Which is bad, because it hurts to laugh with my cracked ribs.
“A panda boxer,” says Rich, throwing fake punches at me.
He arrived at the safety of Thorntree with one black eye, and has now survived two plane crashes (one enemy, one friendly) and has two black eyes and a scar over the ridge of his nose to prove it.
“Are you sure you’re all right, though?” I ask him, glancing back at Auntie Sylvia, who’s chatting to a neighbour about the events of the weekend. “I know she won’t mind if you stay off school today, Rich.”
“I’m fine, thank you. I like being with Auntie Sylvia,” says Rich, starting to skip-hop his way through what’s left of the cabbages. Some have been harvested and the more rotten ones simply left to the very last of the butterflies. “Are you all right, Glory?”
“Yes. Auntie Sylvia has bound me up nice and tight,” I tell him as cheerfully as I can, while delicately patting the bandages under my blouse.
I’m all right about my ribs, and the scratches and scrapes. They’re all a bonus, considering I’d expected to die when the force of the crashing plane flung us like rag dolls across the back field.
I’m actually more worried about going into school today, and seeing Jess.
I heard she was all right, the least bashed about of us all.
Lawrence got away with just scrapes too.
I’d love to see Archie, of course, but Mr Wills dropped by the cottage yesterday to chat to Auntie Sylvia, and told us that Archie is more or less fine but has possible concussion and might not be at for school for few days.
As for Jess … I don’t know what I’ll say to her when I see her. “So, you lied to me? And you lied to my brother and told him I was waiting for him in the field?”
Rich explained that much yesterday, when Auntie Sylvia asked us to talk her through what had happened the night of the barn dance.
Or maybe I could say, “I didn’t know you hated me so much to do that, Jess. Was it just because you saw that Lawrence liked me?”
But that didn’t make sense either. She’d spotted me holding hands with Archie later the evening. It must have been obvious right then that Lawrence wasn’t the one I was fond of in that way.
Maybe Jess was just angry with me for breaking up the Outsiders by letting feelings get in the way…
Whatever her reason, I’ll never forgive her for putting Rich in danger. Jess, of all people, should know what it’s like to have a brother even younger and more trusting than his years.
“Hold on,” I tell Rich now, as he nearly walks out into the road.
Typically, he hasn’t spotted the bus rounding the corner, drawing to a creaking, grinding stop by the gaggle of villagers waiting to board it and be taken to town.
“Careful, Rich,” I remind him. “You’ve got to keep your eyes open for—”
“GLORY! RICH!!”
The familiar voice … it’s like the sound of home.
You know, it is the sound of home.
“Mum?” I call out, aware of the quaver in my voice. “MUM!”
She’s just come off the bus, and hurries as fast as her Sunday-best shoes will let her across the rough road, her cobalt winter coat open and flapping like a bluebird’s wings as she runs to grab us in her arms.
“Mum!” yelps Rich, jumping up and down as she hugs him.
With streaming eyes, I turn to see where Auntie Sylvia is, and see her blurrily rushing towards us.
“Mrs Gilbert! What a surprise – how lovely to see you,” she tells Mum, hovering above us now and looking a little useless. “How … I mean, why…”
“Our Lil got a message through to us,” says Mum, on her knees and clutching us both around our waists, as if she daren’t let us go.
“How did she do that?” asks Auntie Sylvia, bemused. “The telegraph poles have been damaged. We had a plane come down and—”
“Indeed, Miss Saunders. But yesterday Lil persuaded Mr Wills’ oldest lad to drive her on the tractor to some neighbouring village around here,” says Mum, still locked in a hug with us. “She phoned our local civil defence HQ and of all the luck, her dad was on duty and took the call! And when he came home, of course I’m saying to him, first thing in the morning, Norman, I’m off to Thorntree to see the state of our little darlings.”
