Copyright

Published by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2019

Copyright © Annie Groves 2019

Cover design by Holly Macdonald © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019

Cover photographs © Jonathan Ring (models), Lebrecht Music & Arts / Alamy Stock Photo (background)

Annie Groves asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008272241

Ebook Edition © April 2019 ISBN: 9780008272258

Version: 2019-02-25

Dedication

Many, many thanks Teresa Chris, Kate Bradley and Pen Isaac – the dream team.

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Read on for a Q&A with Jenny Shaw, the author behind Annie Groves

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About Annie Groves

Also by Annie Groves

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE
Summer 1940

Edith Gillespie woke up and for a moment could not work out where she was. Her brain was too befuddled with sleep to remember and there was no light to give her a clue. She struggled to work it out.

Not in the house where she’d grown up in south London, that was for sure, because there would have been the sound of at least one of her many siblings breathing, or snoring, or sneezing. She’d never had the luxury of a room to herself for all those years, not until she’d left home to train as a nurse. She didn’t think she was in her nurses’ dormitory, though. That had been near a station and you could always hear the trains, or porters and drivers shouting. After that she’d chosen to take extra training as a district nurse, but this didn’t feel like the home in Richmond. It must be wherever she’d gone after that.

Now it all came back to her. She was at the North Hackney Queen’s Nurses home on Victory Walk, in Dalston. This was her little attic room, and the reason it was so dark was that the blackout blind was firmly in place. The country was at war, and had been for nearly a year. It was warm as it was summer, and from the birdsong outside it was already dawn. Slowly she sat up and shook her head, trying to wake up.

Her dream lingered on the fringes of her mind. The details had gone but the sensation of happiness – of being cared for – remained, and she smiled in the darkness, savouring that comforting and thrilling feeling. Somebody loved her and she loved them back.

Then she remembered and cried out despite herself. Harry was gone. Harry Banham, the most handsome and wonderful man in the world, had not made it back from Dunkirk, and she was alone. Her dream had lied. There was nobody to hug her, to hold her and tell her how beautiful she was. There was no golden future for the couple who’d attracted envious glances wherever they’d gone. The life they’d so recently begun to plan was never going to happen. Sobs came from her throat and dimly she realised that she started most of her days like this, waking in the hope of seeing Harry and then coming back to reality with a sickening bump.

Her alarm clock began to ring and she reached automatically to silence it, then crept across the rag rug to the window and pulled back a corner of the blind. Sunshine edged its way into the little room, revealing that it was far from luxurious but had all the essentials. The room of a woman who had a job to do.

Edith turned to her wardrobe. The full-length mirror on its door reflected her slight figure, with her short, dark hair sticking up from where she’d slept on it. Her dark eyes took it in and she automatically smoothed it back down. Then she took out her uniform, shaking out the creases. Time to start the day. No matter that her heart was still raw from recent bereavement. Plenty of others were in the same boat. She had to carry on as normal and do what was required of her. After all, she was a nurse.

‘Gladys, whatever are you doing?’

Edith arrived downstairs for breakfast to be greeted by her colleague, Mary Perkins, complaining loudly. Mary had never been one for waking up in the best of tempers and now her voice rose over the clattering of saucepans and pots being stacked on the lino floor of the storeroom, which was squeezed between the stairs and the large area they all used as a canteen and common room.

Gladys, who helped out their cook and with general domestic duties, stood up and pushed her lank brown hair from her eyes. Even though the morning was still young she looked as if she’d already been up for hours.

‘We got to hand over all our scrap metal,’ she said. ‘The government says so. There’s going to be a collection or we can take it to the council. So I’m sorting out all our old pots what aren’t no real use any more.’

‘Yes, but can’t you do so quietly?’ Mary wailed. ‘Surely they can’t need it right now? The council depots won’t even be open, and I’ll bet all their staff are still safely asleep, like anybody sensible would be.’

Gladys shook her head. ‘I got other things to do later. So I thought I’d get on and do this now, then it will be one job done and ticked off me list.’

Edith nodded to herself. This time last year, Gladys wouldn’t have said boo to a goose, but she’d changed in the months in between, gaining in confidence and learning to read. Now she was standing up to Mary, who had a heart of gold, but was used to a lifetime of speaking sharply to servants.

‘Come on,’ Edith said, not wanting to start the day with a row. ‘I’m starving. Let’s have some toast.’ She steered Mary away and over to a vacant dining table, as Gladys resumed her sorting and stacking.

Mary plonked herself down on the hard wooden chair, which made her rich brown curls bounce around her cross face, and allowed Edith to fetch her some toast and a cup of tea. ‘It’s too bad,’ she grumbled.

‘What? That Gladys has to get up even earlier than usual to clear out the broken saucepans?’ Edith thought that was a bit much, even for Mary.

Mary shook her head. ‘No, of course not. I know I’m being silly.’ She sighed as she smeared a small amount of butter across the toast. ‘It’s nothing to do with Gladys really. It’s Charles.’

Edith raised her eyebrows in sympathy, even though she sometimes envied Mary for the fact that her boyfriend was still alive and so she really didn’t have much to complain about. However, she liked to hear about what her friend’s beau was doing, partly because he was a captain in the army and generally knew what was going on in the wider world, even if he wasn’t permitted to tell them the half of it. ‘What’s wrong, then? Spill the beans.’

Mary crunched into her toast and took a second slice. It would take more than a minor argument to make her lose her appetite. She finished her mouthful and looked up, her expression changing from annoyed to sad. ‘Well, of course I hardly see him, he’s so busy. Then, when we do manage to find an evening when he’s not on duty, he’s so preoccupied that I sometimes wonder if he hears a word I say.’ She patted one of her curls into place. ‘Yesterday I spent ages doing my hair, wearing my nicest silk blouse and making sure I looked my very best to cheer him up. Boost his morale and all that. But he didn’t even notice. Didn’t say a thing.’

Edith set down her own piece of toast. ‘I expect he did and just didn’t want to mention it,’ she suggested.

‘But I want him to mention it!’ Mary cried, her usually bright blue eyes now filled with irritation. ‘It took me ages, and you know how hard it’s becoming to buy nice makeup and find a way to make your favourite perfume last. I don’t want to let him down when he takes me to lovely restaurants.’

‘Of course,’ said Edith, although her experience of lovely restaurants was nonexistent. Harry used to take her to a local pub, the Duke’s Arms, or one of the nearby cinemas, and that was all they had needed.

‘He keeps going on about the threat of Hitler invading,’ Mary confided. ‘I tell him, he won’t. He wouldn’t dare. Mr Churchill will defend us. That’s what he’s promised to do and I believe him. There’s no need to worry on that score. Charles won’t tell me any details but he looks so tired and drawn, poor lamb. Yesterday he couldn’t even spare the time for a proper meal. We just went to the hotel bar nearest to his office and had a quick supper there. Not that it wasn’t lovely,’ she added loyally.

‘I bet it was,’ said Edith. Mary had been adamant up until the actual outbreak of hostilities that there wasn’t going to be a war, that Mr Chamberlain would stop it. So Edith didn’t have any great faith in her friend’s abilities to predict the future. Yet she could not fault her for steadfastness and optimism, qualities which might be very important in the days to come, if her own worst fears of invasion came true.

‘I’m beginning to think he’s a bit of a fusspot,’ Mary admitted. ‘He was so carefree and fun when we first met, and now his mind is always on something else, I can just tell.’ She reached for the marmalade and carefully helped herself to a small amount, to leave enough for whoever sat at the table next. Nobody could slather it on their toast any more, the ingredients were too scarce. Sugar had been rationed since the start of the year and oranges had all but disappeared.

‘Well, he’s got an important job to do,’ Edith pointed out. She checked her watch. ‘As have we.’

Hastily Mary finished off the last of her breakfast. ‘I’d better go and restock my Gladstone bag. I didn’t get around to it last night, what with preparing to go out with Charles. I don’t want to run short of anything.’

Edith made a face of mock horror. ‘I should think not. And don’t so much as breathe such a thing in front of Gwen.’

Mary glanced hastily around, as if mentioning the name of their fearsome deputy superintendent was enough to conjure up her presence. ‘Heaven forfend. Right, I’m off. See you later.’

Edith grinned, although she knew that Gwen’s bark was worse than her bite. The older woman had been kindness itself when they’d first learnt the news about Harry. But that was a side of Gwen that few people saw. She would have been perfectly right to berate Mary if the young nurse had been mistaken enough to set off on her rounds without a properly stocked bag. Every district nurse relied upon this most vital piece of equipment, which contained everything she might need when visiting a patient’s house. It was no exaggeration to say that lives depended on it.

‘You’re up early.’

Edith turned around at the sound of a chair scraping beside her, and looked up into the steady blue eyes of her best friend, Alice Lake, who lowered her tall frame to sit at the vacant place at the table.

‘Couldn’t sleep for ages and then I woke up before the alarm,’ Edith admitted.

Alice nodded in sympathy as she set down her bowl of porridge. ‘Again,’ she said.

Edith shrugged. Alice was the only nurse who knew about her dreaded moments when she awoke thinking Harry was still alive and then remembered that he wasn’t. Yet she was getting better. At first the realisation would make her feel so sick that she couldn’t face breakfast, and would end up shaking with exhaustion by the end of her morning rounds. Now she could manage some toast and set off with something like her old energy, because she knew that neither Harry nor the rest of his family, who lived nearby, would have wanted her to fail in her chosen profession.

‘Who’s your first patient?’ Alice asked, knowing that the best way to help Edith was to concentrate on work.

‘Dennis,’ Edith replied. He was one of their favourites, a teenager with a tubercular hip who required regular visits, and whose life was one of discomfort at best, but who never complained. ‘He’s been pretty bright recently, and Dr Patcham thinks we might even be able to try him walking for short periods with crutches. I don’t want to rush him though. His leg muscles are wasted from lying in bed for so long.’

Alice beamed at the idea. ‘Imagine how happy his mother would be. I know she thought her son would never walk again.’

Edith agreed. ‘It would be a small miracle – but don’t tell anyone or it might jinx it. Anyway, I’d better go.’

‘Give them my best and tell them I’ll see them soon,’ Alice called, raising her teacup as Edith departed.

The sunlight flooded the corridor of the big old Victorian house as Edith strode along it, to pick up her own bag before setting off on her bicycle for the day. It was true that there was finally a ray of hope for young Dennis, and it was moments like that which had led her to do this job in the first place. There was a long way to go for him, and he might always have a limp; everything would be easier if he could leave his crowded street and move to somewhere with fresh air, but she might as well recommend him to fly to the moon. Besides, even the countryside was open to attack; areas around airfields had started to see enemy planes overhead and nowhere was guaranteed to be safe.

‘So you aren’t missing much, Harry Banham,’ she murmured to herself, carefully wedging the bulging leather bag into the bicycle basket. She knew she didn’t mean it, though. She would have given anything for him to be back with her, laughing with his friends, joking with his family, throwing his beloved little niece into the air and catching her before his mother could tell him off. She shook her head, and automatically checked that her dark wavy hair was secure under her cap. It was no use; he was gone, and she had work to do.

‘Gillian! No, put it down.’ Mattie Askew, nee Banham, pushed herself to her feet and padded on swollen ankles across the family kitchen to try to stop her daughter from pulling a china bowl off the low shelf where it shouldn’t have been in the first place. ‘Ma, stop her, I’m too slow.’

Flo Banham swung around from where she was peeling potatoes at the kitchen sink and in one swift movement rescued the bowl with one hand and caught her granddaughter with the other, lifting her up and holding her so their eyes were level. ‘No you don’t, my girl,’ she said lovingly but firmly. ‘You know that’s not a toy. Heaven knows you’ve got enough of those, so when I put you down, you’re to play with them and not with my china.’

Gillian roared with laughter and tapped her grandmother’s nose.

‘Don’t you try and get around me like that.’ Flo put the little girl back on the mat and wiped her hands on her faded and threadbare apron. ‘Oh, she’s got a surprise coming. Just wait until her baby brother or sister arrives.’

Mattie groaned and rubbed her growing bump. ‘Can’t come soon enough for me. Whatever was I thinking of, carrying a baby through the heat of summer. We’ll both melt before it’s due. Nearly three more months! I don’t think I can do it.’

Flo tutted. ‘Of course you will. That’s Lennie’s child you’ve got there, and you owe it to him to bring it safely into the world.’

Mattie rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t have to remind me. As if I’d forget.’ Her husband Lennie had been taken prisoner at Dunkirk, only weeks after she’d written to him to say he was going to be a father for the second time. He’d been beside himself with joy at the news, and it was knowing that which kept her going. That and caring for their firstborn: Gillian, now nearly eighteen months old, and growing better at walking and talking every day. The toddler assumed, quite rightly, that she was the centre of everyone’s attention, and wasn’t old enough to miss the people who should have been there: her father and her doting Uncle Harry.

The third missing face belonged to Mattie’s older brother, Joe, who was in the navy. Nobody knew exactly where he was or what he was doing, as letters arrived home in no regular pattern, depending on if and when he was in port. He was a master at writing long, funny, affectionate letters without actually telling them anything. She looked forward to them, as they were as entertaining as reading a real book. Lennie, even Mattie would be first to admit, wasn’t a great one for letters, but he had managed to send one from his prison camp to assure everyone back home that he was alive and as well as possible. Mattie had already sent off one parcel via the Red Cross to make his stay more bearable.

