Time to Say Goodbye (3 page)

‘In future you should come in and out by the back door, which you can get to via the lane which runs round the back of the pub. But today, because Mrs Hainstock has come to the front, we’ll go down the side path,’ she told them. ‘It’s a fine afternoon so the back door will be open, but in case it isn’t I’ll go first and introduce you to my niece, who is also my partner.’ She smiled benignly at them. ‘What a foolish old woman I am – I don’t even know your names! But come into the kitchen and we’ll get all the introductions over at once. I walk up to the post office to buy some stamps, leaving Jill baking scones, and come back with three young people and good Mrs Hainstock.’ She chuckled deeply and Imogen, who noticed such things, realised that Miss Marcy had no local accent and spoke in clear, silvery tones. But Miss Marcy was ushering them into an enormous kitchen and smiling across at a flush-faced young woman who had just taken a tray of newly baked scones out of the oven, and looked round enquiringly as they entered.

‘This is my niece, Jill; she and I run the Canary and Linnet between us. It goes without saying that you must treat her as though she were me, and do exactly as she tells you.’

The girl, Jill, smiled at the billeting officer. ‘Good afternoon,’ she said formally. ‘Are these your children?’ She seized four of the hot scones, split and buttered them and handed them to the unexpected guests. ‘The kettle’s on the boil; I’ll make the tea in a minute,’ she said cheerfully.

‘It’s awfully good of you,’ Mrs Hainstock began, then heaved a sigh and gave Jill a rueful little grin. ‘I’d better explain. These young ladies are evacuees and your aunt has offered to put them up, for a while at any rate.’ She bit into a scone and the children realised that although the billeting officer had not had to endure the same lengthy train journey as they themselves had suffered, she had certainly had a hard and frustrating day. She had driven patiently over ill-maintained lanes, gone in and out of countless houses and cottages, and had not accepted so much as one offer of tea because she had not wanted to interrupt her ceaseless quest for accommodation. She must be at least as grateful as they were themselves that her search was over for the time being.

But Jill was looking enquiringly from face to face and Rita, swallowing hastily, spoke up. ‘I’m Rita Jeffries,’ she said, and jerked a thumb at the child standing next to her. ‘That one, the one with brown curly hair, is Debby Viner and the one with black hair and a fringe is Imogen Clarke.’

Jill smiled and held out her hand, then retracted it hastily. ‘Sorry, I can’t shake hands, I’m all over flour. But I’m Jill Marcy and although Auntie is very good to call me her partner, it is actually she who owns the good old Linnet, and is the landlady.’ She turned to the billeting officer. ‘I’m so sorry; cooking all afternoon seems to have addled my brain. So if these lovely young ladies aren’t your daughters . . .’

‘I’m the local billeting officer,’ Mrs Hainstock explained. ‘Ever since the beginning of the war it’s been my job to find places where city children will be safe from the threat of bombs and other perils. These three missed the initial evacuation for various reasons and the authorities were unable to find suitable accommodation for them in the area to which the rest of their classmates have gone. I was seconded to home them, but until your aunt offered . . .’

Jill smiled. ‘I’ve got quite used to Auntie turning up with stray cats and dogs, an injured rabbit she released from a gin trap, and other unfortunates,’ she said. ‘But children are a new departure, though a very welcome one.’ She turned to her aunt, who was pouring boiling water into a big brown pot. ‘You’ll put ’em in the attic? There are the camp beds which Mickey, Paul and I used years ago, when we went camping, and heaven knows we’ve bedding enough.’ She smiled at the girls. ‘Where have you come from? You look most awfully tired . . . anyone for another scone? But since you’re going to live with us you might as well make yourselves at home. Take your coats off and sit down at the table.’ She looked keenly at the three children. ‘I can see what you’re most in need of is something to eat, a nice hot cup of tea and then bed. I’ll take you up to the attic as soon as you’ve finished your scones and we’ll leave Auntie and Mrs Hainstock to sort out your ration books and so on whilst we do your unpacking and make your beds.’

‘Thank you very much,’ Rita said gratefully. It seemed as though she had elected herself as their spokeswoman, for now at any rate. She lowered her voice, glancing apprehensively towards the billeting officer. ‘We all come from Liverpool, but from different parts. We met for the first time at the railway station, but we got to know one another pretty well whilst Mrs Hainstock was driving us around, so when she thought we were all big pals and would prefer to be kept together we went along with it, and now it looks as though we’re in luck.’

