Neighbours at War, page 13
‘Here, let me help you,’ a kindly person said, taking her by the arms and helping her carefully to her feet.
‘Thank you.’ Peggy looked into the sad eyes of a dark-haired middle-aged man.
‘I hadn’t banked on it being this icy.’ She peered past him to see the soldier striding away, not caring whether she was hurt. ‘I must have bumped into him.’
‘Nasty piece of work, that one,’ he said. Peggy assumed he had had a run-in with the man before. ‘He should have been looking where he was going. He was too busy sneering at me to notice you before it was too late.’
‘I should have been a little more careful, too,’ she said, doing her best to brush snow off the seat of her coat and her knees. ‘I must look a mess.’
‘You’ll soon dry when you’re somewhere warmer.’ He considered something for a moment. ‘Would you like me to accompany you to wherever it is you’re going?’
Peggy didn’t think that wise. ‘There’s no need. I’m on my way to Newgate.’
He looked aghast. ‘The prison?’
She nodded. ‘I have a letter to deliver.’ When the man eyed her suspiciously, she thought it best to elaborate further. ‘I work for an advocate and one of his clients has been arrested. We’re hoping to secure his release.’
‘I see.’ He looked around, seeming uncomfortable. ‘I really should be on my way. My son will worry if I’m late.’
‘Thank you again for helping me, it was very kind of you.’
Determined to be more careful, Peggy set off again and shortly afterwards reached the junction where Seaton Place met Gloucester Street. She was about to cross the road when she spotted someone she thought she recognised, walking with head bowed and his hands deep in his coat pockets.
‘Tony?’ She breathed his name, barely daring to hope he had been released. Realising he wasn’t coming in her direction but heading towards the Esplanade, she picked up speed until, slipping slightly, she had to grab the wall beside her to keep her balance. She slowed her pace, hoping not to lose him. She was about to call out to him when she saw two officers coming in her direction from Newgate Street.
She crossed Gloucester Street, doing her best to follow Tony, wishing he would slow down and allow her to catch up. Damn this ice, she fumed. If only she could run, she would catch up to him in no time. Where was he going, anyway? His father’s office was in the opposite direction.
Eventually, seeing the road was clear of soldiers, Peggy called out to him. She kept her voice fairly low, not wishing to draw attention to herself, but when he didn’t hear she shouted again, this time a little louder.
‘Tony, wait.’
He stopped and turned, looking surprised to see her there and immediately hurried to join her.
‘Where were you going?’ she asked as he slipped his arms around her in a brief hug. ‘Your father will be waiting to hear from you.’
‘I was going straight to see him but changed my mind.’ He smiled, looking a little sheepish. ‘I wanted to let you know what had happened.’ He took her hands in his. ‘I knew you’d be worried.’
‘I was.’ She slipped her arms around his waist and clung to him for as long as she dared until a military vehicle passed and she let go, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention.
‘Never mind me, what are you doing here?’
She quickly explained about taking a letter from his father to the prison governor. ‘Well, that was the plan, but it doesn’t matter now you’re free.’ She brushed away a tear. ‘We never dared expect you to be out this quickly.’ She saw him studying her.
‘You’re trembling.’ He noticed her damp skirt. ‘And you’re soaking. Did you fall?’ He took her arms and held her away from him as he inspected her knees. ‘Your tights are ripped.’ He took her hand and began leading her along the road.
‘Where are we going?’
‘I’m taking you home. You need to change into something dry before you catch a chill.’
She tugged at his hand trying to stop him. ‘I must go to the office first,’ she explained, her voice rising when he didn’t slow down. ‘Your father will be waiting to hear from me.’
‘That can wait. He won’t be expecting you to be very quick, anyway.’ He held her tightly to his side. ‘It’s because of me and my actions that you’re out here in the freezing cold wearing wet clothes. I’m not going to have you falling ill and on my conscience.’ He led her towards St Aubin’s Road. ‘And before you argue, I can assure you my father would expect me to do this.’
