The Sky is Falling (5 page)

Norah was introduced to a fat, flustered woman called Miss Nott. “I'm your train escort,” she explained. She consulted a list. “Is this all the Kent and Sussex children? Say goodbye, then—we must go on board.”

The train waited, a snorting black dragon. Norah gulped and took her mother's hand.

“Oh, Norah …” Mum smoothed Norah's hair, refastened it at the side, and pulled down her felt hat. “Hang onto your coats carefully,” she said. “Remember that your
five pounds and your papers are sewn inside.” She kissed Norah's forehead. “Make sure you both clean your teeth every night.” All she said to Gavin was a choked “Goodbye, pet—you take care of Creature.” Then she helped him on with his rucksack and put his hand in Norah's.

“Come on,” muttered Norah, pulling Gavin's arm as Miss Nott beckoned.

“Are we going on the other train now?” asked Gavin with delight. They were whisked into the compartment with the rest of their group and couldn't get close enough to the window to wave goodbye.

6

“Are We Downhearted?”

T
he eight children under the charge of Miss Nott were crammed into one compartment. Derek was the eldest and Gavin the youngest. Two of the children across from Norah were boys around Lucy's age. They had brought along cards, and Lucy and Gavin joined their game of snap on the floor. The other stranger was a cheerful older girl called Margery. She tried to talk to them, but Dulcie was too shy to answer and Norah didn't feel like being friendly.

She read all her comics, and then there was nothing to do. She couldn't even look out the window, which had been closed and blacked out for the evening. “Do you know where we're going?” she asked Derek. He was also being unsociable, his face hidden behind his book.

Derek looked insulted at being spoken to by someone his sister's age. “Liverpool, I imagine,” he said shortly, in the posh accent he'd picked up at his school.

They all ate their sandwiches, and the compartment became a smelly mess of greasy papers, crumbs and spilt milk. Miss Nott and Margery darted around trying to
tidy up. Then Miss Nott's plump figure swayed in the corridor while she led a singalong: “Run Rabbit Run”, “Roll Out the Barrel” and “There'll Always Be an England”. Dulcie joined in dutifully, but Norah refused.

The singing began to falter as the children grew drowsy. Gavin fell asleep and Norah tried to pull her cramped arm from under him. Finally she dozed off herself, the train's chant intruding into her dreams: Don't
want
to go, don't
want
to go, don't
want
to go …

T
HEY ARRIVED IN LIVERPOOL
early in the morning. Miss Nott said goodbye, looking relieved to be free of them. The dazed and hungry children were driven to a hostel at the edge of the city where they spent the next few days, eating at long tables and sleeping in long rows on straw pallets on the floor. The hostel filled up with children from all over Britain, many with strong accents that were hard to decipher. Norah began to feel like a performing puppet. Again and again she was asked to follow someone, to get ready for bed, to get up, to eat, to play games and to sing rousing songs.

On the first day a doctor examined her and pronounced her “scrawny but fit”. The next morning an earnest and important-looking man told the assembled children, as Dad had, that they were little ambassadors. “When things go wrong, as they often will, remember you are British and grin and bear it. Be truthful, brave, kind and grateful.”

Norah stored this advice at the back of her mind along with all the other she had received and promptly forgot it.
The only person's she followed was Mum's: she carefully cleaned her teeth every evening. It was somehow soothing to do such a simple task.

As for looking after Gavin, she left that up to the women in charge. She waved to him in the morning and reminded him to clean
his
teeth at night. But she had too much to brood about to consider him in between. Besides, he wasn't making a fuss, although he looked bewildered and whispered a lot to Creature.

On the third morning they were taken on a bus to the wharves. It took most of the day to board the ship. First they were herded into a cavernous shed called the Embarkation Area. Hundreds of children raced about while harried-looking escorts tried to find their groups.

Norah's escort was Miss Montague-Scott. She was an enthusiastic, strong woman with springy brown curls, much livelier than the frazzled Miss Nott. Norah had already met her at the hostel; Miss Montague-Scott would take care of them all the way to Canada. There were fifteen children in her group, including Dulcie and Lucy, all of them girls. But now Miss Montague-Scott was leading Gavin up to them.

