Sleepover Club Blitz (5 page)

Frankie wanted to knit a pair of gloves, but the sisters thought that was a TEENY bit ambitious, so she made a scarf too. Unfortunately they didn’t have any silver wool (Frankie’s got a real thing for silver, as you know), so she chose some lurid rainbow-striped stuff instead.

I started on a cosy balaclava for Adam in royal blue. To my surprise, I didn’t drop
that
many stitches.

Lyndz’s scarf looked more like a doily, but then she DID have an attack of hiccups in the middle. Anyway, the sisters said we’d all done REALLY well for beginners, so we were quite chuffed with ourselves.

By the time our knitting lesson was over, it was time for tea. I was secretly hoping that “tea” meant home-made scones and fruit-cake. But it was basically a cup of milky tea with some slices of bread and margarine. I really, really HATE that old-style margarine, don’t you?

Then to our horror, Iris and Edith announced that it was bedtime.

“But it’s only seven o’clock!” gasped Lyndz.

“Children went to bed earlier in those days,” said Iris firmly. “Anyway, by the time we’ve boiled kettles for you all to wash, it’ll be seven-thirty.”

She was right. Boiling a kettle on a gas ring takes FOREVER. Plus, washing at the kitchen sink was an experience I could totally have done without.

Suddenly Fliss went pale. “What if we need the loo in the night?” she shuddered.

“I’m going to cross my legs till morning,” announced Frankie. “If you’ve got any sense, you’ll do the same.”

“I can’t wait that long!” wailed Fliss. “I’ve had too many cups of tea. If I don’t go soon, it’ll come leaking out of my ears!”

“Honestly, Fliss, you nutcase!” giggled Lyndz.

“Don’t worry,” said Kenny sweetly. “We’ll come with you.” Her expression was unusually innocent.

After we’d all washed and brushed our teeth, we trooped off with Fliss to use the (ahem!) facilities, one last time. For some reason, Kenny took ages.

“Sorry,” she said breezily, when she finally came out. “Couldn’t get it to flush for ages.”

It was time to go upstairs to our freezing cold bedroom. We were in the same one, luckily. Frankie and Kenny had to share a wonky iron bedstead. The rest of us had the big double bed.

When I took off my socks, the lino felt icy under my bare feet.

Lyndz’s teeth were chattering. “I’m keeping my vest on under my jim-jams,” she shivered.

Everyone thought this was a sensible idea. But we couldn’t WAIT to take off our liberty bodices. They’re these padded things which children wore OVER their woolly vests, and UNDER their shirts and cardies. I don’t know why they called them liberty bodices. Mine made me feel totally trapped!

Our bed swayed about like a boat every time anyone moved. Instead of a duvet, we had sheets and blankets and a shiny eiderdown, which slithered around as if it had a mind of its own.

The pillows had real feathers inside, except that some of them weren’t. Inside, I mean. They poked out through the pillowcase, like little spikes, and if you weren’t careful they gave you a nasty jab in the face.

It took us a good couple of hours to settle down. I was just drifting off to sleep, when the bedroom door flew open.

To my horror, I could hear the eerie wail of a siren coming from somewhere. Someone shone a torch into my eyes. It was Edith, wearing her coat over her nightie.

“Get some clothes on!” she said urgently. “We’ve got to go down to the shelter!”

And suddenly I wasn’t Rosie Cartwright any more. I was an evacuee, in the middle of an enemy air-raid. And I was taking part in the Blitz experience for real!!

We dragged our coats over our night things. My fingers were shaking with fright. I was convinced I could hear enemy planes droning overhead.

Lyndz hates to put her shoes on in the dark. She worries that spiders might have crawled inside while she wasn’t looking. So she went to switch the light on, but Edith snapped, “No lights after sunset, dear, you know the rules.”

I remembered Miss Pearson saying how they didn’t allow street lights during the war, in case enemy pilots spotted them from the air. People had to put up special “black-out” curtains, to stop the lamplight shining out into the street. Air-raid wardens patrolled the streets yelling, “Put that light out!” if anyone disobeyed.

It suddenly hit me how stressful it must have been, stumbling about in the dark, for night after night after night…

We followed Iris and Edith out into the garden.

The night sky was cloudy, and it was drizzling. The kind of night which makes slugs and snails ooze out from under their stones and groove happily around the garden, making icky slimy trails.

The idea of treading on slugs and snails normally freaks me out. But at this particular moment, I wasn’t nearly so scared of squishing slugs underfoot as I was of being caught out of doors in an air raid. My mouth was literally dry with fear.

Suddenly, we all froze in the middle of the garden.

We’d just seen the shelter.

“Rosie,” whimpered Fliss. “I can’t do this!”

“But it’s just a mound of earth!” gasped Frankie.

“Nonsense, it’s a perfectly good Anderson shelter, dear,” said Iris calmly. She glanced up and I heard an edge of fear in her voice. “Quickly now, everyone inside!” she barked.

