Tin Hats and Gas Masks (5 page)

They all sat in the front room until Mrs Dover rose, saying she was going to make some sandwiches for lunch.

‘Come along, Anita, then you can go upstairs to your room and read a book for a while to let Johnny and his mother have some time together.’

Johnny, grateful for the chance to discuss the birthday-cake, gave everyone a big grin before shuffling himself into a more comfortable position on the sofa.

‘Annie can come out with us later, can’t she, mum?’

‘If she wants to. I’ll have to catch a fairly early train back. Don’t want to be travelling across London after dark.’

‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’m all packed ready.’

‘Packed. But you’re not coming back, Johnny. Not back to London you’re not.’

‘Not … well no, of course not. Not today, straight away like. But in a few days when it’s sorted out. I – I was going to talk to you about that, but I got me things together in case you thought it was easier to come with you. When we go out I’ll show you me school. But this way I’ll be here for Annie’s birthday on Monday so that’s good.’

He leant closer to her, ‘Got the cake in the bag, have you? I’ll—’

‘No, son, no to both. You’re staying here where you are
reasonably safe, and I’m sorry about the cake but sometimes you know you ask for the craziest things.’ She laid her hand on his arm in a sympathetic gesture, ‘I did try, Johnny, but—’

‘Ssshh,’ he whispered as Annie appeared in the doorway with a plate of sandwiches in her hand.

Later both children went to the station with her. As the train pulled away Johnny felt more disconsolate even than he had when he first arrived.

‘It’s a shame, Johnny, but I guess she’s thinking about your safety,’ Annie sympathized.

He shook his head and his eyes were sad. ‘No, she’s not. She’s enjoying the factory and she doesn’t need to worry about me stuck away down here. She’s got used to not having me around, I could tell. This bloody war, Annie, it’s spoiling everything.’

The evening meal was ready when they returned. Johnny was quiet, but Mrs Dover made up for his lack of conversation, and Annie valiantly tried to fill in the gaps. Mr Dover, as usual simply ate, then pushed his plate away and waited for the next course.

Both children opted for an early night, and Johnny was in bed and trying not to think of the fiasco the day had been, when Annie came in.

‘Do you want to talk about it, Johnny, or about something else?’ she said.

‘I don’t know, Annie. It’s been the most disappointing day of my life.’

‘I’m sorry, Johnny. I know how badly you wanted to go home.’ Johnny sat up in bed. He looked earnestly at Annie.
‘It’s not just disappointment over not going home,’ he said. ‘She let me down over something else that was very important.’

‘I haven’t trusted grown-ups for a long while, Johnny, because that’s happened to me too.’

He gazed at her. ‘Someone didn’t do what you were absolutely certain sure they would do?’

‘Well, it was more not keeping their word. When I first went to boarding-school, years ago. I didn’t want to go, and I was told that if I didn’t like it I could come home. I hated it, Johnny. At first I used to cry into my pillow all night. I wouldn’t let anyone else see because I thought that when I wrote home and told them, they would come and fetch me.’

‘And they didn’t? Oh, poor Annie.’

‘My mother wrote and said it was always strange at first, but that once I was used to it I would enjoy it. I tried again, but she ignored it. That’s when I realized I was there for the rest of my school life, and that there never had been any intention of bringing me home if I was unhappy.’

‘Here, Mum brought some chocolate down, I’ve been saving it to share with you.’ He threw back the bedclothes and went over to the dressing-table to fetch it. ‘It’s only a small bar and not your favourite, but it’s nice.’

‘Thanks. Anyway Johnny, I wasn’t looking forward to being on my own here. It will be better with the two of us.’ She bit into the half-bar of chocolate Johnny gave her. ‘Mmm, it’s scrumptious.’

Much later, when Annie had returned to her own room,
Johnny snuggled under the blankets and allowed their conversation and confessions to wander round in his head. Compared to her life he’d had it good until now, he thought. And his mum had tried to explain about the cake – or rather the lack of it.

‘It was such short notice, Johnny. I mean, if you had let me know a week before, or even three or four days, I reckon I could have done something for you, but a telegram the day before.…’

He fancied he could hear his own voice again. ‘But on the phone you said you could.’

