Peggy's Letters (5 page)

Between us, Mum and I feed Tommy, get him dressed and clean up the mess. Grandad just stands around grumbling. I don't bother to listen anymore. We'll soon be gone and he can go back to being all by himself in his gloomy house.

Mum closes the front door behind us. “Today has to get better,” she says. “It can't possibly get any worse.”

I'm not sure about that. I give Tommy a kiss.

“Mm…Mm…Mm…” Tommy blows me back a dozen kisses and waves both hands.

“Bye, Mum. Good luck,” I say, although if Mrs. Mashman has found out about me and Spud playing hooky, I'll be the one needing the luck.

“Bye, luv. Don't forget to pick up Tommy.”

“I won't.”

There's no avoiding Mrs. Mashman. She's standing by the gate.

“Wait outside my office,” she booms as soon as I am within hearing range.

Spud's already there sitting on a bench outside her door. “Hello,” he says and slides to the other end to make room for me. He gives me a grin, but it's not a very big grin.

The seat is hard. A lump grows inside me as the hands of the office clock move to the top. How can ten minutes take so long? Then I hear Mrs. Mashman's footsteps and wish for another ten minutes.

“In my office, Peggy Fisher.”

I think I'm going to be sick.

The lecture goes on and on. Because I'm new, it's a whole week of detention after
school. Starting today. Mrs. Mashman sends me back to my class and calls Spud in.

My steps clatter down the corridor and slow as I near the classroom door. I can't stay after school. I have to pick up Tommy. I turn back to the office, my brain searching for the best words to explain the Tommy thing.

Spud is coming out of her office. He's blowing on the palms of his hands.

“You got the strap?”

“Didn't hurt,” he says.

I don't believe him. How can I talk to Mrs. Mashman now? She's an ogre.

“I got a week's detention after school, but I have to mind Tommy.”

“Wouldn't skip detention if I was you,” says Spud, putting on another performance of blowing on his hands.

“What am I going to do?”

We're nearly at my classroom door.

“I could fetch him for you,” offers Spud.

“Could you? Oh, I don't know. Last time I left Tommy with someone else, my Mum was really angry.”

“I'll pick him up and come back to meet you. No one will know.”

I like Spud. If only he wasn't always getting into trouble. I don't know what to do.

“Okay,” I say reluctantly. I have no choice. “Remember to clip him into his pram, then come straight back here. Promise you won't go anywhere else.”

“I promise, I promise.”

“It'll just be for today. I'll sort something out for tomorrow.” I don't know what though.

My cutting school has a strange effect on the rest of the class. Suddenly I'm not invisible. Annie says hello and shows me where we are up to in our English book.

“You're dead brave taking off like that. I'd never have the nerve,” she whispers.

The girl behind taps me on the shoulder and gives me her spare pencil. “My name's Doreen,” she says. “I bet Mashman gave it to you?”

“I'm never ever doing it again,” I tell her.

At recess Elsie asks me to come and join in the skipping.

Spud gives me a wave from the other side of the playground. I'd go over and talk to him, but it's my turn to jump in.

School is over. Only Mrs Bottomly and I are left in the classroom. I go over to the blackboard and pick up a piece of chalk. Mrs. Bottomly smiles at me from her desk.

“Best get started, dear,” she says. She doesn't seem to mind that I have made her stay late too.

I write I MUST NOT LEAVE THE SCHOOL PREMISES WITHOUT PERMISSION on the board. Then I write it again underneath. With every line, my worry about Tommy grows. Whatever was I thinking? Mrs. Jones isn't going to give Tommy to some strange boy. By the time I reach the bottom of the board, two fat tears have rolled down my cheeks.

“A few lines are nothing to cry about,” says Mrs. Bottomly.

“It's not the lines,” I sob. “I was meant to pick up my baby brother after school.
Spud says he'll get Tommy and come and meet me. But he doesn't know Tommy, and Mrs Jones doesn't know Spud.”

I'm sure Mrs. Bottomly doesn't know what I'm going on about, but she stands up and takes the chalk out of my hand. “Go fetch your brother,” she says. “You can do your lines in the lunch hour.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Bottomly”

“You only had to ask, dear,” she says. “Now off you go.”

