by Carol Rivers
“Dearest Betty, this is to let you know I am fine, but missing you enormously. I hope Margaret Kelly’s fiftieth went off well - too bad I had to miss it. Sorry, no return address just yet, but we are told one will be forthcoming soon. Ever yours, Ed.”
‘Who is Margaret Kelly?’ said Mother with a frown. ‘And why is this card postmarked London? Do you think Ed and Nicky are still in town?’
‘No, quite the opposite,’ declared Aunt Betty. ‘That’s what we are meant to think.’ She took a breath. ‘You see, Ed thought up this ingenious idea, and we created our own code before he left. Yesterday I deciphered some of it.’
Daisy clapped her hands. ‘Aunt Betty, how exciting!’
Her aunt smiled. ‘The credit goes to your uncle. But yes, it does feel rather wonderful to pit our wits against the powers that be.’
‘Well indeed, Betty, I would never have thought it of you!’ Exclaimed Mother.
Aunt Betty’s eyes lit up as she spoke. ‘The postmark is a generic one, probably collected from our men’s location and sent off en masse by the war office in London.’
‘So we shall never be able to trace where they are?’ Mother looked disappointed.
‘Don’t be too sure of that,’ replied Aunt Betty. ‘I’ve developed my own theory on Ed and Nicky’s whereabouts. Though I shan’t be certain until Ed writes again and I can confirm my deductions.’
‘Deductions?’ said Mother on a gasp. ‘Do you mean Ed and Nicky are to be sent abroad?’
‘Good gracious, no,’ said Aunt Betty. ‘The government, I am convinced, have borrowed our men for very specific missions - here, on British soil. And though we are not supposed to talk about such things, I’m sure what I have to say won’t go beyond these four walls.’
Daisy stopped eating immediately. She didn’t want to miss a word.
‘As I told you, Ed and I hatched a plan,’ said her aunt in a hushed voice.
Everyone leaned forward to hear her whispered words.
‘Ed guessed that any communication between us would be censored and any letters from him would be postmarked according to government instructions. And so we invented our own code.’
‘I wish Pops had invented one too,’ said Daisy eagerly. 'It would be so exciting if we could - ‘
‘Shh,’ said Bobby knocking her elbow. ‘You’re interrupting again.’
With great restraint Daisy didn’t retaliate which was just as well because Aunt Betty took a dog-eared map from her bag and spread it over the table.
‘We decided that any number from one to a hundred would represent the amount of miles from London to their secret location. Over one hundred and we would refer to another code, which this time, isn’t used on the postcard. Any name, be it male of female that was unfamiliar, would stand for the initials of the town nearest to this location. Does that make sense?’
‘No,’ they all said at once.
‘Good,’ said her aunt with a satisfied nod. ‘If you haven’t guessed, then our plan is pretty watertight.’
‘What does Margaret Kelly’s fiftieth have to do with your map?’ said Mother, puzzled.
‘Everything,’ said Aunt Betty with a wry smile. ‘Our men are fifty or so miles from London, as the crow flies, living in a town with the initials MK.’
Bobby sat bolt upright. ‘I get it, Aunt Betty. That’s why you’ve drawn this circle around London.’
‘Well done, Bobby,’ said their aunt, indicating the lightly pencilled orb. ‘For instance, here to the south is Hastings, fifty or so miles from us. And here, as we follow the shape of the circle is Oxford, fifty miles or so away. And here, at the top of the circle - ‘
‘Margaret Kelly!’ burst out Daisy, stabbing her finger on the map.
‘Milton Keynes!’ exclaimed Bobby. ‘Pops and Uncle Ed are in Milton Keynes?’
‘By my reckoning, yes,’ agreed their aunt. ‘We’re unlikely to be rumbled, you see, even if the card is intercepted. Ed will send his postcards or his letters and hopefully when I receive a forwarding address, I’ll respond with mine, also in code.’
‘What a whizzer!’ exclaimed Bobby, examining the map closely.
Aunt Betty grinned. ‘It’s quite simple really. Wherever our men were sent within the British Isles, it had to be north, south, east or west of London, right?’
Everyone nodded.