“Here she is! Norah, we've decided Gavin's too young to go with the boys. He'll stay with us and sleep in your cabin.”

Norah looked over her brother doubtfully; now she'd
have
to look after him. She'd never had to before; Mum or Muriel or Tibby always had.

Gavin's cheeks were as flushed as if he had a fever. “Are we going on the ship now, Norah? Will Muv and Dad be on the ship too?”

Oh
no
! Didn't he realize? Norah looked around frantically for Miss Montague-Scott, but she had hurried away to organize someone else.

She couldn't tell him—then he'd cry and everyone would expect her to do something. “Hold on to me, we're supposed to follow the others,” she muttered, ignoring his question.

A woman fastened a small hard disc stamped with a number around Norah's neck. Another official checked their identity cards and passports and made sure they didn't have too much luggage. Then someone collected all their gas masks. “You won't need these any more,” she smiled.

Norah clutched hers possessively. “Can't I keep it as a souvenir?”

“You have enough to carry,” said the woman. Norah handed over the cardboard case she'd taken with her everywhere for the past year. She was surprised to discover she felt attached to it; she'd always hated wearing her gas mask for school drills. It smelled like hot rubber and made her want to gag. But you could produce rude noises and spit by puffing into it, and once she'd sent her whole class into convulsions by pretending to blow its long “nose”. Without it she felt naked and vulnerable.

Miss Montague-Scott led her group to the wharf. They sat down and waited for hours to board the SS
Zandvoort
. Sandwiches were passed down the long lines of children, and then a man started them singing. Were they going to have to sing all the way to Canada?

“Come along, everyone,” the man exhorted through his megaphone. “Stand up and take some d-e-e-e-e-p breaths. Now, all together … ‘There'll
al
-ways
be
an
Eng
-land …'”

It sounded like a dirge. A group of boys behind them broke into the singing loudly: “There'll always be a SCOTLAND …” Norah turned around and grinned with surprise.

The leader looked startled, then he smiled too. “Good for you, boys, that's the spirit! Now, kiddies, you're about to start on a marvellous adventure. I see some sad faces in the crowd—that will never do. Are we downhearted?”

A few voices called out “No!”

“I can't hear you!
Everyone,
now—are we downhearted?”

“NO!” roared the children.

Dulcie was standing beside Norah; her hysterical scream pierced Norah's right ear. Again and again the man led the crowd to yell “NO!”

Norah pressed her lips tightly together. This was as bad as being asked to clap if you believed in fairies.

“That's much better!” laughed the jolly leader. “Now, before you sit down again—thumbs up! Come on, everyone, show me how!”

“Thumbs up, Norah!” said Dulcie, closing her fists and pointing her thumbs. She looked puzzled when Norah ignored her.

Finally they were allowed to walk up the gangway to the huge, grey ship. Norah sniffed in a mixture of tar, steam and salt water. In spite of herself, she felt a twinge of excitement. She'd never been on a ship before.

“Smile, everyone!” They were asked to lean over the railing, wave to the photographers and drone once again, “There'll Always Be an England”.

Norah held onto Gavin's small hot palm and took a last look at Britain. Everything was grey: the dirty water below, the smoking chimneys of Liverpool and the leaden sky. Slender beams of searchlights crisscrossed the dusk and high in the air floated the silvery, pig-shaped barrage balloons.

Then the engines thrummed, the whistles blew and the ship began to move. Norah turned her back on home and faced the other way.

7

The Voyage

N
orah and Gavin were assigned to the same cabin as Goosey and Loosey. “Isn't this nice for you!” boomed Miss Montague-Scott, popping her head in to tell them to get ready for bed. “Four friends from home bunking together!”

It was awful. Dulcie giggled as they banged into each other in the cramped space. Lucy complained because her nightdress was wrinkled. Worst of all was Gavin. He looked around the cabin frantically, then shook Norah's arm. “Where are Muv and Dad? Why haven't they come yet?”

