Catching Falling Stars

by Karen McCombie

  “There are seven of you?” I gasp at the size of her family. “There are only three of us, and that’s bad enough.”

  Of course it’s not bad at all, even when Lil takes over the dressing table with all her things and keeps dropping her hairpins on the floor for me to stand on in bare feet…

  “It’s like I’ve got two brothers: Harry and you,” says Lawrence, turning to grin at Archie. They’re obviously the best of best buddies for him to say that.

  “So have you got brothers – real ones, I mean – Archie?” I ask him.

  “N-n-no. It’s just me and my m-m-mum. Haven’t s-s-seen her in a year.”

  Archie is blushing as he speaks, as if he’s shy of letting me hear his voice.

  “I hope my parents come to visit us soon,” I say wistfully. “But I don’t know when I’ll see my sister, Lil, again. She’s in the Land Army.”

  “What – she chose to work with pigs and digging and stuff?” Jess sniggers. “I mean, Popeye’s quite sweet, but cleaning up after him … urgh! If I was older, I’d join up proper. Be a WAAF. See a bit of action.”

  “You’d be stuck at a desk, serving tea to the officers, you mean!” Lawrence teases her, and runs off at a gallop with Jess giggling on his back.

  Which leaves me and Archie dawdling on our own together.

  “Hey, G-Glory, did you know that on S-S-Saturday night, there’s a film sh-showing in the ch-church hall?” Archie suddenly says enthusiastically.

  “Really?” I reply.

  I am interested; that sounds fun. But I’m also slightly preoccupied with watching Lawrence and Jess gallop and yelp their way closer to the cottage. I hope Auntie Sylvia doesn’t look out and see who’s making all the noise.

  “Uh-huh. I don’t know what f-f-film they’ll be showing yet. But the fish and chip van is coming to the village too. See?”

  Archie points at a chalkboard sign saying as much, leaning up against the side of the pub. But I can’t concentrate on reading the board or listening properly to what Archie is saying because Lawrence has come to a stop right in front of the cottage, and Jess is waving madly at us to hurry over and see something.

  “I’d better find out what’s going on,” I say to Archie, and break into a run.

  He follows me, and we arrive beside Lawrence and Jess, who each have a forefinger pressed to their lips.

  They’re staring through the cottage window, watching as tall, grey owl Auntie Sylvia waltzes – awkwardly – with my seven-year-old brother. I can hear some scratchy old tune being played.

  “Ppppffffff!” Jess snorts, which sets Lawrence off.

  “Shush!” I whisper, trying to shut them up.

  But it’s too late.

  Auntie Sylvia turns and frowns at us all.

  “B-b-bye!” says Archie, as he, Lawrence and Jess scuttle away before the front door is thrown open.

  “What’s going on, Glory?” Auntie Sylvia demands, looking along the road at the fast-retreating figures of my friends.

  “Nothing! I was just walking home with them and—”

  “Inside, please.”

  Her voice is stern. I think she is either cross with me, cross with Lawrence, Jess and Archie, or cross with herself for being spotted doing something frivolous.

  “Look, Glory!” Rich chatters excitedly as the door clicks shut. “Auntie Sylvia got the gramophone to work. And she was showing me how her dad taught her to dance when she was a little girl!”

  “Now, dear, I really don’t want you hanging around with those children,” Auntie Sylvia says to me, crossing her arms and ignoring Rich completely. “They’re really not very nice.”

  “Oh, but I didn’t think they were very nice either,” I try to explain, “till they helped save me and Rich yesterday.”

  “They didn’t ‘save’ you, Glory,” Auntie Sylvia corrects me in quite a stern, teacherly voice. “You were all just in the same place at the same time, and very lucky to escape serious harm.”

  “Glory, Glory, Glory?” mumbles Rich, coming to slip his hand into mine. He doesn’t like the heated way we’re talking to each other.

  “It’s fine, Rich,” I say, giving his hand a squeeze.

  Because of him, I’m not going to argue with Auntie Sylvia, but I feel suddenly so frustrated and confused. Why is everything so muddled in this village? Why is Auntie Sylvia being so unfair and unkind about Lawrence and the others? She doesn’t seem to want to believe that Archie was brave enough to put himself in danger to push me and Jess out of harm’s way. And Lawrence did the same for Rich.

