Keep Calm and Carry On, Children

by Sharon K Mayhew

  Chapter Twenty

  September 11, 1940

  6:00 PM

  I was thankful Missus Wood said we both would take our baths inside. Being outside without my clothes on sounded rather odd. I hadn’t noticed the old decorative tile on the kitchen floor until I slipped on it when Phyllis and I came back downstairs. They must have been smashing a hundred years ago when the cottage was built. Gina splashed around, having a jolly good time.

  “Gosh,” I said, “Gina’s bath is going to give your floor a wash too.”

  “Nothing to worry about, Dear. I’ll mop it up when we’re finished with bath time.”

  Missus Wood knelt beside the bath and began to wash Gina’s long red hair.

  “Oh dear! I’m afraid you have some nits in your hair. We’ll need to work very hard to get them out.” Missus Wood turned to me. “Have you had an itchy head?”

  I blushed. “I hadn’t thought about it before, but maybe I have. We must have caught them from the rats in the underground.”

  “Never mind, if I can’t get them out tonight, we’ll pop into the chemist’s shop tomorrow to buy something to get rid of them.”

  Thinking about the nits made my head itch even more. What would Grandpa Wood say if he knew we had nits?

  Gina and Dolly cleaned up quite well. Missus Wood wrapped them up in a big towel.

  “Mum,” Phyllis said. “Would Gina fit in some of the clothes that don’t fit me anymore?”

  Phyllis’s kindness continued to amaze me. She didn’t even seem to care that we had nits.

  Missus Wood opened Gina’s bag. “She very well could. Let’s have a look in your bag first and see what you brought with you.”

  I began nervously twirling my hair. “We didn’t have everything on the list. We didn’t ever have some of the things they said we should bring.” I wondered if it showed that we were poor. I didn’t realize we were poor until we came here.

  “Well, don’t worry about that.” Missus Wood’s calming voice indicated she wouldn’t judge us based on our possessions. She pulled a pair of knickers, a pair of stockings, a blouse, a pair of short trousers and a nightgown out of Gina’s bag. “This will be fine for now. We’ll have a look at your bag after your bath, Joyce.”

  She handed my sister the pair of knickers, the stockings, her blouse, and short trousers. “You get dressed, while I dry Dolly.”

  Gina put on her clothes, and Missus Wood filled the container on the side of the stove with more water. She added more wood to the fire.

  “I can comb through your hair, while I heat some fresh water for your sister’s bath,” she said.

  Gina climbed into a wooden chair and sat with a straight back. Missus Wood began combing Gina’s hair.

  “Goodness, there are a lot of tangles and nits in here,” she said. “We might have to cut it a bit. Would that be all right?”

  Gina shrugged. “I don’t like how my hair gets in my eyes all the time. Can you cut it the same as Phyllis’s hair?”

  “I’ll do my best.” Missus Wood found a pair of scissors in a drawer. I crossed my fingers behind my back. I didn’t want her to cut my hair.

  Missus Wood snip snip snipped and then stepped back from Gina. “You look lovely. Goodness gracious, you and Phyllis could be sisters. Would you like to see what you look like?”

  “Yes, Missus Wood,” Gina said.

  Missus Wood held up a small mirror for Gina. She turned her head from side to side. She squealed. “I love my new hair!”

  Gina’s bright red hair bounced off her shoulders as she flipped her head from side to side. It suited her, and there would be no more tangles to comb out.

  Missus Wood and Phyllis carried the bathtub outside and emptied it. They carried the empty tub back into the kitchen for me to have my turn.

  Missus Wood added some cold water from the tap and the hot water from the hot water tank into the tub.

  “We’ll all go in the sitting room while you have your bath, Joyce,” she said. “Can you wash your own hair?”

  I nodded. “Yes, thank you.”

  I undressed and eased into the big tin tub. What a different experience than how we washed up at home. Mum poured water into a big basin, and we washed up with soap and a flannel. Mum would wash our hair once in a while in the kitchen sink. It always hurt my neck and soap got in my eyes. This was much nicer.