‘So we based our code on one set of numerals per letter or postcard. In this case, Ed wrote ‘fiftieth’ which corresponds with fifty. As for towns, following the circle, the only town with the initials of Margaret Kelly is Milton Keynes. If their destination was Hastings or Oxford then Ed would have written Harry or Olive’s fiftieth. ’
Once again Daisy clapped her hands. ‘That’s brilliant, Aunt Betty!’
‘But what if they were in, say Wales?’ asked Mother. ‘Or Scotland even?’
‘Our code for Wales is Tommy and Scotland is Susan. Irene stands for Ireland.’
Daisy slipped her arms around her aunt’s neck. ‘You’re so clever, Aunt Betty.’
‘Not at all, Daisy. It was your uncle who thought this trick up. Ed is really, well … ‘ Her aunt’s brown eyes filled with pride. ‘He’s an extraordinary man.’
This was music to Daisy’s ears. For if Aunt Betty spoke so highly of Uncle Ed, then she wouldn’t be thinking of Mr Calder.
Chapter 46
For Daisy, time passed in an almost identical pattern of scraping up debris and repeatedly cleaning surfaces, the result of nightly bombing attacks. She found herself something of a specialist in trying to defeat the muck that seeped through every crack in the roof. The second someone closed a door or walked upstairs, a shower of fine black particles fell to the floor.
Every two weeks the luxury of a bath was poured. The tub water was reused and hair was shampooed with a de-louser, since the nights spent in the shelter had proven a haven for tiny insects and fleas.
It was left to Mother to scout for provisions and make the most of their rations. Daisy couldn’t abide the long, boring queues and having to wait for the best or worst that their coupons could provide. Instead, she’d opted for the cleaning and her most dislikable duty, the laundering of their clothes. With no gas supplied to the house, the copper was useless and items had to be hand-washed in the kitchen sink and urged through the groaning mangle.
As for Bobby, after helping Mr Cook to fit a stout panel of weatherboard over Daisy’s bedroom window, he became, more or less, Mr Cook’s apprentice. A day didn’t pass without Bobby attending some kind of catastrophe in the area. ‘I carry Mr Cook’s tools and help him to mend stuff. Or sometimes I run errands for him and the other men,’ he boasted, much to Mother’s concern.
‘You must come home before the siren alert,’ Mother warned him constantly. ‘I should worry about you terribly if you were absent again all night.’
‘Mr Cook always tells me to knock off at half past three.’
Daisy giggled as she helped fill the basket for their overnight stay in the shelter. ‘What’s knock off?’
‘Time to stop,’ said Bobby. ‘Like you are my skin and blister. Skin and blister rhymes with sister, see?’ Daisy grinned as Bobby continued. ‘Mother is making the Rosy Lee and I’m carrying the blankets for Uncle Ned so we don’t get taters.’
Daisy burst out laughing. But Mother stopped pouring the tea into the flask. ‘Bobby, that’s enough now. Whatever would your father think?’
Bobby’s cheeks flared red. ‘He’s not here, so I don’t know.’
Mother looked startled. ‘Bobby, you know your father had no choice in going away.’
‘But why?’ cried Bobby furiously. ‘I’d rather have him to talk to than Mr Cook. But as I don’t, then Mr Cook will have to do.’ He sped from the kitchen and into the garden.
Mother sighed and shook her head. ‘This war is such a terrible thing for families. And the worst of it is, there’s an element of truth in what he says. Your father could have refused the government, but he felt it was his duty to cooperat
e.’
’Pops might get leave like Matt does,’ said Daisy hopefully.
‘Perhaps,’ Mother agreed vaguely.
Daisy began packing the basket again but the almost-quarrel with Bobby had left Mother downcast as they prepared for yet another night in the shelter.
It was on a chilly day in October when two letters arrived.
‘This is your father’s handwriting,’ said Mother excitedly as they sat at the kitchen table and she opened the first.
“My dears, all is well here and the days pass rapidly. So quickly in fact, that I am guilty of neglecting to write to you. However, I’ve very little news, as is to be expected, that I can announce. But I shall be very happy to receive a letter from you. Here is the address.” Mother sighed. ‘It’s just a war office department.’
