Josie Under Fire (7 page)

“I forgot.” Edith crunched her humbug.

“You’d better give your teeth a good clean. Josie, you don’t want to come, do you?” Josie shook her head; she hated the smell and atmosphere of dentists’ surgeries. “We shouldn’t be too late back, although I couldn’t get an appointment before half past five. I’ll put the dinner in a low oven…”

Josie rather liked being left alone in the house. She found the family’s photograph album and looked at the pictures. She played with Biddy, and read a bit of
The Three Musketeers
, and finished her sweets. Then she went into the garden and climbed the walnut tree. She sat on a high branch and looked out over the back-garden wall, across Flood Street. Somewhere out there, beyond those rooftops, was the Mary Burnet School. She thought again about being called to see the headmistress yesterday. She’d been so frightened and ashamed. She’d never been in that sort of trouble before; her mother would be horrified if she found out. And Alice Hampton… That was more trouble brewing. She wished the others would just leave the girl alone.

She heard the side gate creak, and looked down. Miss Rutherford came in, wearing a grey tweed suit and a little hat with a feather in it. She was carrying a shopping bag.

She glanced up and saw Josie.

“Hallo! On your own today?”

“Edith’s gone to the dentist. Aunty Grace took her.”

“Poor Edith!” Miss Rutherford took out her key and was about to go inside when she turned back and said, “Are you peckish? I’ve got some home-made jam – if you’d like to come up?”

Josie felt shy. But it seemed rude to refuse, and she
was
hungry; and it would be interesting, she thought, to see Miss Rutherford’s flat.

“Yes, please,” she said, and scrambled down.

She followed Miss Rutherford up two flights of stairs. There was a telephone on the midway landing, and a bucket of sand and a stirrup pump; and more fire-fighting equipment at the bottom of the attic stairs.

“Have you been in the attics?” she asked shyly, peering up. She had a fascination with attics; she liked their sloping roofs and little low windows.

“Good heavens, yes!” said Miss Rutherford. “They’re not locked, and all the clutter has been taken away. Had to be, under the Clearance of Lofts Act, in case of fire. We had incendiaries through the roof one night last year.” She caught Josie’s look of interest and said, “Run up and see, if you like. I’ll unpack and put the kettle on.”

Josie climbed up into the empty rooms, her footsteps echoing as she moved from back to front of the house. The back view from the small gable window was one of crowded rooftops, but from the front you could see right across the river and beyond.

She went downstairs and found Miss Rutherford in her small kitchen.

“I’d love to sleep up there!”

Miss Rutherford laughed. “I think of attics as a place for maidservants to sleep.”

“Do you think maids
did
sleep there?”

“I know they did. I had a maid here myself before the last war.”

Josie was surprised. “Have you lived here all that time?”

“No. But I used to live in this flat when I was younger. I rented it from a relative. Last year, when I was looking for a flat in Chelsea, he told me it was empty again. So I came back.”

She began cutting bread, and nodded towards the living room. “Make yourself at home. I’ll bring things in. Luckily for you, I went shopping on my way home from work and bought some fresh bread.”

Josie went into the living room, which was surprisingly large and comfortable. Somehow, when Edith had described Miss Rutherford as “spinster”, she had imagined someone living a mean, cramped existence. But Miss Rutherford had expensive-looking furniture, a soft brown patterned carpet, paintings on the walls, and shelves of books.

Josie went to look at the books. There were poetry books, a few novels that looked rather long and dull, several books that seemed to be about politics…

“Nothing much to interest you, I’m afraid.”

Miss Rutherford had come in with a tray of tea cups, milk and sugar, which she placed on a low table.

“I like your paintings,” said Josie. “That one especially.”

It was a picture of Miss Rutherford when she was much younger, but you could still see that it was her. She wore a pale green dress and there was a glass vase of roses on the table beside her. It was a summery picture that made Josie think of life before the war.

“A friend painted that,” said Miss Rutherford.

