tumbling in before she could reach it, and she gathered up the baby and pushed them before her down the garden path.
Back at Bridge End the following week, the Budds found themselves centres of attention as their friends gathered round them to ask what it had been like to be in an air-raid.
‘It was smashing,’ Tim declared, swaggering along the country lane. ‘Planes flying over the top of us, dropping bombs all over the place. Terrific explosions. And a huge great fire, the sky was all full of flames. We thought the whole of Pompey was going to catch fire.’
‘Go on,’ Brian Collins sneered. ‘It couldn’t’ve been that bad. There wasn’t that many houses burnt down.’
‘It was the gasholder. It could’ve gone up like a bomb itself. They had every fire engine in Pompey there trying to put it
out.’
‘Weren’t you scared?’ a little girl asked, awed, and Brian Collins sniggered again.
‘Course he was. That’s why he’s come back, ain’t it? Scared out of his wits, not that he had many to start with.’
Tim scowled. He and Brian Collins had always been enemies. ‘I wasn’t scared,’ he said hotly. ‘It was my Dad said we had to come back. Anyway, I like being in the country. After the war we’re all going to come and live here, Mum and Dad. and our baby, all of us.’
‘You’re welcome to it,’ Brian said. ‘I’m fed up with the country. Old man Callaway treats me like a slave. I’d sooner be back in Pompey, going mudlarking.’
‘You’re not allowed to do that now,’ Tim said. ‘The harbour’s full of unexploded bombs. You’d get blown up.’
Brian made a face at him and Tim turned away. His Dad had told him often enough not to let Brian Collins goad him
into a fight. ‘You should always stand up for yourself,’ he said, ‘but you shouldn’t start it. Anyway, it’s not worth bothering with people like that. Just take no notice.’
Tim tried to follow his father’s advice, but it wasn’t easy when he saw the sneer on Brian’s face. He wanted to wipe it off with a good hard punch. But that would mean he’d hit out first, and put himself into the wrong, which Dad had told him was just what Brian wanted.
Rose was less eager to recount her air-raid experiences. She told her foster-mother Mrs Greenberry about it, and the
countrywoman’s face grew pale.
‘You mean you weren’t even at home with your Mum? And the boys were out in the streets? That poor soul, she must have been worried sick.’
Dad wasn’t home either,’ Rose said. ‘He was on his way home from work. He had to stop and help. There was people killed, bodies everywhere.’ Frank hadn’t told her that, but her own imagination told her it must have been so. She had lain awake, wondering what it had been like. It would have been better if he had told her, she thought, then she wouldn’t have to keep imagining it, but she hadn’t dared ask him. Even Mum had been cross when she’d mentioned it.
‘Little girls don’t have to worry about things like that,’ she’d told her. ‘That’s why you’re going back to Bridge End. You just help Mrs Greenberry like you help me, and forget about the war.’
Rose hadn’t wanted to come back to Bridge End. She liked the Greenberrys and she’d been frightened during the raid, but she’d still rather be at home with Mum. Especially when they knew that Southampton was being bombed and heard on the news that there’d been more raids over Portsmouth.
Suppose something happened to number 14. Suppose Mum and Dad were hurt — killed even — and Rose wasn’t there to help. Suppose someone forgot to let her know. ‘Of course they won’t forget,’ Mrs Greenberry said. ‘Anyway, nothing’s going to happen to your mum and dad. Now, you stop thinking about it and go down the garden and pick us a few peas. Mr Greenberry’s brought home a nice rabbit for our supper, and you know you like rabbit.’ But rabbit wasn’t enough to stop Rose worrying. And she
Back at Bridge End the following week, the Budds found themselves centres of attention as their friends gathered round them to ask what it had been like to be in an air-raid.
‘It was smashing,’ Tim declared, swaggering along the country lane. ‘Planes flying over the top of us, dropping bombs all over the place. Terrific explosions. And a huge great fire, the sky was all full of flames. We thought the whole of Pompey was going to catch fire.’
‘Go on,’ Brian Collins sneered. ‘It couldn’t’ve been that bad. There wasn’t that many houses burnt down.’
‘It was the gasholder. It could’ve gone up like a bomb itself. They had every fire engine in Pompey there trying to put it
out.’
‘Weren’t you scared?’ a little girl asked, awed, and Brian Collins sniggered again.
‘Course he was. That’s why he’s come back, ain’t it? Scared out of his wits, not that he had many to start with.’
Tim scowled. He and Brian Collins had always been enemies. ‘I wasn’t scared,’ he said hotly. ‘It was my Dad said we had to come back. Anyway, I like being in the country. After the war we’re all going to come and live here, Mum and Dad. and our baby, all of us.’
‘You’re welcome to it,’ Brian said. ‘I’m fed up with the country. Old man Callaway treats me like a slave. I’d sooner be back in Pompey, going mudlarking.’
‘You’re not allowed to do that now,’ Tim said. ‘The harbour’s full of unexploded bombs. You’d get blown up.’
Brian made a face at him and Tim turned away. His Dad had told him often enough not to let Brian Collins goad him
into a fight. ‘You should always stand up for yourself,’ he said, ‘but you shouldn’t start it. Anyway, it’s not worth bothering with people like that. Just take no notice.’
Tim tried to follow his father’s advice, but it wasn’t easy when he saw the sneer on Brian’s face. He wanted to wipe it off with a good hard punch. But that would mean he’d hit out first, and put himself into the wrong, which Dad had told him was just what Brian wanted.
Rose was less eager to recount her air-raid experiences. She told her foster-mother Mrs Greenberry about it, and the
countrywoman’s face grew pale.
‘You mean you weren’t even at home with your Mum? And the boys were out in the streets? That poor soul, she must have been worried sick.’
Dad wasn’t home either,’ Rose said. ‘He was on his way home from work. He had to stop and help. There was people killed, bodies everywhere.’ Frank hadn’t told her that, but her own imagination told her it must have been so. She had lain awake, wondering what it had been like. It would have been better if he had told her, she thought, then she wouldn’t have to keep imagining it, but she hadn’t dared ask him. Even Mum had been cross when she’d mentioned it.
‘Little girls don’t have to worry about things like that,’ she’d told her. ‘That’s why you’re going back to Bridge End. You just help Mrs Greenberry like you help me, and forget about the war.’
Rose hadn’t wanted to come back to Bridge End. She liked the Greenberrys and she’d been frightened during the raid, but she’d still rather be at home with Mum. Especially when they knew that Southampton was being bombed and heard on the news that there’d been more raids over Portsmouth.
Suppose something happened to number 14. Suppose Mum and Dad were hurt — killed even — and Rose wasn’t there to help. Suppose someone forgot to let her know. ‘Of course they won’t forget,’ Mrs Greenberry said. ‘Anyway, nothing’s going to happen to your mum and dad. Now, you stop thinking about it and go down the garden and pick us a few peas. Mr Greenberry’s brought home a nice rabbit for our supper, and you know you like rabbit.’ But rabbit wasn’t enough to stop Rose worrying. And she
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