Mattie sank back down onto the comfy chair, keeping a close eye on Gillian, who had found her teddy bear which had rolled under the kitchen table. Then came a gentle waft of welcome cool air as the door to the back kitchen opened and Stan Banham strode in. He was an imposing figure, tall and straight-backed, although his face had grown etched with new lines ever since the news had come through about Harry. He was the local trusted Air Raid Precautions warden, as well as working full time, and Mattie knew that whatever happened, her father would be there to make everything better. He was the rock on whom they all depended. She struggled to her feet. ‘Fancy some tea?’ she asked as brightly as she could, despite the heavy weight of the growing baby.

Stan smiled at his only daughter and then at his granddaughter, who ducked out from beneath the table and held her arms up, demanding a cuddle. Stan obliged. ‘No, you sit yourself down, I’ll just have a glass of water to cool off,’ he said, tousling Gillian’s fine brown hair before gently putting her down again. ‘It’s warm out there. The heat will have died down before I go out on my rounds; that’s something to be thankful for.’

Flo looked at him. ‘Well, that’s good,’ she said slowly. ‘Have you heard anything more today? About what’s going on? Down the market there are all sorts of rumours. Some say Hitler’s just waiting to pounce, that he’s got all his tanks lined up on the French coast.’

Stan shook his head. ‘You know better than to listen to rumour. People will repeat any old rubbish.’ He took a deep breath, easing off his light jacket. While he didn’t want to give anyone false hope, one of his foremost duties as an ARP warden was to prevent panic and keep everyone calm. If necessary that applied to his own family too. ‘We’ll take whatever comes and do our best. That’s all we can do. We won’t be frightened by silly tales or scaremongers. Worrying never solved anything, you know that as well as I do.’

Flo nodded, reassured as ever by her husband’s presence. ‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ she said with determination. ‘And we’ll start with my potato pie.’

CHAPTER TWO

Billy Reilly wiped his itching eyes. They were red from tiredness, not helped by his underlying anxiety that this was the calm before the storm. He gazed up at the darkening sky, searching for any enemy planes. They’d been spotted in small numbers in Kent and along the south coast, sneaking over the Channel, as was common knowledge down at the docks where he worked. You couldn’t stop sailors and dockers talking to each other. How much everyone else knew was anyone’s guess, but he had a pretty good idea of what was going on.

He forced himself to concentrate on the job in hand. As well as working his full shift of hard manual graft, he now had an evening of ARP duty, walking the streets of Dalston, checking that everyone had put up their blackout blinds correctly and generally helping out whenever he was called upon. He’d learnt most of what he needed to know from his colleague Stan, who everyone looked up to. Billy had known Stan since he was at school, as Stan’s sons were two of his best friends. Or, rather, they had been; now there was just Joe left.

He was used to his duties now and found it easier to confront householders who refused to obey the regulations. In some ways it was easier in summer, as the longer hours of daylight meant nobody needed to use their gas – or, in rare cases, electric – lamps until late in the evening. During the winter months, when he’d been new to the work, there had been plenty of rows, as people pointed out that the expected air raids and gas attacks hadn’t happened and so what was the point of putting up ugly black blinds? Some wardens were lenient, insisting on the blinds only when there was a warning siren, but Billy thought that was the start of a slippery slope and aimed to be equally strict with everybody. Lives might depend on it.

He wondered whether he could find an excuse to call in on Kathleen. He wanted to more than anything else in the world but didn’t like to push his luck. He could tell himself it was out of simple concern for her welfare, as she had nobody else to look out for her and her little son. She struggled to make ends meet and he loved helping her out in small ways. Yet, if he was honest, he knew the real reason was that he’d been in love with her for years but had missed his opportunity to tell her.

She’d been another person Billy had known from school, and he’d always thought she was the prettiest girl there. Gradually they had drifted into the same circle of friends and they had all stayed in touch after leaving, when Billy had gone to work down at the docks. Just as he was gathering his courage to tell her how he felt, she’d met that handsome wastrel Ray Berry, and before you could say knife she’d gone and married him.

Billy drew a sharp breath at the thought of the man who had treated Kath so badly. She’d hidden his true nature from them all for ages, but it had got to the point where anyone could see the bruising. And it wasn’t only Kath who’d suffered. Ray had resented their baby son, which was unforgivable. When the news had come that Ray had not survived Dunkirk, most people had felt relief.

Yet Kathleen had been more distant since that day. It was as if she felt guilty at sharing the relief, the knowledge that Ray could never hurt her or little Brian ever again. So Billy was biding his time, not wanting to rush things, to ask for too much too soon. One thing was certain though; he didn’t intend to be pipped to the post again. Kathleen was the only woman for him, and if he had to wait until she realised that they were destined to be together, then so be it.

Peggy sighed as she dutifully fastened the blackout blinds in her mother-in-law’s kitchen. This was not how she had imagined her life turning out. She had moved in after she and Pete had got married in the autumn, with the plan that they would have their own house as soon as the war was over. Pete had been happy at the thought of his wife and his mother keeping one another company while he fought for his country. He hadn’t hesitated to enlist in the army when war broke out, even though their long-awaited wedding had been only weeks away. Everything had been going so well; they still managed to marry, and he’d had a wonderful period of leave at Christmas. She’d realised she was pregnant and they’d been thrilled. But then she had miscarried, and before that really sank in, Pete had been killed at Dunkirk.

‘Are you finished in there, Peggy love?’

‘Nearly,’ Peggy called back, from between gritted teeth. She hadn’t minded Mrs Cannon at first. They’d always got along well, and the older woman had welcomed her into her home, pleased that Pete was so happy in his choice of bride. Everyone could see how well suited they were; they’d been together since meeting at school, although they’d only become serious once Peggy had started working at the gas-mask factory.

Now, though, every tiny request or comment drove Peggy to the point of screaming. Nothing she did was ever quite right. The forks weren’t the right way round in the cutlery drawer. She hadn’t used enough Reckitt’s Blue in the washing. She didn’t know the best way to darn the frayed elbow of a jumper. None of these complaints on its own was enough to spark a row, but added together they were stifling.

It wasn’t that Peggy had to do all the housework. She knew she was lucky; plenty of young women her age were expected to do the lion’s share of the cleaning and cooking as well as working full time. Mrs Cannon was not like that and had been heard to boast that Peggy was a good girl, putting in all those hours at the factory and then helping out around the house. Peggy groaned inwardly. It was just that when she did help, it always provoked gentle criticism.

‘Come and listen to the wireless,’ called Mrs Cannon from the front room. ‘That Wilfrid Hyde-White is going to be on – he’s ever so good.’

‘Thank you, I will,’ Peggy replied, wanting to hit her head against the wall. Another evening beckoned of sitting either side of the fireplace with the wireless in pride of place in the middle of the mantelpiece, knitting or sewing on buttons while the Home Service played at full volume. Peggy preferred the music programmes, especially if Ella Fitzgerald came on, but her mother-in-law didn’t like those kinds of singers. Peggy had often wondered if she could get away with simply turning the sound down a few notches. Mrs Cannon was a little deaf but would not admit it.

Running out of excuses to stay in the kitchen, she painted on a smile as she went through to where her mother-in-law was already sitting in her armchair, knitting at the ready.

‘Thank you, dear,’ said Mrs Cannon, her eyes twinkling in appreciation. ‘I don’t know how I’d manage without you around, I really don’t. I find it so hard to reach the tops of the windows now, what with my lumbago, and arthritis in my fingers. You’re so nimble, you’re lucky.’

‘It’s nothing,’ said Peggy, keeping the smile in place though her cheeks ached. She took the other armchair, the slightly less comfy one, and reached for her sewing bag. She brought out a skirt on which she had optimistically let out the waist when she’d been pregnant; she might as well take it in again. Her fingers trembled slightly at the memory as she threaded her needle.

‘Oh, what good eyesight you have,’ Mrs Cannon said warmly. ‘I remember when I used to be able to do that without my glasses. Not any more. Those days are long gone.’

Peggy nodded. ‘What are you knitting?’ she asked, for something to say, although she already knew the answer. It was the same cardigan her mother-in-law had been working on all week.

‘Just a little something to keep me warm when autumn comes,’ she answered, the same as she always did. ‘I can do one for you if you like.’

Peggy tried not to shudder. The colour, a dull brown, was not at all to her taste. ‘No, you save the wool for yourself,’ she said hastily, knowing that if she were to wear such a shade it would drain every ounce of colour from her face.

So Mrs Cannon thought she was lucky, did she? Peggy could not imagine feeling much worse. Stuck in here, with the sound of those blasted needles clacking away, knowing that any minute now there would be a well-meant but undermining comment about her sewing technique. How was that lucky? No baby, no Pete. How she had loved him, with his athletic frame and dark eyes that sent her weak at the knees every time he looked at her. How she missed holding him, being held by him. She’d never feel like that again. No man could ever come close to Pete, and that heady rush of first love that grew stronger by the year until they’d realised that they were meant for each other. All that had gone, vanished in the waters off Dunkirk.

The only way in which she counted herself lucky was that she was certain how he had died. One of his comrades had seen it happen: one quick, fatal bullet. He wouldn’t have suffered. He had been serving his country, which was what he had wanted to do. He was no coward, had never flinched from physical confrontation. If there was a wrong to be righted, Pete had been the man. For a minute Peggy thought of Edith; nobody was able to reassure her of Harry’s fate. His body hadn’t been found. He had failed to return to his unit, and wasn’t on any of the wounded lists, and so they had to assume he’d drowned and not resurfaced. How unbearable for them all.

Peggy had liked Edith on the occasions when they’d all gone out together. She always seemed keen to enjoy herself, to have a bit of fun, to let her hair down after a hard day’s work, and had fitted in easily to their group of old school friends. A thought occurred to her and she accidentally jabbed the needle into her finger.

‘Are you all right, dear?’ Mrs Cannon asked at once. ‘Haven’t made yourself bleed, have you?’

‘No, no,’ Peggy said, swiftly hiding the telltale dot of blood. She pretended to search for her scissors while the idea grew. She really could not stand the thought of every evening turning out like this, cooped up in the little front room full of trinkets, every one bearing some kind of memory of Pete, with just his old mother for company. Perhaps Edith would like an evening out. They could go to the Duke’s Arms and nobody would mind two women out on their own as they were well known there. Harry and Pete had been regulars, and were well liked. They could sit in the beer garden at the back and watch the world go by. Anything was better than this. Peggy gave a genuine smile and Mrs Cannon smiled back.

Peggy decided she would send a message to the nurses’ home the very next morning.

CHAPTER THREE

Edith sped along Dalston Lane on her bike, the breeze catching at her dark hair escaping from her starched cap. She was heading for one of the smaller side streets but had been there often enough not to have to check her bearings. That was often the way with a patient who required nursing twice a day. What with Dennis and this patient, she had a busy round even without any new cases.

She was on her way to see a three-year-old boy who not only had measles but had developed the complication of pneumonia as well. He was a very sick child, and Edith’s heart ached for him and his mother. She had not yet met the father, who was out working all hours at one of the local factories which had changed from producing pencils to munitions. He must have been earning a decent wage as the house was in a reasonable condition compared to many she visited, and yet it was barely big enough for the family, which numbered five children altogether.

Edith knocked smartly at the door, which must have been painted fairly recently, as it was nowhere near as chipped as its neighbours. Mrs Bell opened up at once, and ushered Edith inside. ‘I’m terribly glad to see you, nurse. Vinny’s been all hot and he can’t sleep, poor little mite.’ She turned to another child right behind her. ‘Out you go, Freda, you know you’re to keep out of nurse’s way and not go near any of her things. We don’t want you down with it as well. One’s enough, one’s more than enough.’ The woman sounded at the end of her tether.

Freda, who looked about six, regarded Edith with big, curious eyes. ‘Is me brother goin’ ter die, miss?’ she asked.

Edith crouched down to the girl’s level and met her gaze. ‘Not if I have anything to do with it,’ she said cheerfully. ‘We’re going to look after him and see that he has the best possible chance of getting better. So you can do your bit by making sure you’re quiet when you go past his door and letting him rest.’

‘All right, miss.’ The little girl seemed reassured. ‘He’s got my bedroom, though. I want it back.’

‘Freda!’ cried the mother. ‘You know it’s because it’s the smallest room, and Vinny can’t share with the boys if he’s so sick. You’ll just have to put up with it. He needs it more than you do.’

Edith smiled, feeling sorry for the little girl. It wasn’t her fault that she had been turfed out of her room. ‘When he’s properly better you can go back to how it was before,’ she assured her. The girl nodded solemnly and ran into the kitchen.

‘Nurse, I’m so sorry,’ gasped the mother, stricken. ‘You’ll think we brung them up with no manners.’

Edith began to climb the stairs towards the back bedroom on the topmost floor. ‘Not a bit, Mrs Bell. Sometimes we forget how the other children are affected if one of the family is sick. They can be frightened and don’t know what to do to make it better. Sometimes they think it’s their fault.’ She paused. ‘All you can do is keep telling them everyone’s doing their best and they aren’t to blame one way or the other.’

‘You’re very kind, nurse,’ Mrs Bell replied, sounding unconvinced. She and Edith paused on the top landing outside the bedroom door. As quietly as she could, Edith took off her coat, nurse’s cap and apron and hung them over the banister. From her bag she took out an overall and handkerchief to wear over her hair, along with everything she would need to treat the little boy. They had to minimise all risk of contamination, even though it meant carrying around extra items and added to the length of the visit.

Mrs Bell had queried why this was necessary to start with, but Edith promised her it was set down in the strict guidelines for such a case. She also required a bowl of disinfectant and a nailbrush to be left outside the bedroom door so that she, Mrs Bell or the doctor when he came could ensure their hands were clean going in and going out. Mrs Bell had protested. ‘Where can I put that without the other kids knocking it over? This ain’t a hospital where you can see what’s going on. The older boys sleep in that room opposite, and they’ll stick their noses into everything.’

