by Lou Kuenzler
“If you’d like it,” said Uncle Peter. “I thought it might make a change from a postal order. Something a bit more personal, now we’ve got to know each other properly at long last.”
“It’s beautiful,” gasped Edie. “Thank you.” She flung her arms around his neck. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.” Uncle Peter paused and looked down at his shoes for a moment. “You see … I thought it might be useful. I know you’ve been woken by my foolish fears in the night.”
“No… ” Edie blustered. “Not at all.”
But Uncle Peter carried on, his good eye looking her straight in the face for a moment. “I’ve heard you bumping around downstairs.”
“Only because I’m a clumsy oaf,” said Edie. “I could trip over my own bare feet in an empty room, honest I could.”
Uncle Peter smiled. “You are very kind. But I’m truly sorry about all the fuss and nonsense.” He was looking at his shoes again and Edie wanted desperately to tell him there was nothing at all to be ashamed of, but she couldn’t quite find the words.
“Trench terrors, I call them,” he said. “Just old war demons coming back to haunt me in the dark.”
“It must be horrible,” said Edie. There was no point pretending any more that she had not heard his awful haunted cries.
“There are good days and bad days,” said Uncle Peter. “It’s just this beastly war – this new one – it brings it all back.” A shadow fell over his face. Then he shook his head and picked up the lantern. “No more of that. Not today,” he said brightly. “This is a lamp of hope.”
“Yes,” whispered Edie. “It is.”
“You never know,” said Uncle Peter with a smile, “it might just stop you falling down the stairs in the blackout, should anything happen to wake you up again.”
“Perfect!” cried Edie.
“But it is only for using inside the house with the blackout curtains drawn. You mustn’t light it and take it outside after dark,” said Uncle Peter seriously. “Not even out here in the middle of the country. It’s surprisingly bright when it’s lit. It would only take one stray bomber like your Junkers from the other night. If they saw the light glowing, they might think there was a house below and drop a bomb.”
“All right,” said Edie. “I promise.”
Then Greta came tearing into the stable yard.
“We’re ready! We’re ready,” she cried. “Come now!”
Edie’s birthday breakfast was well worth the wait. The eggs which Gus had been boiling had been painted bright colours as if it was Easter, and they had been laid in a nest of soft moss, decorated with petals and pretty speckled feathers from the hens.
“I collected all the feathers myself,” said Greta proudly. “I asked the chickens first.”
Edie laughed. “It’s wonderful,” she said.
There were flowers and sprigs of herbs spelling out her name across the table and little bunches of them in jam jars on every surface in the room.
Best of all, her chair had been made into a sort of a birthday throne, decorated with trailing ivy and white cow parsley flowers like lace.
“It’s far too pretty to sit on,” she cried. “I might ruin it!”
But they all insisted and, the moment she was sitting down, Aunt Roberta appeared from the larder carrying a Victoria sponge cake with real cream and strawberry jam. Twelve candles twinkled like stars. Everyone burst into a rousing chorus of Happy Birthday.
“Go on, then. Blow out the candles,” said Perky. “You have to make a wish.”
Edie’s very first thought was to wish for Fliss to visit. But, just as she was about to blow, she realized there was something far more important than that.
Keep Fliss safe, she silently begged the birthday gods. Keep us all safe – Uncle Peter, Aunt Roberta, Gus, Greta and Perky – everybody that I love.
But, as the candles flickered out, she worried she had been a little selfish. There was one flame left, so she gave another blow: Keep everybody safe, she added desperately. And make this horrid war end quickly.
“Three Chimbleys… I mean, three cheers for Edie,” whooped Greta.
They all laughed and Perky banged a wooden spoon on the table. “Three Chimneys for Edie, hip-hip hooray!” he roared. And everybody clapped and cheered.
“Hip-hip… ”
“Hooray!”
“Hip-hip… ”
“Hooray!”
“Can I give you your present now?” asked Greta, rattling an old shoebox under her nose as Aunt Roberta cut the cake and poured Edie a glass of home-made elderflower cordial.
