Keep the Home Fires Burning (36 page)

BOOK: Keep the Home Fires Burning
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‘Yeah,’ said another. ‘And talking of wage packets, ours will be cut soon if we don’t get down on the shop floor sharpish.’

She spoke sense, for by the clock on the wall it was nearly half-past seven. Before they began work every day, the boss told them, they would have to call at the nurse’s station where they’d get a small glass of brown liquid to drink, which would keep their lungs clear from the TNT they would be working with. It wasn’t pleasant but no one objected. As Phoebe said, ‘I don’t want my lungs buggered up. My dad had a dose of that in the last war.’

Sarah wondered what exactly she had let herself in for. The first thing they were shown was how
to make ‘the biscuit’, which she found was TNT and nitrate mixed together. They had to carry this mixture in hundredweights and tip it into the ferociously hot boilers, which they had to feed constantly. When it reached the right consistency it went into trays to cool down, while they started making another biscuit. The cooled cooked biscuits were then broken into pieces and put into the bomb casing, and then boiling TNT poured in so that it would fill up between the bits of biscuit inside.

It was hot, heavy and exhausting work. The girls quickly found that they could wear nothing underneath the boiler suits but their underwear, and even then often the sweat ran from them.

Sam’s letters, though, bucked Sarah up, though she could tell him nothing about her new job, but she was looking forward to Christmas when she would have the money to buy nice presents for everyone, just as long as things were getting into the shops in the first place.

She was compiling a list on the first Sunday in December, and half listening to
Variety Bandbox
on the wireless when the programme was interrupted by a new’s flash.

‘Reports are coming in of a Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, a United States naval base and home of the Pacific Fleet. The attacks were sustained and prolonged, and there are initial reports of much lost of life and destruction on a grand scale …’

The report ended and the Whittakers and their lodgers all looked at one another.

‘America will be in the war now, I’d say,’ Peggy said.

‘Can’t see how they can stay out of it,’ Marion replied. ‘Some would say about time.’

‘Yes, but I wonder how it will affect us,’ Peggy said.

‘Well, it will be an escalation, no doubt about it,’ Richard answered. ‘But on the other hand it is better to have America on our side as not, I think.’

‘Yeah, I’ll give you that,’ Peggy agreed.

‘Meanwhile,’ said Marion, trying to cut through the doleful atmosphere, ‘it is nearly Christmas and it might be Richard’s last at home for some time so I think we should all try and enjoy it, especially as it will be just us this year and our first Christmas without Tony.’

That thought sobered them all, and the Whittakers all wished that Peggy and Violet weren’t going home for Christmas. The twins in particular were very disappointed.

‘Mom said that if I don’t go home soon, she’ll forget what I look like,’ Peggy said.

‘And my eldest brother, Bobby, is eighteen just after Christmas,’ Violet said, ‘so I think I really need to be there this year.’

‘Oh,’ Sarah said. ‘Is your mother upset that your brother will be old enough to be called up?’

‘I suppose she is a bit,’ Violet said. ‘Probably
in her heart of hearts she hoped the war would be over before he was sucked into it.’

‘I think most mothers hope that,’ Richard said. ‘But the reality is every boy turned eighteen is needed.’

‘Yeah, Mom sees that. And she tells me in her letters which boys have already been called up from the village and farms around. There only seems to be young boys left at home now.’

‘I bet they’re all really looking forward to seeing you,’ Marion said.

‘I’m looking forward to seeing them too,’ Violet said, ‘for all I will miss you here.’

‘And we’ll miss you,’ Marion said. ‘This is something I’ve been thinking about for some time – when you come back, why don’t start going out again, to the pictures or dancing? I know you stopped all this when Tony died, but stopping at home is not going to bring him back and it’s more than time you all took up the threads of life again.’

‘Wouldn’t you be lonely, though, Mom if we went out?’ Sarah asked.

‘No,’ Marion said. ‘I’ll find plenty to do, don’t worry, but it would please me to see you all going out and enjoying yourselves more.’

‘All right,’ Peggy said, ‘but just for now we’ll content ourselves with going to the Christmas Dance.’

