Tin Hats and Gas Masks (9 page)

He took a deep breath, grinned at her glowing face, and pulled hard on the oars. Annie gripped one side with her good hand, saw another boat heading for them and stood up, shouting, ‘Johnny get out of the way quick.’ Then she toppled over into the water.

Johnny jumped in, caught her round the waist and swam with her towards the bank. He was a powerful swimmer and when he reached the bank there was a crowd gathered there to help them both from the water.

‘Well done, boy.’

‘You both all right.’

‘Better get the girl to hospital and let them check that arm, I reckon.’

He heard the comments going on around them, then he saw Mrs Dover. Attracted by the crowd she had walked up to see what was going on.

‘Johnny, Anita,’ she gasped, ‘whatever …’

‘These two belong to you, missus?’

The man who was even now helping them to their feet looked like a farmer. ‘You be a strong swimmer, boy,’ he said to Johnny.

‘They are my evacuees,’ Ethel Dover said.

‘Well, best get ’em home and dry ’em out fast. And get the plaster seen to,’ he added. ‘They’ll be none the worse for their soaking, I reckon.’

Mrs Dover saw the boatman first. ‘Fancy letting two children go on the river like that,’ she said as he approached. ‘They could both have drowned. As long as
you got your money you didn’t bother, I suppose – no sense of responsibility.’

The old man was red in the face as he turned on her. ‘Watch your tongue, woman. They stole the boat and if anything had happened no blame could be laid at my door. Unruly children, they ought to be back home where they belong, not causing havoc in our countryside.’

‘Stole the boat?’

‘Ay, stole it. I did tell ’em they couldn’t have it, I did, and next thing the darng boat be gorn and these two here tipping her upside down.’

‘We did not tip her upside down,’ Johnny said through his shivers. ‘We fell out, but we didn’t harm the boat.’

‘Didn’t harm it! When the other boat practically sliced it in two! Look at the damage. Look at it, I say. Young hooligans, and thieves into the bargain.’

‘Better get these children home,’ someone said. ‘Why don’t you leave your name and address with the boatman and sort it all out later. The little girl’s arm should have attention.’

One of the women in the crowd said she would be happy for them to come to her house and get dry before returning home on the bus, and so the day out finished. They ate their sandwiches, not by the river as planned, but in someone’s house in Bushton, wrapped in dressing-gowns that were too big for them, while their clothes flapped about on the washing-line.

It was a grim, silent journey on the bus back to Winchurch, then a trip to the doctor’s to check whether Annie would need to return to hospital to have a fresh
plaster. It felt soggy and uncomfortable but she knew she would have to put up with that and she didn’t expect sympathy.

Johnny was summoned to Mr Dover’s study before dinner that evening and when he came out he whispered to Annie, ‘Come upstairs as soon as you can.’ Then he went to his bedroom. Within five minutes Annie joined him there.

‘What happened,’ she asked. ‘What did he say to you?’

‘That I’d have to leave. Along lecture about his own children and how they never behaved like this and he wasn’t going to stand it from someone else’s when he hadn’t had it from his own, blah, blah, blah …’

‘Leave? Oh no, Johnny. But it isn’t fair. It was as much my fault as yours. I’ll go and tell him so.’

‘No good, Annie. I stole the boat and that’s what’s got their goat. I don’t mind anyway. I’ve been wanting to go home for ages. Except for leaving you here it’s OK by me.’

‘Nevertheless I
shall
tell them. I
did
tell them but they wouldn’t listen. Well, if you have to go I shall too. Then they’ll have no evacuee money at all.’

‘I don’t think it’s much, Annie. And I don’t think it would bother them all that much either. They’re not poor people, are they?’

Annie didn’t answer, and Johnny saw the tears in her eyes. ‘Don’t start piping yer eye,’ he said roughly. ‘That’s not going to help. And when I’m gone you’ll probably forget all about me anyway.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I won’t. I’ll never forget you, Johnny. It’s funny really, because if it hadn’t been for the
war I don’t suppose we would have met, would we? I mean I’d have been away at boarding-school and I never came to the places you visited and you never came to mine.’

‘I’ll miss you,’ he said. ‘You’re not like most girls – you’re a good ‘un. But it’s not the end of everything, Annie. I’ll come and visit, they can’t stop me doing that, and we’ll have a boat out again and go to the pictures and go walking. And when the war’s over and you’re back in London …’

Mrs Dover called up the stairs that dinner was ready. Annie grinned and wiped the tears away. ‘You’ll forget all about me, I know you will.’