Josie was impressed. “Someone famous?”

“He never had the chance to become famous. He was killed in the trenches in 1917, aged twenty-three.”

Josie absorbed this information. She wanted to ask, “Did you love him?”, but didn’t dare.

Miss Rutherford had returned to the kitchen, and now she came back with tea, bread, a pot of jam and even a small dish of butter.

“My mother made the jam. It’s excellent. Now, where do you want to sit?”

“May I sit on this?”

“This” was a long seat, like a sofa but more upright, with a wooden padded back that curved around one end. It was upholstered in faded green velvet and had two green and gold cushions.

“Yes, of course! The chaise longue. I like that too.”

“Chaise longue?”

“It means ‘long chair’. You’re supposed to lounge on it – though not when you’re drinking tea! You put your feet up and lie along the length and read a book and eat chocolates.”

“Chocolates!” said Josie blissfully. She had not seen any for a long time.

“Mmm… Those were the days, weren’t they?” Miss Rutherford poured tea into delicate fluted cups. “I bought the chaise longue when I first moved here, in 1914. I fell in love with it. It was in Hauptmann’s – that lovely furniture store in the King’s Road, near The Pheasantry.”

At the mention of the shop Josie’s heart had begun to race. But – “Haupt – do you mean Hampton’s?” she asked.

“Hampton’s! Yes, of course. They changed their name after the last war.”

“Changed their name? Why?”

“They were German. And Germans living in Britain suffered a good deal of harassment during the war. I believe the owner was even interned for a while as an enemy alien. Quite ridiculous. He’d lived here since his twenties.”

“So” – Josie was staring at her – “it’s the same family? They’re really Germans?”

“Yes. But the present owner was born here, and has an English name. They’re hardly foreigners now.”

But Josie was thinking: Alice Hampton is German. Her name should really be Alice Hauptmann.

“It was such fun furnishing this place,” said Miss Rutherford. “I shared it with a friend, another girl. And then the war began…”

“What did you do in the war?” It was hard to imagine that other war, long ago, and Miss Rutherford young in that green dress.

“I was a nurse,” she said. “I worked in France.” She sighed and shook her head. “And now we are in another war. I suppose your father is in the Services?”

“Yes. He’s somewhere in North Africa – in the Army.”

“You must miss him?”

“Yes.” She paused. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Miss Rutherford about Ted, all about him; somehow she felt her new acquaintance would not be shocked. But before she could speak Miss Rutherford asked, “And what do you and Edith get up to after school?”

Josie gave a start, and must have looked guilty, for Miss Rutherford laughed and said, “Don’t worry. I’m not checking up on you. But as an ARP Warden I’ve become very aware of everyone’s comings and goings. And Mrs. Prescott says you two often come in quite late, just before Mrs. Felgate gets home.”

“Oh, we…meet friends, and play,” said Josie. She felt as if Miss Rutherford had guessed about the bomb-site games – and yet, how could she? She continued, with an air of virtue, “On Wednesdays we go to the Red Cross Cadets group, so we know what to do in an emergency.”

Miss Rutherford smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. Do have some more bread and jam. Or will you be in trouble for spoiling your dinner?”

“I probably ought to go,” Josie said. “If they’re back Aunty Grace will wonder where I am.”

“That’s true.” She got up to see Josie out. “Come again, any time, won’t you?”

“Yes. Thank you. And for the tea.”

Edith had had a tooth out and was feeling sorry for herself. She had been warned not to rush about, so they sat at the top of the stairs and played board games and stroked Biddy and talked. Josie told her cousin about her visit to Miss Rutherford. Edith was jealous of the home-made jam and the look round the attics, but seemed otherwise uninterested in their neighbour, even when Josie described the chaise longue.

Josie did not tell Edith about the Hauptmanns. That was something she needed to think about alone.

