mother didn’t seem to notice and just pushed on as fast as she could walk. They were walking up a long, tree-lined, street when a lorry went past them and then stopped a few yards ahead. There were a lot of soldiers in the back and they started calling out to them.
‘Come on!’ they shouted, ‘jump in, we will give you a lift, can’t have a good looker like you wandering the streets this time of the morning,’ and so on. Her mother looked terrified. She made an excuse about the pushchair but that was no problem and two soldiers jumped down and lifted pushchair, the girl and her unseen brother into the back of the lorry. There was nothing for it and the mother climbed on the back of the lorry and sat in the space the soldiers had made for her. She grasped the handle of the pushchair and looked at herdaughter with a combination of utter terror and direct threat to keep silent. Looking back, she realised that her mother must have been thinking about these soldiers and worrying about whether they knew her husband. Suppose they talked to him and told him the story? Really, it was totally stupid. When you think how many soldiers were fighting the war it was unbelievable that these men would somehow come across her husband, but she was young and naïve and thought that all the soldiers knew each other! She got more and more agitated with each minute that passed and looked as though she was going to cry.
They didn’t stay on the lorry for long. Her mother suddenly said this was where they were going and the soldiers helped them off again. They shot off in the opposite direction, round the first corner, and stopped. After a couple of minutes her mother looked back round the corner and, seeing nothing, they set off on their way again. Eventually they reached some gates, which she now realised belonged to the cemetery. They were closed, I suppose they weren’t unlocked until 8 o’clock or something. They stood in a doorway up the road until the gates were unlocked and when the keeper had walked away they went in. Her mother pushed her somewhere far from the gates to where there were some trees. She parked her daughter under the trees looking down one of the roadways and said she should watch to see if anybody came. Then her mother disappeared into the trees, urgently digging down into her shopping bag. After some while she came back, pulled out the blankets, took the bundle and disappeared again. After a bit longer she came back again, obviously crying, tucked her daughter into the pushchair and they retraced their steps back home, this time rather more slowly.
Her baby brother was never mentioned again. She had kept the secret until today, talking to a total stranger on top of a bus. She could only wonder at the terror of her poor young mother trying to work out what to do with this unwanted unwelcome baby and the desperation of that journey to the cemetery. But she could never stop wondering about that baby’s cry in the night.
5
Standard of Living
(1920â8)
I do get fed up with all these scientists who find out that this or that food is bad for you. Every type of food seems to take turns at being bad for you â nowadays coffee is one of the big villains but when I was at school it was tea, and I once won a prize for an essay about the dangers and evils of tea drinking. The teacher gave us a lesson about it, full of warnings about the tannin and how it attacked the lining of your stomach, and goodness knows what else, and then everybody in the class had to write an essay for the competition. It was for all the schools in London. As far as I can remember it wasnât the first prize that I won, but it was something.
Mind you, tea in those days was always terribly stewed and I dread to think what was in it by the time you drank it. You see, tea was expensive so it never got wasted. Instead, when tea was made the teapot was put onto the hot plate and just kept going with more tea and water all day so that when
‘Come on!’ they shouted, ‘jump in, we will give you a lift, can’t have a good looker like you wandering the streets this time of the morning,’ and so on. Her mother looked terrified. She made an excuse about the pushchair but that was no problem and two soldiers jumped down and lifted pushchair, the girl and her unseen brother into the back of the lorry. There was nothing for it and the mother climbed on the back of the lorry and sat in the space the soldiers had made for her. She grasped the handle of the pushchair and looked at herdaughter with a combination of utter terror and direct threat to keep silent. Looking back, she realised that her mother must have been thinking about these soldiers and worrying about whether they knew her husband. Suppose they talked to him and told him the story? Really, it was totally stupid. When you think how many soldiers were fighting the war it was unbelievable that these men would somehow come across her husband, but she was young and naïve and thought that all the soldiers knew each other! She got more and more agitated with each minute that passed and looked as though she was going to cry.
They didn’t stay on the lorry for long. Her mother suddenly said this was where they were going and the soldiers helped them off again. They shot off in the opposite direction, round the first corner, and stopped. After a couple of minutes her mother looked back round the corner and, seeing nothing, they set off on their way again. Eventually they reached some gates, which she now realised belonged to the cemetery. They were closed, I suppose they weren’t unlocked until 8 o’clock or something. They stood in a doorway up the road until the gates were unlocked and when the keeper had walked away they went in. Her mother pushed her somewhere far from the gates to where there were some trees. She parked her daughter under the trees looking down one of the roadways and said she should watch to see if anybody came. Then her mother disappeared into the trees, urgently digging down into her shopping bag. After some while she came back, pulled out the blankets, took the bundle and disappeared again. After a bit longer she came back again, obviously crying, tucked her daughter into the pushchair and they retraced their steps back home, this time rather more slowly.
Her baby brother was never mentioned again. She had kept the secret until today, talking to a total stranger on top of a bus. She could only wonder at the terror of her poor young mother trying to work out what to do with this unwanted unwelcome baby and the desperation of that journey to the cemetery. But she could never stop wondering about that baby’s cry in the night.
5
Standard of Living
(1920â8)
I do get fed up with all these scientists who find out that this or that food is bad for you. Every type of food seems to take turns at being bad for you â nowadays coffee is one of the big villains but when I was at school it was tea, and I once won a prize for an essay about the dangers and evils of tea drinking. The teacher gave us a lesson about it, full of warnings about the tannin and how it attacked the lining of your stomach, and goodness knows what else, and then everybody in the class had to write an essay for the competition. It was for all the schools in London. As far as I can remember it wasnât the first prize that I won, but it was something.
Mind you, tea in those days was always terribly stewed and I dread to think what was in it by the time you drank it. You see, tea was expensive so it never got wasted. Instead, when tea was made the teapot was put onto the hot plate and just kept going with more tea and water all day so that when
Similar Books
The Duke's Temptation
Addie Jo Ryleigh
The Orphans (Book 3): Strangers
Mike Evans
Catching Falling Stars
Karen McCombie
Survival Games
J.E. Taylor
Battle Fatigue
Mark Kurlansky
Now I See You
Nicole C. Kear
The Whipping Boy
Speer Morgan
Rippled
Erin Lark
The Story of Us
Deb Caletti