As they reached the top of the stairs he caught hold of her waist. ‘I won’t, you know. I promise.’

Annie did tell the Dovers that it was as much her fault as Johnny’s. ‘I egged him on to get the boat,’ she lied. ‘He wouldn’t have taken it on his own, and if that silly old man had let us hire it we wouldn’t have taken it at all.’

‘That’s as may be,’ Mrs Dover told her smugly. ‘The fact is that Johnny actually took the rowing-boat after he had been told he mustn’t have one. He risked both your lives—’

‘He saved mine,’ she interrupted angrily.

‘That’s enough, miss. Neither of you should have been on the water in the first place. If you egged him on as you say then you should be ashamed of yourself. And you must be very weak to listen to her,’ she said turning to Johnny. ‘Anyway our minds are made up. High spirits are one thing – stealing is another. Johnny goes
home.’

‘Good. You never have wanted me here,’ Johnny muttered. ‘I’m glad to be going.’

Mrs Bookman had a day off from the factory to come down and sort things out.

‘Stealing. Showing us up like that. We may not be as well off as some but you know right from wrong. How
could
you do it, Johnny?’

‘Give over, Mum, I didn’t pinch his boat. I borrered it for ’alf an hour, that’s all.’

‘It was stealing, and you could both have drowned …’

‘’Cos we wouldn’t have,’ he interrupted. ‘We can both swim.’

‘Annie couldn’t, with her arm in plaster.’

‘I can life-save, can’t I? I got a certificate from the baths years ago.’

‘Fat lot of good that’d have done. You were lucky, that’s all, so don’t you let all that praise about saving Annie go to your head, because it was a damn fool thing to do to take
the boat like that. The pair of you could have bin sliced in half.’

The train steamed on towards London. Johnny thought how different this was to the way he had dreamed of returning home.

‘Another thing,’ his mother said, ‘I shall have to pay for the repairs to that boat you damaged and you can pay me back each week. You can do a newsround or something.’

‘How much will it be?’

‘I don’t know. You heard what he said, that he’d get an estimate. You should have thought about all that before you stole the thing.’

‘You keep going on about stealing the bloo— the boat, but I told you we were going to put it back. We
borrered
it.’

The set of Mrs Bookman’s mouth as she said, ‘You stole it Johnny, don’t split hairs with me,’ decided him to keep his thoughts to himself for the rest of the journey.

There was a bonus when they reached home, one he hadn’t thought of, for with his brothers both in the army, this time he really did have the bedroom to himself. In any case, he thought, Jim wouldn’t be coming back here to live now he was married to Doris, so he’d only be sharing with Ron eventually.

It was strange that he now wanted a bedroom to himself. He recalled the first few nights at the Dovers in what had seemed such a huge room. I ’spect you can get used to things, he thought as he unpacked his case.

‘Mum, can I have a box to put Jim and Ron’s stuff in?’ he called down the stairs.

His mother came up, looking very angry. ‘No you
cannot,’ she said. ‘Jim and Ron are both coming back, please God, and their treasures will be waiting for them.’

‘But Mum, I can use the space until they do. And Jim’ll have his own place, won’t he, now he’s married?’

‘I said no and I don’t want to hear any more about it. Your things are still there waiting for you and theirs will be too. Leave them alone.’

The three boys had a shelf each for their personal belongings. Jim’s was the top one as he was the eldest, and originally the tallest; then came Ron’s, although from the age of thirteen he had shot up in height and now was bigger than his brother. Johnny’s was the lowest one, and was filled with model cars and books. He looked at the books now, after over two years away. They were mostly adventure stories and books about trains and racing-cars. He knew well enough not to try to argue with his mum when she was in such a stubborn mood, and with a great sigh he set about reorganizing what space he had.

‘Johnny, hurry up now, I’ve some bread and dripping here, then we’ll go round the school and get you fixed up to start tomorrow.’

Not even a day’s holiday from school, he grumbled to himself later that evening when his mum was ironing furiously, and looking very tight-lipped. She put the iron back on to the gas flame for a few seconds, then tested it by holding it up to her face, a practice that had always frightened Johnny. With a shock he realized it still did, and then he understood a little more about his mother’s anxiety over what could have happened to him and Annie if they had got into difficulties in the river.

