Lost Angel. Kitty Neale

just that things are changing in your body, that’s all, and this is going to happen every month now.’

      Ellen looked appalled. ‘Every month!’

      ‘I know it sounds awful, but you’ll get used to it. Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up,’ Hilda said, knowing that Ellen’s questions were far from over.

      

      Ellen was still confused by what was happening to her, and felt too queasy to eat her breakfast. She also had little cramps of pain in her tummy, but was distracted now as her mother held out three packages.

      ‘Happy birthday and these are from me,’ she said.

      Ellen tore one open, loving the blue scarf with matching hat and mittens. She was sure her mum must have unravelled her nice jumper to provide the wool and managed a smile. ‘Thanks, they’re lovely.’

      ‘I made them in the evenings when you were in bed.’

      In the next package Ellen found a new vest, but finally, best of all, she tore open the last one to find a large, beautiful book of plant illustrations. Ellen could see that it wasn’t new, but loved it anyway and hugged it to her chest. ‘Oh, Mum.’

      ‘I managed to buy it from one of the villagers.’

      ‘Happy birthday,’ Gertie said as she came in and handed over a roughly wrapped parcel.

      Inside Ellen found tweed trousers that had been cut down, the pains in her tummy forgotten now as she grinned. ‘Thanks, Gertie, but weren’t these your best ones?’

      ‘Yes, but you’ve grown out of your others, and will need warm trousers now that winter is here. Here you are,’ Gertie said, holding out a paper bag. ‘I got these too. I know you love barley sugar.’

      Ellen smiled with delight, but then her mother spoke again as she held out another parcel, saying softly, ‘I thought I’d save this one till last.’

      As soon as Ellen took it, she knew who it was from and ripped it open eagerly. Along with a letter, there was a beautifully carved wooden cat.

      ‘Oh, look,’ she said holding it up. ‘It’s from Dad.’

      ‘I know, darling, and he made it himself.’

      Ellen stroked the cat lovingly and then placed it down to pick up the accompanying letter, her eyes filling with tears as she read it. She missed her dad so much, longed to see him again, and said sadly, ‘He … he doesn’t say he’s coming home. It’s been so long since his last leave and he must be due in port again soon.’

      Socks rubbed against her legs and Ellen bent down to pick him up. He was a big cat now, sleek and lovely, but like Wilfred he’d taken to wandering. She looked at the beautifully carved one, her voice a croak. ‘Dad must remember Socks and that’s why he made me a cat.’

      ‘I’m sure he does, but don’t cry, love. It’s your birthday and it should be a happy time.’

      ‘Come on, Hilda,’ said Gertie brusquely as she rose to her feet. ‘You said you wanted to go to the village. We’ll wrap up warm and, Ellen, you can wear your new trousers, along with the hat, scarf and mittens.’

      Ellen felt uncomfortable as she pulled on her new trousers, hating that it might show. ‘I’m ready,’ she said returning downstairs.

      ‘Right, I’ll harness Ned.’

      As Gertie went outside, Ellen saw her mother looking at her before she said, ‘I’m sick of seeing you in trousers.’

      ‘You wear them all the time too.’

      ‘Sorry, pet, I didn’t mean to snap. It’s just that, like you, I’m missing your dad and it’s always worse when we’ve had letters.’

      ‘It’d be lovely if he was here for Christmas.’

      ‘Yes, it would, but come on, it’s your birthday and it’ll be nice to have a ride into the village.’

      ‘Mum, I feel funny wearing this … this rag thing. Does it show?’

      ‘No, you look fine.’

      It wasn’t long before Gertie called out, saying as they set off, ‘As it’s your birthday, there’ll be no lessons for you today, especially as you did so well with your arithmetic yesterday.’

      ‘Thanks,’ Ellen said, but she really didn’t mind her lessons with Gertie. In fact, she made learning things fun. With Gertie’s way of bringing events to life, even history wasn’t boring, though Ellen knew she still struggled with geography.

      ‘It’s good of you to teach Ellen so much,’ said Hilda, ‘but once we’re back in London she’ll be able to go to a proper school again.’

      ‘That could be years away.’

      ‘Since the beginning of the war and that awful Blitz, there aren’t many bombing raids on London now.’

      ‘It still isn’t safe,’ Gertie warned.

      ‘Mum, you aren’t thinking about going back, are you?’ Ellen interrupted. ‘I don’t want to go. I want to stay here.’

      ‘All right, don’t go on about it. I didn’t say we’re leaving.’

      They were all quiet then, the mood subdued, and Ellen doubled over as her tummy cramped. Gertie turned her head, her smile sympathetic.

      ‘Your mum told me that you’re menstruating. It’s a rotten thing to happen on your birthday.’

      Ellen said nothing as she tried to get to grips with a new word. Menstruating, so that’s what they called it. She hated it – hated that she would have to go through this every month and she still didn’t understand why.

      ‘Nearly there, Hilda,’ said Gertie as at last they neared the village.

      ‘Good, I’m flaming freezing.’

      ‘It’ll get worse before it gets better.’

      When they reached the general store, Ellen was about to climb down, but her mum said, ‘There’s no need for you to come in with me. Stay with Gertie.’

      ‘But …’

      She was ignored, her mum hurrying into the shop.

      ‘What’s going on, Gertie?’ Ellen asked. ‘Don’t ask me, darling.’

      It wasn’t long before her mum was back and clutching a cardboard box that Gertie leaned down to take from her while she climbed onto the cart.

      ‘Mum, what’s that?’ Ellen asked curiously.

      ‘Nothing much, a bit of shopping, that’s all. Right,’ she said, taking the box from Gertie, ‘we can go back to the cottage now.’

      Ellen was puzzled, wondering how her mother had finished her shopping so quickly. ‘Aren’t you going to the butcher’s?’

      ‘No, now enough questions and let’s get home.’

      

      As Gertie eased the horse out into the road a truck tooted from behind. As she pulled over, the sound of singing reached them as the vehicle passed. The tarpaulin was raised at the back, and they saw several women dressed in breeches, with green jerseys visible under open coats, all of them sporting brown felt hats. Some of them waved and Ellen waved back.

      ‘It’s the Land Army girls.’

      ‘The Land Army was first set up during the Great War following disastrous attacks on our merchant shipping,’ Gertie said, using this opportunity to give Ellen a history lesson. ‘We import about sixty percent of our produce, and with so many ships sunk during that war, Britain came close to starvation. The Land Army was formed and the girls carried out vital work in increasing our agricultural output. They were disbanded in 1919, but as we’re now in the same position,