birthday lunch I thought I’d make a bit of an effort,’ she said, looking down at her skirt. ‘You two should do the same.’
‘I don’t own a skirt,’ Gertie said.‘Ellen does, though she’s grown so much and I doubt the two she has would fit her now. Go on,’ she urged, ‘at least make yourself presentable.’
They were soon back, smiling with appreciation at the nicely laid table. ‘My, aren’t we posh?’ Gertie said. ‘It’s almost like being back in my father’s house.’
‘Hardly. For one we haven’t got silver cutlery, and this table only seats four, not twelve, but for once I’ve put a nice tablecloth on it.’
‘I think it looks lovely,’ Ellen said as she took a seat. ‘What’s for lunch?’
‘Vegetable soup.’
They all tucked in, and, once finished, Ellen was about to leave the table. ‘Hold on,’ Hilda said. ‘Stay there.’
‘Why?’
‘Never you mind.’
Hilda hurried to the scullery and, taking the cake out from under its cover, she lit the candles, but then suddenly, from nowhere, a strange feeling washed over her. No, no, she had to be imagining it, yet the sense of someone standing beside her, a presence, was strong. She wanted to turn her head, wanted to look, but, frozen with fear, she couldn’t move a muscle.
‘Come on, Hilda,’ Gertie called.
In that instant the spell was broken, leaving Hilda shaken and bewildered. At last she was able tomove, to turn her head, but saw nobody there. Still trembling, she picked up the cake, and somehow managed to plant a smile on her face as she carried it into the living room. Her voice sounded a bit quivery, but this was a special moment for Ellen and she didn’t want to spoil it as she sang, ‘Happy birthday to you…Happy birthday to you…’
Gertie joined in and Hilda saw her daughter’s delighted smile. There had been few real treats since the war had started, and suddenly she found her eyes moist with tears. If only Doug were here – if only he hadn’t missed his daughter’s birthday again. Hilda shivered; the incident in the scullery was still with her and now she almost cried out against the thought that crossed her mind. Of course it hadn’t been Doug. She didn’t really believe in ghosts, in spirits, so why was she letting it get to her? It was just fear, Hilda told herself, that was all, the day-in, day-out fear for Doug’s safety.
‘Oh, Mum, it’s smashing,’ Ellen said, her eyes on the cake that Mrs Brandon had decorated so beautifully with pink and white icing.
‘Blow out the candles and make a wish,’ Gertie urged.
‘I…I wish my dad…’
‘Don’t say it out loud,’ Gertie warned. ‘If you do, it won’t come true.’
Ellen closed her eyes, this time making the wish silently, and then opening them she blew out all of the candles in one go. ‘There, it’ll come true now,’ she said, smiling happily.
Hilda fought to pull herself together. She could guess what her daughter had wished for and hoped it would be fulfilled – that Doug would get leave again soon, or, even better, that this rotten war would end and he would come home for good.
Chapter 7
All Hilda’s worries and imaginings left her early in December when she got a letter from Doug. Christmas came, a spartan one, followed by a dismal New Year. There hadn’t been any more strange incidents, but sometimes Hilda found herself thinking about the feeling of someone being there, beside her in the scullery, yet she still couldn’t come up with an explanation.
One day in early January, Hilda decided to talk to Gertie about it, and said, ‘Gertie, do you believe in ghosts?’
‘Of course not. Why?’
‘You’ll think I’m mad, and anyway, it happened over two months ago.’
‘What happened?’
Hilda told her and, seeing the expression on Gertie’s face, she wished she’d continued to keep her mouth shut. ‘All right, I know it sounds potty.’
‘Our mind, senses and eyes can play all sorts oftricks on us, and if
‘I don’t own a skirt,’ Gertie said.‘Ellen does, though she’s grown so much and I doubt the two she has would fit her now. Go on,’ she urged, ‘at least make yourself presentable.’
They were soon back, smiling with appreciation at the nicely laid table. ‘My, aren’t we posh?’ Gertie said. ‘It’s almost like being back in my father’s house.’
‘Hardly. For one we haven’t got silver cutlery, and this table only seats four, not twelve, but for once I’ve put a nice tablecloth on it.’
‘I think it looks lovely,’ Ellen said as she took a seat. ‘What’s for lunch?’
‘Vegetable soup.’
They all tucked in, and, once finished, Ellen was about to leave the table. ‘Hold on,’ Hilda said. ‘Stay there.’
‘Why?’
‘Never you mind.’
Hilda hurried to the scullery and, taking the cake out from under its cover, she lit the candles, but then suddenly, from nowhere, a strange feeling washed over her. No, no, she had to be imagining it, yet the sense of someone standing beside her, a presence, was strong. She wanted to turn her head, wanted to look, but, frozen with fear, she couldn’t move a muscle.
‘Come on, Hilda,’ Gertie called.
In that instant the spell was broken, leaving Hilda shaken and bewildered. At last she was able tomove, to turn her head, but saw nobody there. Still trembling, she picked up the cake, and somehow managed to plant a smile on her face as she carried it into the living room. Her voice sounded a bit quivery, but this was a special moment for Ellen and she didn’t want to spoil it as she sang, ‘Happy birthday to you…Happy birthday to you…’
Gertie joined in and Hilda saw her daughter’s delighted smile. There had been few real treats since the war had started, and suddenly she found her eyes moist with tears. If only Doug were here – if only he hadn’t missed his daughter’s birthday again. Hilda shivered; the incident in the scullery was still with her and now she almost cried out against the thought that crossed her mind. Of course it hadn’t been Doug. She didn’t really believe in ghosts, in spirits, so why was she letting it get to her? It was just fear, Hilda told herself, that was all, the day-in, day-out fear for Doug’s safety.
‘Oh, Mum, it’s smashing,’ Ellen said, her eyes on the cake that Mrs Brandon had decorated so beautifully with pink and white icing.
‘Blow out the candles and make a wish,’ Gertie urged.
‘I…I wish my dad…’
‘Don’t say it out loud,’ Gertie warned. ‘If you do, it won’t come true.’
Ellen closed her eyes, this time making the wish silently, and then opening them she blew out all of the candles in one go. ‘There, it’ll come true now,’ she said, smiling happily.
Hilda fought to pull herself together. She could guess what her daughter had wished for and hoped it would be fulfilled – that Doug would get leave again soon, or, even better, that this rotten war would end and he would come home for good.
Chapter 7
All Hilda’s worries and imaginings left her early in December when she got a letter from Doug. Christmas came, a spartan one, followed by a dismal New Year. There hadn’t been any more strange incidents, but sometimes Hilda found herself thinking about the feeling of someone being there, beside her in the scullery, yet she still couldn’t come up with an explanation.
One day in early January, Hilda decided to talk to Gertie about it, and said, ‘Gertie, do you believe in ghosts?’
‘Of course not. Why?’
‘You’ll think I’m mad, and anyway, it happened over two months ago.’
‘What happened?’
Hilda told her and, seeing the expression on Gertie’s face, she wished she’d continued to keep her mouth shut. ‘All right, I know it sounds potty.’
‘Our mind, senses and eyes can play all sorts oftricks on us, and if
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