Still sniffing, I grab my coat, my bag, my gas mask and run as fast as I can out of the school, across the playground, over the road, round the corner, on and on. I arrive at Mrs. Jones' house just as she's opening the door to Spud. She looks surprised to see Spud standing there but smiles when she sees me running up the path.

“Sorry I'm late Mrs. Jones,” I pant. “This is my friend, Spud.” Before our introductions are complete, Tommy comes bouncing down the hall and leaps into my arms.

“'Bin as good as gold,” says Mrs Jones. She buttons up Tommy's coat and helps me strap him into the pram. “See you tomorrow, darlin'.” Tommy blows his good-bye kisses, and we turn to go.

“Thought I was picking him up,” says Spud.

“Bottomly says I can write the lines in the lunch hour.”

“Oh.”

“Thanks for helping me out and everything.”

“That's okay,” says Spud.

“We could do something. As long as we take Tommy along.”

“Naw,” says Spud. “Don't really like babies.” He puts his hands in his pockets and walks off.

The late afternoon sun pokes through the clouds as I push Tommy home. Today wasn't nearly as bad as I imagined. Grandad is in a good mood, and when Mum comes in I can tell by her face that making parachutes is a lot more fun than staying at home with Grandad.

“Are you asleep?” she asks softly, when we are both in bed.

“Not yet.”

“I fold the parachutes,” she says. “It's awfully important to do it right.”

“Is it?” I'm too sleepy to talk, but I like listening.

“The other girls are ever so nice.”

I drift off to sleep listening to the contented purr of Mum's voice as she talks about her day in the factory.

Dear Dad

Mum loves her job. But there's such a hullabaloo in the mornings that Grandad has decided to stay in bed until we are all out of the house.

Straight after school I pick up Tommy and look after him until Mum gets home. I don't mind. It's not like I have a best friend. Well not one who lives near. I like Annie, but she's already best friends with Doreen. Spud's fun too, but you can't be best friends with a boy. I'm glad Mum's happy, but I do miss our after-school chats.

Love, Peggy

It's Friday at last. The afternoon bell rings just as I am writing my five hundredth I MUST NOT LEAVE THE SCHOOL PREMISES WITHOUT PERMISSION. I put the chalk down and smile at Mrs. Bottomly. We've almost become friends during the week. I've told her all about Tommy, and Mum's job and how hard it is living in Grandad's house. Her son is in the Navy, just like Dad, but he's lost at sea. Did Dad get lost?

“Five hundred boring lines. I wish Mrs. Mashman had given me something interesting to write about.”

“Such as?” asks Mrs Bottomly.

“Oh I don't know, anything.”

“I used to write a few articles for a small newspaper,” says Mrs. Bottomly, blushing slightly.

“Did you?” I'm surprised. I can't picture Mrs Bottomly doing something exciting like being a reporter.

“I was much younger of course, but it was so much fun.” She walks over to the blackboard, picks up the eraser and starts cleaning the board. Puffs of chalk dust dance in the sunlight streams.

“Why did you stop?”

“Being a teacher was a more appropriate job for a woman. I never liked teaching though. Only came back because there is such a shortage of teachers with every one doing war work.”

“I think it's a shame that you couldn't do what you wanted.”

Mrs. Bottomly smiles at me. “I know, dear, but times are changing for women.”

The rest of the class pours in. I take my seat, ready for another noisy afternoon. “I wonder what mood Grandad's in, today,”
I say to Tommy, on the way home after school. I lift him on to the ground and bump the pram into the shed. Before I can close the shed door, Tommy's taken off up the garden path.

“Come back here, little rascal.” Tommy looks back, waiting for me to chase him. He bursts into giggles when I catch him.

“Hello, Grandad,” I call from the back door. “Any letters for me today?” There never are, but I always ask.

“On the hall table,” says Grandad. “Don't forget to wipe your shoes on the mat.”

“There is a letter!” My heart misses a beat as I pick up the envelope. I immediately recognize Nora's handwriting.

“Thanks, Grandad!” I give him a kiss, which I haven't done since I was little.

He smiles and takes Tommy's hand. “You come along with me, young fellow. Your sister's got a letter to read.”

