Authors: Margaret Dickinson
Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas, #Historical, #Romance, #20th Century, #General
For a few hours they were able to put aside all thoughts of the war, of its impending restrictions and dangers and, by late evening when the visitors left, every one of them declared it to be the best Christmas they could remember.
Eight
Only a few days after Christmas Letty came bursting in through the back door, tears streaming down her face. ‘They’ve only gone and done it, the silly buggers. In’t it enough that I’ve got one lad in danger, without them going an’ all?’
Grace bent to put two cakes in the range oven and closed the door carefully. Straightening up, she said, with a sigh, ‘What’s them two rascals done this time?’
‘Eh?’ Letty blinked and then, as realization came to her, she shook her head. ‘Oh, no, t’ain’t the two young ’uns. Not this time. ’Tis Walter and Bertie.’
Grace stared at her for a moment and then guessing what had happened said kindly, ‘Sit down, Letty, and tell me all about it.’
‘They’ve only gone and volunteered, that’s what.’
‘Never? Well, they want their heads banging together, Letty. They’d no need to go yet. At least they could’ve waited until they were called up.’
‘I know,’ Letty wailed as fresh tears welled in her eyes. ‘And t’daft part about it is, Walter might not’ve had to go at all. His firm’s turning to some sort of war production, so they say. Likely he’d’ve been in a – what do they call it?’
‘Reserved occupation.’
‘That’s it.’ She paused a moment before adding flatly, ‘Bertie might have had to go anyway, but he needn’t have gone yet. He could’ve waited. I mean, it’s not like last time, is it? Folks aren’t going round handing out white feathers, are they? At least, not yet.’
‘What service have they joined? The navy, like their brother?’
“No. Walter’s going in the army and Bertie’s signed up to go into the RAF. He wants to be a fighter pilot.’
‘Oh, well now,’ Grace said, trying to lighten the woman’s misery. ‘If the Bradshaw boys have got all three services covered, the war’ll soon be over.’
But poor Letty was not in the mood for levity and Grace’s weak attempt at humour fell flat.
‘They came home at Christmas. We all had a lovely time.’
‘We heard,’ Grace murmured.
‘Oh dear, did we disturb you?’
‘Of course not. It was grand to hear you all having fun. Besides, we had visitors and were making quite a bit of noise ourselves.’ Grace would never have admitted it, but she had thoroughly enjoyed Christmas Day. She hesitated and then asked, ‘Was that when they told you?’
Letty shook her head. ‘No, it might have been better if they had, in a way. They let us all have a good Christmas and then dropped their bombshell. But it took all the pleasure out of it, you know.’
Grace nodded sympathetically. ‘I can understand that. But they meant well, Letty. They didn’t want to spoil the festivities. I’d say that was thoughtful of them.’
Letty sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right, but it was just – sort of – going from one extreme to the other.’
They talked for a while, Grace trying to instil in the distressed woman some pride in her sons’ actions. After Letty had left, Grace sat in her chair deep in thought. In the Great War, she had thought that volunteers were fools and she hadn’t hesitated to say so. She’d believed that though everyone should do their duty for their country, they should at least wait until they were called up. But now she wondered if she’d been wrong. No one nowadays could be ignorant or naive about what might happen. The newspapers and wireless left no doubt as to the dangers ahead. This war was going to be so much closer to home. Their country was under threat. It was not going to be fought in some far-off land. Not this time.
And for the first time in her life, Grace couldn’t help feeling a sneaking admiration for these brave young men, who were prepared to defend their freedom from a tyrannical oppressor.
‘As if we haven’t got enough to contend with,’ Grace grumbled. ‘What with all the rationing and now this. We won’t even be able to get to the shops, ne’er mind queuing.’
Rationing of certain foodstuffs – butter, sugar and bacon – had started at the beginning of January and now, towards the end of the month, the weather had worsened and storms swept across the country. Four feet of snow fell and the city’s transport system was badly affected.
‘Do we even have to go into work?’ Rose asked.
Peggy shrugged. ‘I expect we’ll have to report for duty – if we can get there, that is.’
Rose pulled a face. ‘I don’t fancy getting wet wading through piles of snow, just to be told the trams aren’t running.’
As they all finished eating their evening meal, Mary stood up. ‘Right, Peggy, it’s you and me on washing-up duties.’
‘It’s Myrtle’s turn by rights,’ Grace put in.
‘She’s got her homework to finish off for tomorrow morning,’ Mary said.
