Derek, Joan and Doreen met in a shelter on the prom a day or two later to discuss the whole awful business of Lukasz Topolski’s arrest. Doreen knew the most about it because she had overheard some urgent phone calls her father had been making on Lukasz’s behalf.
“He’s been taken into custody and is awaiting trial, somewhere on the other side of Liverpool,” she told them. “He’s facing a court martial – that’s a sort of military trial – for desertion. And if he’s convicted, which is pretty certain, he’ll have to serve time in a military prison.”
Joan could hardly bear to think about this, knowing what it would do to Ania.
Joan and Doreen had tried calling at Miss Mellor’s house in the hope of seeing her, but they were met with a stony response. Miss Mellor had opened the front door a crack, but had resolutely refused to let them have any conversation with Ania. Once they had glimpsed Ania lurking in the hall, but they were not invited in. When she came back to school, Ania was white-faced, turned in on herself, and totally uncommunicative. Even Ross and Derek, who did not usually take much interest in Ania, were despondent.
“Wouldn’t much like to be her,” said Derek, lighting up and puffing out three perfect smoke rings. “Don’t give much for her chances if her uncle’s in that sort of trouble.”
Joan felt uncomfortable. She knew that her own situation was rather different, because Ronnie Harper Jones had intervened on Mum’s behalf and somehow got her involvement in this whole affair kept quiet. Otherwise, Mum might have had to face charges too, for not reporting Lukasz as a deserter to the Military Police and for arranging that fatal meeting at their house.
So, now we’re really beholden to Ronnie, Joan thought gloomily. He’ll be popping by to see Mum all the time, and we’ll have to keep on being nice to him.
The nightly Blitz continued relentlessly, and the weather turned bitterly cold. To Joan, life seemed to have become one dreary round of school, homework, ration queues and long, blacked-out evenings.
There was a brief spell of happiness for Audrey, at last, when Dai turned up on an unexpected week’s leave. Security was very tight, and it was an unwritten law that nobody ever enquired where the next voyage would take him when his ship had been refitted. “Careless Talk Costs Lives!” the posters warned.
Mum put her foot down about letting them go dancing in Liverpool in case the bombing started early. But they were too blissfully happy in one another’s company to mind much. The local cinemas remained open, and Mum tactfully made the front room available to them, even going to the lengths of lighting a fire in there in the evenings, as well as in the back room – an unheard-of luxury.
But, as always, Dai’s leave was over all too soon. After yet another heartbreaking goodbye, Dai returned to his ship and the perils of the cruel, U-boat-infested North Atlantic.
Joan’s family struggled to return to normal. The freezing fog that rolled in up the estuary in the early mornings was slow to clear, and the house was almost as cold indoors as it was outside. Mum looked into the coal cellar, where supplies were running very low.
“I just don’t know when we’re going to get hold of another delivery,” she said. “I keep ringing Mr Williams the coal merchant, but he just says he can’t keep up with the demand in the run-up to Christmas.”
They all wore their overcoats indoors as well as out and crouched shivering over a tiny fire in the back room in the evenings.
“Some of the boys at school told me that there’s a lot of driftwood lying about on the sand hills near the old windmill,” said Brian. “I could go there on Saturday and bring some back on my bicycle, and we could dry it out for firewood. It’s not much, but it’ll save a bit of coal.”
“I’ll come,” said Joan, glad to get out of having to collect salvage.
Early the following Saturday
“He’s been taken into custody and is awaiting trial, somewhere on the other side of Liverpool,” she told them. “He’s facing a court martial – that’s a sort of military trial – for desertion. And if he’s convicted, which is pretty certain, he’ll have to serve time in a military prison.”
Joan could hardly bear to think about this, knowing what it would do to Ania.
Joan and Doreen had tried calling at Miss Mellor’s house in the hope of seeing her, but they were met with a stony response. Miss Mellor had opened the front door a crack, but had resolutely refused to let them have any conversation with Ania. Once they had glimpsed Ania lurking in the hall, but they were not invited in. When she came back to school, Ania was white-faced, turned in on herself, and totally uncommunicative. Even Ross and Derek, who did not usually take much interest in Ania, were despondent.
“Wouldn’t much like to be her,” said Derek, lighting up and puffing out three perfect smoke rings. “Don’t give much for her chances if her uncle’s in that sort of trouble.”
Joan felt uncomfortable. She knew that her own situation was rather different, because Ronnie Harper Jones had intervened on Mum’s behalf and somehow got her involvement in this whole affair kept quiet. Otherwise, Mum might have had to face charges too, for not reporting Lukasz as a deserter to the Military Police and for arranging that fatal meeting at their house.
So, now we’re really beholden to Ronnie, Joan thought gloomily. He’ll be popping by to see Mum all the time, and we’ll have to keep on being nice to him.
The nightly Blitz continued relentlessly, and the weather turned bitterly cold. To Joan, life seemed to have become one dreary round of school, homework, ration queues and long, blacked-out evenings.
There was a brief spell of happiness for Audrey, at last, when Dai turned up on an unexpected week’s leave. Security was very tight, and it was an unwritten law that nobody ever enquired where the next voyage would take him when his ship had been refitted. “Careless Talk Costs Lives!” the posters warned.
Mum put her foot down about letting them go dancing in Liverpool in case the bombing started early. But they were too blissfully happy in one another’s company to mind much. The local cinemas remained open, and Mum tactfully made the front room available to them, even going to the lengths of lighting a fire in there in the evenings, as well as in the back room – an unheard-of luxury.
But, as always, Dai’s leave was over all too soon. After yet another heartbreaking goodbye, Dai returned to his ship and the perils of the cruel, U-boat-infested North Atlantic.
Joan’s family struggled to return to normal. The freezing fog that rolled in up the estuary in the early mornings was slow to clear, and the house was almost as cold indoors as it was outside. Mum looked into the coal cellar, where supplies were running very low.
“I just don’t know when we’re going to get hold of another delivery,” she said. “I keep ringing Mr Williams the coal merchant, but he just says he can’t keep up with the demand in the run-up to Christmas.”
They all wore their overcoats indoors as well as out and crouched shivering over a tiny fire in the back room in the evenings.
“Some of the boys at school told me that there’s a lot of driftwood lying about on the sand hills near the old windmill,” said Brian. “I could go there on Saturday and bring some back on my bicycle, and we could dry it out for firewood. It’s not much, but it’ll save a bit of coal.”
“I’ll come,” said Joan, glad to get out of having to collect salvage.
Early the following Saturday
Similar Books
