by Joan Moules
He swung his case on to the bed and started whistling ‘Run, Rabbit Run’, as he undid it and scattered the contents about. Annie sat on the edge of the bed and watched him.
‘I’m glad you did come back, Johnny,’ she said after a few minutes.
‘Here.’ He took a bulky-looking shape wrapped in a teacloth from his case. ‘I got you something.’
She undid it carefully. Inside was a piece of wedding-cake, a silver shoe and some rose-petals.
‘That’s what they used for confetti,’ Johnny said offhandedly, ‘real rose-petals. Thought you’d like a bit of the wedding seeing as how you missed all the excitement. And it was a proper wedding-cake. My mum and Doris’s mum got together and saved all their coupons for months to get the stuff.’
‘Gosh, thanks Johnny. I kept wishing I could come with you. It seemed a long weekend with only the Dovers for company. They’re ever so dull.’
‘That’s the other exciting news, Annie. Me mum says you can come for the weekend when I have me birthday treat next month. We’re going to a show and we’ll probably eat out too, seeing as how it’s a special occasion.’
‘Come up and stay with you?’
Johnny sauntered as nonchalantly as he could over to the door.
‘Of course. It’d be too late to come back here after the theatre. Mind, there’s danger in London, the bombs falling, you’ll probably want to think about it first.’
‘Oh no, Johnny, I don’t need to think about it. I’d love to come.’
He turned to face her so suddenly he almost fell over himself. ‘Smashing.’ he said. ‘We’ll have a whale of a weekend. You can help me choose what we go to see, and we’ll have a slap-up meal.’
‘Sshh Johnny, keep your voice down or you’ll have sir and madam up to “see what is going on”.’ Annie gave a fair imitation of Mrs Dover’s voice. They went downstairs again, and for the rest of the evening they gave each other excited glances.
Later, at their nightly chat session Johnny told her how excited his mum had been to have all the family home together, even though it was only for the weekend.
‘And the siren didn’t go once during the wedding, but it did in the night, though there were no bombs dropped near us. Just heard the planes going over, that’s all. Didn’t see any action.’
Johnny’s twelfth birthday was actually on the Wednesday, but the jollifications were arranged for the weekend when Mrs Bookman would be home from the factory where she worked.
Annie’s parents were hesitant when she asked permission to spend the weekend in London with the Bookmans. Mrs Evesham had a long telephone conversation with Mrs Dover one evening and at the end of it Mrs Dover said, ‘Anita, your mother would like to speak to you.’
Johnny went upstairs, ostensibly to go to the bathroom, but in reality to squat on the landing and peer through the banisters. Looking down on to the mass of Annie’s shining dark hair he thought, I bet they’ll stop her coming with me, yet her mum never comes to see her and only writes once a month. She doesn’t really care about her, not like I do.
This discovery made him feel strange from head to toe. He even shivered a little. Yes, he did care about her, in fact he couldn’t imagine life without Annie now. She was better than his own mates because not only did she join in with any adventure that was on the go, but he could talk to her as well. And looking at her, as he was now from his vantage point, a heady, vibrant sensation shot through him and he felt the blood suffusing his cheeks at the temerity of his thoughts. Annie Evesham, I believe I’m in love with you.
He waited until he heard her say, ‘Goodbye, Mummy,’ and disappear into the front room before he came downstairs. She looked across to him as he entered and, smiling happily, she said, ‘I can come, Johnny.’
It was hard not to rush over and swing her round and round as he had in that dancing sequence at school last week, but instead he simply said, ‘That’s good.’
She took him to task about this when they were upstairs again later.
‘You didn’t show much enthusiasm when I said I was allowed to come and spend the weekend at your house, Johnny. I thought you wanted me to.’
He laughed delightedly, feeling power too now for the first time in his life. ‘I do, Annie,’ he said, ‘you know darn well I do, but it’s best not to let the others see that. If grown-ups think you want something very badly they’ll try to stop it, pretending it’s for your own good.’
Mrs Dover made a great deal of the proposed weekend in London. ‘I’m sure I think you’re very brave, the both of you,’ she said several times. ‘You wouldn’t catch me going up there unless it was necessary. Certainly not to go to the theatre.’
