‘Kenny looks pleased with his book,’ I said to Sindhu.
She smiled. ‘It’s about football during the Second World War.’ She gestured proudly to one of the shelves. ‘We’ve been bumping up our local history section because they go like hot cakes when we visit the care homes.’
I followed her gaze and to my delight noticed that the shelves were full of books all about this part of South London during the Blitz, and beyond. Perfect inspiration for my mural project.
Putting down the Dean Koontz I’d chosen for Joyce, I went to go over to the history section, just as Helen climbed up into the van. She flicked her gaze over me, then made straight for the wartime books.
Without even properly reading the titles of the books on offer, she began taking them off the shelf and piling them into her arms.
‘Oh,’ I said, too startled to be polite. ‘Are you taking them all?’
Helen turned her steely gaze on me and then smiled at Sindhu. ‘I believe I can borrow ten books on my ticket?’
‘That’s right,’ Sindhu said. ‘And you can keep them for six weeks. It’s an extended loan period as we’re not here every week.’
‘Thank you so much,’ Helen said. She picked up a book calledBombs and Bandages – London’s Hospitals in Wartimeand tucked it under her elbow. I wanted to reach out and grab it from her arms.
‘Does that mention Tall Trees?’ I asked. ‘It was a hospital during the war.’
‘Was it?’ said Helen.
I nodded. ‘I’d like to know more about it.’
‘Well then, I’ll be sure to let you have this book when my loan period is up,’ she said. ‘In … six weeks was it you said?’
‘Six weeks,’ Sindhu said. ‘And if that’s not long enough, you can renew.’
Helen added the final book about the war to her pile. ‘I may have to,’ she said. I thought her tone was triumphant, but I couldn’t understand why. ‘I have a lot here to get through.’
I looked at the now empty shelf where all that remained were two books about the Sixties, which did look interesting but weren’t going to help me, and something about the Industrial Revolution. I forced myself to smile at Helen over the top of her pile of books.
‘You must be interested in local history, huh?’
‘I am indeed.’
‘But you’re not from here?’
She looked guarded suddenly. ‘No, I’m from Ireland. I have some …’ she paused ‘… family links with this area.’
She turned away from me and gave the pile of history books to Sindhu to check out. I waited for her to go and then borrowed Joyce’s books.
‘She’s a big fan of history,’ Sindhu said, tilting her head in the direction Helen had walked, back to the main building.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Apparently so.’
With Joyce’s books in my arms, I hurried back to the mainbuilding and shook off the rain. I could see the doorway to Finn’s little cupboard as I walked through reception, but I couldn’t see him. I felt ratty and cross that Helen had taken all the books from under my nose. But I was nothing if not contrary. So what if Helen was making things hard for me? I was going to do my own bloody research. Maybe I’d even track down Elsie Watson myself.
Full of determination, I ducked behind the reception desk and went inside Finn’s tiny room. He wasn’t there, but there was a pad on his desk. So I picked up a pen and wrote: ‘I’m going to base my mural on Elsie’s book. Any help you can give me gratefully received.’ And then, after a moment’s thought, I added my phone number. I hoped he’d call.
Chapter 11
Elsie
1940
Nelly was decorating our flat for Christmas, even though it was still three weeks away. She was singing “Deck the Halls” at the top of her voice as she tried to pin holly along the mantelpiece without pricking her fingers.
‘Fa la la, ouch,’ she warbled. I couldn’t help laughing.
