Desperate Measures (7 page)

Jamie and Re nodded but then, unable to stop myself, I burst into tears.

‘You’d better come inside. I’ll make some tea. Best thing for nasty shocks.’ She took one of my nettle-stung hands in her own knobbly arthritic one and felt it with the other. ‘And I suppose we’d better find something for those stings.’

Without another word, she turned and started walking back towards the house, stopping by a large clump of nettles.

‘There’s probably some dock leaves growing nearby,’ she told us. ‘If you pick them and rub them on your skin where you’ve been stung it’ll help.’

I looked down and saw a clump of large green leaves. I picked a couple and handed them to her. ‘Are these the ones?’ I asked. She held them close to her face. ‘That’s them,’ she said. We rubbed the leaves over our stings and it was lovely to get some relief from those painful white bumps.

‘Those mutts don’t belong to me, more’s the pity. Be far better trained if they did. The people down in the lodge own them.’ She waved her stick to indicate their direction. ‘Too lazy to walk them. Let them roam free in my grounds. My brother would have words with them.’ And with that she turned and went into the house.

I wasn’t sure I wanted to go past the lions into the old lady’s house but Vicky said it would be all right. We went up the steps. Jamie patted one of the lions on its head and climbed up on its back.

‘Nothing to be scared of Re. They’re just stone. They won’t bite. They won’t do anything.’

‘But you said —‘

‘I was only teasing.’

I went past them quickly and through the front door.

‘Why’s she got that stick?’ I asked Vicky.

‘I don’t think she can see very well,’ she whispered back. ‘She uses it to feel her way around.’

I shut my eyes for a moment and took a few steps. I knocked into something hard and banged my side. It felt scary. I didn’t know where I was. Vicky pulled my arm.

‘What you doing Re?’

‘Nothing.’ I opened my eyes again and looked round.

The hall was full of old furniture. There were paintings on the walls of people in long time ago clothes, and piles of books and boxes of papers and the biggest piano I’d ever seen and a clock in a big case like in the Hickory Dickory Dock nursery rhyme. Everything was dusty. I don’t think the old lady liked cleaning up much. I don’t either. I’d much rather play with Baby Emma or my Barbies.

We went into the kitchen. There were saucepans hanging down from a rack over an old cooker and a white sink with a green stripy curtain round the bottom of it, a big table and chairs. The old lady picked up the kettle, felt for the tap then filled it and put it on top of the stove.

‘I suppose you’re hungry too,’ she said.

‘I’m starving!’ I told her. ‘We’ve only had doughnuts and apples today.’

‘Doughnuts! Good grief . . . Is that what your parents feed you?’ She shook her head then went over to the fridge. She opened the door and took out some shiny trays like take-away cartons.

I was just about to tell her that it wasn’t our mum or dad that gave us the doughnuts when Vicky started talking very loudly and Jamie told me to shush.

‘It’s very kind of you,’ said Vicky all politely. ‘We don’t usually have doughnuts . . . they were . . . a treat.’

‘Well. That’s something. You’re growing. You need decent food.’ The old lady looked down at the trays and sniffed. ‘Meals on Wheels. Not exactly high cuisine but I
don’t know what I’d do without them.’ She picked each tray up and putting it close to her eyes read the labels on the tops. ‘I’ve got cottage pie, toad in the hole and . . . pasta.’

‘Pasta please!’ I said quickly. I didn’t like the sound of the other things.

‘But we can’t eat your food,’ Vicky said.

‘Yes we can. She said we could!’ I butted in quickly. I was starving.

The old lady laughed. ‘It’s quite all right my dear,’ she said to Vicky as she put the trays into the oven. ‘Marion’ll be round tomorrow afternoon to drop off another lot. I’ll just tell her I was hungry this week. She’ll be very pleased. She’s always saying I’ve got no appetite . . . Now my brother – he’s a different kettle of fish. He could eat a horse and still have room for pud.’

‘Eurgh. I wouldn’t eat a horse,’ I said. ‘Even if I was really really hungry.’

The old lady laughed but I meant it.

