Peggy had been dreading the moment Daisy asked where Queenie was, but the child hadn’t noticed her absence until after she’d had a late breakfast. Peggy gently told her that Queenie had gone to Heaven, and because she was very happy there, she wouldn’t be coming back.
Daisy didn’t really understand and asked a lot of questions about why Queenie had wanted to go to Heaven instead of staying here, and why she couldn’t play with her any more.
Peggy did her best to explain and gave her a cuddle as she’d shed a few tears, but she knew from past experience with her other children that Daisy would soon forget Queenie, and was thankful that little ones had short memories.
Ron returned from his sad task and made a huge fuss of poor Harvey, who’d been wandering through the house and garden looking for his playmate. They left shortly afterwards so Ron could help Rosie finish the lunchtime session at the pub.
The kitchen was quiet, for Fran and Danuta were still at the hospital, Sarah and Rita had returned to their beds to catch up on sleep, and the electricity was still off so they couldn’t put the wireless on. Cordelia sat with Daisy on her lap reading her a story by candlelight as the boarded-up window made the kitchen so dark, and Peggy was trying to concentrate on her mending, but she was all too aware of the empty hearthrug, and kept pricking her fingers with the needle.
She gave up, lit a cigarette and read the headlines in the paper, which had only just been delivered.
But after a while she found she hadn’t taken any of it in, so set the paper aside and tried to find the heart to go outside and see what was left of the houses in Victoria Terrace. However, she’d heard enough graphic descriptions from the others, and the thought of becoming one of those people who went to stand and gawp at scenes of others’ tragedy made her shudder, so she picked up her darning again.
As she sewed, her thoughts turned to the clothing factory and Mavis Anderson – or Whitlock as she was now. Mavis had been due to start there today, and was no doubt already picking out the women she could boss about, and those who would stand up to her – and she’d certainly find quite a few of those on the factory floor. Back in their schooldays, Peggy had never been one of Mavis’s targets, but she’d seen the harm her bullying had done to others and had fought their corner, which was probably why Mavis had left her alone. But Mavis also had a darker side, she remembered. She would sneak to the teachers, steal food from lunch boxes and demand money in return for keeping her mouth shut over some childish indiscretion. Sharp-eyed and nosy, she’d made it her business to find something she could use as a lever to get her own way and show herself in a good light to the teachers – who were taken in by her big eyes and innocent expression.
She had yet to meet her again since they’d left school, but that dubious joy awaited her tomorrow morning. She did so hope Mavis had changed for the better, but if she still had that vindictive streak in her, Peggy could only see trouble ahead. She would have to keep an eye on things, stop any fights erupting and try not to get caught up in the middle of it all. Thankfully they’d be on different shifts, and she could only hope that Mavis stuck to her hours and didn’t try and interfere in hers.
Ivy came hurtling through the door to break into her thoughts by shouting out her news. ‘Me two mates were on night shift, so they’re all right,’ she declared, dragging off her coat and scarf and plumping down into a kitchen chair.
‘That’s the first bit of good news I’ve heard today,’ Peggy said with a soft smile. ‘I’m so glad for you.’
Ivy was warming to her subject. ‘Honestly, Auntie Peggy, I’m that relieved,’ she gabbled on. ‘I dunno what I’d’ve done if they’d bought it, ’cos we all lived in the same street since we was nippers with our arses ’anging out of our knickers, and come down ’ere together to get away from the bombs and ’ave a bit of fun.’ She pulled a face. ‘We got that wrong, and no mistake. It’s as bad ’ere as in the Smoke.’
‘Where will your friends live now?’ Peggy asked as Ivy stopped talking to draw breath.
‘They’re going into the hostel at Collington and will get bussed in every day,’ said Ivy, distracted by Daisy who’d come to lean against her knee. She ruffled her dark curls. ‘Hello, love, what you lookin’ so gloomy about?’
‘Keenie gone to Heaven,’ the child replied solemnly. ‘Mumma said I can’t go and play with her.’
Ivy’s eyes widened and she shot a questioning glance at Peggy who nodded back. ‘I’ll explain later,’ she murmured.
Ivy hugged Daisy and gave her a kiss before encouraging her to return to Cordelia’s story-telling. Once the child was settled, she leaned towards Peggy and became quite tearful as Peggy explained what had happened.
She took a moment to compose herself, and then reached for Peggy’s hand. ‘I’m sorry I got carried away earlier, Auntie Peg,’ she said softly, ‘but there is more bad news, I’m afraid.’