“Well, that’s very enterprising of Lillian – Lil,” says Auntie Sylvia. “It was quite a nasty experience for the children. What happened was—”
“Yes, the bus driver told me all about it,” Mum interrupts, perhaps not realizing how rude that might seem. “And I can see for myself the state my poor babies are in!”
“We’re all right, Mum,” I try to reassure her, but she’s concentrating on Rich, leaning back so she can properly study his battered face.
Rich – who’s forgotten what he looks like – just grins back happily at her.
Then I notice Auntie Sylvia is wearing her thin-lipped grey-owl scowl.
“I’ve tried to take very good care of them, Mrs Gilbert,” she says, protectively.
“And I appreciate that, Miss Saunders,” says Mum, her gaze moving from Rich to me as she speaks. “But I’m here now, my poppets. And your old mum will take look after you. Quick as we can, we’ll get you both back home, since the country’s no safer than the city, it seems!”
Torn: that’s how I suddenly feel inside.
It’s crazily wonderful to see Mum again, but she doesn’t understand how lovely Auntie Sylvia is. And I suppose Mum thinks Auntie Sylvia might not have taken enough care of us, given the way Rich looks right now. But – in spite of our ridiculously bad luck to have been so close to two stricken planes – Mum also has no idea how happy and safe we’ve felt here these last few—
“Glory – you have to come quick.”
It’s Archie!
I’m surprised to see him standing over us, looking tired and gaunt, with a cut to his lower lip and a pleading look in his eyes.
“It’s Jess; she’s on the bus. She’s leaving us. She’s leaving Thorntree.”
His words chill me to the bone, and for a second I freeze, unsure what to think. And then I know what I need to do.
“Mum, I’ll be back in a minute,” I say, wriggling free and gasping as my ribs protest at the sudden burst of speed.
“She feels awful, Glory,” Archie says as he lopes awkwardly by my side. Obviously something else hurts apart from his head. “She came up to the farm yesterday and had a real row with Lawrence.”
“With Lawrence? Why? She adores Lawrence!” I say, without thinking I might be saying something Jess might not want broadcast. Though after what we’ve been through, maybe there’s no time for niceties any more.
“But that’s it; she told Rich to go off to the field on Saturday night because Lawrence asked her to do it. And she’d do anything for Lawrence.”
“It was Lawrence who came up with the lie?” I gasp. “Why would he do that? I thought he really liked my brother!”
“He did. He does. Lawrence just wanted an excuse to get you on your own. Away from me.”
I gaze at Archie and realize there was more than one argument yesterday. The boys have fallen out too, haven’t they?
What a mess!
And all because of me…
But I have no time to think about that now, not when I need to get to Jess before it’s too late.
“Can I give someone a message?” I check quickly with the bus driver, who’s helping someone with awkward luggage.
“Two minutes, dearie,” I hear him say as I bound onboard.
Jess’s sitting on her own in the third row back. She has her head down; I think she’s seen me coming. I slither into the seat beside her.
“Jess, whatever’s happened, please don’t go,” I beg her.
“I’m so sorry, Glory!” she bursts out, lifting her head
up to stare out of the window in the direction of the green and my mum and brother. “Is Rich all right?”
“He’s fine – it looks worse than it is,” I try to assure her.
I notice she’s clutching her gas mask box in her hand, and a lumpy drawstring bag is at her feet. Is that all she came to Thorntree with? Is that all she’s leaving with? I don’t suppose her new dress is in there. If it was anything like mine, it’ll have been too filthy and torn to repair.
“If anything had happened to Titchy-Rich, I’d never have forgiven myself,” she mumbles. “Or Lawrence.”
I can’t believe this is happening. Our little band of Outsiders, it’s falling apart, and I don’t want it to.
“Look, Archie just told me what happened,” I garble fast. “I know it wasn’t your fault, Jess. Please don’t leave Thorntree because you think I’m angry with you!”
Jess finally turns to look at me, and gives a small shrug.