Edith had looked around and noticed a small bookshelf at her head height; she was on the short side. ‘That might do,’ she said.

Mrs Bell had tutted. ‘We ain’t got many books and, those we have, the little darlings scribble all over, so we put our good ones up there. I’ll have to put them in me and Terry’s room, otherwise they’ll draw animals all over the pages.’ She removed the precious copies of Pears’ Cyclopaedia, the Bible and the Children’s Everything Within.

Now Edith carefully reached for the bowl, standing on tiptoe, making sure not to dislodge the envelope she had to leave for the doctor containing the patient’s report and chart. Grimly she thought that the people who devised the guidelines might have meant well but they hadn’t reckoned on big families living in confined spaces. And this was one of the luckier households.

Finally they were ready to go into the little bedroom. It was warm inside, but Mrs Bell had left the window open as instructed, so that what passed for fresh air around Dalston could freely circulate. On the narrow bed under a threadbare candlewick bedspread lay a little boy, propped on pillows and scarcely making a sound. Edith gently crouched beside him. ‘How are you feeling, Vinny?’ she asked.

‘Hot,’ he whispered.

Edith turned to Mrs Bell, lingering in the doorway. ‘Could you fetch him a glass of cold water?’ she asked, reaching for the tray set on the battered dressing table. All the crockery and cutlery that Vinny used had to be kept separate, so as not to infect the rest of the family, although that presented another hurdle for his mother.

Glad to be of use, Mrs Bell set off back downstairs, and Edith could properly assess her patient without causing his anxious parent even more worry. As she would with every case, she took his temperature, pulse and respiration, and noted them for comparison later. ‘Oh, you are a spotty boy,’ she said softly. ‘How am I going to recognise you when you’re better, eh? You’ll look so different.’ The little boy tried to smile but he was clearly too exhausted.

Edith shut the window and then set about sponging him down, noting that his spots were actually fading slightly. Perhaps he was turning the corner. ‘Are you hungry?’ she asked encouragingly. ‘Maybe Mummy can bring you some beef tea.’ But he shook his head.

She went on to check his eyes and ears in case of any extra complications. ‘And have you had a pain in your tummy?’ she wondered, knowing that any disturbances of that kind could indicate still further problems. Wearily he shook his head once more, and turned his face into the pillow.

Edith swiftly finished her work and was just opening the window again when Mrs Bell returned, glass in hand. She had put on the flannel overall that Edith had lent her so that her own housecoat wouldn’t spread infection throughout the rest of the home. ‘See if you can get him to drink it,’ Edith urged. ‘He might still be off his food but he’s got to keep up his fluid intake. That’s more important than getting him to eat anything. Maybe some thin soup, when his appetite returns.’

Mrs Bell sat on the bed and looked at her boy with exhausted, concerned affection. ‘He’s a good little chap usually. Loves his pie and mash.’

Edith smiled. ‘It might be a while before he manages any pie. Mash would be good though, with beef gravy if there’s any going. But whatever you do, don’t let anyone else eat his leftovers or they might still catch this and we don’t want that.’

Mrs Bell’s shoulders slumped. ‘That’s easier said than done. We can’t afford to waste food. There’s too many mouths to feed and that’s a fact.’

Edith nodded in acknowledgement. The guidelines insisted that a patient’s leftover meals should be burnt or flushed down the lavatory, which was fine if you had a bathroom upstairs, but far from easy if not. Again the rules were hard to apply in circumstances such as these. ‘Just do your best,’ she said encouragingly. ‘You’ve managed very well so far. Having a mother who is prepared to go to all these lengths makes a great difference – you’d be surprised. I know all these rules seem silly, but they work. I do believe he might be on the mend.’

Mrs Bell’s expression changed to one of hope. ‘Really? Do you think so?’

Edith bit her lip, wondering if she had said too much too soon. After all, it was only an impression she’d formed and she wasn’t the doctor. However, she had seen such cases before and knew what to look for. ‘It’s early days,’ she cautioned, ‘but I’d say his spots have gone past the worst. Also his temperature is down a notch even though he feels hot. So keep on doing what you’re doing, and we’ll see how he goes on.’

Mrs Bell hurriedly wiped one eye. ‘Thank you, nurse,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without you.’

‘There’s a message for you,’ Mary greeted her on her return.

For a moment Edith’s heart flew to her mouth and her pulse quickened, but then she damped down the feeling. The one person she most wanted to hear from would never write to her again.

‘Looks as if it’s from Peggy,’ Mary went on, oblivious to what Edith was thinking. ‘I haven’t seen her for ages, have you?’

‘No,’ Edith replied, taking the envelope and sticking it in her skirt pocket while she set down her bag. ‘Blimey, my arm’s aching from carrying all that extra stuff. So many infectious cases at the moment – or is it just me?’

Mary shrugged. ‘I had two confirmed of measles today, and one suspected case. I shall have to notify the school. What a palaver. Fancy some tea?’ she added, heading for the stairs to the common room.

‘I’ll see you down there,’ said Edith, knowing she would have to sort out her bag first.

When she eventually joined her friend, several other nurses had gathered on the same table, comparing measles cases.

‘It’s so hard on the mothers,’ said Belinda, a tall, dark-haired nurse who had joined the home in the New Year, fresh from her QNI training, but who was now thoroughly used to working on the district. ‘They all say the same thing – they wish they’d never come back after being evacuated. They think that if they’d stayed away in their billets, the children would still be all right.’

Edith sat down. ‘That’s daft, though. You can catch measles as easily out in the countryside as in the city. It doesn’t care who it infects.’

Alice agreed. ‘Yes, of course, but it’s true that the parents feel awful and blame themselves. Anyway, it will be the end of term soon and perhaps some families will go back to where they were evacuated because of the threat of invasion.’

Mary immediately turned on her. ‘Don’t talk rot. There won’t be one.’

Alice looked at her levelly. ‘We don’t know that, Mary. There might well be. We just can’t say. The fact is that some parents have told the schools they’re taking their children away again, and it’s making the teachers’ lives very difficult as they don’t know what to plan for the new September term, invasion or no invasion.’ One of Alice’s friends was a teacher at a nearby primary school, and so she was up to date on their day-to-day problems.

Mary wasn’t prepared to argue with Alice, who – it was generally acknowledged – was better informed than anyone else when it came to current affairs, as she spent much of her spare time reading the newspapers or glued to the news on the wireless. She decided to change the subject instead.

‘What did Peggy have to say?’ she asked, turning to Edith.

Edith had quite forgotten about the envelope in the hurry to sort out her potentially infected clothing, find a fresh set for tomorrow’s visit, and to restock her Gladstone bag for the morning. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t had a moment to look.’

‘Well, how about now?’ demanded Mary impatiently. In the absence of any letters for herself, Edith receiving one was the next best thing.

Edith obligingly reached into her pocket and drew it out, jagging it open with her index finger. ‘All right … she says it’s a shame we haven’t seen each other for a while, and she knows what it feels like …’ Edith took a quick gulp and went on, ‘so why don’t I come and meet her in the Duke’s Arms on Friday evening after work and we can pretend it’s like old times. Well, without Harry and Pete, of course.’ There, she’d done it, she’d said his name in front of a group of people and not broken down. She silently patted herself on the back.

‘Would you want to?’ asked Alice doubtfully.

Edith sighed. ‘If you’d asked me even last week, I’d have said no. But she might have a point. I don’t want to spend the summer moping around. Harry wouldn’t have wanted it and neither would Pete. After all, what harm could it do? It’s only down the road and we’ll know lots of people there. Clarrie might come.’ Peggy’s friend Clarrie worked in the gas-mask factory as well. She too was part of the old school gang. ‘Why don’t you come along, Al? Or Mary? Belinda?’

Alice shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. You go, but I’ll stay in.’ Everyone knew her idea of a good time was an evening spent reading a book in her room.

Belinda raised her eyebrows. ‘I might. There’s a chance my brother will be in town, and if he is I’ll want to try to meet him, but who knows with the trains these days. So I’ll see, if that’s all right with you.’

Mary beamed. ‘Count me in. Charles will be working late again, and so just you try to stop me.’

Gwen let her good friend Miriam take the window seat as they stepped onto the bus. Miriam had been adamant that Gwen should not waste her day off but accompany her to the West End for a shopping trip. Gwen had gone along, but more for the pleasure of spending the afternoon with her friend than with the intention of buying anything. She wasn’t particularly interested in what she wore; clothes served a purpose and that was that. Most of the time she wore her nurse’s uniform anyway. Miriam, however, had other ideas.

‘You can’t let what’s going on in the world stop you doing what you enjoy,’ she had said. ‘For me, that’s buying nice clothes. No, don’t wrinkle your nose like that. If you don’t want to buy anything yourself, I shan’t make you, but do me the favour of coming along and telling me what suits me best.’

Gwen had recognised this was simply a ruse, as nobody knew what suited Miriam better than Miriam herself. Now she glanced at her friend, beautifully turned out in a lilac skirt with matching light cotton jacket over a cream blouse with a delicate lace collar. She had kept her figure and it was hard to believe she had an adult son. Other women might have been jealous, but Gwen was happy for her, as she knew it mattered to Miriam that she looked smart. She had her role to play as the wife of a successful businessman. Also, she simply loved clothes.

‘I’m sure this little summer coat will come in useful,’ she said happily, patting the bag on her lap. ‘And how lucky that they had a scarf to go with it. You could have got one as well, Gwen.’

Gwen laughed. ‘Where would I wear it? Teaching first aid? I don’t think so.’

‘You’d wear it for the pure pleasure of it,’ Miriam laughed. ‘I always feel better when I have a nice scarf. It can make or break an outfit, you know.’

Gwen raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m sure it can. Just not one of mine.’ She glanced down at her plain grey skirt and serviceable beige blouse, which she’d run up from material she’d found at Ridley Road market.

‘Yes, even yours.’ Miriam tapped her on the arm. ‘Something in dark green would lift it. I have something I could lend you if you like.’

Gwen shook her head. ‘Thank you, but it would be wasted on me. You keep it. You’ll enjoy it more.’

They fell silent as they passed the shop fronts of Tottenham Court Road. There were still goods to buy but not as many as this time last year. There was an unspoken air of people going shopping while they still could. It was partly why Gwen had come. Even if she didn’t want anything, it was still a spectacle, and she didn’t know if or when she would be able to do so again. Like so many Londoners she was filled with a sense of deep foreboding.

A young couple got on and sat a few seats in front of them. The young man wore the uniform of the RAF, and the girl looked as if she had been crying as her eyes were red and puffy. She clung to his arm and looked imploringly up into his face. They were too far away for Gwen to hear what they were saying, but it wasn’t hard to guess.

She caught Miriam’s gaze.

Miriam shifted in her seat. ‘Did I tell you what I have decided to do?’

‘I don’t think so.’

Miriam nodded in determination. ‘I’m joining the WVS.’

‘The Women’s Voluntary Services?’

‘Yes, exactly.’ Miriam’s face was serious. ‘I am tired of hearing the news and feeling I’m doing nothing.’

‘But you’re always so busy,’ Gwen pointed out. ‘You’ve opened your house to families escaping Hitler.’

Miriam shrugged. ‘The families are no trouble – this new couple don’t have children, and they see to themselves most of the time. I have plenty of spare hours and I want to do something worthwhile with them. They need people who are organised and prepared to turn their hand to anything, so I thought I might fit in.’

‘Well, I should think they’d welcome you with open arms,’ Gwen said decisively. ‘You must let me know how you get on. If I can help, I will, but I won’t be able to join full time or anything like that. We’re going to be even busier from now on.’

‘Really?’ Miriam asked. ‘Do you know something I don’t about what’s happening over in France or Germany?’

Gwen realised her friend had misunderstood. ‘No, I meant at the home. We’re taking on two more newly qualified district nurses. These ones are Irish. They start as soon as we can sort out their accommodation.’

Miriam looked surprised. ‘I thought your home was full?’

‘It is,’ said Gwen, ‘but the woman who owns one of the flats next door has told us she’s going to live with her sister, and she’s given us first refusal on renting it from her. Fiona says we’d be silly to turn down the chance. It’s only small but it has two rooms. They don’t need a living room, as they can share our common room and canteen. It’s ideal, even if highly irregular. I don’t say I approve of bending the rules like that but, as long as Fiona’s happy, who am I to say no? She’s in charge.’

Miriam nodded in assent. ‘These aren’t normal times, are they? I could be wrong and I hope I am, but you might need every pair of hands available soon.’

Gwen stared out of the window, as the bus went past Sadler’s Wells. ‘I’d love you to be wrong, I really would,’ she said, ‘but I have a horrible feeling you aren’t.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘Look, there’s Billy,’ said Peggy, tugging on Edith’s arm as they rounded the corner to the Duke’s Arms. ‘Doesn’t he walk well now? You’d never think he’d been in that awful accident before Christmas, would you?’

Edith waved as Billy glanced along the street and saw the group of young women. ‘That’s nice, we can go in with him,’ she said. Once she wouldn’t have thought twice about going into a pub on her own, but that was when she had been young and carefree. Meeting Harry had steadied her – that and a year of district nursing. ‘He was lucky, though,’ she went on. ‘His leg has healed properly and he doesn’t have a trace of a limp. If he’d got an infection it would have been a different story.’

Belinda, walking just behind them with Mary, joined in. ‘Why? What happened?’

‘Oh, of course, it was before you came,’ said Edith. ‘Billy saw a car careering out of control down the high road and heading straight for a woman and her baby in a pram, so he threw them all into a doorway and saved their lives. The car hit him and broke his leg. Alice was the first nurse on the scene and she said it could all have been so much worse if he hadn’t been there.’

