Far From Home (23 page)

‘You look nice,’ said Cissy. ‘I’m glad you let me cut your hair, it really suits you with a fringe.’

Danuta blushed and hurried to help sort out the chairs.

‘Where are our visitors?’ asked Polly.

‘Out the back, probably making a terrible mess in my kitchen,’ said Peggy, ‘but I don’t care. We’re having steak and eggs this lunchtime instead of scrag-end and pigeon stew. Won’t that be a treat?’

Jim shook his head and frowned, still clearly bothered by the Australians’ apparent eagerness to be in the kitchen. ‘’Tis a poor thing when men are doing women’s work,’ he muttered. ‘I thought those Aussies were supposed to be rough and tough. What do you think, Dad?’

‘I don’t care who does it, as long as they don’t burn that steak,’ Ron said round the stem of his pipe as he folded his hands over his belly and leant back in his chair.

Polly smiled, helped herself to a beer and tiptoed into the hall so she could have a peek at what was happening in Peggy’s kitchen. She frowned when she discovered it was deserted, and then simply looked puzzled as she heard the loud voices and barks of laughter coming from the garden.

Crossing the kitchen, she looked out of the window and giggled. The three Australians were standing around what looked like a dustbin with a blazing fire inside it. On the top of this strange object were two grilles – probably the shelves from someone’s oven – and on top of them was a frying pan full of chopped onions, and at least a dozen steaks sizzling in the heat and sending up the most heavenly aroma.

Harvey was lying panting at their feet, tongue lolling, eyebrows twitching as his eyes followed their every movement. One of the men threw him a titbit, and he snapped his jaws round it, swallowing it without even bothering to chew first.

Polly’s mouth was watering at the wonderful smells drifting up to her as she stood in the kitchen and watched. They turned the meat and sipped their beers, their drawling conversation not quite reaching her. They didn’t seem to notice the scudding clouds and darkening skies that threatened rain; they were too engrossed in their cooking to notice much of anything.

She ducked out of sight when one of them looked up, and hurried back into the dining room. ‘You don’t need to worry about your kitchen, Peggy,’ she said as she sat down. ‘They’re cooking our lunch in the garden.’

Peggy’s eyes widened in horror. ‘In the garden?’

‘On a dustbin they’ve turned into some kind of brazier.’

‘I wondered why they brought a dustbin,’ murmured Peggy. ‘How very strange. Still, they
are
Australians, so I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised.’

‘Tucker’s up,’ said Joe some while later. He stepped into the dining room ahead of the others and they placed the loaded plates on the table and pulled the chairs out for the women. ‘There you are, ladies, what d’ya think of that?’

Like everyone else, Polly stared at the plate before her, her mouth watering and her stomach gurgling with anticipation. The succulent steak was capped with a glistening fried egg, and nestled between sliced onion and a handful of early mushrooms. None of them had seen food like this for a year.

Murmurs of appreciation floated round the room but then, as they picked up their knives and forks and began to tuck in, there was almost complete silence.

It had been so long since Polly had eaten steak that she’d forgotten how delicious it could be. She closed her eyes and savoured the perfectly cooked meat, letting the flavour sing in her mouth as she slowly relished each morsel. Pricking the bright yellow yolk, she watched it ooze over the meat before she mopped it up with a slither of the crisp, brown fat that ran along the top of the steak. It was nectar – food for the gods. And she doubted an egg had ever tasted better.

The meal continued with only murmurs of delight and the scraping of cutlery against china to disturb the silence. And when it was over, each of them almost reverently placed their knives and forks together and leant back with a deep sigh of satisfaction tinged with regret that the meal had come to an end.

‘To be sure, that was the best meal I’ve had in years,’ said Jim, voicing everyone’s thoughts. He lifted his bottle of beer. ‘I salute you, boys. Well done, and thank you.’

Everyone talked at once, giving their thanks, and going over every morsel they’d eaten, trying to describe the sheer magnificence of the meal as the Australian boys became ever more bashful.

Peggy caught Polly’s eye. ‘I’ll make a pot of tea,’ she murmured.

‘I’ll come with you.’

