The Women of Mulberry Lane, page 5
They managed to avoid the searching lights and waited for the activity to quieten. It did after about twenty minutes. Jimmy checked his watch: still plenty of time for the air support to finish the job.
‘Ready to go,’ he whispered and they crawled, taking advantage of the dark between the sweep of the searchlights. The first part of their mission was simple. The wall was high, but two of them joined hands and Irish jumped on them and up to the top of the wall. He threw the thick sacking over the expected barbed wire, attached his rope to it and then hauled up first Bob and then Jimmy. Both made it easily; they’d been trained to walk sheer cliffs just like this and it was a piece of cake, as Bob muttered. Dropping down the other side, they held their breath waiting for the wail of a siren to give them away: silence and darkness. Walking softly, they made a beeline for where they knew the main work of assembly was done. If intelligence had got it right, the explosive materials were in a long shed next to the factory.
‘If you set both up and then blow the munitions, the factory will go too,’ their superior officer had told them. ‘We don’t expect you to do the whole job – just light up the targets for the Fly boys… they’ll do the rest.’
The dogs raced towards them as they approached the long shed, snarling and growling, but Irish just whistled, a high shrill noise that the other men could scarcely hear, but the dogs did and they went down on their bellies watching him.
‘It’s the reason there was no alarm as we came over – they trust the dogs…’ Bob hissed.
‘Just get on with it,’ Irish muttered. ‘One of the brutes is looking a bit restive. I’m not sure how long he’ll hold.’
The three men worked feverishly, laying wires and setting up the fuses and the explosive material they’d brought with them. The walls of the factory looked too thick to blow with the amount of explosives they’d been able to bring, but the shed would make a big bang and light the sky for miles. The bombers couldn’t fail to pinpoint it once they’d done their work, and the saboteurs could damage the factory even if they couldn’t destroy it themselves.
‘Ready?’ Jimmy asked and the other two nodded. ‘Right, start running…’
He thrust the plunger down and then got up to follow the other two who were halfway back to the wall. One of the dogs jumped up and launched itself at Jimmy’s leg and he gave a cry of pain as its fangs bit deep into the flesh.
A cry of alarm came from behind him as Jimmy struggled to get free of the dog. The words were spoken in German, but Jimmy got the meaning. He kicked the dog in the face and it let go for a moment. He started running again, but the guard was yelling and shooting and he felt the hail of bullets from a machine gun strike his body seconds before the blast that suddenly set the sky alight.
Even as he fell, Jimmy was thinking of Rose and the wedding he’d promised her. ‘I’m sorry, Rose,’ he murmured as everything went black and he sank into oblivion. Jimmy never heard the bombs falling all over the targets he and his comrades had highlighted. If he had been able to think he would have smiled in satisfaction as the whole place burst apart and the flames spread, engulfing buildings, guards, dogs and everything for several hundred yards all around, including the body lying only feet from the wall and escape.
*
Rose sat up suddenly in bed, feeling cold all over. She was shivering and she was frightened, though she didn’t know why. Something had seemed to explode in her head and she’d felt pain in her chest. She rubbed at it, but there was no pain now and she knew that she was alone in her bed in Tom Barton’s father’s house.
What had woken her? She had no idea, but she knew it had upset her and she still felt shaky. She decided to go downstairs and make herself a hot cup of tea. It was just her misery at being let down over the wedding, but she was conscious of a feeling of heavy depression and she wanted to cry, though she wasn’t sure why.
The range was still warm and she stoked it, making it flame enough to heat a kettle. She took a biscuit from the packet she’d opened earlier and sat down to drink her tea and comfort herself as she ate and drank, but the tears would not be held and she let them fall.
‘Oh, Jimmy,’ she whispered. ‘Why did you let me down? Why did you cancel the wedding? I do love you so and I thought you loved me…’
Hugging her knees, Rose bent her head and let her misery engulf her. She felt as if her world had come to an end, which was stupid. Surely Jimmy would come back and say it was all a mistake. He wouldn’t just desert her.
