Читать книгу The Evacuee Christmas - Katie King, Katie King - Страница 13

Chapter Eight

On the Saturday teatime, Peggy arrived just before they sat down to eat, with droplets of perspiration beading her top lip as she clunked her hand case down in the hallway, but luckily Ted had already got in an extra portion of fish and chips for her, as well as some raw fish scraps for somebody else.

This ‘somebody else’ was Peggy and Bill’s tabby puss Fishy, now unhappily corralled into a sturdy cat basket Barbara had borrowed from a neighbour. Fishy was frankly livid about the whole thing and she arrived at Jubilee Street making her presence felt by creating the devil of a racket, mewling loudly as she clawed at the opening to the cat basket that Peggy had lovingly placed her in.

Fishy was being evacuated too, although in nothing like as drastic a manner as Peggy and the children. She was going to be seeing the war out billeted with Ted and Barbara.

The government had requested recently that pet owners have their dogs, cats and other animals put to sleep, and the London vets had been furiously busy since the edict as their waiting rooms had been crammed with tearful owners not wanting to destroy their beloved pets but feeling they were in an impossible situation and that this was the only thing they could do.

Although it was Bill who was the real softie where cats were concerned, in recent months Peggy had become very fond of Fishy, the more so since Fishy would alternate some squeaky upper tones with deep bass purrs as on the marital bed they snuggled close together during their afternoon naps once Peggy had stopped work.

Peggy had made Ted and Barbara promise that they would do all that they could to avoid such an unnecessary end for the little tabby as she couldn’t bear the thought of putting down such a healthy animal so long before her natural time, and especially when she was such an affectionate creature as well as being an exceptionally good mouser.

‘Don’t worry, Peggy, we’ll look after ’er fer yer. An’ if anyone official asks about ’er, I’ll take ’er with me to the docks, as they always need ratters and mousers at the warehouses, and she can ’ave a fine ol’ time there as a working cat. I’ll do my best for ’er,’ Ted promised, ‘and it’ll be our way of thanking you for keepin’ an eye out for our Jessie and Connie.’

Peggy found Ted’s words very comforting.

She was worn out. Once Ted had lugged away the stuff for storage or passing on, Peggy had spent the rest of the Saturday afternoon cleaning the house that Bill and she had rented from top to bottom, making sure everything was left spick and span and so clean that any new tenant could quite literally have eaten their food straight off the floor if they were so inclined. Then Peggy had to deliver the keys back to her and Bill’s landlord before returning to collect Fishy who was basketed up and waiting on the doorstep to go to Jubilee Street, with Peggy’s packed hand case alongside.

And so by the time the Ross family was pulling up chairs to Barbara’s kitchen table on the Saturday teatime, with slices of bread already buttered and large pieces of hot battered cod and chips in newspaper waiting to be divvied up between them, Peggy was feeling tuckered out and pretty much at the end of her tether.

She was going to spend the Saturday and Sunday nights in Jessie’s bed, while across the bedroom Jessie was going to top-and-tail with his sister. Peggy urged Barbara not to bother about putting clean sheets on Jessie’s bed for her just for the two nights, but Barbara insisted and Peggy felt too exhausted to argue about it any further, and the moment she had given Fishy the fish scraps for supper she had an early night.

Fishy proved to be an excellent distraction for Connie and Jessie, who were growing increasingly fretful and tense as the enormity of what was about to happen to them – separation from all that they knew – was feeling very real now.

Ted tied some feathers to a bit of twine and showed the children how to get Fishy chasing after it. Fishy seemed to have boundless energy and was quite happy to play for a long while, the children encouraging her to run up and down the stairs with them. It proved a very good way for them all to let off steam, although possibly quite noisy for Peggy and her early night, and the result was the twins went to bed feeling a whole lot better than they had done before Fishy arrived, with the puss proving to have strong nerves after having had the chance to explore everywhere at number five.

Try as they might, Jessie and Connie couldn’t remember anyone ever sleeping over in their house, and once they were in their bedroom it felt very strange having somebody else under their roof for the night, even though of course they knew their Aunt Peggy well already.

The twins agreed, though, that it wasn’t as much fun as they had hoped it would be, as Barbara had strictly forbidden the twins from talking to each other in their bedroom, saying that Peggy needed her sleep and they were to wake her on pain of death only, and so they had to content themselves with making a great show of creeping about as they got ready to climb into bed.

They couldn’t help pressing their feet on each other’s when Fishy, now snuggled into Peggy’s back and feeling content with a full belly of the fish scraps that Ted had brought back for her, began to purr her squeaky purr more loudly than some people could snore.

