15

‘I didn’t expect our romantic night to be spent down the air-raid shelter,’ Katie said as she cuddled up to Jack.

‘I haven’t heard you complain,’ he replied as he stroked her hair. ‘I must say, my back is aching from being in this tiny bunk bed. I just hope I’m fit enough to go back on duty later tonight.’

Katie giggled. ‘The bunk is only meant for one person; perhaps we should have slept separately?’ she said, wriggling even closer to him, if that was possible.

‘I prefer it this way. Oh bugger, there’s the all clear,’ he said as they heard the wailing siren notify them that all was well and the raid was over.

She started to pull away from him. ‘I suppose we’d best go back to the house and check everything is all right.’

‘There’s no rush, is there?’

‘But there is; I’d like a bath to freshen myself up before I put on my good nightdress . . .’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ he said, giving a throaty laugh. ‘But do you honestly think you’re going to be wearing it for long?’

Katie shivered at his words. She’d expected to feel shy with Jack after they’d been apart for so long, but their first night back together had been perfect. Then tonight, even though they’d been forced to spend most of it in the shelter, had somehow made her feel even more at ease in his arms. ‘Honestly, Jack, I’m glad nobody can hear what you’re saying; you make me sound like a wanton woman. Come on, let’s make you presentable and get back to the house.’

‘After you, madam,’ he said when they’d tidied up and collected what needed to be taken back to the cottage’s kitchen.

She squealed as he chased her the length of the garden, catching her as she stopped to unlock the back door. ‘Oh, Jack, do you have to go back this evening?’ she asked, melting into his arms. ‘We’ll never be able to start a family with you away so much. If this war carries on much longer, I’ll be a childless old maid.’

‘God willing, it won’t go on that much longer. At least we have the rest of today; who knows what will happen?’

She crossed her fingers, praying that he was right, as he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.

Flora was pleased she’d held on to her large pram even after Daisy had grown out of it. With a seat fastened behind the front handle for the little girl, she would be able to take young Alexsy out in the pram and bring Daisy along too. Jennie helped her down the steps to the pavement, lifting Daisy onto the seat and fastening her reins to a clasp on either side.

‘I’m not sure how long I’ll be, as I have quite a list of shopping,’ Flora told the young girl.

‘I’m going into work later, as is Joyce,’ Jennie replied. ‘Lily will be here with Mary, so take as long as you please. At least the sun is out, and with luck there won’t be an air raid this morning.’

‘We can only pray,’ Flora replied, and, laughing as Daisy started to wave goodbye to Jennie, she set off towards Madeira Walk. She had to take the slope down to the shops with care in case the heavy pram took off without her. She peered past Daisy to check Alexsy was happy. The little lad was sleeping soundly. ‘Shall we go to the greengrocer’s first and see what he has for our dinner?’ she asked Daisy.

‘Carrots and spuds,’ the child suggested, making Flora laugh.

‘Let’s hope the butcher has something tasty to go with your carrots and spuds. Liver and onions perhaps, or sausages?’

Daisy wrinkled her nose at this suggestion.

‘Sausages it is, then, that’s if he has any. What a shame Mildred hasn’t been out fishing lately or we could have had fish for our dinner.’

‘And chips,’ the child said, clapping her hands together with glee.

‘Let’s see,’ Flora smiled. She loved her adopted daughter and couldn’t imagine life without the little girl, even though she was sad at the thought that the child’s blood relatives had all perished in the bombing when Daisy was a baby two years ago.

‘Flora,’ a masculine voice called out to her from across the road. She looked up to see Tom White waving to get her attention before hurrying over the road to join her. ‘I wondered if you’d like to join me for a cup of tea?’ he asked, staring at Daisy.

‘I’d like that, but not for long, as I have a hundred and one things to do.’

‘Is this . . .?’

‘Mary?’ she asked, shaking her head. ‘No, this is my youngest daughter, Daisy.’

Daisy gave him a shy smile before pointing into the pram where Alexsy lay. ‘Mary sleep,’ she said, putting her thumb into her mouth.

‘Everyone’s a bit tired this morning after last night’s disturbed sleep,’ Flora said. She turned to Tom. ‘I’m sorry Hitler put paid to us meeting the other day; I had no way of contacting you. A cuppa would certainly hit the spot, but perhaps not at the Lyons teashop. There’s a small cafe up the road a little where we can sit and look at the sea.’

‘Boats!’ Daisy shouted, before putting her thumb back into her mouth and staring at Tom.

‘She’s a beauty,’ Tom said as they walked slowly along the pavement, avoiding people coming the opposite way.

‘A little young for you,’ Flora said, before catching herself and apologizing.

‘Please, no apologies. I deserve all you say. How is Lily?’ he asked, out of the blue.

‘Fine,’ was all Flora would say, not wishing to add that Lily was currently living at Sea View.

Tom helped her move the pram into the cafe and parked it close to the window. ‘I’ll get these,’ he said, going up to the counter to place their order and coming back with two teas and a cup of milk. The cafe owner followed shortly after with a round of toast. ‘I hope you don’t mind; I didn’t bother with breakfast.’ He bit into the toast as Daisy held out her hand to him.

