Tuppence To Spend (37 page)

Since Sammy wasn’t going to be home till later, Ruth thought she would pop up to the farm to see Jane. Terry had survived Africa and the taking of Tobruk, and was now somewhere in Greece. The situation there seemed bad and once again they were talking about evacuation. It’s Dunkirk all over again, every time, she thought. Wherever we go the Germans are too strong for us and we get chased out, and they’re raiding us every night, bombing all our biggest cities … What hope have we got, really?

Jane was of the same mind. ‘It’s just bad news wherever you turn. I don’t think the government knows what to do, for all Churchill’s fine words. They’re scared stiff we’re going to be invaded, you know. There’s barbed wire going up all round the coast, nobody’s allowed on the beaches … I’ve heard they’ve got the Home Guard standing by in East Anglia, they think it’s
imminent
.’

‘They’re tearing the life out of the country,’ Ruth said. ‘But we still mustn’t lose heart, Jane. Once we do that they really will have won – they can just walk in and take over, and nobody’ll stop them. As long as we won’t give in they can’t beat us.’

‘They said that in Norway,’ Jane said bitterly, ‘and look what happened. They walked in anyway. The Norwegians
never gave in, but they never stopped them either and the Germans are in charge just as much as if they
had
given in. I can’t see the point of it.’

‘I suppose it saved a lot of people being killed,’ Ruth said.

‘And then there’s France, half the country occupied by Germans. And it’ll be Greece next. We’ll be having to get them out of there, same as at Dunkirk, and my Terry’s there, and I can’t
sleep
for thinking about him. And then there’s Lizzie, in Southampton. Every time there’s a raid I’m thinking about her, wondering if the hospital’s been hit … You don’t know what it’s like, Ruth – never having had any children of your own, you just can’t
imagine
what it’s like.’

‘I can,’ Ruth said, feeling hurt. ‘Of course I can. Why, if it was Sammy—’

‘
Sammy
!’ Jane cried. ‘That’s all you think about – Sammy!
He’s
not your child. He’s just an evacuee. You’ve only had him five minutes and he’ll be going back to his father one day and he’ll forget all about you. I’m talking about my own
child
, Ruth, my
son
that I carried for nine months and gave birth to, and fed with my own milk. It’s not a
bit
the same. You haven’t got any idea.’

Ruth was silent for a moment. Then she said, ‘Maybe you’re right, Jane. Maybe I
can’t
imagine what it’s like to have a son in the war or a daughter training to be a nurse. I just wish I did. I wish I
had
had children – even if it did mean breaking my heart over them.’

The two sisters stared at each other. They’d always been friends, always able to confide in each other and share their troubles. Now, suddenly, they seemed to be on opposite sides of a high fence.

‘I’d better go,’ Ruth said, getting up. ‘Before one of us says something we might regret … I’m sorry about Terry, Jane, I really am, and I hope you get good news soon. I hope we all do. But don’t tell me I can’t imagine what it’s
like to be a mother – please. I think I
can
imagine – and in any case, imagination’s all I’ve got. Apart from an evacuee boy and a parrot, of course,’ she added bitterly.

She turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jane at the table with her half-finished tea in front of her. Ruth’s heart was thudding. Hurt seemed to be making a hard, painful lump in the middle of her chest, so that she could only take shallow breaths. The lump was in her throat too, aching, and she knew she was in danger of crying. She held her head high, determined not to break down in the village street where someone might see her, and marched swiftly down the lane, wanting only to get indoors, into her own little cottage, where Silver waited for her with his silly remarks and the crooning voice so much like Jack’s, and where Sammy had brought light into her life.

But when she got there and opened the front door, the cottage was strangely silent. She stood for a moment listening. Sammy was at the picnic, of course, enjoying himself in the woods with the two Budd boys and the Simmons girls. But why was Silver so quiet?

Slowly, dreading what she might find, Ruth opened the door to the living room. If anything had happened to Silver … He was still a relatively young parrot, but you never knew … I don’t know what I’d do if I lost him, she thought, and peeped in, nerving herself for what she might see.

Silver was not there. His cage was empty, the door open, and his stand with its perch had disappeared.

‘See?’ Muriel said. ‘He
does
like being at the picnic.’

