George scratched his chin thoughtfully. His only wish was to have a quiet hour to himself while he read his newspaper before heading into work, but his mother had started chatting as she cleaned the kitchen. ‘Cornwall’s a long way off when you’re worrying about someone, Mum. Why didn’t you have a chat with Pat while she was here visiting John?’
Ruby sighed and thought for a moment. ‘Because I didn’t get the chance, that’s why, George. With so many people coming and going, this house is like Charing Cross station at times,’ Ruby said as she sat down at the kitchen table. ‘I’ve never even got time to think some days. The one time we were alone she danced around my questions like I don’t know what and before I knew it she’d left Slades Green without even a goodbye. Didn’t even tell me how she got on with that husband of hers.’
‘Now you know that’s not true,’ George said, taking his pipe from his pocket and starting to fill it with tobacco from a leather pouch. ‘Our Pat popped her head in before she left for the train station. In fact, if you recall, I walked her there myself and carried her case. She reckoned, depending on bombing raids, it would take her nigh on a day to get back to the farm. More if the train is stopped because of air raids. Would you want to travel for that long and to a place you’ve never visited? To my knowledge you’ve never left Kent in your entire life.’
Ruby ignored her son’s jibes about her being a home bird. Why, she’d been to London a few times with Sarah and her friends to see the shows, and hadn’t she been down the Thames on the Sawyer family’s paddle steamer to the seaside at Southend? That must have been outside of Kent, surely? ‘Did Pat say anything to you about what’s eating her? You’ve got to admit she’s not the same girl who left here a couple of years back. You mark my words, George, there something not right in our Pat’s world.’
George sighed to himself. He knew his mother of old and once she had something wedged in her mind there was no talking to her. ‘She was full of how much it meant to see her John again and how she’d be pleased to get back to the farm in Cornwall to see her children.’ George didn’t let on that he agreed that his younger sister was not telling all of what was on her mind. He’d put it down to the war and how it was changing people, but he wouldn’t let on to Ruby that he was worried or she’d be like a terrier with a juicy bone. ‘I’ll put my thinking cap on, Mum, and see how we can have you chat to Pat on the telephone so you can put your mind at rest. Now, I’m going to sit out in the garden and smoke my pipe. I have some paperwork to read before I go into work.’
Ruby nodded. Her George was a hard worker and she could tell from the greyness around his eyes that the job he did was preying on his mind. Whatever his work was, she knew it was important to the war effort. No doubt once he and Irene had moved up here from Devon he’d be working even longer hours, but at least he wouldn’t have all that travelling every other week.
‘You go have your smoke while it’s quiet. I promise not to go on about our Pat.’ She grimaced as she heard someone pull the key on its string through the letter box and the front door being opened.
‘Cooee, it’s only me, Ruby, and you’ll never guess what’s happened?’ she heard Vera from up the road announce in a flustered breath.
‘You best hop it into the garden or she’ll have you involved before you know it,’ Ruby told George. She needn’t have spoken as her son had already seized his cup of tea and briefcase and was hurrying out of the back door.
‘So you see, I’m in a right two and eight, Ruby,’ Vera declared as she took the official-looking letter back from her friend.
‘I just can’t have strangers living in my home,’ she said sadly. ‘I did tell them our Sadie would be home someday and she wouldn’t take kindly to having had someone we don’t know sleeping in her bedroom. She’s particular about things like that.’
And don’t we know it, Ruby thought to herself. Not a day goes past without Vera proudly announcing another of her granddaughter’s foibles as if they were gifts from above.
‘I wondered if your George could have a word with someone in authority?’
‘I’m not sure someone who works at Vickers in engineering has any clout with the government, even if his work is valued. Did I tell you that George and Irene are moving back up this way?’ Ruby added, trying to change the subject.
Vera was having none of it. ‘Then Maisie’s David, he has an important job. It’s well known that he had a finger in finding out what had happened to Alan when his plane went down.’
‘I doubt whether the RAF can help you, Vera, even if you had the whole of the Luftwaffe sleeping in your back bedroom.’
‘But there’s no room in my Anderson shelter. What if we have another air raid? The person may get there before me and I’d be blown to kingdom come in my own garden! It’s just not right of them men in parliament to tell us to take in strangers. I could be killed in my own bed. Goodness knows who they will send to Alexandra Road,’ she wailed.
