The Sky is Falling (3 page)

“Good-night, children, everywhere,” said the voice from the wireless.

“Good-night, Uncle Mac,” said Gavin solemnly, as he always did.

“Dad,” whispered Norah nervously, after the news was over and while Mum was still in the scullery. There was something she had to find out, even though it scared her to ask. “Do you know if they found the pilot?”

Dad gave her a warning glance, the one that meant
Don't Worry Your Mother. “Yes,” he murmured. “They picked him up near Woodchurch. He was wounded, poor lad—gave himself up easily.”

Norah's chest felt lighter. At least she didn't have to worry about him wandering into their village.

Of course, if Hitler invaded Britain, as everyone thought he might, a
lot
of Nazis might come into Ringden—even into Little Whitebull! That thought made Norah feel choked up again and she shifted irritably. What was the matter with her? She had never been afraid before.

Her father stood up and stretched. “Time to get changed.” He caught his wife's eye before he added, “Don't make any plans for the morning, Norah. Your mother and I want to discuss something with you. And I'll help you finish your kite tomorrow, Gavin, since it's Saturday.”

“Can I stay up and listen to ‘ITMA'?” Norah asked desperately. If he said no, everything would be ordinary.

“I don't see why not,” said Dad gently.

After he left, dressed in his World War I uniform and carrying a shotgun, Norah made herself into a tight ball in his chair. Her suspicions were growing to a terrible certainty.

Before she had time to ponder further, the back door opened again and a tubby man with a snowy fringe around his otherwise bald head struggled in, loaded with packages and suitcases.

“Grandad!” shouted Norah and Gavin.

“Father! What on earth are
you
doing here?”

The old man chuckled as he let his luggage drop. He lifted Gavin into the air. “Bombed out! The drafted Hun put one right through my roof! All rubble, my dears, all rubble. So I've come to stay with you.” He bent over to Norah and tickled her cheek with his stiff moustache. “What do you think of that, my fierce little soldier?”

Mum sank to a chair. “Bombed out … Father, are you all right? Are you hurt?”

“Don't fret, Janie. I'm right as rain, because I wasn't at home when they called. Came back from the pub to find a flattened house. So I just packed up what I could find and got on the bus. Better to live inland anyhow—the salt air was bad for my rheumatism.” His sea-blue eyes sparkled under his droopy white eyebrows. “Got enough room for your old dad?”

“You know we have—we'd always give you a home. But you could have been killed! Oh, Father, this bloody war …”

Norah froze, shocked, as her mother, whom she had never seen cry, began to shake with sobs. Her mouth trembled and the tears slid over her thin cheeks as her weeping grew louder.

“
Don't,
Muv!” cried Gavin, pulling on her arm. “Did you hurt yourself?” Mrs. Stoakes pulled him onto her knee and clutched him to her, burying her face in his neck. Gavin looked scared and tried to free himself.

“Now, now, Jane, enough of that.” Grandad patted his daughter's shoulder awkwardly. “I
wasn't
killed. Never felt
more alive, in fact. Nothing like a close call to make you see things in perspective! We'll weather this war out together now—that's how it should be, the whole family in one place.” He released Gavin from his mother's grasp. “If you search my pockets, you might find a sweetie.”

“To avoid watching her mother, Norah turned to the fire and lifted the heavy kettle of water onto the grate. She had never made tea on her own befoe, but she'd seen Mum do it often enough. When the water boiled she poured it carefully over the leaves and filled the cups with milk, sugar and tea. She offered one to Mum and one to Grandad.

“Norah, what a help!” Mum's tears had stopped and she gave a weak smile. “What would I do without you?” Then she looked as if she might cry again.

Norah poured herself a cup, surprised her mother hadn't said anything about using some of tomorrow's rations. They all sat around the kitchen table and, to her relief, the adults began to talk normally.

Norah stared incredulously at Grandad, hardly daring to believe he was here. The war was shifting people around too rapidly. Some, like Molly and Muriel and Tibby, suddenly went away; others turned up unannounced and homeless. A few days ago the whole of Mrs. Parker's brother's large family had arrived on her doorstep. Their house in Detling had been bombed and they, too, had been lucky enough to be out when it happened.