Silver was perched on his stand under a large oak tree. The leaves of the tree were just beginning to uncurl, like little brown fists, and the thick, spreading branches gave a light, stripy shade. The picnic had been spread out beside its solid trunk, on a carpet of dry, crackling leaves. There was a brown-paper bag containing Marmite sandwiches and another with the promised condensed milk. Mrs Mudge had provided a bottle of orange squash as well, and another bag full of rock cakes.

Sammy had brought some sunflower seeds. He gave one to Silver, who cracked it. The stand wobbled a bit on the uneven ground.

‘Don’t let him fall over,’ Stella said bossily. ‘You’d better keep hold of the stand.’

Sammy and Tim had carried it between them. It had been heavy and awkward, with Silver clinging to the perch on top and flapping his wings from time to time. All the way down the lane Sammy had been nervous, expecting someone to see them and call out to know what they were up to. It would have been worse still if Auntie Ruth had seen them. ‘We’ve got to get him home before she comes back from work,’ he said anxiously.

‘But we’ve got to have the picnic first,’ Muriel said. ‘You can’t go home before we have the picnic.’

‘And we’ve got to have games too,’ Stella declared. ‘You can’t have a picnic without games. I read that in my Enid Blyton book.’

At the mention of games, Keith looked round. He had been feeding Silver another sunflower seed. ‘What games are we going to play? I’ve brought my ball.’

‘We’ll play hide and seek,’ Stella said. ‘You can be seeker first, Tim.’

‘I don’t want to be. I want to hide.’

‘Anyway,’ Muriel said, ‘we ought to dip for it.’

‘All right. We’ll dip.’ They all stood round in a circle and Stella pointed to each one in turn. ‘Dip, dip, dip. My little ship. Sails on the water. Like a cup and saucer. Dip, dip, dip.
You
are
It
.’ Her finger pointed at Tim.

He pushed out his lips. ‘That’s not fair. You made it be me.’

‘No, I didn’t. Anyway, you can’t argue, it was a dip.’ She skipped away. ‘Come on, you’ve got to give us fifty.’

‘Twenty,’ Tim said. ‘I’ll give you twenty.’ He turned away, put his hands over his face and began to count in a loud voice. ‘One, two, three …’

‘Mother caught a flea,’ Silver joined in helpfully. ‘Time for tea. I’m a little teapot, short and stout. Sammy, Sammy, shine a light, ain’t you playing—’

‘Shut up, Silver,’ Tim said between giggles. ‘I’m up to sixteen now. Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen,
twenty
. Coming, ready or not!’

He set off into the trees. The others had disappeared. Silver was left alone, standing on his perch in the middle of the wood. He flapped his wings and the stand wobbled and swayed.

‘Ruthie?’ he said, a little uncertainly. ‘I love you, Ruthie. Let me be your sweetheart. I’m a little teapot, short and stout.’ He paused. There was a clattering sound in the trees and a magpie flew to a nearby branch and stared at him. Silver backed away along his perch and the stand swayed again. Another magpie joined the first and they leant forward from their branch, peering at the intruder.

‘Five and twenty blackbirds, baked in a pie,’ Silver said.
He ducked his head sideways and eyed them. ‘Sod the little buggers.’

The magpies launched themselves from their branch, circling round the little clearing. Silver gave a squawk of dismay and fluttered his wings frantically, lifting himself from his perch. The chain round his ankle tautened and jerked him back, and he grabbed the perch with one foot, missing with the other. He toppled sideways and hung there, screeching and flapping furiously, and the magpies flew towards him, stretching their necks to peck at him as they passed. The stand fell over.

‘Silver!
Silver
!’

Ruth, running through the woods to look for Sammy, burst into the clearing and the magpies disappeared. She rushed over to Silver, who was now thrashing among the crackling leaves, and caught him in her hands, stroking him gently. ‘Oh, Silver, Silver, my poor boy, what have they done to you? It’s all right, it’s Ruthie, Ruthie’s got you. Oh, my sweetheart, my poor, poor sweetheart …’

The leaves crackled again and she looked up to see Sammy emerge from the undergrowth. His fair hair was tangled with scraps of leaf and twigs, and his face was white. He stared at her and she saw the others appear behind him – Tim and Keith, looking anxious and guilty, Muriel looking frightened, Stella mutinous. There was a moment of silence as they all stared at each other.

