where they were evacuated because of the threat of invasion.’
Mary immediately turned on her. ‘Don’t talk rot. There won’t be one.’
Alice looked at her levelly. ‘We don’t know that, Mary. There might well be. We just can’t say. The fact is that some parents have told the schools they’re taking their children away again, and it’s making the teachers’ lives very difficult as they don’t know what to plan for the new September term, invasion or no invasion.’ One of Alice’s friends was a teacher at a nearby primary school, and so she was up to date on their day-to-day problems.
Mary wasn’t prepared to argue with Alice, who – it was generally acknowledged – was better informed than anyone else when it came to current affairs, as she spent much of her spare time reading the newspapers or glued to the news on the wireless. She decided to change the subject instead.
‘What did Peggy have to say?’ she asked, turning to Edith.
Edith had quite forgotten about the envelope in the hurry to sort out her potentially infected clothing, find a fresh set for tomorrow’s visit, and to restock her Gladstone bag for the morning. ‘I don’t know. I haven’t had a moment to look.’
‘Well, how about now?’ demanded Mary impatiently. In the absence of any letters for herself, Edith receiving one was the next best thing.
Edith obligingly reached into her pocket and drew it out, jagging it open with her index finger. ‘All right … she says it’s a shame we haven’t seen each other for a while, and she knows what it feels like …’ Edith took a quick gulp and went on, ‘so why don’t I come and meet her in the Duke’s Arms on Friday evening after work and we can pretend it’s like old times. Well, without Harry and Pete, of course.’ There, she’d done it, she’d said his name in front of a group of people and not broken down. She silently patted herself on the back.
‘Would you want to?’ asked Alice doubtfully.
Edith sighed. ‘If you’d asked me even last week, I’d have said no. But she might have a point. I don’t want to spend the summer moping around. Harry wouldn’t have wanted it and neither would Pete. After all, what harm could it do? It’s only down the road and we’ll know lots of people there. Clarrie might come.’ Peggy’s friend Clarrie worked in the gas-mask factory as well. She too was part of the old school gang. ‘Why don’t you come along, Al? Or Mary? Belinda?’
Alice shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. You go, but I’ll stay in.’ Everyone knew her idea of a good time was an evening spent reading a book in her room.
Belinda raised her eyebrows. ‘I might. There’s a chance my brother will be in town, and if he is I’ll want to try to meet him, but who knows with the trains these days. So I’ll see, if that’s all right with you.’
Mary beamed. ‘Count me in. Charles will be working late again, and so just you try to stop me.’
Gwen let her good friend Miriam take the window seat as they stepped onto the bus. Miriam had been adamant that Gwen should not waste her day off but accompany her to the West End for a shopping trip. Gwen had gone along, but more for the pleasure of spending the afternoon with her friend than with the intention of buying anything. She wasn’t particularly interested in what she wore; clothes served a purpose and that was that. Most of the time she wore her nurse’s uniform anyway. Miriam, however, had other ideas.
‘You can’t let what’s going on in the world stop you doing what you enjoy,’ she had said. ‘For me, that’s buying nice clothes. No, don’t wrinkle your nose like that. If you don’t want to buy anything yourself, I shan’t make you, but do me the favour of coming along and telling me what suits me best.’
Gwen had recognised this was simply a ruse, as nobody knew what suited Miriam better than Miriam herself. Now she glanced at her friend, beautifully turned out in a lilac skirt with matching light cotton jacket over a cream blouse with a delicate lace collar. She had kept her figure and it was hard to believe she had an adult son. Other women might have been jealous, but Gwen was happy for her, as she knew it mattered to Miriam that she looked smart. She had her role to play as the wife of a successful businessman. Also, she simply loved clothes.
‘I’m sure this little summer coat will come in useful,’ she said happily, patting the bag on her lap. ‘And how lucky that they had a scarf to go with it. You could have got one as well, Gwen.’
Gwen laughed. ‘Where would I wear it? Teaching first aid? I don’t think so.’
‘You’d wear it for the pure pleasure of it,’ Miriam laughed. ‘I always feel better when I have a nice scarf. It can make or break an outfit, you know.’
Gwen raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m sure it can. Just not one of mine.’ She glanced down at her plain grey skirt and serviceable beige blouse, which she’d run up from material she’d found at Ridley Road market.
‘Yes, even yours.’ Miriam tapped her on the arm. ‘Something in dark green would lift it. I have something I could lend you if you like.’
Gwen shook her head. ‘Thank you, but it would be wasted on me. You keep it. You’ll enjoy it more.’
They fell silent as they passed the shop fronts of Tottenham Court Road. There were still goods to buy but not as many as this time last year. There was an unspoken air of people going shopping while they still could. It was partly why Gwen had come. Even if she didn’t want anything, it was still a spectacle, and she didn’t know if or when she would be able to do so again. Like so many Londoners she was filled with a sense of deep foreboding.
A young couple got on and sat a few seats in front of them. The young man wore the uniform of the RAF, and the girl looked as if she had been crying as her eyes were red and puffy. She clung to his arm and looked imploringly up into his face. They were too far away for Gwen to hear what they were saying, but it wasn’t hard to guess.
She caught Miriam’s gaze.
Miriam shifted in her seat. ‘Did I tell you what I have decided to do?’
‘I don’t think so.’
Miriam nodded in determination. ‘I’m joining the WVS.’
‘The Women’s Voluntary Services?’
‘Yes, exactly.’ Miriam’s face was serious. ‘I am tired of hearing the news and feeling I’m doing nothing.’
‘But you’re always so busy,’ Gwen pointed out. ‘You’ve opened your house to families escaping Hitler.’
Miriam shrugged. ‘The families are no trouble – this new couple don’t have children, and they see to themselves most of the time. I have plenty of spare hours and I want to do something worthwhile with them. They need people who are organised and prepared to turn their hand to anything, so I thought I might fit in.’
‘Well, I should think they’d welcome you with open arms,’ Gwen said decisively. ‘You must let me know how you get on. If I can help, I will, but I won’t be able to join full time or anything like that. We’re going to be even busier from now on.’
‘Really?’ Miriam asked. ‘Do you know something I don’t about what’s happening over in France or Germany?’
Gwen realised her friend had misunderstood. ‘No, I meant
