Katy Parker and the House that Cried (9 page)

“Is pudding any better?” she asked hopefully as she finished her last bite. The girls giggled again.

“Pudding's just as bad. Wait and see,” replied a serious-looking girl, who seemed to be squinting behind a pair of very thick glasses. The table monitors returned, plonking a large bowl unceremoniously in the centre of the table. Katy held out her bowl and a white, glutinous substance was spooned into it.

“Tapioca?” she asked uncertainly, looking at the unappetising mess in her bowl.

The girls smiled knowingly at one another and then chorused, “Frogspawn!”

Katy put down her spoon, trying to ignore the rumbling in her tummy.

“I'm not hungry anymore!”

Much to her relief, the girls spooned Katy's portion back into the large bowl and divided it amongst themselves.

When lunch was finally over, Mother Superior, who sat with all the other teachers on the long top-table, rang a small handbell and the whole hall fell silent. She stood up, made the sign of the cross and began a lengthy prayer. Only then were the pupils finally dismissed, table-by-table and allowed some free time.

“Follow me,” said Hillary to Katy. “I'll take you to my favourite spot.” She led Katy up the familiar path across the school field to the oak tree where Katy and Lizzie spent most of their lunchtimes. Hillary threw down her school bag, lay on the grass with her feet propped up on the trunk and proceeded to chat non-stop.

“Have you got any brothers or sisters?” Katy asked, finally getting a word in.

“Of course, I'm one of seven! Our Mark's the eldest. He's twenty-one and in the Royal Air Force,” she replied proudly, pulling a photograph out of her inside blazer pocket and handing it to Katy.

“Mum's ever so worried about him, doesn't even breathe when she sees the telegram boy walking down our street. Always thinks it'll be bad news.”

“Why's that?” asked Katy, without thinking.

Hillary gave her an odd look, “She thinks he'll have been shot down or is missing in action, of course.”

“Oh, right,” said Katy, feeling silly. “What about your dad, is he in the army?”

“No, Dad is too old; he's a baker in town. Mum works for him most mornings. She never usually does this but she slipped a little treat into my bag today. I think she felt bad for me after I described yesterday's lunch – unidentified meat with unidentified vegetables! She knows how bad the food is here. She came here herself in the dark ages.”

Reaching into her school bag she pulled out two jam tarts. “Here, take this.”

Katy polished it off in two greedy mouthfuls – far nicer than what was on offer for pudding!

Across the school wall, she could just about see into the boys' playground, where some of them were
playing football. She hoped Patrick was getting on OK. She wished she could talk to him but the teachers patrolled the dividing wall, determined to prevent any fraternizing with the opposite sex.

The rest of the afternoon passed slowly and Katy felt exhausted when Miss Dobson finally rang the hand bell on her desk and dismissed them for the day. Hurrying to the school gate with Hillary, she found Patrick, Charlie and the twins waiting for her. As the six of them walked home together, Katy found herself making a mental note of all the subtle changes she saw, determined to record them in her journal later. That way, if she ever did get back home, she could use it as research.

As they walked home, Katy noticed more differences that she didn't understand. “Where have all the street signs gone?” she asked.

The twins looked at her as if she were mad. “They took them all down. It's meant to confuse the enemy if they ever invade. Mind you, I don't know what the Nazis would want with sleepy old Knutsburry,” Charlie laughed.

“And why do I keep seeing kids going into the corner shop with empty bottles?” she asked.

More bewildered looks followed this question. “Don't you know anything?” said Frank. “Where have
you been living for the last couple of years? Mars? Glass is scarce now so if you want to buy a drink like Dandelion and Burdock you take in an empty bottle and they fill it up from the barrel.”

The High Street, too, was very different. All the chains Katy knew had disappeared and in their place were individual shops: a baker, a butcher, a fishmonger and something called an ironmonger, all in a row. There were also far fewer cafés and restaurants.

