by Lou Kuenzler
The funeral is tomorrow. I know I shall weep buckets.
So sorry to miss you again. I love you, my darling
More soon.
F xoxo
P.S: Love to Pete and Roberta (I hope she isn’t being TOO strict!)
P.P.S: Sorry so glum. Will send more news next time. And maybe even a birthday visit if I can get leave – but promise not to hold your breath, sweetheart.
xoxo
Edie folded the letter into a tiny, tight little square, no bigger than a postage stamp. The sad note had made her feel so helpless. She was cross and miserable and tired. She wanted to scream and punch the wall.
“This bloody war! I hate it,” she said. “This bloody, bloody war!”
She had been so wrapped up in her letter, she had forgotten Greta was there. The little girl gasped and her mouth fell open in surprise.
“You said a bad word!”
“I know,” said Edie quickly. “I didn’t mean it. I’m just … tired.” She couldn’t explain how she really felt. Sort of hollow inside – and not just because she hadn’t eaten anything, but because of poor Belinda Barton-Withers and Fliss not coming and the plane crash too.
“Tired?” Greta snorted. “You can’t be tired. You’ve already slept for… ” She was holding up her fingers again and starting to count.
“Three days!” said Edie. “I know!” And she smiled. It was impossible to stay sad or cross for long with Greta around. “You don’t know what the date is, do you?” She’d been asleep for so long, she couldn’t quite work it out. Her birthday was on the twenty-third of the month; it must be only a few days now.
“Tuesday,” said Greta. “No … Wednesday, I think.”
“Not the day,” laughed Edie. “The date.”
“It’s the twentieth.” Gus appeared in the doorway, clutching a tray with toast and tea. “I thought I heard your voice. Are you feeling better?”
“Much better,” said Edie. But all thoughts of any birthday celebrations went out of her head the moment she saw Gus. All she could think about was the young German, and how they had let an enemy airman escape.
“Have they found him?” she whispered as Gus handed her the tray and perched on the edge of the bed.
“Found who?” said Greta.
“No one,” said Gus and Edie, quickly. And as Edie took a sip of the hot sweet tea, Gus bustled Greta out of the door.
“I think the Twiglets are hungry,” he said. “Colonel Crowther just delivered a whole new churn of scraps. You ought to go down and see if Uncle Peter needs help feeding them.”
“I want to stay with Edie,” Greta whined.
“I’ve got my breakfast to eat. Those poor Twiglets must be starving,” said Edie, through a mouthful of hot toast and sweet blackberry jam. It really was delicious after having an empty tummy for so long, even though there wasn’t any butter, of course. You couldn’t have butter and jam – not with the war on. Not even in the country.
“All right!” Greta hurried to the door. “I’ll go and feed my Twiglets, but I’m coming right back.”
“Good idea. I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to,” said Edie. “Send the Twiglets my love… ”
They listened as she scampered away down the stairs.
Gus pushed the door closed with his foot.
“Go on, tell me,” said Edie, cradling her warm mug of tea.
“There are four crew on a Junkers plane,” Gus began to explain. “A pilot, an observer, a wireless operator and a gunner.”
“Yes. But what about our one?” said Edie impatiently. “What happened to him?”
“I think they must’ve caught him,” said Gus. “I heard Colonel Crowther telling Uncle Peter just now. He said there were at least two bodies in the wreckage and a Home Guard unit a couple of miles the other side of Stacklepoole found a German airman trying to steal a pail of milk from a dairy. And there’s talk of another stowing away on a train as far as Leeds, but there’ve been so many rumours the last few days, it’s been hard to keep up.”
“And what’ll they do with them now they’ve caught them?” said Edie, remembering Len Snigson’s terrible boast to skin any enemy airmen alive.
“Colonel Crowther says they’ll be sent to a prisoner-of-war camp,” Gus explained. “They won’t be harmed. The Germans do the same with captured British airman. Both sides will release them all at the end of the war.”
