A month had passed since Stan’s heart attack, and Peggy was delighted that he seemed, at last, to be on the mend. The restrictions on the number of visitors had been lifted now he’d been transferred to Men’s Medical, so everyone at Beach View had managed to see for themselves how well he was doing.
Ethel was working part-time at the factory and helping Ruby keep the allotment in order when they weren’t sitting with Stan, while Ron and April had worked out a schedule to keep the trains running. Ron was rarely at home now, what with his trains, his Home Guard and fire-watch duties and the jobs Rosie needed doing at the Anchor, but Peggy was relieved that he was being kept fully occupied, for it meant there would be no more nonsense concerning Gloria Stevens.
As for April, she was blooming now that she and Ethel had reached an agreement to rub along together and make the best of things for Stan’s sake. The fresh air and sunshine, and the knowledge that she was doing her bit, had brought colour to her face and a sparkle to her eyes. Her pregnancy was now evident for all to see, but strangely enough there was very little condemnation of her situation by the local gossips, and Peggy put that down to her relationship with Stan and the willing way she’d mucked in during a crisis.
Peggy had written a long letter to Jim about all that had happened – though she hadn’t mentioned his father’s suspected dalliance with Gloria, and the fact that April’s baby would be brown, for what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt or worry him. Now she was waiting impatiently to hear back from him.
She continued packing the comfort boxes which were due to be sent out to the Allied troops in India, hoping that perhaps one that she’d packed might find its way to Jim. The odds were against that happening, but she packed each box with loving care just in case, and added a picture postcard of Cliffehaven wishing the recipient well.
Her thoughts turned to April again as one of the babies in the crèche began to wail. She’d gone with her to the adoption place yesterday to sign the second lot of papers, and although she’d put a brave face on things, Peggy knew she’d become attached to the little one growing inside her and would find it agonisingly hard to give it up. The girl was making a brave decision, but Peggy did agree that it was the right one. Miss Franklyn had managed to find a couple who were desperate for a baby, and as the prospective parents were of mixed race, the child would grow up with a clearer sense of its identity, and not be picked out as different amid all the white faces.
Peggy finished taping the box and glanced up at the clock. Her three hours of volunteering were up and it was now time to collect Daisy from the crèche. She would pop into the uniform factory on her way home to make sure Shirley was coming to tea with her mother the following day, and have a quiet word with Alf about the possibility of a bit of extra beef suet to make the potato pastry tastier on the Woolton pie she planned to cook tonight. This was one of the more successful recipes dreamt up by the rationing people and involved cooking vegetables in a pastry case – but the potato pastry turned a nasty grey when cooked, and it would be lovely to have a bit of fat mixed in for a change.
Ron hurried along the hospital corridor keeping a wary eye out for Matron, who was inclined to appear unexpectedly and put the wind up him. She’d never quite forgiven him for discharging himself and leaving on the back of Rita’s motorbike after he’d been injured at the start of the war, and so he did his best to avoid her.
He eased through the door into the ward and grinned at the little nurse sitting behind her desk. ‘How’s the patient today?’
‘Getting restless,’ she replied with a wry smile.
‘Aye, I know the feeling.’ He tipped his cap to her and strolled down the ward to Stan’s bed. ‘I hear you’re causing trouble,’ he said cheerfully as he plumped down in the chair. ‘You want to watch it, Stan, or you’ll have Matron after you, and to be sure that’s no fun at all.’
Stan looked rather gloomy as he fidgeted in the bed. ‘I only asked if I could go to the lav on my own,’ he replied. ‘You’d have thought I wanted to climb onto the roof.’
‘Aye, well they take things seriously in here, and you’ve got to be patient.’ He chuckled. ‘Get it? As a patient you have to be patient.’
Stan rolled his eyes. ‘Very funny. But I’m bored, Ron, and all this lazing about isn’t doing me a bit of good. I should be back at the station, starting my new life with Ethel.’
‘There’s no need to worry about the station. April and me are keeping it running as sweet as a nut, and Ethel pops in to keep an eye on us when she can. She and Ruby are looking after your allotment and making a grand job of it, so they are. And you can be assured that both April and Ethel are getting on like a house on fire.’
This was a bit of an exaggeration, for though things were better between them, there was still an element of frostiness on Ethel’s part. He leaned back in the chair and began to fill his pipe. ‘I must say, Stan, it’s money for old rope working at that station. What on earth do you do to keep yourself busy?’
‘There’s plenty to keep me out of mischief, never you mind,’ Stan said solemnly. ‘And talking of mischief, are you going to tell me what you were up to with Gloria Stevens?’