She gave in, aware that he was right and grateful to be going home. Her head ached with the cold and her knee throbbed. She looked up at him as they walked and, sensing her gaze on him, Tony smiled at her. ‘When you’re changed, you can tell me what you intended saying to the jail Kommandant.’
‘Happily,’ she agreed. ‘And you can tell me what you were doing to cause your arrest.’
They reached her home and Peggy opened the front door, beckoning him inside.
‘Are you certain your mother won’t mind?’ he asked looking past her towards the kitchen.
Peggy loved that her tiny mother barely five feet in height intimidated a man as big as Tony. She was about to tease him when Ida marched through from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in one hand and a towel draped over her other arm. ‘Won’t mind what?’
‘Tony, you’re out?’ Babs cheered from halfway up the stairs. She ran down to join them.
Tony widened his eyes at Peggy and she could tell he was embarrassed.
‘What are you doing back home so early?’ Ida noticed Peggy’s ripped tights and bedraggled appearance, moved forward and touched her daughter’s leg. ‘Are you hurt?’
Peggy shook her head. ‘I slipped, Mum. I’m fine. Tony spotted me and insisted on walking me home.’ She didn’t elaborate, and was glad when her mother didn’t ask questions.
‘That’s very gentlemanly of you, Tony.’ Ida gave him a grateful smile then, turning her attention to Peggy, raised her eyebrows. ‘Go to your room and change before you catch your death.’
Not wishing him to leave before she was back down again, Peggy said, ‘Maybe Tony would like a warm drink before he sets off to work?’
Her mother winced. ‘Where’s my manners? Babs, show Tony through to the living room.’
‘Please, it’s fine,’ he argued. ‘I really should speak to my father without delay.’ He caught Peggy’s eye and that usual flutter in her stomach increased. ‘I’ll see you on Monday, then?’
‘It’s all right, Mum, I’ll see Tony out.’
Her mother gave a resigned sigh. ‘Fine, but be quick about it. I want you in dry clothes in the next couple of minutes.’
She waited for her mother to return to the kitchen. Babs gave her a cheeky grin then said goodbye to him and joined Ida.
When they were alone, Peggy hugged him. ‘Thanks again for bringing me home.’
‘Thank you for trying to rescue me.’ He looked over her head, then lowered his voice. ‘We’ll speak at the office on Monday. I doubt your mother will be happy with you going out in this weather tonight and I assume my parents will have a lot to say to me.’
‘Could we meet tomorrow?’
He didn’t catch her eye for a second then sighed. ‘I would love to, but I have a meeting.’
Peggy mood dipped and her head ached with worry. ‘Oh, no, Tony—’
He put a finger to her lips and shook his head. ‘I’ll be fine, I promise.’ He checked they were alone then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. ‘I really must go now.’
She held onto his hand, hoping that whatever he was doing wouldn’t get him into more trouble. ‘You’re not going to tell me what you were doing when they arrested you, are you?’
‘It’s safer if you don’t know.’ He gave her a searching look and she knew he was trying to gauge whether she trusted him.
‘It’s fine. I understand, but please be more careful in future.’
He stared at her thoughtfully for a moment and Peggy hoped he was about to confide in her about something. ‘I will,’ he said, kissing her. ‘I promise never to get caught again.’
‘I don’t see how you can say that.’
‘Peggy,’ her mother’s voice boomed from the kitchen. ‘You’d better not still be in those wet clothes.’
‘Go and change.’ He kissed her quickly and was out of the door before she had a chance to say anything else.
‘I’m changing now, Mum,’ she shouted, running upstairs to her room praying Tony would keep safe.
Chapter Twenty-Six
HELEN
Helen sat opposite her aunt in front of the small fire that had gone a little way to heating the front room. If only the ceilings weren’t so high in these Victorian houses, she thought, watching as her aunt snoozed, a knitted shawl around her shoulders and two blankets covering her from her chest to her feet. It was peaceful with only the occasional voice passing their front window.