‘Your shelter’s the same size as mine and if ours can hold the family, then so can yours; not that we’ve needed to use them these past few weeks. No, I’m afraid you’re just going to have to do your bit for the war and take in some paying guests, Vera. Some people are having a worse war than we are and it’s only fair we do our bit.’ Ruby was getting annoyed with her friend. She knew that Vera was decent in so many ways, but when she got the bit between her teeth there was no letting up.
Vera was thinking. ‘Paying guests, you say? I hadn’t looked at it that way. My Sadie will just have to bunk in with me if she comes to visit and she’ll have to realize that we all have to play our part. I’ll write a few words to Mr Churchill and say I’m more than willing to help out under the circumstances and suggest he sends me a couple of genteel ladies who have fallen on hard times . . . but not so hard that they can’t pay their rent. I’m glad I thought of that,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘Well, I can’t sit here nattering all day long. Some of us have war work to do.’
That put me in my place, Ruby thought with a grin as she saw her neighbour to the front door. ‘Don’t forget we have WVS duties this afternoon. There’s fresh clothing needs sorting as well as umpteen other jobs.’
‘I’ll knock for you on my way down,’ Vera called back.
‘I’m sure you will,’ Ruby muttered to no one in particular. You don’t miss a chance to feather your own nest, Vera Munro, she thought, you never have.
Freda had no sooner stepped inside the crumbling building that was Erith fire station and climbed the rickety stairs to where the office and a staffroom were situated when she was issued with her orders for the day from the officer in charge. He was sitting at a small wooden desk set beside a large window, from which could be observed two fire tenders ready to head out whenever a call came from the concerned public. Freda took a deep breath. She could just about catch the smell of straw from when the horses, which used to pull the old tender, had their feed stored in this very loft of the old fire station building in Cross Street.
‘Now then, young Freda, there’s a pile of papers on that desk that need filing away, but first you can put the kettle on and make a nice cuppa for the shift.’
Freda nodded her head and set to with her duties. She had been with the Fire Service for one week and was becoming more concerned by the hour as to how her filing paperwork and making copious amounts of tea could help win the war. The past two years had seen rationing introduced and, along with the rest of the household, she’d more than done her bit to put food on the table that was filling and nutritious. Even visiting the cinema there were tips and recipes which Freda and her friends took home to Ruby to try out. Not all were a success, but they were eaten nonetheless as food wastage was now a criminal offence. She’d closed her ears to the jokes about young girls like her working for the Service and soldiered on despite her disappointment. She’d had hopes of doing something worthwhile, but instead was bored out of her mind and, more to the point, had cut her hours at Woolworths at a time when Betty was worried about a lack of staff. So many of the younger women who’d not joined up had gone into the factories where the pay was so much better, as were the perks. Only last week George had regaled them with news of the lunchtime concert at Vickers in Crayford, where he’d seen his favourite comedian, Tommy Trinder, perform live to the factory workers. It had certainly boosted morale. If she could have turned out a tune and looked as pretty as Maisie or Sarah, she’d have joined ENSA and spent her time entertaining the workers or even travelling overseas with a variety show to entertain the troops.
As she dreamt of singing her heart out like Vera Lynn and bringing a tear to the eye of the soldiers who were missing their loved ones, the large black Bakelite telephone started to ring. Without thinking, she reached out and picked up the heavy receiver. ‘Erith fire station, how may I help you?’
‘Now that’s a voice I haven’t heard before,’ a cheery woman said as Vera picked up a pen ready to take down any information.
‘I’m Freda, part-time auxiliary and tea girl,’ she replied before silently scolding herself. The woman might have an important job and not be impressed with what Freda had just said.
‘Not another one. We lost the last girl to the navy when she found out she wouldn’t be putting out fires. You’ve got to stick to your guns and not let the old boys leave you with the housekeeping duties. I bet you’ve got a pile of papers to tidy, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, and the kettle’s about to boil and I’ve yet to wash the cups from the last round. I reckon they leave the washing up for when I arrive.’
‘Chin up, ducks, and don’t let them get to you. You should find a stack of papers I sent to your fire station giving details of worthwhile jobs for women in the Service. I doubt the old codgers have filed them away as we both know that’s not a job they think of as men’s work. If you come across something you feel you are suited to, then telephone me. My name’s Enid Roberts.’
Freda was thrilled to think she wasn’t just being selfish and that at least one other woman had felt as she did. ‘Thank you, Enid, I’ll do just that. Thank goodness I answered the telephone when it rang.’
‘I take it they don’t let you do that often either?’ the woman laughed.
