by Carol Rivers
‘I hope you’ll all support us,’ said Matt hurriedly, holding Amelia’s waist tight. ‘We love each other and want to be together for the rest of our lives after this bash is over. Amelia is one hundred percent behind my decision to fly.’
Daisy saw Mother put a handkerchief to her eyes. Her shoulders were shaking and Pops got up from his chair. He paused by Matt and Amelia. ‘Well done, you two,’ he said quietly. ‘Grand news.’ He took Mother’s hand and helped her to her feet. ‘Be brave, my darling,’ Daisy heard him whisper. ‘Come and congratulate this lovely couple.’
Soon there were hugs and handshakes and plenty of tears all round. The ring was examined and shown off in the light and scrutinized until Amelia looked about to faint with joy.
Daisy surreptitiously noted that Amelia never took her eyes from Matt; little wet beads glittering on her eyelashes and sparkled against the sheen of her coppery brown hair. Trailed wisps, dampened by tears, tumbled over her forehead.
A few minutes later the wireless was turned up. “I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street,” said Prime Minster Chamberlain. “The British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany.”
Daisy felt a lump swell inside her chest. There was something extraordinary about this moment. An engagement to be married, the overwhelming pride she felt for her brother and the terrifying and momentous declaration of war.
Miss Ayling’s teapot was refilled twice after the Prime Minister’s speech. Daisy was given the job of emptying the dregs in the pig bin outside, where the momentary waft of decaying food returned her with some force to hers and Bobby’s predicament. Not only had Mr Chamberlain joined Miss Bailey and the board of school governors in the certainty of war, but it was clear there would be no escape from evacuation. She and Bobby were to be carted off to Wattcombe, hidden in the depths of a countryside that didn’t have goose-necked cranes and busy docks and factories and people like Mrs Hayes to whom you could turn for every bit of vital information.
On Daisy’s last visit to the factory in summer, Mrs Hayes had remembered it was her birthday and given her a pretty card. When Daisy had related the saga of Sammy and the Blackshirts, Mrs Hayes had looked ferocious. ‘They’re rotters through and through,’ she’d cried. ‘Your poor little friend. Him and his dad must’ve been frightened out of their wits for no reason at all.’
‘Bobby said the reason was because Mr Berger was German,’ confided Daisy as she helped with the trolley. ‘Mother said it was because Sammy’s mother was a Jew. What does that mean, Mrs Hayes?’
‘It means it don’t matter what a person’s religion is, or what colour they are, or if they’ve got two left feet or none at all, a decent person don’t go behaving like them Blackshirts did.’ Mrs Hayes had puffed out her chest and adjusted her turban with some force. ‘Gawd love that poor little Sammy. And to end up with TB, well, it don’t sit right with me, it don’t.’
‘He’ll get well, won’t he? Like cousin Irene?’ Mrs Hayes had once told Daisy of the saga of her distant cousin Irene who’d beaten the dreaded TB.
‘Please God he will,’ Mrs Hayes had nodded. ‘Them doctors will see him right. They know their onions.’
‘Is it nice in a sanitarium?’
‘Not bad,’ Mrs Hayes had replied. ‘Not good either. In between I’d say. But they get you better like they did our Irene.’
‘Was Irene pretty?’
‘Told you once, it don’t all depend on looks. Our Irene looked forty when she was four and forty when she was sixty.’ The trolley had come to a shuddering halt. ‘Go up to see your dad, now, but give them offices a miss.’
Softened words that meant a great deal, Daisy had decided. For if she was to avoid the offices, then there could only be one reason for doing so. Mrs Hayes must know as much - possibly even more - than she did about Aunt Betty and Mr Calder.
Just as Mother and Aunt Minnie came into the kitchen there was a terrible shriek. ‘The siren,’ cried Mother. ‘We must be under attack!’
‘Already?’ gasped Aunt Minnie. ‘Goodness, where’s Will?’
Daisy barely recalled what happened next. Everyone began to charge here and there, with Uncle Leo bearing down on Will and Pops, Matt and Amelia, together with Uncle Ed and Aunt Betty rushing like the wind through the hall and into the kitchen.
