by Carol Rivers
“The success of our airforce in the battle for Britain in deterring enemy bombers is attributed to a radio device invented by our scientists. Capable of detecting the presence of enemy aircraft at a distance of seventy-five miles, our fighters become airborne long before the Luftwaffe appears.”
‘We’ve done it!’ Pops exclaimed. ‘We’ve actually done it!’
‘Who did what Pops?’ Daisy enquired.
‘I can’t say exactly, but this is wonderful news.’ He went to Mother and embraced her. ‘I was certain it would happen. And it has.’
‘Yes, Nicky, you were right,’ Mother agreed quietly. ‘I’m very proud of you.’ She tucked her handkerchief into her sleeve. Daisy saw her square her shoulders and smile in a sad way. ‘You had better tell the children and Amelia. At least, tell us what you can.’
Pops nodded, still clutching Mother’s hands.
Daisy’s heart beat faster. She sensed that this was to be another moment to remember as they looked expectantly at Pops.
‘There’s been a remarkable breakthrough in the war effort,’ Pops began, his voice thick with emotion. ‘I can tell you very little, only that this news is highly classified and Uncle Ed and I have been called up to the Ministry of Defence.’
Daisy frowned. ‘What does that mean?’
‘We may have to go away for a short while. The factory will be left in the capable hands of a staff committee, who will jointly govern our business in liaison with the government’s officials.’
Daisy held back her tears. Pops was leaving home. Now she knew how it really felt to be part of this dreadful, awful war, that Mrs Howard had warned her about.
Chapter 39
It was a late Sunday in August, when Pops and Uncle Ed left home. All the family including Amelia had gathered in Poplar Park Row to wish them well and wave goodbye.
‘If only my dad was a spy too,’ Will said as he idly kicked a stone against the garden fence. Daisy, together with her brother and cousin, stood waiting for the government’s cab to arrive to take Pops and Uncle Ed to their unidentified location.
‘Pops isn’t a spy,’ insisted Bobby, who was craning his neck in order to watch for aircraft.
‘He must be, if it’s top secret.’
‘Lots of things are top secret in war,’ clarified Daisy. ‘Don’t go making things up again, Will.’
‘My dad only takes photographs and that’s not secret. They’re in all the newspapers for everyone to see.’
‘Photographs are meant to be looked at,’ Bobby said impatiently.
‘If my dad was a spy and went away,’ prattled on Will, ‘I could stay up late. He always makes me go to bed early.’
‘Oh, do stop it, Will,’ Daisy said crossly.
‘I know a lot about spies,’ continued Will oblivious to Daisy’s disapproval. ‘I read a book about a spy who took a pigeon with him behind enemy lines. He hid it in his coat and tied messages to its legs. When he got caught they shot him and the bullet went through the pigeon. There were feathers everywhere.’
‘That’s silly,’ said Daisy, screwing up her nose. ’You’re telling stories again.’
‘Am not. There was blood everywhere.’
‘Will, shut up, will you?’ Bobby nodded to the front door. ‘Everyone will be out in a minute. Come on. Let’s stand at the gate.’
Very soon Aunt Minnie, Aunt Betty and Mother appeared. They were all trying to look happy, but their smiles weren’t real. Uncle Leo stood with Uncle Ed and Pops, shaking hands and saying farewell as the large black car drew up.
Daisy rushed into her father’s arms. ‘I don’t want you to go,’ she mumbled.
Pops placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘Chin up, treasure. Help Mother all you can. Promise?’
Daisy nodded. ’I promise.’
He grasped Bobby and hugged him. ‘Take care of everyone while I’m away, son.’
There was not a dry eye as the cab drove off to a secret destination. Daisy saw Aunt Betty, who now wore her WVS overcoat and badge, was tearful too. That must mean she still loved Uncle Ed.
A few days after Pops and Uncle Ed had left, there was bad news.
“This morning the Battle of Britain intensifies as Adolf Hitler threatens to raze British cities in reprisal for the RAF attacks on Berlin,’ warned the announcer on the wireless. ‘The government warns us to be vigilant and prepared for aerial onslaught.’’