Peggy’s heart thudded with dread as Ivy pulled a piece of paper from her trouser pocket and placed it on the table.
‘This is the list of five of the girls who died today. They all worked for Solly.’
Peggy wondered when this awful day would end, and reluctantly picked up the list to read the names with deepening sorrow. They’d been a young, jolly group of girls who’d gone everywhere together and were the life and soul of every party. They’d always been ready to tell a rather off-colour joke or start a singalong to the music on the wireless – but they’d also been hard-working, adept at their jobs and true team players. To think of all that youthful exuberance being wiped out, was almost too much to bear.
‘The Colonel doesn’t have their details, and the telephone lines are still down, so he wondered if you’d be kind enough to tell Solly so their families can be informed.’
Ivy bit her lip. ‘I’m sorry to ask you, Auntie Peg, it’s been an ’orrible day all round, but as shop floor supervisor, you’re best placed to deal with this.’
Peggy took a deep breath and then got to her feet. ‘If you could help Cordelia keep an eye on Daisy, I’ll go and tell Solly now.’
At Ivy’s nod, she pulled on her coat, tied her scarf over her head and grabbed the umbrella in case it decided to rain again. Kissing Daisy goodbye and promising to return as soon as possible, she hurried out of the house and, once she was in the alleyway, broke into a run.
She needed to escape the horrors of the day; the sadness, and the awful feeling of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm her. Tears were hot on her face, and she stopped running as she approached the factory gates, knowing it was futile, for no matter how far or fast she ran, she could never escape the bitter realities of this war. And yet, as she tried to get her breath back, wiped away her tears and gazed up at the austere red-brick building, she was comforted by the knowledge that some things never changed.
Solly would be there in his office as he always was on a Sunday which, in his Jewish faith, was regarded as a working day like any other. Friday night to Saturday night was his Sabbath, and it was the only time he stayed at home with Rachel – unless there was an emergency. And Camden Road might look a bit battered, but with everyone pulling together, there was once again the harmony of good fellowship – and that was growing stronger year by year as this war carried on.
Peggy hadn’t run like that for years, and she was still quite breathless as she trudged up the long flight of stairs to his office and found him with his elegant wife, Rachel, going through the weekly accounts.
‘Peggy, my dear.’ Solly rose from his chair immediately, his concern clear in his face as he put his arm about her shoulders. ‘What has happened to bring you here in such distress?’
Peggy couldn’t answer, so Rachel pulled out a chair and pressed her into it. ‘Sit down, Peggy, and get your breath back.’ She regarded Peggy’s reddened eyes and gently cupped her face in her hand. ‘Is everyone all right at home?’
‘We’re all fine,’ she managed, ‘though the house took a bit of a battering. I ran all the way here, which was a bit silly, considering how out of condition I am,’ she added with a lightness she didn’t feel.
‘That was indeed very foolish,’ Rachel replied with a soft smile.
Peggy had now got her breath back, and she looked into their worried faces. ‘But I do have some bad news and thought you should know straight away.’
Rachel had poured glasses of brandy for them all, and she set them down on the desk. ‘Is it about the girls from Victoria Terrace?’ she asked gently.
‘I’m afraid it is,’ Peggy replied, placing the list on the desk before taking a restorative sip of the warming brandy.
‘Oy vay,’ breathed Solly, his dark eyes bright with the ready tears Peggy had witnessed many times over the years. ‘We were afraid of this when we saw the fire,’ he said gruffly. ‘It would have been a miracle if anyone had survived – but we’d hoped for that miracle and that they were elsewhere. I can’t believe they’re gone. This place won’t feel at all the same without them.’
Rachel gripped Solly’s hand, her expression equally sorrowful, for those girls had been very popular with everyone. ‘Did anyone survive?’ she asked.
Peggy sipped some more brandy before answering. ‘Sadly, there were over thirty killed this morning; the only survivors were six girls on the night shift at the armaments factory. Colonel White is evidently dealing with everything up there, but these girls’ families will have to be informed.’
‘Solly and I will do that, Peggy,’ Rachel murmured. ‘And all the other workers will also need to be informed before the rumour mill starts grinding.’
‘I suggest we do as we’ve always done in these awful circumstances,’ said Peggy. ‘Each shift is told by their supervisor before they start work, and after a short eulogy and prayer, we hold a minute’s silence.’
‘I disagree entirely,’ said Mavis Whitlock, who’d approached so silently that no one had heard her come to the door. ‘It’s all utter nonsense, and totally inappropriate in a workplace.’