‘And have dinner in a restaurant,’ Johnny said proudly. ‘No messing about with rations and things. I shall eat enough to last me for days.’
Annie laughed delightedly. ‘If you’re too greedy you’ll be sick and then it won’t have been any pleasure at all.’
‘My stomach’s strong. You’d be surprised at what I can put away,’ he boasted.
‘You are both forgetting that it costs money to eat out,’ Mrs Dover said.
‘It’s me birthday treat. I’m having a theatre visit and a meal out instead of a present.’ Johnny looked smugly at her. ‘Me mum’s earning a lot of money in the factory now and we’ve never been terribly poor like some kids are. We’ve always had enough to eat and decent clothes.’
In the two years Johnny had lived with the Dovers he had grown much taller and lost some of what Annie called his ‘sloppy speech habits’. His natural accent was still there, and he spoke as quickly, but he didn’t swear as much and Annie had shown him the beauty of words.
Although she was used to bucking authority, she had never done it with such joy until she met Johnny. Until then it had been a grim ‘I won’t let you beat me’ attitude. Now it was happy, shared excitement.
Together they had taken several afternoons off school and gone to the pictures. Annie always had money sent to her by her parents. They spaced these visits out and had only been caught once. ‘And then we didn’t let on where we’d been,’ they enthused to each other later, for Annie had quickly said that she had hurt her foot and Johnny had stayed with her until she could walk on it again.
‘Mind, I don’t think they believed us,’ she said later, ‘but who cares. They couldn’t prove I wasn’t speaking the truth.’
‘You’re better at that than I am,’ he had answered then. ‘Me mum always says she knows when I’m telling a lie.’
‘So do I,’ she answered solemnly.
‘How? Come on – give.’
‘Ouch, let go, you’re hurting my arm.’
Johnny stopped immediately. He couldn’t bear to hurt her. He had never felt like this about a girl before. Not about anyone really. ‘Tell me how you know, Annie. An’ – and I’ll tell you if you’re right,’ he finished triumphantly. ‘That’s fair.’
‘I suppose so.’ She put her head slightly to one side, a habit he had noticed before when she needed time to think. ‘Well, you lapse into cockney, but … it’s hard to say really – more than usual. Sort of emphasized.’
‘’Course I don’t,’ he answered loudly. ‘You just think I do. Why, I even sound my h’s properly now. It’s your imagination. You ought ter write stories, cor struth you did, Annie. You wouldn’t ’alf be good at it.’
They were to leave for London early on Saturday morning and return to Winchurch on Sunday afternoon. Annie had by now met Mrs Bookman several times, when she had come down to Winchurch on her day off to see Johnny. She liked her.
‘She startled me at first she was so quick,’ she confided to Johnny, ‘but she’s definite, goes straight to the point and when she laughs I could laugh too without even knowing the joke.’
Mrs Dover tried to persuade Johnny to borrow one of their suitcases, but he refused to be parted from his well-worn one.
‘I don’t know why. This is smarter and will hold more,’ she said.
‘Mine holds enough, thank you, Mrs Dover, and I like it.’
‘Hey, are you going to take your tin hat, Johnny? You might need it in London,’ Annie said when they were packing. He grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at her.
They left the house on Saturday morning with Mrs Dover’s voice following them down the garden path. ‘Be careful on the roads up there.’
‘That’s rich, that is,’ Johnny said when they had turned the corner, ‘worrying about the London traffic when there’s bombs blowing up all around you.’
‘Johnny, you do exaggerate. Come on, let’s run, I can’t wait to get there.’
On the station waiting for the London train she said suddenly, ‘Does this sound absolutely awful to you? I’m hoping there will be a raid while we’re there. Just a little one, not people getting killed or injured, but German planes coming over and our guns shooting at them. Think how exciting it would be, Johnny?’
Johnny, whose thoughts about the weekend at home had not been along those lines felt amazed for a few moments. Fancy wanting to go into danger like that just for the hell of it. Annie was quite a girl.
