Rosie Goes to War (10 page)

The sirens start just as we finish washing up. I nearly drop the plate I'm drying. Nell catches it and puts it away in the cupboard in one smooth move.

‘Wow! Awesome reflexes!'

‘For Chrissakes, I wouldn't need them if you weren't so flipping clumsy. I told you we can't afford no breakages, so watch what you're doing.'

‘Sorry,' I say, trying not to get annoyed with her. Doesn't she ever chill? We could've had a laugh about it, but she has to complain instead.

May grabs the tea-towel out of my hands and dries hers. ‘There ain't no time for rowing, Nell. I'm sure she didn't do it on purpose.'

‘No, I didn't.'

‘There you go. Now, we'd better get shifted before Jerry gets here.' She turns to Nelly. ‘They said on the radio it's going to be freezing tonight. We'd better get the old coats. Those blankets ain't going to keep us warm.'

‘All right. Get down there and get the lamp on. It might help warm the place a bit.'

‘Will you bring my coat?'

‘Yeah, now get going, before we're blown to kingdom come.'

I follow Nelly into the hall to grab my jacket. As I reach for it on the hallstand I look in the mirror and catch a glimpse of Great-aunt Eleanor behind me. At last! I spin round, expecting to be back in Gran's hall, but Nelly is standing there, glaring at me. I nearly burst into tears.

‘Is that all you've got?' Nell tuts at my jacket. ‘That won't keep the cold out.' She pushes me out of the way and then almost dives into the mass of coats hanging on the stand. I move so that I can look in the mirror again, but it's just my own miserable face staring back at me.

Nell is muttering something but I can't hear what she's saying as her head's still buried in the coats. I step back just as she does. She's got her arms full of coats. She hands me one. ‘Here, our nan's old coat. It'll keep the chill out.'

‘Is that real fur?' I don't think I've ever touched real fur before. It feels gorgeous, but I don't think I should be liking it.

‘Too right. Lovely bit of rabbit, that is. May's got our other nan's fox fur. I prefer grandad's old army coat meself. Here, hold that a minute.' She dumps the other fur coat, a lovely golden brown colour, in my arms and pulls the heavy woollen coat on. It comes down to her ankles. ‘He was a big man,' she grins, pulling it round her and tying the belt and picking up her sister's coat. ‘This old coat kept him warm in the trenches in the last war. I'll be snug as a bug in this.'

‘I don't know if I should wear fur,' I say.

‘Why? You allergic or something?'

‘I don't think so, but aren't they illegal or something?'

That wipes the smile off Nelly's face. ‘For gawd's sake, what you on about now? That's a good coat, that is, not some mangy old rag from down the market. And what do you mean, “illegal”? That was our nan's best coat, and since she died it's ours. There ain't nothing illegal in this house, so don't you go saying there is, right? What's the matter with you? You only wear mink, is that it, Miss Posh?'

Now what have I said? ‘I told you, I'm not posh. I don't have any fur, nor does my mum. It's just …' I stop, realising that my views on fur products are probably a modern thing, so Nelly's not likely to understand what I'm on about. Maybe I
should
pretend to be allergic, but I don't fancy having to sit out in the shelter in just this jacket.

‘Well, we ain't got time to argue about it now,' Nelly pushes past me. ‘You can wear it or freeze, I don't care. Make sure you shut the back door behind you. We don't want to come back and find Tiddles eating our rations.' And then she's gone.

There's a huge boom and the whole house shudders. I don't hang around. With the fur coats in my arms I sprint down the hall and through the kitchen, slamming the back door behind me. The sirens are still wailing, and now there's the distinct sound of aircraft flying over. I can hear the ack-ack-ack of the anti-aircraft guns, and as I run down the garden to the shelter I can see the lights searching the sky. Nelly is just in front of me, pushing aside the thick curtain inside the doorway. We pile inside and the curtain swishes back to block out the light from the lamp.

‘There you are,' says May. ‘You took your time.'

May takes her coat and puts it on. ‘Thanks, love. Ooh, I do love this old coat. When the war's over I'm gonna remodel it so's I can wear it up town.' She sits down next to her sister and looks at me. ‘Don't you want to get that on, Queenie? It's blooming cold out here. If this goes on for long you'll be freezing your bits off.'