‘Please,’ she said sweetly.

‘Can she . . .?’ he asked as Flora nodded approval. He tore off a piece of toast and gave it to Daisy; she tucked in with relish. ‘How about . . .?’ he said, looking to the pram, which still had its hood raised against the sun.

‘Let sleeping babies be,’ Flora said. ‘Like I said, it was a rough night without much sleep.’ She kept her tone neutral. No matter how conciliatory Tom was being, she knew she would have to keep an eye on him; he wasn’t to be trusted.

‘I wondered if you’d spoken to Lily yet about me seeing our baby?’

‘Good grief, with everything that’s been going on I’ve not even thought about it. You’ll have to give me a little longer. I might be able to let you know in a day or two.’

‘The thing is, I’ve found a job and I’m moving away tomorrow. And my mother . . .’ He looked away, apparently unable to speak.

‘You can tell me,’ Flora said, seeing how sad he looked.

‘My mother doesn’t have long, and she would love, just once, to see her only grandchild before she passes away.’

Flora was torn. How could she let a woman go to meet her maker without seeing her only grandchild? There again, was Tom telling the truth? ‘I’ll speak to Lily and see what she has to say. That’s all I can promise.’

‘Mary,’ Daisy said, pointing to the pram as she chewed the last of her toast.

‘Yes, dear, that was Mary’s pram. Tom, I’ll do my best, but don’t expect miracles,’ she said, getting to her feet and bending to take the brake off the pram. ‘I must go, as I have a lot to do. Thank you for the tea,’ she added as she tried to get out the door with the large pram.

‘Here, let me help you,’ he said, deftly manoeuvring it out into the street. ‘Which way are you heading?’

‘Up to the greengrocer’s and then to the butcher’s,’ she said as he started to steer the pram in the direction she pointed. ‘There’s no need; I can manage from here,’ she said, but he ignored her protest until they reached the first shop. ‘Thank you,’ she said as she took over and parked close to the shop front, kicking the brake on the wheel to stop it rolling away. She unclipped Daisy from her seat and set her down on the pavement. Peering into the pram, she could see that Alexsy was sleeping contentedly. It wouldn’t be too long before he was too big for the pram and it could go back into storage; hopefully Katie would be able to make use of it before too long, Flora thought to herself. ‘Thank you so much for your help,’ she said to Tom as she started to enter the shop. ‘I could be some time,’ she added nodding towards the queue.

Daisy started to pull away, crying out ‘Mary’; Flora hushed her as one or two shoppers turned to look. She bent down to have a quiet word with the little girl. ‘You can play with Mary when we get home. It is Alexsy sleeping in the pram.’

Daisy nodded and placed her thumb into her mouth. Flora straightened up, thankful the child was not going to make a fuss.

The queue twisted around the greengrocer’s shop; Flora was glad that at least they were inside, as it was decidedly cold for April. Daisy charmed the other shoppers, while some who recognized Flora asked her questions about the fiasco of the recent gas drill exercise. She occasionally looked over her shoulder towards the window, which was shrouded with boxes and posters, and could see the pram was where she’d parked it, safe and secure along with several others left by shoppers.

‘Morning, Flora,’ the shop owner said when she reached the front of the queue.

‘Good morning, Bert; how is your Annie today? On the mend, I hope?’

‘Bearing up, thanks for asking. She’s out of bed now and managed to sit in the garden for a bit yesterday; I’m glad she wasn’t caught up in that gas attack the other day, as it would have put her back weeks. She’s always been a martyr to her bronchials.’

‘Three pounds of potatoes, a pound of carrots, and half of onions, ta. You are lucky to have a decent sized garden; we’ve done the best we can with ours but there’s no room to grow much in our small patch. That’s why I’m always in here,’ she added with a laugh.

He leant close as she tipped the potatoes into her bag and laid a piece of newspaper on top to protect the other vegetables. ‘I’ve just heard that Nobby Clarke is giving up his allotment; it’s got too much for him. His missus asked me if I knew anyone what would take it on. I hate to lose a good customer, but it would suit you down to the ground. That’s if you’ve got time to tend it?’

‘Like it? I’d jump at the chance to have an allotment to grow our own food. I’ve thought about it for a while now but not done a thing about it. Who does he rent from?’

‘No one, he owns the strip of land himself; been in his family for donkey’s years. He doesn’t want to sell the land, from what she told me, as it runs along the back of his house in King Street. A basket of veg to keep the pair of them in food each week and to keep it tidy is all he’s asking, but he wants it to go to a local who would make good use if it. Oh, and if they decide to sell up and move away, it goes without saying the allotment would be part of the sale.’

Flora’s mind started to run away with ideas of how useful it would be to have the allotment. ‘Can you tell his wife I’m interested and will be over to see them later today, air raids permitting?’

‘I’ll do better than that; I’ll knock on their door on the way home for my dinner. We close for an hour these days to give me a rest now I’ve not got anyone helping me.’

Flora had the fleeting thought that Tom was after a job, but quickly dismissed it. She couldn’t see him wanting to get his hands dirty. As faint grumbles about waiting for so long echoed through the queue behind her, she quickly gave her thanks and left the shop.

