Tin Hats and Gas Masks

Tin Hats and Gas Masks by Joan Moules

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Authors: Joan Moules
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telegram the day before.…’
    He fancied he could hear his own voice again. ‘But on the phone you said you could.’
    ‘I said I would try, Johnny, that I’d do me best. And I did try, but I’m working all hours now, you’ve got to remember that. There is a war on you know. Anyway, what’s so special about this Annie?’
    ‘Aw, nothing really. Just that it’s her birthday on Monday and she ain’t never had a birthday-cake of her own.’
    ‘What you never have you never miss. Still, it was a nice idea, Johnny. Here, buy her some fancy cakes or something.’ She pressed two half-crowns into his hand. ‘You can get yourself something you want with the rest.’
    He woke early on Sunday morning, crept downstairs and made a pot of tea for Mr and Mrs Dover. He found the tray and the biscuit-tin, took out four biscuits and carefully laid them in the saucers. Then, with a steady hand, he poured the tea.
    He placed the tray on the floor outside their bedroom door. He knocked loudly, turned the handle, then quickly bent down to pick up the tray again.
    He knew Mrs Dover had plenty of cooking-stuff. ‘I’ve always kept a good larder,’ he had heard her boasting to friends on the telephone not so long ago when she invited them over for a meal, ‘so I’m well in hand with my rations.’
    He would offer to get the breakfast too, and afterwards, maybe he’d even wash up for good measure, then he would ask her again if she would make a proper birthday-cake for Annie.
    With the tray in his hands and his eyes watching the ground he entered the room, and tripped over the realistic-looking tiger-mat by the bed. With the crash of china echoing round him, and the tea and soggy biscuits soaking into the pink carpet, Johnny knew his efforts would all be in vain.
    Mr Dover was cross and irritable over the incident, but his wife, to Johnny’s delighted surprise, was not only reasonable, but seemed pleased.
    ‘Not pleased that I had spilt the blooming stuff all over the bedroom carpet,’ he said to Annie later, ‘but that I’d bothered to make it for them.’
    ‘Shouldn’t think Mr Dover ever lifts a finger to help,’ was Annie’s comment.
    Taking advantage of his current stock of goodwill, Johnny went through to the kitchen later in the morning when Annie was deeply engrossed in her book.
    ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ he asked Mrs Dover.
    ‘No, I don’t think so, Johnny.’
    ‘I was always quite useful to me mum at home.’
    ‘I’m sure you were, son, but you know I’ve two childrenof my own, grown-up now of course, well, you met Alison at Christmas. Anyway I learnt a few of the ways of children when they were young and I’ve not completely forgotten. So, tell me now what is it you want?’
    ‘Gosh, you’re OK, you are,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll put me cards on the table. I want Annie to have a birthday-cake tomorrow when she comes in from school.’
    ‘Johnny, I thought we had been through all that.’
    ‘It needn’t be posh. Just a cake with her name on. And happy birthday,’ he added.
    ‘I told you I’ll get some fancies.’
    ‘You can have them anytime – well almost anytime.’
    She was silent for so long Johnny thought he had lost the day, then she said, ‘Would a sponge do?’
    ‘Can it be iced?’
    She sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I’m not promising, mind. We don’t get any more rations in the country than they do in the cities, except maybe eggs, which will help, but we’ll see. Now off you go, and try not to antagonize Mr Dover any more today, will you, Johnny?’
    He skipped out of the kitchen, then, on impulse rushed back, almost knocking Mrs Dover over.
    ‘I just remembered. I can give you some money towards the stuff, the ingredients. If you say what they come to.’
    ‘They won’t cost too much, don’t you worry about that. Now, out of the way, I’ve a Sunday dinner to cook, young man.’
    Johnny was on his best behaviour for the rest of the day. He even did

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