Soon there were hugs and handshakes and plenty of tears all round. The ring was examined and shown off in the light and scrutinized until Amelia looked about to faint with joy.
Daisy surreptitiously noted that Amelia never took her eyes from Matt; little wet beads glittering on her eyelashes and sparkled against the sheen of her coppery brown hair. Trailed wisps, dampened by tears, tumbled over her forehead.
A few minutes later the wireless was turned up. “I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street,” said Prime Minster Chamberlain. “The British ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany.”
Daisy felt a lump swell inside her chest. There was something extraordinary about this moment. An engagement to be married, the overwhelming pride she felt for her brother and the terrifying and momentous declaration of war.
M iss Ayling’s teapot was refilled twice after the Prime Minister’s speech. Daisy was given the job of emptying the dregs in the pig bin outside, where the momentary waft of decaying food returned her with some force to hers and Bobby’s predicament. Not only had Mr Chamberlain joined Miss Bailey and the board of school governors in the certainty of war, but it was clear there would be no escape from evacuation. She and Bobby were to be carted off to Wattcombe, hidden in the depths of a countryside that didn’t have goose-necked cranes and busy docks and factories and people like Mrs Hayes to whom you could turn for every bit of vital information.
On Daisy’s last visit to the factory in summer, Mrs Hayes had remembered it was her birthday and given her a pretty card. When Daisy had related the saga of Sammy and the Blackshirts, Mrs Hayes had looked ferocious. ‘They’re rotters through and through,’ she’d cried. ‘Your poor little friend. Him and his dad must’ve been frightened out of their wits for no reason at all.’
‘Bobby said the reason was because Mr Berger was German,’ confided Daisy as she helped with the trolley. ‘Mother said it was because Sammy’s mother was a Jew. What does that mean, Mrs Hayes?’
‘It means it don’t matter what a person’s religion is, or what colour they are, or if they’ve got two left feet or none at all, a decent person don’t go behaving like them Blackshirts did.’ Mrs Hayes had puffed out her chest and adjusted her turban with some force. ‘Gawd love that poor little Sammy. And to end up with TB, well, it don’t sit right with me, it don’t.’
‘He’ll get well, won’t he? Like cousin Irene?’ Mrs Hayes had once told Daisy of the saga of her distant cousin Irene who’d beaten the dreaded TB.
‘Please God he will,’ Mrs Hayes had nodded. ‘Them doctors will see him right. They know their onions.’
‘Is it nice in a sanitarium?’
‘Not bad,’ Mrs Hayes had replied. ‘Not good either. In between I’d say. But they get you better like they did our Irene.’
‘Was Irene pretty?’
‘Told you once, it don’t all depend on looks. Our Irene looked forty when she was four and forty when she was sixty.’ The trolley had come to a shuddering halt. ‘Go up to see your dad, now, but give them offices a miss.’
Softened words that meant a great deal, Daisy had decided. For if she was to avoid the offices, then there could only be one reason for doing so. Mrs Hayes must know as much - possibly even more - than she did about Aunt Betty and Mr Calder.
Just as Mother and Aunt Minnie came into the kitchen there was a terrible shriek. ‘The siren,’ cried Mother. ‘We must be under attack!’
‘Already?’ gasped Aunt Minnie. ‘Goodness, where’s Will?’
Daisy barely recalled what happened next. Everyone began to charge here and there, with Uncle Leo bearing down on Will and Pops, Matt and Amelia, together with Uncle Ed and Aunt Betty rushing like the wind through the hall and into the kitchen.
‘To the shelter!’ Pops yelled at the top of his voice. ‘Everyone to the shelter!’
It was first time Daisy had been inside the little metal house, but it would not be the last by a long shot.
CHAPTER 21
‘THERE’S NO LIGHT!’
‘There’s hardly any room!’
‘Just squeeze up. The benches aren’t finished yet.’
‘Where are the candles, Nicky?’
‘Here! Has anyone a match?’
Suddenly there were little halos of light flickering in the darkness.
‘Stay still, people. Let’s count heads. Make sure we’re all here.’
‘One, two, three … ‘
Daisy found herself kneeling on the cold, scratchy tarpaulin Pops had laid over the earth. It was not at all cosy as she had imagined the little house might be. And yet it was also thrilling. She could barely breathe for the excitement of it all.
‘The siren’s stopped, thank God!’
‘What a dreadful noise!’
‘Good thing we weren’t driving home,’ said Uncle Ed. ‘Anyone hurt in that mad scramble?’
Daisy saw all heads shake. To Daisy’s delight Aunt Betty was squeezed close to Uncle Ed with his arm firmly around her shoulders.
The candles were passed around. One went to Aunt Minnie, the other to Aunt Betty and one to Mother. Startled faces came slowly into view.
‘Do we have any gloves?’ asked Uncle Leo, from behind Will’s bobbing head. ‘Some bod in Whitehall said to put gloves in our kit, should poisonous gas be dropped.’
‘Hardly likely,’ said Pops at once. ‘We all have our gas-masks with us, don’t we? Everybody’s been issued with one along with our identity cards.’
‘Absolutely. We're supposed to take them everywhere we go.’
‘Didn’t think we need them so soon,’ confessed Aunt Minnie. ‘Ours are somewhere in the car boot I