‘Well now, Stan, I would – but I’d have to shoot you.’
Stan’s eyes widened and then his face creased into a broad smile. ‘You had me going there for a minute. A fling with Gloria is hardly a shooting offence – unless it’s Rosie holding the gun, of course.’
‘Aye, you could be right there, old pal. There’s nothing more fearsome than a woman scorned.’ Ron had spoken lightly in the hope that Stan would drop the subject, and he continued to fill his pipe.
‘So? Are you going to tell me? Or will I go to my grave never knowing?’
‘You’re not at death’s door, Stan, so don’t pull that one,’ Ron said mildly. ‘Curiosity killed the cat, remember?’
‘Ah, yes, but satisfaction brought it back. I really don’t understand why you’re so reluctant to talk about it, Ron. In your position I’d have been bursting to share my good fortune at having two women after my body.’
It was clear that Stanley wasn’t going to give up on this, so now Ron had to decide whether he should tell his pal the truth, or spin him a line. He stuck the pipe in his mouth and spent a few more moments getting a good draw on it while he thought things through. The idea of lying to Stan didn’t sit easily, but the truth was complicated and, once revealed, could have serious and far-reaching consequences.
‘The thing between me and Gloria wasn’t what you thought,’ he said finally.
‘So it’s over then?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’
Stan remained silent, his gaze steady on his friend’s face. ‘It either is or isn’t,’ he said flatly.
Ron puffed on his pipe and then examined the burnt tobacco in the bowl. He and Stan had signed the Official Secrets Act during the last shout, and because they’d shared some highly dangerous and top secret missions behind enemy lines which they’d kept to themselves ever since, he knew Stan could be trusted.
‘Remember those papers we signed back in 1916? The oath we took then still holds.’
Stan regarded him evenly, his expression solemn. ‘I know that.’ He leaned forward, his voice barely above a whisper, ‘But what on earth has that to do with Gloria?’
‘Just promise to keep to that oath, Stan, or I’ll say nothing more.’
Stan frowned in puzzlement and then nodded. ‘I promise I won’t breathe a word.’
Ron gathered his thoughts and then rested his elbows on the bed so he could keep his voice below the general chatter on the ward. ‘I was contacted by someone in London a while ago. I can’t tell you who, but they were important enough for me to go to the barber’s and put on my best clothes for the meetings in Westminster.’
Stan’s eyes were wide with astonishment as Ron glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure no one else was listening before he continued. ‘The person I met asked me to keep tabs on a certain group who’d formed a private gentlemen’s club here in Cliffehaven and to keep special watch over their newest recruit.’
Stan was quick on the uptake. ‘Are we talking about Fifth Columnists?’ he muttered. At Ron’s nod he gasped. ‘What?’ he squeaked. ‘Here in Cliffehaven?’
‘Keep your voice down,’ Ron hissed, ‘or I’ll tell you no more.’
Stan looked warily round the ward and edged closer to Ron. ‘But I don’t understand where Gloria fits into all this.’
‘The men met twice a week in the function room at the Crown – which is situated directly below Gloria’s bedroom. The floorboards are loose enough to coax apart and the plaster’s thin enough to overhear everything they said.’
‘But surely, if she knew what they were she’d have refused to have them there?’
Ron grinned. ‘It turns out there’s rather more to our Gloria than we ever suspected. You see, she’s been working for the government ever since the war began and is ideally placed to hear and see things that might threaten the nation’s security. When she was approached by the leader of the group – someone who would never normally have darkened her door – her suspicions were aroused and she listened in to their first meeting. She immediately reported what she’d heard to her local contact, and was told to encourage them to continue meeting there so they could be monitored.’
‘Well I never,’ Stan breathed. ‘Who would have thought it?’
‘Things became difficult for her when her son was killed and her daughter-in-law and grandchildren moved in, so I was asked to take over recording the meetings until the little family could be found other accommodation.’
‘But surely, if the government knows about these men, they’d be arrested and executed as Nazi spies?’
‘Ah, well that’s the clever part, see, Stan. Now they know who they are they can infiltrate the group, stay one step ahead, and supply them with misinformation.’ He chuckled. ‘The latest wheeze was for our mole to suggest they have a discreet club badge or tiepin to make their association look as valid as any other, and they fell for it hook, line and sinker – which means the police can easily identify them when it comes to their being arrested. Which they will be eventually.’
‘Blimey, Ron,’ breathed Stan. ‘And here’s me thinking you were dallying with Gloria.’