  On the other hand, why are my new friends – and lots of other people in Thorntree – not particularly nice about Auntie Sylvia?

  “Glory’s right, Richard. Everything is fine,” she says, trying to regain her composure. “Now, how about a glass of milk and a—”

  Clonk-clonk-clonk!

  We all stop dead at the sound of the rarely used brass fox door knocker.

  “Who on earth can that be?” Auntie Sylvia wonders aloud, astounded that anyone should be there, since visitors are so very rare at the cottage.

  While she pauses for a second and tidies her hair behind her ears, I take the opportunity to peek out of the window.

  “Oh!” I gasp, getting goose pimples.

  For there, on the doorstep, stands the big surprise Mum wrote about in her letter…

  The girl on the doorstep is wearing a green sweater, deer brown jodphurs and chunky lace-up boots.

  She’s also wearing a slick of red lipstick, a high-rolled hairdo that must have taken a lot of time and effort to do, and far too much perfume. I could smell it practically before Auntie Sylvia opened the door. It reminds me a little of the scent of the sweet factory, wafting over our whole neighbourhood back home.

  “Can I help you?” says Auntie Sylvia, clearly wondering who this rather flashy young woman is.

  “Lil!” Rich yelps.

  He ducks under Auntie Sylvia’s arm and rushes at her.

  “Hey, Squirt!” Lil laughs, hugging and tickling him at the same time. “Miss me, did you?”

  “It’s Lillian, our sister,” I tell a visibly flummoxed Auntie Sylvia.

  “Oh, oh, I see. Do come in, then, Miss Gilbert!”

  “Miss Gilbert? Oh, no – that’s too posh for me,” Lil laughs. “Plain Lil will do nicely, ta.”

  “Well, do come in, Lillian,” says Auntie Sylvia, sounding a little uncomfortable with the sudden familiarity.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask my sister, too stunned to know what to do or how to act. It’s just so bizarre to see her here in Auntie Sylvia’s little sitting room.

  “Oh, shut up and give me a hug first!” Lil says in her usual straight-talking way, and holds an arm out for me.

  I rush to her, suddenly thinking of home and us, giggling together in our bedroom about some nonsense or other.

  “Oh, Lil…” I sigh, burying my face into the scratchy wool of her jumper.

  I can’t help it. I sob and sob and sob, while she hugs me tight, kisses my head and tells me it’ll be all right.

  “Wish I could’ve come and seen you all after what happened,” she murmurs, “but Mum wrote and said not to bother; that everyone was fine, and anyway, she was sending you and Rich here to Thorntree as soon as she could.”

  I cry more, the memories of the plane yesterday and the blast back at home crushing and pushing to the front of my mind, even though I’ve been doing my best to keep them locked away for my brother’s sake, so I can be strong for him.

  And then I feel Rich wriggle his hand into mine and know I have to pull myself together.

  “I’m fine, Rich,” I tell him, breaking away from Lil’s comforting cuddle.

  I’m expecting to see worry etched on his face, but instead he’s smiling.

  “I know,” says Rich,
patting my hand. “And Auntie Sylvia says to come through to the kitchen – she’s making tea and says we can have biscuits!”

  That makes me laugh – and cry too, with sheer relief. I don’t have to shoulder the responsibility for looking after Rich all by myself. Auntie Sylvia is looking out for him, and now Lil is here too, even if it’s just for a quick visit. I didn’t realize how much I just wanted to be a thirteen-year-old girl, instead of a grown-up in charge of a small boy, gorgeous as he is…

  “Come on then, Rich,” Lil says cheerfully, as she links her arm into mine. “Lead the way!”

  We go through the passage and into the kitchen, where Auntie Sylvia is laying the table, using the best china that I’ve only seen out when Reverend Ashton has been here.

  “Mm, smashing!” says Lil, bowling right up to the table and helping herself to a home-made piece of shortbread. She screeches out a chair and plonks herself down, quite at home.

  Me and Rich sit down too, but wait till Auntie Sylvia passes us the plate before we take our shortbread.

  “So, Lillian … what brings you here?” Auntie Sylvia asks, now pouring tea into the dainty china cups. She’s glancing warily at my sister, unsure if she likes her manners, I worry.

