Ron was used to ducking and diving and keeping his business to himself, but things had escalated to the point where he was beginning to find life very awkward indeed. Rosie was being unusually demanding of late, expecting him to help in the bar over the Easter weekend, and it had been the devil’s own job to persuade her that he had other commitments which he couldn’t possibly ignore. It helped being part of the Home Guard, of course, for there were always practice manoeuvres and arms training to attend, and nights away were easily explained. But how to get out of afternoon tea with Rosie without making her suspicious – that was the rub, and although he hated lying to her, it was a necessary evil he couldn’t avoid.
He stomped out of the scullery that morning with Harvey racing on ahead of him and began to tramp up the narrow alleyway towards the hills. Peggy was still giving him funny looks because he’d refused to tell her where he disappeared to several nights a month, but as he was on special duty at the highly secret arms and supply dump hidden deep underground within the hills, he’d had to say it was just night training, or fire-watch duty.
And then there was Gloria – lovely Gloria, whose presence in his already hectic routine had turned everything upside down. All in all, he wasn’t too happy at the moment, for the women in his life were causing him all sorts of trouble, and there seemed to be no way out of it.
Harvey had shot off to investigate something in a clump of gorse, and he was about to follow him when he heard a soft mewl behind him. Turning, he saw Queenie streaking up the hill behind him.
‘Go back home,’ he said sternly.
Queenie ignored him and Harvey dashed back to see what all the fuss was about. He sniffed the cat and gave it a lick, then barked and ran in excited circles. Queenie sat down and eyed him imperiously for a moment and then carried on tiptoeing through the grass towards Ron.
‘Ach, ye fool animal. Go back, Queenie. This is no place for a wee cat.’
Queenie shot past him and scampered about in pursuit of Harvey, who seemed to think the whole thing was terrific fun.
Ron could only see her tail above the grass as she darted about, chasing a fly, and he gave a great sigh of exasperation. ‘Now what?’ he muttered. He decided not to take the cat back to Beach View – it would cost too much time – something of which he had little to spare. He would just keep an eye on her, and next time he’d make sure she was shut indoors when he came for his walks. Peggy would have his guts for garters if Queenie got lost or injured. It seemed that his life was plagued by strong-willed females who took not a jot of notice of anything he might say.
He kept an eye on Queenie, who bounced about after Harvey rather like Tigger from the children’s books. He noted that Harvey was constantly running back to check on her, and he fervently hoped that nothing would frighten her and send her into hiding – which would mean having to spend hours looking for her. He checked his watch. He was due at the Crown in just over an hour, so he’d have to keep the walk short.
Lighting his pipe, he strolled through the long grass and admired the scenery. It was the first day of May, and although there was still a mist shrouding Cliffehaven, it promised to be a lovely day. His mood lightened as the fresh air restored him. The news on the wireless was all good, with the Axis forces all but defeated in North Africa and the Americans ousting the Japs from vast areas of the Pacific. His son Jim seemed to be relatively safe and distanced from any fighting in India, as was his elder son, Frank, who was serving out his call-up as a storeman on a military base in the Midlands. Frank would soon be of an age when he was no longer eligible for the services, but Ron suspected he’d continue to do his bit after being demobbed by joining the Home Guard.
He continued walking, his thoughts turning to Gloria and the Crown. He’d have to be extra careful today, for Rosie had arranged for her barmaids to take over this lunchtime and was meeting Peggy and Cordelia in town to treat themselves to a meal at the new British Restaurant which had just opened up in one of the abandoned shops in the High Street.
Such restaurants had sprung up all over England, and as they offered three courses of non-rationed food for the princely sum of ninepence, they were excellent value and therefore very popular. Ron wouldn’t have minded trying it out for himself, but as it was, he’d have to make do with whatever was left over from the meeting in Gloria’s function room. Not that this was any hardship, for Gloria always laid on a good spread.
He checked his watch again and whistled to Harvey, who came galloping towards him, tongue lolling, ears flapping, with Queenie bouncing along some way behind him.
Ron shook his head. He’d thought he’d seen it all – but a cat coming for a walk and answering to a whistle? He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it. He patted the dog and shooed him in the direction of home and then waited for Queenie to catch up.
‘To be sure, you wee scamp, those three legs are doing a grand job, so they are,’ he said, reaching down to scoop up a panting Queenie. Her little heart was thudding and her fur was soaked with dew from the grass. ‘But I’m thinking they could do with a bit of a rest now.’
Queenie purred as he gently placed her in one of the deep pockets of his poacher’s coat and headed for home.
As he shut the back gate behind him, Peggy came running out of scullery. ‘I’ve lost Queenie,’ she said, on the verge of tears. ‘I’ve looked everywhere and called and called, but there’s no sign of her.’
Ron grinned, carefully lifted the purring bundle from his pocket and placed her in Peggy’s arms. ‘She came for a walk with me and Harvey,’ he said. ‘But there’s no harm done.’
Peggy’s eyes widened in astonishment. ‘A walk? You took the cat for a walk?’