‘It was a good cover, wasn’t it?’ He grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. ‘Gloria’s quite a woman.’
‘But you didn’t . . .?’
Ron shook his head. ‘She was willing and I have to say I was tempted, but I love Rosie too much to cheat on her.’
Stan rested back against the pillows as he absorbed all that he’d learned. Then he leaned forward again. ‘Who are the men involved?
‘I can’t tell you,’ Ron said firmly.
‘What about the mole?’
‘I can’t tell you that either.’
‘And do the men still meet at Gloria’s?’
Ron could just imagine Stan letting his curiosity get the better of him to the point where he couldn’t resist visiting the Crown in an attempt to nose out who the Fifth Columnists were. ‘They now meet at a private house further along the coast,’ he said truthfully. ‘I think they realised their regular meetings at the Crown would be noticed if they went on for too long, so they found somewhere out of the way and far more discreet.’
‘But how did these men find each other in the first place? That sort of warped thinking is hardly something to brag about.’
Ron shrugged. ‘Through old school ties, clubs, bars, who knows. We’re all drawn to like-minded people, and it only takes a word or a gesture to squirrel them out.’
Stan flopped back against the pillows and gave a low whistle. ‘Well, Ron, you’ve certainly livened up my afternoon and given me something to think about. I shall be looking at every man differently now I know what’s going on in our quiet little town. And as for Gloria . . . My goodness, I never would have guessed.’
‘It’s a dangerous game, Stan,’ he said. ‘And the oath we took all those years ago is as binding now as it was then, because lives are at stake as well as the security of our country. You have to forget everything I told you and carry on as normal.’
‘You can count on me, Ron. But the man who’s infiltrated the group is taking a terrible risk. They’ll kill him if they discover what he’s up to.’
‘Aye, but it’s a risk he’s more than willing to take.’ Ron put his cold pipe in his pocket as the bell went to announce the end of visiting time. ‘See you tomorrow, Stan.’
As Ron headed back to Beach View to collect Harvey for his late afternoon walk, his thoughts turned to Bertie Grantley-Adams. To the rest of the world, the dapper, mild-mannered and popular little man seemed content to spend his retirement playing golf and whist or driving Cordelia about. In reality he’d been one of England’s best undercover agents during the first war, and his work had saved countless lives.
Like Ron, Bertie had also been approached by MI5 to come out of retirement and infiltrate the cadre of Fifth Columnists in Cliffehaven, which he’d done willingly, for he was staunchly patriotic and still as brave as a lion despite his advanced years. In fact he’d spent almost three weeks living rough on the streets of London as he kept close watch on one of the leading members of the group – Jasper Cliffe – and no one suspected that his so-called attack of malaria was a ruse to cover for his absence. Bertie knew Ron was part of this vital mission, but like the consummate undercover men they were, neither acknowledged it – but Ron’s admiration for the man was unbounded.
April had taken to wearing dungarees beneath the railway uniform jacket, for they were more comfortable than anything else now she was so enormous. She ran her hand over her swollen stomach and eased her back, but the baby was restless today and she was suffering a bit from indigestion – which according to Shirley was a sure sign it would be born with lots of hair.
She smiled wistfully at this and then determinedly set about watering Stan’s tubs of flowers and vegetables which were thriving in the July sun that streamed down onto the platform. There were less than seven weeks to go before the birth, and she was dreading the moment she’d have to hand her baby over to strangers. And yet she did find small comfort in the knowledge that there were two people out there who longed for the gift of a child, and that regardless of how painful it would be for her, she could be assured that her baby would be treasured.
She blinked back her tears, then set the watering can down by the standpipe and opened the tin of Spam sandwiches Ethel had brought to the station earlier. Perching on the hard wooden bench, she gazed down the empty track as she ate and watched the butterflies flitting above the embankment.
Her relationship with Ethel was still a bit awkward, for words spoken in the heat of the moment couldn’t be taken back, and entrenched points of view couldn’t be changed overnight. However, there was a definite thawing between them, and although neither broached the subject of April’s pregnancy – that would have been a step too far for Ethel – there were the occasional small signs that Ethel’s attitude was shifting.
She’d arrive with a pint of milk she said she had no need for, or a couple of buns which she insisted would go stale if they weren’t eaten – and once, she’d even turned up with a pair of sandshoes for April’s swollen feet, saying she’d found them in the lost property at the factory and as no one had claimed them she thought April might as well have them. April had gratefully accepted these gruffly given tokens, realising it was Ethel’s way of trying to make amends without actually admitting she was warming to her.