‘Does he say anything about me?’ asked Bobby.
‘Only that he loves and misses us all.’
‘Is there any code?’ Daisy asked.
‘None that I can see,’ replied Mother.
‘When is he coming home?’
‘He doesn’t say.’ With a disappointed expression, Mother passed the letter to Bobby as she opened the second envelope.
‘It’s from Aunt Pat,’ Mother said as she studied the single sheet. ‘Apparently several bombs fell near the village, close enough to shatter some of the shop windows. No one was hurt but Aunt Pat sounds rather worried.’ Mother put down the letter. ‘I must find a working telephone box and speak to your aunt. I shall be back soon.’
Daisy watched her mother slip on a headscarf, then hurry out again.
‘Pops’s letter wasn’t very exciting,’ said Daisy as she followed Bobby to the larder. ‘Do you think there’s a code in it, somewhere?’
‘Don’t know,’ Bobby mumbled over his shoulder. ‘Didn’t sound like it.’
‘Are you going to help Mr Cook today?’ Daisy watched her brother set out the bread and carving knife and the last of the apple preserve.
‘No,’ Bobby replied with a shrug. ‘I’m going to see Grace.’
Daisy had almost forgotten the pretty girl from Cawdor School. But Bobby said no more and continued to eat ravenously.
Daisy considered the unappetising looking loaf. She was sure she couldn’t eat any more of the unpalatable substance that lodged in her throat. As for the mugs of dishwater tea …
‘Can I come with you?’ she asked.
‘You’d only interrupt all the time.’
‘I wouldn’t. I promise I won’t say anything.’
‘Some hopes,’ munched Bobby, licking the preserve from his lips.
‘I don’t want to be on my own,’ she confessed.
‘Mother won’t be long.’
‘She might go shopping.’
Bobby scowled. ‘The answer’s still no.’
How could Bobby be so cruel? Salty tears filled her eyes. These days she took great care never to follow him around or say anything that would upset him or do anything he disapproved of. Since his outburst with Mother, she knew Bobby was growing into a young man who was hard, if not impossible to understand.
Quietly sniffing, she left the table and went into the hall. Everywhere she looked was grimy; the wallpaper was yellowed, the carpet so ingrained with dirt there was no visible pattern. For all her efforts, she might as well not have bothered to clean.
She dragged her tired legs into the living room and sank down on the couch, amidst a cloud of dust. She could even taste it on her lips. If she crunched her teeth, it was like chewing grit. A tear of self-pity rolled down her cheek. She wiped the moisture with the ends of her hair and tried to muffle a sob.
‘You can’t come with me,’ said a voice beside her, ‘because we meet at Island Gardens as her dad doesn’t like her seeing boys.’
Daisy looked up, startled. Had Bobby really spoken to her in such a pleasant tone?
‘But I can bring Grace here if you like,’ he offered.
Daisy felt a warm glow inside her. Below Bobby’s dirt-streaked cheeks and smudged blond hair and the splash of adolescent spots on his cheeks was an exceptionally good-looking youth. He towered over her now, lean and a little awkward yet his blue eyes looked on her fondly.
‘Th … that would be nice,’ she stammered.
‘Just don’t say anything that will embarrass me, right?’
‘I won’t,’ she promised excitedly. Somewhere upstairs in the spare room, in a box, or perhaps in a cupboard were her best clothes. It wouldn’t take long to find them.
Chapter 47
‘Hello Daisy, I haven’t seen you since Cawdor.’ Followed by Bobby, Grace stepped through the kitchen door and smiled. ‘That’s a pretty skirt you’re wearing.’
Daisy thought Grace looked very pretty with her long dark hair brushed neatly over the collar of her winter’s coat. Despite all Daisy’s attempts to find a skirt or dress that wasn’t creased, everything was either crumpled, dirty or too short. She’d realised then, because she had been living in trousers for goodness knew how long, that it wasn’t only Bobby who’d grown. She had found very little to fit her and in desperation, had opted for a dark green skirt that Mother had lengthened though the original hem line still showed.
‘Did you ever find your friend Sally?’ Grace asked as she sat herself down on a kitchen chair. ‘And that other boy - you know the one you told us about? The one who got in trouble with the Blackshirts?’