‘No, it’s far too important for the likes of me. I’m supposed to call someone to tell them it’s ringing. You’d think I’d never seen a telephone before, let alone know what to say. Why, I’m always taking important calls at Woolworths when I help the manager in her office,’ she said with a small laugh. It wouldn’t do to be moaning too much to someone she’d not met. They’d think she was a right misery guts. ‘Is there something I can help you with?’
Enid laughed. ‘That’s me all over. I chat that much I forget to convey the message. There’s a dispatch rider due to arrive at your station soon. Can you ask her to get in touch as there’s something needs collecting and brought back here.’
Freda dutifully noted down the telephone number and put a copy of it into the pocket of her skirt before bidding goodbye to Enid. A female dispatch rider, how exciting! That’s a job she’d love to try her hand at. She quickly made a tray of tea and took it outside to where uniformed firemen were busy polishing the brass on the fire engines. The vehicles that were present at fires and the aftermath of air raids in Erith and the surrounding areas gleamed in the sunshine. Freda could see her face in the bodywork. Hurrying back inside, she began sorting the pile of paperwork with renewed vigour and gave out a whoop of delight when she came across a box containing information about working in different sections of the Fire Service.
Freda slipped a few of the leaflets, aimed at women workers, into her gas mask case to read later. In a happier frame of mind, she continued with the duties that had been assigned to her for that day.
It was quiet in the yard of the fire station when, an hour later, Freda heard the powerful roar of a motorcycle. There was no one else there as all the on-duty staff were now out attending a serious fire down near the docks. She slipped out of the office and headed downstairs to where a woman, no older than herself, was removing her helmet and shaking out her jet-black shoulder-length hair. Freda marvelled that the woman still had perfectly painted red lips.
‘Hello there, I was told you were on your way. It’s only me here at the moment. Do you have time for a cup of tea? There’s a fresh supply of biscuits as well. They won’t last long once everyone gets back here.’
‘Thanks awfully, darling, a cup of cha would just about hit the spot. Lead on!’ she replied in a plummy voice.
Freda showed the woman up the stairs to the staffroom, where a kettle was bubbling away on top of a small gas stove ready for when the workers arrived back from fighting the flames. ‘I’m Freda, by the way. I’ve only been a volunteer for a couple of weeks. How long have you been riding your motorbike?’ she asked as she held out her hand.
‘Barbara Grosvenor,’ the other woman said, pumping Freda’s hand up and down with a firm grip. ‘The amount of bruises I have on my you-know-where, it feels like I’ve been riding for a year when in truth it’s just one week since I’ve been out of training school.’
Freda looked wistful. ‘I’d love to do something worthwhile. How do you become a dispatch rider?’
‘Like most things connected to this war, I filled out a form and never looked back. Thanks awfully,’ she said as Freda placed a mug of hot tea next to where she’d sat down and offered a tin of biscuits for Barbara to dip into.
‘As simple as that?’ Freda said dreamily, her imagination already placing her astride a bike with the wind in her hair as she delivered important information that would help win the war.
‘It helps if you can ride a motorbike,’ Barbara pointed out, bursting Freda’s bubble in just a couple of words.
‘Oh,’ Freda mumbled, disappointment showing all over her face. ‘That’s put paid to that idea!’
‘Don’t be so despondent. Surely you have someone who can show you how to ride one? I grew up with four brothers so I mucked in with what they did and became a bit of a tomboy. Riding a motorcycle was part of my life once my older brother built his own.’
Freda thought hard. ‘My brother, Lenny, is in the navy and only ever had a second-hand pushbike. My best friend’s husband has a motorbike, he calls it Bessie,’ she added with a grin, ‘but she’s been put away for the duration.’
‘Have a word with him. It’s not hard to learn. Just stay on and steer the machine in a straight line and bob’s your uncle, you’ll be an auxiliary dispatch rider in no time.’
Freda nodded in agreement. Barbara’s advice seemed straightforward enough. Yes, she’d do just that and the firefighters of Erith could make their own tea. She was going to follow her dream and there was no stopping her. As long as Alan agreed to show her how to ride his beloved Bessie, that was.
‘Why, it’s the first time in an age since I’ve seen the three of you here together.’ Betty smiled as she walked into the Woolworths staffroom and found Sarah, Maisie and Freda taking their break together.
‘Aint it just?’ Maisie said with grin. ‘And with Maureen behind the counter serving up decent grub it’s just like the old days when we started work together.’
