The Girl Who Disappeared by James Lingard

Author:James Lingard [James Lingard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781913136772
Publisher: Clink Street Publishing
Published: 2019-07-14T16:00:00+00:00

Hebden Bridge saw little of the war; occasionally the sirens sounded but enemy bombers sought more worthwhile targets in neighbouring towns. The evacuees climbed the steep hill to James’ house and Emily received something of a heroine’s welcome. However, she and Richard were to sleep in the attic and the stairs to that were steep and narrow.

The attic filled the roof space of the terraced house with stairs giving access in the centre of the room. Two rugs partially covered the bare floor boards and the furnishings were limited to a single bed and wooden chair under the sloping eaves on each side. At least it felt dry but, once the sun went down, the lack of any heating made it cold and uncomfortable. Ada urged Emily to check that she had enough blankets.

Emily, as a privileged guest, was ushered into the front room with its brown three piece suite, radio and piano. James enquired politely: ‘Can you play the piano?’ ‘Oh yes,’ she replied, ‘but the music by Handel which is open is too difficult for me to play unrehearsed.’

‘We don’t mind; play something you know,’ James told her. She did; a piece of Boogie-Woogie learned in the United States and played fast and competently. To Emily, this music signalled her defiance. Grimly determined to start as she meant to continue, she made the decision to show her independence and not demean herself to grandfather’s puritanical regime.

Ada gave them tea, comprising home-made bread and jam and a cup of tea for the adults, milk for Richard. Milk delivered in churns direct from the local farms seemed to be plentiful in the area throughout the war. After tea, Emily expressed herself to be exhausted and suggested a bath then bed.

‘Sorry, there is no hot water for a bath. There will be in the morning,’ Ada instructed firmly. Emily thought: ‘Life in Yorkshire seems clearly more primitive than in Petts Wood or Bournemouth’, but at least she and Richard were safe, weren’t they?

‘Do you have an air-raid shelter?’ she enquired as she turned to go upstairs. They showed her the door to the cellar.

That night Emily lay tossing and turning unable to sleep on the hard uncomfortable bed in the freezing attic. Her son snored contentedly but that did not help. She realized that in this household grandfather ruled and she needed to live her own life free from his control; she had married and deeply loved Walter, not his dictatorial father.

Next morning, she came downstairs to find that James had already gone to work an hour earlier and the breakfast things were being cleared away. Richard slipped on the top step and fell head over heels in a double somersault to end sitting yelling on the bottom step.

Ada slapped him hard across the face and, to his mother’s astonishment, told the child: ’Think of the neighbours and stop making that terrible noise.’ Emily reflected bitterly that this consideration for others did not apply when James daily practiced his tenor solos and Annie her scales.

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