She’d been named Elizabeth Margaret after the Queen and her sister. When she was a child growing up during the Second World War, her family had lived on the outskirts of London in a big house, but because it had been so dangerous with all the bombs and air raids every night, she and her brother Lionel were evacuated. They hadn’t wanted to leave their parents or each other but they’d had no choice. So, at the age of twelve, armed with a little box containing her gas mask and a small suitcase of clothes, she’d taken the train to Devon with the rest of the girls and teachers from her school. Her brother was sent to Canada on a ship called the
City of Benares
. It left Liverpool docks on 13th September 1940 with ninety children on board. By then Elizabeth was already in Devon. Lionel was just ten – the same age as Jamie.

As we sipped our tea, she took down an old brown tin
from a shelf with ‘Sharpe’s Toffees’ written in gold lettering on the top and round the sides. It was full of curled, faded photos of her and her brother taken before the war.

‘We were pretty much free range at your age. Especially in the school holidays. Out after breakfast, back when it got dark. Exploring usually. Every day with Lionel was an adventure.’

We looked through the photos together. They were happy smiling pictures, taken at the seaside or on picnics or at Christmas. Lionel was almost as tall as Elizabeth with blond hair, suntanned skin and a cheeky wide-mouthed grin.

‘Well, this won’t get the baby bathed,’ said Elizabeth with a small sigh, getting up briskly. She went over to the oven. As she opened the door, heat filled the kitchen, which she wafted away with her frail bird-like arm.

‘As ready as they’ll ever be,’ she said as she slowly took out the foil containers and put them on to the table. She told us where to get the plates and cutlery and I served up the food while Re and Jamie laid out the knives and forks.

We sat round the table and ate hungrily as Elizabeth poured herself another cup of tea and sipped it slowly.

I tried to say as little as possible about us but it was difficult. Elizabeth wasn’t nosy or anything. It wasn’t that. She didn’t keep asking questions. In fact, she didn’t really ask many at all but there was something about her. Something that made me let things slip. Things I wanted to keep hidden. I told her we hadn’t meant to do anything wrong, we’d just got a bit lost and were taking a
short cut through her grounds. She just nodded as if this sort of thing happened every day. Then it came out that we were heading for the station because we were going to our Great Aunt’s house. Somehow, maybe because she’d told us all about being evacuated, and because Jamie was the same age as her brother when he was put on that ship to Canada, I started explaining about us being fostered and how we were going to be split up. She was quiet for a moment. I thought she was getting ready to tell us we’d better go straight back home. But she didn’t.

‘It’s a terrible thing for a family to be separated. Not knowing whether you’ll ever see people you love again,’ she said softly.

We helped clear away the plates and I washed them up in the big stone sink. Jamie and Re wiped them dry and placed them back on the shelves.

Then Jamie asked if we could explore the house. I could tell he’d been itching to do this since we’d come inside.

Elizabeth smiled. ‘It’s not looking its best,’ she said.

‘We don’t mind,’ retorted Jamie and he was off in a flash.

It was a huge and rambling mansion just like the one from
The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe
, with long dark passages, heavy antique furniture and threadbare tapestries hanging from the walls. There was even a suit of armour, which freaked Re out but enthralled Jamie who was desperate to try it on. I put my foot down and told him no. There were nine bedrooms upstairs, two with four poster beds, complete with heavy moth-eaten curtains draped round them so they looked like huge holey
tents. My friend Rosie would have had a field day. Every single room had its own fireplace, even the big old bathroom with its huge rusty-edged bath and cracked black and white tiles.

We were just about to go back downstairs when we saw a small door at the end of the passageway.

‘Wonder what’s through there,’ said Jamie, quickly diving round the door. I followed him in and gasped. It was a boy’s bedroom – the most amazing boy’s room ever.

Laid out on the floor against the walls of the room ran a miniature train track complete with model bridges, tunnels, buildings, trees and people. Spaced around the track were about ten different engines each with an assortment of carriages and each one a detailed intricate replica of the real thing. On the chests of drawers there were models of ships, including a battleship, a pirate ship with sails and skull and crossbones flag and a passenger steamer with a big wheel attached to its side.

Hanging from the ceiling were models of old-fashioned aeroplanes, all covered in a film of dust but every one carefully made and painted. It was like Jamie had died and gone to heaven. He didn’t know what to start with first.

We didn’t hear Elizabeth come in.