Myrtle hid her smile and picked up her satchel from the floor as Rose began to clear a space for her. ‘It’ll be icy in our bedroom. We can’t afford the coal to light a fire up there. You’d better do it down here tonight.’
‘Does she have to?’ Grace asked. ‘I want to listen to the wireless tonight. You know I like to hear the news, especially on a Sunday when we don’t have a newspaper.’ The square wireless had been moved to stand on a small table beside Grace’s fireside chair. It was she who operated it and determined what the family listened to.
‘It won’t bother me, Gran,’ Myrtle said. ‘Besides, I like to hear the news too. Our headmistress says we should take an active interest in everything that’s happening.’
‘By the way, Gran,’ Peggy asked, ‘did you find out if we’ve got to have a Morrison or an Anderson shelter?’
Grace shook her head. ‘Neither. A man came yesterday and inspected the cellar. He says it’ll be quite adequate—’
‘Unless,’ Myrtle murmured, ‘we get a direct hit.’
Grace glared at her. ‘I hadn’t finished. If we get a direct hit, my girl, no Anderson shelter is going to save us. But we might just have a chance in the cellar if, the man said, we have it reinforced. And,’ she added, with a grimace, ‘we’ve to have a doorway knocked through from ours into the neighbour’s cellar so that if either of us did get a direct hit, there’d be a way out. I’ve already been in touch with a builder. He’s sending two men tomorrow. He reckons it won’t take long. A couple of days at the most. So, I expect I’ll have to put up with Letty Bradshaw joining us, as well as Hitler’s bombs, because if there’s an open door there’ll be no stopping her.’
‘Now, now, Mother, Letty’s not so bad. And don’t forget, her lads have cleared the snow for us.’
Grace sniffed. ‘A right pair of tykes, they are.’
When the snow had begun, Sidney and Jimmy had appeared at the back door and asked if they could clear the steps and the short pathway leading to the road and the stretch of pavement in front of Mrs Booth’s house.
‘We’ve done our mam’s,’ Sidney told her. ‘Tha can ’ave a look. We’ll keep it clear for thee if tha wants.’
‘And how much is that going to cost me?’
‘Sixpence a time, missis,’ Sidney said promptly.
‘Thruppence,’ Grace bargained. The two boys glanced at each other and Sidney sighed. ‘Seein’ as you’re our neighbour, all right then. But don’t you tell t’others in street. It’ll be sixpence to them.’
So Grace kept a pile of threepenny bits on the mantelpiece to hand to the boys every time they cleared the paths.
‘Saves us the job,’ she murmured as she stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest, watching the boys work. ‘And it keeps that pair of scallywags out of trouble for an hour or two.’
In fact, it kept the Bradshaw boys out of trouble for several days as they cleared several of their neighbours’ pathways.
‘Not so bad?’ Grace repeated now, responding indignantly to her daughter. ‘I feel sorry for her that her eldest lads have got caught up in the fighting – I’ll not deny that – but it still doesn’t stop her being the biggest gossip in Sheffield. You lot – ’ she nodded towards her family – ‘just be careful what you’re saying in front of her, that’s all. And I expect she’ll have those little ruffians with her.’
Ignoring her mother’s grumbling, Mary said, ‘We ought to get an air-raid pack put together and leave it near the cellar door. We’ve had leaflets about it.’
‘Have we had leaflets?’ Grace said sarcastically. ‘They talk about not wasting paper, but all these information leaflets are the biggest waste of paper I know.’
‘How else would folks get advice, Mother?’
‘The wireless.’ Grace was rarely short of an answer.
‘They use that an’ all,’ Rose said, ‘but people don’t remember it like they do when they’ve got it in print.’
‘Then they could write it down.’
‘And what would they write it on, Gran?’ Myrtle said cheekily and was rewarded with one of Grace’s steely glares. ‘You get on with your homework, miss.’
But as the older woman opened Saturday’s newspaper yet again, Myrtle saw Grace’s mouth twitch as she tried to prevent a smile. ‘Actually,’ Grace said, coming back to the original topic of conversation, ‘we ought to do a lot more than just have a pack ready. We need to get the cellar prepared properly.’
‘What do you mean, Mother?’
‘We might be down there for several hours at a time. We’ll need to sort out bedding and warm clothing. Food in tins or jars and drinking water, which we’ll have to change regularly. Thermos flasks we can leave at the ready in the kitchen and fill them up when the sirens start.’
‘My word! You have been giving it some thought.’
‘Torches and batteries,’ Grace went on. ‘I’d like to take a wireless set, but I’ve only the one, so I’ll have to do without that. And I suppose,’ she added reluctantly, ‘we’ll have to sort out some sort of toilet arrangement.’
