A Girl Can Dream

by Anne Bennett

  Billy had a wind-up train on a track. From the box lid it looked a tremendously exciting thing and Meg could guess that her father and Terry would play with it just as much as Billy would. For Ruth there was a soft fluffy teddy and a Jack-in-the-box, which Meg felt sure she would enjoy, though they might have to work it for her at first.

  They had sent Meg an elegant watch with a silver face and a leather strap, in its own box. She laid the watch over her wrist and turned her hand this way and that, for it was the first watch she had ever owned. When she lifted out the large box for her father and realised it contained cigars, she suddenly remembered her mother had always bought a few cigars for her father at Christmas, because he always said it properly completed the dinner. Terry’s box was even larger and contained Meccano, the lid decorated with all the things that a person could make with all the metal rods and plates and screws and bolts.

  Underneath the toys there were clothes. Hat, scarf and glove sets for the three girls, a soft grey cardigan for her father, seamen’s jumpers for Terry and Billy. And for Ruth there was a little pink padded all-in-one that would cover her clothes and could be zipped up snugly. It had a little fur-trimmed hood and mittens attached and Meg knew, whatever the weather, Ruth would be as warm as toast in that.

  She decided not to mention the presents at all; she wrapped everything up again, put them back in the crate and bumped it up the stairs to hide it in her mother’s side of the wardrobe, where her father never went.

  Downstairs once more, she opened the small parcel she had taken from the very bottom of the crate to find it contained cards from all her American relations and a letter from her mother’s eldest brother. He said that the presents were from all of them.

  This will probably be a sorrowful time for all your family, because it is the first without your mother, and so we all hope the things we’ve sent, especially the toys for the children, will help a little on Christmas morning and hope, despite the inevitable sense of loss, you still manage to enjoy the day.

  As she read the letter, tears prickled behind Meg’s eyes at the kindness of her mother’s brothers and sister. Strange to think that she had relatives miles away that she would probably never see, though she knew plenty more were in the same boat.

  Christmas Day began very early. The children exclaimed in delight as they pulled one item after another from the stocking they had hung on the bedhead, and declared themselves pleased as punch with everything. Despite the early hour they were so interested in playing with them that Meg had trouble getting them all ready for Mass in time.

  After a wonderful roast chicken dinner, praised by everyone, followed by the sumptuous pudding they had all stirred, Charlie said that he would wash up the dishes and Terry could dry them and give Meg a break. She was really touched by such thoughtfulness and when all was finished she asked her father to give her a hand bringing something downstairs and so produced the crate. As they examined the contents they were almost speechless with pleasure and Meg blessed those kind people in America. The excitement the children felt at being given things they never in their wildest dreams imagined they’d ever own drove any sadness they might be feeling to the back of their minds, and the day took on an almost magical quality. Charlie smoked his cigar and treated himself to a small glass of whiskey, with a look of delighted pleasure on his face, and later, when the boys set out the clockwork railway, he was as interested as they, while Ruth sat on Meg’s knee and waved her arms excitedly, fascinated by the trains running around the track.

  The girls had taken their rag dolls out on the street to be admired by their friends, and when the cold and darkness drew them in they did some colouring with the new books and crayons. No one was interested in much tea, but Meg made a few chicken sandwiches and put them on the table with the Christmas cake that was May’s present to them. There were mince pies as well, some of which Billy had helped May make, so they were a bit squashed-looking but they tasted all right.

  When everyone had eaten what they wanted, Charlie led them all in carol singing. Her father had such a pleasant voice that Meg would have been happy just to listen, but Charlie would have none of it and soon she was singing along with the rest. They sang till the children were yawning and Ruth had fallen asleep on her knee, and when Meg got up to make a last drink for the children before bed she placed her in her father’s arms.

  He was about to protest but Meg said, ‘This is your baby daughter and she has just enjoyed her first Christmas. Is it too much to ask that you nurse her while I make us all a drink?’