Peggy realised that Mavis had missed the start of what she’d been saying as she’d eavesdropped, but it seemed everyone was so shocked by her outburst and sudden appearance, they were in no mood to correct her.
Mavis bustled in, the picture of efficiency in her tweed skirt, immaculate white blouse and sensible shoes, her expression purposeful, not one hair out of place in the tight victory rolls.
‘Hello, Mavis,’ said Peggy without enthusiasm. ‘I’m sorry you don’t agree, but if you had …’
Mavis butted in. ‘You always were a milksop, Peggy Dawson,’ she said briskly. ‘Allowing your heart to rule your head when only discipline and order is called for.’
Peggy heard Rachel’s gasp of astonishment and got to her feet to face Mavis, eye to eye. ‘Five of our most popular girls were killed this morning,’ she said evenly. ‘It’s only right we should acknowledge their passing – just as we’ve done for all the others we’ve lost.’
‘Sentimental claptrap,’ snapped Mavis, her grey eyes hardening beneath severely plucked eyebrows. ‘I might have known you were behind such ridiculous self-indulgence. The dead are dead and the living have a duty to get on with helping to win this war.’
Peggy noted Solly’s expression darkening and was about to reply, but Mavis clearly hadn’t finished airing her views, so she let her dig herself into an even deeper hole.
Mavis squared her shoulders and looked down her nose at Peggy. ‘There’s no place for mawkish sentiment when we’re on a very tight schedule. Wasting time with silly prayers and unnecessary eulogies will achieve nothing but provide an excuse for those half-witted women to hang about gossiping and feeling sorry for themselves instead of getting on with their work.’
Peggy felt her hackles rise as she looked at the mean little mouth, the hard eyes and stubborn chin. The years had clearly not softened Mavis, but sharpened her sense of self-importance and honed her skill for being bossy and nasty with it. She could see the storm gathering in Solly’s eyes, and Rachel’s look of disgust, and decided to help Mavis talk herself into trouble.
‘So, what do you suggest?’ she asked.
Mavis pushed Peggy roughly to one side and addressed Solly directly. ‘With your permission, Solly, I shall get your secretary to type out an announcement first thing tomorrow and pin it to the noticeboard next to where they clock in and out. That way, everyone will be informed without a minute’s work being lost.’
Solly rose slowly from behind his desk, his imposing height and width made all the more daunting by the fury in his eyes. ‘I don’t know what my brother does in these circumstances, but that is not the way we do things here,’ he said flatly. ‘We work as part of a team from the youngest porter to the most senior staff, sharing our joys as well as our sadness, and when one of us is taken, we mourn them as part of the family.’
Mavis took a step back as his face reddened, the storm broke and his voice thundered out.
‘No member of Goldman’s will ever be a name on a list tacked to a bloody noticeboard!’ he roared, slamming his fist on the desk. ‘They will receive the full courtesy of a short eulogy, a prayer and a minute’s silence!’
He was breathing heavily as he glared at Mavis who’d taken another step back, grown quite pale beneath her make-up and was visibly trembling. ‘Is that absolutely clear, Mavis?’ he roared.
‘Yes, Solly,’ she whispered, her head bowed.
‘Good,’ he barked. ‘Because I don’t wish to have this conversation again – and while we’re at it, you’ll call me Mr Goldman until I tell you otherwise – and show Mrs Reilly some respect for the position she holds here.’
Mavis dipped her head even further. ‘Yes, Mr Goldman.’
Like Rachel, Peggy was well acquainted with Solly’s volcanic rages, and because they came and went as swiftly as a summer storm, they no longer had the power to intimidate her. But she was utterly fascinated by the change in Mavis.
It appeared that, like all bullies, she liked to dole it out but couldn’t take it. The obnoxious, self-important and aggressive woman had been cowed into a quivering wreck. It would be very interesting to see how long she lasted in the job now she’d put Solly’s back up on her first day.
Solly buttoned his jacket and picked up the list, his temper still simmering but now under tight control. ‘Peggy, I will inform this shift and give the eulogy. I know it’s your day off, but I would be very grateful if you’d stay and lead us in prayer.’
He turned his flat gaze of contempt on Mavis. ‘Mrs Whitlock, you will accompany us and learn how we do things here.’
He swept out of the room, and Mavis shot a malevolent glare at Peggy before scuttling after him.
