Keep Calm and Carry On, Children

by Sharon K Mayhew

  “We came to see your evacuee, Sam. He’s my friend.” I interjected. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as rude to me. I stood four inches taller than Phyllis, so he might think I was a lot older. “We hoped he could come and play with us.”

  Mister Badderly jumped out of his seat. “He doesn’t have time to play childish games with you lot. I need him here. We need to be ready for it if those Germans try to invade. I, for one, don’t want to run out of food. All this rationing concerns me. How would I eat if England ran out of rations?”

  “I can’t imagine you running out of food. Why look at those carrots and those runner beans, they’re growing like Heather on a Scottish hillside.” Phyllis put on that same sweet smile her mum had used with the rude lady at the fabric shop.

  “Aye, we’ve been working hard on them. Sam’s not afraid of a bit of hard work. Not the strongest boy I ever met, but he’ll do ‘til me boys get back.”

  Sam kept on working as perspiration covered his forehead. His cheeks were bright red against his pale skin. He flashed me a crooked smile as he pulled up a clump of clover.

  “Could spare him for a few hours?” I asked.

  Mister Badderly scratched the back of his neck. “I suppose so, if he finished the weeding and hoeing, but he can’t be gone long. He’ll need to start chopping wood soon.” He pulled out a hanky and blew his nose so loudly you would’ve thought a goose lived in his garden.

  “What if we helped Sam finish the weeding?” Phyllis asked. “Then would he be able to go with us for a bit longer?”

  Mister Badderly stood back up and jammed his spade into the ground and leaned on it. He pulled out a pipe and a box of matches. He lit his pipe. He breathed in the smoke and blew it out in little puffs.

  “We don’t mind helping,” I said.

  “All right then.” He nodded his head. “But you better do a bang-up job on the garden, or he won’t be goin’ with you. I have business to take care of this afternoon, and I don’t need all you pesky children around.”

  We began pulling weeds with Sam.

  Mister Badderly towered over us. His nose flared. He was worse than not nice. He scared me, and I’d survived the Blitz.

  Phyllis knelt beside me pulling weeds. “Let’s ask him if we can have something from the garden for lunch,” she whispered under her breath.

  “No,” I whispered back. It was easy to see that this was not the kind of man you asked favours of.

  Phyllis breathed slowly and looked directly into Mister Badderly’s eyes. “Perhaps, we could pick a few apples from your trees. Then eat them this afternoon.”

  “Aye,” Mister Badderly grumbled. “I knew you’d be wanting something else from me.”

  The look on his face made me shudder.

  Mister Badderly huffed. “You can have one apple each. Mind you…That’s three and only three.” He pulled out his hanky and blew his nose again.

  “Ta. That would be lovely,” I said.

  He didn’t return my smile. Had he been this cold to Sam or worse?

  “And…they better be little ones. I need the big ones for…never you mind why I need ‘em. I’ll be watching to make sure you don’t take the big ones.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  September 12, 1940

  4:00 PM

  I didn’t like Mister Badderly. Not one bit. Sam looked like a factory worker who hadn’t seen the light of day in months, and this was only his second day here. Once we got him away from Mister Badderly, we’d find out the truth about how he’d been treated.

  “Gosh, he’s a horrid man!” I said.

  Phyllis nudged me. “We’ll finish faster if your other friend, Molly, is helping us.”

  Sam straightened up. “If you two go find her, I’ll keep working. Mister Badderly won’t come back out again.” Sam turned towards the house. “He’ll be watching out the kitchen window to make sure I’m working and that we only take three little apples when we’re done.”

  “We’ll hurry. Molly, Leah, and Moses aren’t far from here,” Phyllis said.

  Phyllis and I turned onto a narrow road lined with prickly bushes. A pasture on the right had horses in it and a big posh house at the top of the field.

  “Is that where Molly lives?” I’m sure my mouth dropped open. The house had perfectly groomed hedges designed into a maze. An enormous water fountain stood in front of the house. It must’ve been as big as any home I had ever seen in London, perhaps even bigger than Buckingham Palace. Molly was lucky indeed. “It’s giant! Look there’s even a horse to ride.”

  “Molly doesn’t live there. She lives there.” Phyllis pointed to a small cottage with a little chimney on top and a coal house beside it. Beyond the cottage stood a quarry.

  “What a sweet cottage,” I said. “I hope Molly’s host family is more pleasant than Sam’s.”

  “They are,” Phyllis said. “I’ve known Mister and Missus Stone my whole life. They’re the kindest people in the whole village.”

  Phyllis banged on the door with a lion head brass knocker.

  Molly answered the door. She rushed past Phyllis and squeezed me tightly. “I’m so glad to see you. You were so kind to me on the train.” She cuddled me again. “Is this someone from your host family?”

  Phyllis smiled and nodded.

  “This is Phyllis,” I said. “Her mum and Grandpa picked Gina and me. They’re smashing.”

  “We came to ask Mister and Missus Stone something.” Phyllis peeked around the edge of the front door.