“Of course!” Edie beamed, wondering how she could have ever thought they would all forget her special day.
“It’s a birthday crown,” said Greta before Edie could even open the box. “I made it myself. Mr Churchill wanted to help, but the glue was too sticky.”
“Thank you,” said Edie. The cardboard crown was decorated with old sweet wrappers, yet more chicken feathers and even a string of Christmas tinsel. Greta had coloured the outside of the cardboard in with wax crayons and carefully written HapY dirThbAy Ebie xxx around the rim.
“I shall wear it for every birthday from now on, even if I live to be a-hundred-and-one years old,” promised Edie, placing the crown on her head.
There was a little pile of gifts in front of her plate too. Wrapping paper was scarce with rationing on – even newspapers were allowed to print fewer pages than they used to – so there was no special birthday paper or fresh tissue but the gifts looked bright and cheerful all the same.
Aunt Roberta had given her a lovely copy of Heidi with pictures of snow-topped Swiss mountains on the cover. It was wrapped in old Christmas paper with holly berries on it and tied up with a bright red ribbon. All in all, it looked jolly festive.
“A very dear friend gave me that book when I was a little girl,” said Aunt Roberta. “I’m glad to have someone to pass it on to now.” Edie opened the cover and saw a faded inscription in blue ink:
To Bobbie,
The best nurse in all the world.
Love from Jim – Christmas 1905.
Edie was deeply touched. It was clear the book was very special. “Thank you.”
She was about to ask who Jim was, but Aunt Roberta went on. “He and I always planned to go to Switzerland together and visit the mountains. Sadly, that never happened. Poor Jim died in the last war, like so many of the young men we used to know.”
Uncle Peter stretched out and touched her arm. Aunt Roberta smiled. “I was lucky enough to travel to Switzerland by myself when I was a little older. I took a train right across the country, all along the side of the lakes and deep under the Alps in long, dark tunnels… ” Something about the faraway look in her eyes told Edie not to ask any more questions. She knew Aunt Roberta must be thinking of her childhood friend and how he never got to make the journey for himself.
“It’s a beautiful book. I will treasure it,” she whispered, thinking how much she’d love to travel through the mountains by train one day when she was older too.
“Now,” said Aunt Roberta. “What else have you got? I can see plenty of other gifts… ”
Gus hadn’t wrapped his present, but it was a pretty little tin of colouring pencils, which looked quite smart enough all on their own.
Perky’s present was extremely neatly wrapped in crisp brown parcel paper. He had tied it all up with a big string bow, which was very professional.
“I’m good at knots,” he said, his ears going a little pink. “You have to be if you’re going to work in the post office!”
Inside was a thick, green writing book with a leather cover. “For your stories and whatnot,” he blushed. It was much bigger and grander than the little notebook she’d had from him before. “There’s only a few pages that have been ripped out of the front,” Perky explained. “Aunty Patsy used to use it for her orders and that, until she got another one with squared paper which she reckons makes it easier to keep her sums in a line.”
“Thank you,” said Edie. She couldn’t wait to fill the book with stories. “Thank you, everybody. These are the most perfect gifts I could ever have wished for … and the lantern too.”
She felt an odd tingly feeling in the bridge of her nose and pricking in her eyelids.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?” said Gus.
“No,” she said quickly.
Uncle Peter chuckled. “You’re just like brother and sister, the way you two bicker,” he said. Then he handed Edie a bulging pink envelope with Fliss’s curly writing across the front. “This came for you this morning too!”
“Ah-ha! I knew there was more than just that big, boring letter for you,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. But as she felt the weight of the envelope, she knew what it really meant. If Fliss was sending something by post, it must mean she wouldn’t be here to deliver it by hand herself. She wasn’t coming. Not today. The prickling in Edie’s eyes was back. She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to let this spoil things – Fliss had asked her to promise to be brave and she would do her very best.
