A Reunion at Mulberry Lane. Rosie Clarke

Even though he’d lived in England for some years now, Able still thought in dollars rather than pounds and he kept both American holidays as well as British ones. The twins loved it because it meant more treats for them – Peggy might try not to spoil her twins, but Able gave them everything he could. It was surprising, because although he spoiled them, he only had to say no and even Fay stopped plaguing him.

      Peggy had raised her eyebrows at him over the jukebox, because in the pub during the war she’d only had to ask one of her older customers to entertain them with a song and Alice would perform one of the old musical hall numbers that were still loved by Londoners. However, the youngsters wanted something different these days. Jitterbugging had begun in the war, brought over by the Americans and developing into the Lindy Hop and the new dances that were all the rage in the dance halls now. Able was on the ball with his ideas, but Peggy hoped he wouldn’t raise the cash for that jukebox too soon. They would never have any peace once that was installed.

      Weekday mornings they got older people in for lunch or coffee and teas in the afternoon and they knew most of the regulars by name, but in summer there were lots of tourists from the seaside resort of Torquay, who just came in for coffee and a bun or a snack. That was when they made most of their easy profits, a family-friendly café and that’s what it was, bringing in mums, dads, kids and grandparents.

      ‘Right, time to go,’ Able said and tried the kitchen door, which led out to the small yard at the back. It was locked and secure. They also had a large store out there, where extra stocks of drinks and foodstuffs were kept, but it couldn’t be accessed from outside, only from the kitchen. The arrangement served as extra security, because Able knew that thieves considered small businesses like theirs fair game. He sold a few cigarettes and sweets from behind the counter and that sort of thing was popular with sneak thieves, but they were less likely to come in through the front door under the glare of a street lamp. The security was one of the reasons they’d decided on the place. ‘Come on, Peggy. Anything else will wait until the morning…’

      Peggy’s gaze travelled round the large and spotless kitchen, looking for something she might have missed. The rubbish had all been disposed of in the large bin that the council collected twice a week using a side gate. Peggy used the side door to access it and that had double iron bars across it, because Able considered it their weakest link. Yes, she had locked and bolted it. Everything was done and they could go.

      ‘Yes, I know… I just hope Mavis turns up tomorrow…’

      ‘If she doesn’t, she’s on a week’s notice and we’ll get someone else,’ Able said. ‘If we employed an extra waitress, she could help with the washing up if it gets left to you, Peggy…’

      Able served most of the customers himself across the counter, with a little help from Peggy who did all the cooking. She started early in the morning, cooking her apple pies, sausage rolls and various pastries. Egg and chips or bacon or other hot snacks were cooked when ordered and sandwiches were made fresh on demand. They also did American-style pancakes with various fillings, which were extremely popular, and omelettes with a mixed salad. Peggy found anything with eggs was popular and thought it might be because for years it had been impossible to get fresh eggs, but now they had a plentiful supply straight from the farm near their home. So, the omelettes, salads, savoury tarts, ham sandwiches and Peggy’s apple pie came top of the popularity stakes, closely followed by Able’s pancakes, freshly made at the counter. On Saturday mornings, the youngsters queued up to watch him toss them expertly with one hand and he was regularly given a round of applause.

      The electric mixer Able had bought was a boon to him for making the batter, which he did himself. Peggy removed the blades regularly, replacing them with spares, and washed them so that they were always fresh and clean. It was Mavis’s job to do the washing up, but Peggy helped if she wasn’t cooking and she didn’t quite trust the girl to change the mixer blades often enough. If she was truthful, she didn’t trust Mavis much at all, but the girl had been one of the first to apply and she’d been desperate to get the job, so Peggy had taken her on. She’d had cause to regret it a few times and knew Able was right; they would have to let her go.

      April Jenkins was the part-time waitress they employed at their busiest times and to relieve Peggy for a couple of hours in the evening. She also came in for three hours over lunchtime during the week, when Peggy was busy cooking the simple meals that appealed to so many, because the food was always perfectly cooked. Sometimes, Peggy did casseroles, soups and fancier dishes, but they made their money out of the simple food every time. On Saturdays, April worked until four in the afternoon and they had a cook called Mabel who worked from ten to four; the café closing at four thirty. April was reliable and Peggy liked her, but it wasn’t easy to find a girl who wanted to earn her living washing up endless dishes. Yes, there were plenty of people who would reply to any advert for staff, but they didn’t do things the way Peggy liked. She sometimes thought back to the days when Rose Barton had worked for her at the pub in Mulberry Lane, and how much she’d been able to trust the girl, both in the kitchen and looking after the twins.

      Peggy had had lots of friends to help her in the pub. Her first husband Laurie had served in the bar of the Pig & Whistle until the war, when he’d gone off to do something secret. It had been the beginning of the end of their marriage and she’d learned to live without him – but she’d always had friends: Maureen and Anne and Rose and Peggy’s own daughter, Janet…

      Thinking of her daughter, Peggy frowned. It was nearly a month since she’d seen her and Janet hadn’t been feeling well then. She was recovering slowly after an unfortunate miscarriage. Her first child, Maggie, who was now eight years old and the son of her late husband Mike, was thriving, but Janet had lost her present husband’s child, Harry, soon after his birth and it had devastated them both. Janet had come to stay with Peggy for three months earlier that year to get over it and Peggy had feared that her daughter was in danger of splitting from her husband, but then Janet had pulled herself together and gone home to Ryan.

      Things hadn’t been easy for the two of them; Peggy had read between the lines, seeing the signs of tension both in Ryan and Janet. Her daughter was doing her best, but the loss of yet another baby had knocked her sideways and, unfortunately, she’d tended to take it out on her husband. Ryan had been patient and kind, but men wouldn’t put up with a short-tempered, irritable wife forever. Peggy had tried to give Janet advice, but she’d gone into herself and rejected all help.

      ‘It’s all right for you,’ she’d said accusingly. ‘You don’t lose everyone you love…’

      She was referring to the husband, Mike, she’d lost during the war. It had been a terrible time for Janet and Peggy had been so pleased to see her married to Ryan. She’d thought they had a good marriage, and at first Janet had been truly happy, but since the loss of her son and then the miscarriage, it seemed the couple was suffering.

      Peggy would have to find time to pop and see Janet again soon. It was an hour-and-a-half drive and she didn’t do it as often as she should – perhaps because Janet wasn’t always welcoming. She’d made her own friends and preferred to spend time with them these days, shutting out her mother’s concern for her – just as she had when Mike died. And there was also Pip, Peggy’s son, and his family to think of.

      Pip had taken over the lease of the pub when she’d left London, because he was unable to continue flying as a pilot and although he’d brought his family to her the previous summer, she hadn’t been back to London in a while. Pip didn’t help out in the pub much, because he’d become a designer and now worked for a large company, working mostly from his home and commuting when it was necessary to meet his employers and other members of the design team. His wife, Sheila, ran the Pig & Whistle with help from regular staff and friends, particularly Maureen, and that was in addition to them running the little tea shop in the afternoons, where she also sold cakes over the counter. Peggy thought poor Sheila must be as busy as she was and worried that she might be overdoing things, but whenever she telephoned, her daughter-in-law was always positive. It was Janet who worried her most…

      Sighing, Peggy put her worries from her mind as she drove home. Next month it would be Christmas and she could ask Janet whether she wanted to bring her family