  Charlie looked down at the sleeping child, her warm body snuggled into him. He knew he would never feel the same for her as he did the others, but that knowledge would upset Meg and he had no desire to do that today of all days. So he said, ‘No, Meg, ’course it isn’t.’

  Meg made tea for them all with a smile on her face. Christmas Day was almost over and she had done more than just survive it, she had enjoyed it and she thought she could look to the future with confidence.

  SEVEN

  In late February, as the weather became just a little warmer, Ruth suddenly rolled over on the mat in front of the fire and drew her legs underneath her. May, who was having a cup of tea with Meg, chuckled. ‘That young ’un will be crawling afore long,’ she said. ‘Then the fun will start.’

  May was right. The next day Ruth crept forward a few hesitant paces, but by the end of the week she was going at a hefty pace. ‘One body’s work, they are at that age,’ May remarked, and Meg knew she was right. The children were great at minding their baby sister when they were home, but there was still the washing and housework to be done during the day when Meg was alone now that Billy was at school too.

  ‘Without May next door I would be lost,’ Meg told Joy when they met in mid March. ‘She minds her when I am in the brew house doing the washing or ironing the stuff the following day.’

  ‘What about your auntie?’ Joy asked. ‘Rose – isn’t that her name? Doesn’t she give a hand?’

  ‘She used to, but she won’t be able to soon,’ Meg said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She’s getting a job. Says the money will come in handy. It was a shock to me because there was no mention of her getting any sort of job before.’

  ‘Well, there weren’t jobs about for many people,’ Joy pointed out. ‘Lots of men couldn’t get jobs either. You’d see lines of them just standing on street corners.’

  ‘Yes,’ Meg said. ‘There’s not so many of them now.’

  ‘That’s because they think there might be a war and they are getting prepared,’ Joy said. ‘What’s your aunt looking into?’

  ‘Sewing parachutes,’ Meg said. ‘Says it’s really well paid.’

  Joy grimaced. ‘Our dad says if there is going to be a war it will be fought from the air and they’ll drop bombs on us like the Germans did in that Spanish town a while ago. I suppose people are getting windy now because of the Anschluss a few days ago’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Meg said. ‘My cousin Nicholas keeps going on about that. But I don’t see it’s that much of a problem. I mean, Hitler’s Austrian, isn’t he, and the Austrian Government seemed to welcome him with open arms.’

  ‘Hardly that.’

  ‘All right then,’ Meg conceded. ‘But there was no fighting or anything.’

  ‘No,’ Joy agreed.

  ‘So Hitler’s happy and Austria must be too or they would have done something about it, so what has it got to do with us?’

  Joy shrugged. ‘I can see what you are saying, but I reckon we just might be dragged into it somehow. I mean, your Nicholas thinks there’s going to be a war, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He’s certain sure of it. He goes on about the way Germany is treating the Jews and how we can’t stand by and see it happen, but no one in their right mind wants another war.’

  Meg was right: no one did, especially those who remembered the carnage of the last one. But the papers were full of the atrocities Germany was committing against t
he Jews; even the voices of the announcers on the wireless seemed doom-laden. ‘Fascism’ was the word bandied about a lot, like the Nazi Party that Hitler led in Germany, and Meg had been quite surprised that Britain had its own Fascist party, led by a man called Oswald Mosley, who seemed to dislike the Jews as much as Hitler did.

  She didn’t really want to think too much about it, and when talking to Nicholas she tried to steer any conversation away from the subject of war. But it seemed like it was all Nicholas wanted to talk about until one day she snapped, ‘Oh, go on, Nicholas, you can clap your hands with joy at the thought of another war because you will be safe as houses away at school while others fight your battles for you.’

  ‘No, you’re wrong,’ Nicholas said. ‘If we were to go to war, I would enlist as soon as I was old enough, sooner if they’d have me.’

  ‘And what about your studies?’

  ‘What about them?’

  ‘Your mother would never stand for you leaving school.’

  ‘She would have to.’

  ‘Well, thank God we shall never have to put it to the test,’ Meg said firmly.