‘Ach, to be sure, it was her idea, not mine,’ he said defensively. ‘I was halfway to Tamarisk Bay before I realised she was following us.’ He beamed with pride. ‘But she came when I whistled, which is more than Harvey ever does.’
Peggy rubbed her face against the soft, rather damp black fur. ‘Thank goodness you didn’t lose her,’ she breathed. ‘I couldn’t bear it if something happened to her.’
She looked back at Ron and caught him surreptitiously checking his watch. ‘Don’t tell me you’re off somewhere yet again, Ron, because I’ve got a list of things that need doing today.’
Ron started backing towards the gate in preparation for a quick getaway. ‘Sorry, Peggy, girl, but I’m needed elsewhere all afternoon. You enjoy your lunch.’ He slammed the gate behind him and shot off with Harvey in close pursuit before she could question him any further.
I’m getting too old for these shenanigans, he thought as he made his way through the back streets that would eventually lead to the yard behind the Crown. But there was an undeniable spring in his step as he turned the final corner and saw Gloria waiting for him by the back door. He might be getting on a bit – some might even say he was past it – but as long as there was fire in his belly he wouldn’t give up on living life to the full.
‘I don’t know what you’re up to, Ronan Reilly,’ Peggy muttered. ‘But I’ll find out. You see if I don’t.’ She carried Queenie indoors and dried and fed her before turning her attention to Cordelia, who was looking very smart in a navy dress and jacket and a white straw hat.
‘Are you going to be warm enough in that?’
Cordelia frowned. ‘Of course it’s not corn in my hat. Really, Peggy, you should go and have your eyes tested.’
‘I was just asking if you would be warm enough in that dress and coat,’ she repeated rather more loudly. ‘It’s a bit chilly out still.’
‘We’re going in a boat? You’re right,’ Cordelia said with a sniff. ‘Of course that would be silly.’
‘Cordelia, dear, do turn up your hearing aid,’ Peggy said.
She fiddled with it. ‘It is up, and there’s no need to shout, Peggy. I’m not that deaf, you know.’
‘Not that you’d notice,’ muttered Peggy. ‘I’m going up to see to the spare room,’ she said clearly. ‘The new girl will be arriving this afternoon and I want the poor little thing to feel comfortable and welcome.’
Cordelia was still fiddling with her hearing aid; making it screech quite horribly until she was satisfied she could hear properly. ‘It comes to something when a girl in the family way has to live with strangers,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t she have any parents or in-laws who could have taken her in?’
‘I did ask when she telephoned.’ Peggy collected up the basket of cleaning materials from beneath the sink. ‘But she just said there was no one, and when she had to leave her present place a friend of a friend suggested she rang me.’
‘Poor little mite,’ muttered Cordelia. ‘I wonder why she had to leave where she is?’
Peggy shrugged. ‘I don’t know, but she’s obviously desperate for somewhere to stay, and that’s all that concerns me. She even offered me extra money, poor lamb. But she’ll find a safe haven here, never you mind.’
‘None safer than with you, Peggy,’ said Cordelia fondly. ’She’s a lucky girl to have been given your number.’
Peggy chewed her lip. ‘I wonder who gave it to her? I don’t know anyone in Tunbridge Wells and I’ve certainly never been there.’ She shrugged off this minor niggle and checked on Daisy, who’d fallen asleep in her playpen, then hurried upstairs.
The single room was on the first floor, just along from Cordelia’s double, the bathroom and lavatory. As the girl was pregnant it seemed sensible to have her close to the facilities as Peggy remembered what it was like when she’d been expecting Daisy – running to the lav every five minutes, she’d been.
She had put fresh linen on the bed the night before, and now she cleaned the windows, dusted the furniture and gave the bare floorboards a good wipe-over with a damp cloth, her thoughts troubled. April Wilton had sounded like an educated sort of girl on the telephone and clearly not short of a bob or two if she was offering to pay extra to live here, so why couldn’t she have stayed where she was? She’d definitely been holding something back during their rather short telephone conversation, but not wanting to probe too deeply, Peggy had accepted that she had nowhere permanent to live, the baby’s father was serving abroad and she didn’t seem to have anyone to care for her. No doubt she’d find out the whole story once the girl had settled in.
Checking again that her sister Doreen hadn’t left anything in the drawers or wardrobe, Peggy made sure there were plenty of hangers and that fresh paper lined the drawers. Tweaking the bedspread straight, she plumped the pillows so they looked inviting and then, after one final check, closed the door. April was due to arrive on the four o’clock train, and Peggy was aiming to be there to meet her. She just hoped it wouldn’t be delayed as so many trains were these days, for it would put her evening routine right out of kilter.
She quickly checked the bathroom, pleased to see that the girls had cleaned the bath and run a mop over the floor, and not left wet towels everywhere like Ron was in the habit of doing. She then went into the large double room shared by Ivy and Rita, took one look at the chaos of clothes strewn everywhere, the unmade beds and the clutter on every flat surface, and shut the door. It was what she’d expected really, but she’d have to have a word with them, for as cheeky and lovable as they were, she didn’t approve of them living in such a pigsty.