‘Not quite the old days, Maisie,’ Betty replied with a hint of sadness. ‘Back then I didn’t have to think of window displays to rally support for the war and Woolworths’ own Spitfire campaign.’
Sarah glanced at Maisie. She may be cracking jokes as usual but she doesn’t fool me, she thought to herself. A bit of rouge and an extra layer of powder didn’t quite cover her pale expression and the shadows under her eyes. She wished Maisie would talk about her fears of not having a baby. What she’d mentioned the day that Vera upset her had shocked Sarah. Did Maisie mean she’d been a good-time girl? She needed to sort this out before Maisie had a breakdown or it caused a rift with her new husband, David. The last thing Maisie needed was to lose another husband.
Betty collected a cup of coffee from Maureen and joined the girls.
Sarah wrinkled her nose. ‘Ew, Camp Coffee, how can you drink that stuff?’
‘I’ve come to enjoy the taste. It makes a change from tea but, if truth be known, I’d kill for a decent cup of coffee.’
‘I’ll have a word with my friends on the docks,’ Maisie said with a wink.
Betty looked more than a little horrified, but Sarah noticed that she didn’t refuse the offer. The war had certainly changed people’s views of what was right and wrong. Goodness knows how many times she’d heard customers say that, if it didn’t hurt anyone, it was all right to have something on the black market.
‘Now, while I have you all together, I wondered if we could put some thought to our window displays? I feel it is important we continue to raise money towards the war effort without rattling collecting tins under our customers’ noses. If we could possibly make the display entertaining and raise morale, all the better. I’ve been offered the loan of a wing from a damaged Spitfire. Do you think we could make use of this for a display?’
Maisie was thinking hard. ‘P’raps we could add straw and some of our gardening tools, along with packets of seeds and stuff, to make it look like the plane came down in the countryside. We could ’ave a bucket to collect coins as well.’
‘How does that boost morale?’ Sarah asked. ‘It would upset me to see it and think Alan or his comrades may have crashed.’
‘I think it may have been the wing of a German aircraft now I come to think about it,’ Betty said, looking confused. ‘How can anyone tell the difference between all the different planes?’
‘Haven’t you seen the leaflets and posters showing their planes and ours?’ Freda asked. ‘We could have some of those in the window as well.’
‘What about that poster that shows a bombed-out German Woolies with the words underneath, “If you think we’re suffering, take a look at theirs.” It would look good alongside the wing of that German plane?’
‘This all sounds extremely positive. Thank you, girls. Please let me know if you have any other ideas. I’ll speak to all the staff about this. We need a team effort to raise funds.’
‘What about a dance?’ Freda asked.
‘What, in the shop window?’ Maisie laughed.
‘No, I mean what about asking if we can use the hall at the Prince of Wales and sell tickets? We could ask head office for some prizes and perhaps scrape enough together for a bit of a buffet.’
Betty thought for a moment then smiled. ‘I think it’s an admirable idea, Freda. Can I put the three of you in charge of organizing things?’
‘Count me in as well,’ Maureen called from behind her counter. ‘I’m not missing out on a bit of fun.’
The girls headed back to their counters full of ideas for the dance.
‘We could have spot prizes like we used to at the Woolies Christmas parties,’ Freda said.
‘But we need a dance band. Maureen may know who we can ask. She knows a lot of people and used to sing at dances when she was younger. Alan told me she would have been a professional if she’d not met her husband and settled down to family life.’
‘Lucky her,’ Maisie mumbled as they reached the door that led to the shop floor.
Sarah caught Maisie’s arm and held her back from following Freda through the door. ‘Can I have a word, Maisie?’
Maisie nodded her head. ‘I thought you’d want to after my little outburst. It is that, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, I’ve been so worried about you, Maisie,’ Sarah said as she sat on the bottom step of the stairs that led up to the office and staffroom.
Maisie squeezed onto the step next to her friend. ‘I didn’t mean to worry yer. It’s just that I can’t believe me luck being married to David and finding friends like you and Freda after everything that went on before.’ Her eyes took on a distant look. ‘What if me life went pear-shaped and I lost David and ended up on me own, all through something I did just to survive? I should ’ave told him but it was a long time ago . . .’
‘What did happen, Maisie?’ Sarah asked. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the nitty-gritty of her friend’s former life but felt it would help if she unburdened herself.
‘It was after I left home and earned a living working in bars and then at that cafe over Deptford way. The owner of the cafe forced ’imself on me one night when he’d had a few. He said that if I fought too much, he’d have me out on the street by the morning and tell folk I’d been on the game.’ She looked at Sarah beseechingly. ‘I didn’t ’ave anywhere to go. What choice did I ’ave?’