Daisy was about to answer, impressed that Grace had remembered Sally and Sammy, when Bobby said quickly, ‘No, we haven’t seen them.’
Undeterred, Grace dug into her pocket and brought out a small brown bag. ‘Would you like a sweet?’
Daisy’s gaze fell on the shiny black and white confectionary.
‘Guess where I got them?’ Grace asked.
Daisy shook her head.
‘Iris and Sydney! Remember? Their dad had a confectioner’s in Poplar?’ Grace pushed the bag closer to Daisy. ‘Did you know that a bomb fell on their shop? It was terrible. There were sweets and broken jars everywhere. All the cigarettes and cigars went up in smoke.’ Grace giggled at her own joke. ‘I must admit it’s not very funny. But Iris and Sydney and their parents were safe as they had gone to the underground.’ Grace shook the bag enticingly. ‘These sweets are all chipped where the bomb exploded. See? Go on, try one.’
Daisy looked at Bobby who gave a brief nod.
‘Thank you.’ Daisy popped one on her tongue.
Grace smiled. ‘Would you like to come up to Island Gardens with us?’ she said, her tongue curling over her lips. ‘There’s an ack-ack station there now.’
Daisy was about to say she would like that very much when Bobby, standing behind Grace, shook his head.
So she managed to refuse politely, claiming she had chores to do about the house. It was the only long sentence she had uttered in Grace’s company, and Bobby seemed to approve as the look of fright on his face turned to one of relief.
She watched them leave, their hands brushing slightly. When they were out of sight, Daisy curled herself on the couch and gave her full attention to enjoying the sweet.
To think, she actually had something in her mouth that had been blown up by a bomb!
That night there was no rest at all, for the Luftwaffe rained their lethal cargo on the docks without pause. Explosions erupted in such fierce succession that no conversation was possible, words lost in the roar of the aerial attack.
‘Fortunately Wattcombe has not seen any more disasters,’ Mother said, explaining her earlier telephone call. ‘But the village seems to be directly under the path of the Luftwaffe who discharge the odd bomb or two on their way back across the Channel - ‘
An exceptionally loud explosion shook the kettle from its stand on the Primus. Then almost at once a deafening screech was followed by an earth-quaking roar.
Daisy was catapulted from her bunk to the floor and Bobby toppled beside her. As they lay there, shielding their heads with their hands, Daisy recalled Aunt Betty’s story
of the bombed-out family and her heart thudded violently.
Could it be that the shelter was next? Who would find their remains and tell Pops and Matt they were dead?
Chapter 48
Daisy sat up and stretched her arms. At some point in the night she must have crawled back on her bunk and fallen asleep. She wriggled her frozen legs over the side and whispered into the darkness, ’Mother, Bobby?’
‘I’m here,’ Mother croaked. ‘Stay where you are while I light a candle.’
Bobby moved on the upper bunk, unravelling himself slowly, his groans blurred with sleep.
‘It was the worst night so far,’ said Mother, as she lifted the candle and rose awkwardly from the armchair. ‘Are you two all right?’
Daisy stood up, shaking out the dirt from the shelter ceiling that had fallen on to her. ‘I thought we were going to die,’ she whispered and Mother’s arms went round her. Bobby joined them and they remained still, holding one another, unable to believe they’d survived.
When at last they emerged, a sulphur-smelling fog swept in.
‘Don’t breathe too deeply,’ Mother instructed.
Daisy stepped over the rubble, until the fog cleared sufficiently to reveal the outline of the house. At first, it looked as though by some miracle, the building might have remained in tact. But as she pushed open the creaking kitchen door, a curling grey funnel of smoke billowed out. A scarlet flame leapt into the air and Mother grabbed her shoulder.
‘An incendiary!’ she shrieked, pulling Daisy away.
Almost in the same instant, a dozen other smaller flames ignited and the kitchen became a cauldron of heat.
The last thing Daisy remembered was Mother screaming, an instant before an almighty blast sent her flying. A pain seared across her forehead and lifted her off her feet. It was as if she had been swept up into an invisible force, propelling everything and everyone in its path into the foggy, evil-smelling air.