I glanced up too, and saw the lights of a plane directly overhead. A flash of terror went through me and I dived into the shelter.

It wasn’t too bad once you got inside, though it did smell rather damp and earthy. The shelter was kitted out with camp beds and warm blankets. Plus, to everyone’s relief, there was a storm lantern.

Iris struck a match. There was a hissing sound and a little yellow flame sprang up. A pale wobbly light filled the shelter.

Suddenly I noticed an ominous-looking bowl. A horrible thought floated into my mind.

“What’s that for?” I asked casually, praying it wasn’t what I thought it was.

“That’s the chamber pot, dear,” beamed Iris. “In case anyone needs to go in the night.”

Fliss gave a stifled wail. Frankie just firmly crossed her legs.

We all sat around rather awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

It was past midnight by this time, but for some reason I wasn’t tired. But I was REALLY peckish!

Suddenly Kenny’s tummy gave a ginormous rumble. “I’d kill for a packet of crisps,” she muttered.

Luckily, the groovy Blitz sisters were prepared for all emergencies. Edith started to unpack a little picnic from a wicker basket. No crisps, disappointingly. Just a flask of hot cocoa, some home-made jam tarts and some sandwiches. But it was
très, très
welcome, believe you me!

Iris had brought a pack of Animal Snap (an authentic 1940s pack, naturally!). And for the next hour or so, the only sounds were the comforting hiss of the lantern, plus a total uproar of baa-lamb bleats, piggy grunts, moos, etcetera. Also our mad giggles, obviously!

“That’ll give the enemy something to think about,” giggled Kenny. “Hearing
those
noises wafting up into his cockpit!”

For some reason that made everyone crack up. Iris and Edith laughed till they cried. Their giggles were wickedly infectious. Before we knew it, we’d all collapsed into one of those marathon giggling fits, the kind which leaves everyone feeling exhausted, but stupidly happy at the same time.

Frankie wiped her eyes. “You two are now honorary members of the Sleepover Club,” she told the sisters. “You passed the giggle test!”

“Why, thank you,” said Iris, looking really touched.

“That is a true honour,” agreed Edith.

But before things could get too mushy, Iris burst into a stirring Blitz-type song, and we all joined in. Wow, I thought. We’re actually having a genuine wartime singsong, like the ones Miss Pearson told us about!

Luckily, 1940s songs are simple to pick up. Soon we were belting out
You Are My Sunshine
and
There’ll Be Bluebirds Over The White Cliffs of Dover
and other songs popular back then.

Eventually we felt brave enough (and tired enough!) to go to bed.

Kenny yawned loudly. “Think I’ll get my head down,” she said.

Lyndz gave me a nudge. “Hope the sisters don’t snore,” she whispered.

“Sssh, they’ll hear you,” I hissed.

Iris and Edith tactfully waited until we were tucked up in our camp beds, before they turned out the lantern. Then the shelter was plunged into inky darkness. I couldn’t even see my hand in front of my face!

“It must have been really scary for the kids doing this for real,” I said. (I was feeling more like my normal Rosie Cartwright self by this time.)

Edith’s voice came out of the dark. “It was. Very scary.”

Lyndz’s camp bed creaked as she sat up in the dark.

“Is that why you run this Blitz experience?” she blurted. “So people will understand what wars are like?”

There was a pause, then Edith sighed. “This is only a
little
taste of what a real war is like, dear,” she said.

“But it is one reason,” agreed Iris. “Also we don’t want people to forget what very extraordinary times they were.”

After a while, everyone went quiet. I didn’t see how I was ever going to get to sleep. I was shattered, but my brain was totally buzzing.

Suddenly Fliss’s camp bed boinged madly as she jumped out of bed. “AARGH! Something’s crawling on my face!” she shrieked.

Trust me, these are not words you want to hear when you’re lying in total darkness inside a Second World War shelter!

Of course, me, Lyndz and Frankie immediately leapt out of our beds, screaming like maniacs. I heard the quick scrape of a match, and once again the shelter filled with wobbly lantern-light.

Kenny sat up, rubbing her eyes. “What’s all the fuss?” she mumbled in a drowsy voice. “I’d just dropped off then.”

Edith and Iris exchanged glances. “Hmmn,” said Edith to Iris. “Our little Daisy’s just a bit too sweet and innocent, wouldn’t you say?”

Frankie’s eyes narrowed. “Kenz!” she barked. “What’s that empty matchbox doing next to Fliss’s pillow?”

Fliss yelped and knocked it to the floor.

“Yeah, sis,” said Lyndz suspiciously. “What have you been up to?”

“You
didn’t
smuggle in some creepy-crawlies,” I said. “You wouldn’t!”

Kenny’s face split into a grin. “Heh heh heh,” she chuckled. “Just because a girl’s got a soppy name, doesn’t mean she’s a total goody-goody!”

