Home Front Girls (19 page)

Joel

Annabelle folded the letter and slid it back beneath her pillow. It was quite a formal letter really; he had even signed it
kind regards
, but she was still pleased to think he had remembered her. Sighing, she burrowed back beneath the blankets.

As Miranda read the newspaper in the kitchen she shivered, and not only from the chill air. It was bad news, and now with the bad weather to contend with as well, her spirits were at an all-time low. Annabelle’s tantrums didn’t help, not that she wasn’t well used to them. She had been forced to admit that she and Richard had spoiled Annabelle shamelessly, and now that he was away at war it was she who was paying the price. She rose and spooned some tea leaves sparingly into the teapot, aware that the meagre ration she had left was supposed to last them for the rest of the week. Perhaps if she took a cup up to Annabelle it might coax her daughter out of bed and put her in a better mood? She could but try.

Lucy and Dotty meantime had just met up outside Owen Owen and were heading for the staff cloak room.

‘No sign of Annabelle again then?’ Lucy commented as she glanced around. The place was nowhere near as busy as it usually was in the morning. Almost half of the staff hadn’t managed to make it in.

‘Doesn’t look like it,’ Dotty replied. ‘I bet there were no buses running again.’

‘Hmm, though I don’t think Annabelle needs much of an excuse to miss work,’ Lucy joked. ‘We’re lucky compared to most, according to the paper. Some villages are completely cut off and they’re having to drop food for the villagers and the livestock by plane.’

‘It must be awful for them,’ Dotty said sympathetically. ‘But anyway, are you still prepared to come and have a look for a typewriter with me during our lunch break? They should have cleared the main roads by then and I’ve seen a nice one in the window of a pawnshop a couple of streets away. It’s an Olivetti.’

‘Of course I’ll come with you,’ Lucy told her. ‘I’ve got to pick up a few more things for Mary as well to take with her next week.’ Her face fell. It was only a matter of days now before Mary was evacuated, and she could think of nothing else. It was like a great black cloud hanging over her as she fretted about how the child would cope. ‘I need to pick her up one of those little cardboard suitcases from Woolworths,’ she went on glumly. ‘The ones I have would be far too big and heavy for her.’

Dotty patted her hand. She knew that there was nothing she could say that would make Lucy feel any better, and she felt sorry for her.

‘We’ll do that then. But now we’d better get to work. With so many staff off they’ll probably have us running from one department to another today.’

By morning break-time both the girls were fed up.

‘Talk about going from one extreme to another,’ Dotty said as she paid for a cup of tea and headed towards their table. ‘There we were at Christmas and New Year run off our feet, and now the store is almost empty. It’s like a ghost town.’

‘That’s hardly surprising, is it?’ Lucy answered. ‘I mean, who is going to venture out in this weather unless they absolutely have to?’

‘I know what you mean, but I haven’t been idle although there aren’t many customers,’ Dotty said. ‘Mrs Broadstairs has had me tidying all morning. I think I’d sooner be serving.’

‘Me too,’ Lucy said despondently. ‘But at least we can get out for a while at lunchtime.’

Once in the pawnbrokers, Dotty stroked the keys of the Olivetti typewriter with a wide smile on her face.

‘It’s almost brand new,’ the shopkeeper said persuasively. ‘And an absolute bargain at the price I’m asking for it.’

‘I’ll take it,’ she told him, and she and Lucy left the shop with the typewriter packed into a sturdy cardboard box.

‘We’ve still got time to get to Woolworth’s,’ Dotty said. ‘But we’ll have to take it in turns to carry this, if you don’t mind. It’s heavier than it looks.’

Once Lucy had purchased the little cardboard suitcase from Woolworths they hurried back to Owen Owen. It had started to snow heavily again and Dotty cursed breathlessly, ‘Damn weather. When is it going to stop?’

Once back in the staff cloakroom they put their purchases away in their lockers then hurried up to the staff dining room with just enough time left to snatch a cup of tea before they were due back at work.

‘Why don’t you come round tonight after work?’ Lucy suggested during their afternoon break. She was feeling very down in the dumps.

Dotty shook her head. ‘I won’t tonight, if you don’t mind. I’ve got my typewriter to get home and if this snow keeps coming I might not be able to get back from your house later on.’

‘You could always stay the night and we could travel to work together in the morning then,’ Lucy suggested, but still Dotty refused. She wanted to get home and practise on her typewriter.

That evening the buses were running very late, so it was gone seven o’clock by the time Lucy arrived to pick Mary up from Mrs P. It felt strange to think that this would be the last week she would need to do it.

‘Ah, yer look all in,’ Mrs P said as she stepped through the door. ‘Come an’ have a warm by the fire an’ a nice hot cuppa, eh?’

Mary gratefully did as she was told, and noticing the package she was carrying Mrs P remarked, ‘You got her suitcase then?’

‘Mm, I did, but there were only two left.’ Lucy glanced towards Mary who was sitting staring into the flames in the fire and her heart ached as she wondered where she might be this time next week. They were going to make her a special tea on Saturday for her birthday and she had invited Dotty and Annabelle, but she doubted Mary would understand that it was her birthday.

‘I made her cake today,’ Mrs P told Lucy as she passed her a mug of tea. ‘An’ though I shouldn’t say it I’m quite pleased wi’ it, though I’d have liked to have had a few more currants to go in it an’ I had to use that horrible dried-egg stuff.’ She grimaced. The rationing was hitting hard now and everyone was having to do without certain foods, eggs being one of them.

‘Still, I’ve no doubt it will do once I’ve put a bit o’ me special pink icin’ on it,’ she went on more cheerfully with an indulgent glance at Mary. The woman was going to miss the child almost as much as Lucy would, but she was trying not to think about it at present.

