Whistling in the Dark (14 page)

But Mum explained that it was the Ministry of Food’s job to see that nobody starved. “Rationing’s awful, but it’s all worked out to keep us healthy, if not well fed. At least we’ve got plenty of fresh vegetables, with everybody digging for victory and all those Land Army girls working flat-out on the farms.”

All the same, the meagre sweet ration involved an agonizing choice between scoffing the lot in one go and then going without for the rest of the month, or eking it out, bit by bit. Joan usually preferred the former.

“At least you’re all growing up with good strong teeth,” said Mum.

Mum like many other self-sacrificing mothers, had long ago declared that she had never really liked chocolate, and divided her rations among the rest of the family.

The post-Christmas gloom was reinforced by headlines in the newspapers and on the radio about the iniquities of the black market. The news reports reeled at the scandal of all kinds of off-ration food being sold at extortionate prices to those who could afford it and were unpatriotic enough to buy it. The stories hinted at corruption in high places: “Not only ‘spivs’ selling illicitly on street corners, but a canker running right through our society, which must be rooted out!”

Joan’s heart sank when she read this, thinking about the old mill, and Ross and Derek’s discovery when they were nosing around there.

“You’ve just got to tell someone about it soon,” she told them when they were next out trundling the handcart. “Even if it does get you in trouble for trespassing.”

“We’re planning just one more trip out there next time there’s an air raid on,” said Ross. “Might even be able to pick up a bit of stuff.”

“You can’t do that! It’d be
stealing
!” Joan said.

“No one’ll miss it. It’s probably all hot, anyway,” Derek said.

“You ought to tell someone,” Joan repeated.

“Who would we tell?” said Derek. “The police? And have them coming round and asking questions and worrying my mum stiff?”

“Couldn’t you tell a grown-up? Someone you can trust?” said Ania, who had started to help them with the collections.

“Don’t know anyone,” said Ross.

Joan cast about for a suggestion. Ronnie Harper Jones came into her head, but she immediately dismissed it. Things were already complicated enough in that direction. And she would never forget the officious way he had barged into their back room on that terrible evening when he had handed Lukasz over to the Military Police. If it had not been for Mr Russell’s timely intervention, Lukasz would be in a military prison by now.

Then a thought struck her. It was so blindingly obvious that she could not think why it hadn’t come to her before. “What about Mr Russell?” she said. “Couldn’t you get Doreen or David to tell him about the old mill? He was so great about getting Lukasz’s court martial quashed. He’d know what to do.”

“OK. We might think about it,” said Ross, non-committal as ever.

But a few days later, disaster struck.

It was Ross who broke the bad news to Joan.

“Derek’s been in hospital,” he told her.

“
What?
Is he ill?”

“Nah. He’s got a broken collarbone. Been knocked off his bike. But he’s home again now. I’ve just been to visit him.”

“Where did it happen?”

Ross looked slightly shifty.

“Out by the old mill,” he said. “We bicycled out there again for another look around. Maybe get some stuff. But we never took anything in the end. Too risky, like you said. It was getting dark and we were on our way back, cycling along that narrow track, when a great lorry with no lights came up behind us out of nowhere! Going like hell, really fast. Drove right at us, deliberately trying to run us down. I managed to swerve into the hedge, but it knocked Derek flying and drove on. He hit the ground hard and broke his collarbone.”

“Oh, Ross! That’s
terrible
!”

“I didn’t get their number plate. I was too busy trying to help Derek. He was really bad, crying with pain and that. I did like they tell you in the first-aid classes – didn’t try to move him, but propped his head up a bit and put my jacket over him. Then I beat it out of there as quick as I could to the call box on the main road, near the end of the track, and rang for an ambulance. They took ages – they’re short-staffed cos of the air raid and that – but they came in the end.”

“Did you tell them that it was a hit-and-run? That someone tried to knock you down on purpose?”

“Nah. We’re keen to keep quiet about it, Derek and me. We’ve agreed we don’t want anything to do with the cops. I told them we were riding without lights and that we never had time to get the lorry’s number plates. So they took the usual statement and told us off – and now with any luck they’ll leave us alone.”

Joan, Ania and Doreen went to visit Derek and took him some of Ronnie’s precious chocolate biscuits, left over from Christmas. They found him remarkably cheerful. One good thing at least had come out of this accident.

“My mum’s stopped going out in the evenings,” he told them. “She’s been staying at home with me since I had this bad shoulder. She cried when she came to see me in hospital and said she felt awful that she wasn’t there when they rang to tell her. Course, this means it’s going to be trickier for Ross and me to get out on our bicycles at night when my shoulder’s better. But it’s nice having her around, cooking my supper and all.”

CHAPTER 23

S
oon after this disaster, a banner headline appeared in the local newspaper:
BLACK MARKET SCANDAL! ILLICIT FOOD HOARD DISCOVERED
!

The front page described how, following reports of dangerous driving out by the old mill, the police had investigated the adjoining premises and found a substantial amount of illicit foodstuffs, including tea, sugar, coffee and all kinds of tinned goods, believed to be destined for the black market.

