Jenny's War

by Dickinson, Margaret

  Jenny stared at her. She didn’t believe Dot. If all those tins and bottles that had been under her bed had been stolen goods, then Arthur Osborne had done the stealing or had at least organized it.

  They stayed quietly in Jenny’s bedroom until Arthur crept in. ‘They’ve gone, but they’ve shouted through the letter box that they’ll be back. We’ll have to go, Dot. Right now.’

  For a moment Dot stared at him and then got up, muttering, ‘Why the hell I ever got myself mixed up with a wide boy, I don’t know.’

  Even amidst their anxiety, Arthur grinned and tweaked her nose. ‘Cos you can’t resist me, that’s why. An’ I’m good to yer, aren’t I?’

  But Dot wasn’t in a playful mood and she slapped his hand away. ‘I’ll not deny that.’ She glared at him as she added, ‘But I’m good to you an’ all, ain’t I?’

  He seemed about to take her in his arms but she shoved him away. ‘We’d better get going. Jen, pack yer stuff. We’re getting out.’

  Jenny bounced up and down on her bed. ‘Back to Lincolnshire? You’re taking me back to Ravensfleet?’

  Dot rounded on her, her face twisted into a sneer. ‘No, we’re not. And you can forget all about the posh folk you stayed with. They don’t want yer no more. A dirty little tyke like you. Now get dressed and put yer clothes into that suitcase they gave you. Least they were useful for something.’

  Jenny sat very still, staring after her mother as she hurried from the room.

  Arthur touched her shoulder. ‘Come on, darlin’. It’ll be all right. I’ll look after you.’

  Jenny tried to smile weakly. She knew he meant well, but it wasn’t how she thought a man should take care of his family. Doing a moonlight. It wasn’t what Miles or Charlotte or Georgie would have done. But then, she reasoned, they wouldn’t have been on the wrong side of the law in the first place.

  But just as they were about to collect their belongings together, the sirens began to wail.

  Twenty-Six

  They huddled together for the rest of the night in the Morrison shelter in the front room.

  ‘I reckon it’s stopping,’ Arthur whispered after they’d listened to wave after wave of bombers flying overhead and heard the thud of bombs falling. Luckily, nothing fell very close.

  ‘I ain’t heard the all-clear,’ Dot muttered.

  ‘We’ll have to risk it. We must be gone before the neighbours get back.’

  ‘I want to say ’bye to Bobby and Aunty Elsie,’ Jenny said, sitting up suddenly and banging her head on the top of the shelter. ‘Ouch!’

  ‘Serves yer right,’ Dot muttered. ‘And no, you can’t say goodbye to nobody. No one must know we’re going.’

  Arthur eased himself out of the confined space and stood up, turning to help Dot out. ‘Come on, Jen. Look lively.’

  ‘But they might still be bombing.’

  ‘He said,’ Dot snarled, reaching in to grab the girl’s arm, ‘come on.’

  Jenny scrambled out and headed for the stairs. She threw her best clothes – the ones that Charlotte had bought her – into the suitcase Charlotte had given her and put her precious drawing book and paints on the top. She closed the lid and, clutching Bert firmly, bumped it down the stairs.

  ‘Don’t make such a racket,’ Dot hissed. ‘We don’t want nobody hearing us.’

  In the murky early morning light of a city still under the threat of attack – still the All Clear hadn’t sounded – Arthur pushed their belongings into a van.

  When she saw it, Dot turned up her nose. ‘Where’s yer nice car?’

  ‘Done a good deal on it.’ Arthur winked at her. ‘This’ll be far more useful.’ He turned to Jenny. ‘You get in the back, darlin’. I’ve put a rug for you to sit on. And don’t make a noise if we’re stopped, will yer?’

  Shivering, Jenny scrambled in and pulled the rug around her, still clutching Bert tightly against her. She wrinkled her nose. There was a funny smell. Beside her were more boxes – Jenny presumed them to be more tinned peaches or bottles of whisky – but the smell seemed to be coming from an oddly shaped parcel wrapped in cheesecloth.

