until this evening when the sun comes round the back of the houses.’
Kay frowned at the long shadows cast from the lines of terraced houses, dock walls, factories and warehouses that were all huddled together on the island. It wasn’t like Len and
Doris’s big green garden where the sun seemed to fill every space, even floating down between the branches of the apple tree and dappling the grass beneath.
‘Come along, son. Down on your feet. Daddy will see you come to no harm.’ Alan held out his hand. ‘Let’s have a bit of fun in the Anderson, shall we?’
‘You can’t take him in there,’ Kay objected. ‘It’s cold and damp.’
‘He spent the two first weeks of the Blitz in the dugout, before he was carted off to Hertfordshire,’ Alan reminded her as she reluctantly lowered Alfie to the ground. ‘This
was his home, Kay. And besides, he might remember something.’
Kay felt very anxious. She didn’t feel as confident with Alfie as Alan did. In fact Doris’s voice still rang in her ears. Kay felt she might do something wrong at any moment.
‘I hope he don’t remember the noise of the bombs,’ she mumbled as she watched Alan take Alfie’s hand and lead him towards the shelter. ‘He might be frightened
again.’
But as soon as they had disappeared into the Anderson, Kay heard Alan’s low laugh and when he called to her to follow them inside, Kay was surprised at what she saw.
‘He remembers the bunk beds,’ Alan told her.
Alfie was, for once, grinning. He sat on the top bunk, dribble running down his chin.
‘I fixed the ladder up again,’ said Alan, looking pleased with himself.
‘Is it safe?’ Kay asked worriedly.
‘As houses,’ Alan assured her, as he swung Alfie to the floor again. ‘Anyway, it’s just a bit of fun.’
Kay smiled, but soon she went outside. It was clear that she was out of practice at being a mother. She saw danger lurking everywhere. Alfie seemed so precious and so vulnerable now. Was it the
bombing that had changed her?
‘Did you have a good time, Alfie?’ Kay asked when Alan and Alfie appeared some time later. She drew him into her arms and wiped his chin with her hanky. ‘Shall we get your pram
out from under the stairs. You used to love our walks to the park.’ She looked up at Alan. ‘He might remember the places we took him.’
‘Good idea.’
That afternoon, Kay pushed the pram into the yard. ‘Do you remember this, Alfie?’ She was disappointed when he gave her one of his long, frowning looks.
Alan poked her in the ribs. ‘Let’s sit him in it.’
Kay watched Alfie wriggle reluctantly into what had once seemed a large space. ‘He’s outgrown it,’ she complained.
‘It’ll do for now,’ said Alan, looking a little alarmed himself as he pushed the big hood as far back as it would go.
Vi came out to see them off. ‘Let the lad have a good look round his old haunts,’ she called. ‘He’s bound to remember us taking him under the arches and the railway line.
Then there’s the park and the swings. He used to love the sand pit, don’t forget.’
Kay hadn’t forgotten anything. All her memories of Alfie were carefully preserved in her head; her own invisible scrapbook that she’d turned the pages of a dozen times a day in
Alfie’s absence.
They set off through the gate and into the Cut, following the lane into Crane Street. When they got to the park, Alan lifted him out of the pram and set him on his feet. For a while Alfie was
happy to play in the small patch of sand and help Alan and Kay build castles. Then Alan pushed the pram all the way back to the top of East Ferry Road at a snail’s pace as Alfie insisted on
walking beside him.
‘Do you want to sit on Daddy’s shoulders?’ Kay asked as she bent to brush a few grains of sand from his chin.
But Alfie just shook his head.
‘It’s easy to say “Mummy”,’ Kay said, undefeated, as Alan waited for them. ‘Or “Daddy”.’ She mouthed the two words, hoping
Kay frowned at the long shadows cast from the lines of terraced houses, dock walls, factories and warehouses that were all huddled together on the island. It wasn’t like Len and
Doris’s big green garden where the sun seemed to fill every space, even floating down between the branches of the apple tree and dappling the grass beneath.
‘Come along, son. Down on your feet. Daddy will see you come to no harm.’ Alan held out his hand. ‘Let’s have a bit of fun in the Anderson, shall we?’
‘You can’t take him in there,’ Kay objected. ‘It’s cold and damp.’
‘He spent the two first weeks of the Blitz in the dugout, before he was carted off to Hertfordshire,’ Alan reminded her as she reluctantly lowered Alfie to the ground. ‘This
was his home, Kay. And besides, he might remember something.’
Kay felt very anxious. She didn’t feel as confident with Alfie as Alan did. In fact Doris’s voice still rang in her ears. Kay felt she might do something wrong at any moment.
‘I hope he don’t remember the noise of the bombs,’ she mumbled as she watched Alan take Alfie’s hand and lead him towards the shelter. ‘He might be frightened
again.’
But as soon as they had disappeared into the Anderson, Kay heard Alan’s low laugh and when he called to her to follow them inside, Kay was surprised at what she saw.
‘He remembers the bunk beds,’ Alan told her.
Alfie was, for once, grinning. He sat on the top bunk, dribble running down his chin.
‘I fixed the ladder up again,’ said Alan, looking pleased with himself.
‘Is it safe?’ Kay asked worriedly.
‘As houses,’ Alan assured her, as he swung Alfie to the floor again. ‘Anyway, it’s just a bit of fun.’
Kay smiled, but soon she went outside. It was clear that she was out of practice at being a mother. She saw danger lurking everywhere. Alfie seemed so precious and so vulnerable now. Was it the
bombing that had changed her?
‘Did you have a good time, Alfie?’ Kay asked when Alan and Alfie appeared some time later. She drew him into her arms and wiped his chin with her hanky. ‘Shall we get your pram
out from under the stairs. You used to love our walks to the park.’ She looked up at Alan. ‘He might remember the places we took him.’
‘Good idea.’
That afternoon, Kay pushed the pram into the yard. ‘Do you remember this, Alfie?’ She was disappointed when he gave her one of his long, frowning looks.
Alan poked her in the ribs. ‘Let’s sit him in it.’
Kay watched Alfie wriggle reluctantly into what had once seemed a large space. ‘He’s outgrown it,’ she complained.
‘It’ll do for now,’ said Alan, looking a little alarmed himself as he pushed the big hood as far back as it would go.
Vi came out to see them off. ‘Let the lad have a good look round his old haunts,’ she called. ‘He’s bound to remember us taking him under the arches and the railway line.
Then there’s the park and the swings. He used to love the sand pit, don’t forget.’
Kay hadn’t forgotten anything. All her memories of Alfie were carefully preserved in her head; her own invisible scrapbook that she’d turned the pages of a dozen times a day in
Alfie’s absence.
They set off through the gate and into the Cut, following the lane into Crane Street. When they got to the park, Alan lifted him out of the pram and set him on his feet. For a while Alfie was
happy to play in the small patch of sand and help Alan and Kay build castles. Then Alan pushed the pram all the way back to the top of East Ferry Road at a snail’s pace as Alfie insisted on
walking beside him.
‘Do you want to sit on Daddy’s shoulders?’ Kay asked as she bent to brush a few grains of sand from his chin.
But Alfie just shook his head.
‘It’s easy to say “Mummy”,’ Kay said, undefeated, as Alan waited for them. ‘Or “Daddy”.’ She mouthed the two words, hoping
Similar Books
