Bernadette in the corridor, not everyone had died in the Prince Albert. Most customers had been pulled out of the wreckage alive. But Mam, in the lavatory, in the yard where the bomb had fallen, had taken the full blast. Josie had known the very second it happened. She had felt it in her heart.
Two children had been killed. Well, the building had virtually landed on top of them. One a boy of ten, the other his sister, only two. And, would you believe, their mam, who had suffered only a few scratches, had been seen in another pub the next night, laughing fit to bust.
Sister Bernadette said that, no, she wouldn’t have believed it, ever, had she not heard it directly from Maude’s lips. But she would remember the woman in her prayers, for she was obviously more in need of God’s love than most.
‘Huh!’ Maude said disgustedly, and went on to inform the sister that the bobbies had been round to Huskisson Street looking for Josie because they’d found her identity card in her poor mam’s handbag. That was when they’d learned that Mabel was dead. The whole house was stunned. ‘The house is flats,’ Maude went on, as if it needed an explanation. ‘Quite superior flats.’
But where was Josie? Nobody knew. Lines of communication had become all tangled between the bobbies andthe rescue services. The woman from the sweetshop was somehow involved.
‘Is there someone who will take the child – a relative?’ Sister Bernadette enquired gently.
‘Well, Mabel had a sister living in Machin Street off Penny Lane. I don’t know what number. Mind you, I’m not sure if she’s fit … her husband’s a …’ Maude was becoming as tangled as the lines of communication. ‘Knowing Ivy, not that I do, mind, but from what I’ve heard, she might not take her.’ She began to sob again. ‘She’s such a lovely kid, I’d take her meself, like a shot I would. But me job wouldn’t allow it. I work these dead funny hours, see.’
‘The authorities will find her, this Ivy. They will sort everything out,’ Sister Bernadette said with quiet confidence.
The voices grew fainter as the women walked away. Josie crept over to the door and listened, because she wanted to know everything there was to know about Mam.
‘The remains … hardly recognisable. Well, you can imagine, can’t you, Sister? The girls … the other residents, that is … making a collection … couldn’t abide the thought of Mabel going to a pauper’s grave … only four and sixpence in her purse …’
Then the voices faded altogether and Josie heard no more.
Aunt Ivy was as nice as could be, almost fawning, with the woman in a green uniform who took Josie to Machin Street by car two days later. Josie had been told the woman’s name, but forgot it immediately. The sky was heavy with dark grey clouds and it was drizzling. The windscreen wipers weren’t working properly, andthe woman kept tut-tutting when she pressed buttons and nothing happened. She crouched over the wheel, trying to see through water-streaked glass.
They were expected at precisely half past two. The woman had been to see Aunt Ivy the day before to discuss Josie’s future. ‘She’s looking forward to having her pretty little niece to live with her,’ the woman said on the way. ‘She hasn’t any children of her own, so you’re all the more welcome. You’ll like her, dear. She’s very nice.’
Josie didn’t answer. Her throat felt as tight as a fist. Perhaps she would never talk again.
‘We’re turning into Machin Street, Josie. This is where you’re going to live.’
I don’t want to! She didn’t want to live anywhere if it wasn’t with Mam, particularly not in one of these red brick houses with square bay windows and sentry-box porches that made the street look like a fortress.
The car stopped. ‘Here we are.’ The woman got out. She came round and opened Josie’s door, saying kindly, ‘Don’t look so frightened, dear. I’m sure you’re going to be very happy
Two children had been killed. Well, the building had virtually landed on top of them. One a boy of ten, the other his sister, only two. And, would you believe, their mam, who had suffered only a few scratches, had been seen in another pub the next night, laughing fit to bust.
Sister Bernadette said that, no, she wouldn’t have believed it, ever, had she not heard it directly from Maude’s lips. But she would remember the woman in her prayers, for she was obviously more in need of God’s love than most.
‘Huh!’ Maude said disgustedly, and went on to inform the sister that the bobbies had been round to Huskisson Street looking for Josie because they’d found her identity card in her poor mam’s handbag. That was when they’d learned that Mabel was dead. The whole house was stunned. ‘The house is flats,’ Maude went on, as if it needed an explanation. ‘Quite superior flats.’
But where was Josie? Nobody knew. Lines of communication had become all tangled between the bobbies andthe rescue services. The woman from the sweetshop was somehow involved.
‘Is there someone who will take the child – a relative?’ Sister Bernadette enquired gently.
‘Well, Mabel had a sister living in Machin Street off Penny Lane. I don’t know what number. Mind you, I’m not sure if she’s fit … her husband’s a …’ Maude was becoming as tangled as the lines of communication. ‘Knowing Ivy, not that I do, mind, but from what I’ve heard, she might not take her.’ She began to sob again. ‘She’s such a lovely kid, I’d take her meself, like a shot I would. But me job wouldn’t allow it. I work these dead funny hours, see.’
‘The authorities will find her, this Ivy. They will sort everything out,’ Sister Bernadette said with quiet confidence.
The voices grew fainter as the women walked away. Josie crept over to the door and listened, because she wanted to know everything there was to know about Mam.
‘The remains … hardly recognisable. Well, you can imagine, can’t you, Sister? The girls … the other residents, that is … making a collection … couldn’t abide the thought of Mabel going to a pauper’s grave … only four and sixpence in her purse …’
Then the voices faded altogether and Josie heard no more.
Aunt Ivy was as nice as could be, almost fawning, with the woman in a green uniform who took Josie to Machin Street by car two days later. Josie had been told the woman’s name, but forgot it immediately. The sky was heavy with dark grey clouds and it was drizzling. The windscreen wipers weren’t working properly, andthe woman kept tut-tutting when she pressed buttons and nothing happened. She crouched over the wheel, trying to see through water-streaked glass.
They were expected at precisely half past two. The woman had been to see Aunt Ivy the day before to discuss Josie’s future. ‘She’s looking forward to having her pretty little niece to live with her,’ the woman said on the way. ‘She hasn’t any children of her own, so you’re all the more welcome. You’ll like her, dear. She’s very nice.’
Josie didn’t answer. Her throat felt as tight as a fist. Perhaps she would never talk again.
‘We’re turning into Machin Street, Josie. This is where you’re going to live.’
I don’t want to! She didn’t want to live anywhere if it wasn’t with Mam, particularly not in one of these red brick houses with square bay windows and sentry-box porches that made the street look like a fortress.
The car stopped. ‘Here we are.’ The woman got out. She came round and opened Josie’s door, saying kindly, ‘Don’t look so frightened, dear. I’m sure you’re going to be very happy
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