  Dot and Arthur climbed into the front of the van and Arthur started the engine. It echoed loudly in the still air and, catching the grown-ups’ tension, Jenny didn’t breathe easily until they were well away from their street and on their way north out of the city. There were two small windows in the rear doors of the van and for a while, she peered out. They passed through the bombed-out streets where disconsolate residents were already climbing over mounds of rubble attempting to salvage whatever belongings they could find. Tears prickled Jenny’s eyes. She hadn’t many belongings in the world – not that amounted to much – but she’d had to leave most of what she did possess behind. And she knew nothing would remain by the time they returned – if they ever did. Everything would have been either blown to smithereens in the bombing or taken by unscrupulous looters.

  And, with every day that passed, Jenny was beginning to understand that she was in the clutches of just such a person.

  By the time they’d left the London suburbs behind and were heading north, the day was fully light. Jenny was buffeted and bounced around in the back of the van, the petrol fumes from the dilapidated vehicle making her feel sick. And the feeling was not helped by the strange smell permeating the whole van. She wanted to knock on the thin partition between the back of the van and the front seats, but she dared not do so. She could clearly hear Arthur and her mother arguing almost as soon as they’d set out.

  ‘Slow down, Arthur.’

  ‘Got to get a move on, Dot. Can’t risk getting stopped.’

  ‘You will be, if you go at this speed in the blackout. I’m warning you, Arthur, if you don’t drive at a sensible pace, I’m out of here. And Jenny too. And then where would you be?’ Her tone had taken on a sarcastic note. ‘Without your nice little family as a cover?’

  Arthur had growled a reply that Jenny hadn’t been able to hear, but he’d slowed the pace a little.

  A little later, she banged on the partition. ‘Mum, I need to go!’

  But it was Arthur who shouted back. ‘I can’t stop yet. You’ll have to wait.’

  It wasn’t until several miles further on when Arthur considered they’d reached a safe distance from the city that he pulled in at a roadside cafe´.

  Jenny clambered out of the back, feeling bruised and battered. ‘I feel sick!’

  ‘Why I have to be saddled with a nuisance like you, I don’t know,’ Dot said irritably, feeling none too comfortable herself. ‘I should have left you in the country, then I wouldn’t be having all this palaver.’

  ‘I wish you had,’ Jenny muttered.

  ‘What did you say?’

  But Jenny didn’t answer, she was running towards the cafe´, desperate to find the toilets.

  When she came back, Dot was sitting at a table in the cafe´ watching with narrowed eyes as Arthur leaned across the counter towards a buxom waitress taking his order. Dot was glaring at them both.

  Jenny sat down at the table beside her mother and followed her gaze. ‘What’s he up to?’

  Dot sniffed. ‘You might well ask. Up to his usual tricks, I ’spect. Flirting with anything in a skirt.’

  But Arthur sauntered towards the table with a satisfied smile on his lips. ‘Done a nice bit o’ business there.’

  Dot’s frown deepened. ‘What are you on about?’

  Arthur nodded towards the van parked outside. ‘The stuff in the back of the van. I’ve managed to shift some of it for a nice bit of profit. She’s in charge while the owner’s away and she’s running short of things with all the rationing. Very glad to take some of it off me hands, you might say.’

  Jenny put on her most innocent expression. ‘What is it, Uncle Arthur?’

  ‘Oh, you know, just a side of bacon and a few tins of fruit.’

  ‘You’d have done better to hang on to it,’ Dot put in. ‘We might need it to find ourselves a place. Wherever it is we’re going
.’

  ‘Where are we going, Uncle Arthur?’

  ‘Up north somewhere.’ Arthur replied.

  ‘Can’t we go to Ravensfleet? They’d take us in, I know they—’

  Before Jenny had realized what was happening, she felt Dot’s hand strike the back of her head. ‘I’ve told you not to keep on about them. They don’t want you – they don’t want any of us – else they wouldn’t have sent you back.’

  Jenny, her eyes smarting, rubbed her head. ‘They didn’t send me back. You sent for me through the authorities.’

  ‘I did no such thing. What would I want you back for? I’d’ve left you there for ever, if I could’ve done.’

