Читать книгу Peace In My Heart - Freda Lightfoot, Freda Lightfoot - Страница 8

Chapter Three

When Joanne and Megan returned to the boarding house where they happily lived, they found it packed with soldiers. These comprised Polish aircrew, as well as many of their wives and children who had come to visit their husbands, always welcome thanks to these kind landladies. On this occasion everyone was happily engaged in watching a performance of brightly lit puppets before a curtain strung across part of the dining room, the children in particular excitedly laughing and enjoying the show. Joanne guessed the man creating this show would be Tomasz, a dapper young Polish man with fuzzy dark brown hair. He would often sing, play music or perform a mime, acting out a story with no speech but lots of clever movement. He was most gifted and great fun. Soon, he and his Polish colleagues would all be gone, and Joanne could see by the joy in this group how they were all looking forward to returning home. Not something she could expect to happen for herself and her sister.

Striving to block out the fears for their uncertain future, Joanne grabbed an empty tray of plates and carried it briskly to the kitchen. Aunt Annie was busily boiling kettles on the stove to make tea. Aunt Sadie stood at the table, slicing bread to make more sandwiches. This younger sister, in her mid-fifties was a small, round-faced lady with a plump nose, her piercing dark eyes guarded by tiny spectacles, her black hair firmly clipped up. As always, she was tidily dressed in a long dark skirt, a white blouse and a huge apron, her stockinged feet held in a neat pair of strapped flat shoes.

Joanne dashed to help by starting to chop Spam and lay slices onto the bread ‘We’ve had a lovely time today on the promenade and, of course, have enjoyed living here in Blackpool these last few years.’

Giving her a warm smile, Sadie said, ‘I remember the happy day we met you in that centre on Whitegate Drive early in 1942. You were such lovely little girls, if looking rather tired and sad, poor little Megan constantly weeping. How could we resist taking you in?’

‘We greatly appreciated that. Now I can’t get my mind round to leaving here and moving back to Manchester. I would sorely miss this town and you two caring ladies.’

‘Don’t fret, dear. We’ll miss you too when you leave but once that happens you can come and visit us any time you wish. Our work will thankfully calm down soon, although I shall miss spending each afternoon knitting scarves and rugs, soldiers no longer being in need of them, the war now over.’

Quietly piling the sandwiches onto the tray, having little appetite for food herself right now, Joanne gave a tremor of a smile. She was highly appreciative that Aunt Sadie’s efforts to support the troops had been a most important part of this lovely lady’s life, as it was for her sister, Aunt Annie. They were also most supportive and kindly towards herself and Megan, as this conversation highlighted. But she had no wish to reveal the anguish she’d just gone through by losing the GI she adored. ‘My mam always loved knitting too, plus sewing and lacemaking. Not that I’ve seen anything she’s made in years, let alone any sight of her. Who knows if I ever will again.’

‘I’m sure you will, dear.’

Joanne met her sympathetic gaze with speculation in her own. It was then that Megan burst through the kitchen door in a cloud of steam, her cheeks scarlet because of the heat of her surroundings as well as her fury. ‘If that RAF chap won’t keep his hands off tapping my bottom, I’ll land him a smack on his ear.’

Aunt Annie, older and taller with similar coloured hair, eyes and spectacles to her sister, let out a heavy sigh, clearly realizing who she was referring to. ‘He’s probably just a bit drunk on this day of celebration and was only teasing you, lass. Not all men are a problem, although the odd one can sometimes enjoy marlicking about on occasion. Ideally, I should mebbe chuck that fellow out and be in possession of a vacant room come dinnertime. However, he’s a man very much in charge, visiting some of the troops and paid to stay here by the Government so there’s nowt I can do about that.’

‘He’s no right to touch me,’ Megan tartly remarked. ‘I don’t like men at all.’

‘Quite right, love. Go and have a rest up in your room and keep well away from all these drunken chaps. That would be wise. I’ll have a quiet word with that Wing Commander Ramsbotham, silly fool that he is.’

