‘Does that mean we can go back home, then?’ Sylvia asked him. ‘I thought they were supposed to sound the all clear?’
‘I’m sure they will eventually. It’s probably taking them a while to realise what’s happened. Hopefully next time everyone will know what the alarm noise means,’ Lawrence Boardman said. He tilted his helmet and scratched his head. ‘We can’t afford people thinking we’re crying wolf.’
‘I’m glad to see the Germans weren’t so quick off the mark as I thought,’ Arthur muttered. ‘Let’s hope we don’t hear from them again for a long while,’ and he slowly made his way back up to the garden.
Most of the shopkeepers on the Parade were already finding various items of their stock were in short supply and many food items in particular were becoming difficult to replace. The threat of rationing of items other than petrol, the first thing to be rationed, was becoming real.
Vicky was one of the few shopkeepers who could boast an increasing turnover as the number of letters, parcels, and small packages, and even telegrams, was growing exponentially as the number of men, and women, in the armed forces grew.
Even Arthur had taken up letter-writing regularly, replying to his soldier son, and he was always pleased to see another letter from Henry – although the news was usually scant – but it did help to keep him informed about the progress of the war and the posting of his son.
Arthur kept a close eye and ear on the news, avidly listening to the wireless and reading several newspapers each day, although at the beginning nothing much seemed to be happening and people didn’t believe it was real. He was surprised, therefore, to hear from Henry that his outfit was likely to be shipped overseas soon as part of the British Expeditionary Force but he was upset to see that when he passed the news on to Vicky she actually flinched at the mention of her brother’s name.
‘Where exactly will he be going?’ Vicky asked. The angry way she and Henry had parted was never far from her mind.
‘He can’t give us any further details other than “the continent” or the censor will black it out,’ Arthur said. ‘There’s enough of his original letter missing as it is. But even from the little he’s said about the organisation of the troops, I wouldn’t be surprised if Roger gets shipped out soon too.’
Vicky started. It sounded odd to hear Roger’s name like that in relation to the war. She hadn’t heard from him, nor had she talked about him, since that dreadful night after the fishing trip. Now, as her father said his name, it was as if a lead weight had descended on her shoulders and she shivered as though someone had walked over her grave.
Since the war had begun, she had tried not to think about him, but the idea that he could be sent abroad without her knowing troubled her deeply and she was sorry that she had told him not to write. She had heard that he had completed his preliminary training course because several of her customers had news of him if she was within close enough distance to overhear. But her father’s suggestion that he could be shipped off abroad without her knowledge had suddenly struck her hard and she spent the rest of the day feeling irritable and out of sorts.
Chapter 25
After Trevor’s downfall, as Rosie insisted on calling that fateful afternoon when she and her friends had done their best to humiliate him, she and Claire began to spend more time together. The pair were still squashed rather uncomfortably into Rosie’s bed in Rosie’s not-nearly-big-enough bedroom, but by the time war broke out they were no longer at loggerheads. More than that, they were the closest they had ever been to becoming good friends.
‘I don’t think I ever did thank you properly for your part in saving me from Trevor – or should I say saving me from myself, more like,’ Rosie said when they were both sitting up in bed reading one night. Rosie liked to take the latest women’s magazines to bed with her. She would spend time checking out the latest make-up and fashion, seeing what tips were recommended for making-do and making the most of her existing wardrobe. Rosie, on the other hand, preferred to read one of the day’s newspapers while she struggled to make sense of Britain’s war-footing in relation to the situation in Europe.
‘There’s no need for thanks,’ Claire said. ‘I knew you’d listen to reason once you heard what Stella had to say.’
‘If I hadn’t been so pig-headed in the first place and had listened to Penny earlier I could have saved us all a lot of trouble,’ Rosie said, putting down her magazine.
‘Yes, but somehow life isn’t like that,’ Claire said and laughed. ‘Do you think your mum guessed any of what went on?’