‘Oh no!’ Myrtle was adamant. ‘If you think I’m going to the lav with those two little tykes from next door listening, you can think again. I’d sooner dash across the yard – bombs or no bombs.’
Grace and Mary smiled. ‘Well, I can’t help agreeing with you, Myrtle, but we’ll have to see.’
‘I’ll make a list,’ Mary said, ‘and we can start collecting all the things we’ll need.’
‘And don’t forget some books and games to keep those little rascals from next door quiet. And my newspapers. Don’t forget to take my newspapers.’
‘How are we going to read in the dark?’
‘There’s an electric light down there, but if that fails, we’ll use candles. It’s surprising what light candles give off, if you can get enough of them.’
‘You’ve got an answer for everything, Gran,’ Myrtle murmured in admiration.
A little while later a knock sounded at the front door.
‘Oh Gawd,’ Grace muttered morosely. ‘That’ll be him again. Has he been daft enough to trudge through all this snow? Never gives up, does he, even though it’s obvious she’s not interested in him. I hope he doesn’t stay long. I want the news at nine.’ Mary and Peggy were still washing up in the kitchen. Grace sighed. ‘You’d better let him in, Myrtle.’
The girl glanced up sullenly. ‘Why do I always have to be the one—?’
‘I’ll go.’ Rose turned from where she’d been folding the tablecloth and putting it away in the sideboard drawer. She paused for a moment and stared at her grandmother. ‘What – what d’you mean, Gran, Peggy’s not interested in him?’
‘She’s not exactly acting like someone head over heels in love, is she? She must have heard the knock and yet she’s not coming rushing through to answer it, even though she must know it’s him.’ Grace sniffed. ‘Like we all do.’ Then a wistful smile played briefly on the old woman’s mouth. ‘Even I can remember what it was like when I fell in love with your grandad. Besotted, I was. Almost made myself ill with the excitement of it all. But then, he was a very handsome man – tall and dark-haired and—’
‘Oh, Gran, Bob’s good-looking, he . . .’ Rose began and then stopped, appalled that she might have given herself away by extolling Bob’s virtues. Instead, she muttered, ‘I’ll go, seeing as no one else seems to want to.’
As she went into the narrow hallway, her mind was in a whirl. She had never thought for one moment that Peggy might not be in love with Bob. Rose couldn’t imagine anyone not being, but maybe . . .
‘Hang on a minute while I put the light out.’ She opened the door and smiled a welcome, forcing a light, teasing note into her tone. ‘Now fancy seeing you. Whatever brings you here, Mr Deeton? As if we didn’t know.’
Bob grinned shyly as he stepped across the threshold. ‘Is she home?’
‘She’s in the back just finishing the washing up. I bet you could do with a cuppa.’
‘Ooo, I could. Ta, Rose.’ He stamped the snow from his boots. ‘I reckon it’s getting colder.’
Rose closed the door and switched the light back on. ‘Let me take your coat.’ She shook the snow from it and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall. ‘Gran’s paper said that the other night was the coldest for years. Parts of the Thames were frozen over. Can you believe that?’
As Bob handed her his trilby, Rose added, ‘My, we are smart tonight. Were you hoping to take her out?’
‘I was, but the weather’s too bad. I don’t want to drag her out in this. Maybe later in the week, when the snow’s cleared a bit.’
‘Come through.’ Rose opened the door into the living room and ushered him in. ‘Sit by the fire and get warm.’
Bob nodded to Grace and Myrtle. ‘Evenin’, Mrs Booth. Hello, Myrtle. Busy with your homework?’
Myrtle glowered and lowered her head. She was now in the fifth form and determined to do well in her School Certificate exams, which were scheduled to take place in June.
‘Myrtle, say hello to Bob,’ Rose prompted.
Without looking up the girl muttered, ‘Hello to Bob.’
‘Ee, she can be right mardy sometimes. You keep a civil tongue in your head, young Myrtle,’ Rose admonished her younger sister, but she was smiling as she said it. Indeed, she was keeping a smile firmly fixed on her face. ‘I’ll just get our Peggy. I’ll take over with the drying if they’ve not finished.’
As she moved towards the door into the small back kitchen, Mary appeared, ‘All done. Oh hello, Bob. Peggy, love,’ she called over her shoulder, ‘Bob’s here.’ There was a pause, but Peggy did not appear. ‘She’s just putting the pots away. She’ll be here in a minute,’ Mary explained.