The Air Raid Book Club(68)

Billy considered this for a moment. “I wouldn’t mind being a dog,” he said, reaching out a hand to stroke Hemingway, who was asleep by his feet.

“Is the boy called Arno by any chance?” asked Gertie.

Hedy nodded. “And the girl is called Gertie.”

Charles laughed. “Gertie Bingham. In print at last! What on earth will Miss Snipp say?”

“She’s too busy complaining about all the extra work she has to do for the prisoner of war book club,” said Gertie. “Apparently, The Thirty-Nine Steps is to blame for her sciatica flaring up again.”

“John Buchan should be ashamed of himself,” said Uncle Thomas with a twinkle in his eye.

“Well, it’s a good effort, Gertie,” said Charles. “I bet those chaps are grateful to have anything to help them pass the time.”

“Sam says they’re a godsend,” said Hedy. “Apparently the copies of Maugham and Hemingway that we sent him have been shared ’round so much they’re falling to pieces.”

“Does he say much about what life is like?” asked Elizabeth.

Hedy shook her head. “Not really. They’re grateful for the food parcels, as the rations aren’t up to much, but they keep themselves busy.”

“What else can you do in this blasted war?” said Uncle Thomas.

“True,” said Gertie, patting his hand. “Now, who’s for tea?”

“You shouldn’t be making the tea on your birthday,” said Charles, standing up.

“You can help me then.”

The sky was awash with fading shades of peach and apricot as the sun descended behind the trees, cloaking the world in shadow. Gertie and Charles moved companionably around the kitchen, laying out cups and setting the kettle to boil. She hummed a little tune to herself as she fetched the milk.

“It’s good to see you happy, Gertie.”

She stared into his clear blue eyes, overcome with a sudden urge to tell him what she was feeling. Right on cue, the air-raid siren screamed. “Well, I always think that tea tastes better in the shelter,” she said. “Come along, everyone. Chop-chop!”

“You see this is the reason why I don’t venture over the river,” said Uncle Thomas, hobbling toward the back door.

“I do believe they have air raids north of the river as well, Uncle,” said Gertie, placing an arm under his elbow and steering him out into the garden.

“Shall we play a game?” asked Billy, his eyes shining as they huddled inside the shelter.

“Or what about a story?” said Hedy. “I used to play a game with my family where we took turns and told a few lines each.”

“That sounds like fun,” said Gertie, taking a sip of tea. “Who wants to start?”

“I will!” cried Billy.

“Very well, young man. Off you go.”

Billy cleared his throat. “Once upon a time there was a girl called Gertie Bingham,” he began. “She lived in a house full of books and was very brave . . .”

“I like the sound of her,” said Charles, flashing a grin at Gertie. Billy scowled. “Sorry, Billy. Please continue.”

“She lived in a house full of books and was very brave, but she was lonely.”

Gertie felt Charles reach for her hand.

“Your turn, Mama.”

“One day,” said Elizabeth, “there was a knock at the door, and there, on the doorstep, was a gigantic egg.”

“A dinosaur egg?” whispered Billy.

“Wait and see,” said Elizabeth. “Hedy, you’re the storyteller. I think you should continue.”

Hedy thought for a moment. “Gertie carried the egg inside and placed it on a shelf in the airing cupboard to keep it warm. A few days later, she was preparing her breakfast when she heard a squeaking and a creaking from the cupboard and then a loud CRACK!” Billy squealed. Hedy stared at him goggle-eyed as she whispered, “Gertie crept to the cupboard and very slowly opened the door. Inside was . . .” She looked to Charles.

“What?” cried Billy, jiggling up and down. “What was in the cupboard?”

Charles hesitated for a moment before answering. “A baby dragon,” he said.

“I love dragons,” said Billy.

“This was a young girl dragon. She was willow green, and her scales were tipped with purple. As Gertie opened the cupboard, the little dragon sneezed. A tiny spark of fire flew from the dragon’s nostrils so that Gertie had to jump out of the way to avoid getting singed. Most people would be scared to find a dragon in their airing cupboard, but not Gertie. She carried the little dragon to the kitchen and fed her kippers for breakfast.” He grinned at Gertie, who rolled her eyes. “Over to you.”

She smiled. “At first, Gertie wasn’t sure about this little dragon,” she said, glancing toward Hedy. “But she came to realize how much she needed her and was very glad that the dragon came to stay.”

“Is that the end?” asked Billy with a note of disappointment.

“I think it’s my go,” said Uncle Thomas. “And then the dragon grew too big and started a colossal fire and burned down the whole house.”

“Gosh,” said Billy. “Was everyone all right?”

“Yes, everyone was fine. He was only joking,” said Gertie, relieved as the all clear sounded. “And that’s why it’s better for you to sell books rather than write them,” she told Uncle Thomas as she helped him from the shelter.