The Air Raid Book Club(64)

Ever your loving brother,

Jack





Hedy reached over with her handkerchief to wipe away Gertie’s tears. “I think you and Jack are exactly like me and Arno,” she said.

Gertie held her gaze for a moment. “I want us to help other POWs like I helped Jack. I want to help Sam and all the other poor chaps trying to get through this war.”

Hedy nodded. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“There’s just one small problem,” said Gertie.

“Miss Snipp?”

Gertie nodded. Hedy gave her a sage look.

“Leave it to me, Gertie. I know what to do.”



Miss Snipp was already sorting through orders as Gertie and Hedy arrived at the bookshop the next day with Hemingway in tow. “Cup of tea, Miss Snipp?” said Gertie. “Hedy’s baked some ginger biscuits this morning.”

Miss Snipp narrowed her eyes. “Do you require a favor, Mrs. Bingham?”

“I would welcome your advice, Miss Snipp. If you can spare the time.” Gertie had known Eleanora Snipp long enough to understand that she needed to tread carefully. She was not a woman to embrace change with open arms. It had taken her a good five years to accept that women had been given the right to vote. She would still mention it with a shiver of disdain to this day.

“Very well,” said Miss Snipp.

“Well, given the success of the Air Raid Book Club, I was considering extending this to prisoners of war.”

Miss Snipp blinked. “Prisoners of war,” she echoed.

“Indeed. But of course I wouldn’t consider such an undertaking without speaking to you first.”

Miss Snipp gave a grave nod.

“So I would welcome the benefit of your wisdom as to what type of administrative undertaking might be required for such a task?” said Gertie, knowing full well that she would have the answers at her fingertips.

“Well,” said Miss Snipp with a labored sigh. “There is a great deal of paperwork and of course liaison with the relevant authorities—the Joint War Organisation, the International Red Cross, and so on—not to mention the additional packing materials required.”

“Hmm,” said Gertie. “That sounds like a lot of extra work. Perhaps it isn’t worth the bother. Hedy, I know you would dearly like to be able to send books to Sam and his fellow POWs, but I think it’s going to be too mammoth a task. You do understand, don’t you, dear?”

Hedy bit her lip to suppress her amusement. “Of course.”

Miss Snipp stared at Gertie as if she’d just suggested the Allies immediately surrender. “We will find a way,” she said.

“Are you sure?” asked Gertie.

“Of course.” She gestured toward Hedy. “Anything to help this poor girl.”

Hedy rushed forward and threw her arms around Miss Snipp’s neck. “Oh, my dear Miss Snipp. You’re a peach. I will help you in any way I can. Thank you.”

Miss Snipp blinked in amazement, offering Hedy a stiff pat on the back in reply. “Yes, well, dear. We must all do our bit. But we may need extra help parceling them up, Mrs. Bingham,” she said with a reproachful stare.

“Leave it with me,” said Gertie, heading for the door.



“The POW book club, you say?” said Margery as they took a turn around the village hall gardens.

Gertie nodded. “My brother was a POW during the Great War and was always grateful when I sent him books. He loved The Thirty-Nine Steps, so I thought we could make it our first choice.”

“I didn’t know you had a brother.”

Gertie nodded. “He died in the camp. There was an outbreak of typhus.”

Margery held her gaze for a moment before giving a grave nod. “Tell me what needs to be done.”

“Well, I thought we could set ourselves up as a distribution center and send out books as part of the Red Cross food and recreation parcels.”

Margery paused to admire a large rose bloom the color of a ripening peach. She inhaled, closing her eyes as the exquisite fragrance filled her nostrils. “I think it’s a splendid idea, Gertie.”

“I hoped you would.” Gertie watched her friend for a moment. “I must say you’re looking particularly radiant, Margery. May I ask if this has anything to do with Mr. Travers?”

Margery threw her a dreamy look. “He’s asked me to a dance.”

“A dance?”

She nodded. “On Saturday. I was wondering if you’d care to join us?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . .”

“Come along, Gertie. Shouldn’t we be grasping for these little moments of joy when we can? Who knows what tomorrow may bring.”

“True.”

“So you’ll come?”

Gertie sighed. “Very well. I’ll ask my old friend Charles Ashford to accompany me.”

“Splendid,” said Margery.

They turned out of the garden in the direction of the high street.

“Any luck at the recruitment office?”

Gertie shook her head.

“What utter tomfoolery,” said Margery. “Aren’t they always telling us to be up and at ’em? Surely we need all the brilliant young women we can muster to help with the war effort.”