  I lay all the way down in the tub and let my hair float around my head. I thought about Mum being alone and Daddy being at war. I felt a bit guilty. Staying at Missus Wood’s house felt like we were on holiday. Mum called it a holiday to make us feel less nervous, but this lovely, clean, safe house and Missus Wood and Phyllis made it feel like we were at a posh holiday camp. When I sat up, I rubbed the soap in my hands and scrubbed it into my hair. I laid back in the tub and rinsed the soap out. Not a drop of soap got in my eyes. I would have to tell Mum about this in my first letter.

  I finished washing up and dried off. I reached into my bag to get clean clothes. I found a lovely surprise in my bag. Mum packed our book, Winnie the Pooh, in with my clothes. I knew reading it to Gina at bedtime would help her sleep better.

  I slipped on my clean clothes and went into the sitting room.

  “We’ll let’s have a look at you,” Missus Wood said. “Lovely and clean. Can I comb your hair and check it for nits?”

  “Yes, thank you, Missus Wood. I hope I don’t have any. I don’t want to get my hair cut. I like it when it’s long.” I bit the inside of my cheek and crossed my fingers.

  “I hope so too,” she said.

  Missus Wood combed out my hair and found a few nits. She didn’t suggest cutting it. It was a huge relief. I loved my long hair, and now with taking baths and washing it more, it would be beautiful all the time.

  “Phyllis, will you take the girls outside for a little bit? You can show them around the garden. Grandpa will be home from the factory soon, and I need to talk to him in private.” Missus Wood pinched the bridge of her nose, ran her fingers up her forehead, and put on an awkward smile.

  “Come on then,” Phyllis said. “I can show you the privy and where the old witch lives.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  September 11, 1940

  6:30 PM

  Gina’s eyes grew to the size of saucers. “There’s a witch!”

  “Well, my friend Dorothy says a witch lives in the old shed that’s on the way to the privy. I always walk past it quickly during the daytime and try not to look directly at it, just in case she’s there. At night we use the portable pot Grandpa put in the little shed by the house, then we don’t have to go near the witch’s house after dark.” Phyllis squinted and then made a funny smile. “That’s when witches are most active, you know?”

  “She’s pulling your leg, Gina. There aren’t any witches around here.” At least I hoped not.

  “I can prove it to you!” Phyllis said.

  “Fine, I like adventures. Let’s go find your witch,” I said.

  “I don’t want to,” Gina said. “I don’t like scary things. I want to pick flowers and watch the funny animal eating grass in that field.”

  “What funny animal?” Phyllis asked.

  “The big creamy coloured one with sticky up ears.” Gina pointed to a giant but gentle looking creature munching on grass in the middle of a field.

  “That’s not a funny looking animal...that’s Betsy, our milk cow.”

  “A milk cow?” Gina asked. “I thought milk came from the milkman.”

  Phyllis rolled her eyes and stifled a laugh. “For goodness sakes, don’t you know anything? Milk comes f
rom cows, and sometimes people get it from goats. The milkman just delivers it.”

  “Do they kill the cow to get the milk?” Gina asked.

  “No! That’s a horrid thing to say. No one kills milking cows,” Phyllis said using a rather cross voice. “When milking cows have babies, they take the babies away when they are big enough and then keep letting the Mum cow make milk. We put it in jars for us to drink.”

  “Oh, I don’t know if I’ll be drinking milk ever again. I don’t like the idea of taking a baby cow away from its mum and then having its milk. It sounds mean, if you ask me.” I said.

  “It’s not mean, that’s what milking cows are for,” Phyllis explained. “You’ll have to drink some fresh milk from Betsy, and you’ll see…you’ll never want milk man milk again.”

  We walked towards the stone wall and leaned on it. Phyllis picked a piece of grass and stuck it in her mouth and started chewing on it. It’s one thing to drink milk straight from a cow, but it’s another thing to eat grass. I bent down and picked a handful of daisies.

