Peggy's Letters (4 page)

I smuggle Little Women out of the house and hide it behind my math book. I've just got to the part where Jo cuts off all her hair when Mrs. Bottomly catches me. She snaps the book shut and puts it on her desk. Why is she picking on me? At least I'm quiet.

Recess. Twenty lonely minutes, leaning against the wall not skipping. My skipping rope was lost in the fire so I can't even skip by myself.

There's a tap on my shoulder.

“Hello, Peggy,” says Spud.

“Good-bye, Spud.”

“Don't be like that. I didn't know it was your house.”

“Yes, you did. I told you.”

“Well, I couldn't let anyone else get the stuff, could I?”

I'm confused. I don't know what to think. Spud's friendly and fun, but the memory of our burnt-out house and Spud treating it like it was nothing still makes me angry.

“Want to see what I found at your place?”

“If you mean bits of that bomb wing, no thanks.”

“It's not that,” he says. “It was too stuck. I got other stuff.”

“Don't believe you. Everything was burned.”

“Suit yourself,” says Spud with a shrug. He puts his hands in his pockets, turns his back on me and walks away.

Maybe he did find something.

“Spud, wait.” I run round in front of him. “What did you find? If it's from my house, it belongs to me.”

“Finders keepers,” he says with a grin.

He's so annoying, but I have to see what he found. “Go on, show me.”

“Don't be daft. I couldn't bring anything to school. I keep my finds in a secret place.”

“Show me after school, then? I promise I won't tell. “

Spud looks at me for a long minute. “We could go now,” he says.

I have never, ever, cut school in my whole life, but my curiosity can't wait. “All right.”

“Go over to the air-raid shelter and do what I do,” he says under his breath.

“What about Mashman?” I whisper back.

“Don't worry about her. She can't see over there.”

The air-raid shelter is right next to the school gate. I join up with Spud, and as soon as the duty teacher is looking the
other way, Spud nudges me. We sidle out of the playground and run round the corner out of sight of the school.

“You can stop running now,” calls Spud, slowing to a walk.

“Don't want to stop,” I yell as I overtake him. “I want to run forever.”

My feet tap the pavement as I speed along. No one has any petrol, so I don't even look before running across the roads. I run until I can't take another step. Sitting on a low wall, I gulp in air and wait for Spud. He's a long way behind. The sky is a pale winter blue, and a barrage balloon floats above me like a lazy whale.

“Look what I found,” he says when he reaches me. In his open hand are some spent bullets. “Two more for my collection.”

I roll my eyes.

“Do you often cut school?” I ask as he sits down beside me.

“Done it a few times.”

“Did you get into trouble?”

Spud shrugs.

I take it that means yes. I feel a bit funny inside and wonder if Mrs. Bottomly has noticed I'm not in class.

“Cor! Look at that,” says Spud. He stands up and points to the barrage balloon. It's moving across the sky.

“Has it broken free?”

“Don't know. Let's find out.”

With our eyes locked on the balloon, we fly around the streets, jumping over walls and leaping across potholes. Shouts and orders come from the next street. We turn the corner, and the mystery is solved. Our barrage balloon is attached to a slow-moving army lorry. It's trying hard to escape, but steel wires hold it fast.

“What you doing with the balloon?” Spud asks one of the women walking beside the lorry.

“Repositioning it to stop the Doodlebugs,” she says.

The women are in army uniform. They shout to each other as they pull on ropes and tighten wires. The balloon is not very cooperative.

“Does your Mum do war work, Spud? Mine only does mum-stuff like looking after Tommy.”

“My mum's…Ain't got a mum,” he says quickly.

“That's awful.” I can't imagine not having a mum. It's bad enough having Dad gone and no home, but no mum, that must be terrible.

“But if I did,” he continues, “she'd be driving a lorry.”

We walk in silence for a bit. “Where's your hideout?” I ask.

“It's over that way,” he says, pointing up a side road. “Come on.” Spud takes off at a run, and I race after him. I never guessed today would be so much fun.

“This is a shortcut,” says Spud, climbing over a pile of bricks and wood that was once a house. A shiver ripples through me as we scramble through the rooms. I stop in what must have been the kitchen and look up at the sky.

“Wonder what happened to them?”

“Who?”

“The family that lived in this house.”

“You're daft,” says Spud, jumping down into the street. “Are you coming or not?”

I catch up to him just as he turns down a back alley.

“Twelve, thirteen, fourteen…,” says Spud, banging each plank with a stick.

“What are you doing?”

He ignores me and keeps counting. Then he turns and looks me straight in the eye.

“This is top secret,” he says in a low voice. “You've got to swear you won't ever tell.”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Satisfied, Spud pushes apart two loose planks and squeezes through the gap. I climb after him. On the other side of the fence is a bare allotment smelling of musty leaves and old cabbages. We squelch over to a derelict shed in the far corner.

“My shrapnel collection's in here,” says Spud, taking away the piece of wood that
pretends to be the door. “What do you think of this lot, then?” He stands back so that I can look in.

The shed is crammed full of rubbish. It's up to the roof in some places. I squint into the darkness hoping like mad there'll be something I recognize. All I see are junk and cobwebs.

“Which bits came from my house?”

“Move out the way, and I'll show you,” says Spud. He steps inside. The walls sway, and the old shed looks like it will collapse on his head at any minute. When he comes out his arms are full of blackened metal.

“This did and this,” he says laying the pieces on the ground.

