Now the War Is Over by Annie Murray

with all their varying difficulties, she was filled with astonishment.
    ‘All right, all right, calm down, wench!’ Danny said, trying to put down the bags he was carrying as she hung round his neck. But he was laughing at her enthusiasm.
    ‘I just never knew there were people like that, Danny.’ She was tearful again now. ‘It feels as if . . .’ How to say it, that everything felt different, that the whole
world seemed to have changed when you could find all this help and kindness in it?
    Danny looked round. ‘Where is the lad then?’
    ‘Upstairs having a kip,’ Rachel said. ‘He was worn out after all the excitement, poor little lamb. Oh, Danny –’ She went to him again. ‘I’m so pleased
for him. I can hardly believe it.’

Eleven
    Tommy sat in the back of the taxi as he did every afternoon now. They turned up Alma Street and parked in the usual place. It was Friday, the end of his first week at school
and he was so tired he had almost fallen asleep on the comfortable car seat on the drive home.
    ‘I’ll just go and get your mother,’ the driver said.
    Tommy waited. He was always waiting for something. He could feel people peering into the car and he shrank down in the seat. If only he could jump out and run along the entry out of sight! He
knew that later he’d go to Mo and Dolly’s house to watch their television. He loved telly with a passion. It could take you anywhere. At school he had made a friend called Simon who
loved telly as well and they talked about
The Quatermass Experiment.
Even though it ended months ago it still gave him churning, excited, terrified feelings when he thought about it. There
was a new series on now called
Fabian of the Yard
, which was all about policemen and crimes. Tommy had seen one episode and was itching to see more of it . . .
    Knuckles rapped the window. ‘Tommy! Wakey-wakey!’
    His mother opened the door. Her face looked white and tired. Tommy wriggled and slithered out of the car and into his chair.
    ‘Thanks very much,’ Rachel said to the driver.
    ‘All right. Ta-ra,’ he muttered, through his cigarette.
    ‘How was it today?’ She leaned down and he felt her breath on his neck and heard the anxiety in her voice. ‘Taxi all right?’ The driver of the hearse had been right
– the old taxis which ferried the children around often coughed bronchially into silence on the way.
    ‘Yeah. All right.’
    It
was
all right. It was more than all right, sitting in the classroom with other boys and girls the same as him but each different in their own way. Some had far worse difficulties
than his. They were trying him out doing all sorts of things. He showed them that he could write his letters as long as the paper was fixed down. People seemed to be pleased. Tommy felt happy but
limp with exhaustion. So many things happening all day – it wore him out.
    As soon as they got into the yard, Melly appeared. She came and helped Mom push the chair, although Mom didn’t need help.
    ‘Did you like your school today?’ she asked, babying him.
    He didn’t say anything. Melly had always given him lessons when she got home from school. When he had been sitting not doing much all day, he had waited for her, wanting her to come home.
But now when he got back he had been on the go all day and he was tired out.
    In the house, Mom had cut him a piece with jam on it.
    ‘When you’ve had that, shall I play a game with you?’ Melly said.
    Tommy was deep in one of Dad’s comics. He shook his head. ‘No – don’t wan’oo.’
    He didn’t look at Melly. He knew she was good with games and lessons but he had proper teachers now. She took over everything. He wished she would leave him alone.
    ‘Don’t you want to do some letters?’ Melly persisted. Tommy could hear the hurt in her voice but he carried on staring at the comic.
    ‘Leave him, Melly,’ Mom snapped. ‘He’s had enough. And that telly programme he likes is on soon anyhow. Why don’t you go and