all – now they’re like lace!’ She lifted a torn and bloodied foot for inspection. ‘Look at the state of me!’
‘You’ll live …’ Dawn returned shortly, aware of mingling shouts up ahead. Turning the corner she was relieved to see that people were milling about a few yards away. Mounds of debris had fallen to block the road and flames were dancing from a gaping hole that once had been a window of a house. She and Rosie merged into the crowd. There were cries from people desperate for help for an injured companion, while others could be seen wandering dazedly to and fro.
Despite the chaotic scene Dawn was still conscious of pursuit, and glanced over her shoulder to see if there was any sign of the men. They had followed! And they hadn’t been far behind even if they had taken a different route, no doubt in the hope of intercepting them.
Roof and Michael were standing at the mouth of a junction, watching them. Roof slowly raised a finger and jabbed it in their direction. Dawn swung her face away, understanding the threat in the looter’s gesture. But she knew they’d not hound them further with so many witnesses about.
‘Mum says she’s gone up to bed with a headache and to tell you to get me supper ready.’
Dawn had barely put a foot over the threshold when she received that greeting from her brother. Weary she might be, following her run-in with the crooks, but she was relieved to have arrived back and found that her family was safe. A house on the corner of their street had lost its side, showing how close to home the bombardment had been. Curbing her exasperation with her surly brother she managed to give him a smile.
‘You’re old enough to get your own supper ready, y’know.’ Dawn hung her coat over the back of a chair then rolled up her sleeves and went to the pantry to see what it contained. She didn’t hold out much hope of an appetising selection: if her mother were under the influence again the grocery shopping would have borne the brunt of the cost of her ‘medicine’.
‘Don’t want no tea anyhow,’ George muttered. ‘Lost me appetite cramped up in that Anderson shelter for hours. ’Nuf to make you want to puke, it is.’
‘Stop whining and thank your lucky stars you got out of it in one piece. I’ve only had a shop doorway for protection on my way home from work.’
Some neighbours had helped dig out their shelter and fractured a sewage pipe while doing so. Now the garden, and especially the Anderson, stank to high heaven because the repair hadn’t been done well.
‘Ain’t eating anything so you’re wasting yer time poking around in that cupboard.’ George slumped into a chair.
‘That’ll be the day, you turn down a plate of grub.’ Dawn didn’t want to fall out with her brother. He could be selfish and lazy when it came to lending a hand about the house but then a lot of teenage boys were like that.
It seemed daft to get tetchy over something trivial when she lived with a constant fear of rounding the corner of their street to find her home blown to smithereens. ‘There’s half a loaf and some plum jam left … d’you want a jam sandwich?’ Dawn moved a packet of custard powder and pounced. ‘Or …’ She turned with a large potato rotating in her fingers. ‘D’you fancy waiting while this bakes in the oven? There’s no cheese but you could put a bit of marge in it …’
‘Ain’t waiting that long!’ George whined. ‘I’m hungry now.’
‘Thought you said you didn’t want anything,’ Dawn reminded him wryly.
With a scowl, George slunk out of the kitchen, leaving his sister to spread jam on chunks of bread.
A few minutes later Dawn gave George his tea plate. She left him in the parlour with it balanced on his lap, listening to the wireless and tucking into his jam sandwich, and went upstairs to her mother’s room.
‘Want a cup of tea, Mum?’ Dawn whispered into the gloom. The stale air hit her, making her wrinkle her nose. But she didn’t retreat; she approached the bed and looked down at her mother’s drawn profile. ‘It’s − not yet ten o’clock, why don’t you come downstairs and I’ll make you a snack? We can listen to the news on the wireless.’
‘No appetite, dear,’ Eliza mumbled. ‘Don’t want to listen to the wireless. Just bad news all the time, ain’t it.’
‘There’s a big old moon out tonight, have you seen it? Shall I open the curtains a bit?’
‘No … the light makes my headache worse …’
‘The gin gives you a headache, Mum,’ Dawn snapped. The fug in the room was overpowering her, making her tetchy. Suddenly she reached beneath her mother’s pillow, feeling for glass. With a mutter she pulled out the half-empty bottle and tossed it onto the coverlet.
Eliza burrowed further into the bed. ‘It’s alright for you. You ain’t been stuck out in that shelter with the bombs banging down all around,’ she moaned. ‘Bitter cold it was; enough to give a body pneumonia let alone a migraine. Anyhow … what have you been up to today?’
‘I did a couple of matinees and finished early. I told you about it yesterday.’ Dawn knew it was pointless trying to reason with Eliza, so gave up. ‘Have the Gladwins got their national assistance sorted out?’
A family in the next street had been made homeless last week following a direct hit on their house. Thankfully they’d all been in a shelter so only the property had been lost.
‘Those Gladwin kids should have been evacuated long ago, in my opinion.’
‘George should have been evacuated as well.’ Dawn’s blunt comment drew a snort from her mother.
‘George is old enough to stay where he is. He’s nearly thirteen and getting a job soon.’
‘Yeah … but he wasn’t when war broke out, was he, Mum?’ Dawn reminded dryly.
‘I will have a cup of tea, dear.’ Eliza meekly changed the subject as she invariably did when stuck for an answer. She liked having George’s company and was determined to keep it.
On the point of leaving the room, Dawn returned to her mother’s bedside. By the time she got back with a cup of tea Eliza would have emptied the bottle if she left it where it was.
‘I’ll put this in the kitchen cupboard.’ Dawn ignored Eliza’s peevish mumble and went downstairs feeling tempted to empty what remained of the booze down the sink. But she didn’t because it would make matters worse. Her mother would only buy more with their housekeeping money.
‘Can’t get a bit of extra sugar for love nor money up at Royce’s.’ Eliza’s complaint about the corner shop preceded her shuffling into the kitchen.
Dawn had hoped that her mother might drag herself out of bed and come downstairs for her tea. Although Eliza’s wispy hair looked matted and in need of a brush the simple act of putting on her dressing gown and slippers seemed to have bucked the woman up. Dawn set a steaming brew in front of her mother as she settled down at the kitchen table. Planting her elbows on its wooden top Eliza sunk her chin into her dry palms.
‘Don’t like me tea without two sugars in it. It looks
