Once again Daisy clapped her hands. ‘That’s brilliant, Aunt Betty!’
‘But what if they were in, say Wales?’ asked Mother. ‘Or Scotland even?’
‘Our code for Wales is Tommy and Scotland is Susan. Irene stands for Ireland.’
Daisy slipped her arms around her aunt’s neck. ‘You’re so clever, Aunt Betty.’
‘Not at all, Daisy. It was your uncle who thought this trick up. Ed is really, well … ‘ Her aunt’s brown eyes filled with pride. ‘He’s an extraordinary man.’
This was music to Daisy’s ears. For if Aunt Betty spoke so highly of Uncle Ed, then she wouldn’t be thinking of Mr Calder.
CHAPTER 46
FOR DAISY, time passed in an almost identical pattern of scraping up debris and repeatedly cleaning surfaces, the result of nightly bombing attacks. She found herself something of a specialist in trying to defeat the muck that seeped through every crack in the roof. The second someone closed a door or walked upstairs, a shower of fine black particles fell to the floor.
Every two weeks the luxury of a bath was poured. The tub water was reused and hair was shampooed with a de-louser, since the nights spent in the shelter had proven a haven for tiny insects and fleas.
It was left to Mother to scout for provisions and make the most of their rations. Daisy couldn’t abide the long, boring queues and having to wait for the best or worst that their coupons could provide. Instead, she’d opted for the cleaning and her most dislikable duty, the laundering of their clothes. With no gas supplied to the house, the copper was useless and items had to be hand-washed in the kitchen sink and urged through the groaning mangle.
As for Bobby, after helping Mr Cook to fit a stout panel of weatherboard over Daisy’s bedroom window, he became, more or less, Mr Cook’s apprentice. A day didn’t pass without Bobby attending some kind of catastrophe in the area. ‘I carry Mr Cook’s tools and help him to mend stuff. Or sometimes I run errands for him and the other men,’ he boasted, much to Mother’s concern.
‘You must come home before the siren alert,’ Mother warned him constantly. ‘I should worry about you terribly if you were absent again all night.’
‘Mr Cook always tells me to knock off at half past three.’
Daisy giggled as she helped fill the basket for their overnight stay in the shelter. ‘What’s knock off?’
‘Time to stop,’ said Bobby. ‘Like you are my skin and blister. Skin and blister rhymes with sister, see?’ Daisy grinned as Bobby continued. ‘Mother is making the Rosy Lee and I’m carrying the blankets for Uncle Ned so we don’t get taters.’
Daisy burst out laughing. But Mother stopped pouring the tea into the flask. ‘Bobby, that’s enough now. Whatever would your father think?’
Bobby’s cheeks flared red. ‘He’s not here, so I don’t know.’
Mother looked startled. ‘Bobby, you know your father had no choice in going away.’
‘But why?’ cried Bobby furiously. ‘I’d rather have him to talk to than Mr Cook. But as I don’t, then Mr Cook will have to do.’ He sped from the kitchen and into the garden.
Mother sighed and shook her head. ‘This war is such a terrible thing for families. And the worst of it is, there’s an element of truth in what he says. Your father could have refused the government, but he felt it was his duty to cooperate.’
’Pops might get leave like Matt does,’ said Daisy hopefully.
‘Perhaps,’ Mother agreed vaguely.
Daisy began packing the basket again but the almost-quarrel with Bobby had left Mother downcast as they prepared for yet another night in the shelter.
I t was on a chilly day in October when two letters arrived.
‘This is your father’s handwriting,’ said Mother excitedly as they sat at the kitchen table and she opened the first.
“My dears, all is well here and the days pass rapidly. So quickly in fact, that I am guilty of neglecting to write to you. However, I’ve very little news, as is to be expected, that I can announce. But I shall be very happy to receive a letter from you. Here is the address.” Mother sighed. ‘It’s just a war office department.’
‘Does he say anything about me?’ asked Bobby.
‘Only that he loves and misses us all.’
‘Is there any code?’ Daisy asked.
‘None that I can see,’ replied Mother.
‘When is he coming home?’
‘He doesn’t say.’ With a disappointed expression, Mother passed the letter to Bobby as she opened the second envelope.
‘It’s from Aunt Pat,’ Mother said as she studied the single sheet. ‘Apparently several bombs fell near the village, close enough to shatter some of the shop windows. No one was hurt but Aunt Pat sounds rather worried.’ Mother put down the letter. ‘I must find a working telephone box and speak to your aunt. I shall be back soon.’
Daisy watched her mother slip on a headscarf, then hurry out again.
‘Pops’s letter wasn’t very exciting,’ said Daisy as she followed Bobby to the larder. ‘Do you think there’s a code in it, somewhere?’
‘Don’t know,’ Bobby mumbled over his shoulder. ‘Didn’t sound like it.’
‘Are you going to help Mr Cook today?’ Daisy watched her brother set out the bread and carving knife and the last of the apple preserve.
‘No,’ Bobby replied with a shrug. ‘I’m going to see Grace.’
Daisy had almost forgotten the pretty girl from Cawdor School. But Bobby said no more and continued to eat ravenously.
Daisy considered the unappetising looking loaf. She was sure she couldn’t eat any more of the unpalatable substance that lodged in her throat. As for the mugs of dishwater tea …
‘Can I come with you?’ she asked.
‘You’d only interrupt all the time.’
‘I wouldn’t.