I look at the coat in my arms, torn between wanting to put it on and taking a stand against animal cruelty. I see Nelly glaring at me from the corner of my eye and decide I'd better go with the flow and worry about political correctness another time – or
in
another time. Ha! Get it? Oh crap, now I'm being stupid. It's bloody cold and the coat looks really cosy. I slip it on, feeling its heavy weight on my shoulders. The lining is silky as the coat settles around me.

‘Your nan must have been a big woman too,' I say to Nelly as sit down opposite her and snuggle into the coat. Mmm, it feels so glamourous. I'm like a little kid dressing up in her mum's clothes.

‘Yeah, Dad says she was a substantial woman,' says May. ‘I'm glad we take after the other side of the family.'

‘Queenie ain't never had a fur coat,' says Nell. ‘Thought we'd nicked it, she did.'

May looks furious. ‘Bloody cheek!'

‘I did not!' I snap. ‘Don't put words in my mouth, OK? Where I come from we've got animal rights and people who would freak if you wore this in public. I saw a picture once of some catwalk models who had blood thrown at them for wearing fur. It was gross.'

The sisters look at me as though I've gone mad. I glare back at them. I can feel my cheeks flushing, and I wish I've never said anything about this.

An almighty explosion shakes the whole shelter. It happens so quickly I don't have time to react.

‘Jesus, that was close,' says Nelly. ‘Wait for it …'

Before I can ask what we have to wait for, there's a load of clattering as debris rains down on the shelter roof, and I duck, holding my hands over my head, expecting the whole lot to fall in on us. Puffs of dust seep in under the door, making us cough. The whole ground is shaking, we're choking on the dust and the noise is terrific.

What will Mum and Dad think if I just disappear forever? They might blame Gran. There'll be a police search – people will think I've been kidnapped or murdered or something.
Oh my God! This is getting serious. I've got to find a way home.
I curl up on the bench and covered my ears, trying to work out how on earth I can get back to my own time when I had no idea how I ended up in 1940 in the first place.

As the raid goes on and on, I wish I was at home, with Mum and Dad. I miss them so much. I'd hate it if I never saw them again. But then again, if I'm dead I won't know the difference, will I?

After what seems like ages, the noise is coming from further away.

‘Sounds like Jerry's hitting the City now,' says Nell.

‘Good,' says May. ‘I'm busting for a pee. I'm going to nip out.'

‘Is it safe?' I ask.

‘Gawd knows. But if I don't go now, I'm going to wet meself.' She pulls aside the curtain and pushes open the door. I get a glimpse of lightbeams shining through the darkness, searching for planes. The buildings are black silhouettes, outlined by the orange glow of fires. The little patch of garden lit by the glow of the paraffin lamp is covered in dust, broken bricks and pieces of charred wood.

‘Be careful!' I shout, as May trips on something and only just manages to keep her footing.

‘I'm all right. Just shut that door before Jerry spots the light.'

Nell stands up and closes the door. ‘She'll be all right. It's only a couple of yards to the lavvie.'

‘I know,' I mutter under my breath, trying to stop my heart from racing right out of my body. ‘I know.' I sit up. ‘If it's all right to go out, can we go back in the house now?' I shift from one butt cheek to the other, trying to ease the ache from sitting on a hard wooden bench for hours.

‘Not yet. We have to wait for the all-clear to sound. The planes could turn around any time, and if they've got any bombs left, the beggers will drop 'em anywhere. You might as well get comfortable. We'll probably be here all night now.'

‘I don't think I can sleep.' I draw my knees up to my chest, pulling the coat over my feet. Ah, that's warmer at least.

‘You'd better try. We've still got to go to work in the morning – unless the factory gets hit. If you don't get no sleep, you'll be good for nothing. That's when girls get machine needles through their fingers.'

‘Eww, that sounds gross.'

Nelly frowns. ‘You keep saying that. What does it mean?'

‘What?'

‘Gross.'

I shrug. ‘You know, horrible, nasty?'

‘Then why don't you say so? I ain't never heard anyone say “gross” when they mean “horrible” before. Round here a “gross” is twelve dozen.'

