Peggy's Letters Read Free

wall.
    â€œLook,” he calls, his eyes gleaming. “It’s part of the tail fin of a V1 bomb.”
    â€œI don’t want to look,” I shout up at him. “This isn’t a stupid game. This is my home.” Spud turns back to his “find” and starts un-burying it before I’ve even finished talking. I swing the pram round, nearly knocking Mum off the pavement.
    â€œMum!”

4
    â€œPeggy! What’s happened? Where’s Tommy?” Mum’s voice is almost a scream. “Where is he?”
    â€œNothing’s happened. Tommy’s back at the hall. Oh, Mum, look at our house.” I burst into tears.
    Mum stops being angry and wraps me in her arms. “Poor house,” she says softly.
    She undoes her hug and pulls out a handkerchief. “Now dry those tears and have a blow. You were supposed to stay in the hall and look after Tommy.”
    â€œI only meant to go out for a minute. Just to get some air. I didn’t know I was coming here.” Tears pour out of my eyes.
    â€œThere, there, that’s enough crying.”
    â€œBut I cccccan’t stoppppp,” I say through hiccupy sobs. “I might have to crrry forever.” “I know,” says Mum, hugging me again. “I feel like that too sometimes.”
    As we turn back toward St. Marks, the ginger cat appears from behind a pile of broken bricks and purrs round my ankles. I scratch him behind his ears. “Glad you’re safe, Puss.”
    â€œCome on. Let’s get back to Tommy,” says Mum.
    I’m wheeling the pram, but her arm is still round my shoulders.
    â€œWhat I don’t understand is why you brought the pram with you in the first place,” she says as we walk along.
    â€œThat boy wanted to borrow it,” I explain, turning to point at Spud who has been joined by several other boys. He’s so busy digging in the rubble he doesn’t notice us leaving. “He thinks our house is a playground. We must stop him, Mum.”
    â€œNo,” says Mum. “It’s time for us to think about what we’re going to do next.I’ve been to see Grandad. He says we can stay with him for a while.”
    â€œStay at Grandad’s!” My memory of Grandad is a tall grumpy man in a black suit. “I don’t think he likes us.”
    â€œOf course he likes you.”
    â€œThen why doesn’t he ever come and see us?”
    â€œI don’t know. Dad’s his only son, but they never got on very well. I think he feels sad about that now.”
    â€œBut if we live at Grandad’s, I’ll have to change schools. I won’t see Nora.”
    A familiar yell pierces the air. We park the pram and race up the church hall steps.
    â€œOh, there you are,” calls Maud. She’s holding a red-faced, wriggling, screaming Tommy. They both look very cross.
    Tommy leaps into my arms.
    â€œSorry about this,” says Mum. “There was a bit of a misunderstanding.”
    While Maud goes on and on about how irresponsible it was to leave without telling her, I take Tommy back to our corner.
    Mum joins us a few minutes later. “Let’s get our things together,” she says.
    There’s not much to get together, just Tommy’s damp clothes.
    â€œOh dear,” says Mum, “Look at you two. Tommy’s practically naked, and you look like you’ve been through a hedge backward. What will Grandad think if he sees you like this?”
    I try smoothing the creases out of my crumpled dress, but it doesn’t look much different.
    Mum rummages in her handbag and pulls out a comb. “We can’t do anything about our clothes, but I can do something with your hair.”
    It hurts to have the tangles combed out, but I like having Mum do my hair. It feels so normal. She braids two plaits and looks at her handiwork.
    â€œYou’ll do,” she says with a smile. “Now go and wash your face.”
    On my way back to