Josie Under Fire (5 page)

“She’s a very committed person,” agreed Mrs. Prescott.

The whistle of a descending bomb sounded overhead and Aunty Grace looked up sharply and exclaimed, “Edith! Girls! Come here!”

They all huddled close together as the crash came, somewhere nearby. Josie felt the walls shaking. Perhaps the whole house was shaking. It was an old house. She imagined the ancient timbers giving way, the floors falling through, the way she’d seen them sometimes in other houses after a night’s bombing: buildings collapsed in on themselves, reduced to a pile of wood and bricks. I wish Mummy was here, she thought; then I wouldn’t have to pretend I’m not scared.

“It’s not as near as it sounds,” said Aunty Grace.

Mr. Prescott agreed. “Belgravia, I’d say.”

“Battersea caught it last night,” said his wife. “Miss Rutherford was telling us.”

They heard the guns start up.

“Those are ours.”

They had all become expert at interpreting the sounds. When you could put a name to what was happening, Josie thought, you didn’t feel quite so defenceless.

The guns went quiet again, and Edith drew Josie away and showed her the packs of cards and puzzle books in the cupboard. They played
Blackout!
and
Old Maid
, and then
Snap
.

As they slapped down the cards Josie half listened to the adults’ conversation. Don’t mention Ted, she silently begged her aunt. Don’t let all that trouble follow me here.

“
Snap!
” Edith grinned at her. “You weren’t paying attention!”

Chapter Six

Bad Company

The next day Edith and Josie went off early to school, eager to find signs of the previous night’s bombing and to look for shrapnel. There was nothing nearby, but when they reached Pimlico Road they saw that a bomb had fallen in Elm Walk. The pavement was the usual mess of broken glass and brick debris, and the smell of cordite hung on the air. People were sweeping footpaths and pavements as if the glass were autumn leaves.

Josie spotted the tailfin of an incendiary bomb and picked it up.

“Oh! That’s good!” Edith scuffed around with her shoe, hoping for another souvenir. There were some bits of metal, but they were too large and jagged to take to school. “They’ll be gone by the time we get back,” she said.

An air-raid warden came and shooed them away. “You girls should be at school!”

Reluctantly they left and walked to Norton Terrace and into school. The girls there were all in a state of excitement about last night’s raid. One of them came from Elm Walk; and there had been another bomb in Belgravia, where some of the others lived. There were stories of windows blown in, dogs gone missing, incendiaries put out with a stirrup pump, shrapnel found next morning. Before Christmas the bombers had come every night, but this was the first raid for a week or so and everyone was talking about it.

They filed into the hall for Assembly. Miss Gregory, the headmistress, led the prayers. She told the girls to think of their fathers, uncles and brothers serving abroad, all of them risking their lives to protect Britain from invasion.

Edith leaned towards Josie. “All except Ted,” she whispered.

“Shut up!”

So much for Edith saying she doesn’t blame
me
, Josie thought; she still can’t resist a dig.

“We shall sing hymn number 261,” said Miss Gregory. “‘Bless’d are the pure in heart’.”

As they began singing Edith whispered again, “I didn’t mean it.”

No; but you said it, Josie thought.

She sang:

“The LORD, Who left the heavens

Our life and peace to bring,

To dwell in lowliness with men,

Their Pattern and their King…”

Ted had said to her, the day he went to his tribunal, “It’d be easier if I was religious – a member of some church, or a Quaker. They think no one else has a conscience. I’ll need to convince them that I truly believe we should not go to war; that I’m just not prepared to be part of it.”

“…Still to the lowly soul

He doth Himself impart…”

When Assembly was over and they went into the classroom, Josie took her seat next to Alice Hampton. She didn’t want to sit next to Alice now; she felt guilty and embarrassed. But if Alice resented her, she didn’t show it; neither was she any more friendly. Josie wanted to say, “It wasn’t me – wasn’t my idea,” but Alice gave her no way to make amends.

During the morning it began to rain, and by lunchtime it was far too wet and cold to go to the bomb site. Edith and Josie hurried home. Edith’s mother had left a shopping list for them, so they went to Oakley Street and bought groceries: dried milk, a tiny amount of butter and cheese, bacon, sugar, bread; and their own sweets ration: Josie chose aniseed balls and Edith had sherbet lemons. “Then we can share,” she said.

Josie enjoyed shopping in a place where she was not known. At home in Greenwich the shopkeepers were often cool towards her, and she would sometimes be aware of curious or hostile glances from other customers. Once, she had walked into Hollamby’s when the shop was crowded and full of the buzz of conversation, only for the place to fall silent at her appearance.

Aunty Grace came home and put the shopping away, shaking her head over the small size of the butter ration. She began cooking while the girls did their homework.

That night there was no bombing.

“Too cloudy,” said Aunty Grace. She was relieved, and sat knitting and listening to the wireless while Josie wrote a letter to her mother and Edith teased the cat.

The next afternoon – Wednesday – Edith said, “I’ve got Red Cross Cadets group at two, at the church hall. We’re learning first aid. Do you want to come?”

“If they’ll let me.”

They did; and the two of them spent the afternoon with a group of cadets and two women from the Red Cross, bandaging, splinting and resuscitating each other.

It was Thursday before they went to the bomb site again. This time the boys had the promised fire alight, fed with wood from the smashed-up shed. The girls stood around watching.