‘Goodness.’ Belinda looked with respect at the young man now walking towards them. ‘He must be very brave.’

Peggy nodded. ‘He wanted to join up but he’s got flat feet. Just as well, though, or he wouldn’t have been walking along at just the right time, and Kath and little Brian would be dead.’

‘Oh, so you know the woman?’ Belinda asked.

‘Yes, she’s our friend. She was all shook up about it but wasn’t really hurt. A few cuts and bruises, that was that. Now we all think Billy’s a hero. And he went over on one of them little boats to Dunkirk.’

‘Did he?’ said Belinda, her eyes glinting with interest.

Billy tugged at the lapels of his jacket as he strode towards the women. ‘Evening, ladies.’ He grinned broadly. ‘What a lovely evening it is an’ all. How you doing, Peggy?’ he asked his old friend with concern.

‘Not so bad, Billy.’ Peggy smiled gamely, pushing her hand through her light brown hair. ‘Me and Edie thought it was time we showed our faces in public again, and we brought along Mary – you know each other, don’t you? – and this is Belinda.’

‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Billy, offering his hand, which Belinda shook. ‘Are you a nurse too?’

‘I am,’ said Belinda. ‘I’ve been at the same home as Edith and Mary since January, but I’ve never been to the Duke’s Arms before.’

‘Well, you’re in for a treat,’ Billy promised. ‘I arranged to meet a couple of mates from the docks and they’re bringing some others, so we’ll make a proper night of it.’ He waved his arm to usher them forward, then dropped back to speak to Edith in a quiet voice. ‘You all right, Edie? Not too soon to come out after … well, you know?’

Edith took a deep breath. In all honesty she was feeling rather shaky, but she was determined not to show it. She didn’t want to ruin her friends’ evening out. ‘No, I’m doing well, thanks, Billy,’ she said as steadily as she could. ‘I’ll take it easy, and if I feel like going home before the others then I will. But thank you for asking.’

Billy nodded solemnly. ‘I’ll walk you back if you like.’

Edith smiled at him in gratitude. ‘We’ll see how we go.’

Billy’s colleagues were gathered around a wooden table and bench in the beer garden, taking advantage of the warmth of the evening sun. He hurried to make the introductions. ‘This is Ronald, and this is Kenny,’ he said. ‘We were all down the same warehouse this morning and they fancied seeing my neck of the woods.’

‘Didn’t tell us that you had such lovely lady friends, though,’ said Ronald, the taller one, with a kindly face. ‘Kept that under your hat, you did, Billy.’

Peggy stepped forward a little. ‘We didn’t tell him we was coming,’ she said. ‘We kept it as a surprise, though we thought he would be here.’

Edith watched her friend with a hint of amazement. She herself was in no mood for talking pertly to a group of strange men, even if they were Billy’s mates. She couldn’t imagine flirting with anyone ever again. But perhaps this was Peggy’s way of coping.

‘Then we’re lucky twice over,’ smiled Ronald. ‘And this here’s my brother, Alfie. He’s not one of us from the warehouse, as you can see.’ He indicated a man with tightly cropped sandy hair, in Royal Air Force uniform, who turned to acknowledge the newcomers.

‘Hello,’ he said, and his voice was pure East End, just like his brother’s. ‘Yes, got a spot of leave so came to see my kid brother. Brought along my mate Laurence, as he’s so far from home.’

Another man turned to the group, his uniform jacket over his arm. ‘Hello, ladies,’ he said, his accent immediately marking him out. ‘Thanks for brightening our evening.’

Mary perked up. ‘I say, are you Canadian?’

Laurence’s eyes crinkled in appreciation. ‘Got it in one. Must say I’m impressed. Most folks think I’m from the States.’

‘Oh, it was a lucky guess,’ said Mary.

Edith smiled to herself. Before her colleague had met Charles, she had been extremely keen on going dancing to meet Canadians. She could see that this particular Canadian liked Mary’s attention – but then, plenty of men took notice of her friend’s curves.

‘Where are you stationed?’ asked Belinda.

Billy and Edith looked sharply at her. Everyone knew that it was best to say as little in public as possible when it came to such matters, as you never knew who might be listening. There was even a new poster out from the government, warning that ‘Careless Talk Costs Lives’. Belinda registered their disapproval and hastily explained. ‘I mean, my brother is in the RAF and I know it’s a long shot but maybe you know him. He was meant to be in London this weekend and I was looking forward to seeing him, but he wasn’t able to make it in the end.’

Edith noted with relief that she hadn’t said why. A call had come through to say his leave had been cancelled. Gwen had been cross that the home’s single telephone had been used for a personal message, but their superintendent, Fiona, ruled that it was allowable in such circumstances as long as the message was kept brief.

‘Suppose we might. What’s his name?’ asked Laurence.

‘David. David Adams,’ Belinda replied, but both men shook their heads.

‘But if we bump into him in the future we’ll say we met you,’ offered Alfie, picking up on her disappointment.

She shrugged, and her tight black curls caught the evening sun. ‘I know it was a bit unlikely,’ she said. Rallying again, she turned to Laurence. ‘So, where have you visited so far?’

He smiled easily and even Edith admitted to herself he was very good-looking. ‘Well, my mother’s from Scotland and so when I first got here I went to see my long-lost relatives up near Edinburgh. But for the rest of the time I’ve been down south. Alfie here took me to Brighton yesterday but it wasn’t how we imagined it.’

‘No,’ said Alfie. ‘For a start you aren’t allowed on the beach now. Even the streets near the sea have a curfew, so you can’t go down the seaside pubs after nine thirty. Put a bit of a kybosh on our plans.’

Peggy patted her hair. ‘All the more reason to enjoy tonight then,’ she suggested.

Billy met Edith’s gaze behind their friend’s back, and gave her a quizzical look. Edith gave him a little shrug. She didn’t know what Peggy’s game was either, but this wasn’t turning out to be the quiet night out she’d foreseen.

Laurence and Alfie offered to get in a round of drinks. Edith didn’t mind that; she only wanted half a shandy, and it was well known that the RAF men generally weren’t short of a bob or two. Peggy ordered a port and lemon, while Mary and Belinda chose lemonade.

‘They seem nice,’ Peggy said, coming over to her. ‘Makes a change, seeing new faces in here. Usually it’s full of people I’ve been to school with, or at least their brothers and sisters.’

‘Yes, but that’s why I like it,’ said Edith. ‘Not that I was at school with them all but … well, you know, Harry was, and so I felt like I had this new group of friends to count on. It was never like that where I came from.’

Peggy bit her lip. ‘I know. I’m only having a bit of fun. You don’t mind, do you? It feels as if I’ve been sitting in Pete’s mum’s front room for ever. It was driving me nuts. It’s a real breath of fresh air coming here again.’

Edith recognised that Peggy was dealing with her grief in a very different way, but didn’t want to blame her. ‘Of course not. I’m just not feeling very chatty yet. It’s nice to be out, so don’t mind me if I’m a bit quiet.’

Peggy’s face broke into a big smile. Then the RAF men returned and she hurried over to help hand round the glasses. She took her own and raised it. ‘Cheers!’ she said, beaming at Alfie and Laurence, then knocked back half of the gleaming purple drink in one go. ‘To having fun.’

‘Blimey,’ said Billy under his breath, yet loud enough that Edith heard, while Laurence raised his own pint and said, ‘To a fine evening, in the best city in England!’

‘To the best bit of the best city in England!’ said Peggy, and knocked back the rest of the port and lemon.

After a couple of hours, Edith was more than ready to go home. She’d tried her best, keeping up her end of the conversation when one of the others spoke to her, but it was an effort and her heart wasn’t in it. After a while she drifted to the edge of the group and watched them rather than joining in. Billy’s friends seemed nice enough, but she wasn’t remotely interested in getting to know them any better. What would be the point? She’d probably never see them again anyway.

Peggy, however, continued to accept the port and lemons, which the RAF men obligingly bought her, and to drink them down as if there was no tomorrow. Her voice grew louder and she laughed at everything they said, playing with her hair or shaking it loose around her shoulders. Edith was slightly shocked. She was no prude, but it was no time at all since Pete had died, and here was Peggy behaving as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Mary detached herself from the conversation she’d been having with Ronald and Kenny and came over. ‘You all right, Edie? You’ve gone quiet.’

Edith grinned awkwardly. ‘Just tired.’

Mary nodded. ‘Me too. Shall we go?’

Edith nodded, grateful that Mary had made the suggestion. As a point of pride she hadn’t wanted to say anything, but the light was beginning to fade and she wasn’t keen to stumble back in the blackout. Besides, she simply didn’t have any energy left to socialise. She longed for her bed in her little attic room, where she wouldn’t have to speak to anyone.

‘Would you mind?’ she said.

‘Not a bit. I’ll see what Belinda wants to do.’

After a brief chat with Belinda, and a word or two with Billy, Mary came back and told Edith: ‘Belinda wants to stay longer, but Billy said he’d make sure she gets back all right. I’ve said goodbye on your behalf, so we can leave whenever you like.’

Edith sighed with relief. ‘Let’s go right now. No point in hanging around. Thanks, Mary.’ She shrugged into her bolero and drew it around her. ‘Come on, we can go out the back way.’ She linked her arm through her friend’s and they quietly made their way through the gate into the little lane behind the beer garden – where once Harry had led her, the night she’d realised he was the only man for her.

At breakfast the next morning, Belinda was last down, almost missing the porridge. Edith, who had been chatting to Alice, waved her over. ‘How was the rest of last night?’ she asked. ‘Did Billy walk you home like he said he would?’

Belinda looked guilty. ‘Yes, but I lost track of time and I missed the curfew. I didn’t realise it was after ten o’clock until he looked at his watch. I had to sneak past the front door and hope nobody was watching. I remembered what you used to do, though, and found the loose fence panel. I almost ripped my skirt getting through the gap – I’d hate to think what would have happened if I’d been any bigger. Mary said she’d leave a window open just in case and so I climbed in that way.’

Edith grinned. ‘Good job you’re so tall. I always needed help to reach the windowsill. I’d have been completely stuck on my own.’

‘I scraped my knee as it was,’ Belinda said ruefully. ‘Still, it was worth it. I really enjoyed myself and it took my mind off David. I’m trying not to think about what he’s doing, you see.’

Edith and Alice nodded in sympathy, although Alice had no brothers and sisters, and Edith wasn’t close to any of her brothers in the way Belinda evidently was.

‘Billy’s ever so nice, isn’t he?’ Belinda went on. ‘He had to come out of his way to bring me back. I assumed he must live near here when he offered but, no, his house is in the opposite direction, yet he swore he didn’t mind.’

Edith agreed. ‘He’s one of the kindest people I know. That’s typical of him.’ She watched Belinda with curiosity. Was there something more than friendly appreciation behind what she’d said? Had Billy taken her fancy? Belinda had never talked about a boyfriend so perhaps it was possible. Edith decided not to mention the complication of Kathleen.

‘Anyway, Peggy certainly seemed to enjoy herself,’ Belinda continued. ‘She and that Canadian airman got on like a house on fire. I think she’s going to see him again.’

Alice raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Really? Isn’t that a bit soon?’

Edith pulled a face. ‘Well, I’d have thought so, but if that’s her way of getting over Pete then I don’t suppose we can blame her. Perhaps it’s just a bit of fun.’

‘What’s he like?’ Alice asked.

‘Very good-looking,’ Belinda said at once. ‘Dark hair, dark eyes, easy to talk to. Generous as well – he bought everyone drinks all night.’

‘Yes, you couldn’t fault him for that,’ Edith agreed, remembering all the port and lemons Peggy had had.

Alice picked up on the tone of her friend’s voice. ‘But what? Didn’t you like him, Edie?’

‘No, it’s not that.’ Edith stopped to think about her impressions of Laurence. Everything Belinda said was true, and yet there was something about him she hadn’t warmed to. Was it the way he had eyed up Mary when they’d arrived? Then again, she was hardly in the mood to start taking an interest in men. ‘I’m just being silly, pay me no notice. I didn’t really speak to him enough to say either way.’

Alice glanced at her sceptically but Belinda didn’t see. ‘Well, I thought he was a bit of a catch. I don’t suppose he’ll be around for long, though. They’re based down on the south coast somewhere, so they’re bound to go back there soon and that’ll be that.’

Edith got up, clearing her plate and cup. ‘I expect you’re right.’ But she couldn’t shake that faint feeling of unease.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘You’re getting too big for this!’ Kathleen exclaimed, lifting her son into his pram, which had seemed so huge when she’d first got it. Brian beamed up at her, his face now almost chubby. He still fitted in but gone were the days when she could easily sit him at one end and a bag of shopping at the other. It was finally being able to give him proper food that had made the difference.

Kathleen had struggled when he had been a small baby, with scarcely any money to feed the pair of them and make ends meet. If it hadn’t been for her best friend Mattie insisting that she came round to the Banhams’ house so often, they would have been in deep trouble. Then Ray had joined the merchant navy and some of his wages found their way back home, which had helped. Kathleen automatically rubbed her wrist and arm at the mere thought of him. She was never going to forget the way he’d hurt her, throwing her to the floor and all because she’d needed to feed Brian before paying attention to him. She had loved Ray with all her heart, even more so because her family had been so against the match. It had taken that day when he’d come home and she’d feared he would attack his own son to make her fully realise the sort of man he was.

Now he was dead, lost at Dunkirk along with so many others. Plenty would say he was a hero, and she supposed he was. At least she could tell Brian that his father had died for a noble cause. She would try to hold on to that, rather than the cold truth of Ray the wife-beater, jealous of his own son. While one part of her still longed for the passion they had shared, a greater part felt nothing but relief. He could never hurt either of them again.

