She watched the dial as the hands moved towards the four gallon mark, released the pressure on the trigger and allowed the last few drops of fuel to dribble into the tank. Mr Greener was still boasting to the boys so Charlotte hurried into the office and riffled through the customer accounts box to find the card she needed. Taking it out to the forecourt would hasten his departure.
Guiltily she pulled a duster from her pocket and gave his windscreen a quick polish as he signed for his fuel. The boys watched him drive away.
The elder looked at Charlotte. “D’you think I’ll own a car like that one day, Miss?”
She smiled at him. “I don’t see why not, Jack. You’ll need to work very hard at school, though.”
“If the war’s still on when I’m eighteen, I’ll have to go and fight the Germans, won’t I? I bet I’d kill dozens and dozens.”
Jack’s pal made machine gun noises, his face contorting, his hands clutching an imaginary rifle. Charlotte bit her lip, suddenly sad that these two and countless like them, lived under a dark cloud. “Let’s hope things work out so that’s not necessary, boys,” she said.
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The Fragile Hour Page 30