  ‘Now, now, Dot,’ Arthur chided, sticking up for the girl. To his mind, the child was no trouble and, as Dot had rightly said, she was proving to be a useful cover for him. Arthur Osborne was becoming known as a black marketer, but he was also known to be unmarried. Moving in with Dot and her kid had been a smart move on his part. At first he hadn’t wanted the child back either. He and Dot had been enjoying the high life together without the encumbrance of a child, but now she was with them, he’d realized that Jenny could be very useful to him. The police were on to him, he was sure, but they’d be looking for Arthur Osborne, the bachelor spiv, not a family man tucked away in the heart of the country. And he had other plans for Jenny too. No one would suspect the innocent-looking girl of being involved in black market racketeering.

  When he’d carried the boxes of tinned fruit and the flitch of bacon into the cafe´ from the back of the van and received a fistful of money in return, they set off again. They drove for most of the day, stopping every so often for food and to stretch their legs. It was late afternoon as they drove through Chesterfield and into the hills and dales of Derbyshire.

  ‘You got enough petrol to be coming all this way, Arfer?’

  ‘Plenty in the back in cans, Dot. An’ I’ve got coupons.’

  ‘Where’d you get them from?’

  ‘Ask no questions, darlin’.’

  Dot sniffed, but wisely changed the subject. ‘So, just where are we going, Arfer? Cos I ’aven’t got a clue where we are.’

  ‘We’ll find a nice little country pub for tonight and then tomorrow we’ll start looking for somewhere to rent.’

  They found a village pub with a room to let. ‘I’ve only one room,’ the landlord said, smiling benignly at them, ‘but t’little lass can sleep on a put-you-up.’

  ‘Oh great,’ Dot muttered under her breath but she smiled winningly at the man and simpered, ‘so kind.’

  ‘And you’ll be wanting a meal, I spect? Come far, have you?’

  Dot hesitated and glanced at Arthur. Leaving in such a hurry, they hadn’t had time to concoct a story together, or rather, she hadn’t had time to hear what the story was. He’d have one ready, she was sure. He should have been a writer, Dot thought morosely, the stories he could come up with.

  ‘We’re from London. Bombing’s terrible there.’ Arthur gave an exaggerated sigh and nodded towards Dot and Jenny. ‘And I had to get the missis and my kid out of there.’ He closed his eyes and shook his head in a fair impression of a concerned husband and father.

  The landlord eyed Arthur shrewdly. ‘Been called up, then, have you? Brought ’em to safety before you have to go?’

  Jenny held her breath, wondering how Arthur was going to get out of that. But he was pulling a wry, almost apologetic face. ‘I’ve got a heart complaint. Doesn’t show, but – ’ he patted his breast pocket and his tone took on a slightly belligerent note – ‘I’ve got the medical papers to prove it, if anyone doubts my word.’

  Jenny gaped at him. It was the first time she’d heard this.

  ‘Watch it, Jen,’ Dot hissed quietly and the girl dipped her head before her look of incredulity should give Arthur away.

  But the landlord didn’t appear to have noticed as he said in more a friendly tone, ‘Sorry to hear that. No offence intended.’

  ‘None taken, mate,’ Arthur said, all smiles again.

  They ate in a small dining room, served by the landlord’s wife. ‘Steak and kidney pie, but not a lot of steak, I’m afraid. It’s the rationing, you know.’

  ‘I’d’ve thought you’d’ve been all right in the country,’ Arthur said. ‘Plenty of food about.’

  ‘Oh we have to stick to the regulations just like anybody else. Mind you, I suppose we have better access to food that isn’t on ration.’ She laughed. ‘And there’s always ways and means to get around the rules, if you get my meaning.’

  Arthur – sitting in the country pub looking every inch the London spiv – put on his most innocent expression. ‘Really,’ he murmured, ‘we must have a little chat sometime.’

  As they finished their meal and prepared to go upstairs to the bedroom. Arthur asked the landlord casually, ‘I don’t suppose you know of anywhere to rent around here, do you?’

  ‘As a matter of fact I do. ’Tis a bit remote, mind. ’Tis in the next dale. A little cottage that was a farm labourer’s. ’Tis on a farmer’s land. Mr Fenton comes in here most evenings. Come down to the bar later on, when you’ve got the young ’un to bed, and I’ll introduce you.’

  Arthur’s gratitude was genuine. It sounded just the sort of place he was looking for. Well off the beaten track and yet in the heart of the countryside where he might be able to carry on his nefarious business. Jenny saw her mother shiver at the bleak prospect, but the girl smiled inwardly. Living on or near a farm might be almost as good as living back at the manor.