* * * *

That night, as she sat up in bed, Katy carefully made notes in her journal of everything she had seen. She even drew a map of the High Street as it was in 1942, labelling it carefully. Next, she wrote down all she had to eat that day. Pleased with her efforts, she shut the book and carefully placed it back into her satchel, switched off the light and lay down, listening to Patrick's rhythmic breathing as he slept.

Immediately, her thoughts turned to Hillary. In just one day she had grown fond of her – she was so friendly and funny. Katy hated knowing what an awful future awaited her and wished desperately she could warn her of what lay in store. But Patrick had
been adamant that she couldn't tell Hillary anything. Feeling frustrated, Katy pulled the covers up over her head and sighed wearily.

Fingers crossed, she made a wish, hoping with all her heart that she could somehow save Hillary from her awful fate and that one day soon she'd be back home in her own bedroom, showing her journal to Lizzie as a prized souvenir from a very strange adventure.

Chapter 6

Friend or Foe?

Sunday arrived and Katy realised with some surprise that they had completed a full week in 1942. After supper, Charlie called round and they all lounged on the floor in the parlour, listening to their favourite radio programme. Afterwards, Charlie got out a pack of cards and they played a game called ‘Chase the Ace'.

They were just beginning another game, when they became aware of the now familiar sound of enemy aircraft flying overhead. Katy and Patrick had quickly learnt to recognise the droning noise that the
bombers made as they passed over Knutsburry on their way to bomb the Liverpool docks.

“Come on, quick,” shouted the twins, leaping up and racing to the attic stairs to get a better view of the action. At first this ritual had scared Katy and Patrick. They were afraid a bomb would be dropped on Willow Dene by a passing plane. But Charlie had quickly reassured them, saying, “Nothing worth bombing in Knutsburry. Most exciting thing to happen here was when a German plane dropped loads of leaflets saying we should surrender – that an invasion was imminent.”

They watched from the attic window in excited silence as the sky above Liverpool blazed with light. Brilliant white flashes from anti–aircraft fire lit up the night sky like a Christmas tree, filling it with an eerie orange glow. Suddenly, the sound of the aircraft changed.

“What's that? Listen you lot. Shush,” called out Charlie urgently.

From their vantage point the children could see a plane; it seemed to be faltering, losing speed and height. It had clearly been left behind the rest of its squadron.

“It's coming down – look! I don't believe it,” shouted Frank in amazement. Charlie and Harry both cheered,
going wild with excitement. Patrick and Katy looked at each other, unsure of how to react.

“What's that? Can you see it?” shouted Charlie. “It's an airman! He's parachuted out!”

They watched in astonishment, as the man seemed to float gently down to earth, like a descending angel of doom. Next, they heard a distant thud, as the aircraft hit the ground in a nearby field. The children stood staring at one another in a stupefied silence.

Quickly, Charlie sprang into action. “They've come down in Mossop's field! If we take the shortcut through the woods we can get to them before anyone else arrives. I bet we'll find some cracking souvenirs to trade at school!”

“We could take the pilot prisoner and hand him to the police,” agreed Frank

“Let's do it,” cried Charlie and Harry in unison. “We'll be heroes!”

“But what about Mrs Graham,” said Katy nervously. The last thing she wanted to do was upset Mrs Graham after she'd been so kind to them. “Won't she worry if she finds we're all gone?”

“Don't worry about Mum – she's giving Susie a bath and putting her to bed. A routine that's taking longer and longer since you've arrived Katy! She doesn't like
going to bed while we're all still up – she thinks she's missing out on fun. Mum will be busy with her for ages – she won't even notice we're gone!”

They headed back down from the attic, stopping at the storeroom to collect a torch and some rope with which to tie up their prisoner.

“Come on, Katy!” moaned the boys impatiently, as they stood nervously outside the back door. Katy hurried over to them, shutting her satchel and flinging it over her shoulder.

“What are you bringing that for?” asked Patrick, puzzled.

“Wait and see,” Katy whispered mysteriously, patting her bag.

“Come on, we'll have to run for it or we'll miss our chance,” called Charlie.