The usual boys were there: Vic; his younger brother Stan; and Ray, a big, excitable boy of about thirteen.

“You’ll get the warden after you, lighting that fire,” said Clare.

Stan laughed. “We’re not scared of him!”

Edith turned to Vic. He was the one whose attention the girls all vied for. “Did you get any shrapnel on Tuesday? We found a bit of an incendiary.”

“
I
found it,” said Josie. She brought it out of her pocket to show him.

But Vic was unimpressed. “I’ve got tons of those. Got a bit off a Dornier—”

“I’ve got a dial—”

“We found an unexploded bomb—”

A clamour of voices, male and female, had broken out. Ray waved his arms about, telling a story about a grenade he’d picked up and taken home. “Threw it in the backyard – whoosh! – bits of fence everywhere! Dad went mad!”

Vic drew Edith and Josie aside. “Have a look at this.”

Out of his pocket he brought a watch. Josie sensed instantly that it was stolen. It was a man’s watch, gold, expensive-looking, with a brown leather strap, and had a tiny second hand that went round in its own circle.

Edith drew in her breath. “Where did you get that? You stole it, didn’t you?”

“Found it,” said Vic. “Found a few things, me and Stan.”

Stan had joined them. “Those houses in Belmont Walk,” he said, “they’re all empty. Chace Terrace as well, and Ruyter Street. Rows of toffs’ houses, no one living there, all their furniture and stuff left behind. The owners have hopped it.”

“Gone to their country homes for the duration,” said Vic. “Jewellery and all sorts left lying around…”

“You broke in?” Edith sounded shocked, but Josie could see that she was impressed.

“It’s easy. The cellars are the best way. And those people don’t need the stuff, or they’d have taken it with them.”

“But – it’s still stealing,” said Josie.

Vic shrugged. “Rescue services do it all the time, don’t they? Our cousin’s a fireman. Says it’s one of the perks. Anything small, like that. Or stuff you can sell.”

Josie didn’t want to believe him. But Clare, who’d been listening, said, “It’s true. My aunty’s house in Hampstead was looted after she was bombed out. She says it must have been the rescue workers.”

Josie didn’t like to think of that: men risking their own lives to save others, but robbing them at the same time. Did that make them heroes, or villains?

“There’s your loopy friend,” said Vic, glancing across the waste ground.

Josie saw Alice Hampton hurrying along the road, head down.

“She’s not our friend!” retorted Edith.

And Sylvia said, “She’s a drip.”

They left the boys, and Josie hoped they would choose a game – skipping, or tag. But it seemed the game was to be taunting Alice. They began to pick up small pieces of brick debris and flick them, as if accidentally, in her direction, all the time drawing closer. Then, with Pam in the lead, they set off in pursuit.

Josie hung back. But Edith said, “Come
on
!” – and she went along with them, afraid to be singled out, shown up as different.

They surrounded Alice; blocked her way. She tried to push past them, but Pam and Edith dodged from side to side, laughing, outwitting her, keeping her trapped. “Don’t run away! We’re coming with you to your class. Then we can all learn to be teacher’s pets.”

Alice ignored them. Sylvia sneaked up behind her and pulled her plait, untying the ribbon, which slipped out. Clare tugged at her satchel. “Let’s have a look at your books! What are you learning? Let’s see.”

“Leave me
alone
!” Alice shouted.

Josie appealed to her cousin. “Edith, let her go. It’s mean.”

But Edith wasn’t listening. She was full of the excitement of the chase. Alice broke free of them, but they ran after her and caught her up. Josie followed, unwillingly.

They only fell back when Alice turned the corner into Belmont Gardens, and they saw that she was heading for one of the houses there.

“So that’s where she goes,” said Pam.

The group split up, and Edith and Josie set off home down the King’s Road.

Josie walked ahead, knowing her feelings must be obvious to her cousin.

“It’s just a game,” said Edith. “We’re not hurting her.”

“It’s mean.”

“So what? No one likes her.
You
don’t like her, do you?”

“No.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter, then, does it?”

But Josie felt that it did.

The next day, at school, she said to Alice, “I tried to stop them chasing you.”

But Alice only shrugged and said, “You needn’t bother. I don’t care.”

At break times Alice stayed in, doing tasks for Miss Hallam: filling inkwells, or tidying the stationery cupboard.

“She’s a toady,” said Sylvia.

Or she’s scared to come out because of us, thought Josie. But she didn’t say so.

On Friday they followed Alice home from school after lunch. They walked at a discreet distance – mindful of the fact that they were in school uniform – but they spoke loudly about creeps and toadies. Josie knew Alice must be all too aware of them. When she reached her family’s shop she opened a side door and glanced back with a hunted expression before going in and closing the door behind her.

I ought to stick up for her, Josie thought, whether she wants me to or not. But Josie had been the victim herself at school in Greenwich. It wouldn’t take much for Edith’s friends to turn against her. She pushed at her glasses – a nervous movement. If she didn’t seem to be their sort; if she wouldn’t go along with them; if Edith let slip a hint about Ted (and she might; you couldn’t trust Edith)… Why should she risk it, sticking up for a girl no one liked?

“Josie! Come on!” called Sylvia. “We’re going over to Lennox Square. Vic says there’s lots of shrapnel…”

They like me, she thought. I’m part of the group. It was a good feeling. She desperately wanted it to last.

Chapter Seven

Trouble