Rachel softly touched Peggy’s arm as they headed for the door to the outer office. ‘You’re going to have to watch that one,’ she murmured. ‘I have a nasty feeling she’s trouble.’
‘You’d better believe it,’ Peggy muttered. ‘I don’t know what Solly was thinking of to take her on.’
‘He probably thought she’d improved since schooldays,’ Rachel replied with a sigh. They walked through Madge’s office after the others. ‘It seems his brother has pulled a fast one,’ Rachel continued. ‘I wouldn’t mind betting he’s delighted to be rid of her.’
The two women shared knowing looks before going down the stairs to join Solly, who was calling for silence on the shop floor and sending someone to fetch the people who were in the warehouse, canteen and storerooms.
As they waited for everyone to assemble, Peggy could almost feel the animosity radiating from Mavis, and was relieved to know that she had Rachel on her side. Solly might think he was in charge, but it was Rachel who steered the Goldman ship both here and at home, and if she wanted Mavis gone, then she would see it done.
Doris and John had gone to the canteen for a lunch of hearty soup, and then worked through the long afternoon, sharing the sad list of those who’d been killed and writing letters of condolence.
‘I feel very guilty about all this,’ John admitted at one point. ‘When I was in the army I knew every man under my command and could add a personal touch to my letters. Whereas, to my shame, I have no recollection of most of these women – they were just names on duty rosters.’
‘At least their shop-floor managers could give us a little insight into what they were like,’ said Doris, trying to read the scrawled handwriting on the notes that had been sent up to the office from the various factories.
‘Yes, that helps a little,’ he replied with a deep sigh. ‘But I still feel guilty that I didn’t make it my business to get to know them.’
‘I don’t see how you possibly could,’ said Doris, putting down her pen and easing her aching hand. ‘There are over a thousand women working on this estate at any one time. With changing shifts and all the comings and goings of personnel, it would be impossible.’
He nodded. ‘I know you’re right,’ he said, ‘but from now on I’ll make it my business to visit the factories more so I can put faces to names. I might not still be in the military, but this is a sort of army – an army of men and women who are doing their bit to win this war as much as any soldier – and it’s my duty to look after them.’
Doris felt a loving warmth sweep through her as she watched him begin another letter. His sense of duty and caring nature were just two of the many qualities that drew her to him.
She picked up her pen again, but sat there for a moment, her thoughts turning to Ted. He’d been kind too, and very generous throughout their marriage, especially when it had come to her divorce settlement and monthly maintenance payments. But there had been a side to him that no one outside their marriage had seen – a side she’d only witnessed after his death.
Ted Williams had been a popular man and half the town had turned out for the short memorial service that was held for him and his new wife, but the people of Cliffehaven had only known him as the cheerful manager of the Home and Colonial who was always ready for a chat and slipped them an extra ounce of cheese or a can of beans from under the counter – not the husband who’d cheated on her for years, secretly remortgaged her home to pay off his debts, and left her with nothing.
Doris still smarted from that final betrayal, and when that spike of fury threatened to unsettle her, she determinedly squashed it. She’d survived it all to find satisfying, well-paid work and happiness in her rented bungalow, and after last night, she had very high hopes of a bright future with John.
The nights were drawing in, and by four it was already dark. Doris finished the last letter, added a stamp and placed it on top of the others. Being Sunday there was no postal collection, but she’d put them in the box tonight for the early one tomorrow morning.
‘I hope we never have to do that awful task again,’ she sighed, collecting the pile of envelopes and slipping them into her handbag.
‘It’s never an easy job,’ agreed John, sitting back in his chair to stare down at the dimly lit factory estate. It was raining again, the wind strengthening to blow dead leaves and debris across the deserted walkways. ‘How about we have a cup of tea before we head for home? The rain may have stopped by then.’
Doris thought that was highly unlikely but didn’t argue. She didn’t fancy the walk home either, and a cup of tea would be welcome after licking all those stamps and envelopes. Minutes later they were sipping the tea, warmed by the two-bar electric fire and feeling cosy as the rain splattered against the window and hammered on the tin roof.
‘How’s your throat?’ John said. ‘I forgot to ask with all that’s been going on.’
‘It’s still a bit tender, but nothing I can’t deal with,’ she replied, smiling to reassure him – although in all the chaos, she’d barely noticed it.
‘Jolly good,’ he replied. ‘And you’ll be delighted to hear that you’ll never see Chumley again.’
‘That’s a comforting thought, John. But how can you be so sure?’
