Out of the Blue (2 page)

‘I’m sorry, I’m making you go way too fast – does it hurt a lot?’ Sammy stopped walking and Kitty glanced up to see his brow furrowed with concern. Kitty felt
another wave of heat rise through her face as she mumbled an apology for making a fuss.

‘Hey now, it’s okay – it must hurt, I can see that. Will your mother be at home?’

‘No, she doesn’t live there – I mean, I live with my aunt and uncle. My aunt will be there; well, at least she should be – um, she, she usually is.’ Kitty clamped
her mouth tight shut and shuddered at the way the words had stumbled awkwardly from her mouth. What was she doing? Why could she not put a simple sentence together?

‘I’m sorry, miss . . . I didn’t mean to . . .’

Kitty had enough wits left to notice his embarrassment and managed to pull herself together.

‘My name’s Kitty,’ she said as brightly as she could, ‘Kitty Danby, and my brother and I live with our aunt and uncle but our mother is still living at our home in
London. We came here during the Blitz, to be safe, you see.’ She looked up and for a moment stared straight into his eyes before quickly lowering her gaze.

He held out his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, Kitty. My name is Sammy, Sammy Ray Bailey.’

Kitty put her hand in his. ‘I’m pleased to meet you too,’ she said, and this time her voice came out all right.

They carried on walking down the hill and, as the chimneys of the first of the houses appeared through the tops of the trees, Sammy spoke. ‘It was pretty bad for folks in London from
’40–’41?’ Kitty nodded and he continued. ‘We got to see some of the newsreels at the movies. I came over back then, end of ’41. I was seventeen. My Uncle Joe
flew in the last war – still flies, does crop spraying, or did. He first took me up when I was five years old; let me have a go on the controls when I was ten.’

‘It must be amazing to look down on the world – like the birds,’ Kitty said.

‘That’s it, that’s exactly it: you’re as free as a bird and the whole world looks small and tidy.’ He had turned his face towards hers and smiled broadly as he
spoke, but then he frowned and shrugged and added quietly, ‘Well, that’s how I used to feel, you know, back in Pennsylvania when I was a kid.’

Kitty pointed ahead. ‘That’s Uncle Geoff and Aunt Vi’s place there.’

As they approached, the front door swung open and a middle-aged woman stepped out to meet them. She dried her hands on her apron and her pale eyes widened as she took in the
state that Kitty was in. Kitty murmured her thanks to Sammy and moved quietly into the hallway and stood behind her aunt.

Aunt Vi made no attempt to be discreet as she took a moment to study the young man who had brought her niece home. She eyed him up and down while Kitty explained that he had found her hurt in
the road and had insisted on helping her. Aunt Vi nodded as she listened and at last her face softened and she smiled. She shook his hand and asked Sammy in for tea. The young American
declined.

When Aunt Vi heard that he was going to fix Charlie’s bicycle, she insisted that he would stay for tea on Sunday afternoon when he planned to return it. This invitation he accepted with a
wide grin, a nod of the head and a ‘Thank you, ma’am’, in a voice so warm that Kitty felt the glow from it on her skin and some previously unknown source of happiness stirred in
her.

After Sammy had left, they went through to the kitchen and Aunt Vi pulled out a chair and sat Kitty down at the table.

‘Well, you hear all sorts, but he was a thoroughly charming young man, I thought. Lucky for you, Kitty, that he came along when he did.’

Aunt Vi took an enamel bowl from behind the curtain under the sink. It roared like homemade percussion as she half-filled it with a jet of water from the tap. She placed the bowl on the kitchen
table then, taking a cloth to the range, she lifted the kettle from the heat and warmed the water with a splash from its steaming spout.

‘Now, young lady, let me clean up those grazes while you tell me what happened.’

Aunt Vi crouched down and Kitty winced as she lifted a flannel from the warm water and began wiping away the blood and grit.

‘Charlie’s bicycle went out of control.’

‘You shouldn’t’ve had Charlie’s bicycle, Kit – we’ll never hear the end of it.’

‘I know.’

Aunt Vi took the top off a tube of Valderma antiseptic and Kitty reached out and took it from her. The back door opened abruptly and Uncle Geoff came in and plopped a rabbit in the sink.

‘What’s happened to you, Kit – been fighting the war have you?’

Aunt Vi left Kitty to apply her own antiseptic and stood up.