Jill nodded her understanding. ‘I’m glad you explained, because so far as I can make out children were evacuated by school, so that at least they would know someone locally. Though in my experience kids soon learn to rub along with other kids.’

By now they had finished their scones and were on their way up to the small landing at the top of the attic stairs, where Jill pushed open a door and ushered the girls into the room beyond. It was large, with a sloping ceiling and two long, low windows, more or less at knee level, overlooking the back garden and a great many trees, whose heavy foliage screened what must be the back lane Auntie had mentioned. Against the end wall was an enormous chest of drawers, closely flanked by an equally enormous dressing table, whose spotted mirror proclaimed its age. Jill, who was beginning to disentangle the camp beds, jerked a thumb at the rest of the furniture. ‘Take a drawer each and start putting your things away,’ she advised. ‘It’s not the Ritz, but it’s dry and could be made comfortable, even attractive, if you want to stick posters and photographs and things like that on the walls. I’ll fetch up a couple of rugs so you don’t have to get out of bed on to bare linoleum, but I dare say you’ll make your own arrangements once you settle in.’

Imogen, beginning to carry the clothing from her haversack to the first long drawer in the chest, smiled at Jill over her shoulder. ‘It’s really lovely,’ she said. ‘I’ve always wanted to go to boarding school like the girls in the Angela Brazil stories, where they had dormitories just like this one. If I’d known we were going to have so much space we could have brought more things . . .’

‘Debby would have brought her teddy,’ Rita whispered. She and Imogen had unpacked practical striped winceyette pyjamas, but Debby’s were pink, fluffy and patterned with rosebuds. Rita had looked at Imogen just as Imogen turned to look at her, and they both grinned; already, they had realised that Debby was different from them. She kept a comb in her coat pocket and fussed with her hair when she thought no one was looking, and since the girls had been told not to wear their school uniform, but plain skirts and jumpers, they could see that Debby’s clothes were of far finer quality than theirs. However, she must have interpreted the glance they had exchanged, for she blushed vividly and burst into hurried speech.

‘I know my pyjamas are a bit sissy, but my grandmother bought them; she thinks girls ought to wear nightgowns, but the school said it must be pyjamas, so she chose the fanciest ones she could find.’

‘Good for your gran; your pyjamas are very practical
and
very pretty,’ Jill said firmly. ‘And now I’ll leave you to unpack the rest of your things whilst I go and get a meal organised. Would vegetable soup, ham sandwiches and a piece of gingerbread fit the bill? I made the gingerbread a couple of days ago so it’s had a chance to become really sticky and delicious. It’s one of the few cakes that improve with keeping.’ She went to the door, opened it, and then turned back. ‘Come down as soon as you’re ready. I expect Auntie’s laid the table, but in future that will be one of the jobs the three of you can manage. Oh, and I should have asked you if you have any questions.’

Three hands at once shot skywards, making Jill laugh, but she pointed to Rita, whose hand seemed to be waving more frantically than the others. ‘Yes? What would you like to know?’

‘Please, what do we call Miss Marcy and you?’

Jill laughed. ‘Everyone calls me Jill, and Miss Marcy is just Auntie. Of course she has another name but she hates it and refuses to allow it to be used. Any more questions?’

Imogen looked hopefully around the room. ‘Where’s the toilet?’ she asked bluntly. ‘I expect it’s in the back yard, like at home, but what do we do if we have to go during the night?’

‘Yes, it’s in the back yard, and at night you’ll have to use a chamber pot,’ Jill said equally bluntly. ‘If you’re shy, no doubt you can rig up a corner so you can be private. But of course it goes without saying that you will empty your own slops. You can carry a jug of cold water up each night to wash in in the morning, or you can come down early, when Auntie and I have got the kettle on, and take some warm water back upstairs. All right? I’m afraid we don’t have a bathroom as such; it’ll be a tin bath in front of the kitchen fire, the same as in all the villages. You won’t find many houses with bathrooms in the country.’

‘It’s all right, Jill, it’s the same at home,’ Imogen said quickly.

‘Good. Then you know the score on that front,’ Jill said. She pointed at Debby, whose hand was still waving in the air. ‘Yes, love?’

‘I just wondered how we get to school if it’s in the village we passed through earlier,’ Debby said shyly. ‘Is there a bus that we can catch?’

