Doodlebug Summer by Alison Prince

Author:Alison Prince
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: A&C Black
Published: 2006-12-26T16:00:00+00:00

5

Terror

I’m letting the train window down on its leather strap, leaning out to look for Pauline as we come into her station. We get in the No Smoking compartment at the end of the third carriage if we can – all the others are Smoking, and they’re really stinky. But this morning I only just caught the train, and I’m not so far along.

There she is, she’s seen me, she’s running along the platform. The guard’s blowing his whistle, but I’ve got the door open for her. She’s scrambling in, flopping down with her satchel and a pie dish because she made apple crumble in Domestic Science yesterday. They have to bring their own margarine and sugar because it’s on ration, but there are lots of apples at the moment, so the school provides those. The DS people get to take their stuff home to eat, lucky things. I’m in the Latin group, so I don’t do practical things like cooking.

Pauline must have been late like me this morning, she’s out of breath and her face is bright pink. She’s got orange freckles, so it looks totally hectic. Her school beret has come off as usual. She wears it skewered to her red hair with a hatpin, flat as a navy-blue pancake, but it falls off when she runs. Her mac is unbuttoned and her tie is all over the place – she’s always getting into trouble for being untidy, but she doesn’t care. She’s not much bothered about school really. She’s so busy at home, with the little ones to look after, it’s a wonder she turns up at all, but she always does.

‘My gran’s ill,’ she says. ‘Someone came to tell Mum this morning. I said I’d go and see her after school – will you come? She likes a bit of company, it cheers her up.’

‘As long as it’s not for too long,’ I say. ‘I don’t want Mum to worry.’

‘No, we’ll just pop in. She lives near Elmer’s End station. We can get off the train there, do a quick visit and be back in time for the next one.’

‘OK.’

I get the later train if there’s something after school like choir rehearsal, or if I miss the one that goes at ten-past four. Mum won’t panic if I’m only half an hour late.

‘What’s the matter with your gran?’ I ask.

‘It’s her chest,’ says Pauline.

I nod, trying to look as if I understand – but trouble with your chest can be anything from a bit of a cold to pneumonia. Pauline’s gran has always wheezed, but I thought it was just the smoking. She loves her cigarettes.

Pauline’s gran is in bed in the small downstairs room, wheezing and coughing. She got the bed moved down when the raids started, and it’s crammed in between the other furniture. She never throws anything away, and every surface is crowded with clothes, ornaments, rugs, shawls, books, old photographs and dirty teacups. The fire is out and the cold hearth is a mess of ash and cinders.

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