In the morning, Jessie found Fishy sitting on his pillow staring intently at his face, presumably willing him to wake up.

Jessie looked back in silence at the tabby, and then carefully lifted in invitation the sheet and blanket that were covering him, to which Fishy gave Jessie a look as if to say, At last – I was really wondering what I was going to have to do to make you understand The Rules! as she sidled off the pillow and past his face to sneak under the bedclothes to nestle in a furry curl against Jessie’s ribcage, before they both fell asleep once more.

Just as Jessie drifted off he thought that it was like having a small and very comforting hot-water bottle pressed close to his chest.

In fact, everyone was still so all-in that by the time Monday morning came around every single person at number five Jubilee Street overslept. Such a thing had never happened before.

‘Barbara. Barbara! ’Ave you seen the time?’ said Ted in a muffled, dozy voice. The sun was already quite a way up, and the birds’ dawn chorus had quietened down to little more than an occasional chirp.

It was the clink of the glass milk bottles being delivered and the sound of the muffled feet of the horse pulling the milk cart that had roused Ted from his sound sleep.

His wife had been snoozing very deeply and clearly she hadn’t fully come to as she inched closer to Ted under the protective arm he had over her.

Ted thought about putting the war on hold and letting them all sleep in; it was very tempting.

But then he realised that if he allowed that to happen, Barbara would never forgive him, and so he whispered, ‘Barbara, it’s getting on – it’s not far off seven thirty.’

Seven thirty! A whole hour later than when Barbara had planned she would get up.

With a start of comical proportions, Barbara catapulted herself out of bed and ran from the room to bang loudly on the other bedroom door. ‘We’re late. WE’RE LATE!!’ she shouted.

Fishy was terrified by the unexpected cacophony in a still-strange environment, and she shot out of the bedcovers at the opposite end of the bed to where she had gone in, which unfortunately was right beside Connie’s face, as she sought refuge hiding in the furthest and darkest corner under the bed.

Connie felt a surge of panic and she heard herself giving an anguished squeal at the sight of something furry, grey and stripy shooting out of her bed at the rate of knots a mere inch or so in front of her nose.

Jessie sat bolt upright, and it took him a second or two to work out why, while it clearly was his familiar bedroom, it all looked so different and a bit like looking at something in reverse in a mirror, before he remembered that he was sleeping for the very first time across the room from where he normally slept, in Connie’s bed. He felt for Fishy beside him, and then he realised that perhaps it was Fishy’s hasty exit that had led to Connie making such a noise.

The twins looked at each other and then across at Peggy, but she didn’t so much as break the rhythm of her stentorious breathing, she was still so soundly asleep.

So much for he and Connie having to creep around in case they woke her unnecessarily, Jessie thought as he sat up, stretched loudly and wildly, and then slipped his feet to the floor.

Barbara had planned a lavish breakfast spread of bacon, eggs and fried bread for everyone so that at least she knew they’d all be well set up for the day.

Needless to say, their late start meant that by the time everyone was dressed and downstairs, and Fishy was giving a cry that was definitely announcing it was high time for her breakfast, it was already ten to eight. And so the best Barbara could hurriedly prepare was tea and toast, and as they ate she made everyone cheese and pickle sandwiches for lunch that she hurriedly slapped together before she wrapped the sandwiches more carefully in waxed paper. Then they all got ready to walk together over to St Mark’s Primary School, Ted announcing that he’d go to work once he had seen the children were safely delivered to the school and had everything they needed.

‘And you’ve got to say goodbye to us, Daddy,’ Connie reminded him, her small voice a far cry from how she spoke ordinarily; it made both of her parents recall when she had been a tiny girl. Connie added, ‘We couldn’t go away with the school if you hadn’t said goodbye to us properly, could we, Jessie?’

Both Ted and Barbara felt a lump rising to their throats. Connie had inadvertently touched a raw nerve.

‘Look sharp, you two – but before we leave, let’s go through Mr Jones’s list one last time,’ said Peggy to the twins as they all put on their coats, seeing their parents needed a moment or two to compose themselves.

Ted meanwhile pressed on Peggy two £5 notes, so that she could dole out some pocket money to the children if she found herself billeted near to them, plus, he said, she’d have plenty over if they – or Peggy – needed anything that nobody so far had thought of, Peggy promising without being asked that she would keep a detailed account of what she spent on Jessie and Connie, and that she would return the money unspent if she were billeted somewhere else that was too far from the children for her to have much contact. This really was a significant sum and Peggy knew that Ted and Barbara could ill afford to waste it.

At last the little cavalcade was ready to set off, with Fishy keeping watch on them from an upstairs window. Everyone was clutching their gas masks in their brand-new cardboard boxes that had twine attached ready for the mask’s owner to loop over a shoulder, and after a little tussle with Peggy, Ted and Barbara manhandling between them the three items of luggage along the road.

