As the Sun Breaks Through

Despite the dairy having been flattened, the morning milk deliveries continued, only this time when the Shire horses arrived with the churns, the housewives came out to collect their milk ration in jugs or pans because there were no surviving bottles after the blast. Like the daily newspaper which arrived on the early train, these much loved and highly prized English traditions were what kept people going, and they were determined not to lose them.

It was now Thursday afternoon and Workers’ Playtime was blaring out from the wireless as the sewing machines hummed and the women gossiped. Peggy had left Beach View that morning happy to see that Danuta had cast off her bandages and was now wearing light cotton gloves and socks to hide her lack of nails, and was also walking without her stick.

It was lovely to see how well she’d fitted in with the others, and how she was rapidly improving by the day – which Peggy put down to her feeling at home and safe at last. Fran had cut her hair very close so it looked thicker and it now framed her little face and enhanced her strong features. It wouldn’t be long, Peggy was sure, before she plucked up the courage to taste life outside Beach View – but for now she seemed content to help around the house and keep Cordelia company.

Peggy pulled her attention back to her work. She was teaching one of the new machinists how to keep the material from bunching beneath the needle, and it was slow going, for Mrs James really had no idea of how to cope with the commercial sewing machine – but as Peggy had once been in her position, she understood that only patience would save the day.

Her gaze drifted over the many women who were hard at work, then her eyes were drawn by a movement on the staircase that led to the large office and the window that gave a panoramic view of the entire factory floor. Her mouth dried and her heart missed a beat as she saw a grim-faced Sergeant Williams making his way into Solly Goldman’s office.

‘Oh, lawks,’ sighed the middle-aged housewife next to her. ‘I’m never going to get the hang of this.’

Peggy was unable to tear her eyes from the two men behind that large window. ‘Cut the thread and start again,’ she murmured, watching Solly read something Bert had given him, before he glanced down at the factory floor, his expressive face haggard with grief.

Her pulse was racing, the dread growing by the second as Solly rubbed a hand over his eyes. She’d witnessed this scene before and knew that Bert Williams had brought bad news for someone – but who was it for this time? ‘Not Jim,’ she murmured. ‘Please, God, don’t let it be Jim.’

The woman next to her abruptly stopped sewing and followed her gaze and soon a deathly silence fell throughout the factory as a grim-faced Solly made his way down the stairs. They all knew what this meant, and they held a collective breath as he walked purposefully through the long lines of sewing machines towards the cutting tables at the far end.

Peggy shot a glance at Gracie, who was standing by her cutting table, her face drained of colour, her eyes wide with fear as Solly maintained eye contact with her and continued to walk towards her.

Peggy shoved back her chair and rushed to Gracie’s side as he came to a halt. She grasped her hand, but Gracie was transfixed and unaware of everything but her employer’s mournful face.

‘Gracie, my dear,’ he said, ‘your husband is alive, but he has been injured and is in hospital.’

Peggy saw Gracie was on the point of collapse and quickly put her arm about her waist to help her to a nearby chair. ‘Which hospital?’ she asked.

Solly placed a plump hand on Gracie’s shoulder. ‘He’s in Dover,’ he said quietly as the machines started up again all around them, the easing of tension becoming almost tangible in the sighs and whispers of the other women. ‘Come, Gracie. We’ll discuss it further in the canteen where it is quiet.’ He shot a helpless look at Peggy who nodded back, understanding he needed her to keep Gracie company.

Solly helped Gracie to her feet and she walked unsteadily between them, blank-eyed and clearly still in shock. Peggy fetched cups of tea whilst Solly settled her in a chair, and then lit them both a cigarette.

‘The bones will heal in time,’ said Solly carefully, ‘but his other injuries will take a bit longer.’

Gracie’s eyes widened as tears began to roll down her white face. ‘Other injuries?’ She clapped a trembling hand over her mouth as awful realisation hit. ‘Oh, no, no, not my Clive. Please tell me he hasn’t been burned.’

Before Solly could reply Peggy and Gracie saw the truth in his eyes, and Gracie collapsed against Peggy in a storm of tears.

Peggy held her tightly and regarded Solly over Gracie’s head, seeing the helplessness and sorrow in his slumped shoulders. She raised a questioning eyebrow and as their eyes met and he shook his head she understood that Clive’s burns were serious.