‘What happened to Berlin?’ Daisy asked as they sat at breakfast.
Mother was very pale, Daisy thought. Since Pops had gone, she had seemed quiet and preoccupied. ‘Many ordinary people like us were killed.’
Bobby put down his spoon. ‘Is Matt flying?’
Mother shook her head wearily. ‘I don’t know, Bobby.’
‘Can’t we telephone?’
‘I tried the call box. That number is now unavailable.’
‘What does it mean?’
‘It means, Daisy,’ Mother said, lifting her eyes, ‘that the army and airbases are not available to the general public. Pops warned me to expect the shut down as part and parcel of our defence system.’
‘So we can’t reach Matt or Pops?’ said Bobby angrily and pushed himself up from the table. ‘It’s not fair. They’re our family. It should be different for us.’
‘Bobby, remember what Pops said. His project is top secret. And it must be kept that way.’
Bobby turned on his heel and ran out to the garden.
‘We must make allowances,’ Mother explained, ‘for your brother. Becoming the man of the house is a great responsibility. Go and be with him, Daisy. Now, more than ever he needs you.’
A little reluctantly, Daisy followed her brother outside. She didn’t know what mood she would find him in. These days, he was very unpredictable.
‘Hello,’ she said and sat beside him on the broken end of the wall.
He looked up at the sky and said nothing.
‘Have you seen any Spits yet?’
Bobby turned on her. ‘Do you always have to follow me around like a lost puppy?’
Daisy was about to insist she had only come out here at Mother’s request, when she saw he had been weeping. But boys didn’t cry, she thought, at a loss for something to say. So she just dangled her feet, studied her sandals and tapped the wall lightly with her heels.
Which seemed to suit Bobby perfectly.
The next day, Mother patted the cushion beside her and said quietly, ’Sit down, I want to talk to you both.’
Daisy sat silently with Bobby. What was about to happen?
‘I don’t want to leave London,’ said Mother. ‘I really don’t. This is our home and we cherish it. But, the time is drawing close when we must face facts. If there are air raids on the docks, I can’t see an alternative, but to evacuate.’
‘The attack might not come,’ protested Bobby. ‘Our Spits might stop them.’
‘I think that’s rather hopeful, Bobby.’
‘Matt said we’ve got the best airforce in the world,’ said Bobby proudly.
Mother smiled. ‘We have indeed got a magnificent airforce. A navy and army too. But we have been warned. And it would only be a fool who ignored those warnings.’
‘Does Pops know we might leave?’ asked Daisy tearfully.
‘Before he left I made him a promise that we would go to Wattcombe when the time came.’ Mother twisted her handkerchief between her fingers. ‘First, I must give Pops’s instructions to the factory committee. Fortunately the government assessors will conduct business in our absence.’
‘But what about Aunt Betty and Aunt Minnie? They live in London too.’ Daisy couldn’t imagine Uncle Leo abandoning his studio and all his expensive equipment. Or Aunt Betty leaving her job with the WVS.
‘I don’t know,’ said Mother on a sigh. ‘No doubt we shall hear from them soon.’
Daisy saw the dismay in Mother’s eyes and desperation in Bobby’s.
She guessed his thoughts. If they were to be evacuated, would they ever see
their friends again?
Chapter 40
It was a balmy, cloudless Saturday morning early in September, when Daisy woke to the silence of an empty house. Downstairs, she found a note from Mother saying she’d gone shopping and would Daisy please tidy round in her absence. This had become their weekly ritual. Flying a duster over the furniture, seemed to Daisy, the better part of their bargain. The chore was a lot less boring than standing for hours in endless queues, hoping for groceries that would prove to be unavailable. Besides, Mother insisted on walking everywhere. A car ride was out of the question. The Austin stood gathering cobwebs in the road, now too expensive to run.
Daisy helped herself to several slices of bread and a generous portion of jam. It was very unusual to find herself alone at breakfast on Saturday morning. Bobby would bolt his food eager to tune in to the wireless set and catch any mention of aerial activity over the city.
