“Well, remember its 1942 so it’ll need to be formal, you know, old fashioned. You don’t want to scare them so just stick to the facts.
Katy began to write,
Dear Mr and Mrs Dieter,
My name is Katy Parker. I am writing to you on behalf of your son, Jan. You have probably been told he is missing in action but do not be alarmed. He is safe and well. His plane crashed into a field near to where I live, in the town of Knutsburry, Cheshire. A group of us found him sheltering in an old barn and looked after him until the authorities arrived and took him away. We were told that he will be kept as a prisoner of war at the local camp and be put to work on a nearby farm, where he will be well looked after.
Best wishes,
Katy Parker
Chapter 7
Settling In
The next couple of weeks passed by in a blur; Katy and Patrick soon settled into their new routine. Every morning, Susie woke Katy up, usually by jumping vigorously up and down on her bed. Then they all began their chores. Life in 1942 was much more regimented than either Katy or Patrick had been used to. It was a real shock to the system having to be up every morning by half six at the latest. It seemed everyone had jobs to do; even Susie had to lay the table for breakfast.
It was Katy’s job to feed the hens and collect any eggs that had been laid during the night. Susie loved the hens and had a name for each one. Whilst Katy cleaned out their coop, Susie would sing songs to them, believing this made them lay more eggs.
Just after breakfast Charlie would appear, and they all walked to school together. Once school was over, they played out on the street with a gang of kids until Mrs Graham called them in for supper. Then it was homework, a radio show and bed by half eight! Katy had found this hard to believe at first, but in a strange way had almost started to enjoy it.
‘Nit Night’ came as the biggest surprise of all. At first Katy hadn’t understood what was going on.
“Come on Katy, you’re first,” called Mrs Graham from the kitchen. Katy wandered into the kitchen expecting to be told to dry the dishes. Mrs Graham was laying a large piece of shiny, brown paper over the kitchen table.
“Sit down and lean your head over the paper.”
Katy looked confused. “But why?”
“I need to check for nits, of course. Now let’s see what we can find, shall we?”
Mrs Graham began to comb Katy’s hair carefully over the paper, as she looked for nits.
Once Katy and Patrick were safely in bed with the door shut, they shared stories about their school day.
“It was brilliant, today. Not like school at all. I worked with Charlie in the school garden, digging vegetable beds and collecting new potatoes for the kitchen. He’s sort of the head gardener for the school, the real one got called up and there was no one left to replace him. He says he dreams of cabbages,” reported Patrick, happily. He seemed to be enjoying his time in the 1940s.
“That sounds like Charlie,” said Katy smiling.
“After lunch we had Mr Anderson for English; he must be at least eighty. You won’t believe this but he actually fell asleep in class and sat snoring behind his newspaper! His glasses were perched on the end of his nose and whenever he did a particularly loud snore they almost fell off. Then he’d jerk himself awake, smile at us all, mutter, ‘Well done boys, that’s the spirit,’ and fall back to sleep! It was hilarious. We played cards and read comics all afternoon!”
Katy smiled to herself and said, “Sounds more fun than my day. We did French and Latin all morning, then needlework this afternoon. Only Hillary makes it bearable. I hope her brother Mark is going to be OK. I keep thinking about the golden memorial plaques in the hall at school.”
Patrick looked puzzled, until Katy reminded him, “You know, the ones that commemorate all the former pupils who died in the war.”
“Do you think his name is there? You can’t tell Hillary,” urged Patrick.
“That’s just it, I’ve read them loads of times but I can’t remember if his name is there or not. It makes me feel sick to think it might be. I’m glad Charlie is here. It seems safer with him around,” said Katy.
“I know, I’m glad he’s here too,” replied Patrick. “It feels like nothing really bad can happen while he’s around.”
“Do you think we should tell him? You know, about us and what’s happened?” said Katy.
Patrick thought for a while then replied, “Better leave it for a bit, see if we can really trust him. It’s a bit of a mad story for anyone to believe after all.”