She tore open the envelope and pulled out a card with a picture of the Eiffel Tower and Bon Anniversaire written in fancy gold letters across the top.
Inside was one of Fliss’s white handkerchiefs with a big red kiss in the corner – and, of course, a bar of Fry’s chocolate, which had been squashed a little flat in the post. As Edie unfolded the hankie, the room was filled with the unmistakable scent of Chanel perfume. She held it to her nose and breathed in deeply as she read Fliss’s message:
Wish, wish, wishing I could be with you today.
I am sending this little memento until I can
come myself and bring a really special gift.
I miss you so much
Love Fliss xoxo
There was no stopping the tears this time.
Gus didn’t say anything and Perky didn’t tease her either. They both put their heads down and started to shovel in big mouthfuls of cake as if they didn’t want to make eye contact at all.
“Cheer up, birthday girl!” said Aunt Roberta. Uncle Peter smiled kindly.
Greta threw her arms around Edie’s waist, burying her head in her lap. “Don’t cry,” she begged. “You’ve got chocolate now and a crown!”
“I know,” said Edie. She was half-laughing and crying all at the same time. “I’m not sad.” She wiped her eyes with Fliss’s hankie and smiled. She didn’t want anyone to think she was ungrateful, not when they had gone to so much trouble and she had such lovely gifts. “I’m happy, that’s all.” And it was true. Even though she was miles away from home, and Fliss wasn’t here, and the war had made her birthday a funny sort of thing where they had to “make do and mend” a bit, it really had been a wonderful day.
Chapter Seventeen
The Very Last Dark
Once Edie’s birthday breakfast was cleared away, Aunt Roberta had to hurry off to the hospital and Perky had to dash back to the post office to help his aunty Patsy.
The children at Three Chimneys had chores too. Gus went to water the vegetable garden and Edie and Greta set off to see to the Twiglets. They were just fluffing up some fresh straw for their bedding when Mr Hodges’ butcher’s van rattled into view. The Twiglets had grown fat and round already and, for a terrible moment, Edie thought the butcher might have come a few months early to take them away to their grisly fate.
“Glad to see you up an’ about again, young lady,” he chortled, as he climbed out of the driving seat. “Your aunt Roberta said that beef tea would do the trick.”
“I’m feeling much better, thank you,” said Edie, instinctively placing herself between the butcher and the Twiglets. But she breathed a sigh of relief as he opened the back of the van and she saw that he wasn’t coming to take them away at all. He was delivering the churns full of food scraps from the pig club.
“Colonel Crowther couldn’t run these up himself; he’s had to go to London on business of some sort,” Mr Hodges explained. “He’ll be away for a couple of days. But don’t you worry, I’ll make sure these little piggies don’t go hungry. After all, we want ’em to grow nice and plump in time for… ”
“Yes… Well, if you’ll excuse us,” interrupted Edie briskly, “we must get on.”
“Grr!” Greta was starting to growl like a Jack Russell terrier. She was not too young to know exactly what the butcher’s job was – she had seen meat in his shop window in the village many times. Edie worried she might actually bite poor Mr Hodges on the leg if he mentioned sausages, bacon or, worst of all, a Christmas ham, in the same breath as her beloved Twiglets.
“We need to milk the goat,” she said, grabbing Greta’s hand and dragging her away across the meadow.
“Right ho!” called Mr Hodges, unloading the second churn and climbing back into his van.
“He is my number-one enemy,” snarled Greta.
“Poor Mr Hodges. He is really a very nice man,” said Edie. But Greta insisted on running back to sing soothing songs to the Twiglets the moment he was gone.
Edie was left to finish the rest of their chores alone.
As she came into the kitchen with the pail of goat’s milk, Uncle Peter was opening the big brown envelope that Perky had delivered that morning. She guessed it must be more of his German translation work for the War Office. “Is it another shopping list from the man buying toothpaste in Berlin?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Uncle Peter was busy reading whatever was inside. “No, actually,” he said, looking up. “This is something quite different. It might even be very good news.”