“It’s not just what happened on Saturday night,” she explains. “Being round Rich, it just got to me … it made me sad. I realized how much I miss my brothers and sisters. I want to be with them so badly.”
“But why does that mean you have to leave? Can’t you just ask Reverend Ashton to arrange a visit? That might make you feel better.”
Jess shakes her head.
“It’s the pub too. I hate working there, like I’m Charlie and Mary’s unpaid servant.”
“So what are you going to do?” I ask her.
“Well, I’ve been saving up my tips from the customers, so I’ve got my bus fare to town,” she tells me, patting her jacket pocket and making it jangle. “And once I’ve seen my Tommy and the rest of ’em, I’m going to take the train to London and get home to Mum and Dad and the others.”
“Anyone not travelling, kindly leave the bus,” the driver interrupts us with a bellow.
And I know then that I’ve run out of time, that I’m not going to change Jess’s mind.
“Meet you back in London sometime?” I say, as I scramble to my feet.
In that moment I spot that she’s saved the pansy corsage from the dress and pinned it on her lapel.
“Yeah, sometime,” she says with a nod.
“Outsiders for ever?”
I hold my thumb up to Jess – and she presses hers against it, mumbling “For ever.”
With that, I turn and hurry off the bus before she can see the tears in my eyes.
“All right?” says Archie, waiting for me on the road.
“Sort of,” I say, curling my arm into his and leaning my head on his shoulder.
Then as the bus begins to trundle off, I hear the thwack of a window being shoved open.
“Oi, Hope ’n’ Glory!” Jess calls out to us. “Give Popeye a big kiss goodbye from me, yeah?”
I burst out laughing and don’t care if it makes my ribs ache all over again…
“I really shouldn’t have worn these shoes, should I?” says Mum, as we pick our way through the towers of sprouts and away from the wreckage of the Bristol Blenheim, its nose buried deep, deep in the earth.
Rich loved showing the wreckage to her, same as he’s desperate to show Mum round the rest of Eastfield Farm. He wants to show her the barn where the dance was and the hay bales he scrambled over with his new friends. He wants to reintroduce her to Harry, and Auntie Sylvia’s friend Mr Wills, and see if we can find Lil too, of course.
At least, for my sake, Lawrence won’t be at the farm.
He’ll be at school right now, probably dreading seeing me, and wondering why I’m so late turning up.
He won’t realize I’m leaving for London, same as Jess. He won’t have a clue that after this, we’ll be going back to the cottage, letting ourselves in the back door with the key Auntie Sylvia told us was under the mat, and packing our things.
He won’t know that while he’s in afternoon lessons, me and Rich will be standing outside Mr Brett’s shop, waiting for the first of the two buses that’ll rumble along endless roads and take us back to London…
“You’re a real city girl, aren’t you?” I joke with Mum, holding my hand out so I can help her climb the fence that Rich has already scrambled over.
“Certainly am,” says Mum, hiking her skirt up to make things easier. “Can’t think how you lot put up with all this.”
She talking about the dried-up cowpats she’s avoiding stepping in as we begin to walk through the back field.
“It’s not so bad. Look,” I tell her, forcing her to stop and take in the view.
The back field rolls downhill towards the farm – where Archie will hopefully be resting on the settee after coming to find me this morning.
And as far as the eye can see, brown, green and golden fields roll on and on, dotted with trees, hedgerows and cows. Everything is so still and quiet and magical … apart from the small boy running down the hillside with his arms outstretched, yelling, “Wheeee…!”
“He’s grown up a lot,” Mum says, watching Rich too.
“Mmm,” I murmur, thinking that it’s true in lots of ways.
My brother just isn’t the nervy boy who came here, friendless and scared of his own shadow, so shy he’d rather wet himself than ask to go to the lav, poor lamb. He hasn’t even needed Duckie the last couple of days. He set off for school this morning happily leaving Duckie and Mr Mousey at home, flopped together on the dressing table.
