Somewhere Over England
“There were no bombs, no aeroplanes, no ack-ack, no cold damp shelter, just a warm bed, a stone hot-water bottle at his feet, and silence. Each night the quiet lay like a blanket around him in this room with the sloping roof, the dark beams, the fireplace which was boarded up. Each night Laura kissed him, pressing the sheets and blankets tightly round his neck to stop the draughts. Each night he lay straight and still and safe and could not sleep because his mother was not there.
The candle in t...he saucer flickered, shadows catching the dried flowers which hung from string wound around the nails driven deep and rusting into the overhead beam. Marian had given him a string bag full of vegetables when he left London. She had stood with his mother on the platform crying, but his mother had not wept. Her face had been still, her lips barely moving as she said goodbye, bending to kiss him, to hug him, pulling his arms from her shoulders when he clung, pushing him to the WVS lady who stood at the open door.MoreLess
The candle in t...he saucer flickered, shadows catching the dried flowers which hung from string wound around the nails driven deep and rusting into the overhead beam. Marian had given him a string bag full of vegetables when he left London. She had stood with his mother on the platform crying, but his mother had not wept. Her face had been still, her lips barely moving as she said goodbye, bending to kiss him, to hug him, pulling his arms from her shoulders when he clung, pushing him to the WVS lady who stood at the open door.MoreLess
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