‘I must go and see him,’ said Gracie, suddenly pulling from Peggy’s embrace and digging about in her overall pocket for a handkerchief. ‘Which hospital in Dover is he in?’

‘At the Royal Victoria,’ said Solly, ‘but I doubt they’ll let you visit yet as he’s only just been admitted.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ she snapped. ‘He’s my husband. Of course I must go to him.’

‘Oy, vay, Gracie,’ he sighed. ‘Your husband is heavily sedated and will not know you are there.’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ she replied. ‘I don’t want him coming round and thinking I’ve abandoned him. The poor darling will be so confused and frightened. He’ll need me there.’

Solly took a deep breath. ‘I understand, Gracie, really I do – but you will have to be brave, my dear. He’s a very sick man.’

‘Just how badly burned is he?’ she asked, tears once again trembling on her eyelashes as she stubbed out the barely smoked cigarette.

As he took her hands, Peggy could tell that he was choosing his words carefully, and it made her stomach churn.

‘The doctors can do the most marvellous things with skin grafts these days, so don’t lose heart.’

‘It was his biggest fear,’ Gracie whispered. ‘Mine too. So many of his friends …’ She dashed away the tears and made a concerted effort to keep her emotions under control. With a nod at Solly, she withdrew her hands from his grasp and turned to Peggy. ‘I have to go to him, Peggy,’ she managed, ‘but a hospital is no place for a child, and I have no idea of how long I’ll be away. Would you look after Chloe for me?’

‘Of course I will,’ Peggy said immediately. ‘But I don’t like the thought of you facing this alone, Gracie. Is there someone who could go with you?’

Gracie shook her head. ‘Clive’s parents are in the Hebrides and since his father has been confined to a wheelchair, they don’t travel. Mother’s closer, but even if she did come, I don’t think I could cope with her getting upset – she’s very emotional already because of Father and my brothers being away, and it will be hard enough without having to deal with her as well as everything else.’

‘Oh, Gracie,’ sighed Peggy. ‘I wish I could do more to help you through this.’

Gracie hugged her. ‘You’re doing enough by caring for Chloe,’ she replied.

Peggy’s heart ached for her friend, knowing how very hard it would be for her to come to terms with what had happened to Clive.

Gracie mopped her tears with a handkerchief and then turned to Solly. ‘How do I get a travel warrant? Will the RAF provide one, or do I have to apply?’

‘Bert and I will see to that,’ he soothed. ‘You go home now and I’ll send my Rachel over when I’ve got things sorted. She’ll help you get organised and drive you to the station.’ His smile was wan. ‘It may take a while to cut through the red tape, so try to be patient, my dear.’

Gracie was icily calm as she got to her feet. ‘Thank you, Mr Goldman. I know how hard it must be for you to pass on such news, and I do appreciate what you and Rachel do for us all.’ She gave Peggy a hug. ‘I’ll ring you when I know more.’

Gracie smiled through her tears. ‘I need to be alone with Chloe for now so I can take all this in and prepare myself for whatever I find in Dover.’ Her voice broke. ‘But thanks, Peggy. Thanks for being such a good friend.’

Peggy watched as she hurried off, weaving through the lines of machines, her focus on collecting Chloe from the crèche and all the things she’d have to do before she left for Dover. Peggy was reminded of how Doris had been after hearing the news about Ted, and realised that Gracie was going through the motions without realising she was in deepest shock.

‘I really don’t like the thought of her being alone,’ she murmured, ‘but I suppose she needs time to absorb it all and gather her strength to face what lies ahead.’ She gave a tremulous sigh before meeting Solly’s gaze. ‘How bad is he really?’ she asked.

Solly dug his hands in his trouser pockets and surveyed the women working on the factory floor. ‘Bert spoke to the matron at the Victoria, and although she couldn’t tell him much, she did say that once his broken bones are healed he’d be a perfect candidate to be transferred to East Grinstead.’ He gave a deep sigh. ‘Which sadly means the burns must be extensive. But Archibald McIndoe is working miracles on men like Clive – virtually rebuilding their faces, so I’ve heard. She’ll have to be very brave, Peggy – and so will he. I’ve seen what’s happened to other pilots.’

Peggy felt quite ill at the thought of poor Gracie having to confront what this war had done to her Clive, and could only pray that their marriage was strong enough to withstand the undoubted trauma of the coming months. She’d heard what had happened to other couples in the same situation – and not all of them had weathered the life-changing storm.