‘Oooh, what a whopper – we’ll have a stew. Young Kitty’s taken a fall from Charlie’s bicycle. It’s come off worse than Kitty has, by the sound of
it.’

‘Eh? And what does Charlie have to say about that?’

‘He doesn’t know yet. A nice American lad – pilot from the airbase, he found Kitty and he’s going to mend the bicycle.’

Uncle Geoff had hold of the rabbit and was working his fingers under the skin tearing the fur from the flesh.

‘Not a young’un this, Vi, he’ll need longer in the pot.’

‘I don’t think I need you to tell me how to cook a rabbit,’ Aunt Vi grumbled.

‘I was just saying.’ He took up his knife and cut the skin from the animal’s legs. ‘You want to watch the Yanks, Kitty. They took their time getting into this war, but in
other ways they’re not backwards in coming forwards, if you know what I mean.’

Before Kitty could reply, Charlie came through the front door shouting.

‘Kitty, are you all right? Mrs Parkes said she saw you coming home with a Yank and you were covered in blood —’

Charlie had reached the kitchen and looked with disappointment at Kitty.

‘You look fine,’ he said. ‘What’ya do anyway?’

Aunt Vi turned away from him and joined Uncle Geoff at the sink. Kitty stood up carefully.

‘I’m really sorry, Charlie. I’ve crashed your bicycle. Only it’s all right – it’ll get fixed.’

‘My bicycle? Of course you crashed it – you’re just a stupid girl. I never said you could ride it anyway. Where is it? I hate you, Kitty. If you’ve —!’
Charlie had raised his hands as if he was considering grabbing his sister by the throat. He was a year younger than her but already he was a head and shoulders taller.

‘Now, that’s enough. Leave your sister alone,’ snapped Uncle Geoff.

Aunt Vi stepped in now and herded Charlie towards the far end of the table where a bench stood beneath the window.

‘Sit down and calm yourself. An American pilot is bringing your bicycle over on Sunday. It’s not damaged at all – he brought Kitty home and couldn’t manage the bicycle as
well that’s all. It’ll be good as new when you see it – you’ll not know the difference. And you’ll get to meet a pilot into the bargain. I’m thinking it’s
you as should be thanking Kitty. Now eat this bit of bread up and let’s not have any of your nonsense.’ As she spoke, she cut and buttered a slice from a loaf and gave it to Charlie.
The bread was still warm and normally Aunt Vi wouldn’t allow it to be cut until the old loaf was finished. Kitty sat down quietly and marvelled at Aunt Vi’s powers of persuasion and her
economy with the truth.

Uncle Geoff had finished skinning the rabbit and he placed it on the table. Its rose pink flesh was marbled here and there with purple and a few yellow-white threads of fat.

‘There you go – supper!’ he announced proudly.

‘Tomorrow’s dinner more like – we’ve got leftovers to use up,’ replied Aunt Vi. ‘Now, do you think you could all get out from under my feet while I get Mr Bun
here in a pot?’

Charlie left the kitchen and Kitty followed him.

‘I’m really very sorry, Charlie – I shouldn’t have taken it, I know that – I wasn’t thinking – I should’ve asked you.’

‘Derrick probably would’ve let you borrow it. He liked you.’

Kitty hesitated, unsure what to say. Charlie hadn’t mentioned Derrick in a long time.

‘Did he?’ she said quietly.

‘He said he was going to marry you when we grew up. Only so as he and I could be brothers, mind you – I don’t think he was ever soppy for you, nothing like that. But I know he
would have let you ride the bicycle if you’d asked him.’

Kitty thought about what she wanted to say next and wondered if she dared say it. She imagined saying,
Do you miss him?
In the end she said, ‘He was a nice boy.’

Charlie didn’t answer but made a small muffled noise in his throat. He had his face turned away from her and Kitty raised her hand and faltered, unsure whether to touch him or not. As she
hesitated, Charlie suddenly sprung forward and raced up the stairs.

‘The bicycle better be all right, Kitty!’ he called down to her before slamming his bedroom door.

It had been a cloudless night in London and the moon was full when the Danby family went to the Anderson shelter in the garden. After the all-clear in the morning they emerged
into a haze. Charlie only once described to Kitty what happened to him that day.

