Chapter 10
The woman led him through a gate in the fence and round the side of the house. Then she took him through a side door and into a warm kitchen where she seated him at a table. Soon a steaming mug of cocoa sat in front of him, along with a slice of rich fruitcake. He wondered where the fruit for the cake had come from as most people had little or none. But he knew there were black market dealings in such things, so he didn't ask. It wouldn't have been polite. Anyway, and he knew that some people were lucky enough to have friends or relatives overseas who could sometimes send dried fruit and other things. The man, who had taken the dog off to somewhere else in the house, came back in carrying Jeffery's gas mask. He sat at the other side of the table while the woman fussed with a wash cloth cleaning Jeffery's face. When she'd finished he handed the Jeffery the gas mask.
"It was a bit squashed and battered." the man said. "I've straightened it the best I can. You're lucky, boy, my wife, Mrs. Lewis here, is quite a battleaxe. Swings a great mop, she does." The woman shushed him, but he only laughed. "Those bandits hadn't a hope against her -- not a chance. Her and Toby make a great team. I've been thinking about setting her on to old Hitler."
"Well I suppose it was lucky I heard all the commotion and went out and looked over the gate," Mrs. Lewis said. "He looked as if he was trying to kill you." She raised her hand, gently waved a finger. Her head bent slightly forward. "Was he?"
"I don't know," Jeffery lied. He was afraid to say much for fear, that if he told, Tommy Thorne might wriggle out of severe punishment and take revenge. And even then, if he was punished, he'd still be around.
"Do you know them?"
Oh, yes, he thought, I know two of them. I know Tommy Thorne, and I really wish the Germans would drop a bomb on him. He'd known Tommy Thorne as a bully from back in London before the evacuation. Luckily, Jeffery's older brother, Philip was in the same class as Thorne. Like many bullies Thorne wouldn't challenge someone of his own size. While Jeffery had the protection of his brother, he wasn't bothered. But after the summer holidays, shortly before the evacuation, his brother, who'd won a scholarship, changed schools. Thorne stayed on.
On evacuation day the students, leaving parents outside, assembled in their usual classrooms, each with its teacher, awaiting the order to march off to the Underground station. Mrs. Kelly, Jeffery's teacher, sat up front as normal and called the special roll. Following this she went around and handed out coloured baggage labels. The children were instructed to write their name, age and school name on the labels. When the labels were ready they were to tie them to a button hole. The older children were to help the younger ones with the labels.
After that was over, with nothing much else to do, Mrs. Kelly checked that all the children had gas masks. This task completed, she decided to hold a gas mask drill while they waited.
"All right now," she said. "Put your gas mask boxes on your desks and take out the masks."
There was much fumbling and noise as the boxes were lifted to the desks and opened and the face-fitting masks made of smelly rubber taken out. The masks had two round glass covered holes at eye level and a heavy metal canister below. The canister had many small holes in the bottom to allow breathing. Inside the canister was something to absorb the gas. Mrs. Kelly had just opened her mouth to give the command to put the gas masks on when Mr. Walker, the headmaster, walked in and went over to her. He said a few words too soft for the students to hear before he walked out again.
Jeffery thought Mrs. Kelly appeared to be nervous and worried after this. As she walked around to the front of her desk she was biting her lip. "Right children," she said. "Put your gas masks away. It's time to leave. Go out that way." She pointed to the door on the right. "And please don't worry. Everything will be all right; absolutely all right. It will all be over in a few weeks."
Orderly and subdued they filed out. Outside, as normal, the girls separated from the boys and gathered in the lower playground. Everybody, or at least all the older ones, knew the date: Friday, September 1st 1939. Overhead light clouds covered the sky with only the odd small spot of blue showing through. It wasn't hot; it wasn't cold. Out by the gate parents waited. Most of them were mums because the dads had to be at work. In the whole group only three were men.
Jeffery took it all in. He saw that some of the mums cried, and noticed one of the dads put a hand to his eye as he turned away.
At last everything got underway. The children were formed up into twos and tramped out through the gate. There they turned left and hiked up the road to the nearby railway station. Although it all started out orderly, once the station was reached organization fell apart. Other school groups arrived at the same station and yet others had already arrived. As the children milled around, Teacher control of the children virtually ceased to exist. The only reason for any order at all came from the children's fear of getting lost.