Katy felt lost. What were they going to do? How would they ever make it home? They had been at Willow Dene for weeks now and there still was no clear sign of what they were supposed to be doing there or how they might get back home.
Tears welled in her eyes as it all suddenly became too much for her. “We’re never going to get out of here, Patrick. I just want to go home,” she sobbed.
Patrick was silent for a moment, staring at his sister who seemed to be falling apart at the seams. He took a deep breath. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should tell Charlie. What have we got left to lose?”
Katy looked up, puffy eyed and through her broken sobs said, “Do you think so? We’ll have to time it right.”
“Let’s wait until we know him a bit better,” said Patrick, taking over as the older sibling and comforting Katy. “Once we’ve gained his trust a bit more, we can tell him.”
“And hopefully he won’t think we’re insane,” said Katy and they smiled at each other.
With that decided, they both rolled over, exhausted, and quickly fell asleep.
* * * *
On Saturday morning, Katy stretched lazily: enjoying the extra few minutes in bed, feeling refreshed and rested after yet another good night’s sleep. It was weird but the nightmares had completely stopped. She hadn’t had a single one since their arrival in 1942. Katy shuddered at the mere thought of them. Fingers crossed, they’d gone for good.
Saturday was definitely the best day of the week in her opinion. It was the one day of the week they were allowed to sleep in till half past seven.
“You awake yet, Katy?” whispered Patrick.
“I am now,” said Katy grumpily. “I miss my lazy Saturdays, sleeping till lunchtime. But we’d better get moving or we’ll be late for the film. The queue was massive last week – it went halfway down the street! I can’t believe so many kids are at the cinema by half past nine in the morning.”
“What are we seeing? I liked that cowboy film last week,” replied Patrick.
“Frank said it’s the usual cartoons first and then it’s the new Disney film. Guess what it is? Dumbo!”
Patrick laughed out loud. “It’s weird to think it’s just been released. I didn’t know it was so old!”
“I know! Remember us all watching it that Christmas ages ago? You couldn’t stop crying,” giggled Katy.
“Shut up, it’s a sad film – you cried too,” said Patrick, picking up his pillow and throwing it at her. “And remember Katy, don’t give away the plot. You’ve got to act like it’s the first time you’ve seen it. You keep slipping up: talking about things you shouldn’t know.”
“I’ll try. What time is Charlie calling for us?”
“Just after nine so we’d better get moving!”
* * * *
After the breakfast dishes had been cleared away and the jobs done, Mrs Graham shooed them out of the house on the understanding that they would not return before one o’clock for lunch. Even with a war on, kids seemed to have more freedom in the 1940s.
Soon, Katy and Patrick had been living at Willow Dene in 1942 for almost a whole month. On their fourth Sunday evening, they once again sat up in bed, trying to figure out what they were meant to do and why they had been sent here. Patrick felt certain they would return to their future when they had completed whatever task or mission they had been sent to complete. He seemed quite confident about this and Katy discovered a newfound respect for him. He
was no longer an annoying little brother to be avoided or teased but almost like a friend. How weird to like Patrick – whatever next?
Katy felt certain the answer was staring them in the face but they couldn’t see it. What could it be?
Chapter 8
The Answer
Katy lay awake that night, desperate to figure out why they had been sent there and how they could get home. What could it possibly be? She racked her brains and stared into the darkness.
Suddenly, it was as if a bolt of lightning struck her. It was so obvious she couldn’t believe it had taken her a month to work it out. Brimming over with both excitement and fear she crept quietly out of bed, desperate to wake Patrick and share her idea. Gently shaking him by the shoulder, she whispered urgently in his ear, “Patrick, wake up, it’s important. I’ve figured this thing out once and for all.”
Patrick sat up yawning and rubbing his eyes. “This better be good, Katy. I’m tired. I was having a lovely dream,” he mumbled, still half asleep.