Mrs Bookman was at Paddington station to meet them. She threw an arm round each very quickly, then releasing them, she clenched her fist and shadow-boxed her son’s chin. That nearly made him cry, and he wanted very badly to tell her he missed her too. Instead he said loudly, ‘Hey Mum. Annie’s hoping there’ll be an air-raid while we’re here.’
Annie looked embarrassed. ‘You make it sound wicked, Johnny, and I didn’t mean it like that.’
Mrs Bookman turned to here. ‘There probably will be,’ she said, ‘but I think I know what you mean, duck – not much excitement stuck down there in the country. I’d hate it meself.’
They travelled by tube and bus back to Johnny’s home in Hackney.
‘D’you want to see your mum while you’re up here, Annie?’ Mrs Bookman said as the tube raced through the blackness.
‘No, thank you. They’re away at present. I spoke to her on the telephone last week, though.’
Once indoors Johnny thought how small everything looked. The two-up, two-down terraced house had always seemed roomy to him before. Bigger than the homes of some of his mates, who lived in the flats anyway.
Now it felt very poky. Still, it was good to be back. To hear his mum singing away to the wireless and to see again his home-made ships and racing-cars. Before the war he had shared a bedroom with his two brothers. Now they were both in the army he’d have it to himself.
‘I’ve put Annie in the bedroom, Johnny,’ Mrs Bookman said now, ‘and you’ll be in the bedchair down here tonight.’
Oh well, you couldn’t win ’em all and he hadn’t really thought about where Annie would sleep. Just to be home was good enough, and he’d slept on the bedchair often before; it wasn’t too hard, unless you turned over suddenly and caught your face on the arm.
‘When we going up West then Mum?’
‘When we’ve had something to eat. I’ve got some dried egg so I thought I’d do you scrambled egg and chips now and we’ll have tea out before we go to the show.’
‘I am looking forward to it, Mrs Bookman,’ Annie said quietly, ‘and it is good of you to invite me too.’
‘It’s a pleasure, Annie. I just hope those blighters stay away tonight, that’s all. It’s been much better lately. It’s such a relief to know you kids are safe down there in the country. I expect your mum feels the same.’ Annie didn’t answer.
They both helped to wash and wipe up, then they set off for the West End. They had seats booked for Applesauce at the Palladium. ‘Second house,’ Mrs Bookman told them, ‘because I wasn’t sure if we’d make the first at half past two. But this starts at twenty past six so it’ll give us time for a meal first. I know a nice little place where we can eat. It’s small but the food’s good. Unless you want to go to Lyons Corner House. They have a band there.’
The subject of where to eat lasted almost until they were in Oxford Street, the smaller place eventually winning when Mrs Bookman told them about the chocolate éclairs with real cream.
‘I’ve only been there once meself, but it was good,’ she said, ‘and it’s handy for the theatre. Don’t want too far to go, do we?’
They had a wonderful afternoon. ‘It’s smashing to be in London again,’ Johnny said, ‘though to be fair the country’s not bad. More to do than I’d thought there’d be. Which do you like best, Annie, forgetting about being away from home I mean. Just supposing you could have a choice like, after the war?’
‘The country, Johnny. It’s quieter, not so smoky, and you can keep animals.’
‘You like animals, Annie? What, sheep and things? Because you can keep cats and dogs in town, can’t you?’ Johnny’s mum smiled across at her.
‘Yes, but with me it’s horses mostly, Mrs Bookman.’
‘Call me Mum, or Mrs B or something,’ she said. ‘Mrs Bookman’s such a mouthful. Horses, eh – I like horses too. Have you got one at your home?’
‘No. But I can ride. I used to have lessons, and there’s a girl at school sometimes lets me ride her pony.’
‘I wouldn’t have minded doing that. Oh, I can’t ride, but I’d have loved to try. Still, it’s a different world in the country and maybe I wouldn’t enjoy it for long. You go where the Lord puts you, don’t you?’
Johnny thought his heart would burst. He wasn’t sure whether with excitement or happiness, just to be back walking the streets of home. To make a perfect day it needed his dad and brothers there too, but Jim and Ron were both overseas now, and, like his mum often said, ‘You can’t have everything.’ He would see his dad tonight anyway, and tomorrow morning, because he didn’t work on Sundays. Anyway, if they were all there he’d probably be in trouble for something or another, he thought, he usually was.
