Joan, Ross and Derek were trundling the handcart along the promenade. It was a perfect June day, and they were not collecting with much conviction. It was more of a routine now, clocking up the required hours of youth service to keep the ladies down at the WVS depot happy.
Ross’s dad had been sent to North Africa to fight against the German army in the Western Desert, commanded by General Rommel.
“We don’t hear from him that often,” Ross told them. “Got a letter the other day, though. It’d been through the censor, of course, so lots of stuff had been blanked out. Most of what was left was going on about how hot it was, and how water’s strictly rationed, and how the sand and flies get into everything, especially the food.”
“Better than freezing to death, I s’pose,” said Derek philosophically. The headlines that week were full of news that Germany had invaded Russia. “They say we’re signing a treaty with Stalin. He’s quite something! Got a much better moustache than Hitler, and all.”
Joan found it difficult to envisage the world-war conflict in such simplistic terms. All she felt like doing was enjoying the comparative calm that had settled at home, with Audrey recovering from her injuries and everyone so happy that Dai was not dead after all.
He had been given extended leave, and was now working in the company offices in Liverpool. They knew he would be sent back to sea soon, but for the moment, he and Audrey were seeing a lot of each other, dating and dancing, and blissfully happy in each other’s company. Best of all, the ferocity of the Liverpool Blitz seemed to be abating, with no raids as severe as on that terrible night in May.
Joan knew that Mum missed the Russell family as much as she did. But they were planning a get-together − a foursome in Liverpool with Mrs Russell and Doreen − as soon as it seemed safe enough to go there. They might even meet for a slap-up tea at the Adelphi Hotel – a far cry from the Bluebell Cafe!
The days when the Armitage family had to endure Ronnie Harper Jones’s braying laugh and boring conversation in their front room seemed quite long past now. Mum had not mentioned him since that humiliating confrontation with his wife, which only Joan had witnessed. It was best forgotten.
And now, this Saturday morning, when Joan returned from her salvage collecting, she heard Mum laughing in the kitchen. It had been a long time since she had heard her laugh like that. Brian, who was supposed to be helping to get their midday dinner, was fooling around as usual, imitating Vera Lynn in his own version of her hit song:
“There’ll always be an England!
But living here’s a pain.
We’re all so sick of rationing
It’s driving us insane!
No sweets and no bananas,
No coffee and no beer,
And if we ask for fish and chips
They say ‘We’ve got none ’ere!’”
Judy was dancing around and joining in. “Got none, got none, got none ’ERE!”
Joan’s family were not demonstrative on the whole. Mostly they preferred their affection for one another to remain unexpressed. But today Joan threw down her things, marched into the kitchen, and gave them each a hug.
“What’s this for, then?” asked Brian.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Joan. “Just so glad we’re all still around, I guess. But, hey, what’s for dinner? I’m starving!”