‘It looks as though Tom has gone,’ she said to Daisy as she clipped her into the pram seat.

‘Gone,’ Daisy pointed to the pram hood, which was still raised.

Flora frowned. What had happened to the primrose yellow blanket Miss Tibbs had knitted for Daisy when she first came to live as a baby at Sea View? It brightened the second-hand pram a treat. She unclipped the hood, ready to retrieve the blanket if Alexsy had kicked it to the bottom of the pram.

‘Oh my goodness, he isn’t here,’ she exclaimed, causing Daisy to start crying loudly. Trying to still her fast-beating heart, she looked around her. Nowhere could she see a man carrying a small toddler wrapped in a yellow blanket. Whatever could she do?

‘Is there something wrong?’ a woman in the long queue asked as heads turned to stare.

‘The baby, he’s been taken,’ Flora said, starting to feel faint. She grabbed the handle of the pram as Daisy continued to howl.

Soon, women had congregated around Flora asking questions. Did she have any idea who took him? How long had he been left? Why would anyone do such a thing? Were their own children safe . . .? A flurry of women checked their own babies, who were all sleeping peacefully in their prams.

Flora’s head started to spin as she answered as many of them as possible. ‘Please, we need to find him,’ she begged.

The greengrocer joined them, closing the door to his shop behind him. He was carrying a chair for Flora. ‘I’ve rung the police on the shop telephone and they’re on their way. Now, sit yourself down, Mrs Neville; you look fit to drop. Ladies, if you would care to come back in, say, half an hour, it would give Mrs Neville here time to compose herself and speak to the police. Is there anyone who would like to help look for the child?’

‘I think I know who took him.’ Flora gave them the best description of Tom White she could manage, and added that Alexsy had been wrapped in the primrose yellow knitted blanket.

Two younger women offered to look for the baby and were instructed to be back in fifteen minutes if they’d seen nothing in the surrounding streets.

‘He can’t have got far,’ said the greengrocer, who had taken charge.

‘Whose baby is it?’ asked a woman Flora vaguely recognized from her Women’s Institute meetings.

‘He’s the son of my lodger, Anya Polinski,’ Flora said, thinking miserably of how she’d let her friend down by not taking care of her little boy.

‘That poor woman whose husband is missing in action?’ another neighbour asked.

‘God forbid,’ several people muttered.

‘Perhaps she passed by and took him out of the pram?’ the greengrocer suggested.

‘No, she’s in London, doing some training for Lyons. She left him in my care,’ Flora explained, her voice cracking as she started to sob. ‘Why has that hateful man taken him?’

‘Now, now; tears aren’t going to help, are they?’ the greengrocer said, patting her shoulder and looking uncomfortable.

‘You are right,’ Flora said, wiping her eyes and pulling herself together.

‘Can we get your Rose to come and help you?’ the lady from the WI asked. ‘I’m sure we could use your telephone to contact her,’ she added, turning to the shop owner.

‘It’s no use; she has gone to meet her husband. He’s on twenty-four hours’ leave. If you could contact Joyce Hannigan at the Lyons teashop in Margate, she will be able to help me,’ Flora suggested, knowing Joyce had a sensible head on her shoulders and would be good in a crisis.

‘I’ll do that right now,’ the greengrocer said. ‘Look: here comes a policeman.’ He pointed to where the local bobby was cycling towards them.

Flora breathed a sigh of relief as the police officer parked his bicycle at the kerb.

‘Would we be able to speak inside your shop?’ he asked the greengrocer, nodding towards the growing crowd.

‘By all means; let’s use my back room, then my wife can come out and serve these ladies,’ the greengrocer said, holding the door open to assist them through. ‘You can bring the pram as well,’ he added to Flora, who was dithering over what to do.

‘Please do; it will be part of the evidence,’ the constable told her as he took over holding the door for Flora to enter.

Flora faltered. ‘Evidence? Surely we should all be out looking for Tom White, as he is the person who took the baby?’

The constable looked confused. ‘You can’t go throwing allegations all over the place; it may offend the person you are accusing,’ he tutted.

‘I’m not throwing allegations anywhere. I have reason to know he has taken Alexsy Polinski, thinking the child is Lily Douglas’s daughter, Mary.’

‘Why would he do such a thing?’ the constable asked as he pulled out his notebook.

The greengrocer’s wife stopped tying her apron to listen to their conversation.

Flora stopped speaking.

‘This way,’ the greengrocer said as he ushered her through to a back room that formed part of his family’s living accommodation.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, nodding to Flora and the constable.

‘Thank you for being so kind. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance.’

The greengrocer shook his head. ‘I’m partly to blame. If I’d not kept you talking about that allotment, the child might not have been taken.’

Flora managed a weak smile to reassure him. ‘Tom wouldn’t have been slow to grasp the opportunity to take the child . . .’

‘Now, Mrs Neville, shall we start at the beginning?’

The beginning? Flora thought to herself. All she could think of was what an idiot she’d been, leaving little Alexsy outside for Tom White to snatch.