the gas fire. Rosie certainly knew how to make a place homely, and it was a terrible shame that Tommy was about to spoil it all by moving in again. She'd been shocked when Ron had told her of his imminent arrival, and fervently hoped he wouldn't cause any further trouble. Poor Rosie had enough on her plate at the moment without him stirring things up.

Daisy's eyelids drooped and she didn't stir even when a great shout of laughter came from the bar downstairs. Peggy carefully settled her back into the pram and pulled the sheet over her to keep her snug. After watching her for a moment, still rather reluctant to leave her, she went downstairs and having nodded to Ron and Rosie who were busy at the bar, pushed her way through the crowd to the table by the back window.

‘Ruby, how lovely, and you've brought Mike as well.' She smiled at them both.

The young Canadian stood and shook her hand. ‘I hope you don't mind, Ma'am, but the hospital discharged me today, and I've got a twenty-four-hour pass.'

Peggy carefully avoided looking at the patch which covered his blind eye, for she knew how sensitive he was about the injury he'd sustained in the Dieppe raid. ‘It's lovely to see you out and about again,' she said truthfully. ‘And I take it you're staying on in the army over here?'

‘Yes, Ma'am. They agreed I could work in administration.' He reached for Ruby's hand. ‘So Ruby will have to put up with me for the duration.'

Peggy laughed as she sat down and glanced at a radiant Ruby. ‘I don't hear our Ruby complaining about that.' She picked up her glass. ‘Cheers.'

‘Happy days,' said Ethel, who was squashed up next to Stan on the settle.

They all drank and then started talking, their voices rising to match the surrounding laughter and chatter. Peggy was delighted that Mike had been given permission to stay in England until this blasted war was over. It was clear that he and Ruby were in love and the poor girl had been fretting that he'd be discharged and sent home to Canada, which would have been the end of things really, for Ruby would not have been able to go with him – and who could tell how long this war would last?

Fran, Jane and Sarah had gone to chat with a group of Americans who were standing by the piano, and Peggy sharply regarded each of them, wondering if Captain Hammond was amongst them. He'd taken to giving Sarah rather a lot of lifts home just lately, and Peggy was deeply suspicious of his motives – and of the fact that Sarah had yet to invite him in to meet her. Quite what Sarah thought she was up to, Peggy didn't know. It was less than a year since the girl had left her fiancé Philip in Singapore to face the horror of the Japanese invasion. Surely she wasn't so fickle to have set her cap at someone else already?

Making a mental note to have a quiet word with Sarah, she made sure Cordelia was happily sipping her sherry and enjoying a chat with Stan before she turned to Ethel, who was eager to tell her the latest gossip.

Ethel related several stories about the goings-on at the tool factory, and how she'd kneed the overseer in his privates when he'd tried to get fresh. Then she went on to talk about Stan's allotment, and the vegetable garden she and Ruby had at the back of the bungalow they rented from Cordelia.

‘I swear to God the old bugger next door keeps nicking stuff when Rubes and I are at work,' she confided. ‘I counted them carrots yesterday, and this morning there was two missing. I wouldn't mind if he'd only ask – but 'e's taking bleedin' liberties, that's what.'

Peggy nodded and smiled, but her thoughts were on Daisy, and she wondered if she ought to go up and check on her now the noise was louder than ever.

‘Your sister's got a new lodger,' Ethel said as she drained her glass of beer and sent Stan off to get another round of drinks.

Peggy just nodded, for having seen Doris this morning it was old news.

‘She arrived this afternoon and seems ever so nice. I warned her that Doris could be a bit on the tricky side, but I don't reckon she'll have much trouble. She's the sort Doris would approve of.'

‘Why? Is she a bit stuck-up then?'

Ethel lit a fag, had a couple of puffs then stuck it in the corner of her mouth. ‘Nah, she's just a nice young girl wot speaks a bit posh and 'as lovely manners. She's not the usual type to work in a factory, but these are strange times, and girls from all walks of life are taking on all sorts now.' She grinned. ‘But as she's sharing the billet with Ivy Perkins, she'll soon get to know the ropes.'

Peggy had met Ivy on several occasions and rather liked her, but she did wish the girl would stand up for herself and refuse to act as Doris's unpaid cleaner and cook. ‘Let's hope she and Ivy get on then,' she said, still distracted by thoughts of Daisy. ‘Perhaps this new girl will give Ivy the courage to say no when Doris demands things of her.'

Ethel shrugged. ‘Who knows.'

Stan returned with a laden tray of drinks and handed them out. He sat down, took an appreciative sip of his beer and gave a sigh of satisfaction. ‘So, what are you girls nattering about?' he asked cheerfully.

‘That new girl Mary, wot's going to live with Doris,' replied Ethel. She took the fag out of her mouth, drank some beer and put it back again without spilling ash.

‘Ah, yes, that reminds me,' said Stan. ‘I've been meaning to ask you, Peggy. Have you ever heard of a Cyril Fielding?'

Peggy gave it some thought and then shook her head. ‘Can't say I have, Stan. Who is he?'

‘I've no idea. It's just that Doris's new girl, Mary, was asking about him, and I've been racking me brains ever since. The name sounds vaguely familiar, but I just can't place it, and it's driving me mad.'

‘Did the girl say why she was looking for him?'

Stan shook his head.

Peggy drank her gin. ‘Well, I wouldn't worry about it, Stan. I expect it was just someone her family knew, and she was hoping to find a familiar face in a new town.'

‘I don't like mysteries, Peg,' Stan said after taking a long drink of his beer. ‘And it's annoying not to be able to put a face to a name. I'll think on it for a while more and ask round.'