The sound of hurrying footsteps drew April from her thoughts and she smiled with pleasure as Shirley came bustling towards her looking very pretty in a floral cotton dress and white sandals. ‘Hello. I didn’t expect to see you today. I thought you were working?’
Shirley smoothed back her hair and sat down. ‘I should have been, but something’s happened, and I needed to talk to you before you heard it elsewhere.’
April eyed her friend with some alarm. ‘It’s not James, is it?’
She shook her head. ‘He’s with Mum at the bed and breakfast. And you’ll never guess who arrived last night,’ she added, her eyes shining. Before April had a chance to speculate she blurted out, ‘My dad!’
April grinned in delight. ‘I can see by your face that his arrival wasn’t a disaster – but how did this change of heart come about?’
Shirley dipped into her white handbag, found her cigarettes and lit one. ‘Well,’ she said, settling in to her story with relish. ‘You know Mum came down two days ago to visit me because she thought he was up north on one of his factory inspections? What she didn’t know was that his inspection had been cancelled and so he thought he’d surprise her by joining her.’
She blew smoke and grinned. ‘But he had to hunt about her things to discover where she was staying, because she’d been deliberately vague about it – and that was when he found my letters and the photographs of James which I’d sent to her. She’d kept them in her needlework box along with her diary, and he only found them when he tripped over it and everything spilled out.’
‘Gosh, that was lucky.’
‘I don’t think Dad thought so at first,’ said Shirley. ‘He admitted he’d been shocked to discover the extent of Mum’s deceit, but as he’d sat there amid the spilled cottons and needles, his curiosity got the better of him and he began to look at the photographs and read my letters.’
She sighed happily. ‘I’m so glad he did, because it made him realise what he was missing – for not only had he lost a daughter and turned his wife against him through his pride, he was also in danger of losing his only grandchild.’
‘I bet you and your mother were shocked to see him,’ said April.
‘I’ll say. I thought he’d come down to read me the riot act and Mum got all flustered and started babbling, but he just wrapped his arms around us both without a word and we all started crying.’ She smiled at the memory. ‘That started James off, of course, and Dad took him and soothed him wonderfully, and before we knew it, we were a family again and making plans for the future.’
April looked at her sharply, guessing the reason behind her unexpected appearance today. ‘You’re going back home, aren’t you?’
Shirley nodded. ‘We’re leaving tomorrow morning, which is why I had to see you.’ She stubbed out her cigarette and took April’s hands. ‘You’ve been a wonderful friend, April, and I shall miss you. I’m sorry I won’t be here in September to help you through things, but I’ll be by your side in spirit and will never forget you.’
They hugged fiercely, both close to tears. ‘Promise you’ll keep in touch,’ pleaded Shirley as they finally drew apart and she slipped a piece of paper into April’s hand. ‘This is my address and telephone number, and if you’re ever down my way, you must come and visit.’
April doubted she’d ever see her again, for Shirley’s village was well off the beaten track, but she nodded anyway.
‘And please say goodbye to Peggy and apologise about our not going to tea with her tomorrow,’ Shirley continued. ‘She’s a marvellous, warm-hearted woman who wasn’t afraid to stand up to bullies like that old cow down at the kiosk, and I know she’ll take very good care of you.’
She squeezed April’s hand and reached for her bag. ‘Good luck, April. I hope Stan gets better soon and that Ethel comes to appreciate what a truly lovely person you are. Now I must go and pack.’
They hugged for the last time and then Shirley was walking swiftly over the bridge and down the High Street.
April stood and watched her until she was lost amongst the factory girls and Allied servicemen who thronged the pavement. Her best friend’s story had ended happily and she was truly delighted for her – and yet she felt a twinge of envy, for it was highly unlikely that she’d ever be welcomed back into her own mother’s life.
She turned away and headed for the signal box. The five o’clock train was due, and after that Ron would take over until the last one at ten.
April dealt with the train and the questions about Stan from all the regular passengers, but her mind wasn’t fully focused on the train driver’s teasing or the usual chit-chat from the stoker, for her conversation with Shirley had stirred mixed emotions within her and she was finding it hard to contain them.
She watched the train leave the station and stood on the platform deep in thought. Mildred’s coldness towards her had never been explained or even discussed apart from a few vague comments that Stan had let slip. The need to know and understand the woman who’d all but abandoned her was suddenly more important than ever, and she decided then and there that she would visit Stan tonight and coax the truth out of him.
