Home Front Girls

I can say and pray that they are both well. And you too, of course. Perhaps when I come home we might go to see a film or something? If you are still free, that is. I don’t know when I might be able to write again but I pray that you are well and think of you often. Look after yourself.
     
Love
     
Joel
     
    Annabelle blinked – he had signed the letter Love, Joel ! The last one had ended in Kind regards . Could it be that he felt the same attraction for her as she did for him? And he had asked her if they might go to a film together. She thumped the table in frustration then. If only she could have written back to him, as he sounded very down – but of course that was impossible. He probably didn’t know where he was going to be from one day to another. But then she smiled. At least she knew now that he hadn’t forgotten about her. In a slightly happier frame of mind she put on her coat and set off.
     
    It was well after teatime when Mrs P noticed Lucy hurry past her front window on her way home. Mrs P frowned. It was unusual for the girl not to call in, but perhaps she was going to take her coat off first. The weather had certainly taken a turn for the better, which was something to be thankful for at least. Shrugging, she turned her attention back to the cardigan she was knitting for Beryl, her youngest.
    An hour later, when Lucy had still not put in an appearance, she asked Fred, ‘Pop round next door, would yer love, an’ just check that young Lucy is all right? It ain’t like her not to call in from wherever it is she disappears off to every Sunday.’
    Fred gave a long-suffering sigh as he folded the New of the World . He knew better than to argue with his Gladys nowadays. If he so much as said a wrong word he got his head bitten off.
    Without a word he let himself out of the back door and crossed the yard, avoiding banging his shoulder on the tin bath that hung outside the back door. It always upset him to see it. Sundays had always been bath night for the kids before they’d been evacuated and the house had always rung with laughter as Freddy, Barry and Beryl took it in turns to bathe in front of the fire. Then Gladys would grip each of the younger ones’ heads between her knees in turn as she went through their hair with a fine-toothed nit comb. It was funny how he missed the little things he had always taken for granted.
    Pausing at Lucy’s back door, he lifted his hand to knock, then stopped himself. He could see her through the window sitting at the table and it looked as if she was crying. He shuffled uncomfortably from foot to foot. Perhaps it was ‘women’s things’ as his missus always called them. At certain times of the month she would have a weepy time and walk about like a bear with a sore head, although now that he came to think about it, she was like that pretty much all of the time now. He hovered, wondering what to do, but then decided that he’d rather face Lucy than his Glad if he hadn’t done as she asked.
    Lucy glanced up at the first knock and he saw that his assumption was correct. She had been crying but she hastily swiped the back of her hands across her cheeks before hurrying through the kitchen to let him in.
    ‘Are you all right, love?’ he asked timidly, and to his horror she burst into tears again. Quickly placing his arm about her shaking shoulders he led her through into the kitchen and plonked her down on the chair.
    ‘Er . . . can I get you a drink o’ water or somethin’?’ He felt totally useless and didn’t know what to do.
    ‘N-no, thank you.’ Lucy gulped as he looked helplessly on. ‘I-I just had some bad news this afternoon but I’ll be fine, honestly. You get back to Mrs P.’
    ‘Well, if you’re quite sure.’ He then turned and fled.
    ‘So why ain’t she been round then?’ Mrs P demanded the second he set foot back through the door.
    ‘I ain’t got a clue, Glad,’ he answered, ‘but the lass is in a rare old state, I don’t mind tellin’ yer. Sobbin’ ’er little heart out she is, an’ you know I ain’t no good in situations like that.’
    Mrs P’s knitting needles stopped clicking as she stared at him. ‘Didn’t yer ask her what were wrong then?’
    ‘Course I did,’ he defended himself. ‘But all she’d say were that she’d had some bad news. P’rhaps it would be better if you went round.’ He secretly hoped that she would. She hadn’t gone over the doorstep since the day they’d had the telegram about