Whistling in the Dark (8 page)

Miss Sanderson had told Joan’s class at school that many of these long-distance vehicles were driven by intrepid Auxiliary Territorial Service drivers, who worked in teams of two, taking it in turns to drive while the other slept in the back. They were setting out from port to deliver the strictly rationed food, which had come in at such risk to the merchant ships, all over the country to be fairly distributed among a hungry British population.

“They’re a vital lifeline,” Miss Sanderson had said. “We all need to dig for victory here, by growing as many carrots, cabbages and potatoes in our back gardens and allotments as we can. But there’s no way we can survive without imports from abroad, and the crews aboard merchant ships are risking their lives to bring them to us – so we must waste nothing.”

Joan, who could hardly remember what a banana tasted like, found herself thinking about Dai and his fellow merchant seamen as she watched the traffic go by. Among the army vehicles and big commercial trucks with suppliers’ names emblazoned on the sides were smaller local lorries. They all made slow progress, stopping and starting, as they queued to get away from the dock area and begin their proper journey. Joan gazed at them as they passed. She was tired out. It seemed like a very long time since breakfast and she longed to get this awful trip over and go home. She knew Mum would be terribly anxious if they returned late, and that would be extra bad for her, as she was feeling ill.

Now the long line of lorries and vans slowed and came to a standstill right in front of her. One of them, a medium-sized unmarked vehicle – not an army one − was idling its engine a few feet away from where she was sitting. There were two men in the front. She couldn’t see the driver, but the other one was leaning his elbow on the open window nearest to her, drumming his fingers and looking impatiently at the way ahead. If he had glanced down, their eyes would have met. It was fortunate that they didn’t, because Joan recognized him at once, even though he wasn’t in uniform.

It was Captain Ronnie Harper Jones.

CHAPTER 12

F
or a second Joan thought of calling out to him. She had the crazy idea that he might even offer Audrey and her a lift home in the back of the van. But she immediately thought better of it, especially as Audrey was nowhere to be seen and there was no knowing when she would turn up again. Anyway, it was already too late. The traffic jam had eased and the whole column began to move forward.

Joan settled down again with her chin on her hands. She thought gloomily that she seemed fated to keep encountering Ronnie all over the place. Exactly what he was doing here she had no idea. She imagined it was something to do with his work with the Army Catering Corps. At least it was better than seeing him at their house. If only Mum wouldn’t encourage him! Surely she couldn’t
like
him, not all that much? Not enough to want to dance cheek to cheek with him? But clearly she did.

Again, Joan checked her watch. She wished she had something to read or, better still, that she had her sketchbook with her. She could have done some drawing to pass the time. But she didn’t even have a newspaper, let alone a pencil and paper.

It was an enormous relief to see Audrey running back up the street at last. But she was crying again. Her ruined make-up was blotched all over her cheeks. Joan put a comforting arm around her.

“Did you see Dai?” she asked.

Audrey shook her head and, for a while, she was mute with unhappiness. Then she said, “They wouldn’t let me anywhere near the dock. There were lots of people going in and out of the entrances, but they were all dockers with passes. I told them at the gate that it was really urgent and asked them if they could get a message through, but they wouldn’t listen. Told me to get off home quick sharp before it gets any darker.”

“I suppose we’d better do that,” said Joan. “No use staying here now. And we’ve really got to get back to Mum, Audrey. She’ll be worried stiff, and it won’t do her any good wondering where we are when she’s feeling ill.”

Wearily, they picked up the bundles, which seemed heavier than before, and began the long trudge back to the station. Audrey’s high heels were hurting her. This time it was Joan who led the way. They were both too despondent to speak. Once they chose a wrong turn and it took some time to get back onto the right route.

They were still making their way down the street that they hoped was the quickest way back to Liverpool Central station when the sirens started. The road they were on began to empty right away. People pushed past them, dragging children by the hand, as they made for the air-raid shelters. An Air Raid Precautions warden in a white helmet hurried up to them.

“Looks like a daylight raid,” he said. “You girls had better get into the shelter with the others as quick as you can.”

“But we
can’t
!” said Audrey, distraught. “My sister and I are expected home. We’ve
got
to get to Central station.”

The warden shook his head firmly.

“No, no. The trains probably won’t even be running right now, anyway. You’ll have to take cover till it’s over.” And he began to shepherd them along with the others.

Audrey dissolved into tears again, and Joan felt desperate. Everything seemed to be conspiring against them today, and being delayed by an air raid at this juncture was more than she could bear. Mum would be frantic with worry. But at that moment there came a shout from behind them.

“Just a moment, officer!”

A private car had pulled onto the kerb and a man jumped out. It was Mr Russell! He greeted Joan and Audrey briefly, and, to his eternal credit, did not waste time on asking them what on earth they were doing in this part of Liverpool. He simply addressed himself directly to the air-raid warden, showing his identity card.

“These two young ladies are neighbours of ours. I’m on my way home with my wife, who just came off an eight-hour shift as a van driver. I think they might be safer if we gave them a lift home with us, out of the danger area. I don’t mind driving through this, and I’ve been told that the Mersey Tunnel is still open.”

The harassed warden hesitated, but only for a moment. He had a great many other people to think about.