Norah's throat and chest constricted with fear as she thought of Grandad's cottage, the one where she'd spent
her summers, flattened to rubble. But Grandad was safe, and it would be wonderful to have him living with them. She wondered what Dad would think. Although Mum and Grandad often argued, they thrived on it. Dad was always polite, but Norah knew he and the old man didn't agree on much.

Grandad winked at Norah. “Now we'll have a good time, eh young ones?”

Norah winked back. She climbed onto Grandad's knee and began to tell him about the plane.

Later that night a commotion downstairs woke her up. Dad had arrived home and was exclaiming about finding Grandad there. Norah lay rigidly in bed, listening to the usual murmur of worried adult voices. Then Grandad's rose above the rest, angry and accusing. She couldn't make out his words but the stubborn strength in his voice cheered her up. If her parents were telling him the decision she dreaded, Grandad was on her side.

4

“I Won't Go!”

T
hey told her after breakfast. Mum had sent Gavin over to play with Joey, who lived across the road. Norah was dismayed when Grandad went out as well, a furious expression on his face.

She was invited to sit down in the front room. Muriel insisted on calling it the “drawing room”. It was only used on special occasions—when Muriel and Tibby entertained their young men, or when the vicar came to tea. The flimsy chairs were too stiff to be comfortable, as if they proclaimed “only serious matters are discussed here.”

Norah tipped back her chair and waited. Mum had just polished the windows and a faint whiff of ammonia came from them. For the rest of her life, Norah would never smell ammonia without a flutter of panic.

Dad began speaking in such a cheerful voice that she wanted to scream. “Well, Norah, you and Gavin are going to have a great adventure!”

“No—”
said Norah at once, but he waved her to be still. “Hold your horses! Just listen for a moment, then you can have your say. You're going to travel on a big
ship … all the way to Canada! Canadian families have offered to provide homes for British children until the war is over. Your mother and I would feel much more at ease if we knew you and Gavin were safe. And what an opportunity for you, to go overseas, to learn about another country …”

His voice faltered at Norah's expression. Mum looked as stricken as she was.

“I know it's upsetting,” Dad continued gently, “but I think you knew we were considering it.”

Of course she had known. After France had fallen in June, all the grown-ups had talked about sending the children away. That was when Molly and Pete had gone. She'd heard Dad read aloud the newspaper notice about applying for overseas evacuation, but she was too worried to ask if they'd actually done it. A few days later Dad had asked casually, “Norah, if you could visit another country, which one would you prefer—Australia, New Zealand, South Africa, or Canada …”

“None of them!” Norah had cried.

Then Norah and Gavin had had their photographs taken in Gilden. Norah had wondered why.

But after that, for a long time, nothing more had been said. She had almost forgotten about it in the growing excitement of the war. The possibility of being sent away had festered under the surface, however, and now at last it had burst open like a ripe boil. For a few seconds Norah sat in stunned disbelief. Then she jumped up, knocking over her chair.

“I won't go!”

“Calm down,” said Dad. He reached out his arm, but Norah brushed it aside. Dad sighed. “Listen to me, Norah. You've had an easy, sheltered life up to now. Now we're asking you to do something difficult. I know you can—you've always been my bravest girl.”

“But I don't
want
to!” She was astounded that they would force her. “I don't want to go away to another country and leave you! I'd miss you! I'd miss out on the war! It's braver to stay here, not to run away! And children are
useful
. I watch for paratroopers every day, just like the Observer Corps. I helped pull up the signposts. And I'll do some of the housework so Mum can spend more time at the hall. I'll think of something for Gavin to do, too. I'll—I'll teach him to knit!”

Mum looked close to tears again. “Oh Norah, Norah, of course you don't want to go. I wish so much you didn't have to. But don't you see how going would be helping the war? You'd free Dad and me from worrying about you. And …” She paused, as if she weren't sure she should go on, “and if worse comes to worse, at least two members of the family will be safe and … free.”