‘Best of luck with that,' she said lightly. ‘You and I have lived in this town all our lives, and if we don't recognise the name, then no one will.' She glanced up at the large clock on the wall above the inglenook fireplace, and stood up. ‘I really must go and check on Daisy.'

She hurried away from the table and tiptoed up the stairs to the relative quiet of Rosie's sitting room. She needn't have worried, for Daisy was fast asleep, her thumb plugged into her mouth.

With a sigh of relief, Peggy sank on to the couch, reluctant to return to the noisy crowd downstairs just yet. Lighting a cigarette, she remembered the times when she and Jim had spent long evenings in the pub, or out dancing, and she missed him so much that it was a physical ache round her heart.

She closed her eyes and leant back into the soft cushions, her thoughts drifting back to when they'd all thought there could never be another war, and life had been comparatively easy, the future less uncertain.

Rosie had made her home here in the Anchor for two years when the trouble had flared up, and during the following months she and Peggy had forged a deep and unwavering friendship. Only Peggy knew the lasting damage that had been inflicted on her friend during that awful period, and she was glad that Rosie now had Ron at her side. She would need him too, with that brother of hers turning up again like a bad penny.

Mary had helped Ivy prepare the supper of shepherd's pie, which had only a small amount of minced meat in it, but was hot and filling. The meal had been awkward as they'd sat in the formal dining room, for Mrs Williams had blatantly ignored Ivy while she bombarded Mary with questions.

‘I'll take coffee in the drawing room,' Doris told Ivy once the meal was over. ‘There's a recital on the wireless that I would like Mary to hear.'

Mary glanced at Ivy in panic and horror. ‘It's been a long day, Mrs Williams,' she said hurriedly. ‘If you don't mind, I'd rather go to my room and unpack.'

‘Are you sure you don't want to have the comfort and privacy of your own room, Mary?'

‘Quite sure,' she replied firmly. ‘But thank you for the offer.' Mary edged out of the dining room and went to fetch her things which were still languishing at the bottom of the stairs. She hadn't been given time to see her room, let alone unpack and settle in.

‘I'll show her up,' said Ivy.

‘Don't forget my coffee,' Doris instructed as she went into the drawing room.

Ivy stuck out her tongue at Doris's back, grabbed Mary's bag and gas-mask box and took the carpeted stairs two at a time. ‘We're in 'ere,' she said, pushing open the door at the end of the square landing. She dumped the things on the second bed and hurried to pull the blackout curtains before switching on the very dim central light.

Mary saw a comfortable room with twin beds, a large wardrobe, chest of drawers and dressing table. The beds were covered with chintz spreads that matched the curtains hanging over the blackouts, and the bedside lampshade was of pink pleated silk. There was a seascape on one wall, and a small collection of framed sepia photographs on another. ‘It's very nice,' she murmured.

‘I'll say,' Ivy agreed as she flopped on to her bed. ‘I ain't never 'ad a place like this before, cos we lived in two rooms in Hackney, and I 'ad to share with me brothers and me sister.' She giggled. ‘It were quite a laugh most of the time, but me brothers used to snore and fart all night, which weren't too nice.'

‘I envy you having a large family,' said Mary as she hung her overcoat in the wardrobe and opened her case. ‘I was an only child.'

Ivy sat up abruptly and began to strip off her dungarees and shirt to reveal rather tatty underwear. ‘There ain't much to envy when yer living on top of one another in a place that stinks of damp, old boiled cabbage and mouse droppings,' she said without rancour. ‘But then we 'ad each other, and I suppose that were enough to get us through most things.'

‘Where are your brothers and sister now?' asked Mary as she stowed away her underwear and sweaters in one of the empty drawers.

‘They're all in the navy,' Ivy replied as she stepped into a grey skirt and fastened the side buttons. ‘Me sister works as an assistant to some Admiral, cos she can type and do shorthand. The boys are on the Atlantic convoys.'

Mary heard the slight tremor in her voice and made no comment, for platitudes couldn't ease the worry of knowing that the convoys were suffering huge losses as they battled to bring in supplies. She finished unpacking and placed her hairbrush and washbag on the dressing table. ‘Is there a bathroom upstairs?'

‘Yeah, it's right next door.' Ivy grinned. ‘Ever so posh, ain't it? I don't know meself after all the years of sitting in a tin tub by the kitchen fire.'

‘Are you going out?' Mary asked as Ivy put on a clean blouse.

‘Yes, and you're coming with me,' she replied firmly.

‘Oh, I don't know, Ivy. I think I'd rather read for a bit and then go to bed.'

Ivy stilled and put her hands on her hips, her expression stern. ‘How old are you?'

‘Eighteen.'

‘Well then,' said Ivy, ‘you should be out and about having a bit of fun – not sitting in 'ere on yer tod reading a flamin' book. If 'er ladyship has 'er way, you'll be down there with 'er listening to the flamin' wireless.' She finished buttoning her blouse and pulled on a knitted cardigan. ‘So you gotta choice. Out with me, or in with 'er.'

The thought of being trapped with Doris was too awful, and although she was tired, Mary was quite tempted by the idea of going out with Ivy. ‘Where were you thinking of going?' she asked hesitantly.

‘The Anchor.'

‘But that's a pub,' gasped a shocked Mary. She'd never actually been in one, but knew from her parents that they were disreputable places that respectable girls should never be seen in.

Ivy laughed as she borrowed Mary's brush to get the tangles out of her hair. ‘Ten out of ten for observation,' she chuckled. ‘So what's wrong with that? Me and the girls often go there for a bit of a sing-song and that.'

‘But isn't it a bit . . . a bit . . .'

The dimples appeared. ‘Bless you, gel, you ain't never been in a pub before, 'ave ya?'

Mary shook her head and could feel her face reddening.