  On Saturday 1 October 1938, when Nicholas called in with Terry after football, Meg had the pictures in the Despatch ready to show him. ‘So much for you going on about war all the time, Nicholas Hallett,’ she said, stabbing her finger at the picture of Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain waving a piece of paper in his hand as he walked down the steps from an aeroplane.

  ‘“Peace for Our Time”.’ She read the headline out to him. ‘Peace – see, it’s what every sensible person wants. Peace, not war.’

  She knew why Nicholas had thought that there might be a war, because her father had told her that many European countries, especially those near – or sharing borders with – Germany had become uneasy after the Anschluss, especially when Hitler starting grumbling about Sudetenland.

  ‘Where is this Sudetenland?’ Meg had asked him. ‘I’ve never heard of it before.’

  ‘Well, it’s part of Czechoslovakia now,’ Charlie said. ‘It used to be part of Germany once and was taken off them after the Great War.’

  ‘Why?’ Meg asked. ‘I didn’t think you did that sort of thing to countries.’

  ‘It was like punishing Germany,’ Charlie said, and he shrugged. ‘Anyway, now Hitler wants it back because he claims most of the people there speak German and think of themselves as German, so leaders of countries, including our Neville Chamberlain, are meeting in Munich to decide what to do.’

  Meg had not wanted to think very much about politics up until then, knowing whatever government was in power did little good for ordinary people. But now, knowing some of the background, she was interested in the outcome of the meeting. However, the news was good. They’d all agreed to Hitler’s demands and given him back Sudetenland, and any problem with Germany had been averted.

  However, almost immediately things changed. Meg knew, for instance, that the Birmingham Small Arms Company had begun making guns because two men in the same street, who had been unemployed for years, got jobs there. Then her father, told her that Dunlop’s had started making different tyres for military vehicles.

  In late October she discussed these changes with Joy as they ate lunch and Joy shared her concern.

  ‘The thing that bothers me most,’ Joy said, ‘is the fact that I really doubt they would go to all this trouble just to be on the safe side? I mean, I have an uncle who’s begun work in what they call a shadow factory beside Vickers in Castle Bromwich, and they’re assembling aeroplanes.’

  ‘Aeroplanes?’ Meg repeated, and felt a flutter of trepidation. ‘It’s like my aunt sewing parachutes. Like you said, in peacetime why would we want so many parachutes, or planes either?’

  ‘Maybe Chamberlain was just playing for time,’ Joy said. ‘You know, giving us a chance to get ready.’

  A chilling shiver ran through Meg. ‘Oh, Joy, I hope you’re wrong.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Joy. ‘Two of my uncles were killed in the last war, leaving my aunts widows. Each of them left a son. They are worried to death. The Great War was supposed to be the war to end all wars; although they lost their husbands in that, they thought at least their sons wouldn’t be sent to fight.’

  ‘It doesn’t seem fair, does it?’

  ‘No it flipping doesn’t,’ Joy said. ‘And if the unthinkable happens and we do go to war, people say it won’t be a war like any other. If they bomb us like they did in Spain, what are we going to do?’

  ‘But surely they’ll find some way of protecting us if we do go to war?’

  ‘I’d like to think so,’ Joy said. ‘But maybe we’re worrying before we need to – you know, like meeting trouble halfway?’

  Meg nodded. ‘Mom always said something like that. She maintained that you should cross bridges only when you come to them.’

  ‘That’s what we will do then,’ Joy declared. ‘And we may find in the end we won’t need a bridge at all.’

  Charlie bought a wireless. He said it was best to keep abreast of things. Meg thought the plays and comedy shows were very entertaining and that nothing lifted the spirits like a bit of music, and the children always listened to Children’s Hour as they drank their cocoa before bed. However, Meg soon discovered the downside of having a wireless was the fact it often brought disturbing news. Somehow she found it far worse to hear about things spoken directly into the living room than to read about them in the newspaper. She could always put the paper aside if a certain article upset her, but she couldn’t do that so easily with the wireless, especially when her father was so interested in the news. On the evening of 10 November, with the younger children in bed, Meg and Terry were sitting with their father drinking a cup of tea and listening to a play when the commentator interrupted to tell them of a pogrom against the Jews in Munich that had begun the previous day. The attacks were carried out by storm troopers, members of Hitler Youth and other interested parties, in retaliation for the assassination of a German official in Paris at the hands of a Jewish youth.

