Home Front Girls (32 page)

‘I’m glad you think that,’ Lucy said sheepishly. ‘Because I have a big favour to ask of you. I was wondering if you would pop round and let him out into the yard during the day for me while I’m at work?’

‘I can do a lot bloody better than that,’ Mrs P declared. ‘He can come round here an’ spend the whole day wi’ me when you’re out an’ about. We can keep each other company.’

‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ Lucy grinned and it was so nice to see her smile that Mrs P felt a lump form in her throat. ‘But now I’d better get His Lordship here round to his new home and get him settled in. Bye for now.’

Mrs P watched her cross the yard and said to her husband, ‘Life’s a funny thing at times, ain’t it, Fred?’

‘It is that, Glad,’ he agreed quietly, as a picture of Mary and their Freddy flashed before his eyes.

Next door, Lucy dragged a wooden packing crate from the cupboard under the stairs. She had already sorted out an old warm blanket, and once she’d tucked it into the crate she was satisfied that it would make a very comfortable bed for her new friend. She then selected two deep dishes from the kitchen cupboard, one for his food and one for water.

‘There you are, Harry,’ she told him. ‘We’ll soon have you done and dusted now.’ He wagged his tail as if he could understand every word she said, and she suddenly realised that she hadn’t minded coming home tonight for the first time in ages. The house felt more like a home again now, and it was all thanks to Harry.

‘Cooee!’ Mrs P shouted as she puffed into Lucy’s kitchen half an hour later. ‘I got to thinkin’ after you’d gone and realised that I still had these.’ She held out a collar and lead, saying, ‘They were my Prince’s an’ I couldn’t bring meself to get rid of ’em when we lost him. Lookin’ at Harry, the collar should fit a treat.’

‘But are you quite sure you want to part with them, Mrs P?’ Lucy asked doubtfully. She knew how much Mrs P had loved her dog and how devastated she had been when he died.

Her neighbour nodded. ‘I’m quite sure, luvvie. They’re only lyin’ in a drawer an’ it will be nice to see ’em bein’ used again.’

‘Then thank you very much,’ Lucy said gratefully as she took them from her and tried the collar on Harry. It did indeed fit very well and he wagged his tail as if in appreciation.

‘I reckon he were well loved at some time,’ Mrs P said then. ‘He’s such a lovely-natured dog he must have been well treated.’

They both became solemn then as they each thought of the circumstances that might have led to him becoming a stray. Perhaps his family home had been destroyed in one of the raids? It was a sobering thought, but not wishing to spoil Lucy’s happy mood the older woman commented, ‘At least all’s well that ends well – in his case, anyway. But now I’m goin’ to leave you two to bond.’ Even as the words were being spoken, Harry dropped his head into Lucy’s lap and Mrs P chuckled. ‘I take that back. Looks to me like he already has. G’night, love.’

Lucy stroked him lovingly, wondering if perhaps she shouldn’t let him sleep in her room that night. He was in a strange place, after all, and she didn’t want him to feel lonely. The decision was taken out of her hands when the sirens began to wail just as she was preparing for bed. ‘Oh not again!’ she groaned, wondering how much longer it might be before they could all get an unbroken night’s sleep.

‘Come on, Harry,’ she encouraged. ‘Looks like it’s the shelter again tonight.’

As she stepped out into the yard she almost collided with Mr and Mrs P who were just coming out of their back door. Mrs P had her metal curlers in and was clutching a rubber hot-water bottle. Mr P was in a string vest with his braces dangling around his backside.

‘Bloody Jerries,’ the older woman complained as enemy planes sounded in the distance. They all looked up at the sky and saw a darker mass zooming towards them in the distance. The sky lit up with searchlights and Mrs P hurried them all towards the shelter now as the drone of the planes became a roar.

‘Looks like some more poor sods are in fer it tonight,’ she said.

Mr P had barely closed the door behind them when the Bofors guns and the ack-acks growled into life and Mrs P wrapped her faded old dressing-gown more tightly about her. Harry shrank against Lucy’s leg and she stroked him gently.

‘It’s all right, boy,’ she soothed him. ‘You’re quite safe in here with us.’ And then they all settled back, trying to close their ears to the deafening explosions going on all around them.

‘Oh Lord, I’m so tired,’ Annabelle yawned the next morning at work during their break. ‘I doubt I got two hours’ sleep all night.’

