There'll Be Blue Skies - By Ellie Dean Page 0,2

Ernie’s arm with the other. Maisie could talk the hind legs off a donkey, and if they didn’t get away quickly, they’d be later than ever.

Their slow progress down the cracked and weed-infested pavement was made slower as the women came out of their houses to say goodbye, and the remaining children clustered round Ernie. Not all of them would be leaving London, but Sally and her mother had been forced to accept that Ernie’s incapacity meant he would be more vulnerable than most once the bombing started. It was also why he had to be accompanied – and as Florrie had flatly refused to leave London, Sally had no choice but to give up her job at the factory and go with him.

Ernie let go of her hand, and abandoned the walking stick as they came in sight of his school. He hurried off to join the swarm of chattering children, the calliper and thick special boot giving an added, stiff swing to his awkward gait.

Sally kept an eye on him as she joined the cluster of tearful women at the bus stop. If he got overexcited, his muscles cramped, and it would do him no good just before their long journey. With this thought she had a sharp moment of panic. Had she remembered his pills? She dipped into her coat pocket and let out a sigh of relief. The two little bottles were snug and safe.

‘I wish I were going with you,’ sobbed Ruby, her best friend. ‘But what with the baby to look after and me job at the factory …’

Sally rubbed her arm in sympathy. ‘Don’t worry, Rube. I’ll keep an eye on the boys for as long as I can – and we’ll all be back again soon enough. You’ll see.’

Ruby blew her nose, her gaze following the eight-year-old twins as they raced around the playground. ‘I’m gonna miss the little buggers and that’s a fact,’ she muttered, clasping the baby to her narrow chest. ‘The ’ouse ain’t gunna feel the same without ’em, especially now me old man’s gone off to war.’

Sally knew only too well how tough it was without a man in the house, but she could only imagine how hard it must be for her friend to have to send her children away. She was rescued from having to reply by the arrival of three buses. They pulled to a halt and a large, well-fed woman in a tweed suit and laced-up brogues climbed down from the leading bus. She took in the scene at a glance and clapped her hands before her plummy voice rang out.

‘Mothers, say goodbye to your children, and make sure they have their gas-mask boxes and identification discs, as well as their brown labels firmly attached to their clothing.’ Her stern gaze swept over the tearful, defeated faces. ‘I do hope you’ve managed to pack everything on the list. We can’t expect our host families to provide any more than they already are.’

Sally thought of the long, impossible list she’d been given, and knew she wasn’t the only one here that couldn’t manage to get even half the stuff the government seemed to think was necessary. After all, who could afford spare shoes and two sets of underwear when it was hard enough to put food on the table?

She stood back as the other women gathered up their children, kissing them, holding them tightly until the last possible moment. None of them knew when they would see each other again and, as realisation set in, the older children quietened, their fear and distress almost tangible as the little ones began to cry.

Sally battled with her own tears as she hugged Ruby, kissed the baby and ordered the twins to hold Ernie’s hands. She was aware of the envious glances of the others, and tried not to feel guilty. It wasn’t as if she’d had any choice in the matter.

‘Children,’ the woman called. ‘Form a line here, so I can check your labels.’ She shot a glance at Ernie’s calliper. ‘You must be Ernest Turner,’ she muttered, going through the list pinned to her clipboard. Her gaze travelled over Sally and a thick brow rose in disdain. ‘Are you his mother?’

Sally didn’t like the way the woman made her feel, and she returned her stare. ‘I’m ’is sister,’ she said firmly, ‘and we’re together. I’m also looking after these two,’ she added, indicating the twins who were jostling one another and sniggering.

‘This is most irregular.’ She