‘Jimmy…’ she said over and over. ‘Please, please come back to me…’
*
Peggy took the bundle of letters from Reg, paused a few minutes to talk with the friendly postman and placed them on the kitchen table as she took the latest batch of shepherd’s pie from the oven. The potato on top was nicely browned and it smelled good, even though there were more carrots and onions than minced lamb inside. Yet she knew her customers appreciated her cooking, because they enjoyed the taste and the luxury of hot food rather than just a dried-up sandwich, which was the alternative for many of them. Some of the single men had even given Peggy their ration books to help her keep the meals coming. One, a man in his fifties, and a widower, had told her his reasons.
‘I can’t cook, Peggy,’ Bill Jones had explained. ‘It’s bread and cheese or a pie from the shop on the corner for me since my wife died. If my ration book helps you to put more food on the counter, which I can buy, then I’m happy. I’ll keep my butter and cheese rations, but you’re welcome to the margarine and meat, such as it is.’
‘Then you’ll get an extra big helping of pie,’ Peggy said. She’d offered him money, but Bill refused. It would make it illegal, he thought, and he preferred that she used his ration to provide a meal that would feed others besides him. ‘It’s the same as if I were yer lodger,’ he’d told her with a grin. ‘I’d give yer me ration card then – and I don’t need much more than a good meal once a day.’
She’d made the shepherd’s pie just for him, because it had always been his favourite. The apple pie she made for afters would feed eight and was gone within an hour of it being cooked. In fact all her food sold out these days and she knew it was that which had kept the pub going. Beer was the staple drink of the East End working men, but some days she had to ration it to just half a pint each, because the deliveries were hit and miss. She spent ages on the phone reminding the brewery that she was entitled to her share of what was going, but sometimes felt that they ignored her. She got her deliveries, but not always what she’d ordered and often a day late.
If Laurie had been here perhaps he could have sorted them out, but he was sick and she hadn’t heard a word from him in months. She’d written to the doctors at the isolation hospital and a nurse had replied, telling her that Laurie was doing as well as could be expected and she would be told when she could visit.
‘Is the pie ready?’ Anne asked. She’d returned from her day out with Kirk the previous evening and was working in the bar, her baby sound asleep in her cot in the kitchen. She peeped at her child and kissed her soft cheek, smiling across at Peggy. ‘Your customers have caught the smell, Peggy, and they’re hungry…’
Peggy handed her a large tray with the pie, a dish of mashed swede and another of cabbage chopped fine with a knob of margarine, salt and pepper.
‘That makes me hungry too,’ Anne said. ‘I’m going to have some of that winter salad you made earlier if I get a chance…’
Peggy smiled as Anne carried the tray through to the bar. It was good working with friends, and Anne’s husband wouldn’t be here for Christmas. He’d had a few days’ leave but had that morning returned to training camp, where he was teaching bright young men to become officers. Anne had been delighted when her husband had been chosen for the duty, because it meant he didn’t have to fight for a few months – and perhaps by next year the war would be over.
Now that the morning’s cooking was finished, Peggy sat down at her table and looked though the letters. Two were bills and she stuck them on a long pin where she kept the unpaid bills ready for after Christmas, when she had time to deal with them. There were two personal letters, one in a hand she did not recognise and the other from her son Pip’s wife Sheila. Pip was in the Airforce and Peggy hadn’t heard from him for a while, but Sheila wrote most weeks.
She opened that first and began to read, but her smile soon faded.
Dearest Peggy,
I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but Pip had an accident. He was testing a plane that had been hit on a mission and repaired, and it had an undiscovered stress fault in the wing, which cracked and fell off on take-off. The plane careered into a hedge, swerved and turned over, throwing Pip clear. That sounds terrible, but we’re lucky. If he’d been in the air he would have crashed and might have died – as it is, he has a broken leg, a damaged shoulder, some cuts and bruises to his face and hands and a piece of metal in his left eye.