“It’s the bomb! That’s why we’ve been sent here. I remember Charlie saying the one and only bomb that ever fell on Knutsburry fell on 15th May, 1942! It’s obvious, isn’t it – we’re meant to stop it happening and save everyone.”
Patrick was suddenly very awake. “But how? We can’t change the course of history. We don’t know what will happen if we do.”
“What do you mean we can’t change history? Who’s going to stop us?” challenged Katy.
“I mean we shouldn’t. It’s dangerous to mess about with fixed dates in time. If we change things, we might alter the whole course of history for the worse – it’s called the butterfly effect,” said Patrick.
“You’ve been watching too much TV. Your theories are wrong Patrick – we have to change it. I’m going to save Mrs Graham and Susie. Are you going to help me or not?”
“Calm down, Katy. Think about it. No one is going to believe us if we try to warn them about the bomb. Everyone is always saying that it’s a quiet war around here, that Hitler would never bomb sleepy old Knutsburry. I don’t see how we can make a difference.”
“Today is the 12th of May. We have exactly three days to work this thing out and come up with a plan.”
Neither of them had a clue how to proceed but before Patrick could reply the door creaked open and Mrs Graham popped her head around. “Quiet you two. Katy, get back into bed and no more chatting, it’s very late. The twins have been asleep for ages. Sweet dreams and I’ll see you both bright and early in the morning.”
The urgency of the situation was confirmed first thing the next morning when the twins didn’t appear for breakfast.
Mrs Graham walked downstairs with a worried look on her face. “Keep away from the twins. They’re covered in chickenpox and feel quite poorly with it. I’ve covered them in calamine lotion to stop the itching and told them to stay in bed. You’ll have to do without their company for a couple of days, I’m afraid.”
Katy looked at Patrick. It had started – just as Charlie had described to them that day in his garden. What could they do?
Willow Dene felt unnaturally quiet without the twins crashing about and jumping out of cupboards to scare you. No tennis balls or cricket bats lay around the corner waiting to trip you up. Even the usual routine of school had been interrupted by the start of the May halfterm holidays.
They spent Monday morning doing jobs for Mrs Graham, who was expecting some new evacuees from Liverpool called Doris and Edna Burton. Katy was stunned when she heard Mrs Graham talking about the possibility of Doris and Edna being sent to Canada by boat to escape the war entirely and live with distant relatives.
“But how will they see their mum and dad?” asked Katy.
“Doris and Edna have been very unlucky. Their mum was killed a couple of weeks ago in an explosion at the munitions factory where she worked. They’ve been staying with various neighbours ever since.”
“But what about their dad?” asked Katy.
“He was killed at Dunkirk, trying to rescue soldiers from the beach. There are no living relatives left in England that can give them a proper home. That’s why they’re coming to us, just until it’s all sorted out.”
For the first time, the harsh reality of the war really hit Katy. She and Patrick had been enjoying playing at it for the last few weeks but for everyone else around them it was a grim reality.
“I’ll help out as much as I can, Mrs Graham, just let me know what I can do,” Katy whispered in reply, a sudden sadness falling over her at the thought of Doris and Edna’s misfortune.
“Well, I do have something in mind. I wasn’t going to tell you, as I wanted it to be a surprise but with the twins being ill, I’ll need an extra pair of hands. The Parish Council has arranged a special treat for evacuees and their host families.”
“Ooh, what’s going to happen?” asked Katy, excitedly.
“We’re having a party in the village hall in the afternoon,” answered Mrs Graham, “and then we’re going to the cinema to see some cartoons. There’s a lot to do, what with decorating the hall and getting together enough rations to make a cake and sandwiches. Lots of people are contributing so we should be able to put on a good spread.”
Katy and Patrick were kept busy for the next two days making bunting and banners to decorate the hall and helping out. As a result they had got no further in working out how to evacuate the cinema before the bomb fell. Sitting at one of the trestle tables in the village hall, making paper chains, they quietly discussed their options.
“Charlie said the bomb fell early in the evening, around six o’clock. We’ve got to time our plan right. But what can we do?” whispered Katy.