“Well, that’s not so bad,” said Edie. At least their young airman would be safe now. Thank goodness fair-minded men like Colonel Crowther were in charge of the Home Guard, not bullies like Donny and Len Snigson.
“Easy for you to say!” Gus kicked at the skirting board. “You’re not the one penned in behind barbed wire, living in a chicken hutch for the next ten years… ”
“Ten years?” said Edie. “I’m sure the war won’t go on that long.”
But Gus seemed suddenly furious. He snatched the tray with her empty breakfast things. “I better get these washed up. Aunt Roberta’s gone to work and Maisie’s off with the flu.” He stomped away down the stairs.
“Wait! What’s wrong?” Edie called after him, but there was no reply. She lay back on her pillow and sighed. She couldn’t work out what he was upset about at all. He was so odd and moody sometimes. He ought to be pleased. If their airman had been safely captured – and it sounded as if he had – then at least the terrible unpatriotic lie they had told about not seeing him didn’t matter so much any more. No harm had been done.
Edie spent the rest of the morning sitting up in bed, cutting strings of paper dolls from an old newspaper with Greta. At lunchtime, Aunt Roberta came home to check on her.
She brought her a bowl of strong beef tea made with a piece of meat donated by the butcher. Not quite the steak he had promised, but good enough to boil. “It will build your strength up,” said Aunt Roberta. “And no running around for another day or two either.” Then she sat on the end of the bed and told Edie how she used to love to play at being nurse when she was a little girl. “Mother got sick when we first came to Three Chimneys and the doctor always encouraged beef tea.”
“Do you think that’s why you decided to be a real nurse when you grew up?” asked Edie.
“I do like feeling useful,” said Aunt Roberta. “I knew I wanted to train properly as soon as the Great War came along. All the boys I knew, like Peter – and our friend Jim – were going off to fight. I wanted to be able to do something too. To help them when they were injured. One heard such terrible stories.”
“Weren’t you very afraid?” asked Edie. She too had heard terrible stories about that war and knew the nurses had to work close to the fierce fighting in the trenches.
“I was terrified,” said Aunt Roberta truthfully. “We were often up to our knees in thick mud with no electric light and very little medicine to help the wounded men. But it was better to be afraid and doing something than just to be afraid. Think about what you did when you saved the train. I am sure you were frightened.”
“I was,” agreed Edie. When she closed her eyes, she could still see the roaring train, thundering towards her. She could almost smell the smoke.
“And yet,” said Aunt Roberta, “it would have been far worse just to stand and watch.”
Edie nodded. It was true. “I think that’s how Fliss feels about flying,” she said. “She knows her job is dangerous. But she has to do her bit.”
“Hmm.” Aunt Roberta stood up. “I suppose so,” she said. But her mood had changed instantly, as if a switch had been flicked.
“And she drove an ambulance in the last war,” said Edie, suddenly feeling like she had to leap to Fliss’s defence.
“That was different,” said Aunt Roberta. “You weren’t born then. She should have thought about that.”
“What do you mean?” said Edie. Her chest felt tight. It had been so long since she had seen that look of disapproval on Aunt Roberta’s face – but her forehead was deeply creased and the frown between her eyebrows w
as back.
“A baby is a very big responsibility,” she sighed. “Fliss was on her own. All I’m saying is that she ought to have thought about that before she… ”
“No!” Edie cut her off. “I don’t want to talk about this any more,” she said. “I’m tired.”
She knew what Aunt Roberta was going to say and she couldn’t bear to hear it. She was going to say Fliss should have thought before she had a baby on her own. Edie turned her face to the wall. She’d felt as if she’d grown so close to Aunt Roberta since she had come here, but all that made no difference in the end – Aunt Roberta still thought it would have been better if she hadn’t been born at all.
“Edie?” Aunt Roberta touched her shoulder. “What’s wrong?” But Edie shrugged her off.
“I’m tired,” she whispered again, and she lay still under the hot heavy blankets until she heard Aunt Roberta leave the room.