I can't believe my eyes. In his hand is my biscuit tin of Dad's letters. It's so black that I can't make out the puppy on the lid, but I'd know it anywhere. I want to laugh and cry and hug him, but all I do is stand there blinking like crazy.

“That's a really special tin. I thought it was gone forever.”

“Here, take it,” says Spud handing it to me. “The lid won't come off. Probably got melted on by the fire.”

“Doesn't matter.”

As I stand there staring at my tin, the hooter sounds at the munitions factory. It's two o'clock. School will be finishing soon. I suddenly realize how much trouble I'm in. My school bag, my book and my gas mask are back at school, my shoes are covered in mud, and I can't take my biscuit tin home without explaining how I got it. I feel like a popped balloon.

“What do we do now?”

“Have lunch,” says Spud, taking a squished packet from his pocket. He unwraps a Marmite sandwich and gives me half.

“Thanks.”

“Then,” he continues with his mouth full, “we'll go back to school just as everyone's coming out. It will look like we've been there all day.”

“You really have done this before, haven't you?”

Spud grins and stuffs the rest of his sandwich in his mouth.

“Will you keep my tin for me?”

“If you want,” he says and puts it back in the shed.

It all works out exactly like Spud says. We mingle in as if we'd spent all day in school.

“Bye, Peg,” calls Spud.

“See you tomorrow,” I call back.

I walk home as slowly as possible. How am I going to explain not having my stuff with me? My stomach churns at the thought of all the trouble I am in. Spud always gets me into trouble. Why did I go with him?

Mum opens the door before I'm even halfway up the path.

“Hi, Peggy. How was school? She's smiling, and her eyes look bright.

“Same as usual.”

Tommy toddles down the hall and jumps into my arms.

“Hello, Tom-Tom. Were you a good boy today?”

“The kettle's on. Hang up your coat, and then I'd like to have a little chat,” says Mum.

She must know about me cutting school. I feel awful.

“Where's your bag and your gas mask?”

“I forgot them.”

“Oh, Peggy! And look at your dress. How did it get so black?”

“Just playing,” I say looking at the floor and out the window, anywhere but at Mum.

Grandad is in the garden, so there's just us in the back room. Mum hands me a cup of tea and sits down. Her fingers fidget with her apron strings.

I decide to own up about my day off.

“Mum, I…”

“Peggy, I…”

We laugh as we both start talking at the same time.

“You go first, Mum.”

“Peggy, I've got a job in the parachute factory, starting tomorrow.”

“What!”

“The factory is looking for more workers, and the pay's good.”

My mum going out to work again. That's the last thing I expected.

“What about Tommy?” is all I can think to say.

“Mrs. Jones at Number Six is going to mind him for us. She has two little boys, and Tommy will be able to make as much noise and mess as he wants.”

“He'll like that.”

“You'll have to pick up Tommy after school and look after him until I get home. You won't mind too much, will you?”

“No. Course I won't.”

“Do you think I'm doing the right thing, Peggy? I haven't been out to work since Tommy was born. Maybe it's not such a good idea. I should stay at home.”

“Try the job, Mum. I saw some women moving a barrage balloon today. It looked like fun.”

“If it works out, maybe soon we'll be able to afford a place of our own, just you, me and Tommy,” Mum whispers.

“Really?”

She puts a finger on her lips and nods. We both smile at our secret.

Strange thumps come from behind Grandad's chair.

“What's Tommy doing?”

“Oh, no,” cries Mum.

Tommy has pulled all the books off the bottom shelf of Grandad's bookcase.

“Stop that, Tommy,” says Mum in her stern voice.

Tommy's face creases up, and he starts bawling. She moves him out of the way while I start putting the books back.

I can hear Grandad stamping the mud off his boots at the back door. I try to put the books back faster.

“Who tromped all that mud through my house?” Grandad bellows.

Oh, no! My muddy shoes.

He storms into the room and stops. His face is bright red.

“What on earth's going on here?”

“I'm sorry about this,” says Mum.

“Mind, out the way,” says Grandad, stomping over to the bookcase. “Don't you have any respect for other people's belongings?”

Grabbing Tommy round the waist, I run up to my room. The row rises through the floorboards. If I'd stayed in school, my shoes wouldn't be muddy, and the row would only have been half as bad. I hate school, and I hate living here.

“You play on the bed, Tommy. I've got to write to Dad.

Dear Dad

Tommy and I are in the bedroom hiding from another row. Everything we do upsets Grandad. Then Mum gets into trouble. It's not fair.

I wonder how many days Mum will have to work before there's enough money for
us to get our own place. I hope it will be back in our old neighborhood so that I can go to my old school with my old friends. I just want everything to be back the way it was.

Love, Peggy

I'm floating on the ocean holding a balloon-shaped cloud on a string, when everything starts rocking.

“Peggy! Peggy, wake up.” Mum is shaking me. It can't be morning already; I've only just gone to sleep.

“Peggy, get up,” says Mum again.

“I'm tired,” I whimper and turn over.

“Come on, luv. This is my first day at work. We've got to get a move on. I can't be late.”

Before she can say any more, we hear a loud yell from the kitchen.

“Someone come and look after this child,” calls Grandad.

Mum leaves me and runs down the stairs. I follow her.

“I thought you agreed last night to keep a better eye on him.”

Tommy is grinning from ear to ear. He has tipped his porridge out and is wearing the bowl on his head. I want to laugh, but I don't.

“Oh, Tommy. You naughty boy,” sighs Mum. “Get the dishcloth, Peggy. Why is this happening today?”