‘If she did, she was wise enough never to say anything.’
‘But she didn’t seem too upset when you told her you weren’t seeing Trevor anymore.’
‘I suppose that sometimes she can be more perceptive than I give her credit for,’ Rosie said.
‘And I imagine she must be preoccupied with her own worries. She must feel sad, missing your dad.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ Rosie giggled. ‘I can never be sure how they feel about each other.
‘But it must be hard with him being so far away at sea. Does he write?’
‘I don’t know about Mum, but he has written to me, yes. And I’ve written back to him, though I didn’t tell him about Trevor. I don’t even know if they can get letters at sea.’ She thought for a moment. ‘You know, in a strange way I miss him. Somehow I can’t quite picture him on board a ship. But how about you? I know it’s taken quite a while for you to settle, no thanks to me, and I’m sure you still miss your family, but are you enjoying it here, now?’
‘Yes, thanks. I think you can safely say that I’ve finally settled in.’ Claire grinned.
‘I have to apologise that I wasn’t very nice to you when you first came,’ Rosie said, ‘but if that business with Trevor has taught me anything, it’s that friends and family are even more important than I thought they were.’ She stopped and looked at Claire. ‘And I hope we can stay friends even after you’ve gone back home.’ She sat musing for a moment. ‘I think Trevor did the best thing, leaving the munitions factory, don’t you? Once the story spread it seems there were a lot of girls who’d had a hard time with him. He seems to have made a pass at every girl he met. They could certainly have made life difficult for him.’
‘Thank goodness they felt as we did once they realised how he had used them, or it could have been awkward,’ Claire said.
‘Nobody likes someone taking advantage,’ Rosie said. ‘By the way, did I tell you the latest? The news is that he’s signed up. After boasting that he would never be called up because his job was too precious, I believe he’s now going to be some sort of mechanic in the army. I think that should suit him well,’ Rosie said.
‘And men in uniform never seem to have any problems finding girls,’ Claire said with an ironic laugh. ‘That bit will certainly suit him well.’
‘My only hope is that the men he’s with will cut him down to size,’ Rosie said.
‘At least all the young girls in this neighbourhood have been forewarned; I think he’d have trouble showing his face round here again,’ Claire added and they both laughed.
Rosie picked up her magazine again and leafed through it, pausing at the knitting patterns then quickly turning the page. She needed to talk to Claire and she wasn’t sure why she was finding it so difficult but she couldn’t put it off any longer. She took a deep breath.
‘I’ve decided I’m not going to work at the munitions factory anymore either,’ Rosie plunged in.
Claire put down her paper and stared at her. ‘You never said. How long have you been thinking about that?’
‘A while, really, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do anything about it.’
‘Does your mother know?’
‘I’ve hinted at it but I haven’t told her for sure, though I doubt she’ll be surprised.’
‘What’s brought this on, particularly now that Trevor’s gone? I should have thought things should be more bearable there.’
&nb
sp; ‘Hard to say what made me come to the final decision. I like the money – who wouldn’t? Particularly after working at the mill. But if I’m honest, I never did take to the work and I’ve known that from day one.’
‘What are you going to do instead?’ Claire asked.
‘I don’t know yet. I thought I might help you in the shop,’ she said, raising her brows and grinning as she gave Claire a sideways glance. Then she patted her hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’m only joking,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, though I know my mum would like it. But it’s definitely not for me.’
‘What are you thinking about? You’ve got to have some sort of job,’ Claire said.
‘Of course I have, and that’s what I’ve been driving myself nuts about. If I’m honest, what I really want – don’t laugh – is to do something more directly connected to the war effort.’
‘What’s more connected with the war effort than making gun parts and ammunition?’ Claire laughed but Rosie took no notice.
‘I feel I’d like to be involved in some more personal way,’ she said.
‘You don’t mean to join the services, do you?’ Claire sounded shocked.
‘No! That’s going a bit far. I’m sure there’s lots of other ways I could be gainfully employed.’
