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Authors: Mary Nichols
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man.’
‘Yes.’
Ian strolled out to join them. ‘The women are washing up and your father is listening to the news, keeping an eye on the babies at the same time.’ He accepted the cigarette Roly offered him. ‘Do you think those things will do any good?’ He nodded towards the Anderson shelter a little further down the garden.
‘They are supposed to withstand everything but a direct hit,’ Harry said, offering his lighter. ‘Haven’t you got one?’
‘What, in a flat with no garden? Where would we put it?’
‘Never thought of that.’
‘The basement has been designated our shelter. At least it’s warm down there right next to the boiler. The landlord has installed bunks and a lavatory and some heavy steel doors to withstand shock waves.’
‘You’re not sending Millie and Dorothy to the country, then?’
‘She won’t go.’
‘It’s the same with Julie.’
They fell silent, contemplating a future they could only imagine. They looked towards the house as Julie came to the door and called them in. ‘It will soon be blackout time.’
‘Let’s make the most of Christmas, shall we?’ Harry said as they trooped indoors, shut the door behind them and drew the blackout curtains.
Making the most of Christmas meant ignoring the news, stocking up on tinned foods, flour and sugar, candles and oil for lamps to be used in the shelter and in the event of the electricity being cut off. The trouble was that everyone seemed to be doing the same thing and already the price of foodstuffs was rising and some things were becoming hard to find, especially those that had to be brought into the country by sea. Bananas had disappeared and oranges were like gold dust. Julie had to pay a shilling for a single orange to put in George’s stocking and it turned out to be sour. He pulled a face and spat it out.
‘You shouldn’t have bought it,’ Harry said. ‘George isn’t old enough to know the difference, is he?’
‘No, but I so wanted him to have one,’ she said, sprinkling it thickly with sugar and offering it to him again. ‘The only time we had an orange at the Coram was on Christmas Day.’
Her life in the orphanage had left an indelible mark on Julie. She was scarred because of it; her claustrophobia, her obsession with cleanliness and routine and her fear of doing wrong in the eyes of those in authority were ingrained in her. But she could be extraordinarily stubborn when she chose, and when she dug her heels in, nothing and nobody could budge her. Coram had not taught her that; it wassomething inbred in her, a throwback to one or other of her parents – probably her father, because her mother had given up on her. That rankled; she did not know what she could have done as a tiny baby to be abandoned in that way. She had tried to talk to Harry about how she felt, not only about her background but how much his loving her meant to her, but the inmates had never been encouraged to speak of their emotions in the home, and she found it difficult to express herself. But she swore to herself that whatever it took she would make sure George did not go short, either of affection or food.
Chapter Three
The shortage of oranges was the least of their problems as 1940 was ushered in with bitterly cold weather. In the countryside, snow blocked the roads and piled into drifts, rivers froze over and potatoes could not be dug out of the ground. The railways were almost at a standstill, which meant any produce that could be gathered could not be transported to the cities. In London the roads were cleared one day, only to be covered again the next; water pipes froze and milk went solid on doorsteps and even the Thames froze. The greengrocer’s shop in the Old Kent Road had very little on its shelves and the coalman ran out of coal. Julie was at her wits’ end, trying to keep the house warm and her little family fed.
She was in the queue at the greengrocer’s one day, gazing at the empty shelves, wondering how
‘Yes.’
Ian strolled out to join them. ‘The women are washing up and your father is listening to the news, keeping an eye on the babies at the same time.’ He accepted the cigarette Roly offered him. ‘Do you think those things will do any good?’ He nodded towards the Anderson shelter a little further down the garden.
‘They are supposed to withstand everything but a direct hit,’ Harry said, offering his lighter. ‘Haven’t you got one?’
‘What, in a flat with no garden? Where would we put it?’
‘Never thought of that.’
‘The basement has been designated our shelter. At least it’s warm down there right next to the boiler. The landlord has installed bunks and a lavatory and some heavy steel doors to withstand shock waves.’
‘You’re not sending Millie and Dorothy to the country, then?’
‘She won’t go.’
‘It’s the same with Julie.’
They fell silent, contemplating a future they could only imagine. They looked towards the house as Julie came to the door and called them in. ‘It will soon be blackout time.’
‘Let’s make the most of Christmas, shall we?’ Harry said as they trooped indoors, shut the door behind them and drew the blackout curtains.
Making the most of Christmas meant ignoring the news, stocking up on tinned foods, flour and sugar, candles and oil for lamps to be used in the shelter and in the event of the electricity being cut off. The trouble was that everyone seemed to be doing the same thing and already the price of foodstuffs was rising and some things were becoming hard to find, especially those that had to be brought into the country by sea. Bananas had disappeared and oranges were like gold dust. Julie had to pay a shilling for a single orange to put in George’s stocking and it turned out to be sour. He pulled a face and spat it out.
‘You shouldn’t have bought it,’ Harry said. ‘George isn’t old enough to know the difference, is he?’
‘No, but I so wanted him to have one,’ she said, sprinkling it thickly with sugar and offering it to him again. ‘The only time we had an orange at the Coram was on Christmas Day.’
Her life in the orphanage had left an indelible mark on Julie. She was scarred because of it; her claustrophobia, her obsession with cleanliness and routine and her fear of doing wrong in the eyes of those in authority were ingrained in her. But she could be extraordinarily stubborn when she chose, and when she dug her heels in, nothing and nobody could budge her. Coram had not taught her that; it wassomething inbred in her, a throwback to one or other of her parents – probably her father, because her mother had given up on her. That rankled; she did not know what she could have done as a tiny baby to be abandoned in that way. She had tried to talk to Harry about how she felt, not only about her background but how much his loving her meant to her, but the inmates had never been encouraged to speak of their emotions in the home, and she found it difficult to express herself. But she swore to herself that whatever it took she would make sure George did not go short, either of affection or food.
Chapter Three
The shortage of oranges was the least of their problems as 1940 was ushered in with bitterly cold weather. In the countryside, snow blocked the roads and piled into drifts, rivers froze over and potatoes could not be dug out of the ground. The railways were almost at a standstill, which meant any produce that could be gathered could not be transported to the cities. In London the roads were cleared one day, only to be covered again the next; water pipes froze and milk went solid on doorsteps and even the Thames froze. The greengrocer’s shop in the Old Kent Road had very little on its shelves and the coalman ran out of coal. Julie was at her wits’ end, trying to keep the house warm and her little family fed.
She was in the queue at the greengrocer’s one day, gazing at the empty shelves, wondering how