‘P-p-peggy,’ she stammered.
‘Oh, Jesus, she can’t even talk proper! Well, Peggy, you just stand right there until Stella gets back. She’s in charge around here and I’m guessing she will want to have a word or two with you – that’s if you’re lucky. She might want more than a word, get one of the fellas to help out. You see the thing is, Peggy, you can’t just come down here and take someone’s patch when you fancy. It doesn’t work that way, because if you did, others might think it’s easy and fancy their chances, and we can’t have that, can we? I think someone needs to teach you a lesson, P-p-peggy.’
Peggy shuffled forwards; the water wasn’t that far… if she could just get to the edge… but the woman stood in her way. ‘Oh no yer don’t! You aren’t going anywhere, missus, you stand right there until I say otherwise.’
Chapter Twenty-two
Maggie Trott looked in the mirror and checked her newly applied make-up. Cindy had given her a list of essential items and she had made the trip into town and bought her own supplies, to match those Cindy had used. Coty foundation and blusher, Outdoor Girl mascara in a palette with a brush, liquid eyeliner in a bottle, Aqua-green eyeshadow which went well with her hair and Portrait Pink lipstick were lined up before her.
‘Rub a bit of the lippy into your cheeks before you put it on your lips,’ Cindy had said. ‘It gives the blusher a boost and really makes a difference.’
When Cindy had finished restyling her fiery red hair and completed her makeover, Maggie had had to lean forward in the chair to check the reflection was really her. Her hair, which was normally straight unless she had slept in her curlers, crowned her head in ringlets. Her eyes peered back at her, twice as large as usual, and her lips pouted. She had always had good bone structure, but it had never looked as good as it did right now, defined by the powder and blush. Maggie was transformed. She looked thirty-five at the most. Her face had been spared the wrinkles and lines of other women her age, who spent their summers on the front step in a chair, watching the children play out in the street and her complexion was flawless.
Now she smiled at her own reflection. Her face looked just the way Cindy had made it up, earlier in the week.
‘There you go, you look amazing,’ Cindy had said as she spun Maggie around in her chair with a flourish.
‘It – it doesn’t look anything like me,’ gasped Maggie.
Cindy laughed. ‘I know, nothing like you, isn’t it great? Honestly, I’m a magician. Women come in here and a couple of hours later they walk out with new hair and it changes them. Listen, me and our Reg are going down to the Admiral on Wednesday – why don’t you come and join us? Shall I knock on for you at half seven?’
‘Oh no, no. People will think I’m trying to be something I’m not at my age, mutton dressed as lamb.’
Cindy pushed Maggie back down into the chair. ‘Maggie, look at you – you are gorgeous. It’s been time to move on for years. Every other woman widowed in the war from around here has remarried and had a second lot of kids and they’ve moved on, but not you. You’ve carried a torch around for way too long. Everyone knows it and, what is more, you know it too. Look, come out with us, will you? Just once. And if you don’t feel comfortable then, well, my Reg will walk you back, I promise. If you say no, I’ll never do your hair again.’
Maggie had grinned and felt her resolve weaken. ‘Oh, go on then – but first I’m going into town to get myself some of that tutty you’ve just put on my face!’
‘Good, well, we’ll be at your back gate at half seven. Tell you what, if you start coming out at night with us and you keep this look up, you won’t be single for very long. Time for a quick ciggie before you go?’
Cindy had winked as she pulled the packet of cigarettes out of her pocket and Maggie longed to confide in her, to tell her there was only one man she ever thought she could trust. A man she had known since he was a thin and gangly teenager, about to go to war. A man who was completely unavailable, so Cindy’s prediction would never come to pass.
Now, as she waited for Cindy and Reg to call for her, she felt excited and nervous at the same time, felt the familiar loneliness seep through her body, compounded by the silence of the house. She thought of Eric, of how she had let her life slip by, worrying about the little things, like making sure the front step was never dirty, that her nets were washed every third Monday. That her windows shone, the cat was fed, the range blackened and that she always had a bit put by. If she carried on as she was, she would wake up one morning and nothing would have changed and she would be past it. No, she could not let that happen. A clean step didn’t make her laugh. The nets couldn’t keep her warm at night.
Maggie took a deep breath and spoke to her reflection. ‘Come on, you! Woman up, you’re a long