But we didn’t, and it’s all a lot of fuss over nothing, he thought. If Annie hadn’t panicked and stood up suddenly when she saw the other boat coming towards us, then she wouldn’t have gone overboard. We
would
have missed the other boat, because I saw it too. He admitted to himself that it was a close thing but they wouldn’t have collided. I would have avoided that, I know I would. He didn’t hold it against Annie for suddenly standing up. After all, she was more used to horses than boats, he thought, and he would probably do something just as daft and dangerous on a horse.

The return to his old school was an anticlimax. Everyone thought he had simply stopped being evacuated; a lot of the children had returned within months anyway. He no longer belonged to any of the old ‘gangs’, everything had changed, even the teachers. The only one left whom he knew was the old man they used to call Chubby-Chops because of his resemblance to someone on the films whose cheeks wobbled when he talked and smiled.

His class-teacher was a young woman – well that was OK by him. His previous teacher, Miss Carter, was a young woman and he’d got on all right with her. But this one was different. He sensed her dislike of him straight away, and knew he’d be for it if he didn’t watch his step. She had harsh fair hair, hard eyes that stared at you, and she was so skinny.

She picked on him within ten minutes of his arrival because, she said, he wasn’t paying attention. Shortly afterwards she moved him to a desk in the front row, ‘so I can keep my eyes on you.’ By mid-morning he hated her.

He walked home by himself, feeling very miserable. Everything was dowdy – he hadn’t remembered the dustiness of the streets, and he hadn’t allowed for his old mates who had returned a year and more ago to have formed other friendships. Why, he felt even more of an outsider than he had when he first went to Winchurch. Still, he consoled himself, there were the summer holidays to look forward to in a few weeks, though he didn’t know what he’d do if he had no friends to go around with and his mum was out at the factory all day.

Then there was the money he’d have to repay. He saw the prospect of getting the bike he had wanted for so long fast disappearing.

‘Poo, bloody poo,’ he said loudly, scuffing the toes of his shoes along the kerb.

Annie too felt strange without Johnny around. Mrs Dover fussed her more than usual. ‘Is your arm all right? How does it feel, Anita?’ Later she said, ‘Such a pity you went to London and got injured. Goodness, you could have been killed, my dear, all for the sake of going to the theatre.’

‘It was fun. I enjoyed myself,’ the girl replied quickly.

‘Surely not. It was that young Johnny who persuaded you. I know. He’s a charming little rascal when he sets out to be.’ She picked up her knitting and smiled across at Annie.

‘He didn’t have to persuade me, I wanted to go. See a bit of excitement. Oh, the raid was scaring,’ Annie said honestly, ‘but it wasn’t bad really when you read what happens there some nights. We were lucky, and I don’t one
bit regret going. In fact,’ she rushed on, her face flushed now, ‘I wouldn’t mind going back to London to live, as Johnny has done.’

Mrs Dover pursed her lips tightly together, making all the little wrinkly lines show. ‘You ought to be thanking God you are safely here in the country with us, young lady. Bad enough for those who have to be in the thick of it all, but no sense at all in courting danger when there is no need.’

Annie escaped to bed earlier than usual, feigning a great tiredness. Once there she pulled the covers almost over her face and gave herself up to thinking about the last two and a half years. Johnny Bookman had fascinated her from the moment he arrived. His thin, almost haggard-looking face that could suddenly light up with merriment. His speech – she had only heard people speak as Johnny did on the films before, and that not often. Most of all, except when he did it for effect, she loved to hear him say ‘Poo, bloody poo’ in that throwaway voice. When he did it naturally it never ceased to fill her whole being with laughter. She could feel it bubbling from her toes right through to her head, a delicious, wonderful joy.

She was surprised to find she was crying. ‘Stop blub-bing,’ Johnny would say, ‘that don’t do no good.’ She practised saying it to herself in Johnny’s voice and using his grammar, but she only cried more.

Pushing her head well into the pillow for fear of letting the Dovers hear her, she remembered that first night when she had been so lonely until she realized that for Johnny it was worse. Johnny who had never been away from home
before, Johnny who was so completely out of his environment that he even called Mrs Dover ‘miss’.

‘Johnny, Johnny, I wish you hadn’t had to go,’ she whispered into the pillow. ‘It’s going to be horrible here without you.’

The following day at school Janet asked Annie to her house to play on Saturday. ‘We can mess about in the pool, and take Badger out for a gallop. Will you come?’

The two girls became closer friends after Johnny left and although she wasn’t allowed to swim while her arm was in plaster, she could and did go horse-riding. Just a gentle jog through the countryside on a quiet, elderly animal, not a wonderful gallop while her arm was still inactive, but she enjoyed it so.

