at it for years with no luck at all – it seemed her determination to keep him at arm’s length was as strong as her knicker-elastic, for Ron had got no further than a peck on the cheek under the mistletoe at Christmas.
But then, she reasoned, the fun was in the chase, and perhaps they preferred to keep things as they were? She carried on knitting, but the music that poured softly from the wireless wasn’t really holding her attention. Her thoughts kept drifting to Sally and her little brother.
The boy was settling in well, thanks to Charlie and Ron, but she was worried about Sally. She looked about fourteen and was too thin and pale, far too young to have the responsibility of looking after Ernie as well as holding down a job in a factory. What was her mother thinking of?
Peggy sighed and put down her knitting. The girl had put on a brave face during the evening, and Peggy admired her spirit, but it was clear she’d been crying beforehand, and was no doubt feeling homesick and disorientated. It would be hard for her until she found her feet, and Peggy fully understood why. This large house full of strangers must be daunting after what she suspected were a mean few rooms in Bow. At least there she would have been amongst her own people who looked out for her. She’d heard about the strong community spirit in the East End, and hoped for Sally’s sake it was true. She couldn’t bear the thought that she’d struggled alone.
She had tried gently questioning her as they’d washed the dishes and put them away, but Sally was a proud little thing and had revealed very little, other than that her mother worked in a factory and her father was a merchant seaman. Reading between the lines, Peggy suspected there was little love lost between mother and daughter, but Sally’s face had lit up when she talked about her father. It was clear he meant the world to her, and was probably the lynchpin that held the little family together despite his long absences at sea.
She tucked the knitting away in its bag, turned off the wireless, and stared into the red heart of the fire. At least Sally had been given a stamped addressed envelope so she could send a note to her mother telling her where they were – but the girl’s doubt that there would be a reply was an indication of the mother’s lack of concern, and Peggy had had to resist the urge to add a strongly worded postscript. It wouldn’t help anyone – least of all Sally and Ernie.
Peggy gave a deep sigh. They were a pair of waifs, and her soft heart yearned to make things right for them during the time they were with her – but she knew she must never overstep the mark and take on the role of mother to either of them, for one day they would have to go back to where they came from, and she had her own children to look after.
‘Excuse please. I not disturb?’
Peggy gave a start. ‘My goodness, you made me jump, Mr Chemy … Chemyes …’
‘Please, you must call me Alex,’ he reminded her gently, as he stepped into the kitchen. ‘I am sorry to make you jump, but I not have the right money for meter in my room.’
She smiled up at him and got to her feet to reach for the tin on the mantelpiece. He had lovely manners and was probably the most charming guest ever to have set foot in her house. She would quite miss him when he left. ‘That’s easily sorted. Come and sit by the fire while I find some change. It must be cold up there.’
His smile creased the corners of his eyes as he perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. ‘I am used to the winters in Poland, Mrs Reilly. But with no fire to give colour and life, it is a little bleak, I think.’
She wasn’t sure if he meant the weather was bleak, or if he was referring to his room. Deciding it was just his being Polish that made it difficult for him to express himself properly, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. After all, she reasoned, he’d only arrived a couple of weeks ago. She took his pound note, stuffed
But then, she reasoned, the fun was in the chase, and perhaps they preferred to keep things as they were? She carried on knitting, but the music that poured softly from the wireless wasn’t really holding her attention. Her thoughts kept drifting to Sally and her little brother.
The boy was settling in well, thanks to Charlie and Ron, but she was worried about Sally. She looked about fourteen and was too thin and pale, far too young to have the responsibility of looking after Ernie as well as holding down a job in a factory. What was her mother thinking of?
Peggy sighed and put down her knitting. The girl had put on a brave face during the evening, and Peggy admired her spirit, but it was clear she’d been crying beforehand, and was no doubt feeling homesick and disorientated. It would be hard for her until she found her feet, and Peggy fully understood why. This large house full of strangers must be daunting after what she suspected were a mean few rooms in Bow. At least there she would have been amongst her own people who looked out for her. She’d heard about the strong community spirit in the East End, and hoped for Sally’s sake it was true. She couldn’t bear the thought that she’d struggled alone.
She had tried gently questioning her as they’d washed the dishes and put them away, but Sally was a proud little thing and had revealed very little, other than that her mother worked in a factory and her father was a merchant seaman. Reading between the lines, Peggy suspected there was little love lost between mother and daughter, but Sally’s face had lit up when she talked about her father. It was clear he meant the world to her, and was probably the lynchpin that held the little family together despite his long absences at sea.
She tucked the knitting away in its bag, turned off the wireless, and stared into the red heart of the fire. At least Sally had been given a stamped addressed envelope so she could send a note to her mother telling her where they were – but the girl’s doubt that there would be a reply was an indication of the mother’s lack of concern, and Peggy had had to resist the urge to add a strongly worded postscript. It wouldn’t help anyone – least of all Sally and Ernie.
Peggy gave a deep sigh. They were a pair of waifs, and her soft heart yearned to make things right for them during the time they were with her – but she knew she must never overstep the mark and take on the role of mother to either of them, for one day they would have to go back to where they came from, and she had her own children to look after.
‘Excuse please. I not disturb?’
Peggy gave a start. ‘My goodness, you made me jump, Mr Chemy … Chemyes …’
‘Please, you must call me Alex,’ he reminded her gently, as he stepped into the kitchen. ‘I am sorry to make you jump, but I not have the right money for meter in my room.’
She smiled up at him and got to her feet to reach for the tin on the mantelpiece. He had lovely manners and was probably the most charming guest ever to have set foot in her house. She would quite miss him when he left. ‘That’s easily sorted. Come and sit by the fire while I find some change. It must be cold up there.’
His smile creased the corners of his eyes as he perched on the edge of a kitchen chair. ‘I am used to the winters in Poland, Mrs Reilly. But with no fire to give colour and life, it is a little bleak, I think.’
She wasn’t sure if he meant the weather was bleak, or if he was referring to his room. Deciding it was just his being Polish that made it difficult for him to express himself properly, she gave him the benefit of the doubt. After all, she reasoned, he’d only arrived a couple of weeks ago. She took his pound note, stuffed
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