Read Online The Girls They Left Behind by Lilian Harry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lilian Harry
Ads: Link
Mattia.’
Kathy’s heart sank. They had found the doll last night, during that first unbelieving survey of the bombed house. Almost everything had been smashed. The doll’s china face had been broken beyond repair, its arms and legs crushed. Kathy had wept herself at the sight of it. She remembered the day Mike had brought it home, when he’d come back from one of his Mediterranean trips. He’d brought her a little basketwork donkey at the same time… She’d turned away, too sick at heart to look for anything else. There wasn’t any point.
‘I’m sorry about Princess Marcia,’ she said, rocking Muriel in her arms. ‘We’ll get you another dolly.’ But she knew it wouldn’t be the same.
After that, there wasn’t time for crying. The helpers had poured out cups of tea on a trestle table at the end of the hall
and everyone was crowding round trying to grab the sugar. There was bread and marge too, but nothing else. Some of
the children picked at theirs and left it, others stuffed it into their mouths as though they hadn’t seen food for a month. Kathy put the pieces Stella and Muriel couldn’t eat into her pocket. There was no knowing where the next meal might come from.
‘What are we supposed to do now?’ she asked one of the helpers, a woman with grey hair and a tired face. She’d probably been up most of the night, trying to sort out the endless stream of people who’d been bombed out. ‘Where can we go?’
The woman shook her head. ‘Don’t ask me, love. I’m just here to pour out tea and make sandwiches. There’ll be someone come in from the council later on to sort all that out
for you.’
Kathy went back to the corner where she and the girls had
spent the night. It was the only home they had now, that rickety little camp bed and the pile of old cushions. She wondered how long they would have to live here, and what they would do for clothes and food. They had nothing but what they had been wearing when the siren had sounded.
The morning wore on. Nobody seemed to know quite what to do with themselves. People sat on their beds or gathered in small groups to talk about how awful the raid had been. A couple of women started an argument. Most of them were still feeling shaken, and one girl kept being sick.
Helpers came and went, and two or three women carrying briefcases came in and set up a sort of office on the trestle
tables. One of them called for attention and asked all those whose names began with A to form a queue to be interviewed.
‘That’s us at the back as usual,’ Kathy commented ruefully. Muriel had stopped her bitter crying now and was sitting
miserably on the camp bed. Stella, still white-faced and subdued, had asked if she could go outside to play, but Kathy had shaken her head.Td rather you stopped here, under my eye. We might have to go somewhere else and I don’t want to have to go looking for you.’
There were quite a few children, who had either not been evacuated or had been brought back when it seemed as if
there was going to be no bombing. A few had toys they’d
managed to salvage, but most of them were growing bored and restless. The smaller ones clung to their mothers, whining and grizzling, and some of the bigger boys started to chase round the hall, jumping on and off beds and shouting.
‘I ‘opes to Gawd we don’t ‘ave to stop ‘ere long,’ said a woman near Kathy. ‘You’d think they’d ‘ave summat better than this ready. I mean, what’re they going to do if there’s another lot like last night? We’ll be crowded out.’
‘I suppose they’re trying to get something organised now.’ The queue of people had now reached those whose names
began with D. The As, Bs and Cs had already returned to their little spaces and gathered up what belongings they still
possessed. ‘What does your name start with?’
‘W,’ the woman said gloomily. ‘Wilson. It’ll be the middle of next week before they gets round to me.’
‘Well, I
Kathy’s heart sank. They had found the doll last night, during that first unbelieving survey of the bombed house. Almost everything had been smashed. The doll’s china face had been broken beyond repair, its arms and legs crushed. Kathy had wept herself at the sight of it. She remembered the day Mike had brought it home, when he’d come back from one of his Mediterranean trips. He’d brought her a little basketwork donkey at the same time… She’d turned away, too sick at heart to look for anything else. There wasn’t any point.
‘I’m sorry about Princess Marcia,’ she said, rocking Muriel in her arms. ‘We’ll get you another dolly.’ But she knew it wouldn’t be the same.
After that, there wasn’t time for crying. The helpers had poured out cups of tea on a trestle table at the end of the hall
and everyone was crowding round trying to grab the sugar. There was bread and marge too, but nothing else. Some of
the children picked at theirs and left it, others stuffed it into their mouths as though they hadn’t seen food for a month. Kathy put the pieces Stella and Muriel couldn’t eat into her pocket. There was no knowing where the next meal might come from.
‘What are we supposed to do now?’ she asked one of the helpers, a woman with grey hair and a tired face. She’d probably been up most of the night, trying to sort out the endless stream of people who’d been bombed out. ‘Where can we go?’
The woman shook her head. ‘Don’t ask me, love. I’m just here to pour out tea and make sandwiches. There’ll be someone come in from the council later on to sort all that out
for you.’
Kathy went back to the corner where she and the girls had
spent the night. It was the only home they had now, that rickety little camp bed and the pile of old cushions. She wondered how long they would have to live here, and what they would do for clothes and food. They had nothing but what they had been wearing when the siren had sounded.
The morning wore on. Nobody seemed to know quite what to do with themselves. People sat on their beds or gathered in small groups to talk about how awful the raid had been. A couple of women started an argument. Most of them were still feeling shaken, and one girl kept being sick.
Helpers came and went, and two or three women carrying briefcases came in and set up a sort of office on the trestle
tables. One of them called for attention and asked all those whose names began with A to form a queue to be interviewed.
‘That’s us at the back as usual,’ Kathy commented ruefully. Muriel had stopped her bitter crying now and was sitting
miserably on the camp bed. Stella, still white-faced and subdued, had asked if she could go outside to play, but Kathy had shaken her head.Td rather you stopped here, under my eye. We might have to go somewhere else and I don’t want to have to go looking for you.’
There were quite a few children, who had either not been evacuated or had been brought back when it seemed as if
there was going to be no bombing. A few had toys they’d
managed to salvage, but most of them were growing bored and restless. The smaller ones clung to their mothers, whining and grizzling, and some of the bigger boys started to chase round the hall, jumping on and off beds and shouting.
‘I ‘opes to Gawd we don’t ‘ave to stop ‘ere long,’ said a woman near Kathy. ‘You’d think they’d ‘ave summat better than this ready. I mean, what’re they going to do if there’s another lot like last night? We’ll be crowded out.’
‘I suppose they’re trying to get something organised now.’ The queue of people had now reached those whose names
began with D. The As, Bs and Cs had already returned to their little spaces and gathered up what belongings they still
possessed. ‘What does your name start with?’
‘W,’ the woman said gloomily. ‘Wilson. It’ll be the middle of next week before they gets round to me.’
‘Well, I
Similar Books