‘I said I would try, Johnny, that I’d do me best. And I did try, but I’m working all hours now, you’ve got to remember that. There is a war on you know. Anyway, what’s so special about this Annie?’

‘Aw, nothing really. Just that it’s her birthday on Monday and she ain’t never had a birthday-cake of her own.’

‘What you never have you never miss. Still, it was a nice idea, Johnny. Here, buy her some fancy cakes or something.’ She pressed two half-crowns into his hand. ‘You can get yourself something you want with the rest.’

He woke early on Sunday morning, crept downstairs and made a pot of tea for Mr and Mrs Dover. He found the tray and the biscuit-tin, took out four biscuits and carefully laid them in the saucers. Then, with a steady hand, he poured the tea.

He placed the tray on the floor outside their bedroom door. He knocked loudly, turned the handle, then quickly bent down to pick up the tray again.

He knew Mrs Dover had plenty of cooking-stuff. ‘I’ve always kept a good larder,’ he had heard her boasting to friends on the telephone not so long ago when she invited them over for a meal, ‘so I’m well in hand with my rations.’

He would offer to get the breakfast too, and afterwards, maybe he’d even wash up for good measure, then he would ask her again if she would make a proper birthday-cake for Annie.

With the tray in his hands and his eyes watching the ground he entered the room, and tripped over the realistic-looking tiger-mat by the bed. With the crash of china echoing round him, and the tea and soggy biscuits soaking into the pink carpet, Johnny knew his efforts would all be in vain.

Mr Dover was cross and irritable over the incident, but his wife, to Johnny’s delighted surprise, was not only reasonable, but seemed pleased.

‘Not pleased that I had spilt the blooming stuff all over the bedroom carpet,’ he said to Annie later, ‘but that I’d bothered to make it for them.’

‘Shouldn’t think Mr Dover ever lifts a finger to help,’ was Annie’s comment.

Taking advantage of his current stock of goodwill, Johnny went through to the kitchen later in the morning when Annie was deeply engrossed in her book.

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ he asked Mrs Dover.

‘No, I don’t think so, Johnny.’

‘I was always quite useful to me mum at home.’

‘I’m sure you were, son, but you know I’ve two children
of my own, grown-up now of course, well, you met Alison at Christmas. Anyway I learnt a few of the ways of children when they were young and I’ve not completely forgotten. So, tell me now what is it you want?’

‘Gosh, you’re OK, you are,’ he said. ‘Well, I’ll put me cards on the table. I want Annie to have a birthday-cake tomorrow when she comes in from school.’

‘Johnny, I thought we had been through all that.’

‘It needn’t be posh. Just a cake with her name on. And happy birthday,’ he added.

‘I told you I’ll get some fancies.’

‘You can have them anytime – well almost anytime.’

She was silent for so long Johnny thought he had lost the day, then she said, ‘Would a sponge do?’

‘Can it be iced?’

She sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do. I’m not promising, mind. We don’t get any more rations in the country than they do in the cities, except maybe eggs, which will help, but we’ll see. Now off you go, and try not to antagonize Mr Dover any more today, will you, Johnny?’

He skipped out of the kitchen, then, on impulse rushed back, almost knocking Mrs Dover over.

‘I just remembered. I can give you some money towards the stuff, the ingredients. If you say what they come to.’

‘They won’t cost too much, don’t you worry about that. Now, out of the way, I’ve a Sunday dinner to cook, young man.’

Johnny was on his best behaviour for the rest of the day. He even did his weekend homework without being
reminded. Usually he was reading until bedtime, and had to scramble to do it before school on Monday.

‘I can’t understand why you don’t get down to it as soon as you come in from school on Friday afternoon,’ Mrs Dover often said, ‘then you would know you had the whole weekend clear for any other activities. Putting off anything never does any good, it has to be done eventually. In any case you want to pass the scholarship, don’t you?’

‘I’m not bothered,’ Johnny had said several times. ‘I shall have a barrer like Dad when I leave school, anyway.’

‘But you like reading and writing and talking,’ Mrs Dover insisted on one occasion.

‘Yes I do, but I can read when I finish work each day, and talking will be part of me job, won’t it? I mean I won’t have to pass the scholarship for that, will I?’

Mrs Dover smiled and shook her head at him.

On Monday morning there was no post at all for Annie. She had had her parents’ card last week with the pound note, of course, but….