Pip is devastated, because the injury to his eye means he can’t fly again. His sight may return one day, but the doctors say it will not be good enough for him to continue as a pilot. Pip’s war is over, Mum, and he is miserable. He forbade me to tell you when the accident first happened, but now he’s feeling a bit better and we hope we can come to stay with you when they let him out of hospital. It won’t be for Christmas, but it might be in time for Janet’s wedding.
I know this is terrible news, but I had to tell you. It wasn’t fair to keep you all in the dark, though he’ll be annoyed with me for telling you. I don’t think it is a good idea for you to visit yet, but that is up to you.
Anyway, I wanted you to know. Pip thought you had enough to worry about, but knowing you I thought you would be angry if we didn’t tell you.
One last thing, a bit of good news. We’re having a baby and I’m fine.
I look forward to hearing from you, even if you can’t manage to get down.
Your loving daughter-in-law, Sheila.
Peggy sat for some minutes staring at her daughter-in-law’s letter. A part of her wanted to claw up and catch the next train down to Sheila’s home and make sure Pip was still breathing. He was her baby and she needed to see him and touch him, but it was difficult to get away just like that. She had far too much to do and she couldn’t run off and leave it all to Janet and others. Perhaps after Christmas she could make arrangements to go down on the train, but from Sheila’s letter, her son would not appreciate that and it might make him angry with his wife for telling her.
She felt the tears on her cheeks and when Janet came in with Maggie by the hand, Peggy silently handed the letter to her daughter.
‘Poor old Pip,’ Janet said and set Maggie down on the floor. ‘That is rotten luck for him, Mum. I know he was hoping to carry on flying after the war. It is all he ever wanted to do.’
‘Yes, I know.’ Peggy brushed the tears from her cheeks. ‘I can’t leave before Christmas but I’ll close the pub for a couple of days afterwards and we could both go down. I know you’ll want to see your brother too.’
‘Yes, that’s a good idea,’ Janet said. ‘I wondered why I hadn’t had a letter recently. Pip has always written to me. Sheila must be upset… and she’s having a baby, too.’
‘That’s the one bright thing in all this,’ Peggy said and sighed, because sometimes the war seemed too much to cope with and she felt like dissolving into tears.
‘No, Mum, that’s not all,’ Janet said determinedly. ‘Pip is alive. I couldn’t bear it if he’d died. He is my brother and I love him. He always stood by me, even when Dad disowned me – and I’ll stand by him. He’ll recover and he’ll find another way to live – we just have to help him through it.’
Peggy gave a little sob and hugged her daughter. ‘Sometimes I despair because this bloody war never seems to end. I’ve lost too many people to it…’
‘But we haven’t lost Pip,’ Janet said and held on to her hand. ‘Sheila is right, Mum. We were lucky. If the stress crack had failed when Pip was in the air he’d be dead or burned horrifically – he’s got a broken leg, a sore shoulder and one eye that might not work, but the other one does. There’s plenty he can do still – we have to be thankful for that…’
Peggy smiled weakly, blinking back the foolish tears. ‘Thank you, my love. I know you’re right – but I also know my son. It will break his heart…’ Pip would be suffering terribly, but Peggy had to be strong because crying would not help anyone.
‘Hearts mend,’ Janet said but looked bleak. ‘I know he’s suffering, Mum, but he’s got Sheila, the promise of a child – and he has us. It’s more than a lot have. Whole families have been wiped out by those bloody V2s… we’ve still got most of our family.’
Peggy nodded. Because there was no warning, the effects of a direct hit could be devastating and if a family was inside the target they died. She’d known the people in the lane behind and too many had died in that last hit. It was just that there had been so many deaths and so much pain this news seemed hard to bear.
‘Yes, I know, love – but Pip isn’t goin’ to accept the end of his flying easily. Sheila will have a hard time of it as he comes to terms with his loss.’