As Jessie and Connie headed down Jubilee Street in the direction of school, the twins were reminded forcibly that it might be quite some time before they saw these familiar houses again.

Connie briefly slid her hand into Jessie’s, and announced, ‘I can’t believe it but I feel homesick already, when I haven’t yet gone. They are ugly old houses, I’m sure, but I know every one.’

Not one of them could think of what they should say back to Connie and so nobody said anything for a while, although Barbara made sure that she smiled comfortingly at Jessie to let him know that she realised that he’d also be finding the whole experience very strange even though he was keeping quiet.

As they walked along they saw families similarly heading to the school, although with none of the boisterous behaviour or whoops of laughter that normally denoted south-east London family outings. The children gave minute half-smiles in the direction of their pals, while the adults accompanying them nodded sombrely at their opposite numbers.

When they got close to St Mark’s, it was to see the unusual sight of four single-decker coaches already parked up in the road outside the playground, the drivers wearing matching peaked caps and standing together as they chatted, all the while taking deep drags on Senior Service unfiltered cigarettes.

‘Peggy, you go and report to Susanne, who’ll be most pleased to see you I don’t doubt, seeing the scrum that’s here already, and I’ll look after your handbag and suitcase while you sort yourself out,’ said Barbara, as she looked at those milling across the playground, and then indicated to her sister where she and Ted would be waiting with the children.

It wasn’t long before Peggy threaded her way back to her sister across the now-heaving playground as in the time she had been gone the mass of people gathered squashily in its confines had doubled.

Peggy reported that she and Connie and Jessie were all designated to the final coach, and this meant that they weren’t due to leave the school until eleven o’clock.

‘Mr Jones is going to ask all the parents to go in a minute as he thinks the children will start getting upset if their mothers and fathers stay too long,’ she told Barbara and Ted, followed by, ‘and Ted, you need to put our luggage over by the wall where that “4” has been chalked as this is the mark for those going in the last bus. It means our luggage will go on the same bus to the station that we also travel on. Then you both had better start saying your goodbyes, and after that the teachers and me shall take it from there.’

The schoolchildren of St Mark’s, in general, whether they be small five-year-olds or old-timers of eleven years of age, took the actual leave-taking in a much more stoical manner than many of the parents managed, as they said their goodbyes and took their final hugs (or, in the case of some of the sons and fathers, contented themselves merely with a brusque downwards pump of the hand). Most mothers and one or two of the fathers too had hankies out, and many weren’t at all embarrassed to be seen allowing the tears to flow freely.

Jessie and Connie kept the proverbial stiff upper lip, as Barbara leant down to tie to their coat buttonholes big parcel labels that matched the labels already attached to their luggage that had in large capital letters their name, their London address and the name of their school, and then she made sure that they each had a pencil stub in their pocket so that once they knew where they were going they could write that too in the space below Barbara’s writing.

‘Now, you take care of each other, an’ remember to be ’onest and polite to the people you are going to meet,’ said Ted. ‘An’ work ’ard at school, and don’t shirk on any errands or odd jobs around the ’ouse the people lookin’ after yer ask of yer both. Eat up everything they give you – there’s to be no leavin’ of anyfing or sayin’ yer don’t like it, mind.’

‘Send us a note the very minute you know where you are, and me and your dad will write back,’ added Barbara. ‘And do try to stick together in order that you are billeted together, remember. Hold hands when people come in to look at you, and try very hard not to take no for an answer if anyone tries to say that you can’t stay together. Have you understood, Connie and Jessie? It really is very important that you do.’

Connie and Jessie each gave their mother a look which implied that Barbara’s last instruction would obviously go without saying.

‘And remember that I’ve written letters for whoever takes you in, so don’t forget to hand those over,’ Barbara went on huskily, as she dabbed now beneath her eyes with a pressed and folded hanky.

The children were hugged tightly, as was Peggy, and when Barbara and Ted turned just before they headed out the school gate to the playground to give a final wave, it was to the reassuring sight that the twins were standing side by side, looking united and determined, their auntie standing behind them as she rested a hand on each of their shoulders.

‘Look after Fishy,’ called Connie. ‘She can do our errands for you with us gone!’

‘Do you think our Jessie has grown a little?’ said Barbara, once she and Ted had got to the end of the street, and she had dried her eyes and put her handkerchief back in her handbag. ‘For a moment, I fancied he was looking as if he has.’

Ted still didn’t trust himself to speak, but he nodded and then crept a comforting arm around Barbara’s waist for a few paces.