‘I’m going to pack her case tonight,’ Lucy said. ‘Just to make sure that I’ve got everything.’ Every spare penny had been spent on the things that Mary would need to take with her, because Lucy wanted her to go with everything brand new. Mrs P secretly thought it was a complete waste of money. The way she saw it, the clothes that Mary already had were perfectly respectable, but then, knowing how upset Lucy was about her little sister going away, she had refrained from voicing her opinion. Best let the poor lass deal with it in her own way.

‘That might be a good idea,’ she said tactfully. ‘Then if you’ve forgotten anything you’ll have time enough to get it.’

Later that night, when Mary was tucked up in bed, Lucy began the heartbreaking job of packing her small case, ticking off each thing as she carefully folded it.

2 vests

Spare pair of knickers

Nightdress

Petticoat

2 pairs stockings

6 handkerchiefs

Blouse

Cardigan

Skirt

Boots

Shoes

Wellington boots

And finally a wash-bag containing a brush, comb, toothbrush, soap, flannel, ribbons, and anything else that Lucy felt the little girl might need, including her teddy bear.

By the time she was done, tears were rolling down her cheeks unchecked. All that was left to do now was count down the days until it was time for Mary to leave.

Thankfully, for now at least she had a reprieve, as she got home from work the next evening to find Mrs P grinning like a cat that had got the cream.

‘You’ve had a visit from a woman from the Red Cross today,’ she told Lucy with glee. ‘I went to the door an’ explained you were at work an’ I had young Mary, so she asked me to pass on a message. Seems half the trains ain’t runnin’ what wi’ the weather bein’ so bad, so the long an’ the short of it is, Mary won’t be goin’ next week. The lady told me she’d let us know when the next lot of evacuees are goin’.’

‘Really?’ Lucy’s face lit up and suddenly she felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders – for now, at least.

Everyone said that Mrs P had done Mary proud on Saturday when they came to celebrate the child’s fifth birthday. The cake was delicious and Mrs P had even found some candles to put on it although Lucy had to blow them out as they all sang ‘Happy Birthday’ to Mary. She was off with the fairies in a world of her own as usual, and Annabelle wondered why they had bothered. The poor little mite clearly didn’t even know where she was, let alone what day it was.

Once the party was over, Mrs P insisted on keeping Mary so that the three girls could go to the pictures together. They set off for the Gaumont to see
Gulliver’s Travels
.

On the way back to the bus station, Annabelle almost spoiled the night when she asked, ‘Any news about when Mary might be evacuated yet?’

Dotty scowled a warning at her. Annabelle could be very thoughtless. But Lucy answered civilly enough. ‘No, not yet.’

By now, the snow had finally stopped; the big thaw had set in and everywhere was slushy and dirty. It was still bitterly cold too, but gradually the country was churning back into life as roads reopened and people could get back into work again.

After the film, which they’d all enjoyed, the three girls went their separate ways, feeling all the better after the break from routine.

Two weeks later, Lucy returned home from work one evening to find Mrs P close to tears. She guessed instantly what was wrong. ‘You’ve had a visit from the Red Cross, haven’t you?’ she asked.

‘Yes, luvvie – or should I say
you
did. It was the same woman that came to say Mary’s going was delayed, an’ guessin’ that you’d be at work she came to leave the message with me. They want you to have her up at the school playground for ten o’clock next Monday mornin’. They’ll take the little ’uns by coach to the station, and they’ll journey on by train from there.’

Lucy had known it was coming, but the news still knocked her for six. She wondered again how the child would cope with being sent away, but of course she had no answer to that question and even if she had, there was nothing she could do about it.

‘Did they say where she might be going?’ she asked tearfully.

Mrs P shook her head. ‘I don’t think they know till they get ’em to the station. Someone from the WVS travels with ’em from there an’ then you’ll get a postcard givin’ you the address. I’m so sorry, love.’

Lucy shrugged. ‘It’s not your fault. We knew it was bound to happen, and if we do get raided, I dare say she’ll be safer out of the city.’

Mrs P nodded sadly, too full of emotion to speak.

The following Sunday evening, Lucy kept Mary up until the child’s eyelids were drooping with fatigue, aware that this would be the very last evening they would share together for possibly a very long time. She made the child her favourite jam sandwiches for supper and rocked her on her lap in front of the fire, then when they finally went to bed she wrapped the child in her arms and held her close as her heart ached. It was so hard to try and imagine the house without Mary in it, but she rightly guessed that many more women across the city would be suffering the exact same heartache. She had tried to be strong, but once Mary was asleep Lucy lay in bed savouring the feel of the warm little body in her arms and allowed the tears she had held back to slide down her cheeks as the hours ticked away.

On Monday morning, Lucy dressed the little girl cosily in the smart red coat and tied her woollen bonnet beneath her chin, then with a heavy heart she placed the brown label with Mary’s name and address on it around her neck and lifted the child’s suitcase. It was almost time to go, but first she had promised Mrs P that she would call round so that she could say her goodbyes.

The poor woman tried unsuccessfully not to cry as she kissed the child but it was useless, and soon both she and Lucy were sobbing, although Mary stood quite still showing no emotion whatsoever.

‘I’ve made her a couple o’ cakes to eat on the way,’ Mrs P said, thrusting them at Lucy in a brown paper bag. ‘Yer did remember to do her some sandwiches fer the journey, didn’t yer?’

Lucy nodded as she turned for the door. There was no sense in prolonging the agony and Mrs P followed her out onto the pavement, her head covered in a headsquare, wrapped turban-like around her metal curlers.

‘Goodbye, luvvie, an’ may God go with yer,’ she called as the sisters set off along the cold street.