The Blitz Read Free

guides if I was so desperate. I told her she must be joking. No uniform was worth that!

Tuesday, 6th August
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    You’ve got to hand it to Mum. If she says she’s going to do something there’s no stopping her. Yesterday she went down and signed up as an ARP warden, just like she’d said. No uniform, though. Just an arm-band with ARP (for “Air Raid Precautions”) written on it in big white letters.
    Dad laughed when he saw her. “We’re all in trouble now, Beattie,” he said. “Signed up just like that! How do they know you aren’t a German spy?”
    â€œSid Bazeley’s running the show down there,” Mum answered, unpinning her hat. “If he doesn’t know I’m not a spy, there’s something wrong. We were kids together in Madras Terrace. There’s a few stories I could tell you about Sid!”
    Ever since Shirl and I had our spot of bother last week, Mum’s been flapping about the blackout. She checks our room every evening, and makes us pin up spare blankets round the window.
    â€œNow it won’t matter what you two monkeys get up to,” she says.
    I suppose if she’s going to be a warden and boss other people about, she’s got to keep things tight at home.
    The warden’s post is in our old school, down Hengist Road. They moved in as soon as the kids were evacuated last year. There hasn’t been any proper school since, because all the teachers were evacuated as well, and it’s funny to think of the wardens sitting in our old classrooms drinking tea. Mum says it’s about time the ARP did something more for people than just shouting at them. She’s got ideas about running concerts, and parties for the kids and all that. We’ll see. From what I remember of Sid Bazeley, it’s not the kind of thing he’d go for. He keeps a fruit and veg shop up towards Catford and he’s always been as miserable as sin with us kids.
    As far as the blackout goes, there’s good news and bad news. You’d be surprised at the number of accidents that happen because no one can see anything in the dark. Last week in Dad’s local paper I read that someone was killed falling off a railway platform over near Bromley. And just down the road old Annie Makins toppled off the kerb one night and broke her ankle, poor thing! In some places they’re painting the kerbs white, and even putting a white band round postboxes so that you don’t walk into them, but they haven’t got to Summerfield Road yet.
    The good news? You should just see the stars! In the old days before the war they were always hidden by the street lights. Now on clear evenings the sky’s jet-black and covered with millions of sparkly diamonds. You can even see the Milky Way stretching across like a sort of gauzy scarf.

Wednesday, 7th August
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    I’m really bored. It’s raining and it doesn’t feel like the summer holidays one bit. But then since there’s no school terms now, what’s a holiday and what isn’t?
    When everyone was evacuated last year, it was great at first. As I said, all the teachers went off with the kids, and there wasn’t anyone left to run the schools so we had to stop at home. But I really didn’t want to be packed off to Sussex or Devon or somewhere where we wouldn’t know anybody, and I could see Tom was scared stiff too. I got myself in a right state worrying till finally Mum said they’d send Tom and me away over her dead body.
    Mrs Chambers from the school paid us a visit to try to make her change her mind. I was listening outside the front parlour door and there was quite a row. Mrs Chambers said Mum was setting a bad example. She ought to do what the government said was best. Mum said she didn’t like anyone telling her what to do when it came to her children. Mrs Chambers snapped: what would Mum feel like if a bomb dropped and Tom and me were killed?
    Mum