Lost Angel. Kitty Neale

walked along with Ellen and the dog running ahead through the woods.

      ‘Blimey, love, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d be on your knees planting vegetables.’

      ‘Me neither, but we had to get out of London.’

      ‘It was good of Gertie to take you in, but aren’t you a bit nervous?’

      ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

      ‘Well, you know. What if she tries it on?’

      ‘Don’t be daft. We’re like sisters and Gertie would never do that.’

      ‘I wouldn’t be so sure. She comes over as a bit bossy to me and sometimes it feels as though she resents me being here.’

      ‘Of course she doesn’t, and Gertie’s always been a bit bossy. We’ve been friends since childhood and, as I said, we became like sisters. You’ve got nothing to worry about and, anyway, Doug, you know me. If she tried anything I’d flatten her – not that she would and I’m sure of that.’

      ‘Yeah, you might be small, but you’re a little spitfire,’ Doug agreed. ‘All right, stay, and at least when I go back I’ll know you’re safe.’

      ‘It’s a shame I can’t say the same. When I didn’t hear from you for so long I was worried sick.’

      ‘I’ve told you. I did write, honest.’

      ‘Maybe the bloomin’ Luftwaffe bombed the sorting office.’

      ‘Yeah, maybe,’ Doug mused.

      ‘Like I said, we lost our place, and … and my mum and dad …’

      Doug turned Hilda round to pull her into his arms, her head resting on his chest. ‘I was shocked to the core when I read your letter. It must have been hell for you and I see you’re wearing your mum’s cross and chain now.’

      ‘I know it sounds daft, but it’s all I’ve got left of her and it sort of brings me a bit of comfort. It … it was an awful time, Doug, and to top it all Ellen’s nerves went.’

      ‘She seems all right now, though it’s a shame you’re so far from the village that she hasn’t got any friends to play with.’

      ‘I know, but she’s grown to love it here, the peace, the quiet, the animals and the woods, yet I can’t stand it.’

      ‘It won’t be for ever and, now I know I haven’t got anything to worry about with Gertie, you’re to stay here until the war’s over,’ Doug ordered, but then as Hilda reared back he knew he’d put his foot in it.

      Her shoulders stiff, neck stretched to look up at him and eyes flashing, she snapped, ‘If I want to go back to London I will, and neither you, nor the bloody Germans, are going to stop me.’

      ‘All right, calm down,’ Doug placated. Just a moment ago Hilda had seemed so soft and vulnerable, but now she was back on form. His wife might be tiny, but he had long since learned that he couldn’t win an argument. If you got Hilda’s back up, woe betide you, and he should have known better than to issue an order. He tried a different approach. ‘What about Ellen? Surely you don’t want to put her at risk again?’

      ‘Of course I don’t. Oh, take no notice of me, Doug,’ she said, her features softening as their daughter ran up to them. ‘It’s just that I’m fed up, that’s all.’

      Doug couldn’t get over the change in Ellen. She was so much taller, her nose sprinkled with freckles and her complexion glowing with health. Life in the country suited her and, in fact, Doug had found he liked it, too, enjoyed working the land – the digging, the planting – and when the war was over he’d love to live out of London. Of course, Hilda would take some persuading, but surely he’d be able to talk her round?

      ‘Come on, Mum, come on, Dad,’ Ellen urged.

      ‘Yeah, all right, but slow down,’ Hilda called as Ellen dashed off again, Bertie at her heels, yapping with excitement.

      ‘It’s a shame we’ve only managed the one child,’ Doug mused.

      ‘I know, but after having so much trouble falling pregnant, Ellen still seems like a miracle. My mum was the same, and her sister, all of us only managing one child.’

      ‘You never know, you might fall again one day.’

      ‘Don’t bank on it, Doug.’

      ‘I’m not,’ he said, with a cheeky smile and a wink as he added, ‘though if you ask me nicely, I’ll give it another go tonight.’

      

      Ellen had become used to playing alone. She loved exploring, finding things, and had turned the woods into her own magic kingdom. This time, instead of roaming alone, it felt strange to be out with her parents and so far, amongst other things, they had seen a squirrel that was thankfully in a tree and safe from Bertie. Ellen led her dad to one of her favourite places, a pretty glade where if she sat quietly rabbits would emerge from their burrows, noses sniffing, but there was no sign of them today.

      ‘Come on, Ellen, it’s time to go back to the cottage.’

      ‘Oh, Dad, do we have to?’ Ellen appealed. ‘There are so many things I want to show you.’

      ‘I’m afraid so, but we’ll come here again another day.’

      Ellen nodded, looking forward to that, but sadly aware that her dad would be leaving again soon. She still found that if she kept quiet, her parents would sometimes forget she was there and it was then that she found things out – like at breakfast, when they had been talking about U-boats. Ellen was still worried about the danger she’d heard her dad was in and asked now, ‘Dad, what’s a submarine?’

      ‘Well, I suppose the easiest way to describe one is to say that it’s a kind of boat, but one that submerges and spends most of the time underwater.’

      ‘Have you been on one?’

      ‘No, and I don’t want to.’

      ‘Why did Mum say you’re in danger?’

      A look passed between her parents and Ellen saw the small shake of her mum’s head before her dad replied, ‘You know what a worryguts your mum is, but there’s no need. I’m not in danger, pumpkin, and she’s worried about nothing.’

      Ellen wasn’t convinced, but her dad refused to talk about the war again and soon they were back at the cottage. Once again Ellen saw a strange look pass between Gertie and her mother, a sort of half-nod from Gertie that puzzled her.

      ‘Why did you have to go to the village?’ Ellen asked, sure that the trip held the answer.

      ‘I went to get a few things in. Now let’s grab some lunch and then it’s back to work.’

      ‘Slave driver,’ Hilda groaned.

      While her mother began to make sandwiches, Ellen wandered outside with Bertie, the dog running to his bowl to slurp water. There was something going on, Ellen was sure of it, but if she kept really quiet during lunch they might let something slip. Why did grown ups have to be so secretive? She wasn’t a baby now, she was nearly ten and a half years old, but still treated like a little kid. The village – Gertie hated going to the village, so why had she gone that morning? It was only when Ellen thought about their last trip that the penny dropped. Gertie had told her about the pig, but then her dad had turned up and everything else had been forgotten in the excitement.

      With her heart thudding, Ellen ran to the sty. There was only one pig now, her belly fat with babies, and, sobbing, Ellen ran back to the cottage.

      ‘Pinkie’s gone! You took her to be killed, didn’t you?’

      ‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

      ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

      It was her mum who answered. ‘Because we knew you’d be upset.’