  “Oh, do come in. I’ll put on a pot of tea. Mister Stone is at work, but Missus Stone is home.”

  “We don’t have time for tea,” I said. “Sam’s in a bit of a bishy mess. We need to get back to him.”

  “Oh, dear!” Molly exclaimed.

  We followed Molly into the kitchen. It resembled Ma’s kitchen. It had a coal fireplace, a black stove and a square sink with a tap in it. Molly rushed down the hall to find Missus Stone.

  “Hello, my dear Phyllis,” Missus Stone said as she came in the kitchen. “And who do we have here?”

  “This is Joyce. She’s one of our evacuees,” Phyllis said, proudly. “We picked her and her little sister, Gina.”

  “Leek certainly has gotten lucky, getting such nice children. I’ve heard chatter in other villages about how rough the evacuees are.” Missus Stone pursed her lips.

  “We stopped in to see if Molly could come help us help our friend Sam in Mister Badderly’s garden. Then we’ll have time to play together,” Phyllis said.

  Missus Stone gasped. “Oh, my! Mister Badderly took in an evacuee. What a surprise.”

  “Please let Molly go with us, Sam really needs our help,” I said.

  “I suppose it’ll be all right,” said Missus Stone. “Just stay out of Mister Badderly’s business. He’s not someone I completely trust.”

  We all nodded.

  Missus Stone shook her head. “It’s very surprising that he took in an evacuee. He doesn’t usually do a thing to benefit others.”

  It confirmed my fears. We had to help Sam.

  I had to get Sam alone. Once away from Mister Badderly’s steely eyes, he would tell us everything.

  “Can Molly come with us now?” I tapped my hand against my leg impatiently. The more work we could do, the more relief for Sam.

  “As long as she’s home by supper time,” Missus Stone said.

  “I will be, Missus Stone,” Molly said.

  The walk back to Mister Badderly’s house seemed to take forever. Anxious to get there, I challenged everyone to a race. I reached the gate first. Mo
lly came in second, and Phyllis came in last.

  “I won!” I shouted. It felt freeing to run and to not worry about anything for a few minutes.

  “Not fair!” Phyllis protested. “I have the shortest legs.”

  We nipped round to the back. Sam sat knee high in the pile of weeds he’d already yanked out.

  He wiped his forehead, leaving a dirt streak across it.

  “We’re here to help,” I said, “and look who’s with us.”

  Sam stood up. His face lit up like a torch in the night. “Molly, it’s great to see you. Jump in and help me for a bit, then I’ll be finished.”

  We got on our hands and knees and pulled weeds until the garden appeared to be weed free.

  Sam picked up the hoe and worked his way up each row. “Mister Badderly shouldn’t find fault in any of the work we’re doing.”

  When he finished, he went to the back door and knocked. It seemed rather strange that he didn’t just go inside.

  “What now?” Mister Badderly shouted.

  Sam stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the ground. “W…w…we think the garden is f…f…finished.”

  Mister Badderly strolled out of the back door into the victory garden. “There!” He pointed to a tiny blade of grass we’d missed.

  Sam rushed over, almost on his knees before he reached it. He yanked it out of the ground and stuck it in his pocket. He sat back on his knees, hunched over, avoiding eye contact with Mister Badderly. “Is it all right now, Sir?”

  Mister Badderly sneered. “It’ll have to do.”

  “Can we go play now?” Sam put on a fake smile but still didn’t look directly at Mister Badderly.

  “You can, but don’t let me catch you sneaking anything from my Victory Garden. I only gave you permission to take three small apples.”

  “Th…thank-you Mister Badderly.” Sam backed up as he spoke.

  Mister Badderly slammed the door behind him as he went back inside.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  September 12, 1940

  5:00 PM

  Sam picked up his gas mask and slung it over his shoulder.

  We followed him to the bottom of the garden to Mister Badderly’s fruit trees.

  “Gosh, he has a lot of apples and plums,” Phyllis said. “Have you eaten any yet?”

  Sam shook his head. “Mister Badderly said they’re for something special.”

  Everyone picked an apple. Everyone, but Molly.

  “Did everyone get a small one?” Sam asked. “He’ll take it out on me if he suspected we even thought about taking the big ones.”

  “I didn’t pick one,” said Molly. “He said we could only have three.”

  “Thank goodness you remembered!” said Sam. “He was probably watching us.”

  We cleaned our apples on our breeches and munched on them as we walked through the village. Living in Leek felt like a safe haven after the bombings in London. The only visible signs of the war in Leek were the long queues for rations.

  “Let’s go to the old quarry,” Phyllis suggested. “We can climb to the top of the slag piles and slide on them if we can find some cardboard.”

  “That sounds fun,” Molly said.

  Sam stopped walking.

  “Are you all right?” I put my hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m kind of worn out,” Sam said. “I worked in the sun for a long time. I probably should’ve had more water.” Sam rolled his head around and stretched his shoulders. “Could we sit for a spell?”

  “Of course, we can,” Phyllis said.

  I liked her more and more each day. She had the same protective spirit for Sam that I had, and she barely knew him.