The news that there were direct hits down the street was yelled across garden hedges, and Charlie was desperate to go and see for himself and look for shrapnel for his collection. As soon as
they got back into the house, Charlie ran upstairs saying that they should start breakfast without him. He banged the toilet door and slid the bolt noisily. Then he held his breath as he pushed
against the door and silently released the bolt.

Charlie crept down the first few steps of the staircase and leaned over the banister rail. He could hear his mum talking and he could see Kitty’s legs as she moved backwards and forwards.
Good,
he thought. They were busy in the kitchen. He raced down the stairs and had the front door open and was halfway through it before he called back, ‘Just nipping out, Mum, back in
a jiffy!’

Charlie slammed the door as his mum’s voice chased him into the front garden.

‘Charlie! Don’t you . . .’

But Charlie put the door between his ears and the voice and he didn’t get to hear the end of the sentence.
You’re not really doing anything wrong if you’ve not quite heard
what it is you’re not supposed to do
, he thought cheerfully, and felt a thrilling little skip in his stomach.

Charlie was out of the gate at a run and hurtling round to Derrick Painter’s house. He had heard his mum say earlier that number seventeen had been hit during the night raid. That was
where Derrick’s nana and grandad lived – they normally slept in a Morrison shelter in the front room, but they had been having their tea at Derrick’s house when the siren sounded
and had spent the night in Derrick’s Anderson shelter. Kitty had said how lucky they were not to be at home when the bomb struck. But their mum had said, ‘It’s come to something
when you’re lucky you’ve had your house flattened.’

As Charlie turned the corner, he saw Derrick running up the road towards him.

‘Me grandad’s meeting the ARP man at the house in fifteen minutes – they’re gonna board up the downstairs windows. We’ve gotta be quick, Charlie. I’ll cop it
if Grandad sees us there.’

Puffing and red-faced, Derrick collided with Charlie and began pushing him back round the corner. Charlie wriggled free.

‘I was going to say we should go round the block and come up from the bottom of Hope Street. If me mum or Kitty sees us heading that way they’ll stop us.’

But Derrick shrugged him off and kept going. ‘There’s no time to go all the way round – come on!’

The two boys slowed down when they reached Charlie’s house and crossed the road. Once they were past it, they ran as fast as they could until they were opposite number seventeen before
crossing back.

Derrick’s grandparents’ house was an end of terrace and the bomb had hit the gable end. The front of the house was still standing, but the roof was gone and there was a gaping hole
in the side. The rubble beneath the hole was smoking. Despite this chaos, the front gate was latched and most of the garden was neat and tidy. The two boys peered over the fence. Derrick was the
first to speak.

‘Look at that.’ Derrick pointed at a pile of clothes that lay strewn across the path by the front door. ‘That’s my grandad’s best suit, that is.’

Glancing up and down the street, Charlie unlatched the gate and went into the front garden and walked towards the smouldering pile of bricks. He picked his way down the side passage into the
back garden. Here, there was a much bigger mound of bricks and rubble where the back of the house had taken the impact of the blast. Looking up, he could see the interior wall of the back bedroom.
It was peculiar to see the wallpaper, pink regency stripes that no one but Derrick’s grandparents had looked at since it was hung, now exposed for all to see. Charlie saw what was left of the
wardrobe; the splintered wood slumped to one side and the clothes bulging out.

Charlie wasn’t aware of Derrick who had walked past him and stepped over the bricks and into the back room. His nana called it the dining room, but it was really the most used room of the
house, where they ate their meals, read the paper, listened to the radio and sat together when there wasn’t a raid.

‘Streuth!’ Derrick murmured as he looked at the table crushed beneath the weight of the fallen bricks and plaster. ‘They can’t live here no more.’

As Charlie turned his attention to where Derrick was standing, he saw the cast-iron fireplace in the bedroom above hanging from the wall at a forty-five degree angle over Derrick’s
head.

‘Get out! It’s not safe!’

Derrick turned his face and grinned at Charlie. And then, what remained of the ceiling, the bedroom wall and the fireplace collapsed in a sickening roaring rush.

The following week, on the day of Derrick’s funeral, Mr and Mrs Painter received a telegram. Their elder son, Reg, had been killed at sea. The next day Mrs Danby made the
arrangements to send her children to her brother and his wife in Kent and went to the town hall and volunteered for war work.

‘Pack your bags, you two – you’re going to stay with Auntie Vi and Uncle Geoff in the country.’

‘Aren’t you coming with us, Mum?’ Kitty asked.