From its first page,Peter Panby J.M. Barrie had the group spellbound. As Joyce read the author’s vivid descriptions of the boy who never grew up, of Caption Hook and his pirates and the Lost Boys, of mermaids and crocodiles and the magical world of Neverland, she saw their bodies still and their imaginations fire up. She couldn’t physically remove them from the hell they found themselves in, but she could whisk them away through the pages of a book. These children’s childhoods were being eroded in the most devastating way. They deserved escape, fantasy, joy, and more than a little sprinkle of pixie dust.
She read and read, until her voice was hoarse and her bum went numb.
She read because she knew in that moment she was holding back the war for these children.
There were moments of pure joy for the girls.
‘Wendy, one girl is more use than twenty boys,’ caused an eruption amongst the girls, including one little red-head who jumped to her feet, with a triumphant whoop. ‘Told you so, Davey Bassington!’
And the boys’ delight in Peter Pan’s assertion that little boys should never be sent to bed prompted triumphant whoops. Bythe time the ticking crocodile slithered onto the scene, even Jean Farley’s grizzling toddler son had quietened and was listening, eyes wide, mouth open.
Eventually, four p.m. rolled around, and when the blackout blinds started going up at the window, Joyce reluctantly admitted defeat and closed the book. Still, the coaches hadn’t arrived to transport everyone to safety.
‘I’m sorry to end here, children, but I have lots more books you can borrow. Feel free to come up and choose one from our library van.’
Like the Pied Piper, Adela led a stream of excited children out to the library van.
Jean smiled when she spotted Joyce and wove her way through the crowd towards her. Her cheeks were waxy from exhaustion and her blouse soaked with sweat.
‘I can’t believe you came back! Mind you,’ she said, gesturing to her toddler, clinging to her skirt. ‘I’m awful glad you did.’
Jean jigged the baby at her shoulder with one hand and scrubbed her baggy eyes with the other. ‘This is...’ She looked around the rest centre as darkness fell. ‘It’s hell is what it is. I can’t stick it much longer!’
‘Surely they won’t let you spend another night here?’ Joyce exclaimed. ‘The coaches have to be on their way.’
‘Oh, they’ve been saying that for what feels like days now.’
A silence fell between them.
She felt a breath on her neck, the scent of Woodbines. She knew before she turned.
‘Harry,’ she breathed. ‘How long’ve you been here?’
‘About twenty minutes,’ he grinned. ‘Did you choose that because you knew it was my favourite book growing up?’
Had she?
‘How was your night?’ she asked, taking in the dust that seemed etched into his skin and the dark circles under his eyes.
‘Still going. I don’t know if I’m on my head or my heels. After I dropped you last night, I managed to make it to the council offices and warned them about this place, then I got called out to a heavy lifting job in Stepney. Tenement block collapsed, trapping a family in the basement. We finally got ’em out around an hour ago.’ He stifled a yawn. ‘Thought I’d come and check this place had been evacuated...’ He trailed off. ‘I can’t believe it. Where are those bleedin’ coaches?’
His face darkened. ‘They’d better get here before Jerry does. These people won’t stand for another night here. It’s a rest centre, for pity’s sake, not a proper shelter! They’re only here cause there’s nowhere else for ’em to go.’
Joyce grimaced. ‘Dore made some calls last night to pile pressure on West Ham Council, but it doesn’t seem to have worked, does it?’
They stared about them and Joyce felt a deep ripple of unease. They watched as a crowd gathered around an official.
‘The coaches were supposed to be here by now. Where the bloody hell are they?’ yelled a woman in a nightie, with two kids clinging to her legs. ‘We’re casualties, not casuals!’
‘This is inhumane,’ Harry muttered. ‘I’ve got to do something.’
‘But you’ve already been down to the council offices once!’ Joyce pointed out.
‘Well, I’m going back. I’ll knock down the door if I have to and requisition every bleedin’ vehicle I can find.’ His nostrils flared in disgust. ‘These good folks are all salt of the earth, beautiful people so they are. They deserve better.’
He turned to her and took her by the shoulders. ‘Joyce, this isn’t the place to be in. You need to leave now.’
‘But I was going to do another story-time session once I’ve fetched my torch...’