  We sat on the curb. Sam eyes were sunken in. Scratches covered his arms and a nasty gash was above his left eye.

  “Sam,” I dared to ask, “how did you get that gash?”

  “I hit my head going into the cellar. When I’m not working outside or cleaning, he keeps me there. It’s like being locked in a bomb shelter. The room is cold, damp, and really dark. He gave me a torch but told me he wasn’t giving me new batteries if I use ‘em up, so I don’t use it much. There’s a mat on the floor for me to sleep on and another mat to cover up with.” Sam took a deep breath. “He feeds me when my work meets his standards. Yesterday, I forgot to carry the weeds to the brush pile at the end of the garden. Well, it cost me.” Sam stuck his hands in his pockets. “I only got a piece of bread and butter for dinner. He gives me plenty of milk though. He says I need it so I can work harder.”

  Molly and I sat with our mouths open. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought something this horrible would happen to one of us.

  “We’ll figure out how to get you away from him,” I said. “No one deserves to be treated that way.”

  “Should we tell my mum?” Phyllis asked. “Maybe she can help.”

  Sam shook his head vigorously. “No, you can’t tell anyone. It’ll get worse for me. I shouldn’t have told you.” A black cloud covered his face.

  I looked at Phyllis.

  “We won’t say anything, but we’re going to find a way to help you,” I said.

  Sam rubbed the dirt off his hands. They were covered with blisters. I couldn’t stand the thought of him living in those conditions for a moment longer. We had to help him. Living alone in the woods, searching for berries would be better than this.

  “Trying to escape would be impossible.” Sam’s head hung low. “He has men who come to the house every day, and he brags ‘bout keeping me locked up when I’m not doing anything useful.

  “Who are they?” Molly asked.

  Sam shrugged. “Never see ‘em. Mister Badderly locks me in the cellar when they come. They laugh about me. I can hear them through the floorboards. They talk about how much money they’re making and how the war’s making them rich. I’ve even heard them counting money. They’re pretty scary blokes. He’d have them after me, as quick as a fox slips in and out of a hen house, if I tried to leave. It’s useless to even try. I just have to do what I’m told and keep my head down while I wait for the war to end.” Sam sighed. “I thought I had it bad in London, but this is much worse.”

  “We’re going to help you.” I felt as strongly about this as I did about Gina and me staying together before we got picked by Ma and Phyllis. We’d find a way to help Sam.

  Chapter Thirty

  September 12, 1940

  6:00 PM

  We strolled along the dusty road, past Molly’s house, until we reached the quarry grounds. A tip full of rubbish stood near the giant hole in the ground.

  “We can explore the tip,” Sam said. “You can usually find some jolly good bits in them.” The cloud over Sam’s face lightened.

  We dug around in the tip until we found some old cardboard.

  “Let’s slide,” Molly said.

  Phyllis pointed to a huge mound of soil and rock on one side of the quarry.

  “I’m first,” shouted Phyllis. She ran full speed, jumped on the cardboard and slid down the slag pile.

  “How was it?” Sam shouted.

  “Absolutely brilliant!”

  Phyllis dragged the cardboard up to the top for someone else to have a turn.

  “Who’s next?” she asked.

  Molly cleared her throat. “Can I?”

  “Of course, you can,” Phyllis said as she handed her the cardboard. “It’s a shame we don’t have more cardboard, then we could have races.”

  “What about looking around that old hut and seeing if t
here’s any over there?” I said. The hut stood at the top of the quarry rim. It was almost hidden by trees. It looked like it hadn’t been used in years. The grey paint flaked off it. One of the window panes had a hole in it. Several of the roof tiles were broken and laying on the ground.

  Phyllis stayed and watched Molly slide. Sam and I went over to the run-down hut to search for cardboard.

  “I say,” Sam said, “here are a couple pieces of cardboard.”

  “That’s super. Now we need one more piece, and then we can race.”

  We wandered around looking under bushes and under the hut. I stood on my tippy toes and peeked in the broken window and saw a lot more than I was expecting.

  “Sam, come round here, quickly.”

  Sam looked in the window. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “It is. We better get the girls,” I said.

  “Molly…Phyllis…come up here,” I shouted. They took forever to climb up the heap.

  “We found something odd at the bottom of the quarry,” Molly said.

  “We found something strange up here, too,” Sam said. “Since we’re all up here let’s look at what we found first, then we can go to the bottom of the quarry and see what you found.”

  “Have a look in the window,” Sam said.

  Molly and Phyllis stood on their tippy toes and peered in.

  “I can’t believe it!” Phyllis shook her head in disbelief.

  Through the dust covered window, we saw boxes and crates stacked on the floor. The walls were lined with shelves. The shelves had more boxes stacked on them. The boxes had labels on them, but I couldn’t make out what most of them said.

  “Do you see the crate in the corner?” I asked. “It says sugar on it.”

  “Cor, I wonder what else is in there,” Sam said.

  “I’m more worried about who this stuff belongs to,” Molly said.