‘To the shelter!’ Pops yelled at the top of his voice. ‘Everyone to the shelter!’
It was first time Daisy had been inside the little metal house, but it would not be the last by a long shot.
Chapter 21
‘There’s no light!’
‘There’s hardly any room!’
‘Just squeeze up. The benches aren’t finished yet.’
‘Where are the candles, Nicky?’
‘Here! Has anyone a match?’
Suddenly there were little halos of light flickering in the darkness.
‘Stay still, people. Let’s count heads. Make sure we’re all here.’
‘One, two, three … ‘
Daisy found herself kneeling on the cold, scratchy tarpaulin Pops had laid over the earth. It was not at all cosy as she had imagined the little house might be. And yet it was also thrilling. She could barely breathe for the excitement of it all.
‘The siren’s stopped, thank God!’
‘What a dreadful noise!’
‘Good thing we weren’t driving home,’ said Uncle Ed. ‘Anyone hurt in that mad scramble?’
Daisy saw all heads shake. To Daisy’s delight Aunt Betty was squeezed close to Uncle Ed with his arm firmly around her shoulders.
The candles were passed around. One went to Aunt Minnie, the other to Aunt Betty and one to Mother. Startled faces came slowly into view.
‘Do we have any gloves?’ asked Uncle Leo, from behind Will’s bobbing head. ‘Some bod in Whitehall said to put gloves in our kit, should poisonous gas be dropped.’
‘Hardly likely,’ said Pops at once. ‘We all have our gas-masks with us, don’t we? Everybody’s been issued with one along with our identity cards.’
‘Absolutely. We're supposed to take them everywhere we go.’
‘Didn’t think we need them so soon,’ confessed Aunt Minnie. ‘Ours are somewhere in the car boot I think. Or perhaps I didn’t bring them at all.’
‘Ours are in the stair cupboard,’ said Mother. ‘What a nuisance!’
‘Can anyone hear planes?’
‘Not a thing.’
‘Or the emergency services?’
‘Quite the opposite. Just a rather odd silence.’
‘I hope my family are safe,’ said Amelia in a timid voice. Daisy saw she was clinging to Matt. Her big brown eyes looked even bigger in the candle glow with their thick, dewy lashes. Deep red glints trailed in her long brown hair against the creamy smoothness of her skin. Daisy thought yet again that she hadn’t seen many girls any prettier; Amelia’s tiny nose hadn’t a freckle to spoil it. Her high cheekbones set in her heart-shaped face was like an image cut out from one of Mother’s magazines.
‘Like us, they’ll be in their shelter,’ Matt assured her.
‘Mother dreaded this day,’ Amelia whispered. ‘And now it’s come.’
‘There’s no sound of bombers,’ Pops said hopefully. ‘They may have gone in another direction.’
Daisy looked at Bobby who sat beside her on the lumpy tarpaulin. He was staring at the shiny surface of the corrugated roof. Already the condensation had formed droplets from so many people breathing in a confined space. The wood to make the bunk beds provided temporary seating together with a cupboard that was to be used for food and drink. The air was stuffy and Bobby drew his hands across his eyes, blinking at his surroundings.
‘I should ha
ve been more prepared,’ said Mother anxiously. ‘We’ll need cloths to wash these wet walls and disinfectant to prevent mould.’ She turned to Aunt Minnie. ‘When the men were digging the hole I thought, this can’t be happening. Not in our lovely garden under the fruit trees. But today it seems very real.’
‘We’ll soon get ourselves sorted out,’ consoled Pops. ‘Matt and I will soon have the place ship-shape.’
‘We haven’t even got a shelter,’ said Will, wriggling to free himself from his father’s firm grasp. ‘Only the tube.’
‘At least we’re close to the underground,’ replied Aunt Minnie. ‘But I won’t care for the awful dash there’s bound to be.’
‘We’ll share our Anderson with the couple next door, won’t we darling?’ said Uncle Ed, squeezing Aunt Betty’s shoulder.
‘Yes,’ agreed Aunt Betty, stiffly. ‘I suppose so.’
