was able to express them freely and without embarrassment.
This was one of those moments, and Jess felt her eyes fill with tears as she watched her husband and eldest child hold
each other closely. And she felt a sharp poignancy and a deep sadness that it took a war, sometimes, to bring people as close as they ought to be to one another. That eleven people had to die before Frank’s eyes before he could hold his daughter in his arms and stroke her hair.
37
CHAPTER THREE
‘Mind you don’t go too far away, now. I don’t want to have to go looking for you again if there’s another raid.’
Jess looked at her sons with some misgivings. After last night, she was half afraid to let them out, but it was impossible to keep them indoors on such a fine morning.
‘We’ll be all right, Mum.’
Tim and Keith hopped from foot to foot. They had been awake early, gazing out of their bedroom window over the allotments, talking about the raid. It was nothing but a game to them. They hadn’t seen what Frank had seen, nor did Jess want them to see such things.
‘I want them back out in the country,’ she’d said to Frank last night, after Rose had gone to bed. ‘Back out at Bridge End, where they’ll be safe.’
‘We’ll take them on Saturday,’ he agreed. ‘And you can stay there too, at Mrs Greenberry’s.’ But Jess had shaken her head. She’d liked Mrs Greenberry well enough, and loved being in the country, but she’d hated the months away from Frank when she’d gone with the first evacuation. A wife’s place was with her man, and she didn’t intend to leave him again.
Tim and Keith raced up the street, as excited as puppies let off the leash. They stopped near the end of April Grove, where the road widened and there was space for a game of
cricket. Someone had chalked stumps on the blank wall of the end house of March Street.
‘Shall I go back for the bat?’ Keith suggested, but Tim shrugged.
‘Don’t feel like cricket. I want to go exploring.’
Keith looked around. They were near their Auntie Annie’s house here and knew every inch of the three streets. He looked through the fence at the allotments. There were footpaths across them, but the boys weren’t supposed to go there unless they were going to Frank’s allotment, to take him a jug of tea or tell him dinner was ready.
‘There’s Micky,’ he said. ‘And Jimmy Cross and Cyril.’ The three boys came through a hole in the fence and joined
them. Micky was grinning.
‘What happened to you last night? Mummy make you go to bed early?’
Tim flushed. ‘We wanted to listen to the wireless.’ They hadn’t been allowed to, but Micky didn’t have to know that. `D’you want a game of cricket? We could get our bat.’
‘Cricket!’ Micky said scornfully. ‘We’ve got better things to do than play cricket. We’re going down to look at the bombs.’
‘Bombs? You mean there’s still bombs? Ones that haven’t gone off? Bet there’s not.’
‘Bet there are, then. Bet we’ll find some.’ Micky strutted cockily. ‘We’ll get ‘em for souvenirs. My mum says she’ll put ‘em of the mantelpiece if we find any.’
Not unexploded bombs. That’d be dangerous.’
‘Well, ones that have gone off, anyway. And shells and bullets and that. There’ll be all sorts down Drayton Road way. The school got bombed and hundreds of people were killed. We might find bodies.’
Tim wasn’t sure he wanted to find bodies, but the idea of shells and bomb cases was alluring. He hesitated and looked at Keith.
‘We’re not allowed to go right down Drayton Road.’
‘Mummy’s boys,’ Micky sneered. ‘Well, we’re going, ain’t we?’ Cyril and Jimmy nodded. ‘Don’t suppose we’ll have to go that far anyway. There was bombing nearer than that. Bet we’ll find all sorts of stuff.’
He turned away, and the other two boys followed him. Tim and Keith stared after them enviously.
‘I wouldn’t mind finding a few bombs,’ Tim said.
This was one of those moments, and Jess felt her eyes fill with tears as she watched her husband and eldest child hold
each other closely. And she felt a sharp poignancy and a deep sadness that it took a war, sometimes, to bring people as close as they ought to be to one another. That eleven people had to die before Frank’s eyes before he could hold his daughter in his arms and stroke her hair.
37
CHAPTER THREE
‘Mind you don’t go too far away, now. I don’t want to have to go looking for you again if there’s another raid.’
Jess looked at her sons with some misgivings. After last night, she was half afraid to let them out, but it was impossible to keep them indoors on such a fine morning.
‘We’ll be all right, Mum.’
Tim and Keith hopped from foot to foot. They had been awake early, gazing out of their bedroom window over the allotments, talking about the raid. It was nothing but a game to them. They hadn’t seen what Frank had seen, nor did Jess want them to see such things.
‘I want them back out in the country,’ she’d said to Frank last night, after Rose had gone to bed. ‘Back out at Bridge End, where they’ll be safe.’
‘We’ll take them on Saturday,’ he agreed. ‘And you can stay there too, at Mrs Greenberry’s.’ But Jess had shaken her head. She’d liked Mrs Greenberry well enough, and loved being in the country, but she’d hated the months away from Frank when she’d gone with the first evacuation. A wife’s place was with her man, and she didn’t intend to leave him again.
Tim and Keith raced up the street, as excited as puppies let off the leash. They stopped near the end of April Grove, where the road widened and there was space for a game of
cricket. Someone had chalked stumps on the blank wall of the end house of March Street.
‘Shall I go back for the bat?’ Keith suggested, but Tim shrugged.
‘Don’t feel like cricket. I want to go exploring.’
Keith looked around. They were near their Auntie Annie’s house here and knew every inch of the three streets. He looked through the fence at the allotments. There were footpaths across them, but the boys weren’t supposed to go there unless they were going to Frank’s allotment, to take him a jug of tea or tell him dinner was ready.
‘There’s Micky,’ he said. ‘And Jimmy Cross and Cyril.’ The three boys came through a hole in the fence and joined
them. Micky was grinning.
‘What happened to you last night? Mummy make you go to bed early?’
Tim flushed. ‘We wanted to listen to the wireless.’ They hadn’t been allowed to, but Micky didn’t have to know that. `D’you want a game of cricket? We could get our bat.’
‘Cricket!’ Micky said scornfully. ‘We’ve got better things to do than play cricket. We’re going down to look at the bombs.’
‘Bombs? You mean there’s still bombs? Ones that haven’t gone off? Bet there’s not.’
‘Bet there are, then. Bet we’ll find some.’ Micky strutted cockily. ‘We’ll get ‘em for souvenirs. My mum says she’ll put ‘em of the mantelpiece if we find any.’
Not unexploded bombs. That’d be dangerous.’
‘Well, ones that have gone off, anyway. And shells and bullets and that. There’ll be all sorts down Drayton Road way. The school got bombed and hundreds of people were killed. We might find bodies.’
Tim wasn’t sure he wanted to find bodies, but the idea of shells and bomb cases was alluring. He hesitated and looked at Keith.
‘We’re not allowed to go right down Drayton Road.’
‘Mummy’s boys,’ Micky sneered. ‘Well, we’re going, ain’t we?’ Cyril and Jimmy nodded. ‘Don’t suppose we’ll have to go that far anyway. There was bombing nearer than that. Bet we’ll find all sorts of stuff.’
He turned away, and the other two boys followed him. Tim and Keith stared after them enviously.
‘I wouldn’t mind finding a few bombs,’ Tim said.
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