Peggy patiently. She paused and smiled. ‘Perhaps we should go to the doctor and get you a better hearing aid tomorrow?’
‘It would be a complete waste of time,’ Mrs Finch retorted. ‘This one is perfectly all right once I get the volume correctly balanced.’
The sound of a key turning in the latch made Peggy look up, and her worries over everyone fled as her eldest daughter Anne walked into the kitchen. ‘Darling,’ she breathed as she gave her a hug and kiss. ‘What a lovely surprise. Are you staying the night?’
Anne kissed Mrs Finch’s cheek and gave her a gentle hug. ‘If that’s all right,’ she replied.
‘Of course it is. Your old bed is still in Cissy’s room, all it needs is clean linen.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Anne poured a cup of tea and pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. ‘It’s lovely to be out of those barracks and back in this kitchen again. Not that I don’t have huge fun with the other girls,’ she added hastily, ‘and of course the work we do is exciting and challenging. But home is always best.’
‘How are you getting on up there in your cliff caves? The thought of all that chalk over my head would have me screaming mad within minutes.’
‘You forget where you are,’ Anne replied. ‘The plotting of enemy aircraft and shipping takes every ounce of concentration, and when the shift is over, or we’re stood down in a lull, we’re so tired, we sleep most of the time.’
‘Have you managed to see Martin very much?’
Anne sighed as she twirled the rings on her finger. ‘We’ve only been married a matter of months, and I could count the days we’ve had together on one hand.’ A smile teased at the tiny dimple in her cheek. ‘But he’s thinking about buying us a little house we’ve seen that’s only a few miles from the airbase, so that could soon change everything.’
‘But you’ll be working day and night with the Observer Corps, and he’ll be flying endless missions now the Germans are attacking our cities and ports. How will buying a house make any difference?’
The dimple deepened, and Anne’s brown eyes were alight with excitement as she looked at Peggy. ‘In a few months’ time I’ll be a lady of leisure,’ she said. ‘No more barracks, no more night shifts and endless map plotting for me, just the ordinary, everyday chores of a housewife.’
‘But …?’ Peggy suddenly understood and she was flooded with warm happiness. ‘You’re pregnant.’ She leapt from her chair and hugged her daughter, the joy spilling over. ‘How far gone are you? When is it due?’
‘We think it must be a honeymoon baby, because the doctor has given us a delivery date in February.’
‘Oh, Anne,’ said Peggy through her happy tears. ‘How lovely.’
‘Congratulations, my dear,’ chirped Mrs Finch. ‘Come and give me a kiss and then pass me that knitting bag. I’m sure I have some white wool in there and I’ve the perfect pattern for a matinee jacket.’
Peggy and Anne exchanged delighted smiles as Mrs Finch fussed and twittered and rummaged through her vast knitting bag, muttering to herself.
‘Oh, Mum,’ Anne breathed, ‘I’m so happy, and Martin’s over the moon. Once we have that little house, everything will be just perfect. I do so hope nothing spoils it all.’
‘Of course it won’t,’ Peggy said briskly, deliberately misunderstanding her daughter’s worries over Martin’s safety. ‘All new mothers panic a bit at first, thinking the worst could happen. But it rarely does, and just think, Anne, in a few months you’ll be holding your baby and wondering what all the fuss was about.’ She took Anne’s hand. ‘Has Martin told his parents yet?’
The happy glow remained, but Anne’s eyes dulled. ‘We decided to wait until the baby’s born,’ she replied. ‘His family have all but ignored us since the wedding and they’ve made it plain they’re not interested in anything we do. Martin and I have decided not to let them
‘It would be a complete waste of time,’ Mrs Finch retorted. ‘This one is perfectly all right once I get the volume correctly balanced.’
The sound of a key turning in the latch made Peggy look up, and her worries over everyone fled as her eldest daughter Anne walked into the kitchen. ‘Darling,’ she breathed as she gave her a hug and kiss. ‘What a lovely surprise. Are you staying the night?’
Anne kissed Mrs Finch’s cheek and gave her a gentle hug. ‘If that’s all right,’ she replied.
‘Of course it is. Your old bed is still in Cissy’s room, all it needs is clean linen.’
‘Thanks, Mum.’ Anne poured a cup of tea and pulled a chair out from the kitchen table. ‘It’s lovely to be out of those barracks and back in this kitchen again. Not that I don’t have huge fun with the other girls,’ she added hastily, ‘and of course the work we do is exciting and challenging. But home is always best.’
‘How are you getting on up there in your cliff caves? The thought of all that chalk over my head would have me screaming mad within minutes.’
‘You forget where you are,’ Anne replied. ‘The plotting of enemy aircraft and shipping takes every ounce of concentration, and when the shift is over, or we’re stood down in a lull, we’re so tired, we sleep most of the time.’
‘Have you managed to see Martin very much?’
Anne sighed as she twirled the rings on her finger. ‘We’ve only been married a matter of months, and I could count the days we’ve had together on one hand.’ A smile teased at the tiny dimple in her cheek. ‘But he’s thinking about buying us a little house we’ve seen that’s only a few miles from the airbase, so that could soon change everything.’
‘But you’ll be working day and night with the Observer Corps, and he’ll be flying endless missions now the Germans are attacking our cities and ports. How will buying a house make any difference?’
The dimple deepened, and Anne’s brown eyes were alight with excitement as she looked at Peggy. ‘In a few months’ time I’ll be a lady of leisure,’ she said. ‘No more barracks, no more night shifts and endless map plotting for me, just the ordinary, everyday chores of a housewife.’
‘But …?’ Peggy suddenly understood and she was flooded with warm happiness. ‘You’re pregnant.’ She leapt from her chair and hugged her daughter, the joy spilling over. ‘How far gone are you? When is it due?’
‘We think it must be a honeymoon baby, because the doctor has given us a delivery date in February.’
‘Oh, Anne,’ said Peggy through her happy tears. ‘How lovely.’
‘Congratulations, my dear,’ chirped Mrs Finch. ‘Come and give me a kiss and then pass me that knitting bag. I’m sure I have some white wool in there and I’ve the perfect pattern for a matinee jacket.’
Peggy and Anne exchanged delighted smiles as Mrs Finch fussed and twittered and rummaged through her vast knitting bag, muttering to herself.
‘Oh, Mum,’ Anne breathed, ‘I’m so happy, and Martin’s over the moon. Once we have that little house, everything will be just perfect. I do so hope nothing spoils it all.’
‘Of course it won’t,’ Peggy said briskly, deliberately misunderstanding her daughter’s worries over Martin’s safety. ‘All new mothers panic a bit at first, thinking the worst could happen. But it rarely does, and just think, Anne, in a few months you’ll be holding your baby and wondering what all the fuss was about.’ She took Anne’s hand. ‘Has Martin told his parents yet?’
The happy glow remained, but Anne’s eyes dulled. ‘We decided to wait until the baby’s born,’ she replied. ‘His family have all but ignored us since the wedding and they’ve made it plain they’re not interested in anything we do. Martin and I have decided not to let them
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