I take the stairs two at a time, climb over to my bed, get comfy against the wall and open my letter. My eyes prickle as I read about all the goings-on in my old school.
It seems so long ago that I sat in my desk next to Nora, passing notes and planning what to do at the weekend.

Strange Tommy noises are seeping through the floorboards. I tuck the letter under my pillow and go downstairs to investigate.

Tommy is sitting on Grandad's knee, and they're both growling at a picture of a tiger in a wild animal book. Grandad turns the page, and the growl changes to a roar.

“Can I join in,” I growl. Tommy shakes his tiny claws at me, and Grandad laughs a deep hearty laugh. I think he's beginning to like having us around.

“Time to peel some potatoes,” says Grandad, closing the book. “I spent two hours queuing for some minced beef this morning. Thought we'd make a shepherd's pie for our tea. Make a change from Spam.”

There's not much meat. The shepherd's pie is nearly all potatoes and onions, but it smells good bubbling away in the oven.
I can't wait for Mum to get home so that I can show her my letter.

We hear the key turn in the lock, and I follow a giggly tiger to the front door.

“Mum…” I say, but the rest of my sentence vanishes. Mum is wearing a pair of dark blue trousers. They look just like a man's.

“What an earth have you got on?” thunders Grandad from the kitchen door.

“Lots of women wear trousers these days,” says Mum. Her voice wavers. “They are much more practical than working in a dress.”

Grandad doesn't listen. He turns his back on Mum and stomps back to the kitchen. His happy mood has vanished.

“What do you think, Peggy?” asks Mum.

“I think you've spoilt everything. We were getting along fine until you came home.” I push past her to the stairs, stamp up to the bedroom and slam the door.

Just when it's beginning to feel like home, everything gets ruined. I look at
the
Home Is Where the Heart Is
sampler on the wall. My heart is definitely not here. Why did Mum have to go and make Grandad angry? And why is Grandad always bossing Mum about? I'm mad at both of them.

Tears try to squeeze out of my eyes, but I blink them away. I'm not going to cry. And I'm not going downstairs. A hungry growl gurgles round my stomach. And I'm not going to eat my tea, even if Mum brings it up to me on a tray. In fact, I'm never going to talk to either of them ever again. It's all the fault of those stupid trousers.

Suddenly I want to laugh. I imagine the trousers standing at the blackboard writing I MUST NOT UPSET THE FISHER FAMILY one hundred times. I'm sure Dad wouldn't mind Mum wearing trousers. He'd like her whatever she wore.

I hear Mum's footsteps on the stairs. She comes into the bedroom. Her face looks sad as she takes off the trousers and puts on a skirt.

“Mum.”

She glances over at me.

“Aren't you going to wear your trousers anymore?”

“Of course I am,” she says, defiantly. “Everything is changing, Peggy and women are changing faster than anything else.”

Funny, that's what Mrs. Bottomly said.

“I'm sorry, Mum. You look really nice in trousers.” We hug and make up.

“Want to see my letter from Nora?”

“Christmas in two weeks!” she exclaims as she reads the letter. “There's been so much going on I've lost track of the days.”

“Can I visit Nora, Mum? Oh, please say yes.”

“We'll see.”

Dear Dad

Some days are good, and some days are bad. But everything is changing. Sometimes the whole world seems upside down. Mum goes out to work, and Grandad
stays at home doing the shopping and cooking. He complains that the queues for food are getting longer, but I think he likes chatting to everybody while he waits to be served. He's not a bad cook, but we do have a lot of Spam fritters and fish paste sandwiches. All the vegetables he grew in his Victory garden are gone. If we hadn't been staying here they would have lasted him all winter.

I just want two things for Christmas. A pair of trousers and a visit from Nora.

Love, Peggy

As we take out our books on Monday morning, the dreaded footsteps come tapping down the corridor.

“It's Mashman,” warns Annie, madly opening her books.

The boys in the back row jump into their seats just as the door flies open. Mrs. Mashman marches in, followed by three girls and Spud. “We're going to have to make do with one less teacher, Mrs Bottomly, so I'm changing the classes round again. Here are four new pupils for you: Stanley, Thelma, Ivy and Alice.”