They slipped out of the room, then Polly almost walked straight into Peggy, who’d come to a complete standstill in the kitchen doorway. ‘What is it? They can’t have wrecked the place, surely?’

Peggy shook her head. ‘Far from it,’ she murmured. ‘In fact I’ve never seen it so clean. And look,’ she breathed. ‘Look what they’ve given us.’ She pointed to the shelf above her immaculate, shining range where there sat four large packets of tea, and two bags of sugar. On the draining board, next to the spotless frying pan, stood three packets of lard, and one of butter.

‘Oh, Polly,’ she sighed. ‘They’ve been so very kind to us. We don’t deserve it.’

‘You’ve made us feel at home, Mrs Reilly,’ said Joe, who had silently followed them into the kitchen. ‘This place is like my ma’s kitchen back in Sydney, and she’d like to know you’ve been good to us blokes.’

‘But I’ve done nothing really,’ she protested.

‘You’ve been like a mum to those girls in there, and that’s enough. Without them nursing us back to health, we wouldn’t be here today, and that’s a fact.’

‘Oh dear,’ sniffed Peggy, scrabbling for the handkerchief she always kept up her sleeve in case of emergencies. ‘I think I’m going to make a complete fool of myself.’

‘Aw, fair go, missus. Don’t be doing that. You go and sit down. I’m sure Polly won’t mind making the tea, will you, love?’

‘Of course not.’

Polly was grinning as she set the large kettle on the hob and made herself busy with cups and saucers. She could easily understand why Fran, Suzy and June were so besotted with these young Australians. Their smiles and cheerful, relaxed outlook on life seemed to bring the very essence of their hot, red homeland right into this kitchen – making it sunnier, somehow, even though the sky was grey and it had begun to rain.

She frowned as she heard furniture being moved and wondered what on earth they were doing in the dining room. She took the kettle off the hob again, and peeked round the door.

The tables had been pushed to one side, the rug rolled back into the bay. Music was already playing, and the three girls had been swung into an enthusiastic dance by their Australian admirers.

Polly tapped her feet to the music as she watched, but she noted the envy in Cissy’s eyes as Joe danced with June, and the wistfulness in Danuta’s. It was strange how music played with the emotions, affecting everyone in a different way, but touching them all the same. For Polly it was the memory of those barn dances after harvest when Adam would twirl her round until she was breathless. For Danuta, she speculated, perhaps it was wilder dances to strange music in gloomy stone castles and cobbled streets, and for Mrs Finch, perhaps memories of her youth?

She laughed as Jim grabbed a protesting Peggy and whirled her round enthusiastically, and applauded when Ron sedately led Mrs Finch on to the floor and proceeded to dance a quite admirable two-step in the corner where they wouldn’t get crushed in the mayhem of the boogie-woogie that was all the rage at the moment.

Polly decided to leave the tea for now. Everyone was still drinking beer, and tea didn’t seem to fit the occasion any more. She smiled as she sat down next to Danuta. She would have a lot of lovely things to tell Adam tonight.

DANUTA WISHED THAT
Polly hadn’t had to leave for the hospital so soon after helping to do the washing-up. But she was on night shift, and wanted to spend some time with Adam first, so Danuta had steeled herself to join in the fun, not really certain whether she would fit in.

It seemed that she did, and Danuta hadn’t protested at all when Davy grabbed her hand and swung her into a hectic dance. She was enjoying herself – enjoying the music and laughter and these precious carefree hours when they could all forget the war, and just be young again.

Having danced until she was breathless and giddy, she collapsed into the chair beside Mrs Finch and took a long draught of the lukewarm beer that tasted so different to Polish beer, which was always served ice-cold.

‘It’s good to see you having a bit of fun,’ shouted Mrs Finch above the noise. ‘I must say, these Australians know how to have a good time.’

‘I’m thinking you are having fun too,
Babunia
,’ she teased. ‘I saw you dancing in the corner with Ron. You make a lovely couple.’

Mrs Finch tried to look offended and failed. ‘I was merely joining in with the spirit of the party,’ she said. She leant closer. ‘But Ron and I are of the generation where people dance properly,’ she confided, casting a bewildered eye over the shenanigans going on before her. ‘There was none of this hoogie-googie nonsense in my day.’