‘Well, neither did we,’ Dotty said rather indignantly. ‘I heard on the wireless this morning that the Rex took a direct hit last night and it’s nothing more than a pile of rubble now so we won’t be going to see
Gone With the Wind
tonight.’

‘Oh, that’s just wonderful!’ Annabelle rolled her eyes. ‘I was looking forward to that. I dare say I shall have to spend another night at home now.’

‘At least you still have your birthday party on Saturday to look forward to,’ Lucy pointed out, but if anything that only made Annabelle more disgruntled.

‘Oh yes. And some party it’s going to be, isn’t it? Just us, Mummy, Grandpa and Grandma. I was hoping to have a room in a posh hotel, a band, a wonderful spread laid on – instead it will be our front room and a home-made cake!’

Suddenly something in Dotty snapped. ‘You can be so selfish sometimes,’ she hissed in a rare show of temper. ‘I happen to know that your mother has been saving her food rations for weeks to make you that cake, and it took her absolutely hours to ice it! And here’s me who would give anything in the whole world just to know
who
my mum was – let alone have her bake me a cake!’

Annabelle’s cheeks reddened, and she lit a cigarette.

‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I suppose I did sound a bit ungrateful, but I’m just so tired.’

Dotty shrugged, regretting her outburst, but it couldn’t be taken back now and they were relieved when it was time to part and go back to their separate departments.

Dotty felt guilty when she got back to the haberdashery department. She was still living very happily at Annabelle’s, and Miranda had made her very welcome, but her mind was in turmoil. Recently, she had been going to London every so often on her day off to spend time with Robert and Paul, her publisher. Paul had told her that her debut novel would be released in a year or so, depending on the availability of paper. They were even discussing ideas for book covers now, and Dotty could barely wait to see her first novel in print, however long it took. Meantime she was busily working on another novel, as well as keeping the magazine supplied with a fresh story each month.

It was her feelings about Robert that she was finding confusing. Each time she saw him waiting on the platform for her at Euston her heart would lift, and it became harder each time they met to say goodbye. Finally she was having to ask herself if she was in love with him. But never having been in love before, she had no idea how to know what love was. Was it the way he could produce butterflies in her stomach with just a smile? Or the longing she sometimes got to just reach out and touch him? However, she knew that even if she did love him, there could be no happy ending for them. Robert was rich, successful and attractive. She, on the other hand, was plain and boring. A shop girl who didn’t even know where she came from. Why would he ever look at her when he could surely have his pick of any woman he chose?

Admittedly he had never shown her anything else but kindness, and he had told her that she was precious to him. He had even entrusted his mother’s locket to her, which she wore all the time. But she had an inkling that he had done this because he felt sorry for her. And so what should she do about it? Would it be better to walk away now before she got hurt? She supposed it would, and each time she came back from London she promised herself that she would never see him again. But it was so much easier said than done, and her need to be near him drove common sense away. And then there was something else that was playing on her mind. Recently the need to find her real family had resurfaced as it had at different times throughout her life. But she was older now and after making enquiries at the local Welfare Department she had been told that the Red Cross might be able to help her. Of course, she realised that as there was a war going on it wouldn’t be the best time to approach them, but the war couldn’t last forever, could it? And when it was over she would begin her search in earnest. It gave her something to look forward to.

‘Things ain’t looking good for our lads,’ Mr P commented the next night when Lucy rushed round there to collect Harry. He put the
Daily Mail
down and said, ‘They reckon the seas are red wi’ blood after some o’ the battles. Ee, the Jerries are pickin’ our lads off like flies.’

Lucy and Mrs P shuddered simultaneously as they pictured the heaving seas full of the dead and dying men who would never see their families again. It was too awful to contemplate.

‘Coventry and London ain’t the only cities bein’ targeted now either,’ he went on gravely. ‘The Jerries have bombed Southampton, Liverpool, Bristol, Portsmouth an’ Birmingham an’ all now, an’ they reckon folks are leavin’ all the major cities in droves, pushin’ what’s left o’ their belongings in old prams, wheelbarrows – anythin’! Yet Churchill still reckons we’ll beat the buggers! I think it’s only his optimism that’s keepin’ the country’s spirits up.’

