Aunt Minnie shook her head. ‘With the best will in the world, Leo, I can’t face it. I want to go home.’ Her wan face was bereft of make-up and Daisy thought that she didn’t look at all like her bubbly, beautiful aunt with golden hair and scarlet lips. ‘If I’m going to die I want to die on my own clean floorboards. Or in our bed with proper pillows and freshly washed linen.’
‘But, Minnie,’ protested Mother, ‘you’ll be taking an awful risk.’
‘I’m beyond caring, Flo,’ replied Aunt Minnie. ‘Bruton Mews is our home yet I’ve begun to feel as though we’ve no home at all. I’ve had enough of the way the Germans want to fight this war. If I’m going to fight, then it will be on my own terms from now on.’
A silence filled the kitchen as Uncle Leo shook his head doubtfully. ’But what if the police won’t allow us back?’
‘Please let’s try,’ begged Aunt Minnie. ‘I need to see our friends again; the couple who live above us and our neighbours next door. And eat pastries from the bakery and buy vegetables from the grocer. Let’s try to find some normality in our lives.’
Daisy saw little pearls of moisture shine in her aunt’s eyes and Will, scuffing his dirty nose with his cuff, said cheerfully, ‘I’m bored too. If we’re not allowed to play in Aunt Betty’s garden, I want to go home.’
Uncle Leo smiled. ‘I must admit, I miss the studio too. But first Betty, we’ll help clean up.’
Aunt Betty shook her head. ’Now the decision is made, Leo, you had better set off. We’ll cope here.’
‘Here, Minnie,’ whispered Mother. ‘Take some of Mrs Webber’s scones with you.’
‘And I’ll make a flask of tea.’ Aunt Betty turned on the tap. A brown, rusty dribble gurgled out. When a spurt of clear water followed, everyone cheered.
‘Thank you for everything,’ said Aunt Minnie tearfully. ‘But you do understand, don’t you?’
Daisy understood perfectly. She knew exactly how Aunt Minnie felt. It didn’t matter if there were floods, fire or famine as Mrs Gulliver often quoted from the Bible. The heartstrings always drew you home.
CHAPTER 67
WHEN THE WARNING SOUNDED, it was decided to follow Uncle Leo’s suggestion. As they reached the bend in the road that led to the public shelter, the smell reached them in advance; a strong disinfectant mixed with the ingrained stench of urine.
At the entrance, a queue of people pushed and shoved while inside benches were lined up in rows, sufficient for more than fifty people - so the warden informed them.
Daisy hated it on sight. Cramped, noisy, stuffy and smelly, the accommodation was almost unbearable. Much to her alarm, the floors were stained yellow. Worse still, the warden allocated them benches close to the makeshift toilets. Mother was horrified to discover the lavatory consisted of half a dozen pails behind a sagging curtain. There was no privacy and no one got a wink of sleep. Babies screamed and children were fretful. A man had a dreadful cough that he proudly took care to distribute with enormous sneezes. Mother issued hankies to cover mouths, but when an elderly lady collapsed, the air became putrid as puffing and sweating, people tried to assist.
It was a good hour before the patient revived, but by then, Daisy suspected this nightly arrangement did not bode well for the future. When morning arrived, it came not a moment too soon.
‘I prefer our damp shelter,’ Mother confessed as they trudged wearily home. ‘Besides, tomorrow is New Year’s Eve. What will it be like shoulder to shoulder with fifty other people, who I am sure will need to celebrate? In such a confined space I doubt that we’ll get a wink of sleep. It’s not as if we had any alcohol of our own and could join in.’
Aunt Betty stood still. ‘I’ve just remembered. Ed kept a bottle of apple cider in the old toilet at the side of the house. The ancient plumbing was broken so Ed stripped it out and used the space for storage. He always meant to restore it to its former glory … ’ She smiled fondly at the memory. ‘Whether or not there’s very much apple cider left in the bottle, or even if it’s still there, goodness only knows. ’
‘All is not lost, then,’ replied Mother with a grin. ‘As desperate as we are, even a thimbleful each would do.’
By the time they reached home, everyone’s mood had lifted. Mother lit the Primus and began to fry eggs while Aunt Betty sliced a loaf.
‘After the war is over I’m going to keep chickens,’ vowed Daisy as she devoured her breakfast. ‘Then we can eat a whole egg every day.’
‘Just as long as you remember to feed your chickens,’ teased Bobby. ‘Eggs don’t appear by magic.’
‘I know that,’ replied Daisy haughtily. ‘Mrs Webber thought I was very good at feeding the chickens.’
‘I miss the farm’s food,’ interrupted Aunt Betty. ‘But being back in London feels good, despite our frightful experience last night.’
Daisy gulped her tea, wondering if she would like the taste of apple cider and whether or not there might be an alternative - such as a bottle of lemonade hidden somewhere - for children.
T hat night, the Luftwaffe’s attack was met with fierce opposition from the British Airforce. The little tin house, as Daisy thought of it, shook and shuddered as the assaults intensified. They were all so sleep-deprived that even the loudest explosions didn’t keep them awake.
Yet again, the air was cloaked in a thick, impenetrable fog the next morning. ‘We’re at the end of yet another year,’ Mother said wearily, cautiously stepping into daylight. ‘Who would believe it?’
Aunt Betty nodded. ‘Thank God, we’re all still safe yet thousands of people have lost loved ones. Look, I think the house has survived too.’
All eyes turned to view the