Silver was quiet in her hands. She looked down at him and parted his feathers gently, looking for signs of injury. To her relief there appeared to be none, although you didn’t know what might have happened to his insides … Slowly she stood up, lifting the perch, and Tim ran forward to help her get it upright. She placed Silver on top and after a moment of uncertainty he clasped his claws round it and stood up.

Ruth looked at the children again. Sammy had crept
closer. His eyes had filled with tears but for the first time since she had known him Ruth felt no compassion.

‘You naughty,
naughty
boy,’ she said in a trembling voice. ‘You
naughty
little boy. Taking Silver out of the house like that. Leaving him all on his own in the woods. He could have been
killed
by those horrible magpies. Don’t you realise that? Whatever got into you? And the rest of you,’ she added, turning her furious glance on the other children. ‘You’re just as bad. You all know I never take Silver outside, except into my own garden on nice summer days. I’d never bring him all this way. And it’s too early for him to be out, he could have caught cold and died. Maybe he
has
caught cold.’ Her voice shook again and she turned away. ‘I’m taking him straight home and you’re coming with me, Sammy. And when we get there you’re to go straight to your bedroom and stay there until I tell you to come out. I’m very, very angry with you.’

She marched off to the edge of the wood and along the lane, with Silver now perched on her wrist and Sammy holding the stand and half running to keep up with her. The others looked at each other.

Tim looked down and scraped a hole in the carpet of leaves with one toe.

‘I knew it was a daft idea, bringing Silver. Now she’ll never let us go and see him again.’

‘Well, you needn’t look at me,’ Stella flashed. ‘It wasn’t
my
idea.’

‘It wasn’t mine either,’ Keith said, guiltily aware that he’d thought it was a smashing idea.

Muriel was close to tears. ‘D’you think Mrs Purslow will tell the policeman?’

‘Tell the
policeman
?’ Stella echoed, rounding on her. There was a note of panic in her voice. ‘Why should she do that? We didn’t
steal
Silver.’

‘Well, she might say we did. We never asked, did we?’

They looked at each other uncertainly. Then Tim bent down and picked up the bag of Marmite sandwiches.

‘I s’pose we’d better take these back. We can’t have the picnic now. It’s all spoilt.’

Nobody argued with him. In silence they gathered up the uneaten sandwiches and rock cakes. Keith picked up the bottle of orange squash. Miserably, they trailed out of the wood and back along the lane.

They didn’t look up as they passed Ruth Purslow’s cottage. They kept their heads down, staring at the loose stones of the lane. None of them wanted to see her looking out of the window. None of them wanted to catch her eye.

‘… and you’re a very naughty boy,’ Ruth said for the twentieth time. ‘You know very
well
I don’t take Silver outside. You
knew
I wouldn’t have let you take him on a picnic. Didn’t you?
Didn’t
you?’

Silver was back in his cage in the living room. He was huddled on his perch, looking miserable, but he didn’t seem to be hurt. He was suffering from reaction, Ruth thought, what they’d call shock if he was a human being, and she could only hope he’d get over it. She’d heard of parrots not talking any more if they’d been upset, and although her main concern was that he should recover and be healthy, she knew that she would miss his hoarse voice dreadfully if he stopped talking. More than that, she’d miss Jack’s voice.

The thought brought a wave of misery and she looked at Sammy again. He’d gone to his room when they’d got home, but she couldn’t keep him there for ever and once she was sure there was nothing more she could do for Silver she’d called him down for his tea. She gave him bread and milk in a pudding basin, and he sat with it in front of him on the kitchen table, stirring it half-heartedly.

‘Well, didn’t you?’ Ruth persisted and he nodded miserably. He tried to swallow his sobs and hiccuped.
Tears were pouring down his cheeks. He stared up at Ruth and felt a cold despair grip his insides. She didn’t love him any more. She didn’t even like him. She wouldn’t want him in her house any more, she’d get the billeting people to take him away. He’d have to go home, to the cold empty house where Mum no longer lived, where Dad went out for days at a time, where there wasn’t enough food and no nice chairs to sit in, no warm fire. Or he’d be sent to the proved school, like Gordon. He’d be sent to proved school for stealing. For stealing
Silver
.

‘So why did you take him? Why?’

He found his voice. ‘Muriel told me to.’

‘
Muriel
told you to? But you don’t have to do what Muriel tells you.’