He leaned forward and took her hand. ‘Do you remember that I was called to that emergency committee meeting at the Officers’ Club yesterday afternoon?’
Doris’s smile was wan. ‘Was it only yesterday? It feels like a lifetime ago.’
‘Certainly a great deal has happened since,’ he agreed. ‘But that meeting was called because some serious discrepancies were found in the club’s bar records. Bottles of spirits and hundreds of cartons of cigarettes couldn’t be accounted for.’
Doris stiffened and gripped his hand as she thought about the upright Admiral Falkner who was in charge of ordering stock for the bar and undertook his responsibility with meticulous attention to detail. ‘Surely they don’t suspect Peter Falkner?’ she gasped.
‘Absolutely not,’ John said firmly, clearly shocked by the idea. ‘It was Peter who alerted the committee to the discrepancies. He’s only been in charge of stocking the club’s cellars for three months, and being an honest man, rather took it as read that the previous incumbent had kept proper records of purchases and sales.’
Doris didn’t interrupt. She had a fair idea where this was leading.
‘Admiral Falkner might be retired from the navy, but he’s a busy man with a great many other commitments, and when he finally had the time to sit down and go through the books, he began to suspect foul play. He said nothing to the committee until he’d had time to investigate. Having spoken to our suppliers and gone through the order sheets and invoices with them, the culprits were revealed and he immediately called that extraordinary meeting.’
John paused for breath. ‘I can see you’ve already guessed who was at the heart of it all, Doris, and to be honest, it was hardly a surprise to any of us.’
‘If that was the case, then why was he on the committee in the first place?’ Doris asked.
‘Chumley had been elected onto it some years ago because his title gave the club a certain kudos, and he was deemed upright and honest enough to be put in charge of ordering the bar stock.’ John grimaced. ‘It just goes to show how a title can blind perfectly sensible people into making bad judgements.’
‘Chumley and his wife fooled a lot of people,’ Doris murmured. ‘As I know to my cost.’
John stubbed out his cigarette rather forcibly before continuing his story. ‘Three months ago, the committee began hearing complaints about Chumley reneging on his debts. His club membership hadn’t been paid for almost a year, and his bar bills were adding up to a serious amount. He’d been given leeway because of his wife’s death, but it was felt he was now taking liberties, so we agreed that he should be voted off the committee, and relieved of his victualling duties. I must say I was glad to see the back of him, and I think most of the other committee members felt the same.’
‘So, he was up to his old tricks,’ murmured Doris.
‘Indeed he was, Doris. During his time on the committee he’d found someone at both wholesalers who wasn’t averse to making some money on the side. He’d put in an order for three cases of whisky, say, bill it to the club, and then sell one off and share a portion of the profit with the warehouseman to keep him sweet. The same with the cigarettes and tobacco. He had quite a business going until the Admiral took over.’
‘He’s not going to be allowed to get away with it, is he?’ gasped Doris.
‘Our chairman reported it to the police immediately, so I suspect he arrived home yesterday to find the police waiting there to arrest him.’
‘That’s marvellous news,’ she breathed. ‘And if James Harcourt can find evidence of him skimming the charity money, it should keep him in prison for many years to come.’
‘I telephoned James straight after the meeting, so he’s well aware of their decision and the reason behind it. He told me he’s got enough evidence of laundering the charity monies to take to the police now. So it really is over, Doris.’
Close to tears with relief, she grasped John’s hand. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly. ‘Without your help, Chumley would have got away with it.’
John smiled bashfully at her praise and then looked out of the window. ‘It’s stopped raining,’ he said. ‘Let me get you home before it starts again.’
They turned everything off and locked the door behind them to go arm in arm through the estate. The factories were humming with activity as the shifts changed and the canteen became busy, the lights spilling from the lightly dimmed-out windows across the wet concrete and oily puddles. The sense that nothing would stop the war effort despite the terrible losses that had been incurred made Doris feel very positive – and the thought that Chumley would get his just deserts was the icing on the cake.
Having put the letters in the box, they bent their heads to the wind and hurried on to Ladysmith Close. Doris opened her front door, eager to be in the warm and looking forward to another night of passion.
‘I haven’t even thought about supper,’ she said, shedding her coat. ‘But there is some stew left over which I could heat up.’
‘I won’t stay for supper, if you don’t mind, my dear,’ he said.
The disappointment was sharp. ‘Oh, but I thought …’
‘It’s been a long day, Doris, and neither of us got much sleep last night,’ he said, giving her a rather bashful smile.
