The next minute they were rolling about the floor and, reaching down, Kathy caught them both gently by the scruff of their necks and hauled them to their feet. ‘See what I mean?’ she laughed. ‘I think they lack a father’s discipline.’ And then realising what she had said she blushed to the roots of her hair as Sunday looked on with an amused twinkle in her eye. Could it be that her daughter was finally discovering this young man’s worth? She sincerely hoped so for there was nothing she longed for more than to see both of her girls happily settled before she died.
An hour later hoots of laughter sounded from the grounds of Treetops as David patiently hauled the children about the garden on the sledge and helped them to build a snowman. They embarked on a snowball fight then and for just a short, sweet time, David’s terrible memories of the war were pushed to the back of his mind.
‘Looks like someone’s enjoying themselves,’ John commented as he called in to see Sunday at the lodge later that morning.
They stood together at the kitchen window, watching the grown-ups and children playing – even Kathy had joined them now – and Sunday nodded.
‘Yes, and it’s so lovely to see Kathy smiling. I think she’s missed David more than she realised.’
He stared at her from the corner of his eye. He knew how much Sunday loved her daughters. ‘Well, don’t forget if it’s meant to be it will happen,’ he warned softly. ‘You know how stubborn Kathy can be and if she thinks you’re trying to matchmake she might clear him off again.’
Instead of being insulted Sunday laughed. ‘I know. And don’t worry, I’m quite happy to take a back seat. But have you heard anything from Giles?’
He shook his head. ‘Not since last week when he was being transferred to an airfield in Lincolnshire somewhere. Look well if it’s the same one that Livvy’s stationed at. They’ll be at each other’s throats again in no time.’
‘Actually, I don’t think they would.’ Sunday poured hot milk onto his coffee. ‘Again, with those two I have a sneaky feeling they like each other more than they’re letting on.’
‘Really?’ He held his hands out to the fire. ‘That would be a bit of a turn-up for the books wouldn’t it? What I mean is, when anything happens to me, Treetops will go to Giles and if he and Livvy got together she’d end up back where she’s always felt she belonged.’
‘Ah well, what will be will be,’ Sunday said quietly as she carried his drink to the table. ‘But now come and have this while it’s hot. And take those boots off. There’s snow melting all over my clean floor.’
With a guilty grin he did as he was told.
‘And now you can tell me what else is wrong,’ Sunday said bossily when he was seated and staring into his cup with a worried expression on his face. She knew him well enough by now to know that something was on his mind.
‘It’s young Bobby. He set off for London yesterday to check on his family and we’ve no idea where he is. I’ve reported him missing to the police, of course, but all we can do now is wait and pray that he turns up safely.’
Sunday frowned. They had all grown to be very fond of John’s little evacuees, especially Edith, and Sunday could only imagine how upset she must be.
‘Try not to worry; he’ll turn up. He’s a tough little chap,’ she said reassuringly as she gently squeezed John’s hand and they both lapsed into silence as they thought of the missing child and prayed that he was safe.
At the RAF airfield in Lincolnshire, Livvy was heading for the canteen. She had just done a ten-hour shift straight through the night and was so tired she was sure she could have fallen asleep on a clothesline. It had not been a good night. Two of their pilots had not come back. One of the pilots who had returned safely had chokily told them that he had witnessed one plane take a direct hit and go up in a ball of flames, so there was little hope the pilot had survived. The other plane had been hit in the wing and the pilot had managed to bail out as the plane spiralled to earth. Now all they could do was hope he had made it safely to the ground and managed to escape, or at worst been taken prisoner. So, all in all, Livvy was not feeling or looking her best as she entered the steamy canteen that smelled strongly of boiled cabbage and mince. There was no need to guess what they would be having for lunch today.
She was standing at the counter with a tray in her hand when someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder and, turning quickly, she found herself staring up into Giles’s handsome face. He was dressed in his flying gear and due to go out on a raid in less than an hour.
‘Small world, eh?’ he said teasingly. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’
She wondered whether she should tell him that she’d known he was there but then quickly decided against it. He would only wonder why she hadn’t sought him out.