  The commentator went on:

  It is estimated two hundred and fifty synagogues are burned and seven thousand Jewish businesses destroyed and looted. People have been thrown from their homes and many have perished while their homes have been looted. Jewish cemeteries, hospitals and schools have also suffered the same fate, and so much glass has been broken they are calling it ‘Kristallnacht’ or the ‘Night of Broken Glass’.

  Meg sat and stared, stunned, at the wireless, and Terry, she saw, was little better. Charlie reached over and snapped the wireless off as Meg cried, ‘Dad, I’ve never heard anything so horrific.’

  ‘There will be further repercussions to this, mark my words,’ Charlie said.

  ‘There needs to be,’ Meg said hotly. ‘We can’t let people be treated this way.’

  ‘No, I don’t mean that,’ Charlie said. ‘At the moment we’re letting Hitler get away with murder because everyone is afraid. I think he will impose even more sanctions on the Jews to drive the message home that the German Government doesn’t want them there, and yet some have lived there for generations and a great many fought for Germany in the Great War. They think of themselves as German.’

  ‘But where would they go – and why should they?’ Meg asked.

  ‘Because in Hitler’s Germany things are done his way, and he is a racist,’ Charlie said. ‘Already they are barred from using public transport, entering public buildings or attending school. What’s next, I ask myself.’

  Suddenly Meg got up, crossed the room, pulled the curtain back and looked out at the rain-sodden streets. She tried to imagine what it would be like if it had been they who were thrown out into the night, the house looted and destroyed, and felt a frisson of fear trickle down her spine.

  Nicholas had told her of the maltreatment that Jews in Germany were suffering and she hadn’t really listened, because she had thought that anything, however bad, happening in Germany wouldn’t affect her life in any way. Stran
gely a disembodied voice on the wireless made much more of an impact.

  Over the next few days, Meg listened to the wireless as avidly as her father. They heard that a rigid curfew had been imposed on the Jews in Germany. They were forced to repair the damage done to their homes and businesses, though they were not allowed to claim any insurance to help with the cost, and then the repaired houses were occupied by Aryans and allies of the Nazi Party, who also took over their businesses.

  It was reported that 274 synagogues had been burned and 7,500 businesses destroyed on the Night of Broken Glass and subsequent nights of violence. No details were given of the 300,000 people who had disappeared, the 91 who lay dead in the street or the 600 driven to take their own lives.

  The weeks slid one into another and Meg tried to shake off her despondent mood. None of the younger children could understand why she felt so low, and there was no need for her to frighten them with her unease about the war. Another crate arrived from America in time for Christmas, and Meg felt better about accepting the gifts now.

  After the first crate had arrived out of the blue, she’d felt she should get to know the relations that had sent them such fine and thoughtful things, and she now wrote to them regularly. She felt she had got to know them all so well: her mother’s eldest brother, Bobbie, the two younger ones, Martin and Jimmy, and her sister, Christie. She loved their replies, which were often humorous, and if she asked specific questions about her mother they never ignored them, or told her not to think about such thing like they all did in Birmingham – just as if Maeve had never existed – but would answer her questions honestly and she appreciated that.

  She even knew what they looked like now, because they had sent photographs, all of them standing with their families, looking happy and healthy, and Christie so like Maeve it gave Meg quite a jolt. She had borrowed May’s Brownie box camera to send pictures of them back and Bobbie wrote that they looked a fine bunch. Later Christie wrote asking all their sizes so Meg had guessed that they would be sending clothes. The crate contained good thick winter coats for them all, even Charlie, all beautifully made and with fleece linings. Ruth’s all-in-one this year was dark pink with lighter pink fur lining. There was also a selection of books, board games, boxes of chocolates, and a pair of silk stockings for Meg.