‘Yes, of course, you’re right,’ she said quickly, although she didn’t feel at all tired – in fact, she hadn’t felt this alive in years. ‘It’s probably better we both get a good night’s sleep after … after …’
John took her hands and drew her close. ‘It was a wonderful night, Doris,’ he murmured, ‘and I will hold it in my heart forever, but …’
‘But?’ She pulled her hands from his grasp, her desire drenched by a cold wash of sudden doubt. ‘Was last night all you wanted from me?’
‘Not at all,’ he said urgently, grasping her arms. ‘I love you, Doris, and can think of nothing I want more than to be with you every night. But I’m not in a position to ask you to marry me, and it wouldn’t be fair to you, or your reputation, if we continued to sleep together without the respectability of a wedding ring.’
Doris’s heart missed a beat and then began to race – she hadn’t expected him to talk of marriage. ‘But we don’t have to make things formal between us,’ she said breathlessly. ‘We could carry on as we are and to heck with my reputation – which is probably already hanging by a thread after today.’
‘My dearest girl; if only we could,’ he said sadly. ‘Last night was wonderful – you are wonderful – but we acted in haste, Doris, without any thought for the consequences.’
Doris was beginning to wonder if he was trying to finish things between them but was too gentlemanly to say it outright. ‘I’m hardly likely to get into the family way,’ she said with a brittle little laugh, ‘so I don’t really understand what other consequences there could be.’
He seemed lost for words and she regarded him squarely. ‘Are you trying to tell me you regret last night?’
‘No, no, no. That’s not it at all,’ he replied, dragging his fingers through his thick silvery hair in agitation. ‘If I could, I’d get down on one knee right now and ask you to marry me. I love you and don’t want to lose you, but I have others to consider before I make such a commitment.’
Doris suddenly understood. ‘You’re worried about how your son would feel, aren’t you?’
‘That’s it exactly,’ he said, reaching once more for her hands. ‘Michael lost his mother shortly before he was taken prisoner, and although I write regularly to him, I’ve only ever received a few standard POW postcards from him. I don’t even know if he’s received those letters, and if he hasn’t, he’ll know nothing of my life since I retired from the army – and certainly nothing about you.’
Doris could see the conflict of love and loyalties in his eyes and her heart went out to him as he drew her closer.
He rested his chin lightly on her head. ‘Life in a POW camp must be fraught with danger and difficulty and for all I know he could still be grieving for his mother. I couldn’t bear the thought of him coming home at the end of the war to find that I’d married again. He’d think I’d forgotten her, you see. They were very close.’
‘I can understand that,’ Doris murmured. ‘There’s a special bond between mother and son, which I have with my Anthony.’ She didn’t add that the bond had been severely frazzled since Anthony had married Suzie. This was not the moment.
‘Would your son approve of you marrying again so soon?’
Doris almost smiled at the irony of the situation with her beloved son. ‘Ted and I were separated for a long time before the divorce, and he married again the same weekend he and his new wife were killed. My Anthony loved his father, but he has his own life now and I doubt he’d have any objections to me finding happiness again.’
‘And do you think you could be happy with me?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she breathed, her heart beating wildly at the idea of spending the rest of her life with him.
He kissed her passionately and then firmly drew back. ‘I know it’s asking a great deal of you, Doris, but we must be strong,’ he said, ‘and patient – and not allow our passions to rule us. Once this war is over and my boy is home, he’ll have the chance to get to know you – just as your son needs to get to know me. And then we can make things formal between us.’
Doris understood that he loved his son and was only trying to do the right thing, but she was a bit miffed at the idea of having to wait until the son approved – or otherwise. And what if he was against it? What were they supposed to do then? Just forget the whole thing and walk away? The thought twisted her heart.
‘But we can still share suppers and cosy evenings by the wireless?’ she asked hopefully.
‘Of course we can, Doris. We’ll go on as before last night. Nothing has changed between us, and it never will.’ He kissed her, gave her a hug and then opened the front door. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, and take you out to dinner at the club to celebrate Chumley’s downfall.’
Doris returned his cheery wave and closed the door. He’d said that nothing had changed, but it had. She’d experienced the sweetness of loving, passionate intimacy with a man she’d come to adore, and she wanted more. But the sense of honour and correctness that had so drawn her to him was now setting them apart. Did he really mean for her to live like a nun? Could they continue to share almost every moment of every day without succumbing to the needs that had been awoken in both of them?
She gave a sigh of frustration and headed into the kitchen. Only time would tell.