‘Let’s just hope as he’s right then,’ Mrs P muttered, but then she forced a smile as she changed the subject and told Lucy, ‘This chap ’ere ’as been as good as gold. I ain’t known I’ve had him. But he’s pleased to see you – look. If his tail wags any faster it’ll be in danger o’ fallin’ off.’

Lucy bent down to hug Harry and was rewarded with a licking.

‘He’s set me to thinkin’ that perhaps we should get another dog,’ Mrs P said musingly and her husband glanced up in surprise.

‘But I thought yer said yer’d never have another pet after we lost Prince?’

‘Happen I did,’ she admitted sheepishly. ‘But that was then an’ this is now, an’ God knows there’s enough strays needin’ a good home.’ She patted Harry affectionately. ‘Back then when we lost Prince I had the little ’uns to run around after an’ keep me busy,’ she told him matter-of-factly. ‘But the truth o’ the matter is, I get lonely now wi’ our Barry and Beryl gettin’ up to Gawd knows what in the country, an’ our Freddy . . .’ She gulped before going on. ‘Anyway, wi’ you two at work all day I’ve no one to talk to so maybe I’ve changed me mind.’

‘Well, they do say as that’s a lady’s prerogative,’ Fred teased. ‘An’ if you’ve a mind to get another dog I’ll not stand in yer way. Happen he’ll be good company fer this ’un here.’

Lucy smiled as she headed for the door, saying, ‘I’m off then, and thanks for having Harry for me. Let’s hope we get a good night’s sleep tonight, eh?’ And thankfully they did and all got up feeling a lot better for it the next morning.

That same evening, as Annabelle arrived home from work she was surprised to find her mother walking around the house with a stranger, an elderly gentleman, showing him into the rooms.

‘Oh, hello darling. You’re early.’ Miranda appeared flustered as she told her, ‘Go and have a cup of tea – there’s plenty left in the pot. Mr Buxton will be leaving shortly and then I’ll join you.’

Annabelle went off to do as she was told, wondering what was going on.

It was fifteen minutes later before her mother joined her and she asked bluntly, ‘So what was that all about then? Why were you showing that chap around the house?’

Annabelle had removed her make-up and was smoothing Pond’s cold cream across her face at the kitchen table, a habit her mother abhorred, but just this once Miranda chose to ignore it as she told her, ‘I’m afraid there is something I need to speak to you about. The truth is, I’ve been putting it off because I don’t think you’re going to be too pleased about it. But the long and the short of the matter is . . . Mr Buxton is an estate agent. I’m going to sell the house.’

‘You’re going to
what?’
Annabelle was completely flabbergasted. ‘But why? This is our home! I can’t remember ever having lived anywhere else and I don’t
want
to move.’

‘Neither do I,’ Miranda answered as tears welled in her eyes. ‘But I’m afraid we don’t have much choice any more, darling. Times are hard for everyone and the money your father left us to manage on is dwindling rapidly.’ She spread her hands as she looked around her beautiful home, each room furnished and decorated with love and care over the years. ‘The trouble is, it’s such a huge house to keep. The heating bill alone is astronomical, which is why I don’t light the fires in all the rooms any more. And I’d rather sell it now than wait until we have to, and then accept some ridiculous offer – if we can, that is. According to Mr Buxton, properties aren’t selling well at all at the moment! So if it doesn’t sell ... Well, we’ll just have to tighten our belts a little more and shut some of the rooms off. But it isn’t all doom and gloom. If I do manage to sell it, we can buy a smaller house somewhere that’s more economical to run. You can come with me to look. That’ll be nice, won’t it, choosing it together?’

‘No, it damn well
won’t!’
Annabelle spat churlishly. ‘I want to stay here!’

‘Then that’s a shame because I’m afraid we are moving if we get the chance, whether you like it or not. It isn’t a matter of choice any more. It’s necessity. I want a home for your father to come back to and we’re so much luckier than most. Many people don’t even
have
a home any more. They’re leaving the city in droves to live with relatives or anyone who’ll take them in, God bless them. So I suggest you forget your tantrums for now, young lady, and count yourself amongst the lucky ones. Everyone is having to make do and mend at the moment!’ And with that Miranda turned and stamped from the room, leaving Annabelle to stare after her mother open-mouthed. She was beginning to hate that phrase – make do and mend! It seemed that that was all everyone did any more.