  “Well,” says Lil, talking with her mouth full, “I’m finished my training with the Land Army now—”

  “Was it fun?” Rich interrupts.

  “No! It was not!” Lil laughs loudly. “It’s hard work, Squirt. Look at my hands! And my nails! Thank God I can still do my hair and wear lipstick, or I’d look like a complete country bumpkin. Ha!”

  I feel like shushing her. Doesn’t Lil realize that could seem like slur on Auntie Sylvia, who lives here in a little village – in the country?

  “So, are you on your way to a farm?” I ask her, hoping Lil will answer me and talk normally, more politely.

  I don’t want Auntie Sylvia to get the wrong impression of her. Though it’s probably too late for that already…

  “You bet!” Lil says with a grin, taking out a mirror compact and checking her lipstick for crumbs. “Me and my chum Sally were all set to be sent to this awful-sounding place. Get this: it was halfway up a hill, miles from anywhere, with only a farmer’s wife for company. Not a handsome man in sight – ha!”

  She snaps shut her mirror compact case.

  “So me and Sally said no thank you very much to that. And then I’m talking to the officer in charge about other farms looking for help, and – ta-nah! – here I am!”

  “What do you mean?” I ask her.

  “Me and Sally; we’re only working up the road from here – at Eastfield Farm!”

  “Yay!” yells Rich, jumping off his seat to hug Lil.

  Meanwhile my head is reeling at the surprise. And I spot Auntie Sylvia flinch at the mention of Eastfield Farm, as if she’s been slapped.

  “Well, I … I … do you think that’s appropriate?” she asks Lil. “I mean, Mr Wills has no wife. You girls will be quite unchaperoned.”

  “Ha!” Lil laughs in Auntie Sylvia’s face, as if that’s the silliest thing she’s ever heard. “Me and Sally don’t need chaperoned, love. We’ll manage very well, don’t you worry.”

  My toes curl at hearing Lil call Auntie Sylvia “love”. What is she doing? I love Lil. I’m so pleased she’s here. But I wish she’d shut up. She’s gone from comforting me to embarrassing me in just a few minutes flat.

  “But how can you stay at the farm, Lil?” frets Rich. “We couldn’t. They have a broken roof and not enough bedrooms.”

  “Don’t you worry, Squirt,” says Lil, ruffling Rich’s hair till it’s messy. “Me and Sally are in Mr Wills’ son’s room. Do you know Harry? The oldest one? He’s bunking down in the hayloft.”

  “We’ve, um, met him,” I tell her. I glance quickly across at Auntie Sylvia and see that her lips are pursed into that tight line she does when she’s disapproving or agitated. She’s probably remembering the last time she spoke to Harry, when he was haranguing her on the doorstep, trying to get her to take us in.

  “Well, how lovely for your brother and sister to have you so close,” says Auntie Sylvia, remembering her manners, even if Lil hasn’t. “Will you stay and have dinner with us, Lillian?”

  “No, ta!” says Lil, getting to her feet and grabbing herself another shortbread biscuit. “Mr Wills is expecting me back. Got to unpack and get a tour of the farm with Sally.”

  “Perhaps you might come and eat with us on Saturday, then?” Auntie Sylvia suggests instead. “About six o’clock?”

  “Oh, yes, please. Say yes!” Rich begs Lil, jumping up and down as she walks towards the front door, scattering crumbs in her wake.

  “Yes – great. See you then. Ta ta!”

  With kisses blown, Lil leaves in a fug of sugar-sweet perfume – and leaves Auntie Sylvia with a distinctly cold expression on her face.

  And me? I’m left feeling cross with Lil for being almost cheeky to Auntie Sylvia.

  But I’m cross with Auntie Sylvia too, for looking at Lil as if she’s the most common girl she’s ever set eyes on.

  Thank goodness for my darling Rich, I think, wrapping an arm around him.

  He may be odd, but he’s the most straightforward person in this muddlesome world I’m now living in…

  “She’s good fun, your sister,” says Lawrence.

  “Yeah, she’s r-r-really good f-fun!” Archie joins in.

  I’m feeling muddled again.

  Me and Rich have come to the common to have a walk and muck about with Lawrence, Archie and Jess. I couldn’t wait to get here.

