pink pyjamas in the middle of a bombardment.
“Max,” she said, “are you frightened?”
“Not really,” he said.
“Nor me.”
“I suppose,” said Max, “it’s a relief just for once to have the same worries as everyone else!”
The raid lasted all through the night. Anna slept fitfully, lulled to sleep by the drone of the planes and startled awake again by distant thuds and crashes, until the All Clear went at half-past five in the morning and Frau Gruber, who seemed to see this new development in Hitler’s air warfare as a personal challenge, appeared with cups of tea. She had pulled the blackout curtains aside and Anna saw, somehow to her surprise, that Bedford Terrace looked just as usual. The street was empty and the shabby houses stood silent under the pale sky, as though it had been a night like any other. While she watched, a door opened opposite and a woman dressed in trousers and a pyjama top appeared. She looked up searchingly at the sky, as Anna had done before. Then she yawned, stretched and went back inside to go back to bed or to start cooking breakfast.
Max was anxious to get off to his new job as soon as possible. He had managed with difficulty to get through to Euston Station on the telephone, and had been told that due to enemy action there would be long delays on all lines. SoAnna and Mama said goodbye to him as he packed his suitcase, with Papa sitting on the bed to keep him company, and went to work as usual.
It was a beautiful clear morning and as Anna walked through the back streets to Tottenham Court Road she was again amazed at how ordinary everything looked. Only there were more cars and taxis about than usual, often with luggage piled high on roof-racks – more people leaving London. While she was waiting to cross a road, a man just opening up his greengrocer’s shop smiled at her and called out, “Noisy last night!” and she answered, “Yes,” and smiled back.
She hurried past the back of the British Museum – this was the dullest part of her daily journey – and turned into a more interesting street with shops. There was some glass on the pavement in front of her – someone must have broken a window, she thought. And then she looked up and saw the rest of the street.
There was glass everywhere, doors hanging on their hinges, bits of rubble all over the road. And in the terrace opposite where there should have been a house there was a gap. The entire top floor had gone, and so had most of the front wall. They had subsided into a pile of bricks and stone which filled the road, and some men in overalls were shovelling them into the back of a lorry.
You could see right inside what remained of the house. It had had green wallpaper and the bathroom had been painted yellow. You could tell it was the bathroom because,even though most of the floor had gone, the part supporting the bath tub appeared to be suspended in space. Immediately above it was a hook with a flannel still hanging from it and a toothmug in the shape of Mickey Mouse.
“Horrible, isn’t it?” said an old man next to Anna. “Lucky there was no one in it – she’d taken the kids to her sister’s. I’d like to give that Hitler a piece of my mind!”
Then he went back to sweeping up the glass outside his shop.
Anna walked slowly down the street. The part closest to the bombed house had been cordoned off, in case any more of it fell down, and on one side of it a man and a woman were already nailing up sheets of cardboard in place of their broken windows. She was glad there had been nobody in the house when the bomb fell. One of the men shovelling rubble shouted to her to keep away and she turned down a side street.
There was only little damage here – broken windows and some dust and plaster underfoot – and, as she picked her way among the fragments of glass scattered on the pavement, she noticed how the sun sparkled on them. A little breeze blew the dust into swirls round her feet.
“Max,” she said, “are you frightened?”
“Not really,” he said.
“Nor me.”
“I suppose,” said Max, “it’s a relief just for once to have the same worries as everyone else!”
The raid lasted all through the night. Anna slept fitfully, lulled to sleep by the drone of the planes and startled awake again by distant thuds and crashes, until the All Clear went at half-past five in the morning and Frau Gruber, who seemed to see this new development in Hitler’s air warfare as a personal challenge, appeared with cups of tea. She had pulled the blackout curtains aside and Anna saw, somehow to her surprise, that Bedford Terrace looked just as usual. The street was empty and the shabby houses stood silent under the pale sky, as though it had been a night like any other. While she watched, a door opened opposite and a woman dressed in trousers and a pyjama top appeared. She looked up searchingly at the sky, as Anna had done before. Then she yawned, stretched and went back inside to go back to bed or to start cooking breakfast.
Max was anxious to get off to his new job as soon as possible. He had managed with difficulty to get through to Euston Station on the telephone, and had been told that due to enemy action there would be long delays on all lines. SoAnna and Mama said goodbye to him as he packed his suitcase, with Papa sitting on the bed to keep him company, and went to work as usual.
It was a beautiful clear morning and as Anna walked through the back streets to Tottenham Court Road she was again amazed at how ordinary everything looked. Only there were more cars and taxis about than usual, often with luggage piled high on roof-racks – more people leaving London. While she was waiting to cross a road, a man just opening up his greengrocer’s shop smiled at her and called out, “Noisy last night!” and she answered, “Yes,” and smiled back.
She hurried past the back of the British Museum – this was the dullest part of her daily journey – and turned into a more interesting street with shops. There was some glass on the pavement in front of her – someone must have broken a window, she thought. And then she looked up and saw the rest of the street.
There was glass everywhere, doors hanging on their hinges, bits of rubble all over the road. And in the terrace opposite where there should have been a house there was a gap. The entire top floor had gone, and so had most of the front wall. They had subsided into a pile of bricks and stone which filled the road, and some men in overalls were shovelling them into the back of a lorry.
You could see right inside what remained of the house. It had had green wallpaper and the bathroom had been painted yellow. You could tell it was the bathroom because,even though most of the floor had gone, the part supporting the bath tub appeared to be suspended in space. Immediately above it was a hook with a flannel still hanging from it and a toothmug in the shape of Mickey Mouse.
“Horrible, isn’t it?” said an old man next to Anna. “Lucky there was no one in it – she’d taken the kids to her sister’s. I’d like to give that Hitler a piece of my mind!”
Then he went back to sweeping up the glass outside his shop.
Anna walked slowly down the street. The part closest to the bombed house had been cordoned off, in case any more of it fell down, and on one side of it a man and a woman were already nailing up sheets of cardboard in place of their broken windows. She was glad there had been nobody in the house when the bomb fell. One of the men shovelling rubble shouted to her to keep away and she turned down a side street.
There was only little damage here – broken windows and some dust and plaster underfoot – and, as she picked her way among the fragments of glass scattered on the pavement, she noticed how the sun sparkled on them. A little breeze blew the dust into swirls round her feet.
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