‘I think you’re ever so brave.’
He shrugged, but he looked pleased. ‘We’re all doing our bit.’
I looked at the notepaper on my lap. ‘You should write thisdown,’ I said. ‘Write about what it’s like to fly. Maybe when your arms are better you could start keeping a diary.’
‘We’re not supposed to,’ he said, tapping the side of his nose. ‘It’s all top-secret business.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘I don’t mean sharing anything that would get you into trouble, I just mean writing about what it’s like to fly. One day, when you’re older, you might like to look back and remember. Or someone might.’
‘Maybe,’ Harry said.
‘Oi, Harry, are you done?’ the airman in the bed next to him called over. ‘Stop taking up all this nurse’s time. I need her to write to my Marjory for me.’
‘Righto,’ I said to him. I got up from the chair next to Harry’s bed and picked it up to take it round to the other chap. Harry reached out his arm, stiffly because of the plaster cast, and put his fingertips on my hand. ‘Thank you, Nurse Watson,’ he said.
*
‘He likes you,’ Nelly teased as we walked home later. We were both feeling quite giddy because we’d written lots of letters for parents and siblings and sweethearts, and it had been emotional and heartbreaking but also really rather fun.
‘Who likes me?’ I said now, even though I knew who she meant.
‘Harry, was it? The airman with the sparkly eyes.’
I snorted. ‘They all look the same,’ I fibbed. ‘I don’t know who you mean.’
‘Sure you do,’ said Nelly. ‘I saw the way you looked at him, Elsie Watson.’
‘Rubbish,’ I said, but I couldn’t hide my smile. We’d walked all the way home from the hospital because, though it was cold, it was bright and the sun was shining, and we weren’t in a hurry for once. But the air was thick with dust from buildings and though we’d not walked far, my eyes felt gritty. As we turnedthe corner, we saw several houses that had taken a direct hit and been reduced to rubble.
‘Jesus,’ said Nelly looking at the pile of debris. ‘Didn’t whatsit from the hospital live round here somewhere? That doctor – what was his name now?’
I had no idea, so I just shrugged, finding it hard to tear my eyes away from the bombsite. A woman in a thin coat was standing on top of the rubble, a little girl by her side. She couldn’t have been more than four years old, five at the most, and she was gazing round in wonder. She wouldn’t remember a time before bombs, I thought. How awful that this was her childhood. As we walked by I saw something catch the little girl’s eye. She bent down and when she stood up again, she was wearing a hat with a large bow on it and looked very pleased with herself.
I nudged Nelly. ‘Look, she’s found her favourite hat.’
Nelly smiled. ‘That’s sweet,’ she said. ‘Her mammy’s found some bits too, see?’
The woman was rummaging through the debris, throwing small items into a suitcase she’d perched on the remains of a dining-room table. But as we went past, a shout from an ARP warden nearby made her look up.
‘You there,’ he yelled. ‘Get out of it. This isn’t your house.’
The woman shut the suitcase, took the little girl by the hand and hurried away. Nelly and I exchanged a glance.
‘Thieves,’ I said in disappointment.
‘People are doing what they have to do,’ said Nelly and I admired her empathy. She was so kind – always seeing the best in people.
As we got close to the house, I groaned. ‘We’ve got no bread,’ I told Nelly. ‘We need to go to the shop.’
‘I’ll go and get some. I’ve got some other things to pick up, too.’
‘If you’re sure?’
‘Course.’
She wandered off in the direction of the shops and I went inside the house.
Mrs Gold was in the hall. She was wearing her coat on her way in or out – I couldn’t be sure. She looked pleased to see me.
