Peace In My Heart. Freda Lightfoot
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life of comfort, once I find them. As I’m no longer living in the place they once knew and loved, I’ll work hard to make this more spick and span.’
‘Good for you and I’ll be glad to help, not having much work on myself just yet.’
‘I couldn’t afford to employ you.’
‘That’s all right, wasn’t asking you to do that. If you can afford to buy some white paint, or whatever colour you prefer, I could decorate these walls for you.’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful.’ She fetched her purse and handed him a couple of pounds. ‘See what you can get with that. I really appreciate your help, Davie.’
‘Rightio,’ he said, then, giving a grin and a wink, he finished the unloading then went off happily whistling, promising to be back the next day to start the painting.
Evie knew that this house was not as large or comfortable as the first home they’d rented and lost during the Christmas Blitz in 1940. It had a messy living-kitchen, two bedrooms and a lavatory in the backyard they would have to share with several other families. Having investigated it when Harold Mullins first offered it to her, she’d worked out that the main bedroom would be for herself and Donald. Joanne and Megan could share the small spare room and she’d bought a sofa bed for Daniel, which she’d had delivered and placed in a corner of the living-kitchen.
None of this was ideal but hopefully they might eventually find a better house one day. That would not be easy right now, there being a desperate shortage of property in all cities that had suffered from bombing. This one was at least equipped, with a bit of furniture, including necessary beds in the rooms upstairs. Not that there were any carpets and nothing but blackout curtains over the mucky windows. Nevertheless, she was deeply grateful to Mullins for supplying her with this cottage, as well as the new job she’d be starting first thing on Monday morning, so she must make no complaints about the mess the house was in. She was also deeply grateful for Davie’s offer of assistance.
He turned up as promised the next day and quickly set to painting the kitchen walls white, then moved on to other parts of the house. Evie spent every spare moment over the following days cleaning and scrubbing. Not convinced she’d given Davie sufficient money to paint every room, she frequently asked if he needed more but he would shake his head and gave a chuckle.
‘Neither of us is rich, chuck, but we’re coping well. I did make sure I bought a cheap version so you concentrate on your jobs and I’ll see to this decorating. It needs to look good for Donald and your kids when they arrive home.’
Once he was done, every room looked much cleaner and brighter. Evie gave him a large currant sponge cake she’d baked for him as a token of her appreciation. ‘You’ve done an excellent job, thank you so much.’
‘Eeh, thanks, chuck. We’re a great team. And do let me know when Donald comes home.’
‘I certainly will,’ she said, and gave him a smile as he trotted off.
She stocked the larder with some of her children’s favourite food: dried eggs, Rowntrees KitKat, cheese and wheatmeal bread if little in the way of fruit, sweets, sugar or treacle, rationing still being in place. Once they were due to arrive she’d buy some chicken and vegetables and other tasty food. She had made an attempt to buy them new clothes, then realized she’d no idea what size they took now they were so much older, so had to abandon that idea. Evie made a mental note she could take them shopping to the Flat Iron Market, which had low-priced clothes, or else she could sew her girls a dress each. How exciting that would be, loving sewing and knitting as well as lacemaking.
No longer employed by the mill, her request to keep working with other women to make lace had been ignored by Harold Mullins. Certain machines at the mill had been idle throughout the war, there being no demand for lace in those days. Still in good condition it was a shame she’d not been allowed to operate them. Evie thought she might one day return to making lace herself by hand and try selling it on Campfield Market to earn herself more money. But it could take a while to build herself the stock.
Right now she had to acquire the necessary skills to do this completely different and difficult job, which would hopefully make her a reasonable income as well as having thankfully supplied her with this home for her family. But being only a part-time occupation, she might find some opportunity to work for herself. An interesting proposition.
Taking her favourite walk along the beach, Joanne loved the wonderful view of the sea as well as collecting a few beautiful shells and pieces of driftwood from under the pier, which she thought of as treasures. She would wash the shells and paint the driftwood in bright colours, or create an image of seagulls and boats, sensing that would give them a more interesting appearance. It surprised her when Bernie suddenly came to join her.
‘Hello, Joanne. I saw what you were doing while I was watching the boats and am happy to join in,’ he said, starting to pick up a few more shells to pop into her carrier bag.
Lifting her hair from her neck to let the breeze run through it, she glanced up at him with some reluctance, wondering why he had followed her. This being a lovely summer’s day she felt quite unable to think of any justified reason for dismissing him even though she had a desire to be on her own to think things through.
‘Thanks, Bernie, I have managed to find a few.’ They walked along in silence, collecting more pretty shells. When she’d filled her bag he took it from her, claiming it was far too heavy for her to carry. Seeing his pale grey eyes glitter with admiration Joanne was filled with a sudden gush of panic. He did seem to be growing far too interested in her. She was even more surprised when he next asked her for a date.
‘I know that you like dancing and wondered if you’d care to accompany me to the Tower Ballroom. That would be fun,’ he said, giving her a grin.
Oh, my goodness, did she wish to dance with this lad? She certainly had no intention of falling for him, still living in hope of becoming engaged to Teddy. Wouldn’t it be dangerous to allow Bernie to become too fond of her? But what could she say? Hadn’t they been sort of good friends these last few years? And he’d been most supportive by helping her search for her mother in Manchester, as well as sympathetic when they’d failed to find her? But she felt the urge to refuse this request as politely as possible, telling herself she should do her utmost to prevent him from attempting to court her, still fixing her hope on Teddy. Bearing in mind who he was, she must remain cautiously polite towards him. ‘Maybe we’ll give that a try on some occasion. I’ll let you know when I feel ready to have a dance,’ she said, tossing up her chin with a flicker of a smile.
To her surprise, a day or two later, she also received the offer of a date from Wing Commander Ramsbotham. Being such an attractive and lively young man, how could she refuse him? He was far more exciting and good-looking than Bernie. That night when they settled in bed, Joanne told Megan how she’d accepted his offer and declined Bernie’s.
‘Why are you being so stupid?’ her sister demanded, sounding most scathing.
‘Why would I not accept? Wing Commander Ramsbotham is a very attractive man,’ Joanne stoutly declared.
‘Rubbish, he’s a pain in the ass. Bernie is so much kinder and more polite.’
Joanne rolled her eyes. ‘He does appear to be quite smitten with me. He keeps offering to clean my shoes, check the tyres on my bike and if I stretch up a little to the high kitchen cupboard he’ll ask what it is I want and can he reach it for me. He’s very funny! And, of course, he followed me down to the beach the other day to supposedly help me find shells when really he wanted to ask me out. Not at all what I wished him to do.’
‘Oh, for goodness sake, why not encourage Bernie to be your next flame instead of that randy RAF chap? Being our aunt’s nephew you mustn’t be rude to him. And you were far too flighty when those GIs showed interest in you, obsessed with love,’ she mockingly stated.
‘Don’t