War Babies by Annie Murray Page A

course she
would go with him. Nothing could stop her!
    ‘Yes. All right,’ she said.
    Without discussing it they headed out to Digbeth, the main road to town. It had been a very hot day and the sun was now sinking low, burnishing all the soot-blackened buildings with copper
light. They passed the Digbeth Institute and the old pub. The street was noisy with trams, trucks and carts and they did not talk. She was just aware of him beside her, fractionally in front, hands
in his pockets. He often kept his hands in his pockets, especially his right hand, as if he had hold of something. He had grown fast and was almost a head taller than her now. His head tilted
forward slightly as he walked. She looked down at her black lace-up shoes. They might have been practical for standing a lot of the day but they were ugly so-and-sos. But she did not think Danny
was paying any attention to her shoes.
    Danny had come to find her! That was all she could think. With him beside her, every part of her body felt more awake and alert. He kept swimming in and out of her mind. Sometimes Danny was all
she was aware of, the fall of his feet in his big boots, the angle of his thin shoulders, the line of brown hair along his neck beneath his cap, the brown mole just below his left earlobe. While
caught up in him she was oblivious to anything else. A moment later the sounds and smells would burst in on her.
    The Bullring was busy as ever, all its sights and smells rich to the senses. People milled around the stalls looking for late-in-the-day bargains. A thin fountain of sparks dropped from a
knife-grinder’s stone. Amid the cries of the fruit and veg vendors echoing along Spiceal Street, she became aware of a deep, ponderous voice raised in song. Glancing back she spotted the man
in front of the statue of Nelson, arms held out, his mouth a black, moving shape in his face:
    ‘That day of wrath, that dreadful day,
    When heaven and earth shall pass away,
    What power shall be the sinner’s stay?
    How shall he meet that dreadful day?’
    They passed further away so that she could no longer make out the words.
    ‘There’s going to be a war,’ Danny said.
    ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘People say so. I don’t know.’
    ‘I wish I could go,’ he said fiercely.
    Startled, she turned to him. ‘Why? You’re too young.’
    ‘I know. I
know
.’ He sounded frustrated. He stopped and looked around as if wishing he hadn’t spoken. ‘Let’s get some grub. I’m starving.’
    ‘I’ve got no pay yet,’ she pointed out. ‘I’ve got enough for a few chips.’
    Danny gallantly paid for both of them. They carried their newspaper-wrapped bundles, went back down towards the church and found a place to settle close to the church wall. The man seemed to
have stopped singing for the moment. Rachel peeled off the outer layer of newspaper before the grease could seep through and laid it on the ground to sit on.
    ‘We can both squeeze on there,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to dirty my skirt.’
    They sat very close together, their bent thighs just touching. Rachel pulled her navy work skirt carefully over her knees, but even so they received some disapproving looks from passers-by. As
she opened the packet of fish and chips her mouth began to water and she realized she was very hungry. Danny wolfed his down as well.
    ‘Nice,’ he said, in between mouthfuls.
    ‘Yeah. Lovely. Ta,’ she said. ‘That was nice of you.’
    Danny turned his head slightly. ‘S’all right. I’m getting wages now.’
    ‘So’m I. Or I will be when I get paid anyway.’ There was a pause, then she said, ‘Have you found your sisters?’ She did not really think they could have done or
Gladys would surely have told her.
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘She’s trying to find out – Auntie, I mean. She’s been round a few places in Birmingham, but no one seems to know.’
    He sank into silence again, tapping his feet. He was forever on the move, like something wound