Chapter 64

Early September 1944

Tony and his father hadn't been to the office for several days and it worried Peggy that he hadn't called into number 3 to see her, either. She hoped he wasn't ill. It occurred to her that maybe something had happened to his mother, who, she had heard, struggled more and more with her nerves as the months passed. Peggy wasn't surprised. She herself was strong, as were her mother and Babs, but they were starting to bicker among themselves now, their patience stretched as their stomachs ached with hunger.

Life was miserable and, as far as she was concerned, made far worse knowing that Allied forces were so close yet continued not to liberate the islands. She had never felt this helpless before, and for the first time she worried whether she had the strength to see this through to the end.

Gossip was spreading from the country parishes about Germans stealing people's food – even ducks or chickens from those who still had them. People who had pets kept them under close scrutiny, not daring to leave them outside in case they were stolen to be eaten.

Peggy was nervous each time she ventured out of the house now. The atmosphere was far less friendly than it had been. There was a sense of desperation among the Germans now, and they were arresting people for more offences.

She was about to leave for work, her stomach rumbling because the only bread they had managed to find was mouldy. Despite her mother's insistence, Peggy was certain she had seen things moving in it. She was hungry, but not so much that she could eat something revolting. She put on her coat, picked up her handbag and stepped out of the house.

‘Bye, Mum. I'll see you later.'

‘Bye, lovey.'

Peggy closed the front door behind her thinking how much she missed Tony. He always managed to reassure her and she was struggling without the comfort of talking to him.

Hearing the distinctive sound of an aircraft engine, Peggy looked up to see a British plane. Immediately, artillery began firing, making her tense and wish she had stayed at home. Frightened that she might be caught by flying shrapnel, she ran for cover in a nearby doorway, and was relieved when the firing stopped and she was able to continue on her way.

As she walked along the road, something caught Peggy's eye in the trees to her left. She peered up at the pathways among rows of trees along Westmount that she recalled her mum saying used to be known as Gallows Hill, because there had been gallows there when prisoners were publicly executed. More recently, executions had been rare and private.

She spotted small patches of white in the grass and others in the branches and stopped, trying to make out what they were. Intrigued and seeing no military vehicles, she ran across the road and up the steps, quickly reaching what she discovered was a leaflet. It was in German. Peggy smiled. She had heard RAF planes flying over the previous night and thought they were closer than usual.

‘They must have been dropping these,' she said to herself. The leaflet was from the British Government, encouraging German soldiers to surrender. It wasn't much but it was a reminder that they hadn't been completely forgotten.

‘Halt!'

Peggy tensed, instantly aware she was being addressed. She dropped the leaflet and turned to face the soldier. In English, she said, ‘I'm sorry, I didn't know what it was.'

He narrowed his eyes at her and after staring at her for a few seconds cocked his head to one side. ‘Move. Go.'

She didn't need telling twice. She was lucky that he hadn't known she understood what it said, or that he wasn't one of the more officious ones who took advantage of an opportunity to display their power.

She hurried back down the path to the road, crossed over to the other side and walked as quickly as she could all the way to work. She arrived at her office out of breath and weary. She had followed the same route, apart from her brief detour, that she took every workday morning and night, yet now she found it tiring and her legs ached. She knew it was due to the shortage of good food. Or any food at all, she thought miserably as she took off her coat and sat down at her desk.

She had only managed to remove the cover from her typewriter and take her notepad and pencil from her desk when the door opened and Tony entered, so quietly she barely heard him. Relief flooded through her. She leapt up and ran to him.

‘Where have you been? I've been terribly worried about you.' She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest, feeling his bones against the side of her face where before had been muscles. When he didn't reply, she tensed. ‘Are you all right? Your parents?'

He held her more tightly and she realised he was trembling. ‘My mother,' he said, his voice tight with emotion. ‘She's in the nursing home.'

‘What happened?' she asked, knowing it must be something serious.

‘She's had a breakdown. Dad is beside himself.' He exhaled sharply. ‘As am I.'

She held him tighter against her, desperate to comfort him. ‘I'm not surprised you're both upset. Do you know how long they expect her to be there?'

‘They don't know. She was eating less than she was giving us but we didn't know. It can't have helped her health.' He sighed. ‘I feel guilty not to have realised.'

Helen moved back slightly and looked up at him, resting a hand against his cheek, until he lowered his eyes to hers. ‘Listen to me. I've met your mother. It's obvious how much she adores you and your father. She only did what many mothers would do.' She thought of her own mother and decided to be more observant when Ida was serving meals in case she was doing something similar. ‘She wouldn't have let you not eat that food, Tony. It's her way of showing her love for you.'

His eyes filled with tears. ‘But how do I show my love for her?'

‘By keeping going. By staying strong for her and your father. She needs to know you'll both be fine.' It dawned on her then that whenever she and Babs got home from work and their mother insisted she had already eaten, she hadn't in fact done so. ‘It's what I'd do,' she added, ‘and I've just realised that my mother has been doing something similar.'

Tony's upper body seemed to sag. ‘I'm not sure how long I can keep this up.'

She heard the despair in his voice and wanted to cry. Tony had always been the strong one, the one to encourage them all to keep going, the shoulder to cry on whenever they needed him. Her heart broke for him. She realised it was her turn to be the strong one now.

She grabbed hold of his upper arms, once so muscular and strong and now so thin. ‘You have no choice,' she snapped. He gazed miserably into her eyes and she wanted to comfort him, not feign anger. ‘You have too many people depending on you, Tony. Whether you want to do this for yourself doesn't matter any longer.' You have to help your family. Mine needs you, too, as do Helen, Bobby and now Daphne. None of us can survive if you don't keep going.'

It was cruel to add to the pressure on him, but she suspected it was the only way to persuade him or motivate him.

‘We're starving and despondent, but we all need to dig deeper and find the resolve to do what's needed.'

He loosened his hold on her. ‘You're right. We need help. The first thing I'm going to do is send a telegram to Richard, ask him to spread the word in England about our sorry state. If the British Government won't send forces to save us, then maybe someone will find a way to send us enough food and supplies to keep us alive until they do free us.'