Jill snorted. ‘A
bus
? My dear child, a walk of two miles or so is nothing. There’s a farm a couple of hundred yards along the lane where the evacuees are younger than you, and they walk to school every day. Even when Mr Pilgrim needs to go into town and gives the boys a lift, he wouldn’t have room to take you as well. So I’m afraid it’s Shanks’s pony. If you’re unhappy about it, I dare say we could try to find you another billet, but I can’t guarantee we’d succeed.’

Debby looked horrified, and a ready flush rose in her cheeks. ‘I didn’t mean . . . you said we could ask . . . it was only a question,’ she stuttered. ‘I don’t need a bus to take me to school, honest to God I don’t. It truly was just a question, though rather a silly one. Please forget I ever opened my mouth.’

Jill smiled. ‘Don’t apologise; it’s far better that you should know the score right from the start,’ she said. ‘See you presently.’

As soon as the door closed behind her, Rita flew to the attack. ‘Debby Viner, who the devil do you think you are?’ she asked scornfully. ‘I just hope we don’t get thrown out, ’cos I already like this place and want to stay here.’ She glanced at Imogen. ‘You’re the same, ain’t you?’

Imogen nodded. ‘Yes, if you’re asking whether I want to stay here or move on: I’m for staying. I had a good walk to my school in Liverpool and never thought twice about it. There were trams, of course, and buses, but we thought it was a waste of a penny to ride when we could walk for free.’ She glanced apologetically at Debby who was staring at her, her mouth open. ‘Cheer up. I wanted to know about transport too. I take it you’re as keen to live here as Rita and me?’

Debby nodded so violently that her brown curls bounced. ‘I do want to stay here,’ she said huskily. ‘It’s just that I’m an only child and I suppose I’m spoilt . . .’

‘Yes; well I reckon we’d guessed that,’ Rita said. She had been looking severe, but apparently noticing the tears which had formed in Debby’s large brown eyes she crossed the space between them and punched the other girl lightly on the shoulder. ‘Don’t cry, you idiot, I didn’t mean to upset you. So are we all of the same mind? That we’ll stay here, with Auntie and Jill, and tell our parents that we’re settled?’ When the others nodded enthusiastically she began to pile her belongings into the second drawer of the chest. ‘Hurry up, you two. I’m starving to death, and so tired I could sleep on a clothes line. I bet that vegetable soup will be rare good, and the ham sandwiches better. I can’t wait to find out.’

Downstairs in the big comfortable kitchen, Jill and Auntie looked at one another and Jill raised her eyebrows. She was slicing and buttering bread whilst Auntie was carving ham and making up the sandwiches, and now she said, ‘Well? I got the impression that Mrs Hainstock wasn’t too happy about leaving her charges with us; but of course she didn’t stand a chance once you’d made up your mind. I wonder what she’ll tell the authorities when she goes back to HQ, wherever that may be.’

Auntie sniffed. ‘Poor little creatures! That Mrs Hainstock is a nice woman, but she has no imagination. I saw at a glance that those kids were lost and frightened, but making the best of it. The minute I said I’d have them I could see the relief on their little white faces.’ She chuckled. ‘I don’t think any of them has ever been inside a public house before, but they’re bright kids. They can go in and out of the back door and up and down the back staircase without setting foot on licensed premises. Then there’s the small parlour which used to be the Bottle and Jug. It’s nothing special, but they can go in there to do homework or play quiet games; they’ll find a use for it, I’m sure. Why, the landlady of the Running Dog has
her
grandchildren living with her, has had ever since the outbreak of war, and no one objects to that, so far as I know. If you ask me Mrs Hainstock will simply give the authorities our address, and we’ll hear no more about it.’ She looked curiously across at her niece. ‘What do you think of them? I heard you chattering and laughing whilst you made up the beds.’

‘They’re nice kids, from good homes, and will fit in well if only because they want to,’ Jill said at once.

Auntie nodded slowly. ‘I reckon you’re right,’ she said. ‘And you’d best give them a shout, because we don’t want them falling asleep now and waking up starving hungry in the middle of the night.’

When the girls made their way back up to the attic after the supper Auntie had provided, they could scarcely wait to congratulate each other on their good fortune. Rita, as usual, was the first one to put it into words. ‘If we’d not made Mrs Hainstock let us go into the post office and ask the lady behind the counter if we could use her toilet, then said when we came out that we wouldn’t go any further, we’d never have met Auntie,’ she pointed out, wrenching her thick jumper over her head and beginning to unbutton the blouse beneath. ‘I reckon it was fate.’