In a Class of Their Own Read Free Page B

cannae find the nine bob a week for the rent?” Terror-stricken, he hardly heard Rachel speaking to him.
    “Well, Johnny, what d’you think?”
    “It’s … it’s just great, it is. Absolutely … dandy in fact.”
    Then, after a lengthy pause: “I was just wonderin’.” He needed more time to think; time to find a good reason to run away from the problem. Something that Rachel would accept gracefully. Then it came to him suddenly. “What if we hae tae gang tae war?”
    “And what on earth would a war wi’ Hitler have to do wi’ us taking on this house?”
    Johnny could only shake his head and stare blankly at her.
    “Surely you’re not saying that if Chamberlain wakes up and finds he’s been hoodwinked an’ there’s a war on, then we cannae take this house?”
    “What I’m sayin’ is …” Johnny hunted desperately for words. “… that even though I’m in an exempted job I wid still need to volunteer for some sort o Hame Guard duties or somethin’.”
    “So?”
    “Well, ye’d be up here all alane wi the fower bairns – five bairns I mean – ye wuidna be aside my Ma or Ella when the bombs stairted.”
    There was silence for a moment as the words sank in. Rachel turned away to hide the triumphant expression on her face. Then Johnny put his head in his hands as enlightenment dawned.

CHAPTER 2
RATIONING
    Johnny had just turned the key in the lock and opened the door when he yelled, “Carrie! Sam! For heaven’s sake, pit a sock in it.”
    “It no me, Dad. It’s him,” Carrie screeched as she swung another punch at Sam.
    “Me? Never. She’s ayeways at it,” Sam retaliated, pushing Carrie over and on to the floor.
    “I am not,” she said defiantly, kicking out at Sam.
    “But ye are,” Sam retorted before chanting, “Fower eyes. Fower eyes. Just like mince pies.”
    Johnny breenged forward, grabbed Sam by the arm and yanked him to his feet. “Look, my lad,” he said threateningly as he shook Sam. “Dinnae ever, ever let me hear ye say such a thing to yer sister again.”
    This reaction emboldened Carrie, who smirked at Sam before leaping from the floor on to his back. Curling her legs tightly round his waist, she began pummelling him with her clenched fists.
    “That’s enough,” Johnny commanded. “Is there no enough fightin’ goin’ on the noo withoot you twa startin’ anither war in here?”
    He heaved Carrie off Sam’s back and propelled her into the scullery.
    “Rachel!” he called. “Could ye no hear the racket they twa were makin’? Heard their shrieks from the tap of the back lane, so I did.”
    Rachel didn’t answer. She just sat there on her rickety wooden chair, staring vacantly into space.
    Johnny hesitated before shaking his head. “Em … em,” he stammered. “Ye just gang back ben the hoose, Carrie. But keep awa frae Sam.”
    He closed the door quietly but firmly on both children and turned to his wife. “Noo then, Rachel. What’s up? You cannae be awa wi’ a bairn again. Hiv ah no been gettin’ aff at Haymarket for months noo?”
    Rachel well understood Johnny’s euphemism for a practice that so often dulled her sex life. She blinked her half-misted eyes. “Och, if it was only you forgetting to get off afore the Waverley, I’d be more than happy.”
    Johnny pulled up another chair and slumped himself down in front of Rachel. Then he patted her hand and took a deep breath. “So ye’ve mebbe heard aboot whit happened to me at work the day?”
    “No,” said Rachel, pulling her hand away impatiently.
    “Then whit on earth’s wrang?”
    “Mind how you wanted me to get your shoes out of the mending the day?”
    “Dinnae say ye didnae hae enough to pey for them?”
    “No… Aye …  What I mean is, I hadnae at the start. No till I pawned your suit.”
    Johnny jumped to his feet, the chair toppling over with a thud, and shrieked, “Pawned ma suit! But Rachel, you ken it’s the Trade Union meetin’ the nicht. The AGM. An’ I’m