She stubbed out her cigarette and gathered up the barely touched cups of tea, still very upset for Gracie. ‘I’d better get back to work,’ she said. ‘Mrs James is all fingers and thumbs and if I don’t keep an eye on her she’ll do herself a damage with that needle.’

She eyed him sharply. ‘Shouldn’t you be sorting out Gracie’s travel permit?’

‘I’ve already got Sergeant Williams on the case. She should have it by tonight.’

Peggy realised he needed to talk to alleviate the tension of the past few minutes, so rather reluctantly sat back down. ‘So what’s on your mind, Solly?’

‘This war is coming to an end,’ he said, settling back into one of the unyielding metal chairs. ‘Once Paris falls, the rest of Europe will follow and Hitler will be defeated – and once that happens, the Japanese will surrender.’ He pulled a fat cigar from his breast pocket and took his time to light it. ‘There will still be a need for uniforms, but in far fewer numbers, so I have begun to think about what people might want in the future.’

Peggy stared at him, confused by this change of subject whilst her mind was still struggling with Gracie’s dilemma. She had known Solly since her schooldays, and even then he’d had a keen eye on business opportunities, and was selling good second-hand clothes from a market stall by the time he was fifteen. ‘And what do you think that might be?’ she asked.

Peggy made a determined effort to concentrate. ‘It’s going to depend on whether we still have rationing,’ she said a moment later. ‘But like most women I’m sick of making do and mending and only having those drab utility clothes to buy, so brightly coloured, cheap and pretty dresses would be high on my list.’

She glanced out of the window to the busy factory floor. ‘But most of these machinists will leave when their husbands come home, and where would you get the material?’

He tapped the side of his large nose. ‘The women have become used to earning their own money, and I’ll wager a good number of them will stay on even when their husbands come home – and men are just as good on the machines and cutting tables – they’ll want their jobs back, you’ll see.’

He blew smoke and regarded her with a twinkle in his eye. ‘As for the material, I have a warehouse full of it, set aside when I took on the government contract for uniforms.’

‘The first rule of business is to always have a plan B,’ he said with a wink. ‘I’ll continue supplying the uniforms, but at the same time get the dressmaking business up and running again.’ He grinned through the cigar smoke. ‘And I’ll need someone I can trust to be my eyes and ears on the shop floor and to take charge of the machinists.’

She stared at him in disbelief as his meaning sank in. ‘But I can’t do that,’ she protested. ‘I’ve only been working here a matter of months and there are others far better qualified.’

‘My niece is planning to get married and move back to London by Christmas, and I consider you to be the best person to replace her,’ said Solly. He held up his hand to silence her protest. ‘You’ve already shown you’re perfectly capable of getting the best out of the women. You have a way with people, and they are drawn to you, willing to do their best for you, Peggy. I can think of no one better.’

Peggy couldn’t deny that she was tempted, but there were many obstacles to be negotiated before she could take his offer seriously. ‘I’m flattered you think so highly of me, Solly, but this job was only temporary whilst the war was on and I needed the money.’

She took a breath and met his gaze squarely. ‘When Jim and the rest of the family come home I’ll be too busy to hold down a job – particularly a managerial one that will entail more responsibility. And besides, Jim has been away for so long, he might resent me working.’

‘I think six guineas a week will ease his resentment,’ said Solly, watching her carefully.

‘That’s just to start with. There will be a yearly increase and a bonus when sales pick up.’

Solly seized the moment to press his case. ‘If I know Jim, he’ll soon get restless and find himself work of some sort or another and you’ll be left to rattle about in that house with just Cordelia, Daisy and maybe Danuta for company. Your chicks will fly the nest; Anne and her girls will be with Martin in their own home; Cissy will probably settle down somewhere with her Yank, and your two boys are of an age when they no longer need or want to be tied to your apron strings.’

He eyed her affectionately as she stared dumbly back at him. ‘I don’t mean to be harsh, Peggy, but you’re intelligent enough to know things will be very different once the war is over. Just give my offer some serious consideration, my dear. It will be a while before I have everything organised, so there’s no rush.’