Yet she blamed herself for not mourning him more deeply. He had been her husband, after all. Shouldn’t she feel terrible, as if life had no meaning, that she’d never be the same again? Like poor Edith did. The guilt was eating away inside her. She knew she was avoiding her friends, those who wanted to help her, like the Banhams and Billy. Especially Billy.

He’d always been so kind to her and come to her rescue more than once, very discreetly lending her money when he correctly suspected she had no other way of paying the rent. She’d been too proud to tell anyone just how bad her financial problems were, but somehow he had known. That was before he had saved her from the speeding car with its drunk driver. She and Brian would have been badly hurt, even killed, and he hadn’t thought twice. So really she should show him just how grateful she was.

However, the more she acknowledged how she felt, the worse the guilt became. She’d failed to see what a good man Billy was and had been taken in by Ray’s shallow charm. More fool her. Now she was too confused to know what to do.

‘Off we go,’ she said, forcing herself to sound bright and encouraging, not wanting Brian to glimpse the darkness inside her. She manoeuvred the heavy pram down the narrow pavement of Jeeves Place, waving to her old neighbour Mrs Bishop who sometimes babysat, dodging the broken slabs on the corner, and headed for Ridley Road market.

No matter how miserable she was, Kathleen usually enjoyed the bustle of the market, where many of the stallholders knew her, and some even saved little treats for Brian. He would sit up straighter in his pram when they drew near to the best fruit and vegetable stall and start to wave his arms when he caught sight of the man who ran it. Sure enough, today the man came around to the front of his stall, still piled high with colourful produce despite all the difficulties of the war. At least fruit and veg weren’t rationed. ‘How’s my favourite customer today?’ he asked, bending down to Brian’s level, and Brian squealed in delight.

‘He’s giving me no end of trouble, growing so fast,’ Kathleen laughed, pleased to see that Brian didn’t mind relative strangers. He was becoming a sociable little boy. That was exactly what she wanted. He hadn’t been around his aggressive father enough to taste real fear.

The stallholder reached into his pocket and drew out a shiny apple. ‘This will put colour in your cheeks,’ he said solemnly to the child. Brian immediately reached for it and beamed as he held it, fascinated by the bright colour and delicious smell.

‘Good boy,’ said Kathleen, reaching around. ‘Now you give it to Mummy to keep safe and you can have it when we get home.’ She didn’t want him taking big bites out of it when she couldn’t see him or he might choke.

Brian didn’t object and she turned her attention to the business in hand, buying ingredients for the next couple of days. It was a sad truth that receiving a pension as Ray’s widow meant she had money coming in more regularly than ever before. It wasn’t a fortune, but it was so much better than hoping for handouts from him, never knowing when they would come – or if at all. She and Brian had never eaten so well. Kathleen was clever at making something out of nearly nothing, having had to do so out of sheer necessity for so long, and now she found they could eat like kings if she budgeted carefully. Thanking the stallholder for his help, she loaded her bulging bag on to the wire basket beneath the pram, and made her way down the crowded thoroughfare to the stall which sold grains.

‘Shall we get some oats for your porridge?’ she asked Brian. ‘And pearl barley too,’ she said to the new stallholder. Barley stew was something she made a lot of; it was filling, and nourishing, and safe for Brian with his new teeth. She propped the big paper bag of it at the bottom of the pram. ‘Now you keep your feet away from it,’ she instructed her son, mock sternly.

The stallholder laughed. ‘He’ll be big enough to kick that soon,’ he observed.

‘It’s all your good food,’ Kathleen replied, thankful as she’d seen he had added a little extra to the bag before fastening it. That left only the fish stall. As meat was rationed, she had taken to buying fish when she could, but that meant coming more often as she had nowhere to keep it fresh.

Turning back into the fray of busy shoppers, some with small children tugging on their mothers’ coats, she became aware of a strange sensation, almost like a prickling at the back of her neck. She rubbed her scarf, hastily flung on earlier that morning. She must be imagining things. Frowning, she drew up at the fish stall and joined the small queue. Clarrie’s sister, who she knew slightly, was just ahead of her, and they passed the time while they waited.

‘And how are you getting on?’ asked the young woman, who had hair the exact same shade of red as Clarrie. ‘I heard about your husband. I know Peggy’s proper cut up about Pete, and I’m sorry you are on your own now.’

‘Oh, not too bad, thank you for asking,’ Kathleen said hurriedly. ‘This little one keeps me going. You have to carry on, don’t you?’

The woman nodded. ‘Well, I think you’re very brave,’ she said. ‘Oh, two fillets please.’ She turned to pay the fishmonger and Kathleen sighed with relief. She could not say what she really meant: she was glad Ray was dead.

She waved goodbye to Clarrie’s sister as she reached the head of the queue. The fishmonger recognised her and chatted easily as he took her order, making sure she got a good fillet and wrapping it carefully. Kathleen was pleased. That would be enough for her to eat simply grilled, with a little left over to break up and mash into potato for Brian. He wasn’t keen on fish on its own yet. She began to daydream about when he might be old enough to enjoy fish and chips as she pushed the pram back down between the stalls towards the main road.

There it was again, that strange prickling at the back of her neck. Kathleen turned round in puzzlement. A movement several stalls away caught her eye and she squinted in the bright sunshine to make out what it was. A figure had gone behind a striped awning but now appeared to be standing still. From what she could see of the person’s clothes, it was a man. He moved a little but did not step into the pathway between the stalls. It was almost as if he was teasing her.

He swayed towards the edge of the stall and then back again. This was silly, she told herself. What grown man would play games like this? She was seeing trouble where there was none. She moved to the next stall and examined the bolts of fabric, more for the pleasure of enjoying their contrasting patterns than with the intention of buying anything.

Just as she was about to turn around and resume her journey home, the man reappeared, but backlit by the sunshine she could not make out any definite details. He seemed to take a step towards her and then moved back into the shadow of the awning. It was very peculiar, to say the least.

Kathleen stood still as the crowds milled around her. What was all that about? Was he having a stupid bit of fun, or was he following her for some more sinister reason? Shaking her head, she told herself not to be fanciful. She had to get back to her dingy rooms on Jeeves Place and cook the fish before the heat of the day spoiled it. She didn’t have time to worry about men behaving oddly. She would put his strange behaviour straight out of her mind.

Yet as she pushed the pram along the main road, heavier now with all its shopping, the kernel of worry would not be dislodged.

Gladys flapped her duster out of the common-room window, careful to avoid two of the nurses who were propping their bikes in the cycle rack at the side of the yard. The dust rose in a puff, the air almost still and very warm. She glanced up at the sky, wondering if she might catch sight of any of the brave aircraft heading to the coast or Channel to defend the country from the Luftwaffe, in what was being described as the Battle of Britain. She wondered if she would have had the courage to be a pilot if she’d been a man. Sometimes she wished she could do more, something directly useful.

‘Penny for them.’ Alice stood right behind her.

Gladys wheeled around and almost banged her head on the window frame. ‘Oooh, you startled me.’ She still had to bite her lip not to call Alice ‘Miss’. Old habits died hard. ‘I was just looking for any planes. They must be up there somewhere. Going off to – what do they call them? – the dogfights.’

Alice came to stand beside her at the window and gazed into the cloudless blue. ‘Perhaps they’re further south. Or over Kent. It’s hard to say. But that’s where the dogfights are happening, apparently.’

Gladys nodded and then cleared her throat. ‘I been meaning to ask. How’s Edith? She’s so quiet around the place, I don’t like to speak to her direct.’

Alice took a moment. ‘She’s going to be all right,’ she said slowly. ‘She wouldn’t mind if you spoke to her, you know. She’s keeping going. The work helps.’

‘I can understand that.’ Gladys twisted her duster in her hands. ‘It’s so important, the work you all do.’

‘Well, so is yours,’ Alice pointed out. ‘We couldn’t manage if we didn’t have board and lodging all sorted out for us. It’s teamwork.’ She smiled but Gladys did not smile back.

‘I want to do more, Alice. I love going to the first-aid classes. I remember everything we’re taught. I wish I could read better and take exams and that.’

‘You’re improving so fast,’ Alice assured her, knowing that the young woman had hidden her shameful secret for years. Now she was finally learning she was making progress – but not enough yet to cope with nurses’ exams.

‘Anyway I can’t stop work to study. We need the cash, simple as that.’ Gladys grimaced. ‘Me ma can’t do without me wages, and I can always get home round the corner if something goes wrong with the little ones.’ It had been the burden of caring for her many younger siblings that had brought a halt to Gladys’s schooling in the first place.

‘If you keep up the reading and the first-aid course then something might come up,’ Alice ventured. ‘We don’t know what’s around the corner, but nurses will be needed even more than at the moment.’

‘Perhaps things will get easier when me sister is a bit older,’ Gladys replied, looking down at her feet as if she didn’t really believe it. ‘I was younger than she is now when I stopped everything to look after them. She helps a bit but not like what I had to. She’s a good girl though, doesn’t try to get out of her chores like some.’ She shook her head. It all seemed impossibly far in the future and gave her a headache to think about it. She tried to change the subject. ‘Oooh, what’s that you got there, a letter?’

Alice’s hand went to her skirt pocket, where Gladys had noticed the corner of an envelope sticking out. ‘Yes, it came earlier.’ She broke into a grin. ‘It’s from Dermot. Do you remember him? The locum doctor who helped Dr Patcham out last autumn.’

Gladys took a moment to think who she was talking about. ‘The one everyone got in a tizz about? I didn’t meet him but I know all you nurses went into a flap every time he was mentioned. Didn’t some swap shifts so they could stand more chance of seeing him? There was a right to-do.’

Alice laughed. ‘Not me. I’ve known him for years. He was a trainee doctor when I began nursing, back home in Liverpool. But you’re right – the first thing anyone notices is his looks. Not that they’ll be much use to him at the moment.’ She drew out the letter and reread it. ‘He’s back from France, thank goodness, and survived more or less in one piece. Now he’s somewhere near Southampton at a guess, as he can’t say exactly, but hints that it’s not too far from where he was before. He’s got his hands full with casualties from the fighting overhead. Those dogfights that you were talking about, I expect.’

‘See, he’s doing something useful,’ Gladys said.

‘So are you,’ Alice reminded her. ‘Who knows, we might make a nurse of you yet.’

CHAPTER SIX

Peggy was sure her mother-in-law suspected something. The older woman hadn’t been waiting up for her when she’d come in late from the pub that time, hardly able to remember what she’d been saying or doing after all the port and lemons, but ever since then she’d been on the alert, even more keen to point out the smallest mistake. She always claimed it was for Peggy’s own good, so that she wouldn’t make the same error in the future, but Peggy was permanently on the verge of screaming.

She knew she’d given her address to Laurence before eventually leaving the pub, but vaguely recalled he was on leave and so might not be around for long. She hadn’t worried too much. It had been a fun evening and she would have loved to repeat it but, if it wasn’t to be, then that was that. She wasn’t going to pine away if he didn’t get in touch. That wasn’t what she’d been looking for.

Perhaps she should have made more of an effort to talk to Edith, Peggy thought with a flash of guilt. That was what the evening was meant to have been about. But Edith had brought two other nurses along and then they’d bumped into Billy with all his friends – it had grown into something else entirely. She vowed she would see Edith again on her own and then they could have the heart-to-heart she dearly wanted. The pain of missing Pete never left her, and whatever she now did or said didn’t begin to touch it. That sense of overwhelming loss was at her very core; everything else was on the surface, far away from what really mattered. Perhaps Edith would understand.

She’d been on the point of scribbling a message to leave at the home on Victory Walk when the letterbox opened and an envelope landed on the doormat. Swiftly she moved to pick it up. It was for her, in handwriting she didn’t recognise, loopy and forward-slanting. Peggy hurriedly jammed it into the handbag she’d left on the stairs, ready to take to work. She would read it when she got to the factory. Despite the scores of people there, it was easier to find a private moment than here in Mrs Cannon’s house.

Right on cue Pete’s mother called out from upstairs. ‘Was that the post, Peggy love?’

Peggy gritted her teeth but made her voice as neutral as she could. ‘I can’t see anything. It must have been the wind.’

There was a brief pause. ‘I could have sworn I heard something,’ said Mrs Cannon, appearing at the top of the stairs, a fresh print overall on to greet the new day.

‘There’s nothing there,’ Peggy assured her truthfully. ‘Were you expecting anything?’

Mrs Cannon’s face fell. ‘No, dear. Not any more.’

Peggy immediately felt a rush of new guilt. She knew Mrs Cannon missed her son dreadfully and yet she couldn’t bear to think about it or it would open the floodgates of her own grief. Pete’s letters had been something they had been able to share, but there would be no more of them.

The older woman visibly pulled herself together, straightening her shoulders and smoothing down the cotton of her overall. ‘Well, I’ll see you later then,’ she said, in a voice that must have been intended to sound bright but which was so full of sadness that Peggy couldn’t bear it.

‘Yes, I’m just going to write a quick note then I’ll be off to work,’ she said, grabbing her bag and ducking around the corner of the corridor so that she wouldn’t have to witness Mrs Cannon’s brave attempt at normality, because it was all too painfully close to her own.

‘We gave Jerry’s planes a pasting last night,’ said one of the sailors as he made his way up the gangplank to board his vessel. ‘Sent ’em back where they came from good and proper.’ He waved to the dock workers who were lined up ready to deal with the cargo.

Billy rolled back his sleeves and prepared to move the first lot of crates. Sometimes his leg gave him trouble when he had to deal with heavy weights, but he wasn’t going to admit that. He was dog tired after having been on shift half the night but he wasn’t going to admit that either.

‘That’s good news, then,’ said Ronald, coming up beside him. ‘Help me with this one, will you?’

