The TV Time Travellers (11 page)

‘You must have missed him,’ I said.

‘I should say I did,’ replied Victor. ‘We wrote letters for a bit, but then we lost touch.’

‘That’s a shame,’ I said.

‘You’ve got to remember, it was much harder to keep in contact way back then. No emails or even phones for most of us. I’ve never forgotten him, though. In fact, he’s the only reason I’m here tonight. I’d give anything to clap eyes on him again.’

‘Well, he has certainly been invited,’ I said.

Victor beamed hopefully at me. And suddenly we were both so excited, and the war seemed incredibly close to me. I mean, it was there in the history books, impossibly far away. Yet it was here right in this room too. That was such a strange feeling.

‘I’ve so many questions . . .’ I began.

Suddenly a harsh, angry voice cut through our conversation. ‘Zac, what on earth are you doing?’ It was Mr Wallack, his voice positively shaking with fury. ‘How dare you ask one of our guests to hold the tray for you.’

I’d been so intent on what Victor was saying, I’d completely forgotten he was still holding the tray of sandwiches. I’d
just
stopped seeing it – and I think Victor had too.

‘I’m very sorry,’ I began, stepping forward to take the tray.

But then, to my total amazement, Victor yanked the tray away from me and thrust it at Mr Wallack. ‘How about if you make yourself useful and hand round some sandwiches for five minutes, while I carry on talking to this young man here? We were having a very interesting conversation actually, which unfortunately you’ve just interrupted.’

Mr Wallack’s face actually spun with shock. I don’t think anyone had ever spoken to him like that before in his life. But he didn’t say another word. Instead, he walked away, still holding the tray very gingerly, as if expecting it to explode at any second.

I watched all this open-mouthed. But Leo rushed over. ‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said to Victor, ‘but may I shake you by the hand as you’ve just made me very happy.’

Victor, grinning a little, shook hands with Leo. ‘Well, when I was a lad,’ he said, ‘I got so weary of being ordered
about
by teachers – and we had some right tartars too. I had to put up with it then – but not now.’

‘Good for you,’ grinned Leo.

Then I told Leo who Victor was, though Leo said he’d sort of guessed already. And Farmer Benson also came over. He said he was absolutely delighted to meet Victor. But when we asked about Dennis, Farmer Benson’s face darkened, and he said, ‘Let us all sit down over here,’ including me in the invitation – and pointed to some chairs by the long table of food.

The room was filling up now, but we were the only ones sitting down. And I had a feeling from Farmer Benson’s face that it wasn’t good news about Dennis.

And it wasn’t.

His wife had rung up to say that Dennis had died in 2003.

Victor sat very still for a few moments. ‘I should have tried to get in touch with him before – meant to, so many times.’ He blew his nose and then apologized for being ‘very silly’.

Farmer Benson said gently, ‘Dennis’s
wife
told me that he had often spoken of you, and very warmly. She’d love to speak to you, so if you’d care to give her a call . . .? I have her number here.’

‘Yes, I would,’ said Victor. ‘Thank you.’ And then he added sadly, ‘Well, he’ll just have to go on living in my memory.’

For the rest of the time I didn’t hand round another sandwich. I spent all the time talking to Victor. It was a bit naughty of me really. But neither Mr Wallack nor Miss Weed came near us. Victor was just brimming with stories. And he was amazed by my knowledge of the Second World War.

Leo, overhearing all this as he whirled past, said, ‘Oh, Zac here would like to bypass the present and live in the war years, wouldn’t you?’

‘I certainly would,’ I said.

‘In fact, if there was a train taking people to 1939, Zac would be the first one aboard – and he’d never want to come back,’ said Leo.

As Leo went off again Victor said, ‘But surely you’d want to return to your family.’

‘Actually, I wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘I’d much rather live here, in the war.’

‘Sounds to me as if you’re trying to escape from something,’ said Victor.

‘Oh, no,’ I said. ‘It’s just I don’t like my current life very much, so I’ve gone off and discovered a much better one here instead. So I’m a new evacuee, although not experiencing any of the awful hardships you had, of course.’