‘How’s Doris, Mum?’ he said, and, turning to Annie, ‘That’s me sister-in-law.’
‘I know. You never stop telling me.’
‘She’s OK, Johnny. Working in the factory with me in the week, and usually goes to her mum’s at weekends. And I heard from Ron and Jim the other day. Not much, but they’re both all right. Thank God you’re not old enough yet to go in the forces.’
She turned towards Annie. ‘Jim and Ron, our other sons, are both overseas now,’ she said to her.
They gave themselves plenty of time before the theatre for their tea.
‘Oh, it’s lovely, isn’t it?’ Annie said when they were inside the little restaurant with its red-plush wallpaper and white tablecloths. The waiter was elderly with a thatch of white hair and a charming manner. Both children studied the menu for so long that Mrs Bookman suggested she should order for them.
‘No mum – I know what I want but it’s nice to see what else you could have. If you weren’t having what you are having, I mean.’
Mrs Bookman and Annie went into a fit of giggles at this piece of logic and it was a very jolly party who eventually tucked into steak-and-kidney pie, potatoes and vegetables.
‘Leave enough room for your éclair Johnny.’ Annie laughed as he wiped the last piece of pie on his fork round the plate.
The éclairs, when they arrived, looked every bit as scrumptious as Mrs Bookman’s description of them. Johnny looked at the silver cake-fork by his plate, then watched to see what Annie would do.
‘Mmm, this looks gorgeous,’ she said. She picked up the fork and cut into the éclair’s creamy centre just as the air raid warning sounded. Johnny and Annie looked at each other then turned to Mrs Bookman who was already pushing back her chair. The waiter clapped his hands for attention.
‘We have a deep cellar,’ he said loudly, ‘anyone who wishes to use it please follow me.’
Some customers stayed at their tables but Mrs Bookman ushered the children to join others who were following the waiter through to the back of the premises. Not sure whether to take the cake with him Johnny saw no one else had done so, and with a mouth-watering glance at the gleaming richness of
the chocolate éclair on his plate, he tagged along behind Annie.
They reached the kitchen doorway just as an almighty noise rumbled around and the ceiling caved in on them.
CHAPTER 5
1941
‘Johnny, Johnny where are you?’
‘Annie, I’m here but I can’t see you. Where’s me mum?’
Both children called for her, but the only sound was of someone moaning.
‘Mum, are you OK?’ Johnny began crawling towards the sound.
A man’s voice answered. ‘It’s my leg – I can’t move my leg.’
‘Wait,’ Johnny said. ‘Someone’ll be here in a minute. It must ‘ave bin a bleedin’ bomb. Annie, Mum, answer me for God’s sake.’
His eyes were gradually becoming accustomed to the gloom and when he crawled on to something soft Annie’s voice, very close, said, ‘Johnny, is that you? Can you lift this thing off me, it’s squashing my arm.’
He fumbled around, trying to feel the shape of whatever was pinioning her. ‘Are you hurt Annie?’
‘I – I don’t think so. Are you? And – and what about your mum?’
A beam of light suddenly flashed on to the children and a deep voice said, ‘Over here, Bert.’ Then softly, ‘Don’t worry, we’ll have you out into daylight in a jiffy.’ The light from the torch swung round on to Johnny, on his hands and knees in the rubble that had been the restaurant.
‘You all right, son?’
‘Yes, but I can’t find me mum.’
‘Stay still while we get the little girl out, then we’ll look.’
Another warden joined him, and together they lifted the beam that had trapped her. Five minutes later both children were in an ambulance en route for the hospital, Johnny protesting that he couldn’t go without his mother.
‘Tell me your name, son, and we’ll see you meet up, but we’ve got to get this ambulance away now. And don’t worry, we’ll tell her you’re both all right and where they’ve taken you.’
The ambulance doors closed and Johnny and Annie, together with half a dozen others, all of them covered in dust and plaster, were on their way.