Billy grunted in assent and took one side of the big crate, while Ronald manoeuvred his corner onto the trolley to drag it towards the warehouse. ‘Suppose so,’ he managed, as they set the big wooden box down.

‘Warm one today,’ Ronald went on, wiping his forehead with his dusty hanky. ‘What I wouldn’t give to be sitting around on me arse doing nothing. Like that lot.’ He tipped his head towards a small group of men who weren’t even bothering to watch all the activity, let alone come across to help. Ronald spat onto the sawdust floor. ‘Makes me sick. They might as well join up; they’re a fat lot of use round here.’

Billy looked up at his taller friend. ‘It’s true, you got a point there.’

Ronald shrugged. ‘That one – what’s his name, Bertie – seems to have it in for you.’

Billy laughed grimly. ‘It’s cos he got drunk and drove into me leg, and almost killed me friend and her little boy. Then he blames her for him being slammed in the nick for a bit. Not for long enough, if you ask me.’

‘Longer the better,’ agreed Ronald, pushing his hanky back into his trouser pocket, frayed where it had caught on the rough wood of the crates. ‘All the same, he don’t half bear a grudge. He was going on about her the other day, nasty piece of work that he is.’

‘He’s just trying to make himself sound more important than he is – and that’s not hard,’ Billy said.

Ronald thought about it for a moment. ‘Could be – he likes to strut about like he’s cock of the walk, and for no good reason,’ he conceded. ‘All the same, he’s up to something. Wish I could say what but I can’t.’

‘Should I warn Kath?’ Billy asked. ‘I can’t very well go worrying her if we don’t know what it’s all about, can I? That would be no help at all.’

Ronald spread his hands. ‘Wouldn’t hurt to go round and check on her, would it? You seen her recently?’

‘No,’ Billy admitted. He’d kept to his resolution to give her some space, to let her grieve for that bastard Ray Berry, and not to pester her, even though the effort of staying away had cut him to the quick.

‘Why not pop round, just friendly like, and don’t say anything in particular, just see if she’s doing all right,’ Ronald suggested. ‘Look, there’s the boss. We’d better get to that next crate.’

Billy nodded. ‘Fair enough.’ His mind was racing. He could not let Bertie attempt to hurt Kath again. He’d be doing her a favour if he dropped round, just like old times. It was a happy coincidence that it matched what he wanted to do more than anything.

Peggy hummed to herself as she put away her overall in her locker and shook out her hair from its protective scarf. When Pete had been alive she used to lighten it with lemon juice in the summer, but lately she hadn’t bothered. Now maybe she might start again, if there were any lemons to be had. She brought out the little mirror she kept tucked in the side zip of her handbag and pouted at herself in the reflection. Not looking too bad, she decided, given what she’d been through recently.

‘You’re cheerful today,’ Clarrie observed, arching a carefully shaped eyebrow at her. Peggy noticed her friend had managed to use a brown pencil to taper the brows, as she hated her naturally red tone; it was all right on her head of hair, but not her brows, she always moaned.

Peggy shrugged noncommittally. It was true, she was fizzing inside after reading her surprise letter, but she wasn’t going to tell anyone why, not even her oldest friend. She had a feeling Clarrie wouldn’t understand. ‘Sun’s out, sky is blue,’ she said vaguely. ‘I can’t be miserable all the time, can I?’

Clarrie nodded approvingly. ‘That’s the spirit. That sounds like the old Peggy is on her way back.’ She grinned mischievously. ‘Don’t suppose it was anything to do with that piece of paper I caught you looking at before dinnertime?’

Peggy almost blurted out a shocked reply but gathered her wits quickly. ‘Oh, I wrote a note to Edie to ask her out on Friday to the Duke’s Arms, so we can have a bit of a chat,’ she said easily. That was true, insofar as it went, but it had been a different piece of paper. She’d delivered the note that morning before arriving at the factory. She’d been reading her letter just before their dinner break.

‘What a good idea. Shall I come?’ Clarrie asked. ‘I’ve been wondering how she’s been getting on.’

‘Let’s wait to see what she says,’ Peggy said quickly. ‘She might just want a heart-to-heart. I’ll let you know.’

Clarrie nodded. ‘Got to dash. I promised Ma I’d try to get some tripe on the way home and the place will shut in fifteen minutes.’ She sped off.

Peggy gave her friend a little wave and then her thoughts returned to the contents of the letter. It had been from Laurence and was very flattering. Best night he’d had for ages. Didn’t realise London had such pretty girls. Would she do him the honour of meeting up again, just the two of them this time? He’d suggested a pub closer to the centre of town, but Peggy knew she could get there with just one change of bus.

It wasn’t as if she was being unfaithful to the memory of Pete. This was just a bit of fun, a way of getting out of the house and having a respite from sitting eye-to-eye with Mrs Cannon. It didn’t mean she missed Pete any the less. It was just so tempting to hear someone, especially someone as good-looking as Laurence, tell her she was pretty when she felt so withered and empty inside. It was a little plaster over the top of a deep wound, nothing more.

She debated saying no, claiming she had to be up early for work, which was true, or that she shouldn’t because of her recent bereavement. Yet she knew she could do her work without thinking – she’d done so often enough when out courting with Pete. And why would she even tell Laurence about her husband? This was just a bit of fun.

Pushing her conscience to one side, she decided to accept.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Billy rounded the corner to Jeeves Place, turning over in his mind what he would say. He’d had a couple of days to think about it, as he hadn’t been able to come round immediately after the conversation with Ronald. He’d been exhausted after working at night and then going straight to a day’s graft at the docks for a start. He also wanted to say the right thing, to somehow encourage Kathleen to be vigilant without scaring her unduly. But now, as he approached her door, he still hadn’t decided exactly what to say.

All he knew was, he was desperate to see her. It felt like years, even though it had been more like weeks. Every moment away from her was too long. When he was with her, time sped by. Even though he yearned to hold her and protect her, just being in her company would be enough, or at least for now.

Yet he hesitated, his hand raised above the letterbox which Kathleen had clearly polished recently. His heart ached at all the attempts she made to make her home look nice for little Brian, even though it was only two small ground-floor rooms with poor daylight and a noisy family upstairs. She couldn’t have shown more love and pride if it had been a palace.

Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the door.

It swung open immediately. ‘Oh, Billy, it’s you.’

Kathleen looked relieved and yet her smile was reserved, not the wide welcoming grin he’d grown used to. ‘I could see someone was out there and wondered who it was. You better come in.’

‘Expecting someone else, was you?’ Billy asked anxiously, not wanting to intrude and yet immediately on his guard as to who it might be.

‘No, no.’ She moved inside and he followed her, into the dimness of the small living room with its single bed pushed up against the far wall, everything immaculate as ever but still shabby. ‘Time for a cuppa?’

Billy nodded at once. ‘As long as I’m not interrupting – is the nipper asleep yet?’ He cast his eyes towards Brian’s cot, but the little boy was sitting up, and he waved his arms and called out when he saw who it was.

Billy went over and tousled his hair. ‘Only me, Brian.’

Brian sat back down from where he’d pulled himself up on the bars and, satisfied, began to play with his teddy again. Billy nodded to himself, pleased the boy hadn’t forgotten him. He sat at the wooden table near the window and watched as Kathleen busied herself. Her quick, neat movements never failed to make him catch his breath, as she took the milk from its cooler and set aside the small piece of muslin she used to cover it to keep out the flies. Then he remembered what he had in his pocket.

‘Got some biscuits,’ he said awkwardly, reaching inside his jacket and pulling out the packet.

Kathleen turned. ‘Oh, you shouldn’t have. They’re like hen’s teeth these days.’

Billy grinned and handed them to her, watching as she set them out on a plate. ‘Well, what’s the use of working down the docks if you can’t get some treats?’ Seeing her expression change he hurried to reassure her. ‘No, no, they’re legit. I got a tip-off from me mate who knew which shop down Limehouse they was going to.’

Kathleen let out a breath. ‘I didn’t mean … I know you wouldn’t do nothing wrong, Billy. But you hear such stories these days. I don’t want to get you in trouble.’

‘Can the boy have one?’ Billy asked.

‘Maybe a half. I don’t want to spoil his supper. Anyway, he can’t go getting a taste for these things, they’re too hard to come by,’ Kathleen said ruefully, as Billy broke a biscuit in two and gave half to Brian.

‘See, he likes it.’ Billy watched him fondly. How could Ray have failed to love his son? He was the sunniest little boy, hardly ever complaining, despite the grim conditions he’d often had to endure. Billy sat back in his chair. ‘So, Kath, how you been?’

Kathleen sat carefully down opposite him. ‘Oh, you know. All right.’ She smiled but cautiously.

‘Been seeing much of Mattie?’ he asked. ‘She must be quite a way along now.’

Kathleen brightened up. ‘She is, the baby’s due around the end of September. I been round there helping out, what with her being so big and Joe away and …’ She stopped.

Billy sighed and voiced the inevitable. ‘And no Harry any more.’

Kathleen bit her lip. ‘No Harry. No.’

A silence stretched between them. Billy was unsure how to broach the topic he knew he had to bring up, all the more so because he could sense Kathleen’s tension. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel under threat. Then Kathleen gave him the perfect opening.

‘Sorry I was a bit jumpy when you came, Billy,’ she said, rubbing her hand across her forehead. ‘It wasn’t cos I didn’t want to see you, you know that. It’s just … it’s the silliest thing. I was down the market and I thought a man was acting strange, sort of lurking in the background. Hanging around the stalls he was …’

‘He didn’t do nothing to hurt you, did he, Kath?’ Billy burst out, his blood boiling at the very idea.

Kathleen shook her head. ‘No, nothing like that. He didn’t even say anything. He sort of came out from behind a stall and went back into the shadows a couple of times. Not normal but that was all.’

Billy frowned. ‘You sure that was all?’ He knew Kathleen would always seek to downplay anything bad that happened to her, rather than worry anybody. She’d put up with Ray’s mistreatment for ages before it became too obvious to hide. He couldn’t bear it if she was hiding something now.

‘Really, Billy, that was all it was. I’m probably making something out of nothing, so don’t mind me.’ She tried to smile to take the edge off her words.

Billy nodded slowly. ‘All right. Fair enough. But Kath, if you see or hear something more, anything at all, you let me know, all right?’ Suddenly his voice was full of intensity. ‘It don’t matter if it’s day or night, you get word to me. If I’m on shift then Stan or Flo will know where I am. I’m not having any—’ He bit back the word he wanted to use as he realised Brian was taking an interest in what he was saying. ‘Any strange man interfering with your safety. You been through enough.’ Without thinking, he rubbed his injured leg.

Kath at once grew alarmed. ‘Your leg still hurting you, Billy? After all this time?’

Billy swiftly folded his arms. ‘No, just habit. It don’t bother me at all now. Think nothing of it.’ He finished his tea. ‘Look, I better be going. I don’t want to hold up the boy’s supper, or yours either for that matter, and I got to be on duty later on.’ He rose to go and Kathleen rose with him.

‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘Sorry again for being all jumpy.’ She smiled but kept the table between them, before turning and opening the door. ‘See you again, Billy.’

He took a step towards her then, recognising her reticence, went no further. ‘Yes, hope so, Kath. And you remember what I said. Day or night, you let me know if you need me.’ He could hardly keep the pain out of his voice as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He was desperate to draw her close, to enfold her safely – but he could tell that was not what she wanted at all.

She nodded. ‘I won’t forget,’ she said softly.

Kathleen shut the door and leant against it, shutting her eyes for a brief moment. She had seen the longing in Billy’s eyes but could do nothing about it. She was torn between the urge to accept all he was so clearly ready to offer and the suffocating guilt that it was too soon after Ray’s death. It was so much worse because she wasn’t sorry Ray had died. She should be grieving, as were so many others – for husbands, lovers, sons and brothers. Edith and the Banhams were mourning Harry with every waking breath, and yet she was secretly glad she was free of her violent husband.

Nobody must know how she felt. It had to remain her secret. Brian must never suspect the sort of man his father had truly been. The shame of it all flooded through her again, that she should have been reduced to that mangled heap on the floor, that she had misread the man’s character so completely. It would kill her if anyone found out what she felt deep down.

So all she could do was keep Billy at a distance, because the love she saw in his eyes threatened to undo her and break her resolve. She couldn’t let it happen. Better he thought she had stopped caring than he knew the truth – even if it cost her what she longed for most.

Peggy glanced around the interior of the pub. It wasn’t quite what she had expected. Somehow she had imagined that Laurence would have a taste for the good things in life, after he had appeared to have money to spend so liberally on drinks for a group of people he hardly knew. This place could not be described as luxurious. It was even a bit rundown, if she was honest, but she made up her mind not to be disappointed. He had probably chosen it because of its convenient location, halfway between the station where his train would pull in and where she lived.

It wasn’t as if she was out to snare a rich husband either. Nothing could have been further from her mind, although she knew some of the women she worked with were targeting airmen as they were most likely to have plenty of cash. This was solely to escape from everything that now weighed her down. She took in the sight of the other customers. There were plenty of young men in uniform, but mostly army rather than RAF. There were equal numbers of young women and older men, some who had perhaps come straight from work, as she herself had. She’d taken the precaution of telling Mrs Cannon that she might stay at Clarrie’s so the older woman would not wait up for her. Not that she intended to stay out, but she didn’t fancy a grilling about where she’d been and with whom.

There was no sign of Laurence yet. Peggy was not sure if he was staying in London or coming up from his airfield that day, and she’d heard that the trains were now often delayed and so it was nothing to worry about. She knew the sensible thing to do would be to find a table and sit there to wait for him, but she was in a reckless mood. She elbowed her way to the bar, its deep wood surface marked with scores of rings from where glasses had stood. The bar staff at the Duke’s Arms would never have stood for that, but this place evidently had different standards.