  But now I’m irritated and a bit jealous. Lil came to see us on Monday, and now it’s Thursday. I know she’s coming for dinner on Saturday, but it’s hard hearing what fun someone else is having with your sister in the meantime.

  “What’s wrong with you, Hope ’n’ Glory?” asks Jess, spotting something’s up.

  Not that I’m going to tell her; Rich is missing Lil madly now that she’s so close but yet so far.

  “I’m all right,” I say, as I stroll and watch Rich skip-hop in zigzags through the long grass just ahead of us. “Just a bit tired.”

  That much is true. I sat till late at the bedroom window last night, my eyes fixed on the faint orange glow on the dark horizon, my nails digging in my palm as I watched London burning again, knowing there was absolutely nothing I could do except keep my fingers tightly crossed that it hadn’t affected Mum and Dad.

  “You’ve got a face on you, that’s all,” Jess comments, putting her own face uncomfortably close to mine.

  I’m still a little scared of Jess. In their different ways, I like easy-going Lawrence and shy and sweet Archie a lot now that I know them better. But Jess…

  “Leave Glory alone,” Lawrence tells Jess now, seeing my predicament and wrapping an arm around her neck in a jokey stranglehold.

  “Get off!” she yelps, but looks like she’s loving it.

  Actually, does she sort of like Lawrence, I wonder? But then I think probably not. Jess just might be the most fearless and tomboyish girl I’ve ever met. I bet she’d think I was having a laugh if I suggested she liked Lawrence any more than Archie, or Popeye the pig, even.

  “So are you g-g-going to see the film Saturday, G-G-Glory?” Archie suddenly asks me.

  His cheeks are a little pink when he talks. I bet if boy-mad Lil was here, she would think he was about to ask me out. Ha!

  “Yeah, come,” Jess says to me as she wriggles free from Lawrence’s grasp. “It’s a Western. Yee-ha! Stick ’em up, pardner!”

  She acts like she has guns in her hands – Lawrence and Archie both grin and put their hands in the air. Rich turns to see what’s going on and starts neighing, pretending he’s on a horse.

  “I don’t think we can come. I don’t think Auntie Sylvia would approve,” I tell them all.


  Another ripple of muddle engulfs me.

  I lied to Auntie Sylvia earlier, saying me and Rich would come here and gather her some damsons at last – and missed out the fact that we were meeting Lawrence, Archie and Jess.

  “Ooh, her! She wouldn’t approve of anything that’s fun, would she?” says Jess, now putting on a la-di-dah pretend posh voice. “Probably thinks going to see a film is too common, the silly snob that she is.”

  “She’s not really a snob,” I try to say in Auntie Sylvia’s defence. “It’s more that she’s a bit shy, I think.”

  “Ha!” snorts Lawrence. “Pull the other one! When I was little, I remember that my dad used to try to say hello to her in church, but she just ignored him, like he was dirt. So he never bothers nowadays.”

  Now I’m muddled again. Who’s right and who’s wrong here? Is Auntie Sylvia more snobby than shy?

  “I don’t think she has a lot of spare money for things like films,” I say instead, though I don’t know what Auntie Sylvia’s situation actually is.

  “But Dad gave us those sixpences, remember, Glory?” Rich stops skip-hopping long enough to say. “Couldn’t we tell Auntie Sylvia we can pay for ourselves?”

  “I don’t think so,” I try to let him down gently. In truth, I think Auntie Sylvia has more of a problem with being so close to the people of the village than the cost of tickets.

  Maybe she is a snob…

  “Anyway, we’ve got Lil coming for tea on Saturday, haven’t we, Rich?” I say, as I remember another reason we can’t see the Western.

  My brother’s expression instantly flips from disappointment to joy.

  “Hey, Titchy-Rich,” Jess suddenly calls out to him. “Race you to that fence over there. Loser’s a smelly cowpat!”

  “No! I’m going to win!” Rich giggles and hurtles off ahead of her.

  Jess muddles me too. One minute she’s spiky, the next she’s sweet.

  “She likes your brother a lot,” says Lawrence, nodding after Jess as she speeds to catch up with Rich.

  “She didn’t always,” I can’t help myself saying. “The day we arrived, I was in the shop, and when I came out, she was teasing Rich.”