Daisy missed his company, even though he seemed not to care for hers. She longed to see Sally again and rekindle their friendship. Sadly, Mother had failed to find any information on the Watsons and Daisy supposed that Sally must still be evacuated.
By the time Mother returned, Daisy had finished her chores. She helped unpack the two string baskets though the variety of food was limited.
‘I found these,’ Mother said delightedly as she placed three unbelievably small eggs on a plate in the kitchen. ‘And this!’ Next came a tin of sardines, a luxury. ‘As for meat, I was late for the butcher and only managed corned beef.’
Daisy helped to stow away the contents of the baskets in the larder. She couldn’t imagine how Mother had the patience to wait for ages outside the shops at which they were registered. Last week, Mother had stood in the butcher’s queue for at least an hour and ended up with very little reward.
Quite different to life in Wattcombe she often reflected, where real cows’ milk - not powdered - was enjoyed by one and all. The farm eggs were large and juicy and the succulent cheese homemade in the dairy. In London, these luxuries, if available, went first to ladies expecting babies and others most in need.
This morning though, it was Bobby - or the lack of him - who held Mother’s full attention. ‘I barely saw your brother before I left,’ she complained. ‘He ate very little breakfast and was out of the door in a flash. I know how upset he is that we might have to leave London.’ She sank down on the kitchen chair with a deep sigh. ‘I do miss your father, you know.’
Daisy sat beside her; it wasn’t often that she’d seen her mother so low. ‘I miss him too.’
‘Of course you do.’ Mother touched her hair fondly. ‘Where are your plaits, this morning?’
‘I thought I’d do my hair differently,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m getting too old for plaits.’
‘You’re growing up so quickly.’
‘Do you think Pops will write soon?’
‘We must expect delays,’ Mother said patiently. ‘No news is good news.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Only that nothing has happened. Nothing - too bad - that is.’
This startled Daisy as she hadn’t imagined anything bad could ever happen to Matt or Pops. Matt was her hero and Pops was helping the government. How could anything bad happen to either of them?
‘Well now,’ said Mother, swiftly changing the subject, ’perhaps we could bake scones for tea and cut them into quarters to make them last.’
Daisy thought again of Grandma and Aunt Pat and the bountiful days in Wattcombe when there seemed very little rationing. Nothing ever was divided into quarters or even halves. There was always plenty to go round.
Daisy was helping to gather the fruit that had fallen from the garden trees. ‘The fly has got into our apples ,’ said Mother sadly, depositing several brown and mouldy cores in her basket. ‘But needs must.’ Cocking her head to one side, she stopped still. ‘What’s that noise?’
‘It’s the sound of aircraft.’ Daisy pointed to a vast black shadow on the horizon. ‘They aren’t our Spitfires,’ she gasped, ‘like the ones Bobby watches for.’ No sooner had she spoken than the wail of the warning siren lifted eerily into the air.
‘Quickly,’ ordered Mother. ‘Into the shelter!’ They sped across the lawn and stumbled down the steps that led to the Anderson.
The door protested with a loud screech but once inside, Mother gave it a hefty tug. ‘I shan’t draw the lock. There’s still time for your brother to come.’
The wail of the siren was soon broken by the loudest roar Daisy had ever heard. The explosion pitched them forward and into the darkness. Mother caught her hand. ‘Are you hurt?’ she gasped.
’N … no, I don’t think so.’ Daisy felt sick with fright. ‘Are we going to be killed?’
‘Of course not.’
Wave after wave of bombers flew over, causing the dust and earth to fall from the corrugated ceiling. Daisy thought it was like being buried alive. All around them was an ear-splitting clattering and shattering of glass.
When a brief lull came, it was brief. Louder and even more determined than before, the German bombers droned overhead, dropping their deadly cargo on London. Daisy thought about Berlin and how terrified the people must have felt as they too sheltered from the bombs.
‘We’re safe enough,’ whispered Mother as they sat on the edge of the bunk but Daisy doubted that the wrinkled iron roof above them would prove any protection at all.