‘Hello, Giles, how are you?’
‘Oh, you know, fine at the minute though that could change in the blink of an eye in this job, as you’re well aware. Still, we have to look on the bright side, don’t we? How are you? I hear you’re very highly regarded here.’
‘That’s nice and I’m fine thanks.’ It was hard to be rude to him when he was smiling at her like that.
Once she’d been served, he carried her tray to a table for her and without waiting to be asked he sat down to join her with his mug of tea.
‘So, you’re off out this afternoon then?’ she asked rather unnecessarily as she pushed the soggy cabbage about her plate with her fork. It really did look very unappetising.
‘Yes, Berlin today. I’m flying one of the Hurricanes for a change.’
Livvy knew that Hurricanes were heavier and not quite as nippy as the Spitfires, which meant that should they become involved in a dogfight, Giles could be at a much higher risk.
‘Then I wish you a safe, successful journey,’ she muttered.
He shrugged. ‘It should be all right. It will be dark by the time we get there and hopefully we can be in and out without the Luftwaffe even knowing.’
They stared at each other for a moment, each aware of the risk the pilots took every time they took off. Then hoping to lighten the atmosphere he asked, ‘Heard anything from home lately? Dad told me the army took the horses some time ago and I was gutted. They only left the two old nags, apparently, which is hardly surprising. They’re not really fit for much but the knacker’s yard.’
‘Ah well, at least the little ones have still got them to ride round on,’ Livvy answered sympathetically. Giles might be an arrogant so-and-so, but she was well aware of how much he had loved the horses.
‘Treetops seems an awful long way away now, doesn’t it?’ he said wistfully, and she could only nod in agreement.
After a pause, he asked, ‘When is your next day off?
Surprised at the change of subject she blinked. ‘Saturday as it happens. Why do you ask?’
‘You’ve been here longer than me and I thought you might show me something of the place. Where is the nearest civilisation to here anyway?’
‘Lincoln.’ She grinned. ‘Me and some of the girls usually get a lift in one of the jeeps and find a pub where we can have a sing-song. Most of the theatres are closed so there isn’t a lot else to do. You’re quite welcome to join us, if you like.’
He smiled but then glancing at the wall clock he hurriedly drained his mug and stood up. ‘Right, I’d best be off. Hopefully I’ll see you sometime tomorrow.’
She nodded and as he turned to leave, she suddenly said, ‘Giles …’
He turned and cocked an eyebrow, ‘Yes?’
‘Just … take care.’
He gave her a cheeky wink and then he was gone, leaving her feeling strangely uneasy and deflated. It would be many long hours until he returned from his mission and suddenly she wasn’t sleepy at all.
‘Ooh,’ Monica teased when Livvy strode into their hut shortly after. ‘Didn’t take you long to latch on to one of the dishy new pilots, did it? I had my eye on that one myself, as it happens.’
‘Actually, I already knew Giles,’ Livvy said tiredly.
‘I’ll tell you all about it sometime.’ But not now, she thought. She was far too wound up thinking of him preparing for take-off and praying that he would come back safely, although why she should care quite so much, she had no idea.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Bobby woke with a start and peeped out into the road from the shop doorway where he had slept. He was so cold that his teeth were chattering and the air, which was heavy with smoke from the hundreds of fires that were still raging, was making him cough.
It had been too dark for him to try to find his way home the night before and so he had huddled in the first shop doorway he came to and curled into a ball to try and keep warm. The food that Edith had lovingly packed for him the morning before was long gone and now as well as being cold, his stomach was grumbling with hunger. Just for a moment he wondered if he had been right to come back but he knew that he would never have settled until he knew that his ma was safe, so the best thing to do now was go and check on her and then head back to the Midlands.
The trouble was the streets all looked so different now and he wasn’t even sure he was heading in the right direction. Nothing looked as he remembered. Whole streets had been flattened and there were piles of bricks and rubbish that had once been people’s homes everywhere he looked. The sight struck fear into his heart. What if his own home was now just a pile of bricks? What if his ma had been buried underneath? Suddenly he didn’t feel quite so hungry anymore and, swallowing back the tears that had sprung to his eyes at the thought of his mother lying crushed beneath their home, he squared his shoulders and set off through the choking smoke that hung over the entire city in a thick black cloud, and when he glanced down, he saw that his clothes were already covered in a fine dusting of soot.