Sarah wrapped her arms around her friend as she wept silently. ‘Shh, I’d have done the same and so would many other women. Men can be such bastards,’ she exclaimed bitterly.
Maisie gasped. ‘Why, Sarah Gilbert, I’ve never ’eard you say such a word.’
Sarah smiled guiltily. ‘I don’t ever think I’ve used it word before. Can it be our secret?’
Maisie nodded. ‘But secrets can be our undoing. He chucked me out when he found I was in the family way.’
‘Oh no,’ Sarah murmured. She didn’t want to hear what happened next.
‘Yeah, I ended up on the street and with a bun in the oven. I got myself a live-in bar job pretty quick. The landlord took a fancy to me and before I knew it he was leaving his wife each night to visit my bed. I hated myself but I ’ad a plan, see.’
‘Go on,’ Sarah urged.
‘I waited fer a night when he’d had a bit too much ter drink and I nicked the takings and legged it. I ’eaded out ter Woolwich dockyard where I’d heard about a woman who helped girls like me. Mind you, I walked out of her place with me ’ead held high, determined to make a fresh start, and I never gave it another thought until recently. I met my first ’usband, Joe, not long afterwards. I reckon losing our baby last Christmas was God’s way of punishing me. I’m never going to ’ave David’s baby.’
As horrified as Sarah was by her friend’s confession, she knew that Maisie was a good person deep down. She couldn’t and wouldn’t dwell on the baby. Maisie was more than suffering for what she did and who was she to judge? ‘Please, Maisie, don’t say such things. If God does have a hand in things, he will know what you’ve been through and he’ll know you feel guilty enough for what has happened. Time to move on, eh?’
‘But, David . . . I feel I should tell him.’
‘Not now, Maisie, you’ve not been yourself for a few weeks. Get yourself strong again and then think about the future. Promise me?’
Maisie nodded slowly. ‘I will, but it’s got to be done before too long, regardless of what ’appens to me.’
‘But promise, no running away if things get bad?’
Maisie nodded her head but didn’t answer.
‘I’ve been thinking about your Pat,’ Bob said as he carried in a bag of vegetables he’d collected from the allotment he shared with the Caselton family. Ruby had been more than grateful when Bob offered to take on their gardening chores. What with Freda hardly seen these days since she started her duties at the fire station and also working as many hours as possible at Woolworths, and Maisie and Sarah no longer living at number thirteen, Ruby had been finding it hard to keep playing their part in the Dig for Victory campaign. The girls, as well as George when he had time, did give a hand, but life was so busy now the war was well into its third year.
Ruby looked into the bag that Bob had placed on the kitchen table. She would put some of the veg aside for Maureen and Maisie, she thought to herself, before moving a few items from the sink so Bob could wash his hands. ‘I’ve done nothing but think about her, Bob. I know she never said anything, but I’ve a feeling so strong that something might be wrong. What if she was planning to bring them back home? I know they say that if a bomb’s got our name on it we could die anywhere, but it’s nigh on safer down in Cornwall than it is up here.’
Bob nodded in agreement. ‘I was thinking the same as I was working on the allotment. That’s when the idea hit me.’
‘Well, cough it out. I can’t stand here chatting all day. I’ve a list as long as my arm of things to do and that’s without queuing for some fish for our tea.’
‘I was thinking you should get yourself down to Cornwall and check things out for yourself. At least then you’d have peace of mind.’
‘What? Me go all the way to Cornwall?’ Ruby scoffed before frowning at Bob. ‘I wouldn’t even know how to get there.’
‘They do have trains that go to the South West.’
‘On my own you mean? Why, I don’t even know my way to London. Anything north of Woolwich is a foreign land to me. Even when I’m with one of the girls, I’m that worried I’ll get lost and never find my way home.’
Bob looked at Ruby. He had such admiration for the woman and was surprised to see how worried she appeared and also how vulnerable. He’d always considered her to be such a strong person and the kind of woman that would stand up to whatever was thrown her way. Even Hitler didn’t stand a chance with the likes of Ruby Caselton. He was proud to know the woman and more than a little in love with her. ‘There’s no need for you to worry about travelling alone, Ruby.’
‘Ask one of the girls, do you mean? I’m not sure they would be able to spare the time to accompany an old woman on a silly whim.’
