Freda Lightfoot - Peace In My Heart

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?