‘Actually,’ said Victor, ‘I’d say every age has its own special hardships for children. Today you all seem to take so many exams, which feels like a terrible burden to me. And why have children got to be assessed and graded every second of their lives anyway? Weighing a pig frequently doesn’t make it any fatter.’

‘Victor for Prime Minister,’ grinned Leo, who’d overheard the last bit. ‘I’d vote for you.’

‘And so would I,’ I cried.

As Victor was leaving, Farmer Benson rushed up and invited him round for tea on Wednesday.

‘Say yes,’ I urged.

Victor grinned and said, ‘Well, why
not
?’ Then he said how this had been a very sad day hearing about his old friend, but a happy one too, as he’d made a new friend.

And so had I.

The original evacuees were streaming out when one sneaked over to Leo and me. She said softly, ‘Are there cameras round here?’

‘Yeah, probably,’ began Leo.

‘Oh well, I’ll risk it,’ she said, her teeth jumping out of bright red lips every time she spoke, ‘as I’m not supposed to do this.’ She moved even closer to us. ‘But I’ve been watching you on the telly every night and wanted to warn you both, and especially you,’ she said, nodding at Leo.

‘Warn me about what?’ asked Leo, looking positively startled now.

‘Be very very careful when—’ But before she could say another word Miss Weed appeared. She was smiling, but the smile never reached her eyes.

‘Now come on, what’s this? You know it’s forbidden to talk to our evacuees about the show, don’t you?’ She gave an exaggerated laugh and went on, ‘That
was
made quite clear to you in our instruction sheet before you were allowed admittance. And you wouldn’t want to get Leo disqualified, would you?’

‘No, of course not,’ said the poor woman, her face nearly as red as her lipstick now.

‘Now, let me help you out,’ said Miss Weed. I looked up to see Mr Wallack hovering close by too, and both of them practically frogmarched the woman out of the hall.

‘What was she trying to warn us about?’ demanded Leo. ‘It could be anything; maybe she was going to warn us not to talk to Harriet.’

‘I don’t think so,’ I said at once.

‘Well, we’ll never know as Wally has probably had that poor woman vaporized by now.’

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The Sirens Wail

Izzy

YOU WON’T BELIEVE
this
.

I didn’t at first
.

But I really enjoyed meeting those ancient evacuees. And I’d been dreading having to listen to them ramble on
.

Yet it wasn’t like that at all. I suppose I knew a bit about what they were talking about. So when they moaned on, for instance, about how awful Spam tasted, I could join in
.

They were dead funny too. This one old lady, Nora, even told me of the time she bit a teacher. She goes: ‘Well, the teacher kept on saying I had nits and I wasn’t
having
that. So when she came near me I bit her.’

But Nora got two strokes of the cane for doing that; right on her hands too. Just about everyone I’d spoken to had been caned for something
.

You know something else? I’d say meeting Nora and all the others was the highlight of
Strictly Evacuees
for me. That, and getting to know Leo, Zac, Barney and Solly. (And yes, you’ve noticed who I missed out.)

Actually, nothing was ever as good on the show after that afternoon. In fact, things started to go downhill pretty rapidly, although we had a wild time that evening
.

Farmer Benson and his wife wanted to show us a typical family night in during the war. So we all piled into the sitting room and spent the evening playing board games for the undead, and then singing old wartime songs – with Mrs Benson pounding away on the piano. Scarily, I actually enjoyed all that too (not that I’d want to do it too often, though)
.

But I really felt like a time traveller
that
night. In fact, I’d got so into the wartime spirit that even when I was asleep I could hear an air-raid siren: a horrible, wailing noise it was. ‘Switch it down,’ I muttered. Then I opened my eyes to see Miss Weed’s nostrils flaring down at me
.

‘Grab a blanket, some shoes and your mike, and move, move, move!’ she cried
.