The original organization had paired younger children with older ones who looked out for them. This worked out well for the girls, with some of the older ones having two charges, but there were not enough younger boys to go around to be looked after. The problem was solved by pairing boys who didn't need looking after with older ones anyway. Jeffery's bad luck was to be paired with Tommy Thorne.
Thorne, having been put in charge of him, decided to turn his attention elsewhere. Annoying the girls became his activity of choice. His eye fell on Ginger, a girl from another school.
When Jeffery first saw Ginger he thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Long, attractive orange/red hair glistened as it hung down her back. She was bent over trying to comfort a crying, shabby little girl of about six years old. A warm feeling flowed through him as he watched. He hadn't a clue as to why the little one was crying. Ginger held a slightly grubby handkerchief and dabbed at the tears rolling down tiny cheeks, which didn't stop the six year old from rubbing her eyes and pulling the sleeve from her jumper across her nose.
The small girl's gas mask was slung across her shoulders, and in one hand she held a carrier bag. But what made her stand out was the brand new, shiny-white, enamel chamber pot held in the other hand. Every time she wiped arm across her nose the potty came up too. For a moment the purpose of the object failed to register on Jeffery. He started to snicker when it dawned on him. Ginger glanced up and he quickly turned away. That was when he saw the evil, glassy gleam in Tommy Thorne's eyes as he, too, spotted the chamber pot. Jeffrey had seen that look before and well knew it boded no good. He also knew that, to Thorne, the chamber pot would be an object for fun and irritation.
Jeffery saw his hand slip into his pants pocket and come out holding a heavy clasp knife. He didn't open it, but stepped forward and brought the blunt end down onto the side of the shiny enamel pot. There was a clang as it hit, and a large piece of enamel flew off from the inside. The little girl stopped crying for about ten seconds and looked in dismay at the damaged receptacle. Then she let loose with a great wail of anguish and the tears flowed faster than ever.
Ginger straightened and took a step toward Thorne who stood two inches taller than she did. "You horrid monster," she said, eyes flashing anger. "Look what you've done."
Thorne gave his head an arrogant toss. "What's wrong? It won't leak if that's what's worrying you."
Ginger took another step forward, coming almost nose to nose with the offender. "You're a terrible person. You've damaged someone else's property."
"So what?" Thorne said. "Get away from me." He raised a hand and shoved the palm against Ginger's shoulder. Jeffery grabbed him and pulled him back before he could take further action. Thorne swung around and raised a clenched fist. Jeffery braced for the blow which didn't come.
A man's voice boomed out. "What's the problem here? Why are you two fighting? Why is that little girl crying? What is going on?"
Jeffery found out later that the newly arrived person was a teacher from Ginger's school. Ginger started to pour out an angry and not very coherent version of events. While she
did this, Thorne slipped away, but not before growling at Jeffery, "I'll fix you for that."
The little girl, fascinated by the action and argument, soon stopped crying and watched the goings on. When Ginger's tale was finished, the teacher looked around, saw Jeffery and asked. "Is this the one?"
"No, Mr. Spicer," Ginger answered. "The one that did it's gone and I can't see him now. I'll know him again, though, I know I will."
"Well there's not much I can do right now. There's too much going on. I'll attend to it when we get wherever it is we're going -- if we all end up at the same place that is."
At that moment a woman rushed up and took hold of the little girl's arm. "Melanie. I'm taking you home. I can't let you go, I can't." She looked up at the teacher, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mr. Spicer. I know I'm a horrible person for doing this, but she's my only one. If I gets killed by a bomb, she'll miss me– well – it's best we go together. It's best, I know it is."
Mr. Spicer looked at her. "Mrs. Johnson. It would really be in Melanie's best interest for her to go, you know that." He spoke softly and gently.
"No, no." The woman shook her head. "They said we don't have to send them, so I'm keeping her with me. It's no good you saying anything." With that she pulled at little Melanie's arm, leading her away and leaving Jeffery, Ginger and the teacher to stare as they retreated.
Oh yes, thought Jeffery in answer to Mr. Lewis's question, I know Tommy Thorne.
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