‘Really? I didn't know that. But I'm pretty useless as Maths. So, if a gross is twelve dozen, does that mean twelve times twelve? ‘

Nell shakes her head. ‘You really are daft, ain't you?'

I can't help giggling at her face. Now I know where Great-aunt Eleanor got her collection of disapproving looks from.

The door opens and May comes back in. ‘That's better,' she sighs. ‘I thought I was going to burst.'

‘You could always use the pot under the bunk,' says Nelly. ‘You don't have to go out there.'

May wrinkles her nose. ‘No thanks. That's the last resort, that is.'

I look under the bench where Nelly pointed. On the floor is a large china potty. For a moment it doesn't click, then I recognise it. The last time I saw it was on the windowsill at the top of the stairs in Gran's house. There, it's full of cactus plants. I remember when Gran first told me what it was, I laughed so hard I nearly wet myself, imagining Gran squatting over it and getting prickled by the sharp cactus needles. Mum told me off for being rude, but Gran thought it was hilarious too.

‘That's your “gazunder”!' I say. That's what Gran calls it, because it ‘goes under' the bed, ready to be used if someone needed to go in the night and didn't want to go outside to the toilet.

‘That's right,' said May. ‘And I ain't using it in front of you two. It ain't dignified.'

I don't think I could either. ‘I know what you mean. My gran keeps spiky cactus in hers. You definitely don't want to be using that!'

May shrieks with laughter, just like Gran does. ‘Oh my God,' she says (only it sounds more like ‘gawd' with her accent). ‘Prickly plants in a gazunder! Oh, don't! Ha ha ha!'

Nell tuts. ‘You're as daft as each other, you two.' We just look at her, grinning like Cheshire cats.

The long, uninterrupted wail of the all clear starts up at last. ‘Thank God,' says Nell. ‘We can sleep in our own beds tonight. Let's get out of here before Jerry changes his mind again.'

We pile back into the kitchen and take off our big coats. The clock on the wall says ten thirty. I offer to put the coats back on the hall stand. Who knows? Maybe I'll just fall through it into the future. I approach it a bit nervously. I mean, what if it grabs me flings me to another time? I could end up anywhere. No, that's daft, as Nelly would say. I saw Great-aunt Eleanor in there earlier, so it must still be connected to my time somehow. I just need to figure it out. I hang the coats up, staring into the mirror, willing it to take me home. Nothing. Damn.

I'm exhausted and totally fed up, but go back to help the others finish tidying the kitchen before we go to bed. Nelly is as fussy about getting things done now as she is in the future, and I reckon it's a good idea to keep on her good side. When the kitchen is spick and span, we say goodnight and go to our rooms.

As I lie shivering in bed, I think about the day, and how different it's been from the way I spend my time in the twenty-first century. Working in the factory is sort of fun at the moment, but I can see that it could become really boring if I had to do it day after day, week after week. I've never particularly liked school, but I don't like the idea of having to leave to go to work, like Nelly and May did when they were only fourteen.

I yawn and turn over, snuggling under the covers. I really must start to work out how to get back to my time. But right now, I'm just sooo tired. Maybe when I wake up, I'll be home again …

CHAPTER TEN

It's still dark when I wake up. I know straight away I'm still in 1940, because May is shaking me awake.

‘Come on, lazybones. Time to get up. Shift yourself, Queenie, or we'll miss the bus.'

I groan and turn over, pulling the covers over my head. ‘Go away. It's the middle of the night.' How can she be so bloody cheerful this time of the morning, when it's freezing cold and miserable?

May laughs. ‘Don't you country bumpkins get up at the crack of dawn to milk the cows?'

Not again. ‘That joke is getting old, May. I told you, I don't live on a farm. Seriously this is not even dawn. It's still dark.'

‘Come on, it's nearly Christmas. It's always dark this time of year. We still got to get to work, though, so shift your bum.' She tries to pull the covers off me, but I grab them back and roll myself up so she can't get them. I'm not getting out of here till I really have to. May gives up. ‘Suit yourself, Lazybones. There's a nice warm cuppa downstairs, but if you don't get a move on, you won't have time to drink it. Nell says we ain't waiting for you today, so I hope you remember how to get to work on your own.'