As soon as she was gone, Edie threw back the covers. She got out of bed and flung open the window. She breathed in great gulps of fresh air. It had been a bad day. First Gus had got upset, although she still couldn’t understand why. And now this with Aunt Roberta – was that how she really felt? That Fliss should never have had a baby at all?
“I don’t care,” said Edie, flopping back on to the bed. “I don’t care what anyone thinks.”
But she wished more than ever that she could see Fliss and be wrapped in a tight hug by her mother.
Chapter Sixteen
A Happy Birthday
By the next day, Edie felt a little better. The last of her aches and pains had gone and her spirits had lifted too. Neither she nor Aunt Roberta mentioned their conversation again.
“Just take one day at a time, and don’t overdo things,” Aunt Roberta said, kissing her warmly before she went to work.
“Yes, nurse!” Edie frowned thoughtfully, wondering if she’d got it all wrong. How could someone so kind and caring disapprove of something so much that they would fall out with their own sister?
“And not too much rich food for a while, either,” said Aunt Roberta, climbing on to her bicycle.
Edie was soon allowed out and about again though, and by the time the morning of her birthday came around, she had almost forgotten she had been poorly at all.
She remembered how Fliss had begged her not to get her hopes up for a visit this time, so she decided that is exactly what she would do.
“If I don’t have high hopes, they can’t be dashed,” she explained to Perky, who had come up early that morning to deliver the post to Three Chimneys.
Edie was sure she had seen more than one letter in his hand when he came through the door, but when she looked down at the kitchen table, there was only one of Uncle Peter’s big brown envelopes with MOST SECRET written across the top.
She took a deep breath and battled with herself not to be disappointed – although she had been sure Fliss would have sent a card at least. It seemed everyone had forgotten it was her birthday. Uncle Peter was out in the vegetable patch, and Aunt Roberta was clattering around in the larder. Even Greta seemed to be busy with something outside, and Gus was making a pan of boiled eggs on the range.
Secretly, Edie had hoped there might be some sort of special birthday breakfast. It wasn’t that she wanted a big fuss… Again she tried to fight down the rising feeling of disappointment. It was bound to be tricky to do anything much with the war on. Everyone was so busy and everything was in such short supply. Although they could grow their own food here, rations had to be shared fairly with people in the cities and towns.
Even so, she couldn’t help thinking of the glorious birthday feasts she and Fliss used to have before the war broke out. They always went to Patisserie Valerie in Soho, a little cafe just around the corner from the flat. Fliss ordered coffee and Edie strawberry-flavoured milk and they both devoured huge slices of gooey Belgian chocolate cake with cream. This morning it looked as if she would have to make do with a boiled egg.
“Come on. Let’s go for a walk,” cried Perky, pulling her chair away as she tried to sit down.
“Now?” asked Edie in surprise. It looked as if she wasn’t going to get any breakfast at all. He was practically dragging her to the door.
“Good idea,” said Gus. “I’d come too, but I’ve got a Latin paper to do.”
“Really?” Edie was amazed. Neither she nor Gus had been given any homework for ages. They’d barely even had a lesson for weeks – Aunt Roberta was busier than ever at the hospital and Uncle Peter was out digging in the garden from dawn to dusk, making the most of the good weather.
“It’s time to start pulling my socks up and working hard, if I’m going back to school in September,” said Gus.
“Fine.” Edie gave in with a sigh. If that’s how he felt, she’d leave him to it. She might as well go for a walk with Perky after all. “Save me a hard-boiled egg for later. I’ll eat it cold,” she said. Some birthday this had turned out to be.
Even Greta didn’t bother to say good morning. Edie saw her scuttling away with a little basket behind the hen house as they ran off across the meadow.
“Shall we go and have a gander at where they’re mending the line after the plane crash?” asked Perky.
“All right,” agreed Edie. She had thought she wouldn’t ever want to go anywhere near the place where they’d had to save the train, but she found she was curious to see it.
