At the moment the houses were cheap enough but no one knew if they would still be there in the morning.
Now she sat on her bed and picked up a book, listening to the wash of voices downstairs. Hari was lonely and wished Kate was here or even Meryl with her endless chatter. Hari’s troubled thoughts dwelt again on her sister, stuck in the country with cows and sheep and creatures she detested.
Meryl was a town girl. She loved the lights, the shops, the little Italian cafes; she loved the beach front with its swings and ice cream stalls. Hari knew in her heart that, however much she didn’t want to believe it, Meryl was unhappy in the country. It was only a matter of time before trouble erupted in the peaceful valleys of West Wales.
Meryl was a bundle of energy, sometimes it was difficult to harness the fire—that spirit—that made Meryl a personality even at a young age. Meryl was one of life’s reporters, seeking, eager for a story, quick to condemn but just as quick to shed tears of pity. But above all, Meryl found trouble wherever she went.
In the morning Hari was proved right. An official-looking letter came for her with the early morning post. Mrs Cooper looked at it suspiciously as she handed it over. ‘I know you’re on your way to get your breakfast, my
Hari took the letter, refraining from telling Mrs Cooper that she wasn’t her sweetheart, she wasn’t her anything except a lodger and she didn’t appreciate Mrs Cooper scrutinizing and anticipating the contents of her mail.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m late. I’ll have something to eat at work.’
She grabbed her coat from the overloaded hallstand in the little hallway that was reeking with the smell of stale ale and hurried outside. A light rain was falling, the air seemed misty, unreal, heavy, yet nothing deterred the German bombers, they would be back whatever the weather. She stopped at the bus stop fingering the letter, knowing instinctively it concerned her sister.
The bus lumbered into sight and with a sigh of relief Hari climbed aboard the metal platform, clinging to the rail as the bus, hardly stopping, chugged on its way towards town. She went upstairs where she would meet Kate at the next stop.
Hari slit open the letter and read it quickly. A smile quirked her lips as she read about the contretemps between the Dixon boy and Meryl, she’d apparently called him an ugly pig and Meryl was nothing if not observant. The smile vanished when she read that the authorities were uncertain what to do with Meryl.
Hari looked up as Kate breathlessly slumped into the seat beside her. ‘Nearly missed the bus so I did!’—Kate was out of breath—‘again’.
Hari looked out of the window in surprise. ‘You should have got on at the last stop,’ she said, ‘what on earth are you doing here in Oxford Street?’
Kate looked defiant. ‘I stayed over with Eddie,’ she said. ‘It’s all right, his sister was there and his mother.’ She paused and a glimmer of a smile touched her lips. ‘Eddie’s lovely, Hari.’
‘Kate! How many is that and when are you going to stop all this nonsense?’
‘It’s all right, this time I’m in love.’ Kate’s face was awash with happiness. ‘The others were airmen, off on a mission, fighting back the Luftwaffe. Since those three nights of Swansea bashing the bombers have laid off a bit but our poor boys are still doin’ their bit, some still dying for it.’
‘Quite a speech, sure you believe it?’ Hari’s voice was dry. She felt a bit like her little sister, blunt and a not a little sarcastic.
‘Oh, read this.’ She hastily handed Kate the letter. Kate gave her a funny look but took it anyway.
‘Aw, Jesus, Mary and Joseph that Meryl of yours is the limit! She can even go to the countryside and find trouble.’
‘The woman cut her hair out of spite, told Meryl she had nits!’ Hari relented and joined in Kate’s laughter. ‘You’re right though, Meryl would find trouble in the ruins of Pompeii.’
‘Where’s Pompeii?’ Kate asked. Hari just shook her head as the bus jerked to a stop.
‘At last. Come on we’ll have to run for the train if we’re to catch it.’ Hari pulled at Kate’s arm. ‘I don’t want to be late, I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.’
‘Aye,’ Kate said mournfully, ‘and I got a few buckets of powder to carry over those rickety boards to put in the shells. Even my bloody knickers are turning yellow with that powder.’
Hari peered at her friend. ‘Your face looks all right.’
‘Only because I plaster it with petroleum jelly before I start. The other girls laugh at me but I know what I’m doing, my face is as pale as the day I was born. Do you know the girls from Bridgend call us Swansea lot “Yellow Daffodils”. Well, I call them lot “Yellow Pee the Bed Dandelions!”’
Hari paused. ‘Joking aside, what do you think of that letter, should I go and fetch Meryl home?’
Kate looked thoughtful. ‘Wouldn’t that spoil your bit of night life?’
‘What night life? I spend most of the time studying signals and things.’
‘That’s your fault you swot.’
‘I know. Anyway, I am worried about Meryl.’
‘Forget Meryl, she can look after herself.’
They parted at the gate and Hari was happy to step inside the warmth of the signals room. As soon as she sat down Colonel Edwards came to her desk and leaned over her. ‘I have some special work for you, clear your desk.’
An hour later Hari was in a small side room with a bank of radio receivers before her, intimidating her. The Colonel looked down at her, an old man but upright still with a strong military bearing.
‘I’ve been watching you these past months and I’m impressed with your sharp intelligence and I’ve decided I need help with the signals.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I think you are capable of learning quickly how to use these.’ He waved his hands at the machines, radios and Morse code transmitters.
Hari was fearful; she wished she had his confidence. The Colonel went on talking.
‘I’ve had very encouraging news this morning—the Germans are being cornered at Stalingrad. If the Russians force the enemy to retreat it will be a turning point for the whole war, but there will be months of fighting ahead yet before anything as good as that happens to us.’ He turned at the door and smiled. ‘Now get on with your work, miss, and for all our sakes reward my faith or I will be the first one in the firing line.’
Seven
The ‘authorities’ were back and were insisting I must go to live with the Dixons again. I cried until I was nearly sick and at last Aunt Jessie took charge, fixing the tigress of the woman official with cold eyes.
‘Mrs Preston, the child will be staying with me.’ She gathered me towards her. Can’t you see she’s hysterical?’
The woman blustered. ‘Well! I’m the one who must decide where Meryl Jones goes.’
‘You’d best decide she goes here with me then, hadn’t you?’—Aunt Jessie’s big frame seemed to fill the room—‘or I might be having a strong word with Jimmy, you know, Jimmy Clark, head of the services department, your boss I believe.’
The next minute the ‘authorities’ were gone leaving a gust of wind as the door banged shut after them.
I still clung to Aunt Jessie, my arms wrapped around her big, reassuring body, my head against her broad bosoms. I liked the sound of the word ‘bosoms’, it was more descriptive than ‘chest’, which sounded like a flat wooden box not a bit cosy and comforting as Aunt Jessie’s bosoms were.
At last I calmed down and began to hiccough; my melodramatics weren’t all put on—I’d been truly afraid I’d be taken to a ‘home’ and everyone knew that ‘homes’ treated you cruelly and wouldn’t give you more if you asked for it.
‘There, sit down, love, I’ll make us all a cup of tea.’ Michael, who’d been silent throughout the shenanigans, ruffled my hair. Usually, I hated that but when Michael did it, he was so, well whatever he was, I didn’t mind him ruffling my hair one bit.
Aunt Jessie sank into her chair and there was a sound like air coming out of a cushion but it was air coming out of Aunt Jessie’s lungs.
