Read Online Beware This Boy by Maureen Jennings - Free Book Online

she’d met somebody else. Hodge was furious more than hurt. “You can’t trust them, Bri. No matter what tale they spin, they’ll hand it all over to some sweet-talker the moment your boat sails.” Brian had immediately started to worry about Vanessa. They’d been married only a month before he was called up and sent to Aldershot for basic training. He hadn’t seen her for over five months. They’d been separated longer than together. He thought about her constantly, until the need to see her became a consuming hunger. So he’d run away, hidden out in barns and sheds until finally he hopped on a train at Wolverhampton and managed by sheer luck not to get caught.
    The train had pulled into the Birmingham station only minutes before a big raid started. He’d hardly got to the end of the street when the warning siren began to scream. The crowd of people around him scattered, most of them heading for the nearest shelter. But the thought of being packed like sardines in a tin repelled him and he kept on, in spite of the warden yelling at him to take cover. Soon he was the only person on the street.
    He could hear the rumble of the Jerry bombers overhead. There must have been dozens of them. The searchlights began to rake the sky and he saw planes unload their bombs, which twisted and turned as they fell, as if they were light as sticks. The
thwump, thwump
of the ack-ack guns sounded loud and powerful. The barrage balloons, like huge silver fish, shiveredon their tethers, and he saw one break loose and collide with some electric wires, bursting into dazzling flames. He had run then, fear propelling him.
    Brian rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. His Aunt Eileen had used the word
concussed
. The Cowans had been concussed by the force of the bomb blast. There was a knitting bag on the floor next to Mrs. Cowan like the kind his gran had, and Mr. Cowan had a newspaper spread across his knees. Brian wondered at what point Mr. Cowan had taken his wife’s hand, and if in those last few moments of life they had known what was happening.
    He shoved aside the coverlet and swung his legs out of the bed, realizing he was wearing blue flannel pyjamas that were too large for him – must be his granddad’s. He stood up and walked carefully to the wardrobe where the chamber pot was kept. He hated the fact that he had to use it and leave it for his gran to empty in the outside lavatory, but there was no help for it. He daren’t go outside.
    The linoleum was cold beneath his feet and he shivered as he went over to the window and cautiously lifted a corner of the blackout curtain. The clock said it was nine o’clock but it could easily have been late afternoon. Outside, the backyard looked dreary and dank; the sodden bushes along the path drooped. The fog had lifted but its presence lingered in the dampness and the grey feeble light.
    He heard the sound of the front door and his aunt calling goodbye to her parents.
    He replaced the chamber pot in the wardrobe. Then he went out into the hall. As he was crossing the landing, his gran’s voice came from the bottom of the stairs.
    “Bri? Are you up?”
    She was standing looking up at him, and her worry came at him like a blow.
    “Yes, I’m up, Gran. I’ll be right there.”
    “I’ve made you some breakfast. Granddad says you can use his razor if you want to.”
    “That’ll be super, thanks.”
    He continued on to the bathroom. His image in the mirror was shocking. Deep shadows underneath his eyes, a heavy growth of beard, greasy hair. He shaved quickly and scrubbed at his face with a flannel. His clothes weren’t anywhere to be seen, but there was a striped terry cloth dressing gown hanging on the back of the door that he guessed was for him.
    He went downstairs to the living room. His granddad was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, his foot on a stool. His gran was in the kitchen.
    “Morning, Brian,” said Joe. “You’re up earlier than I expected. I