month out of boring routine.
Hilda heaved a sigh. She had stuck it out for Ellen’s sake, and Gertie had seemed to sense how she felt, taking her to the village at least once a week now. Though Hilda enjoyed a bit of gossip with the shopkeeper, and one or two other villagers, she felt she had little in common with them. They were nice folks who seemed content with their lot, with their sleepy, tiny community, but even after all this time in Somerset, Hilda knew she’d never feel the same.
Ellen woke beside her and as soon as the sleepiness left her eyes she said, ‘It’s my birthday.’
‘I know. Happy twelfth birthday, but don’t expect much,’ Hilda warned. This would be Ellen’s second birthday in Somerset, but there wasn’t a lot on offer in the village store now, though thanks to Mrs Brandon she had a little extra something up her sleeve. It was Monday, and with the shop closed yesterday they’d have to go into the village to pick it up today. It was a special treat and sure to bring a smile to her daughter’s face.
‘Mum, I feel a bit funny, sticky,’ Ellen said as she got out of bed. Her voice then rose to a yelp of fear. ‘Mum! Mum, I’m bleeding.’
Oh no, Hilda thought, already? What a thing to happen on her daughter’s birthday. ‘It’s all right. It’s nothing to worry about.’
‘But what’s wrong with me?’
Hilda fought for words as she flung back the blankets. As far as she was concerned, Ellen was far too young to be told the facts of life. Her tone was brusque as she said, ‘It’s just something that happens to all girls when they get to a certain age.’
‘But why?’
‘It’s 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