My tummy gives a lurch; how will Rich fit in back in our street, back at his old school? Will he end up alone in the playground again, pretending stones are fossils, ignoring the bullies as they tease him?
Though I don’t think he’s really taken it in, the fact is that Mum means to take us home today.
And I certainly don’t think Rich understood that when we waved off Auntie Sylvia as she headed for the primary school, he wouldn’t be seeing her again.
Auntie Sylvia had seemed so matter-of-fact, telling us about the key, accepting what was about to happen. But I’d seen her stumble as she’d hurried off…
“Is that– is that Lil?” says Mum, suddenly noticing a tractor chugging into view down below. A figure sitting on the bumper is waving to Rich. And now Rich is shouting something that the whipping wind won’t let us hear and pointing up the hill to us.
Lil sees us – sees Mum – and leaps expertly off the slow-moving tractor.
My sister grasps Rich’s hand and they both come running uphill towards us.
As we set off to meet them, I laugh at something that’s just fluttered in front of us this second.
“What?” asks Mum.
“It was a cabbage white butterfly,” I say. “A long way from home!”
Mum suddenly stops, and puts a hand on my arm.
“It’s like Rich, isn’t it?” she says.
“What?” I mutter, unsure of what she means.
“Rich is a long way from home too…” she replies, as my little brother rushes back to her.
“Mum, it’s Lil. Lil!” he laughs, pointing behind him as Lil pants and waves her way towards us.
“Rich?” says Mum, dropping down on to her knees and putting her hands on his arms. “You’re not coming home to London with me, are you?”
Rich grins at her, his battered face beaming.
“No, of course not,” he laughs easily. “I live here!”
Mum wraps him in a quick hug, and then she scrambles back to her feet to envelop Lil in the hug too.
As I watch Mum’s face – so sad to lose her little boy for another while, so pleased to see him so happy – I know that cabbage white showed itself to me for a reason.
It was my sign too.
I’m not ready to leave this place either.
Rich still needs me, even if it’s less and less as each day passes.
And I want to see what happens with Lil and Harry, w
ith Auntie Sylvia and Mr Wills, with me and Archie.
And Lawrence… I’ve just spotted him now, hunched on the back of the tractor behind his brother. He’s skived school today, then? Maybe he’s been desperate to avoid me, after what happened. He won’t have expected to see me here now, that’s for sure. He’s gazing up at us, a hand shielding his eyes from the autumn sun.
I hold up my thumb, hoping he understands my meaning, and that I forgive him.
It takes a second for it to sink in, but then he lifts his other hand and gives me an Outsider thumbs up in reply.
My smile is so wide it makes the scar on my cheek twinge, but that’s all right, I think, touching it lightly with my finger.
It’s a fallen star, a lucky sign, Archie said.
Who knows what will happen to us, what will happen with our future because of this war – but maybe I can help.
I’ll make a wish upon a star that we stay safe, and all live happily ever after…
May
V.E. Day
I close the cottage door and breathe in the scent of the early spring roses that fill the tiny front garden.
Out in the back garden, the twisted old cherry tree is giddy with fat pink blossoms. The chickens like to peck hopefully at the dropped blooms, never remembering that they don’t taste as good as their feed, or a nice fat worm.
“Here, do you need a hand?”
Lil stands at the gate, offering me an arm.
“I’m fine, thank you, Lil,” I tell her, as I notice how much eye make-up she’s wearing. She’s so pretty, she doesn’t need all that gunk around her eyes.
“It’s Lily, Nana Glory!” she says overly patiently.
“I know that, sweetheart,” I tell her, taking her arm after all, since my great-granddaughter does like to fuss over me, as if I’m an elderly china doll. “It’s a habit that I’m not likely to slip out of at my age!”
I was pleased that her mother, my granddaughter Ruth, named her after my sister.
Not as much as Lil was, naturally. She was beside herself when Ruth and her husband Ben Skyped her to show her the baby and tell her the news.
Catching Falling Stars Page 16