“Why don’t we just go to the cinema with everyone. Just before six o’clock we could create a disturbance – shouting and screaming that everyone’s got to leave because a bomb is going to fall on the cinema,” suggested Patrick.
“That won’t work. No one will believe us. They’ll just think we’re causing trouble, trying to spoil things. We’ll be the only ones made to leave the cinema,” said Katy.
“You’re probably right. We need to do it so everyone automatically starts to evacuate without questioning it,” he replied.
“But how? I keep racking my brain, but I can’t come up with anything. . . I think it’s time we talked to Charlie. I’m certain that’s what we’re meant to do. I just hope we haven’t left it too late. In the meantime, let’s try and persuade Mrs Graham not to go to the cinema – we have to at least try something.”
* * * *
On Wednesday morning, Katy and Patrick woke early, consumed by mounting dread and anxiety. They both felt sick to the pit of their stomachs with the thought of what would happen later that day.
In the kitchen, Mrs Graham was busy making up a breakfast tray for the twins with boiled-eggs and soldiers. “As soon as you’ve both had breakfast and done your chores, I want you to go back up to the village hall and help with the sandwiches and tidying up, please.”
“I want Katy to stay and play mums and dads with me,” demanded Susie. “It’s not fair; I never get to do anything good. Why can’t I come to the cinema with you?”
“I’ve already told you, Susie, the film starts too late for you. Katy will take you on Saturday morning,” replied Mrs Graham.
As planned, Patrick and Katy took the opportunity to try and dissuade Mrs Graham from going to the cinema. “Do you think it’s a good idea to take Doris and Edna to the cinema this evening? They’ll probably be tired after all their travelling and want an early night,” said Patrick.
Mrs Graham considered this briefly, then dismissed it. “Oh no, they’ll enjoy it. They need a distraction after all they’ve gone through. They can have a lie in tomorrow morning.”
It was Katy’s turn to try and change her mind. “The twins seem much worse this morning, I’m not sure you should leave them this evening. What if they need you and you’re out?”
“Stop worrying you two. Everything will
be fine. Hillary is coming round at five o’clock to babysit Susie and keep an eye on the twins. She’s more than capable of dealing with any problems. Enough of this nonsense, we still have lots to do if we’re going to be ready for the party at two o’clock.”
Katy and Patrick set off for the village hall, a feeling of impending doom hanging in the air around them. They were greeted at the door by Mrs Evans, the vicar’s wife. “I’m glad to see you two!” she exclaimed, looking rather red-faced and flustered. “There’s still so much to do. Katy you’re needed in the kitchen to help prepare the sandwiches. Patrick, Charlie is in the store room and needs help with the chairs.”
Katy made her way to the kitchen, which had become a hive of activity and noise. Someone had set up a gramophone on the serving hatch and lively old-fashioned dance music played as they all worked together in a sort of production line, trying to get things ready in time for the evacuees’ arrival. Someone passed her an apron and thrust a large bowl of hard-boiled eggs into her hands, instructing her to peel and mash them for egg and cress sandwiches.
The next couple of hours passed in a whirl of excitement as the finishing touches were put to the village hall. It was a large wooden building with windows all down one side, and a raised platform at the far end, on which amateur drama productions and music concerts took place. On the far wall hung a large portrait of the King and Queen and several Union Jack flags. A long row of wooden trestle tables had been set up down the centre of the room and they had been covered with a wide variety of different coloured tablecloths that had been donated especially for the occasion.
“You three can skedaddle now,” said Mrs Evans, “You’ll need to go home and get ready for the party. The room looks lovely – you’ve all done a great job. Make sure you’re back here in time to greet the evacuees. We want them to feel welcome.”
“Katy,” hissed Patrick urgently, “we have to tell Charlie now. We can’t put it off any longer.”
Katy felt sick with anxiety. “We’ll tell him on the walk home. . . What if he can’t help us?”
Katy Parker and the House that Cried Page 8