Excusing herself with a spirited smile, Aunt Annie pushed up her sleeves and marched off to the dining room, a fierce look in her eyes as she prepared to do battle with this offender. What a character she was, and very meticulous. She had no intention of waiting hand, foot and finger on other folk’s whims and peccadilloes, appreciating the fruitlessness of such behaviour. Folk in this boarding house had to behave themselves or they were dispatched elsewhere, in spite of these landladies’ care and concern. Joanne knew that this dear lady was of the opinion that the amount the Government paid for the soldiers and other military personnel who occupied rooms here, which didn’t match the amount of money they earned from tourists, at times left them a bit short of cash.

Joanne gave Megan a quick cuddle, aware that she hadn’t found it easy being an evacuee with no mother present to comfort her, and having been constantly moved around because of ill treatment they’d suffered at times. At least they’d been fortunate to happily live here in Blackpool these last three years. She watched with a smile as her sister stamped off upstairs, knowing that she was not required to do any work, being far too young. She’d no doubt happily go and read or draw, as she so loved to do. Joanne didn’t at all mind working for these lovely ladies, really quite enjoying it, but she felt that their lives were in complete turmoil. What on earth would happen to them now?

The next morning, having suffered a sleepless night quietly weeping over her loss, Joanne anxiously worried that Teddy might never write and arrange for her to join him. She felt herself engaged in a world she no longer wished to be a part of. Not that life throughout the war had been at all easy, with bombs falling and sirens screaming and wailing. Now, wiping the tears from her eyes, she got out of bed and found that she’d tossed that new blue dress she’d bought for the special VE Day celebration onto the floor the previous evening. She gazed in dismay at the creased fabric, parts of it torn and marked with brown stains, perhaps because Teddy had pushed her down on the wet sand under the pier. What exactly had he done to her? A part of her shook with fear; not at all clear about that. Could her life be ruined as well as this frock?

‘What’s troubling you, sis? I heard you crying last night. Do tell me what’s wrong,’ Megan whispered, looking deeply distressed.

‘I’ve just damaged my new frock,’ Joanne remarked, not wishing to discuss the truth of her distress. She’d never spoken about her feelings for Teddy, preferring to keep their relationship private.

‘Oh no, what a nuisance and we had such a fun time yesterday.’

How dare she deny that? Panic pulsated through her, making Joanne feel badly in need of Megan’s comfort. Should she tell her more or keep what happened a secret? All possibility of making that decision vanished when Aunt Annie politely opened the door to ask Joanne if she would please start serving breakfast to their guests.

‘Of course,’ she said. After quickly dressing, she tossed the dress aside and dashed off downstairs to take part in her usual morning chores.

Later that afternoon, Annie handed the dress back to her, suitably repaired. ‘Megan told me of your problem. You looked such a pretty girl wearing this frock yesterday, I’ve cleaned and mended it for you, dear.’

‘Oh, thank you, Aunt Annie,’ Joanne said. ‘What a wonderfully kind and helpful lady you are.’ Tears spurted and ran down her cheeks, making her feel desolate and low. She feared that her heart could break having lost the man she loved. He’d told her how pretty she was, making no mention of what he felt for her, something she hadn’t noticed at the time. ‘I do so appreciate your care for us, particularly having lost our mam. Heaven knows whether she’s still alive, let alone any other members of our family. Being unable to find our parents, I do feel in a state of bewilderment, wondering where we could possibly live, were we to return to Manchester.’

Annie put her arms around Joanne, giving her a pat and a hug. ‘Our local billeting officer knows where you are, therefore I’m sure you’ll hear from her soon, lovey.’

How could that happen when their mother had no idea in which town her daughters were now living? Nor had they any idea where she was living either. If they ever did hear from her, Joanne wondered if Megan would be at all interested in going back home? And would she personally find the courage to tell her mam she’d fallen in love with a GI and how she ached to go to America to join him, rather than go home to Manchester? In addition to finding their mam and dad, would she ever find Danny, their brother, whom Joanne believed no longer lived with the farmer who first took him in. Receiving no response from him either when she’d written to say where they’d been moved to, following their departure from that area in Keswick, Joanne wondered whether he’d been sent some place else. What a muddle their lives were in. Where and when would their family ever meet up?

Danny was involved in taking a hike with a small group of friends around Derwentwater, a crystal glass lake. Not a breath of wind stirred in the heat of the day. How he loved this beautiful area of Keswick and the magical panoply of fold upon fold of mountains in a landscape that seemed to stretch into infinity. The ribbon of this dusty track linking the skeins of drystone walls could lure him to venture onward and upward into the unknown, were he free to roam. Far away in the distance were the hills of Scotland and the Solway Firth. Here, as they walked on through a copse of tall trees, he admired the awesome sight of Blencathra, a proud, benevolent mountain.