“‘No arrests have yet been made,’” Mum read aloud to them over breakfast one morning, “‘but Detective Inspector Walker, who is in charge of the case, promises swift action.’”

The article went on to report that this was part of a major ongoing investigation into the widespread criminality of black market trading throughout the whole of the Liverpool area.

As a cheerless January wore on, accompanied by the relentless Blitz, it was depressingly obvious that Ronnie was becoming a more or less daily feature of the front room when he wasn’t on duty. The topic of his engagement to Mum had been tactfully sidelined for the time being, but Brian made it clear that he could not bear to be in the same room as him, and Joan turned up the radio in the back room whenever he called. Audrey retired upstairs. Only Judy, eager for sweeties, remained loyal.

The gloom of early February was temporarily lifted by the war news that the Allies had made huge advances in the fighting in North Africa, driving Italian and German forces back westwards across the desert. Thousands had surrendered and been taken prisoner. It was a boost to public morale, but it seemed miles away from the grim immediacy of life in north-west England and the day-to-day slog of simply keeping going.

Then, gradually and without any explanation, a change seemed to take place in the Armitage household. It was hardly noticeable at first, but it was increasingly apparent that Ronnie’s visits were becoming rather less frequent, and when he did call by, he seemed less inclined to bring gifts of food. Mum offered no explanation, except to vaguely mention how busy he was at the camp. The rest of the family – except Judy – were relieved that they didn’t have to make themselves scarce every time they heard his step in the hall, and this easily compensated for the lack of goodies.

“Why doesn’t Ronnie come and see us any more?” Judy kept asking.

“He’s got an awful lot of work to do at the moment,” Mum said.

The rest of the family, who recognized a lame excuse when they heard one, tactfully kept quiet.

The news, when it came, was like an unexploded bomb that nobody had expected to go off. It took them all completely unawares but was around the district in no time: Captain Ronnie Harper Jones, a senior officer in the Army Catering Corps, had been summoned to give evidence before a civil tribunal that had been tasked with looking into local black market activities. As yet there was no accusation against him personally, but rumours and innuendoes were rife, especially in the Bluebell Cafe. Joan heard the women gossiping when she went in there with Doreen one Saturday afternoon.

“I always thought he was such a charming man – though you can’t always go by appearances…”

“I know. He was terribly generous about contributing to our charity auction in aid of war orphans.”

“Of course, I
never
buy anything on the black market – well, hardly ever. I mean, I’d have to be
desperate
! It’s just not patriotic, is it? And I’m sure Captain Harper Jones has only been asked to shed light on some of the suspicious things that have been happening locally…”

“That awful business of all the stuff they found out at the old mill! Terrible to think that kind of thing could be happening right under our noses!”

In public, Mum put on a brave face, but she looked very tired. She never went to the Bluebell Cafe anyway, but now avoided it like the plague.

Joan felt helpless. She tried to avoid hearing gossip at school. Angela Travis, who was in her element with this kind of situation, went in for a great deal of whispering in corners with her friends. At home, the subject of the inquiry was still being ignored by tacit agreement.

Mum now saw very few friends, and rarely went out except to take Judy to and from school and to do her Red Cross work. But Mrs Russell dropped in from time to time, relaxed and friendly as ever. She never gossiped or talked about the tribunal, just provided a little cheerful company and an occasional exchange of books. Doreen was equally tactful. Joan wondered how she could possibly manage to face school every day without her.

Brian was the only member of the family who remained in excellent spirits. As far as he was concerned, the collapse of the family’s already minimal social life was a very small price to pay for not having to hear Ronnie’s braying voice in the front room every evening.

When at last the tribunal came to an end, the findings were ambivalent. It was announced that, although there was irrefutable evidence of local black market dealings on a small scale, as yet the jury could not prove any definite connections with the criminal gangs involved with the hoard at the old mill. They were still at large and thought to be Liverpool-based. However, some charges were being made against three clerks at the town hall, who had been selling forged ration books. Captain Harper Jones of the Army Catering Corps, who had for some time been stationed locally, was to be temporarily relieved of his post, pending further investigations.

“You could tell he was fishy a mile off,” said Brian triumphantly. “I only wish we hadn’t accepted all that stuff off him.”

“It wasn’t much,” said Joan forlornly. “I mean, not like all that stash they found down at the old mill. I can’t believe Derek and Ross found it first. We should have told someone.”

“Doesn’t matter. Everyone knows about it now. All the kids at school are talking about it. It’s in the papers and on the local radio.”

The whole family tiptoed around the subject until Mum brought it up at last.

“I know you’re all wondering about Ronnie,” she said. “About our engagement and everything. And I’ve hated you having to put up with all the gossip at school. I feel utterly responsible and miserable that any of you should have to be dragged into it. But I’ll tell you one thing, I wish with all my heart that I’d never accepted any of the food that Ronnie gave us, and if he is culpable, he’ll have to answer for it in due course. But I’m not going to completely abandon him now he’s in trouble. To be so shamed locally when he has always been popular and respected is a terrible thing to happen to anyone.”

“Carrying loyalty a bit far, isn’t she?” Brian commented sourly after she had left the room.

“You know Mum.” Audrey sighed.

CHAPTER 24