  “Let’s take these back to your mum,” I said.

  “She’ll like them,” Phyllis said.

  Gina stared at the cow and wouldn’t move.

  “How do you get the milk out of the cow?”

  “Well, I don’t do it, but I’ve watched Grandpa lots of times,” Phyllis said. “First you sit on a little chair, you put a bucket under Betsy’s back legs, then you pull the udders, the things that are hanging from her tummy, and milk squirts in the bucket. The milk is hot when it comes out. On a cold day, the milk makes steam.”

  “Ewww!” I said.

  “Can we watch Grandpa milk Betsy?” Gina batted her big green eyes at Phyllis.

  “I’m sure he’ll let you,” Phyllis said.

  “That is, if we get to stay,” I added.

  Phyllis shook her head. “I don’t think he’ll be cross with Ma for choosing both of you instead of just one evacuee.”

  “I certainly hope not. Would he send one of us back if he didn’t like us or thought two of us would be too much work?”

  Phyllis patted me on the back. “You shouldn’t worry. I’m sure he’ll let both of you stay.”

  We walked back to the house. My stomach squirmed around so much I thought I might get sick. What if Grandpa Wood didn’t approve of us? If one of us had to be sent back, I would go. Missus Wood was a nice lady. She would take great care of Gina. There had to be another family nearby that would take me in.

  We walked up the path to the kitchen door. Phyllis reached for the doorknob when the door popped open.

  “Oh!” Phyllis shouted. “You scared me silly, Grandpa!”

  Grandpa Wood was a small framed man, with wispy silver hair and an impish grin. He shoved his hands in his pockets and wiggled his lips. He wore brown trousers and a dark green collared shirt with a carnation pinned to it. He knelt down and smiled. “Well, now, who do we have here?”

  “Grandpa, this is Joyce and Gina. They’re our evacuees.” Phyllis shoved us forward.

  “Now who said you had permission to pick two evacuees?” Grandpa Wood twisted his neck to the side and squinted at us.

  Gina reached for my hand. She was as nervous as me.

  “It’s all right, Mister Wood. If you can’t take both of us, just keep Gina. I’ll be fine with some other family, as long as I can come and check on Gina at least once a week,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.

  Grandpa Wood chuckled. “Now what kind of man would I be if I kept one sister and sent the other one away? You’ll both be staying with us as long as you need to.” He stood up and looked me square in the eyes. “Providing, you promise to be good.”

  Gina jumped up and down shouting, “We can stay! We can stay! We can have milk from Betsy!”

  If I had known Grandpa Wood better, I would have put my arms around him and cuddled him tightly. Instead, I closed my eyes and sighed in relief. “We’ll do our very best, Sir.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  September 11, 1940

  7:30PM

  “It seems we’ll have a few things to sort out tomorrow,” Grandpa Wood said. “But for now, let’s go inside and have our supper.”

  “What’s Mum cooking?” Phyllis asked.

  “I’m not sure, it will depend on what she was able to buy at the green grocers and the butchers today,” Grandpa said.

  “I hope it’s chicken. We haven’t had that in a long time,” Phyllis said.

  We all wiped our feet on the doormat as we went back in the kitchen. Ma busied herself putting bowls of food on the table. One bowl was full of runner beans, and another had cooked carrots in it. A strange, long, fat, green thing sat on a bright blue plate. It must have been fifteen inches long, and bits of meat and onions were oozing out of both ends.

  Grandpa sat at the head of the table, just like Daddy did at home. Ma Wood sat next to him. Phyllis sat next to her. Gina and I sat together on the other side. There was an empty spot at the far end of the table. Probably Phyllis’s dad’s spot. I hoped our dad and Phyllis’s dad weren’t in harm’s way.

  “Oh, Mum, is that from our Victory Garden?” Phyllis pointed to the strange green thing.

