Home Front Girls

be proud of him.’
    ‘I will that,’ Mrs P agreed with a loud sniff as she pulled herself together. This was not the time for tears, today of all days. There was plenty of time for them at night when her Fred was softly snoring at the side of her. ‘But what’s happenin’ about your old man? Any idea when he might be comin’ home yet? Oh, an’ yer can use some o’ that Spam fer the sandwiches, an’ some o’ that bloater paste an’ all,’ she added.
    ‘The Red Cross reckon he could be home within weeks,’ Miranda told her as she obediently started to fill and cut the sandwiches, pressing the slices together with the flat of her hand. ‘But I’m not sure what to expect. It can’t have been a bed of roses stuck in that prison camp.’
    ‘Happen yer right but just be grateful he is comin’ home,’ Mrs P answered and Miranda nodded, knowing that she was right. Whatever state Richard was in she would welcome him with open arms. As they carried the piled-high plates out to the trestle tables that had been draped with white sheets all down the middle of the street, Mrs P chuckled.
    ‘Why, it looks a fair treat, don’t it!’ she exclaimed delightedly, and indeed it did. Bunting had been strung from lamp post to lamp post and the Union Jack flags that had been hung from the bedroom windows were fluttering in the breeze. The tables were heaving with food and the older woman commented, ‘I reckon we’ll all starve fer at least a week after today. Rationin’s still in place whether the war’s over or not, an’ I think everyone’s emptied their pantries to make today a good spread. But who cares, eh? It’ll be worth it.’
    Further along the street, someone had dragged a piano into the road and now the sound of someone singing ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ was floating towards them.
    ‘That’ll be Ma Bennet from number sixty-three,’ Mrs P snorted. ‘She’s always fancied herself as a bit of a songbird, but she won’t never be any competition fer Vera Lynn wi’ a voice like that, will she?’
    ‘Now put your claws away,’ Miranda chuckled as she edged a wobbly jelly over to make room to slide her sandwiches onto the table. The street seemed to be full of children all shouting and laughing and snatching at the treats as they raced by the tables, but today no one corrected them. It was a day to rejoice.
    Further along the road was a table full of crates of homemade wine and ale, and most of the men seemed to be congregated there, including Fred, who had managed to escape again.
    ‘He’ll be as drunk as a lord, come teatime,’ Mrs P confided with a shake of her head. ‘They’re like bees around a honeypot – look. Never was one fer holdin’ his drink were my Fred, but then who cares if I have to put him to bed, eh?’
    It was then that Joel hobbled up to them, leaning heavily on his stick, but with a broad smile on his face.
    ‘Hello,’ he said, addressing Miranda. ‘No sign of Belle yet then?’
    ‘I’m afraid not,’ her mother responded with a grin as she watched her future son-in-law glancing up and down the street for a sight of her. ‘But rest assured if she’s said she’ll come, she will.’
    Miranda had seen a huge change in him since he had got a job in the local Royal Mail sorting office the year before. It was a job he could do sitting down and he seemed to have regained some of his confidence since going back to work. She suspected that he felt like a man again now that he could earn a living, although it was apparent that he would never walk again without the use of a stick, and she knew that there were times when the leg still caused him considerable pain. However, he never complained, which she felt was to his credit, and she had grown to be very fond of him.
    When she suddenly saw his face light up, she guessed immediately who would be the cause of it. Sure enough, she followed his gaze to see Annabelle picking her way through the people towards them, and before she could say a word, Joel was off, hobbling towards her. Miranda glanced at her watch. Dotty and Robert’s train should be in too within the hour and then they could all have a proper reunion. She just felt sad that Lucy wouldn’t be there too, for although she and Joel still wrote to each other regularly, she had never made any attempt to return home even for a visit. Miranda could understand it in a way. Lucy could never have had any sort of a life had she stayed in Coventry. There were too many bad