‘It’s boogie-woogie,
Babunia
. Joe says the dance comes from America.’

Mrs Finch sniffed with derision. ‘I might have known,’ she said. ‘The Americans never did have any taste – and certainly no stomach for war. They didn’t come into the last one until 1917, you know, and I suspect they’ll leave it until the last minute before they join in this time.’

Danuta didn’t really want to get into politics with the old lady, so she sipped her beer, leant back in her chair and watched the fun.

Cissy was dancing with Joe now, the music a little softer and slower, his arm round her waist as she blushed prettily and rested her forehead lightly against his broad shoulder. The ankle seemed to have made a miraculous recovery, Danuta thought wryly – this morning she’d used it as an excuse to get out of cleaning the dining room.

Peggy and Jim were waltzing happily, looking content with each other, and Fran was dancing with Davy, June with Mike. But June was not concentrating on Mike; she was too busy shooting jealous darts at Cissy, who was now dreamily embraced
against
Joe’s broad chest as they swayed to the music.

Danuta could see only trouble ahead, and was wondering what to do about it when Peggy stepped in.

‘This is a lady’s excuse-me, I think,’ she said brightly. ‘Come on, Joe, give an old lady a bit of a dance, will you? Jim’s feeling his age and can’t keep up the pace.’

Cissy stuck out her bottom lip and flounced back to her chair as her mother waltzed off with Joe. It would have been quite funny, thought Danuta, if only Joe hadn’t looked like that over Peggy’s shoulder to Cissy, and June hadn’t glared at both of them. It was clear their attraction was mutual, but June could cause serious trouble if it went on much longer.

The party finished two hours later and, after putting the room to rights and washing all the glasses and cups, the Australians and the three nurses prepared to leave for another fund-raising dance, this time at the Town Hall.

‘Will you be coming with us, Danuta?’ asked Suzy, her little face lit up with a bright smile as she clung to Davy’s arm.

Danuta shook her head, even though she would have loved to have joined them. ‘I have very early start tomorrow,’ she said sadly. ‘Perhaps next time?’

‘I’ll keep you to that,’ replied Suzy. ‘And what about you, Cissy? That ankle looks as if it’ll hold up.’

‘I don’t think Cissy ought to risk doing
further
damage to that ankle,’ said June coolly, ‘and I’m sure she doesn’t want to go out with that black eye
just
yet.’

Cissy was clearly torn between her desire to put June in her place and go out dancing, and the knowledge that she looked a fright with all that bruising round her eyes. ‘I could cover it with make-up,’ she said hopefully.

‘You look fair dinkum as you are, love,’ said Joe, blissfully unaware of the friction between the two girls.

June’s glare could have stunned a mule – but Joe seemed impervious to it as he grinned at Cissy. ‘As a nurse,’ June said, digging into his ribs with a sharp elbow, ‘I wouldn’t recommend her dancing any more on that ankle. As it is, she’s had to give up her place in the dance troupe, and I don’t think her manager would appreciate catching sight of her prancing about at the Town Hall.’

Joe looked down at her and frowned. ‘Strewth, love,’ he breathed, ‘I only said …’

‘I think enough has been said,’ said Peggy, as she chivvied everyone out of the room. ‘Come along. The dance starts in half an hour, and you don’t want to be late, do you?’

Joe looked over his shoulder at a mournful Cissy as he pulled on his large coat and settled his hat firmly over his hair. ‘It’s been a pleasure, Mrs Reilly,’ he drawled. ‘Me and the other blokes are real grateful for your hospitality.’

The three of them shook hands with everyone, and called Mrs Finch ‘little Ma’ as they gently kissed her cheek – which made her blush and twitter like a flustered robin.

‘Will we see you before you leave for wherever you’re going?’ asked Jim.

June’s lips formed a thin line as she caught the glance Joe gave to Cissy – and this time Joe noticed her displeasure. There were spots of high colour on his cheeks as he replied. ‘I reckon we might be a bit busy, mate,’ he replied, not quite meeting Jim’s gaze. ‘We’ve a lot to do before we’re shipped out.’