Bobby was asleep on the sofa snuggled in blankets, his toy train clutched in his tiny hand. Helen thought how perfect this scenario would be if it wasn’t wartime and her aunt wasn’t unwell. Sylvia had developed another chest cough and there was a greyish pallor to her skin and purplish circles under her eyes. Helen had pleaded with her to let her go for the doctor, but Sylvia had refused to allow it, telling her she was fine and there was little he could do anyhow.
As she watched the closest person to her after Bobby, fear shot though her at the realisation that one day she might be staring at an empty seat. Her aunt might do her best to reassure her but Helen wasn’t fooled. Aunt Sylvia was dying, and there was little she could do about it.
Helen’s throat constricted and she wiped away a stray tear just as her aunt opened her eyes.
Sitting up straighter with some effort, Sylvia frowned. ‘Whatever’s the matter, dear?’
Irritated with herself for not being more careful, Helen shook her head. ‘It’s nothing,’ she fibbed, frantically trying to think of something to say. ‘I was, er, just thinking about Richard.’
‘You’ve decided to reply to his telegram then?’ her aunt asked, appearing happy at the thought. Helen suspected her aunt wanted her to reply more than she would like to admit and she couldn’t help thinking that it was the right thing to do.
‘Yes, I think I will.’
Sylvia pulled her shawl tighter round her chest. ‘I’m pleased, though curious to know what made you change your mind.’
‘I think it was discovering Tony had been arrested. It made me consider how I’d feel if something happened to Richard and I hadn’t bothered to reply to him when I had the chance.’ She couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
‘I know, dear. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re being sensible.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. It’s one thing sticking to your principles during peacetime, but this is war and everything is a bit topsy-turvy, especially when it comes to relationships, and especially love.’
She wasn’t sure why she was surprised to hear her aunt’s opinion. ‘Now I need to think what to say. I don’t want to give him false hope and I don’t think it’s right that I tell him about Bobby. Something like that should be done face-to-face.’ She noticed the doubt on her aunt’s face. ‘What do you think?’
‘I believe the most important thing is to know you’ve done the right thing by Bobby.’ Sylvia looked down at her hands briefly. ‘I’m sorry, but I believe that would be to tell Richard about him. Everything else will sort itself out somehow.’
Her aunt was right. She had already wasted too much time, and if she couldn’t do what she believed to be the right thing during these dark times, then there was something lacking in her.
‘You’re right. I’ll do it during my lunch break tomorrow.’
‘Good girl.’ Sylvia smiled. It dawned on Helen that her aunt had been waiting for her to come to this conclusion for a while.
‘It matters to you that I do this, doesn’t it?’
Sylvia nodded slowly. ‘I worry that when this war ends – because we have to believe that it will – your parents might not accept that dear little boy.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m concerned that if I’m not around, you’ll need someone to turn to.’ She reached out and took Helen’s trembling hand in hers. ‘Sweetheart, none of us should be alone, especially not a young mother, and even if the only relationship you have with Richard is as friends, at least I’ll know there’s another adult who loves Bobby almost as much as I do.’
Helen cleared her throat, not wishing to cry. ‘Almost as much?’ she teased, desperate to divert her aunt’s attention from the seriousness of what she was saying.
Sylvia stared at her before her face relaxed into a smile. ‘All seriousness aside, I believe his father couldn’t fail to love Bobby.’
Unable to contain her tears any longer, Helen began to sob. Her aunt went to her and gave her a hug. ‘Whatever happens, promise me you’ll never give up hoping that everything will work out in the end.’
How could she make a promise about something she didn’t know she had the strength to do?
‘You mustn’t despair, Helen. It never helped anyone. Bobby needs you to be strong.’
