The Air Raid Book Club(42)

“Knows what?” asked Gertie.

“Oh, Miss Pettigrew, there you are,” said Hedy, appearing from the back of the shop. “I was wondering when I might see you. Betty gave me your list.”

Miss Pettigrew stared at Hedy agog. “My Georgette Heyer list?”

Hedy nodded. “Precisely.” She fished a notebook from her pocket and leafed through the pages. “And I can see that the next book is The Spanish Bride. Would you like me to fetch you a copy?”

“Oh yes, please, dear. Thank you so much.”

“She reads everything Georgette Heyer writes,” explained Hedy later. “But she can never remember what she’s read, so Betty kept a list. She passed it on to me before she left.”

Gertie smiled. “Where would I be without you girls?”



It was now clear that Hitler had his deadly sights on London. The bombing was relentless. Every night and sometimes during the day, the planes appeared, littering the city and its outskirts with a carpet of fire. Gertie and Hedy got used to spending night after night in the shelter with the Chamberses and Hemingway. Gertie made it as cozy as possible. She would bring a flask of tea and whatever sweet treats her rations allowed that week. Elizabeth Chambers and Gertie would often play cards while Hedy read to Billy. The little boy always brought his sweets to share, although he saved the Fry’s Chocolate Creams for Hedy because he knew they were her favorite.

One night, Hedy was reading Billy’s latest children’s book club choice, Peter and Wendy, to him.

“I don’t ever want to grow up,” said Billy. “I want to be like Peter and stay a child with Mama and you and Gertie Bingham and Hemingway forever.”

“I know what you mean,” said Hedy, turning her gaze toward the framed photograph on the wooden shelf behind their heads. She had taken to always bringing the picture of her family into the shelter with her.

“Who are those people?” he asked.

“That’s my family. My mama, papa, brother, Arno, and dog, Mischa.” Hedy reached out a hand to Hemingway as she said this, receiving a friendly lick in reply.

“But I thought Gertie Bingham was your mother,” he said.

“No. She is my friend,” said Hedy.

Gertie’s heart sang. Friend. That’s exactly what they’d become.

“Why aren’t your family here with you?”

“Billy, don’t be a nosey parker,” warned his mother.

“It’s all right,” said Hedy. She turned to Billy. “My family is in Germany. We are Jewish, and Hitler does not like Jews.”

“He’s a bad man,” said Billy, frowning.

“Yes,” said Hedy. “He is a very bad man. My parents were able to send me to England to stay with Gertie.”

“Hooray for Gertie Bingham!” said Billy, throwing up his arms in celebration.

“Hooray for Gertie Bingham indeed,” said Hedy, grinning at her friend.

“But why can’t your family come here too?”

Hedy pressed her lips together. Gertie could see she was fighting back tears. “Because the bad man won’t let them.”

Billy folded his arms. “We should send Gertie Bingham over to rescue them.”

“Do you know, Billy?” said Hedy, thumbing away a tear. “I think you’re absolutely right.”

“Now then, young man,” said Elizabeth. “That’s quite enough talk for tonight. It’s time for bed.”

“Can Hedy tuck me in, please?”

“Come along then,” said Hedy. “Have you got Edward Bear?”

Billy held up a startled-looking orange teddy bear wearing a green scarf. “Here he is.”

“Good boy,” said Hedy, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Can I have one more story, please, Hedy Fischer?”

“William,” warned his mother.

“Just a short one, Mama. I’m not quite sleepy enough yet.”

Hedy laughed. “Well, there is a story in my head at the moment about two fantastically brave children called Gertie and Arno.”

“Like Gertie Bingham and your brother?”

“Same names, but these are children, and they have magical powers.”

“What kind of magical powers?”

Hedy’s eyes shone as she spoke. “Gertie can escape into any book if she needs to and transport her and Arno to other worlds.”

“Gosh. And Arno?”

“Arno has the most brilliant mathematical mind and can do any sum at lightning speed.”

“I would like to hear a story about them,” said Billy, yawning.

“How about I write it and then tell you another time when you’re not so tired?”

Billy nodded as his eyelids drooped. “And Mama could draw the pictures. She’s even better at drawing than E. H. Shepard.”

“I don’t think that’s strictly true,” said his mother.

“It is,” whispered Billy to Hedy before wrapping his arms tightly around her neck. “I’m glad Gertie Bingham rescued you.”

“Me too,” said Hedy, flashing a smile at Gertie. “Good night, Billy.”

“Good night, Hedy Fischer,” he murmured before falling asleep.

“I’m sorry for Billy’s questions,” said Elizabeth, as Gertie poured them cocoa from a flask.