Above the Bright Blue Sky

by Margaret Thornton

  ‘No, I’m afraid not, love,’ said Lily, and Maisie could see a tear forming in the corner of her eye. ‘We’re not coming with you.’

  ‘But Sid said, last night…’

  ‘Oh aye; I know what he said last night, but he’s changed his tune now, hasn’t he? I knew he would. I’ve to stay here and look after him…and Percy.’

  ‘But you can’t, Mum! Not after what’s happened. You know what he’s done to yer, an’ he’ll do it again. And Percy an’ all; he’ll be dead mad after you going for him like that…’

  ‘I wouldn’t have killed him, love. I know I felt like it…but I’d never have had the guts. I haven’t got the guts for anything, not any more. He’s knocked it all out of me.’

  ‘Then get away, Mum. Don’t take any notice of what he says. Just…go.’

  ‘How can I?’ Lily sighed. ‘He’d only come after me.’

  ‘He won’t know where you’ve gone. It’s all a big secret.’

  ‘He’d find out – you know what he’s like. No, love – I’ll have to stay put.’

  ‘Then I’m staying with you…’

  ‘Oh no, you’re not!’ Lily thumped her fist on the table. ‘That’s one thing I’m certain of. You’re going Nellie…Maisie, I mean.’ She shook her head sorrowfully. ‘I don’t want to lose you – of course I don’t – but you’ve got to give yourself a chance. There’s not a hope in hell for you if you stay here…’ She stood up. ‘Come on, now; eat your breakfast an’ we’ll get moving. I’ll make a few sandwiches for you to eat on the train…’

  An hour later Maisie and her mother with the two youngsters, bundled hastily into the pram – fed, but not yet washed or fully dressed – joined the ranks of children and parents, mostly mothers, at the school hall. Maisie was provided with a label on a string which she was told to put round her neck. Her teacher, Miss Patterdale, had already printed on it, Eleanor May Jackson (Nellie). Maisie intended, as soon as she got the chance, to cross out the name Nellie and substitute Maisie. She hoped, in passing, that Miss Patterdale had not changed her mind and decided to go with them. They had been told that she was one of the teachers remaining behind.

  The teacher also handed her a carrier bag, which Maisie immediately opened and looked inside. ‘That’s not for you,’ snapped Miss Patterdale. ‘It’s emergency rations for two days, to be given to…whoever takes charge of you when you arrive. And it has to be handed over complete, so just think on!’

  Maisie had already glimpsed a small bar of chocolate along with the tins – corned beef, pilchards and evaporated milk, she had made out at a glance – and the packet of Ryvita and carton of tea; her sharp eyes had missed nothing. There was little chance of the chocolate arriving at its destination, and she guessed all the other children would be of the same opinion. So shucks to you, Miss Patterdale! she thought.

  Eventually all the children were shepherded out, by the two teachers who were to accompany them, on to the pavement outside the school where a big double-decker bus was waiting to take them to the station. It turned out that there was not as many as had been, originally, anticipated. One or two of the mothers, indeed, changed their minds at the last minute.

  ‘She’s not going. It’s no use; I can’t do it,’ one woman was heard to utter, with tears in her eyes; and off she marched with her little girl, obviously relieved, trotting along beside her. A couple of others followed suit.

  Maisie had noticed Audrey Dennison in the school hall, being fussed over by an elderly lady; her gran, Maisie assumed, wondering fleetingly where her mother was; she did not know anything about the girl’s background except that she was rather posh. Audrey was crying, and Maisie would not have been surprised if the lady with her, whoever she was, had decided to take her home again. But no; this did not happen. Audrey tearfully boarded the bus, one of the first to do so, although there were still tears in her eyes and in the eyes of the woman waving goodbye to her.

  ‘Cheerio then, Maisie love,’ said her mother, giving her a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘Be a good girl, won’t you? Well, of course I know you will… And write as soon as you get there. Let me know where you’re staying.’

  ‘I will. ’Course I will, Mum,’ said Maisie. ‘Mum…you will be OK, won’t you? I mean…I don’t have to go.’ She could see that her mother was upset, trying desperately hard not to cry, so Maisie knew that she mustn’t do so either. Mum looked scared and bewildered too, as well she might, being left behind with Sid and Percy and those two naughty children to contend with. She had put a headscarf on, pulling it down over her forehead and across her cheek to hide the worst of the bruising, but the purplish patch was still visible and told its own story; although most folk that morning were too concerned with their own troubles to worry about other people’s.