“And you'll be like ambassadors!” broke in Dad. “You'll meet children from another country and promote international understanding. That's the best way I can think of to end war …”

“Have you told her?” Grandad stood in the doorway, wiping his shining forehead with his handkerchief.

Mum turned to him impatiently. “Father, we said
we wanted to be alone with Norah! Yes, we've told her—but we haven't finished. Please wait until we have.”

But Grandad came into the room, muttering, “I'm part of this family too.” He pulled Norah onto his knee and Norah's spirits lifted. Just in time!

With an irritated glance at Grandad, Dad continued to explain to Norah why it would be safer if she and Gavin left England.

“What will
Hitler
think if we start fleeing the country?” interrupted Grandad. “We're supposed to be sticking together and fighting!”

“Norah and Gavin are only children,” said Dad patiently.

“Then what will he think about us panicking so much that we send away our children? I suppose you'll send
me
next! Get rid of the young and the old! We're useless, so send us away!”

“Father!” Mum turned bright pink. “They're our children—let
us
decide, and stop interfering. If you can't keep quiet, then leave the room.”

Grandad scowled at her, but he shut up. He and Norah listened to the rest of Mum and Dad's reasonable arguments. And, slowly, Norah realized that they had lost. Grown-ups could always make children do what they wanted them to. She felt Grandad give a long sigh. Old people had to do what grown-ups decided, too.

Norah slid down to the floor, drew her feet up and clutched her knees to her chest. Her eyes prickled but she forced them wide open—she would
not
cry.

Desperately, she tried one last argument. “Even the princesses aren't being evacuated!” she protested. “The Queen said in the paper that they wouldn't send them out of the country—Tom's mum read it to us.” Norah had always felt a special link with Princess Margaret Rose, who was almost her age. She was sure Margaret Rose had refused to go, and that's what had convinced the King and Queen.

But Mum and Dad just smiled, the way they did when they thought Norah was being amusing. “The princesses are in a safe part of the country somewhere, not right in the path of an invasion as you are,” said Dad. “And a large number of well-off children
have
been sent overseas. Why should they be the only ones? Now the government has finally decided to pay for those who can't afford it.”

Norah felt small and lost and wounded.

“You must have some questions,” Dad prompted.

“When do we go?” she asked weakly.

“On Monday. Mum will take you to London, and an escort will meet you there. I wish it wasn't so sudden, but they only let us know a few days ago.”

“There will be lots of other children with you,” said Mum. “It will be like a church picnic! And the Smiths are going too, so you'll have someone from your own village along. Derek can keep an eye on all of you.”

“Where—where shall we
live
in Canada? How long will we have to stay?”

“You'll be living somewhere in Ontario,” Dad told her. “I believe it's the largest province. You won't know
who you'll be staying with until you get there, but I'm sure they'll be good people. Anyone who offers to do this must be kind. And we don't know for how long …” He looked apologetic. “Perhaps a year.”

A
year
? When they came home she would be eleven! And leaving the day after
tomorrow
?

Dad was watching her. “Norah, I think that's enough to absorb for now. You go out and play and we'll talk about it again later. Send Gavin home, will you? I don't know how much he'll understand, but he has to be told.”

As Norah left, her parents were arguing with Grandad again, but his voice sounded old and defeated. It was no use. They were sending her away and there was nothing she could do about it.

5

Too Many Goodbyes

“
B
ut you
can't
!” Tom cried.

“I have to. I told them all the reasons they shouldn't send me, but they don't understand.”

The four Skywatchers sat in gloomy silence. They were used to grown-ups not understanding.

“Do you—do you think I'm a coward?” Norah asked Tom. She couldn't bear it if he did.

“Of course not—you don't want to go. But it's a rotten shame.” Tom glanced at the two wide-eyed little boys. He looked deflated. “Everyone's leaving! First Pete and Molly and the Fowlers, and now you. How are we going to keep up our work with just three of us?”