Lost Angel. Kitty Neale

you’re a Londoner. You’d go mad living in the sticks.’

      ‘At one time I might have, but now I’m not so sure. The thought of being away from these bombing raids, of a bit of peace and quiet, is more than tempting.’

      ‘When this war started everyone said it’d be over in five minutes, but they were wrong. Families have been torn apart, mine included. Jack’s away fighting, my kids are miles from me and … and now you’re going too.’

      Hilda was shocked to see tears in Mabel’s eyes. She wasn’t usually an emotional woman; more the take what life throws at you and get on with it type.

      ‘I’m only thinking about it, Mabel. I haven’t made my mind up yet.’

      The air raid siren suddenly wailed and Mabel jumped to her feet. ‘Oh, sod it, not again.’

      They hurried to the shelter, Hilda’s forehead creased with worry. ‘I hope Ellen’s all right. I wish I’d kept her at home now.’

      ‘She had to go back to school sometime, and, if you ask me, it’ll do her good to play with her friends again. Stop worrying. She’ll be fine.’

      They sat down, Hilda’s heart racing with fear and her hand clutching the crucifix. Whenever she was frightened or deep in thought it was something she seemed to do automatically now and impatiently she let it go. It couldn’t help her, just as it hadn’t helped her mother, and she was just being silly.

      Tense, they listened for the sound of bombers, but heard nothing and less than an hour later looked at each other with relief when the all-clear sounded. Back in the house Mabel immediately put the kettle on the gas.

      ‘I don’t know about you, mate, but false alarm or not, I could murder a cup of tea.’

      ‘I hate it being rationed. How are we doing?’

      ‘We’ve got enough and, anyway, I use the same tea leaves twice to stretch them out.’

      ‘Yes, I know. Sometimes I can see through the tea to the bottom of my cup.’

      ‘You cheeky mare. Still, it’s nice to hear you sounding a bit lighthearted again.’

      ‘I don’t feel lighthearted, Mabel. When I wake up in the morning the first thing I think about is my parents, and they seem to remain constantly on my mind.’

      ‘It’s early days yet, but it’ll get easier, you’ll see.’

      They sat drinking their tea, Hilda trying to keep up with Mabel’s chatter while her mind kept drifting elsewhere – to Gertie and Somerset.

      

      It was an hour later when the door opened and Ellen walked in.

      ‘Hello, pet. Did you have a nice day at school?’

      ‘It … it was all right,’ Ellen said, the stammer she’d developed evident. ‘I … I was frightened when th … the siren went off an … and we all had to go down to the basement again.’

      ‘It was a false alarm and nothing to worry about.’

      ‘M … Mr Green said th … the school will be closing. He gave us letters to … to bring home.’

      Hilda took it, but after what Ellen had just said, she wasn’t surprised by the contents. It was a general letter, addressed to all the parents, saying that the school would be closing at the end of the month. As others had before him, the headmaster also urged that any children still in London should be evacuated. Hilda looked at Mabel, dreaded telling her, but the letter had sealed her decision.

      ‘I’ve got to get Ellen away from here, Mabel. If Gertie had got my last letter I’m sure she’d have replied by now. I’m going to write to her again.’

      ‘N … no, Mum. I don’t want to go away. I … I want to stay with you.’

      ‘Don’t fret, love. This time I’m going to ask Gertie if we can both stay with her.’ Smiling sadly at her friend, Hilda added, ‘I’m sorry, Mabel.’

      ‘It’s all right, I understand, but I’m gonna miss you,’ she said, a choke in her voice.

      ‘I’ll miss you too, and doing this blows any chance I’ve got of getting re-housed. I’m beginning to feel like a gypsy with no fixed abode, travelling from one place to another. I just hope it won’t be for long, that it’ll be over soon and we can come back to where we belong.’

      ‘Yes, mate, you’ll be back,’ Mabel said with a show of bravery now. ‘Once a Londoner, always a Londoner.’

      Hilda knew she was putting on a brave front and smiled gratefully. If Mabel broke down she would too, but more tears were the last thing Ellen needed to see. Yes, Gertie would take them in, she was sure of it, and a little time in the country was just what Ellen needed.

      It would be hard to leave her friends, especially Mabel, but in Somerset they’d be safe, Gertie’s home providing a haven until soon, she was sure, this dreadful war would be over.

       Chapter Three

      Ellen was shaken awake when the train pulled into Crewkerne station and climbed bleary-eyed out of the carriage. It was three in the afternoon as she and her mother stood on the platform, a bitter cold wind cutting through their clothes. Only moments later a tall, big-boned woman appeared and Ellen was amazed to see that she was wearing scruffy, brown, corduroy trousers that were tucked into wellington boots, along with a dirty navy duffel coat. Not only that, she was wearing a brown flat cap with her dark blonde hair tucked up beneath it.

      ‘Hilda,’ the woman cried, her dark brown eyes warm as she strode up to them and her strong features softened by a wide smile.

      ‘Hello, Gertie,’ smiled Hilda.

      ‘You look exhausted. Come on, let’s get you home,’ Gertrude Forbes said as she grabbed both suitcases. ‘My goodness, is that Ellen? I can’t believe it.’

      ‘Of course it’s Ellen. It was her birthday last month and she’s ten now.’

      ‘She’s so pretty – but has it been that long since I’ve seen you?’

      ‘Yes, nearly seven years and you’ve been in Somerset for six of them.’

      ‘Where does the time go? Come on, follow me,’ said Gertie, striding ahead of them now.

      ‘Blimey, is that yours?’ Hilda asked when she saw a small horse and cart.

      ‘Yes. Ned’s the only transport I have and I’d be lost without him.’

      Hilda eyed the horse warily, but Gertie urged them to climb onto a bench-like seat at the front of the flat cart. She then stowed their cases in the back before heaving herself up beside them.

      ‘Right, we’re off,’ she said, taking the reins, and with a gentle click of her tongue, the horse moved forward.

      Ellen had never been on a horse and cart before and found it strange: the gentle sway, the clip, clop of hooves as they rode along a narrow street. Soon they were passing through a small town and she listened as her mother spoke with Gertie.

      ‘Thanks for this. Thanks for taking us in.’

      ‘It’s nothing and I’m sorry it took so long to answer your letters. I don’t get post delivered, and rarely go to the village. It was quite a surprise to find two waiting for me, but awful to hear about your parents. I should have kept in touch with your mother, but when it all came out I wasn’t sure she’d want anything to do with me.’

      ‘She was shocked, but you know my mum, she never had a bad word to say about anyone. Oh, Gertie, I still can’t believe she’s gone, that they’re both gone.’

      ‘I’m so sorry, Hilda, so very sorry.’