Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) by Ellie Dean

nurse shook her head and Ivy sighed. ‘Oh well, there was no ’arm in asking, were there?’
    She slid off the table once the salve had been applied, and rolled down her trouser legs. With a glance at the clock on the wall she realised she’d wasted almost an hour of valuable earning time, so she hurried back into the factory, picked up a fresh can and got back to work.
    The days had sped past and now it was Wednesday: tonight would be the last time Jane would sleep at Beach View. It was a sobering thought, and Peggy knew how much Sarah was dreading their separation. A party was planned for this evening at the Anchor, so that was something to look forward to, but otherwise the day would be like any other, filled with work and responsibilities. As if to emphasise the fact, the sirens went off just as Peggy was about to dole out the morning porridge.
    There was a collective groan of frustration, and then everyone went into the routine that was almost second nature by now. As Harvey howled to the heavens and shot out of the back door, Ron carried the hot pot of porridge to the shelter along with bowls and spoons, while Rita helped Cordelia down the steps and along the garden path.
    Jane had already left for her last session at the dairy and Fran for the hospital, so it was left to Sarah to grab everyone’s overcoats and ease Daisy out of her high chair. Peggy threw the bread and margarine into the emergency box along with a sharp knife, spare box of matches and the little worn rug, and carried it out into the back garden.
    The corrugated-iron Anderson shelter huddled malevolently at the bottom of the garden by the flint wall. It was covered in earth which now sprouted with Ron’s spring vegetable seedlings, and was about as welcoming as a morgue. There were two steps down to the concrete floor from the narrow entrance and Ron had fixed wooden benches along the sides. A sturdy deckchair had been wedged into a corner beneath the arched roof so Cordelia could be comfortable during the long hours they’d had to spend in here, and if she fell asleep, which she often did, she was kept from sliding out of it with two fat pillows.
    The overriding smell of the shelter was an earthy damp, and no matter what Ron did, he couldn’t stop water from dripping down the metal walls onto the floor where it lay in dirty puddles. Peggy had done her best to make it cosy with a paraffin heater, a tilley lamp and gas ring, but sitting huddled in there for hour upon hour was not a favourite pastime for any of them.
    There had been some discussion over whether they should invest in a Morrison shelter, which was a large, cage-like structure of steel, wood and wire that could be erected indoors. However, no one liked the idea of being trapped in such a thing should the house fall down around them, and once Ron had pointed out that, with so many people to accommodate, it was also impractical, they’d suppressed their dislike for the Anderson shelter, accepting it was better than nothing.
    They crowded in and shut the door as the sirens wailed and Harvey howled piteously. There was very little room to manoeuvre, for the benches left only a narrow aisle in the middle, and the far end of the shelter was lined with shelves that were laden with tin mugs and plates, spare candles, old magazines, a large canister of fresh water, a kettle, and a can of paraffin to restock the heater.
    Peggy put the box down on a bench as Ron mopped up the puddles on the floor and Rita settled Cordelia in her chair, pulling a blanket over her knees and hands to keep off the chill. Daisy wriggled and screamed in protest as Sarah tried to get her into the specially adapted cot that served as protection against any gas attack, and as the high-pitched noise rang through the metal shelter it even managed to drown out the sound of the sirens.
    Peggy winced. ‘Let her be, Sarah. It’s too early in the morning for that sort of racket, and she’s getting too big to put in it,