  ‘Yes, you do have to go,’ said Lily decidedly, ‘especially now…with Percy and everything. But try to put it all to the back of your mind, love, OK? Forget about him…and have a good time in the country. I expect that’s where you’ll be going. And we’ll come and see you very soon; me and Joanie and Jimmy. Wave tara to your sister, you two…’

  The youngsters waved mechanically, Joanie shouting out, ‘Tara, Nellie…’ Then her mother quickly turned the pram around and headed for home.

  It did not take long to reach Leeds City Station. They all trooped out again, on to the forecourt of the station where Miss Mellodey, one of the teachers, counted them. ‘…forty-five, forty-six; yes, that’s right.’ Although it was hardly likely that any of them would have disappeared on the journey between Armley and the city centre. In a separate little group were the four mothers, with two toddlers apiece, plus a baby in arms, who had chosen to join the party.

  ‘Come along now, boys and girls; find a partner and follow me,’ said Miss Cousins. She led the way and Miss Mellodey went to the back of the crocodile to deal with any stragglers, followed by the mothers and babies.

  They were a motley assortment of children, ranging in age from six to eleven. Most of them were wearing navy-blue gaberdine raincoats, some stiff with newness and reaching to well below their knees, others shabby and too short for their wearers; Maisie’s was in the latter category. The boys wore serge trousers and grey woollen socks, mostly concertinaed round their ankles. Some wore their school caps and others woollen balaclava helmets, in spite of the warmth of the late summer day. Similarly, some of the girls looked hot and uncomfortable in knitted pixie hoods, but Maisie had taken hers off and shoved it in her bag. They were laden like pack-horses; not only did they have a bag or a suitcase containing their own belongings, but also the carrier bag with the supply of food, and the obligatory gas mask in its cardboard box, slung over one shoulder.

  Maisie was partnered with a girl she only knew by sight as they made their way through throngs of people, then through the barrier and on to the platform. The girl was from the top class and chose to ignore Maisie; so she kept her eye on Audrey Dennison who was two in front of her. She decided she would sit next to her on the train, if she could. There were only six of them from their particular class in the end, three boys and three girls, and she was determined not to get lumbered with Esme Clough. She had had enough of her at school, and it went without saying that you didn’t sit near the boys unless you were forced to do so.

  She stared at the busy scene that surrounded them. The station was a large one with lots of platforms and trains frequently arriving and departing. Maisie remembered coming to this station once before, when she and her mum and dad had been going on a rare visit to York. It had been busy then, she recalled, and as a little tot of about three or four she had been quite overwhelmed by the crowds, but today it was worse; jam-packed with people pushing and shoving their way through the milling throng with large suitcases, bags and haversacks. Many of them must be holidaymakers returning from a visit to the seaside or the country, maybe, back to the security of their homes before they found themselves at war. At least, this was what she heard Miss Cousins remark to her colleague.
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  ‘Yes…’ Miss Mellodey replied with a sigh. ‘I’d rather be staying at home too, but I decided I’d better do my bit and volunteer to go with the children. There’s not much left for me in Armley now Bill has joined the RAF…’

  Bill must be her boyfriend, thought Maisie. Fancy that! Somehow you never thought of teachers having boyfriends. Miss Mellodey was very pretty, though, with dark curly hair and blue eyes and a nice friendly smile. And she supposed she was not all that old either, certainly not as old as Maisie’s mum. Maisie liked her although she didn’t know her very well. She taught the younger children, seven- and eight-year-olds, but maybe in the new place, wherever it was, she might be lucky enough to get Miss Mellodey as her teacher.

  She moved away from her position near the two teachers in case they should think she was earwigging, but they did not appear to have noticed her. There were a lot of servicemen waiting on the platforms too; soldiers in khaki uniforms, and RAF men – like Miss Mellodey’s boyfriend – in blue with huge kit-bags humped over their shoulders. And the war hasn’t even started yet, mused Maisie.