Richard allowed himself to be persuaded to accompany his sister, Violet and Peggy to the Christmas Dance on 20 December in the Albert
Hall in Chain Walk. Marion watched them all go with pride. The girls had revamped their dresses with lace, ribbons, artificial fur, pearl buttons, and even seed pearls from items of clothing Peggy and Violet had bought from a jumble sale. They had shared the stuff out and worked hard to bring a bit of glamour to tired old dresses, and they all looked so pretty when they set out.

The dance was a roaring success. Sarah knew exactly what Peggy and Violet had meant when they said that dancing to a real band was much better than dancing to records. The obvious enjoyment the smartly dressed musicians got from playing their sparkling brass instruments spurred the dancers on to greater efforts. The only problem was the terrible shortage of suitable men.

‘Richard was in great demand,’ Sarah said.

‘Yes,’ Peggy commented. ‘No one seems to care a jot about his two left feet.’

In actual fact, Richard had picked up more dancing tips than he realised from the girls, so he had no problem with the dancing that night. It had also given him the opportunity to legitimately hold some very pretty girls in his arms, though he partnered Violet in as many dances as he could and she said nothing about it because no one knew where Richard would be the following Christmas.

On Christmas Eve, Sarah received a package, the first she had ever had. She knew it was from Sam because his writing had become familiar and she
longed to open it, but Marion said she had to wait until Christmas Day, like everyone else. And so for the first time in years she was as anxious as her sisters for Christmas Day to come.

The next day, Sam’s present was the first one Sarah opened, to reveal dark red gloves, scarf and tam-o’-shanter in the softest wool.

Marion smiled as she said, ‘I knew all about Sam’s present to you, Sarah, because Peggy told me. Apparently he asked someone’s mother to knit it, and she had only dark red wool, but that didn’t matter because that will go very well with my present to you.’ And she handed Sarah a large parcel.

It was a thick fur-lined black coat, and for a moment Sarah was speechless, and so, it seemed, was everyone else around the table.

When Sarah did recover herself enough to say, ‘Ah, Mom, thank you, thank you so much,’ her voice was choked with emotion. She leaned across to give her mother a kiss as she added, ‘I’ve never had so fine a coat.’

‘It isn’t new,’ Marion said. ‘I looked for new first, for all it would have taken fourteen points, but in these days of utility clothing the winter coats are not warm enough and you need warmth the hours you’re standing waiting for trams in the winter.’

‘So where did you get it?’

‘Well, you know I helped out at the Christmas bazaar at the church?’ Marion said. ‘They had this
second-hand stall, and when I spotted the coat I knew it was just the thing for you.’

‘It’s lovely,’ Sarah said, stroking it almost reverently. ‘It doesn’t matter how bad the weather is now. ‘I’ll never feel the cold dressed up in these lovely things.’

At the same Christmas bazaar Marion had been able to buy the twins a new skipping rope each, which they badly needed since their old ones were nearly worn through. And they also had
Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,
which she said they would have to share.

After breakfast Sarah slipped away to her room to read again the back of the beautiful Christmas card from Sam that he had packed in the parcel.

I wish you a very happy Christmas, my beautiful Sarah.

I hope you like the things I sent to you.

I like to imagine that when you put them on, you will think of me.

With all my love – Sam xxx

It sent a tingle all through Sarah to read those words because he had never written with all his love before. Their letters, until the arrival of that Christmas card, had been as one friend to another, but his words had changed that a little. She could have told him that that she didn’t need to wear the things he had sent to think of him, for thoughts of him often fluttered into her mind and would
give her a feeling like butterflies in her stomach. Not that she could ever tell him these things – that would be far too forward. But she would send a letter to thank him for the lovely things he’d given her as soon as she could.

After a sumptuous Christmas dinner, Richard offered to play cards with the twins. ‘Sorry I can’t do tricks with them like Sam can,’ he said, ‘but I know a few games I could teach you.’

‘And where did you learn card games?’ Marion asked him.

‘At the air raid post. It helps pass the time if it’s quiet. They sometimes play at dinner time at work as well, but I steer well clear of that ‘cos they play for money. I work too hard for my wages to fritter it away.’

‘Quite right,’ Marion agreed. ‘Your father was never a gambler either.’

‘But it’s all right to play for a bit of fun,’ Richard said as he very professionally shuffled the pack he got out of the drawer. ‘Come on, ‘I’ll teach you rummy first.’

