On the Saturday teatime, Peggy arrived just before they sat down to eat, with droplets of perspiration beading her top lip as she clunked her hand case down in the hallway, but luckily Ted had already got in an extra portion of fish and chips for her, as well as some raw fish scraps for somebody else.
This ‘somebody else’ was Peggy and Bill’s tabby puss Fishy, now unhappily corralled into a sturdy cat basket Barbara had borrowed from a neighbour. Fishy was frankly livid about the whole thing and she arrived at Jubilee Street making her presence felt by creating the devil of a racket, mewling loudly as she clawed at the opening to the cat basket that Peggy had lovingly placed her in.
Fishy was being evacuated too, although in nothing like as drastic a manner as Peggy and the children. She was going to be seeing the war out billeted with Ted and Barbara.
The government had requested recently that pet owners have their dogs, cats and other animals put to sleep, and the London vets had been furiously busy since the edict as their waiting rooms had been crammed with tearful owners not wanting to destroy their beloved pets but feeling they were in an impossible situation and that this was the only thing they could do.
Although it was Bill who was the real softie where cats were concerned, in recent months Peggy had become very fond of Fishy, the more so since Fishy would alternate some squeaky upper tones with deep bass purrs as on the marital bed they snuggled close together during their afternoon naps once Peggy had stopped work.
Peggy had made Ted and Barbara promise that they would do all that they could to avoid such an unnecessary end for the little tabby as she couldn’t bear the thought of putting down such a healthy animal so long before her natural time, and especially when she was such an affectionate creature as well as being an exceptionally good mouser.
‘Don’t worry, Peggy, we’ll look after ’er fer yer. An’ if anyone official asks about ’er, I’ll take ’er with me to the docks, as they always need ratters and mousers at the warehouses, and she can ’ave a fine ol’ time there as a working cat. I’ll do my best for ’er,’ Ted promised, ‘and it’ll be our way of thanking you for keepin’ an eye out for our Jessie and Connie.’
Peggy found Ted’s words very comforting.
She was worn out. Once Ted had lugged away the stuff for storage or passing on, Peggy had spent the rest of the Saturday afternoon cleaning the house that Bill and she had rented from top to bottom, making sure everything was left spick and span and so clean that any new tenant could quite literally have eaten their food straight off the floor if they were so inclined. Then Peggy had to deliver the keys back to her and Bill’s landlord before returning to collect Fishy who was basketed up and waiting on the doorstep to go to Jubilee Street, with Peggy’s packed hand case alongside.
And so by the time the Ross family was pulling up chairs to Barbara’s kitchen table on the Saturday teatime, with slices of bread already buttered and large pieces of hot battered cod and chips in newspaper waiting to be divvied up between them, Peggy was feeling tuckered out and pretty much at the end of her tether.
She was going to spend the Saturday and Sunday nights in Jessie’s bed, while across the bedroom Jessie was going to top-and-tail with his sister. Peggy urged Barbara not to bother about putting clean sheets on Jessie’s bed for her just for the two nights, but Barbara insisted and Peggy felt too exhausted to argue about it any further, and the moment she had given Fishy the fish scraps for supper she had an early night.
Fishy proved to be an excellent distraction for Connie and Jessie, who were growing increasingly fretful and tense as the enormity of what was about to happen to them – separation from all that they knew – was feeling very real now.
Ted tied some feathers to a bit of twine and showed the children how to get Fishy chasing after it. Fishy seemed to have boundless energy and was quite happy to play for a long while, the children encouraging her to run up and down the stairs with them. It proved a very good way for them all to let off steam, although possibly quite noisy for Peggy and her early night, and the result was the twins went to bed feeling a whole lot better than they had done before Fishy arrived, with the puss proving to have strong nerves after having had the chance to explore everywhere at number five.
Try as they might, Jessie and Connie couldn’t remember anyone ever sleeping over in their house, and once they were in their bedroom it felt very strange having somebody else under their roof for the night, even though of course they knew their Aunt Peggy well already.
The twins agreed, though, that it wasn’t as much fun as they had hoped it would be, as Barbara had strictly forbidden the twins from talking to each other in their bedroom, saying that Peggy needed her sleep and they were to wake her on pain of death only, and so they had to content themselves with making a great show of creeping about as they got ready to climb into bed.
They couldn’t help pressing their feet on each other’s when Fishy, now snuggled into Peggy’s back and feeling content with a full belly of the fish scraps that Ted had brought back for her, began to purr her squeaky purr more loudly than some people could snore.
In the morning, Jessie found Fishy sitting on his pillow staring intently at his face, presumably willing him to wake up.
Jessie looked back in silence at the tabby, and then carefully lifted in invitation the sheet and blanket that were covering him, to which Fishy gave Jessie a look as if to say, At last – I was really wondering what I was going to have to do to make you understand The Rules! as she sidled off the pillow and past his face to sneak under the bedclothes to nestle in a furry curl against Jessie’s ribcage, before they both fell asleep once more.
Just as Jessie drifted off he thought that it was like having a small and very comforting hot-water bottle pressed close to his chest.
In fact, everyone was still so all-in that by the time Monday morning came around every single person at number five Jubilee Street overslept. Such a thing had never happened before.
‘Barbara. Barbara! ’Ave you seen the time?’ said Ted in a muffled, dozy voice. The sun was already quite a way up, and the birds’ dawn chorus had quietened down to little more than an occasional chirp.
It was the clink of the glass milk bottles being delivered and the sound of the muffled feet of the horse pulling the milk cart that had roused Ted from his sound sleep.
His wife had been snoozing very deeply and clearly she hadn’t fully come to as she inched closer to Ted under the protective arm he had over her.
Ted thought about putting the war on hold and letting them all sleep in; it was very tempting.
But then he realised that if he allowed that to happen, Barbara would never forgive him, and so he whispered, ‘Barbara, it’s getting on – it’s not far off seven thirty.’
Seven thirty! A whole hour later than when Barbara had planned she would get up.
With a start of comical proportions, Barbara catapulted herself out of bed and ran from the room to bang loudly on the other bedroom door. ‘We’re late. WE’RE LATE!!’ she shouted.
Fishy was terrified by the unexpected cacophony in a still-strange environment, and she shot out of the bedcovers at the opposite end of the bed to where she had gone in, which unfortunately was right beside Connie’s face, as she sought refuge hiding in the furthest and darkest corner under the bed.
Connie felt a surge of panic and she heard herself giving an anguished squeal at the sight of something furry, grey and stripy shooting out of her bed at the rate of knots a mere inch or so in front of her nose.
Jessie sat bolt upright, and it took him a second or two to work out why, while it clearly was his familiar bedroom, it all looked so different and a bit like looking at