There was a middle-aged man serving at one end, his thinning hair combed unconvincingly across his pink scalp. Peggy looked away before he could meet her eye. She didn’t fancy getting stuck in conversation with him. Then, from around the other side of the bar, a youngish woman appeared, older than Peggy but with a far friendlier demeanour than the barman. ‘Evening,’ she said brightly, her big brass necklace flashing in the beams of the overhead lights. ‘What can I get you?’

Again Peggy thought of the sensible choices, lemonade or ginger beer. ‘Port and lemon please,’ she said decisively.

‘Port and lemon coming up.’ The barmaid reached for a glass, held it up to the light and hurriedly wiped it with a tea towel. ‘Your first time in here, is it?’

Peggy nodded. ‘I’m meeting a friend.’

The barmaid raised an eyebrow. ‘A male friend, might that be?’

‘He’s in the air force,’ Peggy told her eagerly. ‘He’s a pilot.’

The woman pulled a face. ‘Is he now? We get some of them in here all right. Well, don’t go getting too fond of him if you take my meaning.’

Peggy was confused. ‘Not sure I do. What do you mean?’ Now the woman was standing more closely Peggy could tell that she was older than she’d first appeared, with worry lines across her forehead and the beginnings of crow’s feet at the corner of her eyes.

The woman sighed. ‘Because they’re getting shot down like nobody’s business,’ she said brusquely. ‘Day after day, all those fights with Hitler’s planes. You can call it the Battle of Britain if you like, but all I see is customers who suddenly don’t show their faces again.’

Peggy bristled. ‘That’s not what they say on the news,’ she began, even though she often didn’t listen properly. It hadn’t saved Pete, after all.

‘I’m only giving you a friendly tip,’ said the barmaid. ‘You can be friends with whoever you like, no skin off my nose. But those boys have a habit of not coming back, so have a care.’

‘Enough of that, Marge, you’ll frighten her off,’ growled the man. ‘Don’t go saying such things in public.’

Marge tossed her head and the necklace flashed. ‘Still true though,’ she said. ‘You mark my words.’ She slammed the full glass on the counter, gave the barman a filthy look and disappeared around the corner of the bar to the snug.

Peggy took her drink and gave the money to the barman, who glared at her as if it was all her fault. She took a quick sip and turned, scanning the room for a table. There was one in the corner. Making her way across the saloon, she decided that the woman was jealous, probably because she was stuck with the miserable barman and couldn’t flirt with the pilots any more. Well, that wasn’t Peggy’s problem. Marge must have gone straight to the wireless as the sounds of the Andrews Sisters rose over the hubbub of chatter from the punters.

Taking her seat, Peggy toyed with her glass, knowing she had better not finish this drink too quickly. She ignored all the interested glances from the young lads in army uniform, or those from the men old enough to be her father. Dirty so-and-sos, she thought.

Finally, when she was over halfway through the port and lemon, there was a flash of movement and he was there beside her. Laurence, even more handsome than she remembered.

‘I’m so sorry I’m late,’ he said, in that relaxed accent that made her knees go weak. ‘Have you been waiting long? Here, let me get you another.’

Peggy beamed up at him and stood. ‘I don’t mind if I do,’ she said.

‘Got a moment?’ Edith stuck her head around Alice’s bedroom door. Her friend was sitting by the window to catch the last of the daylight, the sunset fading from bright gold to deep red over the rooftops. Her hair, swept up into a loose bun to keep it out of the way, picked up the golden highlights. In her hand was a letter. ‘Sorry, are you busy?’

‘No, no, come in.’ Alice folded the sheets of paper and tucked them back in their envelope. ‘It’s from Joe. I was only rereading it.’

Edith gave a small smile. Joe, Harry’s older brother, wrote frequently to Alice, and there had been plenty of their friends who took this to mean more than it actually did. Edith knew for a fact that most of their correspondence consisted of comments about books they had recently read and there was no romance to speak of. Alice was not looking for anything of that sort; she had had her heart broken once already and had no intention of repeating the devastating experience. Yet she and Joe had formed a close bond and Edith was glad for her friend, who otherwise would throw everything into her work.

‘How is he?’ she asked now, sitting on the neatly made bed, leaning back and stretching her feet. She groaned a little – they ached as she had cycled or walked for hours on end earlier that day, or that was what it felt like.

‘Lots going on, by the sounds of it.’ Alice raised her eyebrows. ‘Of course he doesn’t say where he is, but he does mention he’s just finished a novel by Eric Linklater. So my bet is he’s at Scapa Flow.’

Edith frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

‘Because that writer is from Orkney,’ Alice explained, a little embarrassed to be caught out knowing such details. ‘That’s where our big naval base is, so it would make sense if he was there. That’s my guess anyway. He sends his love.’

Edith nodded. ‘Send mine back.’ She was very fond of Joe, who was as reliable as Harry had been impetuous. From a distance they had looked very similar, but she had never had any doubt which brother she preferred. ‘I’ve had a letter too.’

‘Oh?’ Alice put down her envelope. ‘Not Peggy again?’

‘No. Well, yes actually, she left a note to suggest meeting this Friday but not in a crowd like before. That’s not why I wanted to talk to you, though.’ Her face twisted and Alice leant forward in concern. ‘It’s from one of my brothers.’

‘Your brothers?’ Alice sat up in amazement. Edith’s contacts with her family were few and far between, and in all the time she had known her, there had never been word from any of her brothers.

Edith nodded. ‘Yes. It’s from Mick – the one who’s only a couple of years younger than me. He’s had to join up, of course, and he’s back on leave for a few days. He says we should meet. I think he’s worried that our younger brother Frankie will try to join up too, even though he’s not old enough.’

Alice grimaced. ‘The way this war is going, Edie, he might well get his chance anyway. Sorry, that’s not fair. Will you go? To see him, I mean?’

Edith’s dark eyes grew bright. ‘I don’t know. It’s a bit rich, coming to me now, when there hasn’t been a dickybird from any of them for ages. My mother did send a Christmas card, but she forgot to put a stamp on it and it reached here after New Year. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s out to cadge some money off me or something like that.’

Alice spread her hands. ‘But you won’t know unless you go.’

‘Exactly.’ Edith got up and walked to the window. ‘That’s the dilemma. If he really needs to see me then I should let bygones be bygones and go. If he’s just after a handout I’ll be back to square one.’ She gazed sadly out at the ridge tiles and chimneys knowing that, far away over the houses, what remained of her family still lived on the other side of the Thames. She could not in all honesty say that she missed them very much. Yet, since meeting Harry’s family, she had become aware of what she was lacking – a big, caring group of people who welcomed friends into their fold. It had broken through the hard shell she had placed around the idea of family. Perhaps her brother really had changed.

‘Then you won’t have lost anything by going, will you?’ reasoned Alice. ‘You might regret not giving him a chance.’

Edith sighed. ‘I suppose so. Part of me doesn’t want anything to do with him. We never got on as kids, and after Teresa died he hated me; well, he hated all of us, but me especially. It was as if I was meant to have kept her alive. But how could I have? I was only twelve.’

Alice got up from her seat and stood by her friend. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Edie. She would have died whatever you did. It was nobody’s fault, just bad luck that your big sister got diphtheria.’

Edith kept her gaze steadily on the rooftops, not trusting herself to look into Alice’s face. She never spoke of Teresa as a rule, the one person in her family who had loved her without question and whom she had adored. Just one year older than her, Teresa had been her best friend for all her childhood, but then she had taken sick and died in no time at all. The shock had never quite left her. She knew deep down it was why she had fought so hard to become a nurse; she might not have been able to save Teresa but she would do her best to save all those other children with that dreaded disease.

‘I know,’ she said eventually. ‘Well, we know better than anyone, don’t we? We saw cases of it while we were training. Not much of it in Hackney, touch wood.’ She tapped the window frame. ‘So it makes sense for me to meet Mick. If he’s changed, then so much the better. If he hasn’t then I’m no worse off.’

‘I think you’re right,’ Alice agreed. ‘Expect the worst but hope for the best. You never know. Do you want me to come with you?’

‘No,’ said Edith decisively. ‘Thanks, but this is something I will do alone.’ She knew that her brother would quite unreasonably think that Alice was snooty, as she didn’t have a London accent. Edith was quietly protective of her friend, who had not grown up on the same tough streets.

‘If you’re sure?’

Edith nodded firmly. ‘I’ve made up my mind. I’ll see him. As you say, he might be different now.’ The old proverb about leopards not changing their spots sprang into her mind but she dismissed it. Perhaps joining up had made him see that there were other sorts of people in the world. War was proving to be a great leveller. Time would tell if that was how it had affected Mick Gillespie. ‘You go back to Joe’s letter and his funny old writers. I’ll try to sort out my nuisance of a little brother.’

CHAPTER EIGHT

Peggy opened her eyes and squinted because the light of the ugly bedside table hurt her eyes. Where was she? Her throat was dry and she ached all over. There was an odd noise too, a rhythmic sort of rumbling. Then she remembered.

Some of the details were hazy but she knew Laurence had bought her many more port and lemons. At first it had been fun and she had enjoyed their conversation, relishing his wit and good looks and the way everyone was staring at him in his smart pilot’s uniform. Then she’d begun to get rather wobbly but he’d still continued to buy her drinks. It turned out he was staying in a room above the pub, which had surprised her, but when he’d suggested she go upstairs for a lie-down as she seemed a bit tired, it had made a kind of sense at the time. That had been a big mistake.

He’d been on her in a flash, pushing her up against the door, kissing her roughly and not at all in the way she liked, pulling off her clothes as he undid his trousers. She’d tried to protest but she was too drunk, and her body wouldn’t move as she wanted it to. She tried to call out but he stopped her mouth with his own. It was useless and in the end she’d gone along with it, just to get it over with. It hadn’t lasted long. In a moment he got her on the cheap carpet, forced himself on her then rolled off. ‘Payment for all the port and lemons,’ he’d said, and suddenly his accent didn’t seem as attractive any more. ‘Don’t pretend you haven’t done this before. You aren’t exactly an innocent, are you.’ It wasn’t a question.

Peggy tried to recall if she’d told him she was a widow, but decided it didn’t matter. Pete’s memory was too precious to her to share with this man who had turned out to be the very opposite of a gentleman. He’d taken advantage of her, but then she’d allowed him to get the drinks all evening. She’d offered herself up like a willing sacrifice. No wonder he’d thought she wouldn’t mind, or rather hadn’t bothered to check if she did or not.

Groaning, she rolled over. She was in an unfamiliar bed, and the strange noise was Laurence snoring. She had to get away from him as quickly as possible as she could no longer bear the sight of him. Those good looks covered a black heart and the sooner she was away the better. Wildly she scrabbled for her clothes and put them on, her hands shaking as the effects of the alcohol wore off. Her head pounded but the most important thing was to get out.

If he’d heard the noise she was making, Laurence didn’t react. That told her all she needed to know. She was less than nothing to him. He didn’t care if she was awake or not, let alone if he’d hurt her. She knew she’d have bruises tomorrow, and marks from the horrible carpet, which was slightly sticky under her feet as she crept to the door.

Pausing in the dimly lit corridor, she checked her watch. She would still have time to catch the last bus, just. Swiftly she made her way down the stairs and out of a side door that she hoped would lead her to a road she recognised, but not before Marge caught her eye as she wiped the bar. The older woman shook her head, but Peggy was too hungover to react. She didn’t care what the barmaid thought; she’d never have to see her again. All she wanted now was her own bed and to forget the whole evening.

‘What have you got there, Mary?’ Belinda, who was a half-head taller than her colleague, leant over to see. Mary was standing at one of the common-room windows, overlooking the bike rack at the side of the yard, and admiring a small box in her hand. It was Friday lunch time and Belinda was ravenous after a tough morning, but not so hungry as to overcome her natural curiosity.

Mary looked up and smiled, patting her rich brown curls. ‘A present from Charles,’ she said, giving the box a little shake. It rattled, and Belinda raised her eyebrows. ‘Hairgrips.’

‘They’ll be useful.’ Belinda shook her own dark hair, which held its tight waves no matter how much she tried to straighten it under her nurse’s cap. ‘I’m running out and can’t seem to find any in the shops or market.’

Mary nodded. ‘Charles said that’s because all the available metal will be going to munitions and to build new aircraft and that sort of thing,’ she explained. ‘Not that I can see how a few little hairgrips will make much difference. They’re only small. But he says they will be tricky to come by and so he got me these.’

‘You’re lucky to have someone as thoughtful as that,’ breathed Belinda with just a hint of envy.

Mary tried not to look smug. ‘I know. Most chaps wouldn’t think about it. But he knows how hard I try to keep my hair tidy for work, and how important that is.’

‘Exactly,’ said Belinda. ‘We can’t afford to spread infection if we let loose our beautiful tresses.’ She sighed. ‘I need some food after the morning I’ve had. Let’s go and eat.’

After settling themselves in front of their bowls of oxtail soup in the dining area, Mary looked up. ‘So what happened this morning?’

Belinda took a couple of spoonfuls. ‘That’s better. Now I feel human again.’ She put down her spoon. ‘It wasn’t any one major problem, just the way lots of small things built up. There was one middle-aged woman who had broken her wrist. I mean, it was painful and awkward but no worse than that, no complications. She was so upset, though. In the end I realised she just wanted someone to talk to. She’s missing her sons, her husband is hardly at home because he’s started fire-watching, and now she’s hurt her wrist she’s no use for minding her daughter’s baby. On top of all that she’s terrified the Nazis will invade. There wasn’t much I could say to that; only to reassure her that she’ll be as good as new soon and that we’re all trying our best.’ She paused to draw breath.