We glared at her.

Kenny rolled her eyes. “Honestly, it was just a baby earwig, you guys. I could’ve got something MUCH bigger and nastier. That outside loo is full of them!”

“I don’t care,” Fliss whimpered. “The earwig could be anywhere by now. I’ll be awake all night!”

“No, you won’t,” I told her. I pointed to what looked like an ex-earwig, very sad and squished on the floor. Fliss must have flattened it when she jumped out of bed. Everyone inspected it carefully to make sure it was dead. But Fliss totally refused to go back to bed until the earwig corpse had been put outside the door. Then she forced us to check the soles of her feet for any earwig remains. Finally Edith snuffed out the lamp again.

I couldn’t see how I’d EVER go to sleep after so much ruckus. But I must have been tireder than I thought. All at once, daylight was streaming through the open door into the shelter, and I could hear a bird singing at the top of its voice. I’d survived my first ever actual air-raid. (And hopefully my last!)

The sisters had gone back to the house to organise breakfast.

Kenny rubbed her eyes. “Ouf,” she said. “I don’t know about you guys, but I couldn’t handle that kerfuffle every night!”

“Huh,” Fliss mumbled darkly.

“The Blitz kids didn’t have a choice,” I pointed out.

“That’s true,” yawned Lyndz.

Frankie hugged her knees. “I tell you what,” she said sheepishly. “I totally believed in that air raid, last night. I felt like I’d really and truly gone back in time. Isn’t that dumb?”

It turned out we’d all felt exactly the same. For those few electric minutes, we’d got totally caught up in being our wartime selves. And Edith and Iris’s impressive play-acting skills (and their authentic Blitz sound effects!) had done the rest.

Our night in the shelter had made us all really hungry, so we trotted eagerly back up the garden and into the house.

I wasn’t too impressed when Edith announced that we were having porridge. I’d only had porridge once and it looked like something you’d use to glue wallpaper. But Iris and Edith’s porridge was dee-licious! I had no idea oatmeal could taste that good. Plus it REALLY fills your tum!

After a bracing wash (boy, cold water wakes you up FAST!), we put our prickly clothes back on and went to help Edith weed the garden.

We weren’t very clued up on which were plants and which were weeds, unfortunately, so we just whipped out the obvious ones, like bindweed and dandelions.

“You’re growing loads of veggies,” said Lyndz admiringly.

“Food was in short supply during the war,” Edith explained. “People used every inch of space to grow their own. Even parks and playing fields were dug up and turned into gardens.”

“Why was it called the Blitz anyway?” asked Kenny suddenly.

Edith smiled. “It comes from a German word,
blitzkrieg
, which means ‘Lightning War’. The Germans intended the war to be as swift and fierce as a lightning strike. They bombed British cities almost every night for a year, trying to batter them into submission.”

“That’s why I was evacuated, isn’t it?” said Frankie. Then she blushed. “My character, I mean,” she said hastily.

Edith told us other surprising facts. Like, did you know Buckingham Palace was hit by a bomb? Because I had NO idea!

Also, the Germans were dropping incendiary bombs – bombs designed to start fires. At one point, there were
1400
fires raging through the city of London!

“It must have smelled horrible,” shivered Lyndz.

“It did,” said Edith. “It also meant enemy pilots could see London from the air, even at night, because it was lit up like a huge bonfire.”

“How did people BEAR it?” I breathed.

“Because they had no choice,” said Edith. “Also because very ordinary people are sometimes quite
extraordinarily
brave.”

After we’d done the weeding, we helped Edith pick some vegetables. Iris was making veggie soup for lunch. We took them into the kitchen, and Iris immediately got us scrubbing and chopping their home-grown leeks and spuds.

“Life was very hard work then, wasn’t it?” sighed Lyndz. She was rinsing leeks under the tap, and it was taking ages.

“I suppose it was,” Iris agreed.

Edith plunked some more muddy vegetables in the sink. “But we did have an awful lot of fun!” she said mischievously.

Kenny looked doubtful. “Did you
really
?” she asked.

The sisters’ faces lit up. “Oh, YES, dear!” they breathed.

Edith’s eyes twinkled. “Let’s show them, Iris,” she said.

They led us into the sitting room, giggling like naughty girls. Edith rolled back the rugs. Iris took an ancient LP record out of its sleeve and put it on an old-fashioned turntable.

“This is called
In the Mood
,” she beamed. “And it’s played by the Glenn Miller Band.”

Brassy 1940s dance music filled the air, and to our utter amazement, Edith and Iris began to dance. And I MEAN dance. Those sisters really went for it!

“Is that the jitterbug?” Frankie shouted, over the sound of the band.

“Certainly is!” Iris called breathlessly. “Want to try?”

And those fabulous Blitz sisters spent the next half-hour happily teaching us to jitterbug, foxtrot and quickstep.