‘It’s not a silly whim, Ruby. You have concerns for a member of your family and you miss your grandchildren. There is someone who could go with you and make sure you reached your destination.’
Ruby screwed her face up as she considered who it could be. ‘I suppose I could go to Devon with George and then travel from there. It’s not so far, is it? No, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but I’m not so sure I could live under the same roof as my daughter-in-law for too long. Why, she might take me to that golf club she’s always going on about and introduce me to her posh friends. No, I couldn’t be doing with that.’
Bob laughed. ‘Oh, Ruby, you’d be a breath of fresh air to your Irene’s friends, but I agree, it’s not my cup of tea either. Besides, George and Irene’s home is still over a hundred miles from where your Pat and the kids are staying. No, I thought I’d be the right person to accompany you and make sure you reach your destination in one piece . . . and get home again,’ he added with a smile.
Ruby was pulled up short by Bob’s suggestion. She needed time to think. Picking up the used cups and saucers, she placed them in the sink and poured the remaining hot water from the kettle onto the crockery. ‘I couldn’t ask you to do that for me, Bob. Why, you are as busy as the girls, what with you ARP work and helping out down the police station. You said yourself that once a copper, always a copper, and your Mike relies on you for help with them being so short staffed. Then there’s the gardening and we mustn’t forget your work with the Home Guard. Didn’t you say there were going to be some special manoeuvres before too long?’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘Even in wartime people deserve a holiday, Ruby. You’d be safe travelling with a man and I’d never forgive myself if you or one of the girls came to harm when I’m able to accompany you,’ Bob said softly.
Ruby sat back down deep in thought as she wiped her hands on the hem of her apron. ‘It does make sense, Bob, but I’m not sure we’d get much of a holiday. I’d be down there and back in a couple of days. I only want to make sure those children are happy and give them a big hug. I miss them so much.’
Bob reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘You must do. I was the same with our Michael when he was up here in the thick of things and I was down in Margate. We always will worry about our kith and kin. It is only natural.’
‘But you was the one who was bombed out. Alexandra Road has survived so far.’
‘Do you think the Luftwaffe would dare drop explosives on Ruby Caselton?’ Bob joked, trying to lighten the mood. ‘However, you do know you’ll be gone longer than a few days? It will take that just to get yourself down to Cornwall.’
Ruby shook her head slowly. ‘I had no idea. There was me thinking I’d pop down there and see my Pat and then catch the next train home.’
‘Do you have a map?’ Bob asked. ‘If not, I have one at home you could look at.’
Ruby thought for a moment before going to the sideboard and opening one of the polished mahogany doors. ‘I thought so. I’ve still got our George’s geography books from when he was at school.’ She pulled out a shabby atlas with a broken spine and laid it in front of Bob. ‘Cornwall must be in there somewhere.’
Bob flicked through the pages until he came across a map of England. Pointing to north Kent and then to Margate, he looked up at Ruby, who was peering over his shoulder. ‘Can you see the distance between where we are now and where Margate is?’
‘It’s no more than half an inch,’ Ruby whispered. ‘Who’d have thought that? Why, it took a good couple of hours to travel to Margate when we used to go on the paddle steamer down the Thames on our days trips. Now, show me where Cornwall is.’
Bob pointed to the most western county in the country. ‘It doesn’t help that Pat is on the Lizard Peninsula, which is the southernmost point of England. It’ll take days to get there, especially if we have to travel through bombing raids and on damaged train lines. It’s a shame we can’t drive down, but with petrol almost unobtainable it’s nigh on impossible.’
‘I’d not wish to waste petrol on visiting family even if we could get hold of it, Bob. The war comes first in this household.’
Bob nodded in agreement. ‘We could get there by train. Many trains. Let me be your companion, Ruby. I’d feel a lot happier that you were in safe hands.’
‘I’ll give it some thought, Bob. Thank you for thinking of my safety. It’s a great comfort to me. Now, I need to dash off to the fishmonger and see what I can get for our tea.’ She patted Bob on the shoulder. ‘You’re a good man, Bob Jackson, and a good friend to this family.’
‘More than a friend, I hope, Ruby,’ he said as he got to his feet and reached for his overcoat. ‘I’ll wait for your answer but don’t take too long as you never know what Hitler’s got up his sleeve next.’
Bob was thoughtful as he left number thirteen. He decided to check up on travel routes and what was happening in the South West of England, as the last thing he wanted to do was to take Ruby into danger. That’s if she agreed to him being her companion. He dearly hoped she would.