Peggy had just put the Woolton pie in the oven when, to her surprise, April came into the kitchen. ‘Hello, dear. I thought you’d be visiting Stan tonight?’
‘I was going to, but Chalky, Alf and Fred were there, so I just checked he didn’t need anything and left him to it.’ She shed the uniform jacket and cap and hung them on the back of the door alongside her gas-mask box. ‘And I’ve got some news about Shirley,’ she said, reaching for the teapot.
Peggy was delighted to hear of Shirley’s happy news. ‘Well, that certainly clears up a mystery,’ she said with a smile. ‘I went to the factory on my way home and was told she’d given in her notice. I shall miss having her and the baby around, but she’s much better off being with her own family again.’
She sat down and sipped her tea. ‘But you’ll miss her more, I suspect. Shirley was a good friend, wasn’t she?’
‘I certainly will, but as you say, she’s back where she really belongs.’
Peggy caught the wistfulness in April’s face and took her hand. ‘There’s still a chance your mother might relent,’ she said softly.
‘I doubt she will, and even if she does, I don’t know how I’ll feel about it. There have been too many years of coldness between us, and after this . . .’ She ran her hand over her bump and then sighed. ‘I thought I’d ask Uncle Stan to help me understand why she’s been like she is. He’s hinted that she’d had problems of some sort when I was small, but then clammed up.’
‘Perhaps it’s better not to pry,’ said Peggy thoughtfully. ‘It might just make things worse for you.’
‘I don’t see how,’ April retorted. ‘She’s virtually ignored me for most of my life, hasn’t bothered to write or telephone, and certainly hasn’t put herself out to come and see Stan.’ She gave a wry smile. ‘That makes me sound bitter, doesn’t it? And yet, despite everything, I just need her to love me.’
Peggy’s heart lurched and she rushed to hug the girl to her. ‘Oh, my dear, I so wish things were different for you,’ she murmured. ‘If you were my little girl I’d move heaven and earth to ensure you knew you were loved.’
‘I know,’ April replied tremulously. ‘And I love you for that, Peggy, really I do.’
They embraced in silence for a moment until they had their emotions and their tears under control, and then Peggy returned to her chair. She sipped her tea and lit a cigarette, but her hand was still unsteady, and she could see that April was trying her best to put a brave face on things.
‘Did you know my mother?’ April asked finally.
‘Not really. We were at junior school together, but then she got a scholarship to a posh school in Eastbourne, and was rarely seen at home after that.’ Peggy sighed. ‘I know from Stan that she went on to university to take a degree in law because he was immensely proud of her and told everyone.’
April stared at her in shock. ‘Mother studied law?’
Peggy frowned. ‘You didn’t know? But surely she must have said something? After all, that’s where she met your father.’ She realised the girl was stunned by this news, and was immediately contrite. ‘I’m sorry, April. I wouldn’t have said anything if I’d known how it would affect you.’
April shook her head. ‘I’m glad you did. But what I can’t understand is why she didn’t continue to practise after I was born. For an ambitious woman to give up on something like that is incomprehensible.’
‘Well, I don’t know, dear,’ said Peggy. She’d said enough and had no wish to add anything more in the light of the girl’s shock. ‘That’s something only your mother can tell you.’
‘Uncle Stan might know. Perhaps that’s what they fell out about all those years ago. Though I can’t see why.’ April fiddled with the teaspoon, then let it rattle into the saucer. ‘I wish I’d asked more questions when Daddy was alive,’ she said on a sigh.
‘It’s a regret we all have,’ replied Peggy. ‘I wish I’d talked more to my parents about their lives, and the family history. But I was too busy with my own life to take much notice of their reminiscences, and now they’re gone, it’s too late, and all I have are old faded photographs.’
She pushed back from the table and checked on the pie. The suet Alf had supplied had turned the potato pastry to a golden flaky topping, and just looking at it made her mouth water. She transferred it to the smaller oven where it would keep warm but not overcook and then turned back to April.
‘I understand your need to know more about what makes your mother the way she is, but do try not to badger Stan about it, dear. He isn’t as strong as before, and I’m sure none of us want him to suffer any undue stress.’
‘Of course not, Peggy. I’ll just ask him a few questions and see how willing he is to talk about her. If there’s the slightest sign that he’s getting upset, then I’ll leave it.’
Peggy gave an inward sigh of relief, for what she’d heard about Mildred from Stan over the years wasn’t edifying, and she was almost certain that he would find talking about her to April extremely difficult. Especially as April was so vulnerable still and only weeks away from giving birth.