Out of the Blue Read Free Page B

anew the pain of their loss and Win Danby would feel another pang of
unbearable guilt. Kitty stirs herself from these thoughts. It doesn’t do to brood on the sadness of things long past.
    Kitty resumes her knitting, but soon, looking up for a moment, her eyes are drawn across the room to the mantelpiece. She checks the time and sees the letter protruding from behind the carriage
clock. She hears the clock ticking and she stays perfectly still, her needles poised and thinks again of Sammy. Sammy Ray Bailey . She finishes the row and puts the knitting away. Sammy
Ray Bailey .
    Kitty is smiling as she waits for the kettle to boil. She says his name slowly out loud. ‘Sammy Ray Bailey.’ She can see his face as clear as day. She ponders for a moment, then
smiles again because she can hear his voice too. She decides, while she drinks her tea, to phone Bert Wright’s daughter. Bert will know the things a boy would like to hear about his
grandfather. As she passes the letter she taps its edge gently with her finger.
    Kitty sits on the studded leather stool in the hall and takes up her address book. She finds June’s number and dials.
    ‘Hello, June? Is that you? It’s Mrs Poll here, Kitty Poll. How is your father dear?’
    Kitty listens and relaxes a little when she hears that Bert is frail, but still as sharp as a new pin.
    ‘I thought I might come and see him.’ Kitty speaks carefully and clearly into the telephone.
    She waits, listening and staring down at the calendar that she has brought with her from the kitchen.
    ‘Yes, dear, yes – Tuesday will be fine.’ She reaches for a pen and writes down Bert’s name. ‘June, can you tell your father that I’ve had a letter from Sammy
Ray Bailey’s grandson in America. He wants – Sammy Ray Bailey, yes dear yes, your father will know who he is – he wants to know about the war. Okay then, dear – I’ll
see you on Tuesday.’
    Kitty takes the calendar back to the kitchen and hangs it on the nail in the pantry door. Yes, she thinks, this is the right thing to do. Bert will know what to tell Sammy’s grandson. For
a moment she considers Sammy as a grandfather, but the thought does not crystallise. In her mind she sees him as he was back then, the day he brought the bicycle back.

 
May 1944
    Kitty had fallen from the bicycle on Tuesday evening and by Saturday morning her knees had hardened into dark-red scabs. She stood in front of the full-length mirror, holding
up her skirt while Dora and Gwendolyn peered over her shoulders and studied her reflection.
    ‘It’s not too bad, chick,’ said Gwen. ‘Skirt lengths are shorter but we’ll still cover those knees up.’
    Gwendolyn took up the paper parcel that Kitty had brought with her. Aunt Vi had given her two old dresses for Gwendolyn to refashion. Though the dresses no longer fitted Aunt Vi, they were much
too big for Kitty. Dora giggled as Gwendolyn held them up.
    ‘Don’t laugh, Dee, darling, this lemon is gorgeous material – it’ll look lovely against your dark hair, Kitty. And it’s good that there’s plenty of it and so
little of you – if I cut it right, you’ll get a dress and a little jacket to cover your shoulders.’
    She placed it on the bed and shook out a long grey dress and pulled a face. ‘Cor, this one’s not much fun, is it? Still, we’ll get you a nice skirt or two out of it.’
Gwendolyn turned her attention to Dora. ‘So, what have you got, sis?’
    Dora’s face fell. ‘I thought you were bringing something . . .’ Her voice trailed away. Gwendolyn went to a case that was placed on a chair beside the bed.
    ‘Something like this you mean?’ she said, holding up a blue coat dress.
    ‘Oh Gwen, Gwennie it’s lovely!’ Dora squealed.
    ‘Well, it’s got a bit tight on me – I reckon I’m the only girl in London getting fat on rations! It’ll look lovely on you, Dor – we’ll add a dark-blue
trim on the cuffs and pockets. I’ll show you how to do