‘There won’t be an invasion,’ Mary declared, confident as ever.

‘Mary, we don’t know that,’ Belinda pointed out.

‘Our boys in the RAF are defending our skies. That’s what the wireless tells us,’ Mary replied, steadfast in her belief. ‘Charles says the Luftwaffe aren’t getting away with anything. Our boys are stopping them getting through and it’s a marvellous triumph every day. So you can tell your patient to set one worry aside at any rate. But isn’t it funny how cases go in batches?’ she asked hurriedly, reading the scepticism in her colleague’s eyes. ‘A short while ago it was measles everywhere. I had two sprained ankles and a broken arm this morning. One was an accident in the blackout …’

‘… though we’re seeing fewer of those now the evenings are light,’ Belinda pointed out.

‘True. One was a young boy who’d decided to help out around the house with jobs his big brother used to do before joining up, but he didn’t really know what he was doing and fell off a ladder while trying to put up a shelf. So now his poor parents have double the worry and no shelf.’ She shrugged. ‘It could be worse.’

Belinda nodded as she took another welcome mouthful of soup.

‘My other one was an old man who tried to mow his lawn and wasn’t strong enough to take his mower out of the shed,’ Mary went on. ‘He told me his neighbour used to do it but now he’s in the army. So many things we used to take for granted are much more difficult now that there aren’t as many young men around.’

Belinda rolled her eyes. ‘Tell me about it.’

‘Belinda!’ Mary pretended to be shocked. ‘And over lunch, too!’

‘Well, it’s all right for you, you’ve got Charles,’ Belinda pointed out. ‘Not only does he take you to the snazziest restaurants, but he remembers you need hairgrips too. He’s a man in a million. Does he have any friends?’

‘They’re all in the army, most of them away. You can share my hairgrips if you like,’ she added generously. ‘I’m sure I shan’t need them all.’

‘No, no. I couldn’t let you do that. They were a present,’ Belinda said. ‘I was only teasing. Sometimes the least expensive presents are the best, aren’t they, because they are what you really need, and Charles knew you well enough to find them. You’re a lucky woman, Mary Perkins.’

Mary had the grace to blush. ‘Well, I think so. Most of the time.’ She grinned and stood up, taking her soup bowl to the serving hatch. ‘Must be off, more patients to see.’

Belinda waved to her friend and tipped her bowl to spoon up the last of the soup. She’d been half joking, but it was true that there seemed to be far fewer eligible young men around, or at least those who weren’t simply passing through en route to active service somewhere. Her mind turned to that nice young ARP warden who had been at the pub and who knew Edith well. He’d had such kind, lively eyes and a lovely head of dark hair, gently wavy – not tight like hers. Admittedly he was not quite as tall as her, but many men weren’t. He’d been a real gent, walking her home even though it was out of his way. What was his name again? She frowned in concentration until it came to her. It was Billy – Billy Reilly.

Edith pushed open the door of Lyons Corner House with trepidation. Perhaps she should have chosen a smaller café but it was too late to change her mind now. She’d wanted to go somewhere she wouldn’t bump into anyone she knew, so that ruled out all the Dalston ones, and to be somewhere central so her brother would have no cause for complaint about being dragged north of the river and so far east. Lyons near Charing Cross seemed the easiest bet. But gazing round at the waitresses in their smart uniforms, and the women customers sipping their tea with bags of shopping stacked around their chairs, Edith could hear her brother’s snide comments in her head even before he turned up.

In for a penny, in for a pound, she told herself, smiling at the nearest waitress and ordering a toasted teacake. She could pretend sugar and butter wasn’t rationed for once. Might as well enjoy the place before her brother arrived to ruin it. Then she berated herself. Everything might be all right. He might just surprise her.

Edith’s thoughts turned to the night before, when she’d met Peggy in the Duke’s Arms. She’d tried not to look shocked when Peggy had confessed to getting blind drunk with Laurence, but any disapproval had melted away when Peggy described what had happened next.

‘I don’t know how we went from having a lovely time to him behaving like a pig,’ she’d said, quietly so nobody else in the busy beer garden could hear. ‘It was like he was a different person altogether, more like a filthy animal than the bloke we all met in here. I couldn’t do a thing to get away. Truth was, I was afraid to try after a bit, I thought he’d really hurt me.’

‘Oh, Peggy.’ Edith had put her hand on her friend’s arm and squeezed it gently, but even that made her wince.

‘Sorry, it’s the bruises,’ Peggy said. ‘They’re coming out all over me, I’m blue and purple from head to toe. It’s a proper palaver hiding them from Pete’s mum.’ Her lip trembled.

‘Peggy, you should report it,’ Edith said. ‘Who knows, he might try to do it again.’

Peggy had laughed off the suggestion. ‘And say what? That I had too much to drink and agreed to go into his room? They’ll say I was asking for it, you know they will. It’s not as if I’m completely wet behind the ears. I thought we were going to have a bit of fun. I just didn’t realise what his idea of fun was.’

Edith shook her head. ‘All the same …’

Peggy was resolute. ‘No, there’s nothing to be gained by complaining. All that will happen is I’ll get a reputation for being fast. Who knows, perhaps I deserve it.’

Edith tutted. ‘Don’t say such daft things. Of course you don’t.’

Peggy glanced away, suddenly unable to meet her friend’s eyes. ‘Perhaps it’s my punishment. You know, for going out when Pete’s not long dead. That’s what everyone will say, and maybe it’s right. You aren’t going out gallivanting; you’re staying in and mourning Harry like he deserves, aren’t you?’

Edith shrugged. ‘I don’t feel like going out, that’s true. It’s different coming here and seeing you. But, as for the thought of meeting another man … no, I couldn’t. It wouldn’t feel right to me. But I’m not saying you shouldn’t. We’re not all the same, are we?’

Peggy sighed. ‘That’s right. Thanks for not blaming me, Edith. I feel terrible, like I’ve disrespected Pete’s memory in some way, and yet whatever I do won’t change the fact that he’s gone. I don’t want another husband, there ain’t ever going to be anyone like him, but I just can’t sit in and do nothing cos that makes everything a thousand times worse. I’ve got to cope in my own way, just like you have.’

Edith had raised her glass. ‘That’s all we can do, isn’t it? You can talk to me any time, Peggy, you know that.’

Peggy had let slip a tear and dashed it swiftly away before anyone else could notice. ‘Thanks, Edith. You’re a mate. I might take you up on that. I really hope he hasn’t got me up the duff – that would be more than I could stand.’

Edith had looked her steadily in the face. ‘Well, tell me if that happens.’

Peggy’s lip trembled. ‘I know you’d help. Well, I only ever got pregnant once with Pete and I admit we took lots of risks before we got married, so it probably won’t happen. But I’ll be sure to tell you either way.’

Now she spread the butter on her teacake, watching the golden liquid melt onto the plate, almost like before the war had started. She shut her eyes as she took the first bite. Pure heaven.

‘Very fancy.’ She was woken from her moment of bliss by a familiar voice. ‘You must be doing all right for yerself, hanging round places like this.’

Edith forced herself to smile, though her heart sank at the tone of the greeting. ‘Mick. You look well.’

Before her stood a young man in uniform, smarter than she remembered, who bore a striking resemblance to her and, she remembered with a pang, their dead sister Teresa. They shared the family characteristics of wavy hair, almost black, dark eyes and small stature.

He bristled. ‘No thanks to you.’ He pulled back the chair opposite her and took a seat.

Edith didn’t rise to the bait. ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

Mick looked at the neat menu. ‘You got to be joking. Not at these prices.’

Edith sighed. ‘It’s on me.’ It wasn’t as if she’d taken him to the Ritz, or one of Mary’s favoured haunts, but her brother was trying – as always – to make out that he was the injured party. So much for the notion of the army making a man of him.

‘Suppose I will, then,’ he accepted grudgingly. He sat back, taking a good look at her. ‘Nursing suits you, then.’

Edith nodded. ‘I still like it. No, it’s more than that, I really love it.’ She bit her lip, cross with herself for saying so much. Childhood had taught her to give away as little as possible, or Mick would take anything that was dear to her and try to ruin it in one way or another. Still, she thought, she wasn’t a child any more. She was a woman, in a profession, who had briefly been the unofficial fiancée of a wonderful man – a champion boxer, what was more. She had status. It would not be so easy for her brother to knock her down.

‘Love it, do yer?’ Mick sneered. ‘Got yer eye on all the doctors, have yer? Better not let them get their highfalutin hands on you.’

He paused only because the waitress brought the tea.

‘Oh, leave it, Mick,’ said Edith, pouring from the neat little pot. ‘If that’s all you’ve come to tell me, we can say goodbye now.’ She glared at him, refusing to back down. She was heartily glad she had never mentioned Harry to any of her family. At least Mick couldn’t use that to taunt her.

‘Suit yerself,’ he muttered, slurping noisily, at which several of the customers nearby turned round to look. He smiled at them, pleased to have been a source of annoyance. ‘Well now, seeing as you can stand me a cuppa in a swanky place like this, seems like my humble little request will be no bother at all.’

Edith raised her eyebrows. Of course, there was going to be a request. She could make a very good guess what it was going to be.

‘Yes, see, we got to look after our Frankie,’ Mick went on. ‘He’s been in all sorts of trouble and he thinks the best way out of it will be to follow his big brother,’ at this he puffed out his chest a little, ‘into the army. He’s got some vicious types on his heels saying he owes them money, so he reckons his best way of staying safe is to scarper down to enlist.’

‘Mick, he’s sixteen,’ Edith pointed out. ‘They won’t have him.’

Mick snorted. ‘Since when did you grow so keen on playing by the rules? You was the one who said they was there to be broken.’ He pointed his finger at her. ‘They’re signing up all sorts and no questions asked.’

Edith shook her head. ‘I can understand it if a lad looks eighteen. Come off it, Mick. None of us Gillespies looks older than we are; we’re too short, we stand absolutely no chance of passing. You barely look old enough to wear that uniform now. There’s no way on God’s earth a recruitment officer will accept Frankie.’

Mick pulled a face. ‘Prepared to risk it, are you?’

‘What’s the alternative?’ Edith thought they might as well get to the crux of the matter.

‘Glad you asked me,’ he said smoothly. ‘It’s all about this inconvenient amount that our Frankie owes. He pays that off, there’ll be no further questions asked, and he won’t have to go into the Forces. Or at least till he’s officially old enough. So, knowing how much you love your little brother, I’m sure you’ll want to see him right.’

‘No.’ Edith folded her arms.

‘Aren’t you even going to ask how much?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Edith kept her face impassive. ‘If he’s old enough to get into that sort of trouble, then he’s old enough to sort himself out. Or at least come to speak to me directly.’

Mick pushed his chair further back with a loud scraping noise, receiving even more glares. ‘What, don’t you trust me? D’you think I’d take a cut of a lump of cash that’s going to save our brother?’

Edith decided to call his bluff. ‘Yep. That’s exactly what I think.’ She pressed home her advantage. ‘You think I earn a fortune, do you? Since when did nurses ever get huge pay packets? And what about you – you’re serving in the army for nothing, are you? I can’t see that happening somehow.’

Mick glared at her in fury. ‘I deserve my pay. A man needs his earnings. Whereas you, look at you, what do you need cash for? Bet they feed you and you get to live in one of those fancy nurses’ homes. I been inside one or two of those,’ he leered, ‘and they was like little palaces. You’re living the life of Riley.’

Edith stared heavenwards, thinking of all the sad cases she had had to deal with in the past week. Yes, she loved her little attic room, and if the canteen food wasn’t as delicious as a Lyons teacake, at least there was plenty of it. It was a world away from what she had grown up with and she’d worked hard to get there. She wasn’t going to give Mick the satisfaction of upsetting her. She didn’t even know if he was telling the truth about Frankie, but she was sure that if she gave him any money, then their younger brother would see very little of it.

‘Think what you like,’ she said evenly, ‘but you’ll get nothing from me. If Frankie’s genuinely in trouble, ask him to get in touch directly. That’s if you can’t sub him yourself, after having all your bed and board paid for, that is.’

Mick slammed down his cup so hard she thought it would break. ‘I might have known it. You’ve only ever been out for yourself. Ma told me that’s what you’d say but I thought, oh no, now she’s a nurse she’ll have changed. She’ll be kind; everyone knows nurses are kind.’ He brought his face close to hers. ‘But not you, eh, Edith? Hard as nails, that’s what you are.’ He threw the chair to one side, causing a nearby woman to squeal, as Edith swiftly reached out and caught it before it could fall or knock into anyone. ‘Wish I could say it was nice seeing you again, but that would be a lie.’ With that he flung himself towards the door and out onto the Strand.

Edith sighed but made herself finish the tea and the last bite of the teacake. She would not let his familiar viciousness get under her skin. In truth, she had expected little else from him, and in one way it was good to have her suspicions confirmed. He was trying to con her out of her hard-earned money, just like the old days, but now he thought she’d be a softer touch. Well, he’d picked on the wrong person. She knew his ways and had no intention of falling for them.

Taking some coins from her purse and leaving them for the waitress, she rose with dignity and steadily made her way to the door. It was only when she had reached the outside and the cooler air hit her that she felt a pang. Why did her family have to be so difficult? Did they really still blame her for Teresa’s death, or would they have been like this anyway? There was no way of telling.

Edith exhaled sharply. All right, so her family weren’t much of a comfort, but she knew one that was – and one that had made her welcome. Suddenly she knew she had to be back in that room she thought of as the source of all comfort and safety. She would go to visit the Banhams – at least she knew she would always have the warmest of welcomes there.

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