The moon shone brightly, lighting their way and making their progress to Mossop's field quicker than expected. At the edge of the field they slowed down and then stopped dead, unsure of how to proceed. Their hearts pounded as if they were straining to get out of their chests.

“There it is, look at it! It's a beauty,” said Harry, as he shone the torch in the direction of the plane, now mostly shrouded in shadows. It was nose down and
had lost a wing in the crash. A warm orange glow could be seen coming from the cockpit, which must have caught fire on impact.

“Right, listen to me,” said Charlie, taking charge. “I'm the eldest so I'm responsible for you lot. You have to do what I say, OK?”

Everyone seemed to accept this and nodded to one another silently. The reality of what they were about to do suddenly hit them. They were happy to have Charlie take control. Things seemed a lot scarier than they had in the attic at Willow Dene.

“We need to be very quiet. The pilot might be armed and things could get nasty. Stay in my shadow until we know for sure.”

The mood of anticipation and excitement had been replaced with a growing feeling of nervous tension, which seemed to pulsate on the night air all around them. Katy's breathing became shallow and rapid as she clutched her bag tightly to her chest. She followed the others, cautiously making their way over to the plane.

Holding their breath they moved close enough to peer inside the burning cockpit.

“Quick, let's take a look around and see what we can find as a souvenir,” whispered Harry.

“Look at that – its blood!” gasped Patrick, pointing to a trail of thick, deep, crimson droplets smeared on the outside of the window and onto the pilot's seat.

“He's wounded – his parachute must be around here somewhere. He can't have gone far. Stick close together. Let's find him,” Charlie instructed.

Shining the torch onto the ground so they could pick out the trail of blood, Charlie led the way. It was easy. The pilot must have been bleeding quite heavily.

“Shush, listen. What's that?” asked Patrick.

A low moaning and whimpering sound carried gently on the night breeze. It reminded Katy of a trapped, injured animal and she winced at the thought.

“It must be the airman,” said Patrick. “It's coming from over there. Come on, follow me.”

Following the sound along the edge of the field, they arrived at an old broken-down cowshed and approached its entrance nervously.

Will he put up a fight? What if he has a gun?
Questions raced through Katy's head.

Cautiously, they shone a beam of light into the shed. Nothing could be seen except for a few bits of broken machinery and straw bales. Katy let out a loud
sigh of relief. “Well that's it then – he's got away. Let's get home before we're missed.”

“Hang on a minute, give me that torch,” said Patrick urgently. “Look, what's that in the far corner?”

Shining the torchlight in that direction they were able to make out the outline of a body, crouched down low with some sort of sacking thrown over it. As they watched, it jerked and a gentle low moan came from within.

Without thinking Katy rushed forward, flinging off the sacking to reveal the cowering figure of a young man. He looked up at Katy with such fear and pain in his eyes that she felt a sob escape from her own lips. Almost immediately, she was pushed out of the way by Charlie and the twins, who grabbed the airman and attempted to tie him up with their rope. He put up no resistance, gasping out in pain as they pushed and pulled him from side to side.

Something inside Katy snapped and she could bear it no longer. “Stop it, stop it now! You're hurting him – he's injured. He's no threat to us.”

The boys looked at her in disbelief. “Why do you care? He's a Nazi – he's the enemy. We never should have brought a silly girl with us,” snapped Harry angrily.

But Katy was powerless to stop herself. “He's only a boy himself. He can't be more than twenty. He's just doing his job. Just like Hillary's brother, Mark. If Mark's plane went down over Germany you'd hope whoever found him showed him some kindness, wouldn't you?”

Sensing their hesitation, she seized her chance, pushing them aside and crouching down low. “Where do you hurt?” she asked slowly and gently.

With difficulty he pulled open his jacket to reveal a badly injured arm. His uniform was soaked in blood and Katy flinched at the sight of it. Gritting her teeth, she reached into her satchel and pulled out Mrs Graham's first-aid kit. Taking some cotton wool, a small bottle of witch hazel and a long bandage she tenderly began to clean and dress the wound. Thank goodness she had joined the St John's Ambulance training at school with Hillary. At least now she had some idea of what to do.