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