’It’s a small size, but enough for the four of us. Nice to get to know our neighbours better.’
Daisy studied Uncle Ed in the glow of the candlelight. He wore a troubled frown but was prevented from replying by the sudden wail of the all-clear siren.
It was as though no one knew quite what to do.
’What do you make of that?’ said Pops bewilderedly.
‘Most peculiar,’ agreed Uncle Leo. ‘Must have been a practice run.’
‘Let’s take a look.’ Pops took down the blanket from the door and heaved it open.
‘Daylight!’ gasped Aunt Betty, quickly unravelling herself from Uncle Ed.
‘That settles it,’ Mother decided, looking shaken as she climbed out. ‘You two are going to Grandma’s tomorrow.’
‘We don’t want to go,’ wailed Daisy. ‘It’s not fair!’
‘Daisy, don’t cause a fuss now.’
‘But the planes could easily fly over Wattcombe instead of London!’
‘No dramas Daisy,’ scolded Pops and planted a firm hand on her shoulder. ‘Your mother and I have decided.’
Chapter 22
The following morning Daisy stood with Bobby in the hall, dressed in their winter clothes.
Mother drew the tip of her pencil over the list she had made. ’Have I forgotten to pack anything?‘
‘I don’t need half as much,’ protested Daisy. Her arms ached from carrying her case downstairs. ‘We’re only staying for a short while.’
‘Better to have more than less,’ replied Mother. ‘The bus arrives in half an hour, so let’s hurry.’
‘Will the driver know the way?’ Daisy asked as they set off.
‘I’m sure he has a map.’
‘I wish Pops could see us off too.’
Mother only shrugged. ‘He has another of his important meetings. In any event, we shall be up to see you next weekend.’
Daisy knew she would miss the new friends she had made whilst playing in the streets close to home. Like Iris Brown and her brother Sidney, whose parents owned a confectionary shop in Poplar and were very generous when sharing their sweets. Her other two friends, the twins Gary and Grace Mellish, were twelve. Like Sally’s dad, their father was a dock labourer. They lived in a house near the allotments and knew all the good hiding places.
Grace and Gary and Iris and Sidney were going to a new school in Poplar away from the docks. When Daisy had asked Pops why she and Bobby couldn’t go to this school too, he had said the arrangement was not long term. To leave one school and start another only to repeat the process over again, he insisted, was not good for their education.
The bus arrived, rattling its way to the appointed stop.
‘I love you,’ said Mother, kissing them both. ‘We’ll see you very soon.’
Daisy watched Bobby climb aboard. She could see the many faces at the windows. Children of all ages, peering out, their noses squashed up to the glass. She wondered if this was the bus that Sally had caught and if so, where it might have taken her friend?
Mother urged Daisy up the step. ‘Pops sent a letter ahead. Look out for Aunt Pat.’
Daisy joined Bobby in the aisle. There was no room to sit down. Every seat was occupied. The din the evacuees were making was deafening. Daisy’s courage failed her. She made a desperate attempt to return to the door before it was closed.
‘Stand back!’ the driver ordered.
The bus began to move. It chugged and vibrated so fiercely that Daisy dropped her case and grabbed the nearest rail. She saw Mother waving and felt a lump in her chest. Mother held a handkerchief in her hand.
A sure sign that things were not as they were supposed to be.
‘How far is it to Wattcombe?’ Daisy asked her brother. She felt hot and cramped as they stood in the aisle. It didn’t take her long to realise that she didn’t want to stand for the whole of the journey. ‘I’d like to sit down.’
‘The bus is full up. We’ll have to wait until a seat is free.’
Daisy peered at the names of the streets as the bus travelled onwards. Westferry Road, Millwall Dock Road and East India Road. The endless rows of terraced houses and smoke-stained roofs gave way to larger properties of three and four floors. At Blackwall the bus stopped again for yet another intake. ‘How many more can this bus squeeze in?’
Bobby shrugged as he stood with his case between his ankles, holding on to the back of the nearest seat. Daisy did the same, though it was difficult to keep her balance as the bus jerked unsteadily along. It seemed hours before the bus eventually pulled up at a garage.
