“Thank you,” said Edie. She couldn’t wait to fill the book with stories. “Thank you, everybody. These are the most perfect gifts I could ever have wished for … and the lantern too.”
She felt an odd tingly feeling in the bridge of her nose and pricking in her eyelids.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?” said Gus.
“No,” she said quickly.
Uncle Peter chuckled. “You’re just like brother and sister, the way you two bicker,” he said. Then he handed Edie a bulging pink envelope with Fliss’s curly writing across the front. “This came for you this morning too!”
“Ah-ha! I knew there was more than just that big, boring letter for you,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. But as she felt the weight of the envelope, she knew what it really meant. If Fliss was sending something by post, it must mean she wouldn’t be here to deliver it by hand herself. She wasn’t coming. Not today. The prickling in Edie’s eyes was back. She bit her lip. She wasn’t going to let this spoil things – Fliss had asked her to promise to be brave and she would do her very best.
She tore open the envelope and pulled out a card with a picture of the Eiffel Tower and Bon Anniversaire written in fancy gold letters across the top.
Inside was one of Fliss’s white handkerchiefs with a big red kiss in the corner – and, of course, a bar of Fry’s chocolate, which had been squashed a little flat in the post. As Edie unfolded the hankie, the room was filled with the unmistakable scent of Chanel perfume. She held it to her nose and breathed in deeply as she read Fliss’s message:
Wish, wish, wishing I could be with you today.
I am sending this little memento until I can
come myself and bring a really special gift.
I miss you so much
Love Fliss xoxo
There was no stopping the tears this time.
Gus didn’t say anything and Perky didn’t tease her either. They both put their heads down and started to shovel in big mouthfuls of cake as if they didn’t want to make eye contact at all.
“Cheer up, birthday girl!” said Aunt Roberta. Uncle Peter smiled kindly.
Greta threw her arms around Edie’s waist, burying her head in her lap. “Don’t cry,” she begged. “You’ve got chocolate now and a crown!”
“I know,” said Edie. She was half-laughing and crying all at the same time. “I’m not sad.” She wiped her eyes with Fliss’s hankie and smiled. She didn’t want anyone to think she was ungrateful, not when they had gone to so much trouble and she had such lovely gifts. “I’m happy, that’s all.” And it was true. Even though she was miles away from home, and Fliss wasn’t here, and the war had made her birthday a funny sort of thing where they had to “make do and mend” a bit, it really had been a wonderful day.
Chapter Seventeen
The Very Last Dark
Once Edie’s birthday breakfast was cleared away, Aunt Roberta had to hurry off to the hospital and Perky had to dash back to the post office to help his aunty Patsy.
The children at Three Chimneys had chores too. Gus went to water the vegetable garden and Edie and Greta set off to see to the Twiglets. They were just fluffing up some fresh straw for their bedding when Mr Hodges’ butcher’s van rattled into view. The Twiglets had grown fat and round already and, for a terrible moment, Edie thought the butcher might have come a few months early to take them away to their grisly fate.
“Glad to see you up an’ about again, young lady,” he chortled, as he climbed out of the driving seat. “Your aunt Roberta said that beef tea would do the trick.”
“I’m feeling much better, thank you,” said Edie, instinctively placing herself between the butcher and the Twiglets. But she breathed a sigh of relief as he opened the back of the van and she saw that he wasn’t coming to take them away at all. He was delivering the churns full of food scraps from the pig club.
“Colonel Crowther couldn’t run these up himself; he’s had to go to London on business of some sort,” Mr Hodges explained. “He’ll be away for a couple of days. But don’t you worry, I’ll make sure these little piggies don’t go hungry. After all, we want ’em to grow nice and plump in time for… ”
“Yes… Well, if you’ll excuse us,” interrupted Edie briskly, “we must get on.”
“Grr!” Greta was starting to growl like a Jack Russell terrier. She was not too young to know exactly what the butcher’s job was – she had seen meat in his shop window in the village many times. Edie worried she might actually bite poor Mr Hodges on the leg if he mentioned sausages, bacon or, worst of all, a Christmas ham, in the same breath as her beloved Twiglets.
“We need to milk the goat,” she said, grabbing Greta’s hand and dragging her away across the meadow.
“Right ho!” called Mr Hodges, unloading the second churn and climbing back into his van.
“He is my number-one enemy,” snarled Greta.
“Poor Mr Hodges. He is really a very nice man,” said Edie. But Greta insisted on running back to sing soothing songs to the Twiglets the moment he was gone.
Edie was left to finish the rest of their chores alone.
As she came into the kitchen with the pail of goat’s milk, Uncle Peter was opening the big brown envelope that Perky had delivered that morning. She guessed it must be more of his German translation work for the War Office. “Is it another shopping list from the man buying toothpaste in Berlin?” she asked.
“Hmm?” Uncle Peter was busy reading whatever was inside. “No, actually,” he said, looking up. “This is something quite
