Thursday morning, then joined the rest of the family and Miss Rutherford for lunch before setting off on their separate journeys in the late afternoon: Ted to Dagenham to see his mother and grandmother; Peter to his base in Norfolk.
Peter came to say goodbye to Josie, and told her, “You’ll speak up for your brother, won’t you, Josie? He’s a brave chap.”
She nodded. “Because he rescued that trapped man.”
“No, not because of that. That was brave, but – well, as he said, it had to be done, and he just happened to be there. But to be a C.O., to stand up for your beliefs when everyone else is rushing into war, to risk ridicule and hatred and put up with it day after day: that’s truly brave. I know I couldn’t do it. You should be proud of him.”
I am, thought Josie. And I will speak up for him. It would be difficult, she knew; but if Peter and Ted could be brave, so could she.
Edith interrupted her thoughts. “It was fun yesterday, wasn’t it? All that first aid and organizing and washing-up?” She added guiltily, “Of course I know it was dreadful really, but – well, it was exciting and we were all part of it and I felt useful . Usually Mummy treats me like a baby because I’m the youngest and Peter and Moira have always been so” – she rolled her eyes – “ wonderfully clever and well behaved. But they all needed us yesterday, didn’t they?”
“Yes. It was good. Better than games.”
“Better than collecting shrapnel and going on that stupid bomb site. I shan’t go there again.” She looked sidelong at Josie. “And I won’t let the others call you names again. I promise.”
“Thanks.” Josie smiled.
“We were horrible to Alice Hampton, weren’t we?” Edith said.
“Yes.”
“I feel bad about it. Do you think, if we told her we were really, really sorry, that she’d forgive us, and be friends?”
“I don’t know.” Josie had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy as that. But – “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
Maybe, she thought, if Alice could be drawn out of her shell, she would turn out to be less peculiar and more interesting than they’d thought. She might even be fun.
“Only – I shan’t be around,” she said. “Not for long, anyway.”
Her mother had phoned yesterday, anxious after the night of bombing. She had said Granny was doing well, and Josie might be home in a couple of weeks.
Home. Back to her own neighbourhood, to the taunts and name calling. But I shan’t mind as much as I did, Josie realized; I’m stronger now. When she thought of all the things that had happened in the last two weeks she felt amazed, and thankful. Perhaps there would be time for her to make friends with Alice, after all.
Wartime abbreviations
During World War Two people used a great many abbreviations in everyday speech. On the Home Front, taking care of civilians, were the Air Raid Protection (ARP) wardens and the Women’s Voluntary Service (WVS). Women who joined the Forces might be in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) or the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS); and bomber pilots such as Peter were in the Royal Air Force (RAF).
A stirrup pump was a device that civilians could keep at home and use to extinguish fires caused by incendiary bombs.
Author’s note
I have always been intrigued by old houses. I’ve lived in several, and like to imagine (and sometimes find out) who lived there before, and how the house has changed over time.
Number 6 Chelsea Walk, our imaginary house, is based on a real London house, and becomes home to three very different girls. In my story, Josie lives there in 1941, during the Blitz, and I found it fascinating to discover what really happened in Chelsea at that time and to bring some real events to her story, like the bombing of the local church. I hope you enjoy reading it, and recognizing the house and perhaps one or two characters from the earlier stories.
About the author
Ann Turnbull knew from an early age
Peter came to say goodbye to Josie, and told her, “You’ll speak up for your brother, won’t you, Josie? He’s a brave chap.”
She nodded. “Because he rescued that trapped man.”
“No, not because of that. That was brave, but – well, as he said, it had to be done, and he just happened to be there. But to be a C.O., to stand up for your beliefs when everyone else is rushing into war, to risk ridicule and hatred and put up with it day after day: that’s truly brave. I know I couldn’t do it. You should be proud of him.”
I am, thought Josie. And I will speak up for him. It would be difficult, she knew; but if Peter and Ted could be brave, so could she.
Edith interrupted her thoughts. “It was fun yesterday, wasn’t it? All that first aid and organizing and washing-up?” She added guiltily, “Of course I know it was dreadful really, but – well, it was exciting and we were all part of it and I felt useful . Usually Mummy treats me like a baby because I’m the youngest and Peter and Moira have always been so” – she rolled her eyes – “ wonderfully clever and well behaved. But they all needed us yesterday, didn’t they?”
“Yes. It was good. Better than games.”
“Better than collecting shrapnel and going on that stupid bomb site. I shan’t go there again.” She looked sidelong at Josie. “And I won’t let the others call you names again. I promise.”
“Thanks.” Josie smiled.
“We were horrible to Alice Hampton, weren’t we?” Edith said.
“Yes.”
“I feel bad about it. Do you think, if we told her we were really, really sorry, that she’d forgive us, and be friends?”
“I don’t know.” Josie had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy as that. But – “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”
Maybe, she thought, if Alice could be drawn out of her shell, she would turn out to be less peculiar and more interesting than they’d thought. She might even be fun.
“Only – I shan’t be around,” she said. “Not for long, anyway.”
Her mother had phoned yesterday, anxious after the night of bombing. She had said Granny was doing well, and Josie might be home in a couple of weeks.
Home. Back to her own neighbourhood, to the taunts and name calling. But I shan’t mind as much as I did, Josie realized; I’m stronger now. When she thought of all the things that had happened in the last two weeks she felt amazed, and thankful. Perhaps there would be time for her to make friends with Alice, after all.
Wartime abbreviations
During World War Two people used a great many abbreviations in everyday speech. On the Home Front, taking care of civilians, were the Air Raid Protection (ARP) wardens and the Women’s Voluntary Service (WVS). Women who joined the Forces might be in the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) or the Auxiliary Territorial Service (ATS); and bomber pilots such as Peter were in the Royal Air Force (RAF).
A stirrup pump was a device that civilians could keep at home and use to extinguish fires caused by incendiary bombs.
Author’s note
I have always been intrigued by old houses. I’ve lived in several, and like to imagine (and sometimes find out) who lived there before, and how the house has changed over time.
Number 6 Chelsea Walk, our imaginary house, is based on a real London house, and becomes home to three very different girls. In my story, Josie lives there in 1941, during the Blitz, and I found it fascinating to discover what really happened in Chelsea at that time and to bring some real events to her story, like the bombing of the local church. I hope you enjoy reading it, and recognizing the house and perhaps one or two characters from the earlier stories.
About the author
Ann Turnbull knew from an early age
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