“All right, sir – it might be best if you will take full responsibility for getting them home. I’m consigning them to your care. Understand?”

Joan and Audrey, clutching their packages, had jumped in the back of the car almost before he had finished speaking.

It took some time for Mr Russell to manoeuvre a way through the traffic, but with some skilful driving, they were soon on their way. It was only then that Audrey had recovered enough to explain, with tears in her eyes, their whole disastrous errand. “They wouldn’t let me near the dock,” she told them. “Wouldn’t let me see Dai. And he’s going away again soon.”

Mrs Russell listened sympathetically. She was particularly concerned about their mum being ill.

“Please don’t tell her where we met,” said Audrey. “I mean, that we were in Liverpool. She’d only get upset.”

“Of course. I won’t say a word about it if you’d rather I didn’t,” Mrs Russell said. “The most important thing is to get you back as soon as possible so you can look after her. This alert might be a false alarm – they often are. But there may well be another Blitz tonight and we must get you out of here before then. I tell you what, why don’t you let us deliver those parcels to our local Red Cross dressing station? We can run them over in the car. Then you can get straight home.”

“Oh, Mrs Russell – would you really?”

It was very dark by the time the Russells dropped the girls back at their front door. “Send your mother our love. I hope she feels better soon,” Mrs Russell called after them.

Brian was in the hall. “Whatever took you so long?” he said. “Mum’s asleep. I made her a hot drink, but she wouldn’t eat anything. Good job she hasn’t woken up or she would have started doing her nut about where you two had got to.”

Joan and Audrey were both too exhausted to explain their terrible day all over again. Luckily Brian hadn’t seen Mr Russell’s car.

“Is Judy still at the Hemmings’?” asked Audrey, changing the subject.

“Yes,” said Brian. “I rang them earlier and they’ve offered to have her for the night.”

“Thank goodness for that,” said Joan. The thought of getting Judy to bed would have been the last straw. All three of them trailed dejectedly into the back room.

“Is there anything for supper?” Brian asked. “I’m starving!”

CHAPTER 13

I
t took a week for Mum to fully recover from the flu and regain her usual energetic drive.

“I was wondering,” she said to Joan one evening over the washing up, “about that Polish girl at your school – the one you told me about. Ania, wasn’t it? It must be very dull for her, living with that old lady. Why don’t you ask her over here for tea one day?”

Joan’s heart sank. She felt sorry for Ania, but she didn’t really want to make friends with her. Ania had settled down in the class, up to a point, and had even managed to keep her head down enough to keep clear of Angela Travis and her gang most of the time, but it was still almost impossible to get a word out of her outside the classroom. All Joan wanted to do was to let well alone.

“I could make a cake,” said Mum. “I’ve got some icing sugar and margarine saved up and some dried egg powder.
Do
ask her. It would be a kind thing to do, surely, to offer her a bit of hospitality?”

There was no arguing with this. So after school the following Friday afternoon, Joan and Ania walked back to Joan’s house together. Joan had tried to get Doreen to come too, but she had cried off.

Mum had done her very best with the tea. She had even got hold of some chocolate biscuits, an almost unheard-of luxury these days. Ania ate ravenously and thanked Joan’s mum politely many times between mouthfuls. After tea, conversation stalled somewhat.

“Would you like to go for a walk while I clear up?” Mum suggested. “Or would you rather listen to a comedy show on the radio?”

Ania preferred the first suggestion. “Radio I do not like,” she explained. “They talk so fast and I do not understand well the jokes.”

So she and Joan set out. For some time they walked in silence, heading towards the promenade for lack of anywhere better to go. It was chilly, and there were very few people about. The tide was out, and the big bank of clouds that had built up over the faraway Welsh coastline was the same colour as the estuary mud.

“You must get awfully sick of walking around here,” Joan said at last. “I mean, there’s not much to do, is there?”

“I am – what is the word? – accustomed. Yes, accustomed,” answered Ania, simply. “I have stayed in so many places – more that I can count. Miss Mellor, the lady I live with now, does not wish me to be at home with her in the daytime. And…” She paused and then went on, “Neither do I wish to be with her.”

Ania plodded on, looking carefully at her feet. There was a long silence before she began to speak again. This time it was in a very low voice, and it was as though a floodgate had suddenly burst open inside her, and her words poured out very rapidly. “My home I remember very well. Our house, our village.”

“Your village in Poland?”

“Yes. Where we live − my mother, my father and me, and my grandmother too until she die. We work very hard, we grow our food, we have a cow, we have plenty to eat. We live well until the soldiers come.”

“Nazi soldiers?”

“Yes. They come in trucks. They take all the Jewish people, all families living there. Many Jewish people live in our village. The soldiers pull them out of their houses, and line them up in the street. We are Christian Polish people, not Jewish. But my father try to help our Jewish neighbours, the Wartskis. He hide them and their children in our barn at back of house. The soldiers search the barn and they find them.” She hesitated, then said, “So they take them, and my father also. Put him in truck with the others. Then they shoot our dog. Shoot him in the street because he bark and try to follow my father. Then my mother and I run away. We run out of house at back, across the field, into forest. The soldiers come after us, but we hide. Soon they stop looking and go away.”