The wind was whistling through the gaping hole in the wall where the window had once been, spreading dust and soot everywhere. Daisy thought it looked as though her room had been ransacked and the burglar had thrown grey paint after him, staining her lovely bedspread and clean white pillows.
‘Poor Daisy,’ said Mother with a sniff and gently patted her shoulder. ‘There’s nothing we can do at the moment. But tomorrow we’ll move your things to the spare room. For now, collect what you need for the shelter.’
Daisy could only stand and stare. The impact of the blown-out window frame had carved a ragged edge to the bricks where one of the blackout curtains had moulded itself into the mortar. Her chest of drawers had toppled on its side spilling all her pretty trinkets across the grimy floor. Aunt Betty’s comb and brush set was covered in the same sooty grey dust.
Daisy’s blue eyes were tear-filled as Bobby came and stood by her. ‘It probably looks worse than it is,’ he dismissed.
‘You wouldn’t say that if it was your room.’
‘I’ll ask Mr Cook to fix it.’
Daisy frowned. ‘Who’s Mr Cook?’
‘The man who mended the shelter door. He told me where he lives if we need help.’
Daisy bent down and tried to rub away the dirt from the bluebirds and blossoms on the handle of her brush. ‘Nothing will clean this. The bristles are full of soot. I’ll never be able to use it again.’
‘Stop moaning,’ said Bobby impatiently. ‘Now, come on. You lift one end of the chest and I’ll lift the other.’
Surprisingly, she found her clothes inside her drawers were unmarked. At least she had clean knickers to wear.
‘T hat’s everything,’ said Mother later, brushing her untidy hair from her eyes as they stood in the shelter. ‘It doesn’t look so bad now, even quite homely.’
Daisy doubtfully studied their handiwork. What worried her most was the small cupboard that she and Bobby had ferried out from the larder. The wire mesh over its front was sufficient to keep out insects, but would it keep out the dust? After all, the food stored inside it was more important than anything else. At that very moment her tummy grumbled.
Mother smiled. ‘I think we deserve a good meal. I’ve prepared a small snack indoors, corned beef and a little cheese, with buttered bread. Not very appetising, but sustaining.’
‘But have we enough food in the shelter?’ Daisy anxiously considered the cupboard again. She remembered all too well how hungry and thirsty she’d been last night.
‘We have sandwiches, a cold pie, biscuits, a few groceries, a flask of tea and water,’ listed Mother. ‘I’ve stowed half a dozen candles and a box of matches in a tin along with a few pieces of china and cutlery - and, oh yes, the stone hot water bottle and kettle are on the table beside the armchair.’ She nodded to the bunks now resplendent with two mattresses carried down from their beds and a variety of linen. ‘I think we’ll have enough blankets and pillows but … ‘ she hesitated, ‘what is it that I’ve forgotten?’
‘A battery for the torch,‘ said Bobby.
‘Well remembered, dear. I’ll see to that at once. Daisy, are you wearing your thickest jumper under that coat?’
‘Yes, but I’m too hot.’
‘You won’t be tonight. Remember how cold it was? We need our warmest clothes, underwear, socks and boots. And, oh yes, mustn’t forget gas masks.’
‘I’ve hung them on the back wall pegs,’ said Bobby efficiently. ‘Pops left tin hats too but they look awfully big for us.’
‘I didn’t even notice them,’ said Mother, shaking her head. ‘It was all so dark and sudden.‘ Her voice broke a little. ‘Tonight we’ll be prepared. As soon as we hear the siren … ’ She paused and taking Daisy’s hand and Bobby’s, drew them close. ‘My better judgement tells me you should be in Wattcombe with Grandma and Aunt Pat. It really is the sensible thing to do.’
‘Would you come with us?’ asked Bobby.
Mother sighed and shook her head. ‘Not immediately.’
‘When, then?’ said Daisy.
‘My dears, I really don’t know. Someone has to stay here and take care of the house. It’s our home and I refuse to be threatened out of it.’
‘Then we want to stay too,’ said Bobby staunchly. ‘Don’t we Daisy?’
Daisy nodded, for however unsavoury the ugly old tin house was and however terrifying the nightly ordeal of the Luftwaffe attacks, they didn’t want to leave Mother.
CHAPTER 44
THAT NIGHT the Luftwaffe swept over the city with renewed vigour, releasing even more bombs than the night before. All night long the pounding continued until the early hours of the morning, when at last, dawn broke.
With eyes unaccustomed to daylight, Daisy crawled from her bunk and let herself into the garden. She stood, peering up at the hazy red blush in the morning sky.
‘London is burning,’ Mother said, joining her. ‘What a dreadful sight.’
Bobby followed. ‘The guttering’s come away from the eaves of our house,’ he said, squinting through tired eyes. ‘And the drainpipe’s broken.’
‘The least of our troubles,’ sighed Mother. ‘When you think of what others have suffered.’
‘I’m starving,’ said Daisy as they trudged over the dusty brown grass. ‘And it will be lovely to have a bath.’
‘We have to save water,’ Bobby reminded her as they approached the kitchen door. ‘The sewers and pipes are what the Luftwaffe are after.’
‘How do you know?’ Daisy suspiciously studied her brother whose pale face was streaked with dirt and his hair stood on end.
‘All the news is on the wireless,’ he retorted. ‘But you never bother to listen.’
‘Why should I?’ she huffed. ‘I’d only hear
