All The Days of My Life Read Free Page B

Why’ll we lose?”
    â€œMy dad says,” Jim Hodges told him, “they’ve got more men, and more equipment than what we’ve got. He says anyone can see we’re being beaten to a jelly. They’re on the doorstep, he says, my dad says –” and he paused. “He says Mr Churchill’s a liar.”
    â€œCor,” said Cissie. “What a rotten thing to say. Your dad’s a rotten German spy.”
    â€œHis friend thinks so, too,” said Jim. “They know Winnie’s got a plane waiting for him out in the country somewhere, and when the Germans come he’ll drive out there in his car and go all the way to America.”
    Cissie, looking out into the countryside, involuntarily searching for the plane, muttered, “I don’t believe yer.”
    â€œThat’s right, isn’t it, Win?” Jim said. He reached out and jerked her knee about. “Wake up, Win. Doesn’t our dad know Winston Churchill’s got a plane somewhere so he can escape when we lose the war? Here, Win, doesn’t our dad say that?”
    Win, waking up, said, “Oh yer. That’s what he says. What do you want to wake me up for? I’m tired.”
    â€œSo you could tell them it was true, what I said,” Jim said sensibly. “You can go back to sleep now.” And she did. “There – see,” he said to the others, “that’s what my dad says. He doesn’t care who wins the war.”
    â€œHe must be stupid,” said Frank Jessop.
    â€œDon’t you call my dad stupid,” Jim said. “He reckons we’d all be no worse off under the Germans than what we’d be under Churchill. He shoots the workers.”
    â€œNo worse off with Germans –” said Mannie. “Speak for yourself, then. Me and my mum and dad would be worse off, that’s for sure.”
    â€œOh – Jews,” said Jim. “That’s different. My dad don’t care about the Jews. He says there’s too many of them anyway, and they’ve got all the money. My dad’s thinking about the working classes.”
    â€œWho are they?” asked Mary, but no one heard her.
    â€œThey’d shoot the King,” said Cissie, scratching her head. “’Ere, I hope there’s no little strangers in the backs of these seats. My head don’t half itch.”
    â€œThey do them over every day with a brush,” Ian Brent said. “I know –I seen them. Anythink in your head you must have picked up at home.”
    â€œLiar,” said Cissie, but without energy. Most of the children, hot, tired and hungry, were losing heart.
    â€œI hope I get on a farm,” Jim Hodges said placidly. “I wouldn’t half like to see the animals.”
    â€œWhat animals?” said Mary.
    â€œSheep and cows,” said Jim. “That sort of thing.”
    â€œI hope the bull gets you, Jim Hodges,” said Cissie in a murmur.
    â€œChickens,” said Frank Jessop, leaning excitedly towards Mary. “You know – oh, you know, Mary, they lay eggs and that.”
    â€œLay eggs,” said Mary. “What – eggs?”
    â€œYeah, ’course. What you eat.”
    Mary had an egg every day. Ivy did not, nor did Sid, nor Jackie.
    â€œDon’t you tell nobody about these eggs,” Ivy had instructed her, with her face close to Mary’s, for emphasis. “If I get to hear you’ve said one word – one word, mind – I’ll lock you in the coal-hole and I won’t never let you out. Are you listening?”
    So Mary, with the mystery of eggs growing deeper but still inextricably bound up somehow with getting locked up, said, “Oh,” and no more. To change the subject she asked Frank, “Is this the country?”
    â€œCourse it is,” said Frank.
    â€œDon’t they have air raids here?”
    â€œCourse they don’t. Why do you think we come here?” said