Sometimes she wondered how Johnny was making out. She wrote to him twice, but had no answers to her letters. Perhaps, after all, Johnny was like everyone else and let you down in the end. Now he was back in his beloved London he had probably forgotten all the good things about Winchurch and Kerry Avenue and the girl he’d bought a ruby ring for.

Annie wore the ring on a slender silver chain around her neck. Never outside her dress or blouse, but always next to her skin. She had taken a small silver cross from the chain so that she could do this and sometimes when she was in her bedroom at night she would slip the ring on to her finger and remember that day in Bushton when Johnny had bought it for her.

Annie had spoken the truth when she told Johnny’s mum that her parents were away the weekend she was in
London. It was three and a half weeks later that they caught up with the news. Mrs Dover said privately to her husband, ‘I wonder if Anita is really their child, William. They don’t bother very much about her, do they? Not underneath the show, I mean. I can’t see young Johnny’s mum not being in touch for so long, can you?’

‘Johnny is no longer our responsibility, Ethel. What he and his parents do or don’t do is not our concern now.’ As he turned in the bed to give her a perfunctory goodnight kiss, he added in a softer tone, ‘I think you’re right, though. Go to sleep now, it’s late.’

Annie came in from school one day near the end of term as the telephone in the hallway was ringing. Calling out to Mrs Dover, she walked through to the kitchen. There was no one there, but glancing through the window she saw her picking raspberries at the bottom of the garden. She went back to answer the phone herself, something she had never done before.

‘Hullo,’ a distant voice said, ‘is Miss Anita Evesham there? Please,’ it added as an obvious afterthought.

‘Johnny,’ Annie clasped the phone closer, ‘Johnny, where are you?’

‘Annie. Gosh I didn’t think it’d be my luck to have you answer the phone. I’m in a phone-box round the corner from home.’

‘Oh Johnny, how are you?’

‘I’m all right. How are you?’

‘Fine.’

‘How’s yer arm?’

‘It’s OK. Johnny, this is a silly conversation. You’ll run
out of money. Let’s talk properly. Do you miss me?’

‘What do you think? ’Course I do. School up here’s diabolical.’

‘It’ll soon be the holidays,’ she said, ‘maybe we could get together.’

‘Let’s,’ he answered simply. ‘Can you come up for a few days? You can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the bedchair downstairs.’

‘I expect so. Though whether they’ll let me after the last time, and the raid, you know what grown-ups are?’

The pips went and she heard more coins go in, then Johnny’s voice returned, sounding in a great rush. ‘If you can’t maybe I’ll come down. If I can raise the cash, that is. I have to pay for that bloody boat to be mended.’

‘I’ve got some money, Johnny. You know I never spend all my allowance. We ought to be able to manage something. We could meet half-way perhaps, then no one will know and no one can stop us. Could you get away for long enough?’

‘No trouble, Annie. Mum’s at the factory all day, and I can always say I’m going to a pal’s house for meals.’

The pips went again and Annie heard the clink of money against metal. ‘I meant to write,’ Johnny said, ‘but my letters wouldn’t be as good as yours. I reckon I can talk better’n write, y’know.’

Annie laughed delightedly. ‘I thought maybe you wanted to forget you’d known me,’ she teased.

‘Don’t be bloody daft,’ he said.

Before he rang off they had arranged for Annie to telephone him at the telephone-box on the corner of his road
at midday on Saturday. ‘I’ll have something worked out by then,’ she told him, suddenly taking charge, ‘but we’ll need to be careful because if they find out they’ll all probably try to stop us meeting.’

Longing to tell someone, she didn’t trust Janet enough to confide in her, so she whispered the news to Podge, her fat teddy-bear when they were snuggled into the bedclothes that night.

She had a strange dream that night too. She dreamt she had run away from the Dovers, but instead of going home, in case her people weren’t there she went to Johnny’s house. Mrs Bookman said she could stay, and although at first she jumped at the chance it didn’t work out. They were kind but they lived in a totally different way from her and she wasn’t sure she could live like it for always. She woke up as she was running out of their front door, and she was crying.

When she rang Johnny on Saturday she had it worked out and written down. She told him the train times, and how she had arranged it with Janet to say that she was going with her and her family on an outing, should anyone question her. ‘Can you meet the train, Johnny?’

‘I’ll be there, Annie.’

‘Good. I know the times coming back. I mustn’t be too late. That’s why I’m coming very early.’