The driver shouted, ‘First stop. Anyone for Fernley village?’
Bobby grabbed his case and threw himself at the first vacant seat. Daisy landed beside him, though not without injury. She had fought off competition and scraped her heel in the process.
Another girl had snatched her hair ribbons as she passed. But this time Daisy didn’t complain. She was seated beside Bobby with her case at her feet and that was all that mattered!
Chapter 23
‘Good journey?’ asked Aunt Pat as they left the bus after what seemed an eternity to Daisy.
‘Yes thank you, Aunt Pat.’ Bobby pushed Daisy forward, whispering, ‘Don’t moan, whatever you do.’
Daisy frowned at her brother. She was exhausted and her heel was sore.
‘Whatever’s happened to your hair, Daisy?’ Aunt Pat enquired. ‘And you’re limping.’
Daisy looked down at her scuffed and wrinkled ankle sock. Bobby pushed his arm against her. She knew he would be angry if she complained.
‘Never mind, we’ve not far to go,’ said Aunt Pat brightly. ‘We’ll walk up an appetite. Grandma has baked an apple pie for tea.’
Daisy brightened. Grandma’s apple pie was always a favourite at Christmas. She even preferred it to Christmas pudding, though last Christmas of course she’d had neither, being under the weather with that dreadful flu.
They made their way into Wattcombe village, past the quaint old shops. “Jane’s Wool Patterns” and “John Carson, Butcher” and “Peggy Altwhistle’s Tea Rooms.” She remembered that if they turned down the lane by the village hall, they would come to the school.
A large hand-painted sign with wobbly writing announced the lane was blocked off. A few men, rather old and doddery walked in and out of the village hall.
‘The council are very busy,’ said Aunt Pat proudly, ‘making plans to defend our village should it be attacked. The Germans will have a surprise when they try to invade Wattcombe.’
Daisy didn’t think the Germans would ever find Wattcombe in the depths of the countryside, not if they took the long and winding bus route.
She looked up and down the street and wondered what these secret plans could be. Elderly ladies led spaniels on leads, or rather, the spaniels led them. Aged old men rode bicycles that wobbled from side to side.
‘Are we nearly there?’ Daisy asked as Aunt Pat marched ahead. Although Daisy knew Aunt Pat suffered from bad nerves, they obviously didn’t affect her long stride.
‘Not far. Don’t you remember?’
Daisy shook h
er head. Her memories of Wattcombe were vague.
She glanced at Bobby. He was very quiet, changing his case over from his left hand to his right. Daisy was convinced they had taken the wrong turning. One country lane after another unwound in front of them. Trees arched thickly overhead and the hedgerows grew thickly each side.
A tractor approached and chugged to a stop in the middle of the lane. The driver pushed back his cap and hailed Aunt Pat. They began to gossip and Daisy pulled down her sock to examine her injury. The blister was bright red and extremely sore.
Bobby sat on his case, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘It seems we’ve been walking for miles. Though I expect we shall do a lot more.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Aunt Pat and Grandma haven’t got a car. As far as I could see in the village, there weren’t any. So where ever we go it will be on foot.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that.’
‘There’s just one bus stop too.’
‘I’m hungry,’ Daisy complained. ‘More hungry than I’ve ever been before. And I’m tired. And I don’t know if the blister on my heel will burst.’
Bobby rose to his feet and lifted his case. ‘Well, you’re about to find out.’
‘Come along you two,’ beckoned Aunt Pat, stepping aside to let the tractor pass. The driver looked down and smiled at them.
‘Mr Webber said you can go to his farm to muck out the yard in the mornings. Just like you used to do,’ said Aunt Pat with a cheery smile.
‘What’s muck out?’ Daisy whispered to Bobby as they tried to keep up with Aunt Pat’s lightening pace.
‘It’s shovelling away the animals’ poo.’
Daisy tried to recollect the poo clearing, but the agony of her heel was distracting her. There seemed no chance of pausing as Aunt Pat’s bad nerves drove her healthily on at a record pace as she hurdled a style that led into a green field stretching as far as Daisy could see.
