mean tomorrow?’
‘No, I got to work tomorrow. Next week. I got money this time.’
‘Wonder where from?’ murmured Lisa.
‘Come on, Lisa, let’s do it. We did it before.’
‘Yes, and I got into real trouble for it.’
‘Did you?’ Harry didn’t sound particularly interested. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘You didn’t ask,’ snapped Lisa.
‘Say you’re going round Hilda’s.’
‘It’s not that easy, Harry.’
‘I’ll wait for you in the park, Saturday. Next Saturday, right?’ He seemed to take her acquiescence for granted and, with a wave of his hand and a quick ‘See you then,’ he was gone.
Lisa scurried through the streets knowing she was late and that Aunt Naomi would be worried. The trouble was, Aunt Naomi always worried and it seemed to Lisa that she was often the cause. When she’d said as much to Hilda one day she’d been overheard by Hilda’s mother.
‘Of course she worries about you,’ Esther scolded. ‘She’s looking after you for your parents. It’s a big responsibility.’
‘I haven’t got any parents,’ Lisa said flatly. ‘They’re dead.’
‘No, Lisa,’ Esther said more gently. ‘You don’t know that for sure and you must never give up hope. My parents are in Berlin and I haven’t heard from them either, but we have to remember that they can’t write to us from Germany, can they? We have to keep hoping.’
Lisa had been keeping a tiny flame of hope alive in her heart, but Harry thought she was silly.
‘You have to accept that they’re gone, Lisa,’ he said. ‘Same as mine have.’
‘I know you’re right,’ she said. But, secretly, she still harboured the hope.
As she hurried home now the air was suddenly rent by the swooping wail of the air raid siren, the normal afternoon sounds of the streets drowned in its agonised howl. For a moment Lisa paused, peering up into the August sky. Silver barrage balloons swung in the breeze, tugging at their tethers, bulbous grey whales shifting against the clear blue of the sky, but there were no planes in sight. Was it a false alarm? she wondered. Perhaps it was, for although they happened occasionally, daylight raids were rare. But then she heard, through the wailing of the siren, the distant sound of anti-aircraft fire and the faint but insistent drone of engines, planes as yet unseen but roaring relentlessly as they homed in on their target. People were hurrying to the public shelter at the end of the street, but nothing would have induced Lisa to join them and take refuge there. Being shut in, especially with a crowd of other people, was her worst nightmare. She wasn’t far from home. She’d have to go down into the cellar; that was bad enough, but better than the public shelter. As she turned into the little street with its flat-faced terraced houses opening directly on to the pavement, she saw Aunt Naomi, standing at the front door of sixty-five, looking anxiously up and down the road. Catching sight of Lisa, she waved at her frantically, shrieking her name, though her voice was lost in the sound of the siren, and Lisa began running again.
‘Where have you been, Lisa?’ Naomi cried as she pulled her indoors. ‘You’re late! You could have been caught in the street!’ Her fear made her angry and she said, ‘Go down to the cellar.’
Lisa opened the cellar door but waited at the top of the stone steps, listening to the continuing wail of the siren outside and wondering where Uncle Dan was, wishing he was there with them.
Aunt Naomi snatched the kettle off the hob and filled a vacuum flask with hot water. ‘Come on, Lisa,’ she said, ‘we must go down,’ and she led the way into the comparative safety of the underground room. Naomi usually had time to fill her thermos, as she had today, and she kept some of the precious tea ration in a small jar, so that they could have a hot drink.
Lisa and Naomi sat in the candlelit cellar listening to the drone of aircraft overhead, the boom of the
‘No, I got to work tomorrow. Next week. I got money this time.’
‘Wonder where from?’ murmured Lisa.
‘Come on, Lisa, let’s do it. We did it before.’
‘Yes, and I got into real trouble for it.’
‘Did you?’ Harry didn’t sound particularly interested. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘You didn’t ask,’ snapped Lisa.
‘Say you’re going round Hilda’s.’
‘It’s not that easy, Harry.’
‘I’ll wait for you in the park, Saturday. Next Saturday, right?’ He seemed to take her acquiescence for granted and, with a wave of his hand and a quick ‘See you then,’ he was gone.
Lisa scurried through the streets knowing she was late and that Aunt Naomi would be worried. The trouble was, Aunt Naomi always worried and it seemed to Lisa that she was often the cause. When she’d said as much to Hilda one day she’d been overheard by Hilda’s mother.
‘Of course she worries about you,’ Esther scolded. ‘She’s looking after you for your parents. It’s a big responsibility.’
‘I haven’t got any parents,’ Lisa said flatly. ‘They’re dead.’
‘No, Lisa,’ Esther said more gently. ‘You don’t know that for sure and you must never give up hope. My parents are in Berlin and I haven’t heard from them either, but we have to remember that they can’t write to us from Germany, can they? We have to keep hoping.’
Lisa had been keeping a tiny flame of hope alive in her heart, but Harry thought she was silly.
‘You have to accept that they’re gone, Lisa,’ he said. ‘Same as mine have.’
‘I know you’re right,’ she said. But, secretly, she still harboured the hope.
As she hurried home now the air was suddenly rent by the swooping wail of the air raid siren, the normal afternoon sounds of the streets drowned in its agonised howl. For a moment Lisa paused, peering up into the August sky. Silver barrage balloons swung in the breeze, tugging at their tethers, bulbous grey whales shifting against the clear blue of the sky, but there were no planes in sight. Was it a false alarm? she wondered. Perhaps it was, for although they happened occasionally, daylight raids were rare. But then she heard, through the wailing of the siren, the distant sound of anti-aircraft fire and the faint but insistent drone of engines, planes as yet unseen but roaring relentlessly as they homed in on their target. People were hurrying to the public shelter at the end of the street, but nothing would have induced Lisa to join them and take refuge there. Being shut in, especially with a crowd of other people, was her worst nightmare. She wasn’t far from home. She’d have to go down into the cellar; that was bad enough, but better than the public shelter. As she turned into the little street with its flat-faced terraced houses opening directly on to the pavement, she saw Aunt Naomi, standing at the front door of sixty-five, looking anxiously up and down the road. Catching sight of Lisa, she waved at her frantically, shrieking her name, though her voice was lost in the sound of the siren, and Lisa began running again.
‘Where have you been, Lisa?’ Naomi cried as she pulled her indoors. ‘You’re late! You could have been caught in the street!’ Her fear made her angry and she said, ‘Go down to the cellar.’
Lisa opened the cellar door but waited at the top of the stone steps, listening to the continuing wail of the siren outside and wondering where Uncle Dan was, wishing he was there with them.
Aunt Naomi snatched the kettle off the hob and filled a vacuum flask with hot water. ‘Come on, Lisa,’ she said, ‘we must go down,’ and she led the way into the comparative safety of the underground room. Naomi usually had time to fill her thermos, as she had today, and she kept some of the precious tea ration in a small jar, so that they could have a hot drink.
Lisa and Naomi sat in the candlelit cellar listening to the drone of aircraft overhead, the boom of the
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