Many travellers, as well as themselves as youngsters, were urged into climbing these beautiful peaks to celebrate their fitness, including Grisedale Pike, Helvellyn, the highest giant, and the mysterious Castlerigg Stone Circle. The presence of these brooding mountains always enthralled him even when they were loaded with snow, or wet grey clouds. The mountains often appeared sullen but today were filled with a benign merriness of sunny beauty. How happy it made him feel despite often having heard the sound of bombing over by the coast.

The war had started well for him, living and working on that friendly farm close to Blencathra until Willie Mullins had messed things up for him. He now worked part-time for a farmer close to the camp and still enjoyed walking if not climbing, having suffered an attack by Mullins. Thankfully, that selfish lad was too lazy to be interested in joining them today so he was free of yet more pestering. A part of Danny felt he’d like to stay out here in the countryside for ever, while another part of him ached to return to his parents in Manchester.

It was when they returned to camp that he was called to the camp leader’s office, shocked to hear himself accused yet again of stealing fruit and veg from a local farmer. Horrified, he loudly protested. ‘It weren’t me, sir. I never steal nowt. I’m innocent, having happily worked for this farmer for some time. Why would I pinch owt off him and risk losing my part-time job? It were more likely Willie Mullins what stole it. He allus puts the blame on me, as he so likes to do for owt he pinches.’

The camp leader glared at him, sour-faced and disbelieving. ‘What proof do I have of that? I found a box of food close to your bed and Willie confirmed that you’d committed that theft, always complaining you were short of food. That young lad was also marked with bruises, admitting that when he’d challenged you about this crime you’d started a fight.’

‘That’s a lie!’ Danny snapped. ‘He must have hidden it there. I certainly didn’t. We had a fight when he tried to drop me off the cliff we were climbing. He’s the one who eats too much and steals things, not me. I’m not a bloody thief.’

The leader gave a snort of disbelief. ‘I do not approve of bad language or arguments, lad. I appreciate you two do not get on terribly well. No doubt you fight him in order to keep him silent, as you’ve no desire to be charged with this theft. Fortunately, I have no wish to call the police, which would damage our reputation even worse than yours. You must simply apologize to that farmer and politely return this fruit and veg.’

‘I’ll not apologize for summat I didn’t do.’

‘Then you will suffer a suitable punishment,’ he sternly remarked.

To his utter dismay, Danny then found himself locked in the coal cellar below the leader’s office, a stark and dreadful place. Close by the room in which he was confined, he could hear the barking of a bad-tempered bull terrier who lived chained to the wall. In the past Willie would constantly insist that he must be the one to come down here to collect the coal needed for the huts, which Danny had always found pretty scary. That dog would growl and attempt to pounce or bite him, unless he possessed a scrap of food to divert its attention. Now he had nothing to offer and could but pray he’d be kept clear of that dog and be freed soon.

He lay on a cold bed with one blanket for the rest of that day and night, his mind dreaming of his mother, father and sisters. Joanne and Megan had lived quite close to him for a while but then had been moved on, where to or why he’d no idea, never having received a letter from them since he too had been moved. At times he felt very lonely and worried about ever finding them. He did receive the occasional letter from his mother and sometimes a parcel of comics as if he was still a young boy, which he nevertheless quite enjoyed, The Beano and The Dandy being his favourites. There’d not been any word from his father, or any mention of him at all from his mam. How he missed his family.

It was the following morning, when Danny was finally released and provided with a most welcome scrambled egg breakfast, that the camp leader came trotting over to hand him a letter, a smirk of a grin on his face. ‘Good news, laddie. Be aware that once the war in Japan is over, permission will be granted by the Government for you to be taken home to Manchester by train. Willie here, your old classmate, will go too. So make sure you improve your friendship, laddies. Not that I’ll miss either of you when that time comes,’ he said with a chuckle. He patted each of them on the back and walked away to leave them sitting scowling at each other.

This news gave Danny hope he’d be back with his family soon, once this war had finally ended. Or did he wish to stay here in this beautiful countryside? Not right now. He’d completely gone off that idea.