  Their group was waiting near a comparatively quiet siding where a train was already standing. There was another group of children further along the platform. They looked older, but it was obvious that they were evacuees as well. They were waiting for the man in charge to tell them when they could board, Miss Cousins announced to them shortly, in her booming voice. She was the top class teacher, red-faced and horsey looking, and the younger children were somewhat in awe of her, although many of those in her class said how much they liked her. The teacher said that they didn’t need to stick closely to their partners now, as they had done when they were making their way through the station; they could move around and chat to one another, provided they did not go away from this part of the platform.

  Maisie edged nearer to Audrey Dennison who was standing on her own away from the rest of the children. She stood out from the others, too, in the way that she was dressed. Her coat was obviously her best one, what was usually termed a Sunday coat. It was maroon with a neat little black velvet collar and cuffs, and she was wearing a matching fairisle beret on her shining fair hair, knitted in shades of maroon, grey and blue, and very pretty it was too. She had black patent leather ankle-strap shoes on her feet – how Maisie had longed for a pair like that! – and white ankle socks. And her gas mask was not housed in a cardboard box, like those of the other children, but had its own posh case of blue leatherette. She looked as though she was dressed for a party, not in readiness for war.

  ‘Hello Audrey,’ said Maisie. ‘Can I come and sit with you, on the train, I mean? I’m on my own an’ all, like you are.’

  Audrey looked at her in surprise, but whether she was pleased or not Maisie could not tell because she still looked sad. She had stopped crying, but it seemed as though smiles were still a long way off. ‘Why?’ she asked. ‘Why d’you want to sit with me?’

  ‘Because…because I want to, that’s all,’ said Maisie. ‘Because…well, I like you.’

  ‘Do you?’ said Audrey. ‘Do you really, Nellie? I didn’t think you did.’

  ‘’Course I do,’ Maisie persisted. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Because…well, at school you never bother with me, do you? And some of your lot, they laugh at me and call me clever clogs and teacher’s pet an’ all that. And they say I’m posh and stuck-up.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think so…not really,’ said Maisie. ‘An’ I never say all them things about you…I thought you looked lonely, see.’

  ‘I am, a bit,’ agreed Audrey. ‘None of my special friends have come.’

  ‘Mine neither,’ said Maisie. ‘I saw you were upset when you were saying tara to that lady. Your gran, is she?’

  ‘No.’ Audrey shook her head. ‘That’s my mum.’

  ‘Gosh! Is it? But she’s dead old, i’n’t she?’ Then Maisie put her hand to her mouth as she realised what she had said. For some reason ladies didn’t like you to say they looked old; and Audrey might think she was being rude although she was only speaking the truth. ‘I mean…she’s a lot older than my mum.’ She knew that her own mum was not yet thirty, but she knew, too, that Lily looked much older because of all the heartache she suffered with Sid and Percy and the two brats.

  Audrey nodded. ‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘My mother is rather elderly. She was forty-five, you see, when I was born, so was my dad.’ Maisie did a quick calculation. Gosh! That meant that Audrey’s parents were…fifty-four! ‘They had been married for a long time before they had me,’ she added, in an old-fashioned sort of voice. ‘Mum said they had almost given up hope of ever having any children and she said that I was…a little miracle.’ She smiled, rather shyly.

  ‘Why have they made you come away then?’ asked Maisie. ‘I’d ’ve thought they’d want you to stay with ’em, being the only kid, like.’

  ‘Oh, they’re worried about me being safe,’ said Audrey. ‘They worry about all sorts of things, Nellie, you’ve no idea. They’re terribly fussy.’

  ‘But you didn’t want to come, did you?’

  ‘No, of course I didn’t…but I’m feeling a lot better now.’ Suddenly she smiled quite cheerfully. ‘Thanks for coming to talk to me, Nellie. And I’ll sit with you on the train. It’s taking them a long time, isn’t it, to let us get on?’

  ‘Hang on a minute, Audrey,’ said Maisie. ‘D’you think you could give over calling me Nellie?’

  ‘Why? It’s your name, isn’t it?’

  Maisie shook her head. ‘Not any more. That’s what me step-father calls me…and his son, Percy. An’ I hate it, just like I hate them an’ all. So I’ve decided I’m going to be Maisie from now on. That’s what me real dad used to call me, and me mam…when she remembers. Have you got a pencil in that posh bag of yours?’ As well as the other items of luggage that belonged to her, Audrey also had a nice fawn shoulder bag, the sort that grown-up ladies used, slung across her chest.