Johnny gave her the birthday-card he had bought during the week, and that was all she had. He could hardly believe it. Why, in his house birthdays were special no matter how old you were. Birthdays and Christmas were the two highspots of the year.

The strange thing was that Annie didn’t seem bothered by the lack of interest, although she did seem happy with the card he gave her. He had chosen one with a bunch of balloons on the front and had written each letter of her name in five of the balloons. Perhaps he shouldn’t have
gone to all the trouble of a cake after all, he reflected, when he should have been concentrating on his English lesson. Annie was used to a different kind of life from his, and maybe what his mum had said was right, that what you didn’t have you didn’t miss.

They walked to school together as usual, and Johnny said as casually as he could manage, ‘Have a nice day, Annie.’

‘Thanks.’ As she turned away to go to her classroom she said, ‘Johnny, thank you for the card, it’s lovely. I’ve got it in my satchel.’

They didn’t always walk home together; often Johnny was with his pals and Annie with hers, but on Annie’s eleventh birthday Johnny watched out for her. He was torn between rushing back to see if Mrs Dover had managed to bake a cake, and waiting to see if Annie was chattering to Janet. He didn’t like Janet much. She treated him as though he were Annie’s cross to bear – the boy who had to be looked after. But she was Annie’s friend.

‘She’s very nice when you know her properly,’ she told him, ‘and she can’t help her high falutin manner, as you call it. That’s just the way she is, Johnny. You have to learn to take people for what they are in the end you know.’

Johnny often thought how wise Annie was. But he never let her see he thought so. He reached Kerry Avenue seven minutes before she did and almost flew in through the back door. Mrs Dover was in the kitchen.

‘Goodness, Johnny, you startled me,’ she said. ‘Change out of your school things quickly now and then you can help me.’

By the time Annie arrived he knew there was not only a cake, but a special birthday meal. He hustled her upstairs.

‘You’re early Johnny,’ she said. ‘I looked for you on the way home.’

‘I’m helping Mrs Dover, I won’t be long.’

When she came downstairs fifteen minutes later Mrs Dover sent them both into the front room. ‘I can manage beautifully now Johnny, thank you,’ she told him.

For once Johnny’s book didn’t hold his attention. Usually he was so absorbed he heard and saw nothing but the characters and action of the story. Tonight, however, he was listening to every sound from the kitchen and dining-room. When Mr Dover came down from his study and put the six o’clock news on Johnny willed himself to keep absolutely quiet, for nothing must spoil this evening for Annie.

He thought she looked a bit sad, and that was understandable. He writhed inside with excitement when he thought about the surprise she would soon have. Mrs Dover had shown him the cake when he came in from school. It was a sponge, iced in white, with HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANITA drawn in blue. He wished she had put Annie instead of Anita on it, but still it was a cake, and it did have her name on. He hadn’t bought her a present, but he intended to go into Bushton on Saturday and buy one.

When Mrs Dover came in shortly afterwards she said, ‘Right, the meal’s ready. Extra special one tonight because it is Anita’s birthday. Come along then.’

In the dining-room the table looked magnificent. A golden-brown chicken had pride of place at one end, ready
for Mrs Dover to carve. There were three large covered dishes, a smaller open one filled with stuffing and a steaming gravy-boat. By Annie’s plate was a birthday-wrapped parcel and a card. Johnny watched her.

‘Oh,’ she said, ‘is this for me?’

‘It is. Are you going to open it now before I carve?’

Annie took the paper off carefully. Inside was a white box. She lifted the lid to reveal a multicoloured necklace.

‘Oh, isn’t it pretty? Thank you so much.’

‘I’m glad you like it,’ Mrs Dover said.

‘Are you going to serve that bird before it’s cold?’ Mr Dover’s voice cut across the silence. ‘She can look at her present later.’

Annie opened the card, then she smiled at Johnny. ‘It’s like Christmas with a chicken, isn’t it?’ she said.

It was a happy meal. Annie put the necklace on and Johnny thought it looked like coloured diamonds, it sparkled so when the light caught it. Even Mr Dover was moved to say, ‘You had better not get near the window with it or you’ll have the warden after you.’

The tureens were filled with roast potatoes, carrots and parsnips, and to everyone’s surprise and delight, runner beans.