Norah wanted to shake him. How could he be so dim? “They aren't
here,
” she said impatiently. “Don't be so silly. They're at home in Ringden and we're going to Canada without them.”

“Didn't you know that, Gavin?” said Lucy with all the superiority of someone seven years old. “We aren't going to see our mothers and fathers for a long,
long
time, not until the war is over.”

“Of course he knows,” snapped Norah. “Clean your
teeth, Gavin.” She tried to find their toothbrushes in the clutter.

But Gavin just sat on his bunk looking stunned. He fingered his elephant. “Creature said they would be on the ship,” he whispered.

“Well, they aren't.” He continued to sit passively, so Norah undressed him, put on his pyjamas and tried to tuck him into his bed.

“I want to sleep with you,” said Gavin in a small voice.

Norah tried to control her irritation. “Oh, all right.” It was difficult to find enough room for both of them in the narrow space, but finally they slept.

Norah woke up with a start a few hours later. Where was she? Her bed was vibrating and there was a low, humming sound. Then she remembered and moved her leg from under Gavin's. She brushed across a cold, wet patch.

“Gavin!” Norah sat up and shook him angrily. “Look what you've done!” She made him get up and stand shivering on the cabin floor while she stripped the sheets and covered the damp mattress with blankets.

“Gavin wet the be-ed, Gavin wet the be-ed,” crowed Lucy in the morning. “He's a
baby
.”

He did it every night. Because he insisted on sleeping with Norah, she made him curl up at the other end of the bed, but she still woke up every morning to the wetness. Miss Montague-Scott helped her rinse out the sheet and his pyjama bottoms every morning in the tiny sink, but
they never dried properly and she could never get it all out. Soon there was a perpetual sharp odour in the cabin, and Norah spent as much time as she could away from it.

Gavin followed her around like a lost puppy. After Norah had pulled his grey balaclava helmet over his head on the first windy day, he refused to take it off. He wore it to meals and even to bed. It made his round blue eyes look even larger and more frightened. He had become strangely silent and didn't even talk to Creature. Norah knew she should soothe him, but what could she say? She couldn't tell him they'd see their parents soon—they wouldn't. She couldn't think of anything comforting about Canada to offer him. And she couldn't help nagging him to stop being so babyish.

Then she got a reprieve. On the third day at sea, she and Gavin sneaked up to the upper-class decks. The government-sponsored children were supposed to stay below, but no one noticed if they didn't. Many of the children above were under five and several had mothers, nannies and other adults travelling with them. Norah found a place to sit beside a friendly looking mother with a baby in a carry-cot beside her.

“Hello, you two.” She smiled at Gavin. “Aren't you hot in that hat?”

Gavin shook his head, but he took out Creature for the first time since they'd boarded and held him up to the woman.

“What a very nice elephant. What do you call him?”

“Creature,” whispered Gavin.

The woman laughed. “That's an unusual name. Where does it come from?”

Norah explained how Gavin had named the elephant after the line in the Sunday school hymn: “All Creatures Great and Small.”

“He's very small for an elephant, you see,” said Gavin. “What's
your
name?”

“Mrs. Pym. And this is my little boy, Timothy. We're going to Montreal to live with Timothy's grandparents.”

After that, Gavin spent all his time trailing after Mrs. Pym. She didn't seem to mind; she even took him into meals with her and came down to kiss him good-night every evening. Norah felt vaguely guilty about abandoning him, but he seemed much happier with Mrs. Pym than he was with her.

Now that she was free of Gavin, she longed to spend the whole of each day exploring the ship. But Miss Montague-Scott had other ideas. You could tell she was a teacher; she seemed to forget that it was still the holidays. Some of the other escorts were lax and spent a lot of their time in the lounge or flirting with the officers, but Miss Montague-Scott made her group conform to the ship's schedule. First there were prayers, then a lifeboat drill, then a different activity each day: singalongs on the poop deck, art classes, spelling bees, Physical Training or memorizing poems. “No grumpy faces allowed in
my
group, Norah,” she cried heartily as they performed their morning jack-knives. “
One,
two,
one,
two …”