She went downstairs and into her bedroom off the hall to get changed into something a bit more respectable. Peeling off her wrap-round pinafore and the cotton dress she always wore to do her housework in, she took off her headscarf and tidied her hair. She was looking forward to her lunch out, for it was a rare treat and she’d heard that the food in these British Restaurants was very good as well as being cheap.
She pulled on a tweed skirt and pale lavender-coloured sweater and cardigan, all of which were hand-me-downs from her older sister Doris. They’d hardly been worn, but Doris changed her wardrobe so often there weren’t enough days in the year for her to wear everything more than a couple of times, and Peggy was grateful to have her discarded clothes and shoes. She pushed her feet into her second-best pair of shoes – they were marginally more comfortable to walk in than her best ones – and then clipped on her earrings and put on her blue felt hat. It was a bit shabby, but it didn’t matter – most things were shabby now, what with making do and mending, the rationing and the paltry amount of clothing coupons to be had.
Daisy was waking up and demanding a drink and something to eat, so Peggy got her out of the playpen and handed her a rusk to keep her occupied while she watered down some of the orange juice the government provided each week for small children. Once Daisy’s demands had been met, Peggy put on her little hat and coat and buckled her shoes. She would soon need some new ones, she noticed, so there would have to be another trip to Clarks to get her properly fitted now she was on the point of really finding her feet.
Peggy carried Daisy on her hip as she helped Cordelia navigate the cellar steps, and once Daisy was strapped into the pram, she shut the back door and they set off. The pace was deliberately slow for Cordelia’s sake, but with the warm weather arriving, it seemed her old joints were easing up and she was quite sprightly today.
Rosie was just emerging from the Anchor as they approached, looking as glamorous as ever in a short navy blue skirt, white blouse and lightweight three-quarter length coat, her feet shod in two-tone navy and white high-heeled shoes. Her hair had been freshly washed and set beneath the rather fetching hat, and her blue eyes sparkled with fun.
‘Hello, darlings,’ she said warmly as she kissed them both and made a huge fuss of Daisy. ‘What a lovely day – perfect for lunch out with friends.’ She chuckled. ‘I feel as if I’m playing truant by taking the day off.’
‘You deserve it, Rosie,’ said Peggy. ‘You work far too hard and it’s time you had a bit of fun.’
They ambled along the pavement, chattering about the war news, the weather and the latest scandal that was doing the rounds, and then stopped to say hello to Rita, who was hosing down one of the fire engines. They continued in this fashion as they slowly wandered up the High Street, stopping now and again to discuss the very uninteresting shop windows and the ugliness of the utility clothing that was the only available thing to buy.
‘I know we’re supposed to feel patriotic by wearing those awfully dull things,’ sighed Rosie. ‘But you’d have thought a bit of colour wouldn’t go amiss. After all, grey, brown and black are hardly uplifting, are they?’
Peggy agreed rather distractedly and let Cordelia continue the discussion as she watched Ron emerge from one of the council offices, deep in conversation with a man she didn’t recognise. Whatever the topic was, it looked very serious, and as the conversation came to an end, they shook hands and went their separate ways; Ron ducking into a side alley with Harvey at his heels, and the other man coming down the hill towards them.
‘Are you all right, Peggy?’ Rosie frowned with concern.
Peggy quickly gathered her wits. ‘Just daydreaming of pretty clothes and proper stockings,’ she said, still darting glances at the man approaching them and hoping to goodness that Ron wouldn’t suddenly emerge into the High Street again and thereby cause trouble between him and Rosie.
The stranger was tall and she guessed about forty or so, with a sturdy figure and a rather fine handlebar moustache. Dressed in a good suit, with polished shoes and a smart black bowler hat, he carried a briefcase and tightly furled black umbrella, and looked as if he’d just stepped out from a tailor’s shop window in London.
‘I say, no wonder you’re distracted,’ whispered Rosie as the man raised his hat to them and smiled before going on down the hill. ‘He’s rather attractive, don’t you think? I wonder who he is?’
‘I have no idea,’ Peggy replied thoughtfully as all three of them turned to watch his progress. ‘But he’s not local, that’s for sure.’
‘He’s a dish,’ sighed Rosie.
‘You should both remember you have men of your own,’ said Cordelia briskly, ‘and not behave like silly girls.’
Peggy and Rosie exchanged glances and stifled their giggles. ‘It doesn’t hurt to admire a good-looking man,’ said Rosie. ‘After all, Cordelia, you were watching him too, and I saw that glint in your eye as he passed.’
Cordelia gave a sniff. ‘If you ask me, he’s far too attractive for his own good – and what’s a man like that doing here in the first place? I bet he’s up to some sort of mischief.’
‘It is unusual to see a man of his age out of uniform,’ mused Rosie. She grinned impishly at Peggy. ‘Perhaps Cordelia’s right and he’s a spy from MI5, or one of those Fifth Columnists the newspapers have been banging on about.’
Peggy laughed. ‘Cliffehaven is hardly a hotbed of spies and Nazi sympathisers. He’s probably just dressed up to meet some lucky lady for lunch.’ She gave a sigh of longing for the days when Jim had taken her out, and then perked up again. ‘Talking of lunch,’ she said. ‘It’s time we had ours. I’m starving.’