The Clippie Girls by Margaret Dickinson

eased her aching feet out of her shoes, she noticed that the conductress passed by them and didn’t ask for their fares.
    ‘Don’t we pay?’ Rose whispered to her sister.
    ‘We never charge other staff and you’re one of us now.’
    Rose felt a warm glow. At last, she was a real clippie.

Seven
    At the beginning of December Rose brought home a copy of Picture Post .
    ‘Here you are, Gran, I thought you’d like to read this. The editor says we ought to spend at Christmas – not save.’
    Grace frowned, but picked up the magazine and leafed through the pages. Then she began to read. After a moment, she chuckled. ‘He’s telling you to give National Savings Certificates or War Bonds as presents.’
    ‘Read on, Gran.’ Rose grinned. ‘“Or on ordinary purchases”, he says.’
    ‘Encouraging a lot of folk, who can’t afford it, to be extravagant,’ Grace muttered. ‘Well, you’ll each get a War Bond from me, so that’s that.’
    ‘Eat, drink and be merry, that’s what I say, and show Hitler he can’t get us down.’
    It had been a strange few months in the run-up to the first Christmas of the war. Whilst hordes of children had been evacuated from London and other big cities to the safety of the countryside, the anticipated bombing had not happened, so many had drifted back home.
    ‘There, you see, I told you so,’ Myrtle had said triumphantly. ‘If you’d sent me away, I’d have been coming back by now.’ Myrtle had flatly refused to consider being evacuated. ‘It’ll interrupt my education,’ she’d argued. ‘And besides, Gran says the cellar’s safe enough.’
    But there were other things over which the family had no choice. Blackout regulations were in full force and economies were already being advised. Rationing had not yet started, but was threatened for early in the New Year.
    ‘Better make the most of it,’ Mary said. ‘We don’t know what might be happening by another Christmas.’
    ‘Oh, it’ll all be over by then,’ Rose said cheerfully.
    ‘Peggy, would you like to invite Bob and his mother to have Christmas dinner with us?’
    Before Peggy could reply Grace butted in. ‘I think you’re forgetting that this is my house and I’ll say who we invite. I don’t want a lot of strangers in and out of the house on Christmas morning. It’d be like Victoria Station. Can’t we have a bit of peace for once?’
    ‘Oh, but Mother, Bob and Mrs Deeton are all on their own. I thought it’d be nice for them – and for Peggy.’
    ‘No doubt it would,’ Grace said shortly.
    ‘And I thought we might ask Mr Bower,’ Rose put in, mischievously adding fuel to the argument. ‘He’s a widower and, from what he said yesterday, he’ll be all on his own.’
    ‘He’s got a brother, who’s a farmer in Derbyshire,’ Peggy said. ‘Someone said he usually goes there for Christmas.’
    ‘He has – but his sister-in-law is ill in hospital and he says his brother’s at his wits’ end to cope anyway without having a visitor at Christmas.’
    ‘Oh, why don’t you invite them all?’ Grace snapped. ‘What about Letty and Tom Bradshaw from next door? I’m sure Letty would love to get her nose in.’
    Rose’s mouth twitched. She knew her grandmother was being sarcastic, but, impishly, she pretended to take the old lady seriously. ‘Well, we could.’
    Grace glared at her. ‘You’ll do no such thing.’ She paused and then added, reluctantly, ‘But I suppose you can ask the others. I don’t like to hear of folks being lonely at Christmas.’
    Though she would never have admitted it, it was Grace’s biggest fear. Despite her constant grumbling about never having any peace in her house, in truth it was the last thing she wanted.
    The only person who, surprisingly, did not seem too keen on the idea was Peggy. And Rose had mixed feelings. Though she longed to be near Bob, to talk and joke with him, she knew it would be a double-edged sword. She would have to watch whilst Bob made