‘He’ll get a lecture from me if he upsets her,’ Janet said strongly. ‘Pip managed to do what he wanted for longer than many. He’s lucky to be alive and so I shall tell him…’
‘Yes…’ Peggy smiled. Janet could be very fierce these days when she was passionate about something. Her daughter had grown up so much after the loss of her beloved husband. Janet had suffered as much as most and yet she was learning to live again, planning a new life – but Peggy knew she had not forgotten her dead husband, nor would she.
Peggy picked up her other letter and opened it, staring at it in bewilderment as she read the words.
‘What’s wrong, Mum?’
‘It’s from Laurie, or supposed to be,’ Peggy said. ‘One of the nurses wrote it for him – he says he wants us to separate permanently…’
‘He what?’ Janet stared at her. ‘How could he send you a letter like that after all you’ve done?’
‘Just a minute…’ Peggy read on to the end of the letter and then shook her head in disbelief. ‘Laurie has been told officially that he can never run a pub again even if he recovers – something about being a carrier of TB. He couldn’t work in a place that serves food and drink to the public.’ She looked at her daughter. ‘He has asked that I buy him out for two thousand pounds…’
‘Good grief!’ Janet stared at her in disbelief. ‘Where does he think you can get that much money from? Even if his half is worth that much, which I doubt…’
‘I don’t know – unless he went through my private papers and discovered that Able left me that amount…’
‘The bastard!’ Janet said and then blushed as her mother shook her head at her. ‘He is, Mum. After all you’ve put up with – keeping this place going all that time. Besides, I thought you told me he had some savings. Why does he need to take all yours?’
‘He had two thousand in a building society, but I suppose he will need money to live on if he recovers, and a home. All he knows is how to run a pub and he can’t do that again…’
‘He will have to learn something else,’ Janet said and sounded harder than she was. ‘Don’t give into him, Mum. He doesn’t deserve that you should make it easy for him.’
‘I shall need to think about this…’ Peggy sighed, because at the moment Laurie’s demands were the least of her problems. She would have given every penny she had to have Pip safe and whole again but Laurie was selfish and she didn’t feel like giving him what he wanted. ‘He could have timed it a little better. I need to think about Pip and what’s best for the family…’
‘Do you think Dad would care about Pip?’
‘Janet!’ Peggy looked at her reprovingly. ‘Your father isn’t that bad. Of course he will care that Pip may lose the sight in one eye.’
‘He never wanted him to fly. He said he should go in for designing them – and maybe that’s what he could still do. If Pip has one good eye he can draw and make models…’
‘That’s for Pip and Sheila and the future,’ Peggy said. She looked at the letter again and frowned. ‘It’s odd. They told us we couldn’t write to Laurie – and that he couldn’t write to us, and yet this nurse – Sister Laura Jones – has written it for him. Doesn’t that strike you as odd? She’s allowed to do things like this and yet I can’t write or visit.’
‘I don’t know…’ Janet frowned. ‘To be honest I don’t care. Father would charm the birds from the air if he set his mind to it – but it’s what he’s asking of you that makes me angry. You’re supposed to give him all your savings and keep this place running just because he can’t…’
‘Yes, that’s about it,’ Peggy said and frowned. ‘I’ve known for years that Laurie was selfish and didn’t care about me – but this seems cold even for him. I’m inclined to put the letter on the fire and ignore it…’
‘You could have a tea shop and a home of your own – somewhere nicer with less work…’ Janet hesitated, then, ‘When I marry it’s going to be hard for you to manage here.’
‘I know – but I’ll face that when it happens,’ Peggy said. Obviously, Janet had been worrying about leaving her in the lurch. ‘If I could talk to Laurie I might be able to sort this out a bit, but I’m not inclined to hand over every penny I have. Besides, Able is alive and that money belongs to him by rights.’ Able had made arrangements for Peggy to have the money but she’d always felt it was his and hadn’t touched it. That money would be waiting for Able when he came back.
