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Authors: Margaret J. Anderson
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of time away by herself. Marjorie scarcely noticed because she was so engrossed in Anne of Green Gables . The Christmas holiday passed quickly and uneventfully.
One night, just before school started, the girls were awakened by the wail of the air-raid siren. They had heard it before, but only when it sounded on Saturday afternoon at one o’clock for practice. This time it was real, warning them that there were German planes overhead, planes loaded with bombs. Marjorie’s skin prickled and she pulled the covers over her head trying to shut out the sound.
“Wake up, girls! Wake up!” Miss Campbell burst into the room and started shaking Marjorie. “There’s an air raid! We have to go down to the shelter. Bring your blankets.”
In great haste, tripping over her blankets, Marjorie followed the Miss Campbells down the stairs. Anna was so doped with sleep that, at first, she didn’t understand what was happening.
The Miss Campbells didn’t have a real air-raid shelter, but had decided the safest place in their house was the broom closet under the stairs. In the event of bombs exploding nearby, they would be protected from flying glass and falling bricks. The structure of the cupboard actually made it almost as safe as a shelter. They had stocked it with tins of biscuits and bottles of lemonade and candles and magazines.
But when Anna reached the closet door, she suddenly became frightened.
“Not in there! Not in there!” she shouted.
“Come along,” Miss Morag said impatiently, but Anna kicked and screamed, knocking over the mops and brushes standing near the door.
When they finally allowed Anna to sit out in the hall, her sobs subsided somewhat. Marjorie would have liked to join her. The closet was quite large, but the lack of windows and fresh air gave Marjorie a trapped feeling. It smelled of polish and ammonia and dust, and she was sure there were spiders and earwigs lurking in the corners, but the Miss Campbells were so proud of their improvised shelter she didn’t like to abandon it.
“Come in and join us, Anna,” Miss Morag said in a pleasant voice. “We’re going to have tea and biscuits.”
But Anna only started crying again.
“Likely someone shut her up in a cupboard when she was little,” Miss Agnes suggested. “Did they treat you all right in that orphanage you came from?”
“Oh, yes,” Marjorie answered.
“How long did you live there?”
“My parents died when I was four,” Marjorie answered.
“And what about Anna?” Miss Morag asked.
“I don’t remember.”
Just then they heard the drone of the German bombers. They were used to the sound of planes passing over, even at night, but to their straining ears these German planes sounded different—a dull throbbing that rose and fell with an uneven beat, a heavy sound. The sound of planes loaded with bombs.
Anna gave another frightened cry and hurled herself into the closet, spilling Miss Campbell’s tea all over the blankets. By the time they had sorted themselves out, the planes had passed over. After some time the siren sounded again, but with a different note. It was the all-clear siren.
They went back to bed, only to be awakened half an hour later by another wailing siren. They got up again and went down to the shelter, but this time Miss Agnes didn’t bother to make tea. Anna didn’t fuss, but Marjorie could feel her shivering under the blankets—probably as much from cold as from fright because she hadn’t bothered to put her slippers on.
The next day in his usual unemotional tone, the news commentator said that there had been an air raid on Glasgow. Considerable damage was reported.
As the air raids continued, the people of Canonbie gradually gained confidence. They no longer crawled out of bed to spend their nights in makeshift shelters. The German planes were just flying over on their way to drop bombs on the Glasgow docks. But the Miss Campbells still woke the girls and took them downstairs. They huddled
One night, just before school started, the girls were awakened by the wail of the air-raid siren. They had heard it before, but only when it sounded on Saturday afternoon at one o’clock for practice. This time it was real, warning them that there were German planes overhead, planes loaded with bombs. Marjorie’s skin prickled and she pulled the covers over her head trying to shut out the sound.
“Wake up, girls! Wake up!” Miss Campbell burst into the room and started shaking Marjorie. “There’s an air raid! We have to go down to the shelter. Bring your blankets.”
In great haste, tripping over her blankets, Marjorie followed the Miss Campbells down the stairs. Anna was so doped with sleep that, at first, she didn’t understand what was happening.
The Miss Campbells didn’t have a real air-raid shelter, but had decided the safest place in their house was the broom closet under the stairs. In the event of bombs exploding nearby, they would be protected from flying glass and falling bricks. The structure of the cupboard actually made it almost as safe as a shelter. They had stocked it with tins of biscuits and bottles of lemonade and candles and magazines.
But when Anna reached the closet door, she suddenly became frightened.
“Not in there! Not in there!” she shouted.
“Come along,” Miss Morag said impatiently, but Anna kicked and screamed, knocking over the mops and brushes standing near the door.
When they finally allowed Anna to sit out in the hall, her sobs subsided somewhat. Marjorie would have liked to join her. The closet was quite large, but the lack of windows and fresh air gave Marjorie a trapped feeling. It smelled of polish and ammonia and dust, and she was sure there were spiders and earwigs lurking in the corners, but the Miss Campbells were so proud of their improvised shelter she didn’t like to abandon it.
“Come in and join us, Anna,” Miss Morag said in a pleasant voice. “We’re going to have tea and biscuits.”
But Anna only started crying again.
“Likely someone shut her up in a cupboard when she was little,” Miss Agnes suggested. “Did they treat you all right in that orphanage you came from?”
“Oh, yes,” Marjorie answered.
“How long did you live there?”
“My parents died when I was four,” Marjorie answered.
“And what about Anna?” Miss Morag asked.
“I don’t remember.”
Just then they heard the drone of the German bombers. They were used to the sound of planes passing over, even at night, but to their straining ears these German planes sounded different—a dull throbbing that rose and fell with an uneven beat, a heavy sound. The sound of planes loaded with bombs.
Anna gave another frightened cry and hurled herself into the closet, spilling Miss Campbell’s tea all over the blankets. By the time they had sorted themselves out, the planes had passed over. After some time the siren sounded again, but with a different note. It was the all-clear siren.
They went back to bed, only to be awakened half an hour later by another wailing siren. They got up again and went down to the shelter, but this time Miss Agnes didn’t bother to make tea. Anna didn’t fuss, but Marjorie could feel her shivering under the blankets—probably as much from cold as from fright because she hadn’t bothered to put her slippers on.
The next day in his usual unemotional tone, the news commentator said that there had been an air raid on Glasgow. Considerable damage was reported.
As the air raids continued, the people of Canonbie gradually gained confidence. They no longer crawled out of bed to spend their nights in makeshift shelters. The German planes were just flying over on their way to drop bombs on the Glasgow docks. But the Miss Campbells still woke the girls and took them downstairs. They huddled
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