Peggy nodded, and in a daze returned to her sewing machine. Six guineas a week plus a bonus was more than she’d made running Beach View as a boarding house before the war. Six guineas a week would cover the repairs and redecoration needed, pay for a washing machine, fridge and electric iron and make her life so much easier. And six guineas a week would mean she’d never again have to take in holiday-makers or lodgers, but could use the entire house as a proper home – giving Bob, Charlie and Ron a decent bedroom each instead of the poky and rather damp basement rooms.

It was terribly tempting – so tempting she felt the urge to run after Solly and accept his offer. But the war wasn’t over, she had responsibilities at home, and when her family returned she’d want to spend time with them in an effort to make up for all the years they’d been parted. As tantalising as it was, Solly’s offer needed some very careful thought.

Ron was snuggled up with Rosie on the couch, enjoying a bit of canoodling after the lunchtime rush. The dogs were sprawled in a patch of sunlight that streamed in through the open window, and the silence in the room was broken only by the distant sounds coming from Camden Road.

‘We ought to go out and enjoy the lovely weather,’ said Rosie, her hair tousled, her face flushed and her blue eyes hazy with desire.

Ron drew her back into his arms and softly nuzzled her neck with his lips. ‘We have the sun and fresh air through the window,’ he breathed, his fingers brushing the erect nubs of her nipples as he searched for the buttons on her blouse. ‘Are you sure you’re not wearing too many clothes, Rosie?’ he groaned with wanting. ‘It’s getting awful warm in here.’

Ron’s nimble fingers dealt with the buttons, and she tilted her head back with a little groan of pleasure as he kissed her sweet neck and ran his lips down to the twin globes of her delicious breasts. One twist had the brassiere undone and those glorious, sweetly scented orbs were free to kiss and caress.

But the banging persisted and the dogs were making such a fearful racket downstairs that Ron couldn’t concentrate. He swore under his breath, tucked his shirt back in and leaned out of the window. ‘Who the hell is that – and what do you want?’ he yelled.

Danuta appeared from the side alley, her little face a picture of distress. ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, but these came for Peggy.’

Ron’s impatience immediately died at the sight of the telegram. Rosie regarded him with anguish as she made herself decent. ‘Go, quickly,’ she urged. ‘Bring her in.’

Ron’s heart was hammering as he ran down the stairs, buttoning his shirt and trying to bring some order to his ruffled hair. In his haste he fumbled with the key and finally managed to open the door. ‘I’m sorry, wee girl,’ he said, drawing her into the hallway. ‘I didn’t mean to shout.’

She ignored his apology and thrust the brown envelope at him. ‘The man came with this,’ she said, her face pale with concern.

‘Have you read it?’ he asked, hearing Rosie coming down the stairs to join them.

Danuta shook her head. ‘It is for Peggy, but I think better you should see first in case …’

Regret to inform * Warrant Officer 11 James Michael Reilly wounded in action * Transferred to army hospital Calcutta.

Ron’s legs gave way and he slumped down on the bottom stair, passing the telegram to Rosie. ‘It tells me nothing,’ he rasped brokenly. ‘How badly is he wounded? Is he expected to recover? And how on earth do I tell Peggy? This will destroy her.’

‘There is a letter for Peggy also,’ said Danuta. ‘It has come from India, so perhaps it is from Jim.’

Ron regarded the letter. ‘That’s not Jim’s writing,’ he managed through the great lump in his throat. ‘And all the letters from over there have Indian stamps on them regardless of where they’ve come from.’

‘Ach, it’s not your fault, wee girl,’ he replied. ‘Something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.’ He gave a deep, tremulous sigh and got to his feet. ‘At least my boy’s alive, and for that we must be thankful.’

Rosie went to Danuta and gently steered her into the bar and sat her down on the settle beneath the back window. ‘Peggy has another hour before her shift’s over, and it won’t do her any good to hear this news in front of a factory full of gawping women. I think it’d be best if we waited until she’s at home.’

‘Aye,’ sighed Ron. ‘She’ll have love and support at home – but for all her courage, this will cut deep.’

As Rosie bustled about behind the counter to get them drinks, Ron turned the letter over and over in his hands before finally tearing it open. The address on the single page was an army Post Box number for the military hospital in Calcutta. The date showed it had been written almost three weeks ago.

Dear Mrs Reilly,

My name is Sarah Fitzpatrick, and I am a staff nurse who has been caring for your husband since he arrived here . He begged me to write to you so that when you receive the telegram from HQ, you would know the facts and be assured that although he’s been injured, it is not life-threatening. He has had an operation to remove shrapnel from his torso, and is expected to make a full recovery, which will see him returned to duty once he’s passed fit.

