letter from Mrs Long? She often mentioned how grateful she was for everything we did for her after she lost her husband.’
The Longs had lived at the last but one house on Article Row, number 49. Their son, Christopher, had at one stage attended the local St John Ambulance brigade with Tilly. As a conscientious objector Christopher had not joined any of the armed services. Initially he had been in a reserved occupation, with the Civil Service, but then he had been obliged to join the bomb disposal service, something that, according to Tilly, he hadn’t wanted to do one little bit. She was so lucky, Olive reflected. Some poor families went through such dreadful things. It was true that she had been widowed young but she had had her baby to keep her going. After she had been widowed Mrs Long had left London to return to her home town in the South of England.
‘Have you seen what the Luftwaffe did the other night?’ Anne Morrison asked Olive after the vicar had poured her a class of elderberry wine.
‘Yes. We all went down to have a look at St Paul’s,’ Olive replied.
The sitting room door opened again, bringing a fresh draught of cold damp air against Olive’s legs as she stood with her back to it.
‘Oh, it’s Sergeant Dawson. No Mrs Dawson, though,’ Anne informed Olive with a small sigh. ‘Poor woman. One does feel sorry for her.’
‘Yes,’ Olive agreed without turning round. Drat Nancy for going and making her feel so self-conscious when she had no need to feel that way. Those who said that Nancy was a bit of a troublemaker certainly had a point.
‘Good evening, ladies.’
‘Good evening, Sergeant Dawson,’ Anne acknowledged the policeman’s greeting happily. ‘I was just saying to Olive here how very lucky we were to have you teach us both to drive. My husband said so at the time although I know there were those – no names mentioned but she’s a neighbour of yours, Olive – who were inclined to disapprove of females learning to drive, despite the fact that they have benefited from us doing so.’
Anne was a large, solidly built, jovial woman, and when she laughed, as she was doing now, her whole body seemed to shake with good-natured mirth.
‘All the credit doesn’t lie with me,’ Sergeant Dawson responded with his own smile, tactfully avoiding her reference to Nancy, much to Olive’s relief. ‘I had two very able pupils.’
‘Oh, excuse me, will you, please,’ Anne stopped him. ‘Only I’ve just seen Vera Stands and I need to have a word with her about the church flower rota.’ With another smile she strode off, leaving Olive on her own with the sergeant and no ready excuse to take her own leave. She was about to ask politely if the Dawsons had had a good Christmas and then just in time she remembered that the sergeant had once told her that Christmas was naturallya very difficult time for them both, but especially for his wife, because of the loss of their son.
Instead, she asked him, ‘Is it definitely all official now, I mean about you and Mrs Dawson taking Barney in?’
‘Yes. He had to spend Christmas in a children’s home outside the city, much to his disgust, but he’ll be coming to us in time for the new school term. Mrs Dawson’s been getting his room ready for him. She’s had me giving it a coat of distemper to freshen it up a bit.’ A rueful look crossed the sergeant’s face. ‘I just hope that she isn’t going to spoil him too much.’
Olive could tell from both his expression and the sound of his voice how much the sergeant was looking forward to Barney’s arrival.
‘Oh, and there’s something I ought to tell you,’ he continued. ‘It’s about Reg Baxter and that vacancy there was going to be at the ARP station, the one that I thought you should put your name forward for?’
Olive nodded. She’d felt both surprised and a bit overwhelmed when Sergeant Dawson had suggested that she volunteer to fill a vacancy at their local ARP unit, but the
The Longs had lived at the last but one house on Article Row, number 49. Their son, Christopher, had at one stage attended the local St John Ambulance brigade with Tilly. As a conscientious objector Christopher had not joined any of the armed services. Initially he had been in a reserved occupation, with the Civil Service, but then he had been obliged to join the bomb disposal service, something that, according to Tilly, he hadn’t wanted to do one little bit. She was so lucky, Olive reflected. Some poor families went through such dreadful things. It was true that she had been widowed young but she had had her baby to keep her going. After she had been widowed Mrs Long had left London to return to her home town in the South of England.
‘Have you seen what the Luftwaffe did the other night?’ Anne Morrison asked Olive after the vicar had poured her a class of elderberry wine.
‘Yes. We all went down to have a look at St Paul’s,’ Olive replied.
The sitting room door opened again, bringing a fresh draught of cold damp air against Olive’s legs as she stood with her back to it.
‘Oh, it’s Sergeant Dawson. No Mrs Dawson, though,’ Anne informed Olive with a small sigh. ‘Poor woman. One does feel sorry for her.’
‘Yes,’ Olive agreed without turning round. Drat Nancy for going and making her feel so self-conscious when she had no need to feel that way. Those who said that Nancy was a bit of a troublemaker certainly had a point.
‘Good evening, ladies.’
‘Good evening, Sergeant Dawson,’ Anne acknowledged the policeman’s greeting happily. ‘I was just saying to Olive here how very lucky we were to have you teach us both to drive. My husband said so at the time although I know there were those – no names mentioned but she’s a neighbour of yours, Olive – who were inclined to disapprove of females learning to drive, despite the fact that they have benefited from us doing so.’
Anne was a large, solidly built, jovial woman, and when she laughed, as she was doing now, her whole body seemed to shake with good-natured mirth.
‘All the credit doesn’t lie with me,’ Sergeant Dawson responded with his own smile, tactfully avoiding her reference to Nancy, much to Olive’s relief. ‘I had two very able pupils.’
‘Oh, excuse me, will you, please,’ Anne stopped him. ‘Only I’ve just seen Vera Stands and I need to have a word with her about the church flower rota.’ With another smile she strode off, leaving Olive on her own with the sergeant and no ready excuse to take her own leave. She was about to ask politely if the Dawsons had had a good Christmas and then just in time she remembered that the sergeant had once told her that Christmas was naturallya very difficult time for them both, but especially for his wife, because of the loss of their son.
Instead, she asked him, ‘Is it definitely all official now, I mean about you and Mrs Dawson taking Barney in?’
‘Yes. He had to spend Christmas in a children’s home outside the city, much to his disgust, but he’ll be coming to us in time for the new school term. Mrs Dawson’s been getting his room ready for him. She’s had me giving it a coat of distemper to freshen it up a bit.’ A rueful look crossed the sergeant’s face. ‘I just hope that she isn’t going to spoil him too much.’
Olive could tell from both his expression and the sound of his voice how much the sergeant was looking forward to Barney’s arrival.
‘Oh, and there’s something I ought to tell you,’ he continued. ‘It’s about Reg Baxter and that vacancy there was going to be at the ARP station, the one that I thought you should put your name forward for?’
Olive nodded. She’d felt both surprised and a bit overwhelmed when Sergeant Dawson had suggested that she volunteer to fill a vacancy at their local ARP unit, but the
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