Eventually they lay, exhausted, Mother on the chair and Daisy on the uncomfortable slats of the bunk. All through the night, the attacks continued.
‘Oh Bobby,’ breathed Mother into the darkness, ‘where can you be?’
‘He must have found safety or else he’d be home.’
‘Yes … yes, he’s a sensible boy.’
’I’m awfully thirsty.’
Mother sighed. ‘How foolish it was of me not to store some provisions in here. But there’s a little lemonade left in the basket, if I can find where I dropped it.’
To Daisy’s relief, a torch was found, the basket retrieved and the lemonade drunk. Above them, the planes criss-crossed the city, droning like angry bees.
‘I want to wee,’ Daisy confessed in the middle of the night.
‘A pail,’ Mother said, ‘is under your bunk.’
But when Daisy managed to find it, a huge bang sent her flying.
‘I’ve wet myself,’ she sobbed. ‘I hate those planes. I hate them!’
‘Hush now, Daisy,’ soothed Mother. ‘Knickers can be replaced, but broken bones can’t.’
And by the end of the night, Daisy had decided she agreed with Mother. Damp knickers were very unimportant in the scheme of things.
Chapter 41
When Daisy woke on the hard wooden slats of the bunk, the cold had eaten into every part of her body. She was frozen, from her numb fingertips right down to the tips of her toes.
Daylight broke in from the crack around the door and speckles of dust danced across the shelter.
Mother was asleep in the old armchair that Pops had squeezed in by the bench. The sour smell of dampness was choking; little beads of water ran down the walls and onto the soggy ground, seeping up into the sheet of thin linoleum.
Her first thought was for Bobby. Was he safe?
Slowly she stretched one leg. Then the other. Would her knees give way if she tried to stand up? She waited, testing them as she rose and shuffled forwards. Placing her hands on the door, she tried to open it.
The was no movement. She tried again.
‘Daisy?’ Mother stumbled to her side. ‘Are you all right?’
‘Yes, are you?’
‘I think so.’
‘The door won’t open.’
Mother pushed, but soon gave up. In the distance Daisy could hear the sound of fire engine bells and sirens. Mother cleared her throat. ‘We’re alive and that’s what matters. I only hope your brother is safe.’
When they had eaten the last few crumbs of scone, Mother stood up. ‘Let’s try the door now.�
��
They pushed and pushed, but without success.
‘We must keep calling,’ urged Mother, coughing as she inhaled the stuffy air. ‘It’s just a matter of time until someone hears us.’
They continued to shout and call, until they were both completely hoarse. It was sometime later, when she had almost given up hope that they’d be found at all, that Daisy heard a noise outside.
‘Help!’ she screamed. ‘Help, someone!’
Mother joined in. ‘Help, help!’ they shouted together. ‘We’re in the shelter!’
‘Mother? Daisy? It’s me, Bobby!’
‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Mother exclaimed in relief. ‘Bobby, where have you been?’
‘I was with Grace when the siren went,’ he shouted back. ‘I stayed in her Anderson and came home as soon as it was safe.’
‘We were so worried,’ gasped Mother, ‘but you’re here now and that’s all that matters. Can you let us out?’
‘I can’t. The bricks from the chimney and the window frame are blocking the door.’
Daisy felt her mother stiffen. ‘Is there any other damage to the house?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Bobby doubtfully. ‘There’s a kind of fog everywhere. I can’t really see.’
‘Then you must go for the warden. He’ll know what to do.’
Daisy forced back the tears. ‘Don’t be too long!’
When Bobby had gone, they sat on the bench. After so many hours trapped in the shelter there was no clean air to breathe.
‘One broken window and the fallen chimney is not a catastrophe,’ decided Mother. ‘But after last night, I’ve decided to send you and Bobby to Wattcombe. The docks are far too dangerous now.’
‘We don’t want to go without you,’ Daisy insisted.
Mother gave a little sob which she tried to disguise as a cough. ‘I’m afraid I’ve made up my mind.’
Daisy was too tired, hungry and thirsty to argue and quite desperate to sit on a proper toilet.