He will get the best of care here in India, I promise, and when he is able, he will write to you himself.

With very best wishes,

Staff Nurse Sarah Fitzpatrick, Royal Australian Nursing Corps.

Ron passed the letter to Danuta and then buried his face in his hands as the tears of relief finally came.

Peggy had fretted over where she could find a cot for Chloe to sleep in and how on earth she’d fit it into her bedroom, but most of all she was worried about Gracie, and how she was holding up. There had been no word from Solly, who’d left the factory shortly after their talk, so she was no wiser as to when she could expect to be taking Chloe in.

With her thoughts racing over Gracie’s shocking news, Solly’s job offer and all the things she’d have to do to prepare for the toddler, she clocked off her shift and headed for the crèche.

Daisy rushed to her, flinging her arms around Peggy’s legs and chattering about her day nineteen to the dozen. Peggy made the appropriate noises, only half listening as she pulled on her daughter’s cardigan and coaxed her into the pushchair.

‘I big girl. Don’t need that,’ Daisy said, folding her small arms and glaring at her.

‘Big you might be, but I’m in a hurry, so you’ll get in and behave,’ Peggy said shortly.

They held one another’s gaze, and as usual, it was Daisy who looked away first. She clambered grumpily into the pushchair, her expression making it clear that she wasn’t happy about it.

Peggy wheeled her out of the yard and was about to head for home when a large black car purred to a halt at the kerb and Rachel Goldman wound down the window. ‘Perfect timing, Peggy,’ she said with a smile. ‘I’ll give you a lift home before I take Gracie to the station.’

Peggy glanced into the car and saw that Gracie was staring sightlessly out of the window in her own painful world.

Daisy yelped in glee as she saw Chloe. Immacu-lately dressed and elegant as ever, Rachel climbed out to help Peggy fold the pushchair into the already crammed boot, whilst the two little girls greeted one another and got into an excited huddle on the back seat.

‘Very quiet, which is hardly surprising,’ Rachel murmured. ‘But I made sure they both had something to eat, and talked to her landlady, explaining the situation and making sure the rent was paid for another month to make certain she doesn’t let the room whilst Gracie is away.’ Rachel’s dark eyes gleamed with unshed tears. ‘She’s so grateful to you for taking in Chloe when she has so much else to contend with.’ She squeezed Peggy’s shoulder. ‘You’re a good woman, Peggy Reilly, and if you need anything, anything at all, you only have to ask me or Solly.’

Peggy blushed and quickly got into the car next to a dull-eyed Gracie who reached for her hand, clutching it tightly as Rachel drove towards Beach View.

‘Chloe knows she’s staying with you for a while,’ said Gracie as they pulled up by the front steps. ‘I told her I had to go and visit her daddy …’ her voice faltered. ‘And that I’d come back very soon.’

‘It’s all right,’ murmured Peggy, gripping her fingers. ‘She’ll be safe with me for however long it takes.’

Rachel got out of the car, ran up the steps and rapped the front door knocker, the little girls following closely behind her. As Ron opened the door the children scampered inside, and Harvey bolted down the steps towards Peggy and Gracie.

Peggy watched as Doris, Cordelia and the girls gathered around Ron to hear what Rachel was saying. She was clearly explaining what had happened, and why Chloe would be staying, and in a very short while, Ron came down the steps, silently hugged Gracie and then began unloading the boot with the help of the girls.

Peggy and Gracie followed them up the steps and into the hall, where Gracie’s possessions had been stacked. ‘I didn’t know what you might need, so I brought everything,’ she explained distractedly.

Ron eyed the suitcases, dismantled cot and bags of toys and bedding. ‘Ach, to be sure, ’tis better that way. The wee cot will take no time at all to put together, and I’ll be finding space for everything, never you mind.’

Cordelia came out of the kitchen, followed by the children who had milky moustaches and were eating biscuits – and Harvey who was trying to snaffle them. ‘Take care of yourself, Gracie dear,’ she said softly. ‘We shall all be thinking of you.’

Gracie returned her hug, bravely fighting her tears as little Chloe wrapped her arms about her legs. She picked her up and held her close. ‘Bye, bye, darling, be a good girl for Aunty Peggy, and I’ll see you very soon,’ she said, planting a kiss on her cheek.