Fire engines were still desperately trying to put out fires, while haggard-faced men continued to work tirelessly amongst the flattened buildings to find survivors. Bobby had to climb over perilous piles of rubble to get through the streets. After what felt like hours, he at last spotted some familiar buildings and soon after he turned into the street where he had lived only to come to an abrupt halt. One side of the street was intact, apart from the fact that most of the windows had been blown out and tiles had fallen from the rooftops. But his own home was nothing more than a smoking ruin.
With his heart in his mouth Bobby silently stared ahead. Part of him didn’t want to move forward, he was afraid of what he might discover, but it was as if his legs were moving of their own volition until he was standing in front of the ruins of what had been the only home he had ever known before he had arrived at Treetops. He stood there with tears burning behind his eyes as he tried to take in what he was seeing. And then suddenly he heard a familiar voice.
‘Is that you, young Bobby?’
He turned to see Mrs Cotton, a neighbour from across the road, staring at him from her front door. She was wearing a huge flowered wrap-around pinny and had a scarf tied turban-like about her head. She was nice was Mrs Cotton. Many a time she had bathed a black eye for Bobby or Peggy after one of their father’s drunken episodes, and many a time she had taken them in and given them a meal when their ma didn’t have so much as a crust of bread in the house.
‘Y-yes it’s me, Mrs Cotton,’ Bobby answered in a shaky voice. ‘But where’s me ma and dad? … An’ Skippy?’
At that moment a little tan-coloured mongrel flew from between the woman’s legs and launched himself at Bobby with his tail wagging furiously and part of his question was answered at least.
‘Skippy were in the street when the ’ouse got bombed,’ Mrs Cotton told him. ‘Your dad must ’ave turfed ’im out an’ it were a good job an’ all. I took ’im in an’ I’ve been feedin’ ’im. But why don’t you come in’ an’ all, lad? I bet you could do wi’ a nice hot sup o’ tea an’ a bite o’ sommat to eat, per’aps?’
‘But me ma an’ da? … Where are they?’
‘Come away in now. The road is no place to talk.’ She put her plump arm about his shoulders and, without a word, led him into the house.
He immediately noticed that Mr Cotton had boarded up the broken windows and a fire was burning in the grate.
‘We’re ’aving to cook on the fire at the moment,’ Mrs Cotton told him as she pushed the kettle onto the coals. ‘All the gas pipes were blown up. Still, we’re better off than mo—’ She stopped abruptly. She could feel the boy’s eyes burning into her back and was dreading what she was going to have to tell him, poor little mite. The way she saw it he’d had a raw deal of it one way or another. Although she noted that he’d put weight on and was looking a lot healthier than when he’d been evacuated. Not surprising, she supposed, since that father of his had always spent every last penny he could get his hands on an ale.
‘M-Mrs Cotton … me ma?’ His voice came out as a squeak but again she didn’t tell him anything, instead she hurried off to fetch a loaf of grey-looking bread from the pantry and began to scrape it with margarine. It was hard to get good white flour now, as it was most things. People were having to make do with what they could get their hands on and every day she thanked God that her own children had been evacuated to the country, despite missing them every minute.
She added a dollop of jam to the bread and pushed it in front of him, while she pottered off to make the tea but suddenly he had lost his appetite as he sat and stared dumbly at it.
‘’Ow ’ave you got back ’ere anyway?’ she asked presently as she prepared two cracked mismatched cups. The explosions in the street had knocked most of her treasured china off the shelves and all she had left now was what she had managed to salvage.
He simply stared back at her from frightened eyes. After the extreme cold outside the heat in the room had made his face glow and his hands and feet were tingling painfully as the feeling returned to them, but he was oblivious to the discomfort and she realised that she would have to tell him the worst now. There was no point in putting it off any longer. She just wished that her Bert were here with her to help her, but he was out digging for survivors with the rest of the ARP wardens.