‘Such as?’
‘Do you know Violet Pegg, the schoolteacher?’
‘I’ve met her once or twice in the Post Office,’ Claire said.
‘Well, she and her mum have taken in a couple of evacuees, two kids from the Kindertransport scheme who managed to get on the last train out of Poland.’
‘Oh yes, I’ve heard about them,’ Claire said, ‘and of course I’ve read about the whole rescue operation. It’s been going on for some months and it was quite amazing. They put on special trains to get as many kids as possible out of some of the danger zones.’
‘They’re Jewish kids who’ve been rescued, I believe,’ Rosie said, ‘and all kinds of people in England have offered them a home, but you probably know that?’
Claire nodded. Then she frowned. ‘But you’re not thinking of taking in a child, are you?’
Rosie smiled. ‘No, but there’s one thing I have talked to Mum about and that’s about my religion.’ She paused. ‘I’ve decided it’s time I owned up to being Jewish.’
Claire’s brows shot up. ‘Really?’ she said. ‘That’s wonderful news,’ and suddenly her eyes misted.
‘Maybe Trevor did me a favour,’ Rosie said. ‘I’ve no idea how he found out but that doesn’t matter now, does it? The point is that it’s helped to put things in a different light.’
Claire dabbed at her eyes. ‘I can’t tell you why, but I’m really pleased,’ she said.
‘Mum agreed with me and she said she’s prepared to be open and honest now too, and to tell everyone about her background and the fact that she’s Jewish.’
‘How do you think your dad will feel about that? Claire ventured.
‘Mum said it’s not a problem because my dad’s always known and never been bothered.’
‘Can I ask, why the sudden change of heart?’ Claire almost whispered.
‘It’s not easy to hide when you keep hearing so much about Jews being persecuted,’ Rosie said not looking at her cousin. ‘I reckon we’re very lucky in Britain and I feel I need to stand up and be counted.’
‘Then I’m glad.’ Claire smiled. ‘And that makes it easier for me to talk about the fact that I’m Jewish too.’
‘Anyway,’ Rosie continued, ‘I’ve talked to Violet about everything and she says there’s plenty of children in the Manchester area who need help, not just with the provision of a home. And not only Jewish kids, but kids who’ve been evacuated into the countryside who need support for one reason or another. She wants to try and help them, starting with the two she’s already offered a home to, and what I would really like to do is to help her in some way.’
‘Doing what?’ Claire was surprised and really interested to know more about her cousin’s change of direction.
‘Not sure yet, but as you know, kids who’ve been evacuated need help settling.’ She grinned at her cousin. ‘And it doesn’t matter whether they come from Europe or from some remote part of Britain.’
‘Like London, you mean?’ Claire joked, but now Rosie looked serious.
‘I suppose it doesn’t matter where you come from; anyone would need help coming to terms with the fact that they may not ever see their families again. I can’t begin to imagine how that must feel.’
‘No, you’re right,’ Claire said. ‘It was hard enough coming from London. My parents are still there and we are in touch regularly and there’s every likelihood I’ll see them again before too long.’
‘Violet thinks there’s a lot that we can do for these kids and I’m sure she’s right. I believe there are societies and charities and the like, mostly in London at the moment, though I’m sure there are some in the north as well. She’s thinking that maybe we could start some branch offices up here within an established organisation to help some of those who’ve moved north. I believe there are more kids who’ve become detached from their families than people realise and I can only see it getting worse as the war goes on.’
‘It does sound like a worthy cause,’ Claire said.
‘I think so,’ Rosie agreed. ‘Particularly since I can now appreciate what a difference help and support from true friends can make.’ She reached over and squeezed Claire’s hand. ‘And I intend to try, though I know I’ve got a lot to learn.’