Seeing the concern on her aunt’s face, Helen knew she needed to reassure her. ‘I promise I’ll stay strong for him.’
She helped her aunt upstairs, promising to tell her what she would write in her telegram to Richard the following morning, then kissed her goodnight.
Her aunt hugged her tightly. ‘Don’t fret too much about what you’ll say. The most important thing he needs is a reply. Anything else will be a bonus.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
Helen closed her aunt’s bedroom door quietly and went to her room where Bobby was sleeping soundly. As she washed and changed, she thought about what her aunt had said. It was a relief to have the pressure taken away, not having to struggle to find the perfect reply. She slid between her freezing sheets and shivered. She still hadn’t decided whether to mention Bobby.
By the morning, she was no less agitated. The dawn was breaking and after only a couple of hours’ sleep she sat on her bed with a pencil and piece of paper determined to come up with a message for him.
Finally, she had something. It wasn’t perfect but it would do.
Should have spoken before leaving. Bobby (your son), Aunt Sylvia and I are well. Have job and friends. Keep safe. Please send word again. Helen
Deciding she couldn’t improve it any further, Helen dressed, folded the piece of paper and tucked it in her skirt pocket to show her aunt.
She carried Bobby downstairs, raising his chubby hand and kissing it. ‘You’re such a handsome boy,’ she cooed, noticing that his eyes were the image of Richard’s and wondering why she hadn’t seen it before. Probably, she thought, because she hadn’t wanted to. Now that she had prepared the telegram, she was eager to send it and decided to leave early for work to give her time to do it.
‘Good morning, Aunty,’ she said, smiling as her aunt waited for her to put Bobby into his highchair before kissing the top of his head.
‘You’re looking pleased with yourself,’ her aunt said a twinkle in her tired eyes. ‘You’ve written it, haven’t you?’
‘I have.’ She took the piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to her aunt. ‘Sit down and read it, then you can tell me what you think while I put the kettle on.’
Helen didn’t mind not eating breakfast, especially as Cook usually had something tasty when she arrived at work, but she wasn’t comfortable with her aunt going without.
‘I’ll bring some food home for our supper,’ she promised, dropping the tea leaves they had left out to dry the previous evening into the teapot and watching as her aunt read her words. ‘What do you think?’
‘You’ve managed to convey a lot in twenty-five words.’
‘I’m happy to change anything you think might give the wrong impression.’
‘If you mean the bit where you let him know he has a son, then I think that’s well done.’ She held the note out for Helen to take. ‘This is good. Well done. Make sure you send it today.’
‘You needn’t worry about me changing my mind.’ Helen laughed. She was looking forward to sending it, now that she had worked out what to say.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
HELEN
March 1942
Helen sensed a different atmosphere in the house as soon as she woke. Her aunt’s health had continued to deteriorate, and the cool spring weather hadn’t helped alleviate her symptoms. She knew without checking on her that something dreadful had happened. Not wishing to take Bobby to Sylvia’s room, she lowered him into his playpen, ignoring his protests, and ran upstairs to her aunt’s room. Standing outside the door Helen struggled to find the strength to enter, her fear at what she might discover making her feel lightheaded.
Knowing she couldn’t delay going inside any longer, Helen took a steadying breath and, without allowing herself to think, put her hand on the doorknob and turned it. She pushed the door open slowly and stepped inside.
Even with the curtains closed Helen couldn’t mistake her aunt’s slightly opened eyes staring ahead, unseeing. It was clear she had passed away.
Helen dropped to her knees by the bed and took Sylvia’s cool, lifeless hand in hers. ‘Please don’t leave me,’ she sobbed, unable to bear the thought that this woman who had been everything to her and Bobby had gone.
Struggling to control her grief, she knew she had to do something. Had to tell someone.
Remembering her aunt’s words about staying strong for Bobby, she knew she had to keep her promise. Fresh tears flowed down her face. She couldn’t move away from the bed, certain she couldn’t take any more heartache.