Rachel pointedly tapped her watch and Gracie reluctantly set Chloe back on her feet and turned towards the door. She hugged Peggy and then, without a word, followed Rachel down the steps to the car.

Chloe happily waved goodbye and rushed off with Daisy and an over-excited Harvey to find more biscuits.

Peggy waited until the car was out of sight and then closed the door. ‘God only knows what she’ll find in Dover,’ she murmured. ‘I don’t know how I’d cope if something like that had happened to Jim.’

Ron was all too aware of the news he had yet to impart to Peggy, and it was with a heavy heart that he put his arm round her and gave her a hug. ‘Whatever she finds, she’ll cope,’ he said. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learnt in life, it’s that you women are far stronger than we men give you credit for.’

‘Well, at least something sensible has penetrated that dense brain of yours,’ said Cordelia before she turned to Peggy. ‘How long will Gracie be away?’

‘I have no idea,’ she replied, eyeing the luggage in the hall. ‘But I know for a fact I won’t be able to fit that lot in my room.’

‘You won’t have to,’ said Doris, who was standing in the kitchen doorway. ‘You can move into my room and I’ll take yours.’

‘No buts about it, Peggy,’ said Doris firmly. ‘You can’t possibly be crammed in together in that small room for goodness knows how long – and mine is big enough to take both cots as well as everything else.’

‘Well, it would certainly help,’ said Peggy, clearly still unable to come to terms with this new and unselfish Doris. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,’ said Doris. ‘We all have to muck in together at times like these.’ She turned to Ron, who was staring at her in amazement. ‘Do stop gawping like that, Ronan, it’s most unbecoming,’ she snapped. ‘The children will need to go to bed soon, so the quicker you sort out those cots and move the furniture, the sooner we’ll be straight.’

Ron tugged his forelock and grinned. ‘Yes, ma’am, no, ma’am, three bags full, ma’am,’ he said. ‘To be sure, I feel sorry for the Colonel if this is how you boss him about.’

‘Colonel White doesn’t need bossing,’ Doris said stiffly. ‘He’s an efficient man with a quick mind and knows immediately what has to be done.’

‘Oh aye?’ he murmured slyly. ‘Does that include taking his secretary to lunches at the Officers’ Club?’

Doris went scarlet and turned on her heel. ‘I shall be upstairs emptying my cupboards,’ she retorted.

‘Lunch at the club?’ asked a wide-eyed Peggy. ‘Goodness, she kept that quiet.’ She giggled. ‘You don’t think …’

‘I wouldn’t dare think anything of the sort,’ muttered Ron. ‘And I’d advise you to do the same.’

‘Aye, well, that’s what life does to a man when he’s surrounded by a gaggle of bossy women,’ he rumbled, reaching for the pieces of the dismantled cot.

Ron spent the next hour carting things up and down the stairs as Peggy and Doris emptied drawers and cupboards and the girls helped Cordelia watch the children and prepare the evening meal. He had to admit it was something of a respite to be keeping busy, for it delayed the moment when he’d have to sit Peggy down and tell her about Jim – a task he was dreading. He’d been quite overcome by the others’ reaction to the news when he’d told them earlier, and had steeled himself to face more tears when Peggy came home. However, Chloe’s arrival had drastically changed his plans and now he’d have to wait until later.

He wrestled to get the cots back together, his thoughts in a whirl. Peggy would no doubt be angry with him for keeping such a thing from her when everyone else in the house knew about it – but his shoulders were broad and he could take anything she threw at him. Jim was alive and being well looked after. That was all that really mattered.

Peggy finished reading from the story book and kissed the drowsy children goodnight. The cots had been pushed together, the sides taken down between them so they could curl up closely beneath the blankets. They looked so sweet as their eyelids drooped and sleep claimed them, but she had the feeling that come morning, they’d prove to be a real handful, and she’d have her work cut out to get them fed and dressed by the time she had to leave for work.

She left the nightlight on and surveyed the large room with its bow window and gas fire. The furniture was dark and heavy, the rug and chair by the fire beginning to show their age. She’d never slept in here before, or had so much space to move about and put things. And yet the size of the room unsettled her, and although her own mattress had been brought upstairs, it would still feel strange not to sleep in the bed she’d shared with Jim since they’d first been married. The change of room and the change of bed somehow distanced her from him and the memories they’d made together downstairs, and she wasn’t at all sure she was comfortable with that.