The twins had only ever played snap and happy families, and so were very keen on learning something new. They loved rummy, so then Richard taught them whist, brag and pontoon.

Eventually Magda said, ‘I’m bored with cards now. Isn’t it a pity that Peggy took the gramophone and records back home?’

‘It’s only fair,’ Marion said. ‘She bought it, and
maybe she thought her family would benefit from a bit of jollification over Christmas.’

‘Well, let’s have our own concert,’ Sarah said. They all just looked at her and she said, ‘Oh, come on. It’s Christmas Day and we all know something we can sing or recite, and the rest of us can join in if we know the words. Remember before we had the gramophone we used to sometimes sing in the cellar?’

‘All right,’ Marion said, entering into the spirit of it. ‘I’ll sing you a song from the Great War. I was twelve when it began and I’d been in service then for two years. The poor mistress had four sons and they all enlisted as officers, you know, and only one came back. Sometimes we’d all have a sing in the kitchen of an evening to keep our spirits up, like.’

‘Go on then, Mom,’ Sarah said encouragingly and Marion got to her feet and launched into ‘Keep the Home Fires Burning’.

The children had often heard their mom hum the song and sing a line or two, but that afternoon Marion sang it from beginning to end, wordperfect and from the heart. They all knew that she was thinking of their father so far away from his family that day. Sarah also thought of Sam and hoped wherever he was he would come home safe when the war ended.

There was spontaneous applause at the end, but Magda said, ‘Ooh, Mom, that was a sad one.’

‘So it was, Magda,’ Marion said, ‘so it’s up to Richard to cheer us all up.’

‘That’s easy,’ Richard said. ‘This is jolly enough, although it is another Great War song.’ With gusto he began, ‘Pack Up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag’.

Everyone joined in and when the song drew to a close, Sarah said, ‘I’m going to change the mood again now because I love Vera Lynn’s song “We’ll Meet Again”, but that’s sad too.’

It was a lovely song, even though it was plaintive, and it did make them all think what life might be like when the war eventually ended.

When the song was finished, Magda said, ‘I had better go last and cheer us all up again because I bet Missie will want to sing something else soppy,’ because she knew the song her sister loved.

‘“When You Wish Upon a Star” isn’t soppy,’ Missie protested. ‘How can it be? It’s from that film
Pinocchio
that Richard and Sarah went to see with Sam.’

‘That don’t mean it ain’t soppy.’

Sarah saw the doubtful look flash across Missie’s face and she said, ‘Sing it, for goodness’ sake. It is a lovely song so don’t you let yourself be browbeaten by Magda. She will get her choice after you.’

So Missie stood and sang her song, and very sweetly she did it too, and then Magda brought the concert to a close by a rousing rendition of ‘Kiss Me Goodnight, Sergeant Major’.

When she finished, Marion went into the kitchen and came out with a mug of cocoa each and a
slice of the eggless chocolate cake she had cooked for tea, and they all looked at her in surprise because generally she didn’t believe in eating between meals.

‘Now listen,’ she said. ‘This has been a lovely Christmas Day and I hate to spoil it, but your grandparents will be here in about half an hour’s time so I want you to eat that cake and drink that cocoa and wrap yourselves up warmly and then go out. It’s a fine dry day, for all it’s so cold, and your grandparents won’t stay that long because they hate going home in the pitch black in the blackout. If you stay out for about an hour or so you should be just about back in time to say goodbye to them and then I’ll do some proper tea for you when they’ve gone. How does that suit?’

It suited very well, and a walk even on a cold day was much more enjoyable than sitting in a warm room anywhere near their grandmother. They finished their cocoa and cake in doublequick time in case she came in before they left. Sarah put on her new coat, and with the gloves on her hands, the scarf around her neck and the tam-o’-shanter at a jaunty angle on her head, she was ready to be off with Missie to one side of her and Magda to another. They went to the park first, in past the deep pits dug at the edges and the furrowed rows ready to plant vegetables where there had used to be lawns and flowerbeds.

‘Let’s go down to the lake,’ Richard said, ‘cos it was frozen over before.’

The lake wasn’t fully frozen any more, though it did have great slabs of ice floating in it. ‘Look, it’s breaking up,’ Richard said, picking up a stone from the vegetable beds and hurling it at the largest ice floe. ‘It must have got warmer.’

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