Chapter Nine

Tell-tale

Knowing that Alice was German seemed to explain a number of things. Josie, glancing at the other girl next morning as she wrote steadily and neatly in her exercise book, thought it was no wonder that Alice was strange-looking, that she’d told tales (the Huns had no honour; everyone knew that), that she was so superior and so unfriendly. She probably had divided loyalties.

She wondered if Miss Hallam knew, or Miss Gregory. Miss Gregory was old enough to remember when the shop was Hauptmann’s.

Hauptmann. Silently she practised saying the name. Alice Hauptmann.

Now she knew something about Alice that none of the others knew, not even Edith. That gave her a sense of power. If she told, it would be a gift to them, and it would show that she was someone in her own right – not just Edith’s cousin, tagging along. And yet – she also had the power not to tell. And Alice couldn’t help being German.

Josie tried not to become involved in the small meannesses, the whispered slurs and covert punches that went on all that morning around Alice. It was a relief to be going to the Red Cross Cadets group after school; she and Edith had to hurry home to get to the church hall on time, so there was no chance to join in anything Pam and the others might be plotting.

As she practised splinting Edith’s imaginary broken arm, Josie thought again about Ted. He’d be here next week, on Wednesday. Aunty Grace had heard from Mummy and she’d said to Josie, “He can stay overnight – in Peter’s room. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Her face had shown nothing of her disapproval of Ted – but Josie knew.

If only he didn’t have to come
here
! She wished she could feel happy about the visit, but instead she was dreading it. She imagined Edith telling the other girls about him: “We’ve got Josie’s brother staying. He’s a conscientious objector.” Edith had said she wouldn’t tell, but she wasn’t so friendly now towards Josie at school; she might not be able to resist it. And then the girls would think it was no wonder Josie was “wet”. And she’d end up lumped together with Alice.

The next day, Thursday, was the last day of term before the Easter holidays. Josie and Edith set off in good time for school, both cheerful at the thought of the break. Edith was in particularly high spirits. They were near Ranelagh Gardens when a familiar voice called out, “Hey! Edith! Josie!”

“It’s Vic!” Edith smiled and waved.

Vic, with Stan and Ray behind him, had emerged from a side street opposite.

Edith looked around quickly to make sure no family friends or neighbours were watching, then said, “Come on!” and darted across the road. Josie followed.

“Haven’t seen you two around for a while,” said Vic.

“We got found out – had to see the headmistress.” Edith, wide-eyed and indignant, poured out the story. “That girl, Alice – you know, the one we don’t like – she sneaked on us. Told the headmistress we’d been on the bomb site. So we’re in trouble.”

“You want to get your own back, then,” Vic said.

“We are. We’ve been getting her every day after school.”

“Good for you.”

Edith’s eyes sparkled. “Except Josie, of course. Josie thinks we shouldn’t do it – says it’s not fair.”

Vic’s glance flicked to Josie. “So you’re a good girl, are you, Josie?”

Josie felt humiliated by Edith. She liked Vic and wanted him to think she was daring and fun, like her cousin. She said, “It’s just that—”

“We think she’s a pacifist,” said Edith, smiling her dimpled smile and suppressing giggles.

They all laughed. “Pacifist!” mocked Stan. He put his hands together as if in prayer and gazed heavenwards.

Josie looked straight at Vic. “Well, I know something about that girl that none of you know.”

Now they were all listening to
her
.

“She’s a German,” Josie said. “Her name isn’t really Hampton at all. It’s Hauptmann.”

“
German!
” Ray’s eyes lit up.

But Vic said, “Oh, yeah?” and smirked as if she was making up childish spy stories.

“It’s true!” She told them what Miss Rutherford had said, and was rewarded by the gradual change in Vic’s expression. Now he looked interested. Edith, she saw, was put out, both at being kept in the dark and at losing Vic’s attention.

But the boys’ reaction was beginning to frighten Josie. Ray was enthralled. “A German! A family of spies!” And Vic said, “They should be locked up in those camps. They shouldn’t be allowed to run a shop.”