‘This is Lionel’s room,’ she said softly. ‘He built all those planes himself.’

Jamie had already picked up one of the trains and was examining it.

‘Will he mind if Jamie touches his stuff?’ I asked quickly.

‘Of course not,’ she replied.

I looked round for Rhianna. She’d disappeared. Out in the hallway there was no sign or sound of her. I felt a slight twinge of panic.

‘Re?’ I called.

There was no answer.

‘She won’t have gone far,’ said Elizabeth as we started checking all the upstairs rooms. ‘Don’t worry,’ she added, realising I was getting anxious.

‘You wouldn’t think we were twins,’ I told her. I explained that Re had been starved of oxygen when she was born. ‘Nothing’s easy for her. She can’t manage on her own so I sort of have to help her with stuff.’

The old lady looked at me with her cloudy pale-blue eyes. ‘Her time will come.’

I didn’t understand. Re wasn’t suddenly going to get a new brain and I didn’t believe in miracle cures. So what did she mean?

We eventually found Re in one of the spare bedrooms in the four-poster bed, curled up and fast asleep under a beautiful golden silky eiderdown. On the pillow next to her lay a small china ornament about three inches tall. A black and white penguin with a cheeky smile and a pink bow tie.

I leaned forward to take it but Elizabeth stopped me.

‘It’s all right. Don’t wake Sleeping Beauty,’ she whispered with a smile.

It did seem cruel to wake her. I glanced out of the window. It was beginning to get dark. We should have left hours ago. The peacocks were screeching as they prepared to settle
down for the night. I wondered if the people in the lodge had let their dogs loose again. I thought I could hear them barking in the distance. The garden no longer looked like a jungle; it was just a tangled mass of black shadows. Anything could be lurking out there. I wasn’t looking forward to leaving – I was dreading it.

I didn’t want to be the one in charge any more, sorting everything and everyone out. I just wanted to be an ordinary fourteen-year-old kid with no decisions bigger than whether to buy a teen mag or a bar of chocolate.

I sighed. I felt completely lost.

‘You can stay here tonight if you think that’s best,’ said Elizabeth.

I nodded. Relieved.

‘Thank you.’

Elizabeth hesitated then took my hand in hers.

‘Come with me. I want to show you something,’ she said.

We went downstairs into the sitting room. There was a dusty old bureau in the corner of the room. Propping her white stick against it, she flopped down the lid and fumbled inside, finally pulling out an old paper folder. Inside was a single, yellow, slightly mildewed newspaper cutting. She handed it to me. It was dated 28th September 1940. There was a black and white photo of the ship the
City of Benares
.

I looked at Elizabeth. She gave a small firm nod. I read on. The ship had been torpedoed by a German submarine six hundred miles out at sea. Only seven of the ninety evacuee children had survived.

‘My brother wasn’t one of those lucky seven, unfortunately. He never got to Canada and he never came home.’ Her voice was full of sadness and regret. ‘There’s not a single day goes by that I don’t think about him.’ She looked me in the eye. ‘Vicky, I’m an old woman. Lots has changed since I was your age. But some things stay the same and are always important – brothers and sisters, parents . . . families. You have a choice about what you do. You can choose to go on . . . or you can go back. It’s up to you and I can’t tell you what’s best. But there’s one thing I will say: desperate times call for desperate measures.’

It was funny waking up in Elizabeth’s house. It was cosy and warm in the bed. I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to stay under the lovely silky yellow cover but Vicky was already up and putting on her trainers.

‘Come on, Re, time to get out of bed,’ she said.

‘I don’t want to. I’m tired.’ I picked up the little penguin on my pillow and stroked its shiny head.

‘We’ve got a train to catch. The sooner we get going, the sooner we get to Great Auntie Irene’s.’

‘But I’m really really tired.’

‘You can have a big sleep when we get to Great Auntie Irene’s. You can sleep for a whole week if you like!’

‘I want to sleep now.’

Vicky sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at me. ‘Don’t you remember how much you loved it when
we were there on holiday?’

I nodded.

‘Well it’s going to be like that but even better. Because we’re going to live there, it’ll be like we’re on holiday all the time.’

‘Really?’

Vicky nodded. ‘Every single day,’ she said.