“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.
“I don’t mind,” said Hedy. “I think it is better to be honest.”
Elizabeth gazed at her. “You are a very brave young woman.”
Hedy’s eyes glinted in the lamplight. “I think we are all brave now.”
Her words echoed in the silence of the shelter as they listened to the roar of battle outside. Gertie was sure that the bombs were getting nearer. A house three streets over from hers had been destroyed only last week. The Germans often scattered so-called bread baskets of incendiaries as they passed over, leaving flaming pyres in their wake. The townspeople’s existence was a surreal combination of horror mixed with the mundane. They went about their business, queuing for rations, listening to the radio, taking strolls in the park, and yet everything was edged with fearful anticipation.
“Everyone knows there’s a bomb with your name on it,” Gertie heard Miss Crow remark to anyone who would listen as she stood behind her in the butcher’s queue one day. Every time the siren wailed, Gertie’s heart plunged. This could be the one. Maybe tonight we won’t be so lucky.
Yet Gertie had surprised herself in the way she was able to live with this fear. She had thought it would be impossible to face another war without Harry to spur her on. She knew she had Hedy to thank in many ways. Together, they were doing their part in the bookshop. Despite Miss Snipp’s misgivings, the Air Raid Book Club was proving to be something of a hit. They now had a devoted number of grateful members and had enjoyed animated discussions in the shelter on Rebecca and Frankenstein over the past couple of months. Although she wasn’t able to stop the raids or soften people’s losses, Gertie was proud that they were helping in their own way.
Hedy had fallen asleep with her cocoa mug still in her hands. Gertie pried it from her fingers and set it on the side table, placing a blanket over her. “Billy is a splendid little chap,” she said to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth stared into the middle distance. “He finds it hard without a father.”
“I’m sorry,” said Gertie. “It must be hard for you too.”
Elizabeth nodded. She opened her mouth as if trying to decide whether to elaborate before folding her lips together. “Well, I suppose we best try to get some sleep.” She gazed at Billy’s sleeping form, his lips pursed in a perfect curve, a tiny frown on his soft brow. “Good night, Mrs. Bingham.”
“Good night, dear,” said Gertie. She sat for a while longer in the quiet of the shelter, its closed-in atmosphere offering an unexpected sense of security. The steady breathing of her companions, Hemingway’s gentle snoring, and the distant thud of bombs were a familiar background. She lay down and closed her eyes, wondering at how strange it was to find peace among the horror, but perhaps that was the only way to survive in life.
Gertie paused to admire the holly wreath tied with scarlet ribbon that Hedy had hung from the bookshop door the day before. The window was filled with copies of A Christmas Carol, their book club choice for December. Hedy had carefully copied a selection of the delightful John Leech illustrations onto the backs of some old rolls of wallpaper and hung them behind the piles of books. Gertie decided that Mr. Dickens would be proud of their festive display.
She unlocked the door and made her way inside. The reassuringly musty scent of books lifted her heart. It seemed strange that only a year ago she had been ready to leave this haven behind. Its walls had echoed with Harry’s absence, every book a stark reminder that he was gone. Gertie ran her hands along their soft spines. Harry was still here, but instead of filling her with sorrow, she was comforted. She had found a way to carry on, to build on what they’d created. Gertie wished that Harry were there to see it, but she sensed in her heart that he knew. The bookshop had saved her. She could never imagine turning her back on the place now.
By the time Miss Snipp and Hedy arrived, the shop was teeming with customers. The mood was one of cautious optimism as people seemed determined to enjoy the festive season regardless.
“I’ve heard a rumor that the Jerries are going to call a truce over Christmas,” said Mrs. Wise, who was buying an illustrated edition of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland for her granddaughter.
“Try telling that to the people of Manchester,” said her husband, glancing up from a book on animal husbandry. “They’ve got it worse than us at the moment.”
Gertie was surprised when halfway through the morning Miss Crow made an appearance. She eyed the shelves with suspicion.
“Good morning, Miss Crow,” said Gertie. “How may we help you?”
“I’d like to buy a book,” she said in a faltering voice. “For my nephew’s son.”
“I see. Well, perhaps Hedy could help you. She’s our children’s specialist.”