‘The thing is, son …’ She gulped and licked her lips. ‘Both your ma and your dad were in the house when the bomb dropped … I’m so sorry but they didn’t stand a chance. They were pulled out o’ the wreckage two nights ago.’
Bobby sat as if he had been turned to stone. His ma and dad gone, dead … just like that!
‘Wh-where are they now?’ he asked eventually as he rapidly blinked back scalding tears.
The kindly woman reached across to touch his hand, wishing she were a million miles away. ‘They’ll ’ave taken ’em to a morgue an’ then they’ll probably be buried in one o’ the mass graves.’
He nodded and rose from the table as she stared at him in distress. ‘But where are you goin’?’
‘Back to Peggy,’ he stated. ‘The family we’re stayin’ wi’ will be worried about me. I’ll take Skippy wi’ me, fanks for lookin’ after ’im.’
‘But, luvvie, ’ow will you get ’ome?’ She was deeply concerned now. He was far too young to be wandering about all on his own. ‘Just stay ’ere wi’ me an’ my Bert’ll get in touch wi’ ’em for you then they can come an’ fetch you. It ain’t safe for you to be ’ere on your own. We could ’ave another raid any time.’
The words had barely left her lips when the sound of the air raid siren filled the room and she groaned. ‘Dear God, not again. Come on, Bobby. We’ll go out the back into the shelter.’
He shook his head as he backed towards the door. ‘No, it’s all right. Me an’ Skippy will be fine.’ And then before she could stop him, he was gone, racing off down the road, slipping and stumbling across the scattered debris with Skippy close on his heels and there was not a thing she could do about it.
‘Bobby … Bobby, stop please!’
Her voice followed him, but he ploughed on as the tears he had held back spurted from his eyes and all the time the sky overhead grew darker with enemy planes intent on dropping their deadly car
go. The furious sound of ack-ack guns suddenly added to the noise and somewhere in the distance he heard a loud explosion. Seconds later a great black cloud rose into the sky telling him that some other unfortunate blighters had copped it. Still he ran. Occasionally someone would shout to him to get to a shelter, but Bobby ignored them. He had no idea what direction he was running in, he only knew that somehow he must leave the terrible news Mrs Cotton had told him far behind. But no matter how far he ran, he knew deep down that there was no getting away from it. And then there was the sound of another explosion, closer this time and the ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble.
‘Come on, Skippy.’ Bobby dived into the nearest shop doorway and huddled back as far as he could go with his arms about the dog. The poor thing was shaking with terror as he looked up at him from velvet-brown eyes and Bobby affectionately kissed his head.
‘It’s all right, boy,’ he soothed, although he was trembling himself. Skippy stared at him trustingly. He wasn’t the prettiest of dogs, if truth be told: his legs were short and squat and he had one ear that pointed to the sky, while the other hung flat against his head. His tail was bushy like a fox’s and his body looked out of proportion with the rest of him, but all the same Bobby loved him unconditionally and had missed him while he had been away.
‘It’s just you an’ me now,’ he muttered, wiping tears and snot from the end of his nose with the back of his sleeve. ‘Ma’s gone an’ she can’t come back.’ Strangely enough he felt no sorrow at the loss of his father. He had been a bully and Bobby was relieved that he would never have the chance to take his belt to him again … but his ma … Oh, his ma. He had loved her unreservedly and he knew that things would never be the same without her.
What would happen to him and Peggy now? he wondered. Would they be shoved into some orphanage until they were old enough to look after themselves? It was a fearful thought and he shuddered, as yet another bomb dropped dangerously close to where he was hiding. This time he could hear the sound of houses collapsing around him and breaking glass and now the air was so full of soot and smoke he could hardly breathe or see more than a few feet ahead. In the distance he could hear the sound of fire engines, for what good they could do, and men shouting, and now venturing from the doorway he urged the dog out behind him. A little further down the street, or the remains of it, he found a length of rope, which he tied round Skippy’s neck.
Time to Say Goodbye Page 20