  Almost, but not quite.

  Twenty-Seven

  Jenny lay in bed listening to the rise and fall of conversation, punctuated by the occasional burst of laughter, drifting up from the bar below. She fell asleep wondering if Arthur and her mother had already met the farmer and if they’d be moving into the cottage tomorrow. She slept so soundly that she didn’t hear her mother and Arthur come to bed shortly after eleven, or Arthur’s gentle snoring through the night. She awoke suddenly as Dot shook her.

  ‘Get up. Mrs Pearson’s making breakfast. Smells good, doesn’t it? And then we’re moving into our new home.’ Dot didn’t sound exactly enthusiastic, but Jenny shot off the put-you-up bed and scrabbled for her clothes. Only minutes later, she was sitting down at the table whilst Mrs Pearson, the landlord’s wife, placed a mouth-watering breakfast of eggs, bacon and fried bread in front of her.

  ‘There you are, love. You look as if you could do with a bit of feeding up.’

  Jenny smiled her most winning smile and picked up her knife and fork. She didn’t – though the question was in her mind – ask how the landlady had come by all this delicious food. But she knew herself, after living in the countryside, that it was very different in the country to London, where they had to queue for hours to get a scrap of meat.

  After they’d all eaten, Arthur paid the landlord and listened whilst Mr Pearson, with many gesticulations, explained the way to the cottage. Obviously, last night’s negotiations with the farmer had gone well and Arthur had struck one of his famous ‘deals’. Jenny just hoped this time it was all above board.

  As they climbed into the van, Arthur laughed saying, ‘I hope that geezer never loses his arms, he’d never be able to tell anyone anything.’

  The cottage was set on a sloping hill amidst the farmer’s land, a short distance from the farmhouse and the buildings surrounding it. The front windows overlooked the dale below where, beyond the river, rows of houses nestled beside the road that wound through the valley.

  Dot wrinkled her nose. ‘This place is filthy.’

  But Arthur was undeterred; he was feeling safer already. The London police would never think of looking for Arthur Osborne, the flashy dresser, in a place like this and dressed in country clothes. ‘I’ll get our stuff out of the van. A bit of elbow grease, Dot, and the place will be like a little palace. There’s a school down there somewhere,’ he went on, speaking to Jenny now as he gestured out of the front room window, ‘we’l
l get you booked in.’

  Jenny said nothing. She hated starting a new school. Everyone stared at her and when she opened her mouth to speak, they all laughed at her accent or pretended they couldn’t understand her. That’s what had happened in Ravensfleet until Miles had set up schooling for some of the evacuees at the manor.

  ‘You needn’t bother, Arthur,’ Dot snapped, bringing Jenny’s thoughts back to the present. ‘I ain’t stopping here long in this godforsaken dump. You can find us a nice little flat in Sheffield or Manchester or somewhere—’

  To Jenny’s surprise, Arthur gripped Dot’s arm. ‘We’re staying here. ’Tain’t safe in the cities. Too many coppers about.’

  Dot stared at him, his rough handling as much of a shock to her as it was to Jenny. Dot’s eyes widened in fear as she whispered, ‘I knew we had to do a runner from home, but – but you don’t mean they’ll come after us’ – her voice rose – ‘that they’ll find us?’

  ‘Not if you do as I say, Dot, there’s a good girl. They’re looking for Arthur Osborne, bachelor. Now look . . .’ He loosened his hold on her and turned to include Jenny. He gestured towards the sofa. ‘Sit down and let’s sort this out now.’

  Still a little shaken, Dot sat down obediently and pulled Jenny down beside her. Silently, they looked up at Arthur and waited for him to explain.

  He sat in the armchair at the side of the hearth. ‘You know I’d got a bit of trouble back home and that’s why we had to leave.’

  ‘What sort of trouble?’ Jenny piped up.

  ‘Shut up, Jen,’ her mother muttered. ‘Go on, Arfer.’

  ‘It was getting a bit hot, that’s all, but we’ll be fine here. Besides,’ he grinned, ‘there’ll be richer pickings here, I reckon.’

  Jenny’s heart sank. It didn’t sound as if the scare he’d had had made Arthur want to give up his way of life. It had just prompted him to move somewhere else and start again.