  Missus Wood straightened up in her chair. Her soft blue eyes brightened up, and her pale skin glowed. “It is. It’s a marrow stuffed with lamb and onions.”

  Gina pinched her nose. “It smells bad.”

  I kicked her under the table and gave her the look. “But you’ll give it a try, right Gina?”

  “Yes, I’ll try it, but I don’t think I’ll like it.” Gina pursed her lips together. I kicked her again.

  Ma filled everyone’s plates, and we began to eat. I must admit, Gina wasn’t the only one who was nervous about eating the marrow. Thankfully, Ma only gave us each a little piece of it. We both tasted it. It was rather sour and very slimy. The lamb and onions tasted nice, but the marrow was disgusting.

  “It’s interesting,” I said when Ma asked me what I thought about it. Gina said she liked the carrots best.

  After we finished our supper, we went into the sitting room to listen to the wireless. London was still being bombed. I worried about Mum and Daddy. Gina played with Dolly on the mat in front of the wireless, clearly not concerned. My forehead started hurting. I rubbed it, but it didn’t help. I lay beside Gina, put my head down, and closed my eyes. Was Daddy alive or captured? Had Mum been hurt in the bombings?

  “Are you all right, Dear?” Missus Wood asked.

  “My head started hurting, and I’m worried about how Mum and Daddy are doing without us.”

  “I’m sure your Mum and Dad are safe. Why don’t you write them letters?”

  “That’s a jolly good idea.” I sat up. Perhaps writing a letter would make me feel better.

  “We can tell her about milk.” Gina’s eyes lit up, and she grinned.

  Ma passed me a pen and paper. She gave Gina a pencil and paper. I wrote Mum and Daddy a long letter explaining about the train ride, the friends we had made, about getting picked and being able to stay together. And of course, I told her about the bath.

  Gina drew a picture of a cow.

  As I watched Gina draw, I thought about Molly and Sam. I hoped their host families were as kind as ours.

  Grandpa Wood leaned back in his wooden rocking chair and yawned. “I expect you need to go to the shops and get these girls a few things. There’s a bit of money in the biscuit barrel.”

  “Are you sure we can use it, Dad? I know you’ve been saving for a new wheelbarrow and spade for quite some time.” Ma squeezed her hands together in her la
p, which made me wonder how much they needed a new wheelbarrow and spade. I didn’t want to be more of a burden to them.

  “I’ll make do with what I have. It’s served me well for the last ten years, I’m sure it can manage another year or two.” Grandpa rolled his neck around until it made a popping sound. “Pick out some fabric so you can sew the girl’s school dresses. Phyllis might have some old play clothes that need some mending. I expect Phyllis will have them wandering through the countryside in no time.”

  “You’re going to make us brand new clothes?” Guilt hovered over me like a rain cloud. Using Grandpa’s wheelbarrow money on us was beyond kind, but the thought of having brand new clothes was rather exciting. “We’ve never had anything brand new before. We usually got castoffs from the neighbours or from Daddy’s boss’s children.”

  “Well, we want you to be able to put your best foot forward when school starts,” Ma said.

  I hadn’t thought about school starting. Would we see our old teachers or any of our old school friends from London? Or did they get off the train somewhere else? What about that grouchy teacher from the train? I certainly hoped she wasn’t in Leek. Would Molly and Sam be at the same school as us? It would be nice to see someone I knew. Well, sort of knew.

  “Grandpa’s right, there are lots of places to explore here. We’re going to have lots of fun together until school starts.” Phyllis smiled.

  “Not tonight, though. Up the stairs you go, girls,” Ma said. “It’s time to get into your nightgowns. Girls, I put your bags in the room opposite Phyllis’s room.”

  “I’ll show you,” Phyllis said.

  We followed Phyllis up the stairs. She opened the door to our room. A big bed stood in the corner and a big wardrobe. The walls were a soft pink colour with little red roses painted around the edge of the ceiling. A pink and peach blanket covered the bed, and the curtains were made from the same material.