Chapter 26
January 1940
After war had been declared, it felt as if time was standing still, although Vicky never ceased to marvel at how there always seemed to be so much to do. The war itself did not appear to be moving and, after almost four months, it was being dubbed as ‘the phoney war’. Christmas had come and gone and the battlefront was still notably quiet, but promises that the conflict would soon be over had long since been forgotten. What did seem remarkable was how easily the villagers of Greenhill settled into their new routines and accepted the new rules they were now expected to live by.
‘Aye, it’s surprising what you can get used to,’ Arthur Parrott said, patting his wheezy chest. ‘You begin to take things for granted without thinking. Maybe it will all be over without ever really getting started.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ Vicky said.
‘I don’t know about believing, but I’m certainly hoping,’ Arthur said, going into another coughing spasm.
But in the new year things suddenly began to change.
It was Arthur’s job to sort the mail first thing on a Monday morning, ready for the delivery boys to distribute on their bikes. On this particular Monday, Vicky noticed he kept one letter aside that he later handed to Ruby. Not wanting to pry, Vicky made no comment on this rather unusual behaviour but later that day, when she found the torn envelope in the wastepaper basket, her curiosity was aroused and she couldn’t resist picking it out to look at it. There was no return address but, with a jolt, she thought that she recognised the handwriting. She stood staring at it for several minutes, turning it over in her hand. She wanted to say something, though she didn’t know what, but as the afternoon wore on, Ruby’s demeanour seemed to change until she was no longer her bright and chirpy self but was short and irritable with customers.
Vicky was doing her best to ignore it when, without warning, Ruby suddenly burst into tears and rushed through the back door of the shop that led to the living room. Vicky was startled but made no attempt to follow her and she waited until the last customer had gone before she finally went behind the scenes. She found her father sitting alone at the kitchen table, reading one of the morning papers and sucking hard on his empty pipe.
‘What’s up wi’ lass?’ he said when Vicky appeared. ‘She rushed straight through like a train and out t’ lavvie as though a ghost were chasing her. I didn’t know she could move that fast with that thing on her leg.’
‘To be honest, I’m not sure what’s up with her, Dad. Though I hope I’m about to find out.’
‘What did you put in them sandwiches at dinnertime?’ He chuckled.
Vicky ignored him. ‘Any idea who her letter was from?’ She tried to sound casual. ‘That’s far more likely to be the cause of the problem.’
Arthur frowned. ‘I thought at first it might have been from our Henry,’ he said.
‘Henry? What would he be doing writing to Ruby?’ Vicky was sceptical. ‘They’ve not been corresponding, have they?’
‘Not as far as I know, but it was definitely a military type of envelope.’
Vicky boiled the kettle and brewed a fresh pot of tea and when Ruby reappeared she handed her a cup without a word. At that moment, the shop bell tinkled. To her surprise, her father stood up.
‘I’ll take a turn,’ he said, ‘so you ladies can finish your tea in peace.’ And as he turned away he winked in Vicky’s direction.
When he had gone, Vicky patted the chair next to her, indicating that Ruby should sit down. She had been thinking about the letter, about the handwriting she thought she knew, and a sudden insight had clicked into place as a brief thought had flashed through her mind. Now her hands suddenly felt clammy as she tried desperately to work out what she might say. She sat back in her chair and decided to plunge straight in.
‘You’ve a soft spot for Dr Buckley, haven’t you?’ Vicky said quietly. ‘You must have been upset when he went away?’
Ruby looked up, surprised, tears instantly welling. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘Maybe not to everybody, so you don’t need to worry,’ Vicky assured her.
‘I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,’ Ruby said.
‘And what idea’s that?’ Vicky said.
‘That I’m a stupid kid with a childish crush, or anything like that.’ She paused. ‘The thing is that I do like him. I like him a lot.’ She looked up and tears were streaming down her face. Vicky’s heart went out to her, though she wasn’t sure how to respond. But Ruby wasn’t listening anyway. ‘I more than like him,’ she sobbed. ‘I love him.’
The Postmistress Page 22