As they came to the top of the bank and looked down, she saw a large group of men working with shovels and picks on the rails. They were singing a loud, throaty song as they mended the line.
“Italians!” said Perky knowledgeably.
“Italians?” echoed Edie. Under Mussolini’s rule, they were Britain’s enemies, fighting alongside Hitler. “What are they doing here in Yorkshire?”
“Prisoners of war,” said Perky. “Didn’t you know? There’s a big POW camp on the old racecourse outside Maidbridge. The government gets them to do work like this while our men are away fighting.”
Edie watched as the prisoners shifted earth with their shovels and shored up the tracks. They were still singing with all their hearts and laughing too, even though Edie now noticed there was a guard with a rifle overseeing them. He was smiling and nodding his head as the Italians sang.
“There’s no trains coming back through yet. They’ve had to divert them all to Maidbridge,” explained Perky. “They’ll have the whole lot shipshape again by tomorrow morning, first thing.” There was no sign of the wreckage from the plane and new track had been laid too. “You’ve got to have the railways running in wartime, see.”
“I suppose so,” agreed Edie, remembering the Dark Demon speeding through the night with its cargo of weapons. The station was always busy with farmers too, loading essential supplies of food on to the trains so that people as far away as London, Liverpool or Leeds could have bacon, eggs, fresh milk and veg.
“Hitler would love to bring the railways to a standstill,” said Perky. “Without trains the whole bloomin’ country would grind to a halt.”
Edie giggled. She knew he was making a serious point but he was starting to sound like the old men from the village who sat smoking their pipes and drinking pints of beer on the towpath outside the Rose and Crown. They were always predicting what would “bring the whole bloomin’ country to a halt”.
“If you’re going to be like that, I reckon we can go home,” said Perky.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. Not really,” said Edie.
But Perky was already charging back up the meadow. “Come on! They should be ready for you by now.”
“Ready for what?” shouted Edie. But Perky had bolted like a hare.
By the time Edie reached Three Chimneys, it was clear that something was afoot. She couldn’t help smiling as Greta was poking her nose out of the kitchen door and giggling.
“Go away,” she said. “We don’t want you yet.”
“Reckon I brought you back a little early,” said Perky, looking sheepish
and ducking inside.
“Go for a walk in the garden or something,” said Gus, and the kitchen door was shut firmly in Edie’s face.
As she wandered around the back of the house, she had a very odd feeling – a little out of sorts, yet excited all at the same time. She knew now, without a doubt, that whatever they were up to was for her benefit. But she still couldn’t help feeling a little lonely and left out. She was just thinking how nice it would be to be allowed to help with the preparations for her own birthday, when Uncle Peter waved to her from his workshop in the stable yard.
“Poor Edie, are you an outcast?” he asked, pulling up a stool for her beside his tool bench.
“I’m afraid so.” She smiled and felt better already. She loved coming into the stable workshop with its smell of copper polish and old leather. It was like an Aladdin’s cave of long-forgotten treasure from the railways. The gentle tick of mended station clocks hummed in the air. In the corner beneath the hayrack where the horses used to eat, a pot-bellied stove from a platform waiting room was lying with its clawed feet in the air like a sleepy dragon.
Edie wondered if Uncle Peter knew about the abandoned dining car on the siding by the tunnel. She would have loved to tell him about it so he could restore it to its former glory – perhaps they could work on it together. But she knew the boys would never forgive her if she gave away the location of their HQ.
Instead, she picked up a pretty railway lantern that was sitting in the middle of the bench. It was about the size of the battered old kettle they boiled on the kitchen range to make tea, but it was much shinier. The brightly burnished copper had been rubbed and polished until it shone like gold. It reminded Edie of a miniature lighthouse with a little door to kindle the lamp and glass windows all around.
She was just turning the lantern over in her hands to admire it, when she saw a luggage label tied to the handle:
To Edie – Happy Birthday.
Much love, Uncle Peter.
“Oh!” Edie blushed. She felt her cheeks burning brighter than the polished copper. “Is it really for me?”