Home Front Girls

to Lucy and Mary if he was killed? He and Annabelle both fell silent then as the bus trundled on through the darkened streets.
    Once back at home, Joel headed for the kitchen where he had a rabbit stew simmering in the oven. Mrs P was sitting at the side of the fire with Mary on her lap.
    ‘Poor little lamb,’ she said. ‘Proper under the weather so she is, but then it’s hardly suprisin’, is it, wi’ the weather as it is? That’s why I told Joel I’d come round here to watch ’er till yer got back. Saves takin’ her out in the cold, don’t it? But now as you are back I’ll be off. My Fred’ll be shoutin’ fer his dinner soon.’ She stood up and handed Mary to Lucy, then with a friendly nod in Annabelle’s direction, she headed for the door.
    Whilst Lucy got Mary undressed in front of the fire, Annabelle asked, ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
    ‘No, thanks, but you could stay and keep me company while I dish this up,’ he responded as he lifted some plates down from the dresser.
    ‘It must be a comfort to you to know that Lucy has Mrs P next door,’ Annabelle said. ‘She’s lovely, isn’t she?’
    ‘She is that,’ he agreed. ‘Salt of the earth, is our Mrs P. But I do worry about how Lucy will cope when Mary is evacuated. You’ve probably noticed that she adores her, and there are only a few weeks to go now.’
    ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep my eye on her for you,’ Annabelle promised and was shocked to hear herself say it. Since when had she worried about anyone but herself? She was even more shocked to realise that she meant it. ‘You just worry about keeping yourself safe,’ she went on, and again she could hardly believe that she had said it. She might just as well have come right out and said that she cared about him.
    Joel paused to stare at her and their eyes locked, but then Lucy broke the spell when she asked, ‘So how is this dinner coming along? I’m starving and I’m sure you must be hungry too, Annabelle. We didn’t get to have much of a break at lunch-time, did we?’
    They all carried their plates to the table, and once they had eaten Annabelle helped Joel with the pots while Lucy put Mary to bed.
    Crikey, I really am getting domesticated, Annabelle thought as she dried the dishes, yet strangely she didn’t mind so long as it meant being with Joel.
    ‘Will you be able to write to Lucy from wherever you’re posted to?’ she asked.
    He nodded. ‘I dare say so, though the letters will be heavily censored, and of course there’s no saying how long they’ll take to get through.’ Then shyly, ‘If you were to give me your address I could write to you too, if you like.’
    ‘I would like that.’ Annabelle smiled at him and they finished the rest of the washing and drying up in a harmonious silence, content just to be in each other’s company.
    Later that evening, Joel walked her to the bus stop and they stood facing each other awkwardly as they waited for the bus to come.
    ‘Take care of yourself then,’ Annabelle said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.
    They heard the bus coming along the road, and leaning forward, he suddenly self-consciously pecked her on the cheek. ‘You too,’ he muttered, and then he was striding away with his hands tucked deep in his pockets.
     
    On 8 January 1940, for the first time since 1918, ration books were introduced. Butter, sugar, tea, bacon and all the food that had previously been taken for granted were suddenly very precious. Then to make things even worse, as the month progressed the weather conditions worsened, and on 17 January the River Thames froze over – something that had last happened in 1888.
    ‘Brrr, it’s enough to make yer want to stay in bed,’ Mrs P shivered one evening when Lucy arrived after work to collect Mary. Thankfully, the child’s cough had improved but she still wasn’t completely better and Lucy hated leaving her, especially as the time for her to be evacuated drew closer. Mrs P’s Anderson shelter was now completed and she had spent a lot of time making it as comfortable as she could – just in case it was needed, as she pointed out. Fred had built bunk-beds along one wall from pallets that he had collected from the market, and Mrs P had dragged two thin mattresses in there along with a selection of old bedding that she had stored over the years. There was also an old easy chair and candles so that they would not have to sit in the dark.
    ‘If the sirens should