A Childs War by Richard Ballard Page B

heard George moving about behind the table.
    â€œAll right. Open your eyes now!”
    There on the table was a beautiful model theatre. John switched off the light in the room. A string was pulled and the curtain went up to reveal a lit stage with scenery and a frenetically dancing harlequin. The curtain descended and rose up again and this time there was Mr Punch. With Graham behind the table as well, four characters were possible: Mrs Punch, the policeman, the baby and the crocodile all appeared in turn and the script was read out by two distorted voices by the light of a torch held by a clamp in a stand constructed for the purpose. Everybody joined in at “That’s the way to do it!” and it did not occur to them that there was any cruelty involved in Mr Punch’s violence. George’s own voice then announced an interval, and a tray of drinks was produced from behind the table with something appropriate for everyone present.
    Then, after ten minutes, George and Graham were ready to present two figures in ballet costume for a version of a pas-dedeux, with the music played by the two fathers on kazoos. The curtain fell and rose again and as a finale Harlequin appeared once more to wish all present a prosperous New Year and, God willing, more peaceful times. The curtain descended and rose for the last time and then the two controllers of the straight wires that supported each of the cardboard figures with knotted joints produced a curtain call appearance of the whole cast amid the acclamations of all four in the audience. Alex was making most favourable comparisons between this show and the ones he had seen on his Saturday visits to the New Theatre.
    To maintain the magic, Joyce ushered everyone to the kitchen on a pretext all understood except Alex, while the two men quickly took the component parts of the theatre upstairs and restored the front room to its normal state except for the large table. The reason for leaving the room was to pick up little cakes, which were then brought back on plates and eaten. Christmas was kept until ten o’clock, by which time Alex was dozing off and bedtime was decreed.
VII
    In their room, George and Edna reviewed the day.
    â€œThank you for this dress, George. I like it very much indeed.”
    â€œI’m glad you do. You look nearly as good in it as without it.”
    â€œGo on! Don’t start all that: these walls are very thin.”
    â€œThank you for these gloves, too. Just what I need for those cold nights on the coach when the heater fails, as it usually does just past High Wycombe. And this tie is just what I like.”
    â€œI’m sorry there wasn’t more. They were very strict about clothing coupons in the shops here.”
    â€œA bit of black market comes in handy from time to time if you know the right contacts!”
    â€œAnd you must’ve to get a silk dress like this!”
    She gave one last twirl before she took it off and carefully hung it up. George wished she wouldn’t wear corsets. Gone were the days when she ran to fat and her friends called her “Pudding” or “Pud” (to rhyme with mud) for short. Since they had come here she had lost a good deal of weight and her jet-black hair had begun to go grey, “To match mine,” he thought to himself.
    â€œI haven’t seen Alex so happy for a long time,” she said to him with a lot of feeling. “He really enjoyed the aeroplane, didn’t he? And the theatre: those lights you made for it were marvellous.”
    â€œIt’s wonderful what a lot of torch bulbs in the right sockets can do!” he modestly replied. “But what about your curtain? That was the best bit!”
    â€œYou must take the credit for getting hold of the theatre itself, though. I bet it cost a pretty penny.”
    â€œIt did, but not so bad with staff discount. Anyway, the best thing was seeing his face through the proscenium arch!”
    â€œThe what