Her thoughts turned to poor Gracie, who was either camped out in a hospital waiting room or pacing the floor of some rented accommodation. She would be feeling very alone and vulnerable, worrying over Clive and missing Chloe, and the knowledge brought her sharply to her senses. Her cares were very minor compared to what her friend was going through, and she had no business fretting over silly things like the size of the room and the bed she’d be sleeping in tonight.

She took one last look at the sleeping children before leaving the door ajar so she could hear if they called out and then went downstairs.

‘Chloe was as good as gold and they’re both fast asleep,’ she said, sinking into a chair and lighting a cigarette.

She frowned as there was no response and realised that, most unusually, everyone had stayed home after tea – and that there was a strange and rather tense atmosphere in the room. Noting the furtive glances directed at Ron and seeing how ill at ease he seemed, she began to feel a creeping sense of something being very wrong. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked nervously.

‘Well, now, wee girl, there is something I have to tell you,’ Ron began, not quite meeting her gaze as Cordelia reached for her hand.

Peggy’s sudden fear rose to almost stifle her. ‘It’s Jim. Something’s happened to Jim, hasn’t it?’

‘He’s alive, Peggy,’ Ron said firmly, ‘but he has been hurt and is now recovering in India.’

His large hand rested on her shoulder. ‘He’s in hospital there being looked after by a very nice Australian nurse who assures us he’ll soon be on the mend,’ he said carefully.

Peggy could only stare at him as terrible images of a wounded Jim tormented her.

‘He hasn’t been burned like poor Clive,’ said Ron hastily, ‘and he’s had an operation to repair the wound, which is not serious, Peggy. The nurse assures us that he’ll soon be his old self again and back with his regiment before long.’

Peggy stared at him as her mind whirled and she tried to take it all in. ‘How long have you known?’ she demanded.

‘Then why didn’t you come and tell me then instead of leaving it until now?’

‘We thought it best you should hear this kind of news in the privacy of your own home,’ he replied. ‘And then with Gracie and Chloe turning up and all the kerfuffle of sorting out the rooms …’ He let the sentence hang in the air.

Peggy looked at the others, saw their sheepish expressions, and realised they’d all known. She felt a surge of anger which swiftly died away as reason took hold and she accepted that they’d kept quiet out of love. She’d have hated to hear the news coming so soon after Gracie’s, and in the full glare of the women in the factory – and with all that had gone on today, this was indeed the first and only moment they could have told her.

She slumped in the chair as the tension and fear left her. Jim was alive and would recover, and although she would have given anything to be able to rush to his side, the impossibility of doing such a thing made her thankful that he was in the best place with the best people looking after him.

‘Where’s that letter?’ she asked. She took it from Ron and swiftly read through it, thankful that Ron had prepared her for what it contained and that the nurse had laid out Jim’s situation clearly and that he would indeed recover. She folded the letter back into the envelope and reached for the telegram. The words were stark, telling her very little, and she squeezed her eyes shut on the tears that threatened.

‘Thank God for that girl’s letter,’ she breathed. ‘If I’d only had that telegram I would have feared the worst and gone out of my mind with worry.’

‘Aye, Jim understood that, which is why he was so determined the nurse wrote to you. I don’t know how the letter got here at the same time as the telegram, but I’m thinking it’s a wee miracle that it did.’

Peggy nodded and put both envelopes in her apron pocket. ‘Thank you, all of you,’ she said. ‘I know how hard you must have found it to keep this to yourselves, and coming so swiftly after Gracie’s awful news, it’s rather knocked me for six.’ She gave them a wan smile to assure them she was all right. ‘It’s been a traumatic day all round, and with the children likely to wake early, I think I’ll turn in.’

She lay staring into the deep shadows cast by the soft nightlight long after everyone else had gone to bed. As the children snuffled in their sleep she held the photograph of Jim to her heart, hoping that her thoughts and fervent prayers would somehow wing their way to him on the other side of the world.

The nurse’s letter had imbued in her an absolute faith that he would pull through – but then he’d be sent back to his regiment to join in the fighting again.

He’d been lucky this time. Yet for every day this war continued his chances of escaping further injury – or worse – lessened. And that was the awful spectre that lurked in the shadows and kept her awake.

15