I shook my head. Was I still dreaming? And was I really in the war or not? I was so disorientated that I wasn’t completely sure for a few seconds
.

‘Come on, Isobel,’ urged Miss Weed. ‘Can’t you hear the air-raid siren? Now, move.’

Then I heard Harriet say, ‘Don’t worry, Miss Weed, I’ll look after her,’ in such a smug, aren’t-I-wonderful voice that I woke up then all right. In fact, I jumped out of bed searching frantically for my shoes, while that siren seemed to be getting even louder
.

‘My shoes have walked off somewhere,’ I muttered. ‘You haven’t seen them, have you?’

‘They’ll be just where you left them,’
said
Harriet, patting her hair in the mirror
.

‘Thank you for those very wise words,’ I muttered
.

Finally I found them (and they had magically moved themselves) and tumbled downstairs after Harriet
.

Everyone else was already there, except for Farmer Benson and Zac, who were checking all the animals were safe. Then Miss Weed screeched, ‘Isobel, where’s your gas mask?’

‘Oh, will I need it?’ I asked
.

‘Yes!’ Miss Weed screamed
.

So I sped upstairs, grabbed the gas mask – which was practically falling to pieces now – and tore back down again
.

Farmer Benson and Zac had now appeared. ‘Sorry to get you out of bed like this,’ said Farmer Benson. ‘Been a bit of a shock to me too,’ he added, half under his breath, ‘but there’s a little aerial disturbance coming up, apparently. So it’s best if we all take shelter in the safest place of the house – down in the cellar.’

‘And very quickly please,’ added Miss Weed. She seemed really worked up. And
although
it sounds mad, part of me was oddly scared too
.

I said to Farmer Benson, ‘But this isn’t right – we moved to the country to escape the bombing.’

‘Ah, but there were stray attacks outside the cities as well,’ he said. ‘Well, we had one here. I remember my grandad telling me about a large land mine that came down one night in a field. Very luckily it got caught in a tree, because if it had hit the ground and exploded . . .’

Farmer Benson shook his head. And then Mrs Benson told us how her grandmother woke up one night in the war to find a wall of her bedroom had just disappeared, thanks to a bombing raid
.

‘I’d be furious about that,’ said Leo, ‘as I hate anyone coming into my bedroom.’ I tried to laugh, but I just felt so muddled too and half still in a dream. Perhaps that’s why I was actually scared as well
.

We were led into this cellar, which was very cold and very dark and very small. And then we heard the whistle and scream of a bomb falling. It was so loud I
actually
ducked, making Leo and Barney fall about laughing
.

‘That was close,’ murmured Miss Weed
.

But then came the whistle of another bomb, which sounded even louder and felt as if it made the whole house shake. I whispered to Leo, ‘They’re not really going to blow us up, are they?’

‘If it improves the ratings, they will,’ he replied. ‘But no, it’s not
really
real; it’s just to wind us up. There’s a little camera hidden up there.’

And I knew that. The sound effects were so impressive, though. Zac had his eyes tightly closed. ‘Hey, are you all right?’ I asked
.

‘Oh, yes,’ he murmured, and still with his eyes closed he went on, ‘This is one part of the war I really wouldn’t have liked. Did you know that in London during the Blitz they had fifty-seven continuous nights of bombing?’

Fifty-seven nights of horror and death screeching down on them. How did they stand it?

Outside, our bombing went on and on. Once the whole house seemed to be picked
up
and shaken. Solly was cowering underneath Barney’s pyjama top
.

‘Are you scared too?’ Solly asked me in a hoarse whisper
.

‘A bit,’ I replied
. ‘
Even though I do know it’s not real.’

Solly tilted his head to one side
. ‘
How much longer will this bombing last?’

‘We don’t know,’ said Barney
.

‘I wasn’t asking you,’ said Solly. ‘I’m asking my friend here.’ And he gently snuggled his chin under my arm. I started to stroke him, just as if he was a nervous dog. ‘How about if we sing some more songs,?’ said Solly. ‘That might take our mind off the bombing.’