“Really?” Edie was intrigued.
But Uncle Peter just smiled. “I better see to this. Maisie’s still off with flu, I’m afraid. If you don’t mind looking after Greta, shall we say lessons are cancelled yet again? You can tell the others it’s in honour of your birthday.”
“Brilliant!” said Edie as Uncle Peter hurried away. She knew Gus wouldn’t mind a bit – it was clear now he’d only been pretending to get serious about school work earlier, so he could prepare her secret celebration.
“Help yourself to the rest of the boiled eggs for lunch. And there’s some bread and another slice of cake for you all too. Make a picnic, if you like,” Uncle Peter called over his shoulder.
“Good idea,” said Edie. “Thank you.”
She packed a little basket with an old checked tablecloth, the leftovers from the breakfast feast and the bar of chocolate from Fliss too. She thought it would be fun to take their lunch to HQ and eat it in the old dining car, as if they were going on a long train journey … perhaps through the snowy Alps like Aunt Roberta had done.
Then she gathered all her other birthday presents around her and settled down to read the first few pages of Heidi while she waited for the other two to be finished outside.
By the time Gus and Greta came in, Edie was lost in the world of the Swiss mountains.
“One minute,” she said, holding up her hand. “I just want to finish this chapter.”
“Can I play with your new pencils?” asked Greta.
“Hmm,” said Edie distractedly.
“And your lamp?”
“Careful, Greta,” said Gus.
Edie glanced up.
“Can we light it?” Greta asked.
Edie sighed and put her book down. It was obvious she was going to have to leave Heidi and the Alps behind for now.
“We could light it,” she said, opening the little door in the back of the lantern to show Greta how. “But there’s not much point until this evening. We won’t be able to see it glow properly until it’s dark.”
“And then we’ll have to have the blackout curtains drawn,” reminded Gus.
“Can’t we draw the blackout curtains now?” whined Greta. “I want to have a go.”
But Edie leapt to her feet. “I’ve thought of something even better than that,” she said. “Come on!”
She found a box of matches above the stove, then grabbed the lantern
in one hand and the picnic basket in the other.
“Where are we going?” asked Gus as they ran across the meadow.
“To the Alps!” said Edie. “Heidi gave me the idea… ”
“Heidi?” said Gus.
“Well, Heidi and Aunt Roberta, actually,” said Edie. “You’ll see. Follow me!”
She led them across the top of the fields and only dropped down towards the railway when they reached the dim grey mouth of the tunnel.
“See!” she said triumphantly. “We can light the lantern in there. It’ll be just like Aunt Roberta’s train journey in the long, dark tunnels beneath the Alps. Even though it’s the middle of the day out here, it will be black as night once we’re underground.”
“Golly!” said Greta, and she slipped her hand into Edie’s. “The very last dark… ”
“The very last dark,” repeated Edie. “I like that.”
But Gus shook his head. “We can’t take Greta into the tunnel. It’s not safe,” he said. “What if a train comes?”
“There won’t be any trains,” said Edie. “Not today. That’s why it’s so brilliant. Perky and I saw the Italian POWs this morning. They’re still working on the line. No trains can get through.” Edie didn’t like to admit it, but she would never have dared to come back here otherwise. She had been frightened out of her wits that first day when she and Gus had run away from the Snigsons’ farm and hidden in the long, dark tunnel. She could still hear the roar of the train in her ears and see the lights coming towards her like a dragon’s fiery eyes in the darkness. It would be different this time, they could walk right along the middle of the tracks without worrying if a train would come and they’d have the lantern with them to light their way.
“We could walk the whole length of the tunnel underground,” said Gus. She could hear the excitement in his voice now. “If what you are saying is true, then today’s our one and only chance. They’re bound to have the tracks fixed soon.”
“Exactly. Perky says they’ll be done by tomorrow.” Edie crouched down in front of Greta. “Just so long as you are not too scared to come in,” she said kindly.