  ‘I think so,’ said Audrey. ‘What d’you want it for?’

  ‘Give it us here an’ I’ll show you.’

  Audrey undid the zip and rummaged in the bag, drawing out a lace-edged hanky, a purse, some photographs, and, from the very bottom, a newly sharpened pencil which she handed to her new friend.

  Maisie pulled the string with the offending label over her head. She scribbled out the word Nellie, completely obliterating it, and wrote Maisie underneath it in large letters. ‘There,’ she said. ‘That’s me name now. An’ here’s your pencil back.’

  Audrey giggled. ‘It’s a good job Miss Patterdale isn’t here. I bet she’d ’ve gone on calling you Nellie.’

  ‘So she would, just for spite,’ replied Maisie. ‘She didn’t like me. She liked you, though, didn’t she? ’Cause you’re clever and pretty and you always do as you’re told.’

  ‘I didn’t like her, though,’ said Audrey, with more spirit than Maisie had ever heard her use before. ‘Not one little bit…an’ I thought she was dead mean to you sometimes…Maisie. You’re just as clever as me, you know… P’raps even cleverer,’ she added with an admiring look at the girl who had befriended her and whom she was beginning to think of as a real chum. ‘And I like your new name. I think it’s much nicer than Nellie, honest I do.’

  ‘Hey up,’ said Maisie, getting hold of her arm. ‘Look at that fellow talking to the teachers. I think we might be going.’ An important looking man with a peaked cap and gold buttons on his jacket was nodding and pointing towards the train. At the same time there was a loud snort and a hiss of steam from the large engine at the front. Grey clouds of smoke were drifting back along the platform as the two teachers started to usher their charges on to the train and into separate compartments. It was a corridor train, fortunately, so they would be able to keep an eye on the children, and there were toilets, too, at each end of the train, which was handy.

  ‘Come along now, boys and girls. Quickly now…and quietly please! Don’t push; there’s plenty of room for everyone…’
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  Maisie sat in a corner near the window with her new friend next to her. There was a mother with two young children on the opposite seat, and four small boys from a different class whom the girls did not really know although they had seen them in the playground. The toddlers started at once to climb on the seats, jumping up and down. They reminded Maisie of Joanie and Jimmy and she was surprised to find herself feeling a little bit sad.

  ‘Stop it, you two! Sit down and behave yerselves!’ said their mother, but they took about as much notice of her as the two terrors at home took of Lily.

  Maisie stole a sideways glance at Audrey as the train gave an extra loud hiss and bellow, and the guard with his green flag walked past their window. And then slowly the train started to draw away from the platform. Audrey had gone all quiet and sad looking again. Maisie took told of her arm.

  ‘We’re off!’ she said. ‘I’n’t it exciting?’ Although, if she were truthful, she was feeling a tiny bit sick inside and her voice sounded all feeble and wobbly.

  Audrey nodded. ‘Yes…I s’pose so…I don’t really know…’ She gave a loud sniff and turned her head away. In a few minutes, though, during which they sat in silence, she seemed to recover herself. She opened her shoulder bag and started to search around in it again.

  ‘Mummy gave me some barley sugars,’ she said. ‘They’re very good for you when you’re travelling. Daddy always has some in the car; they stop you from feeling sick.’ She had found the paper bag which she handed to Maisie. ‘Would you like one…Maisie?’

  ‘Gosh, ta!’ said Maisie, whose taste usually ran to aniseed balls or pear drops on the odd occasions her mother bought sweets.

  Audrey then offered the bag to the lady on the opposite seat, which, Maisie knew, was the polite and proper thing to do. ‘Would you like a sweet, and your little boy and girl?’

  ‘Oh, no thanks, lovey,’ said the lady. ‘You keep ’em for yerself. But what a kind little girl you are to ask. They’re too big anyway, for Billy and Brenda. We don’t want ’em choking, do we? Although I feel like throttling them meself at times,’ she added in an undertone as the kiddies continued to roll around, this time on the floor. ‘I’ll give ’em some chocolate in a minute to keep ’em quiet.’