The Clippie Girls by Margaret Dickinson

stared at her and then sank down into a chair. ‘What d’you mean?’
    ‘We were bombed in the last war.’
    ‘Not – not here. Not in Sheffield.’
    Grace nodded. ‘Yes, here in Sheffield.’
    ‘But – but I didn’t think – I mean – how could their planes get this far?’
    ‘It was a Zeppelin raid. There were twenty-eight people killed and a lot injured.’
    ‘I – never knew. You’ve never said.’
    Grace shrugged. ‘We all wanted to forget about the war. The men who’d been to the Front would never talk about it. Your dad included. And we all wanted to put it behind us and believe what they said about it being the war to end all wars. This city lost a lot of men on the Somme and then, only just afterwards, we got bombed. No one was prepared – not really. They all thought the same as you’re saying – that they couldn’t reach us. But they did.’ Grace fell silent, lost in her own thoughts. Rose waited, biting her lip to stop the questions from tumbling out. Grace would carry on in her own time and at her own pace. She wouldn’t be hurried.
    ‘Of course your dad and mam weren’t married then. That was before he came home injured and your mam – oh well, enough said about that, I suppose.’
    ‘Tell me about the bombing,’ Rose whispered, morbidly fascinated. She didn’t want to hear about their city being attacked and yet she had to know.
    ‘The first bombs fell on the Burngreave Cemetery.’
    Rose gasped. ‘Where Dad and Grandad are buried?’
    Grace nodded.
    ‘But that’s not far away from here.’
    ‘I know. We – your mother and me – watched it from the bedroom window and then we realized they might come our way, so we went down into the cellar.’
    ‘So that’s how you know the cellar will be the safest place?’
    Grace nodded again, this time her face grim with unhappy memories. ‘And now Hitler’s overrun France, he can get right to the coast just across the Channel. Not only can he invade the south coast, but his bombers can probably reach every place in the British Isles.’
    Rose gaped at her grandmother. For once in her life, she could think of nothing to say.
    Grace turned back to her newspaper. ‘They’ve rescued over three hundred thousand men from Dunkirk,’ she said. ‘You can’t believe it, can you? France is lost, but we live to fight another day. I do hope Letty’s boy is all right. She hasn’t been round for a couple of days. Maybe there’s been bad news.’
    Never one to shirk an unpleasant task, Rose said, ‘I’ll go round.’
    She came back in only a few moments. ‘Letty’s in floods of tears – ’ Grace looked up sharply – ‘but it’s all right. They’ve just had news that Walter’s safe. He’s down south somewhere – but back in England. They’ve been desperately worried for several days ’cos they knew he’d just gone out there. She says – ’ Rose grinned in anticipation of her grandmother’s retort – ‘she’s sorry she hasn’t been round.’
    Grace glanced up at her granddaughter. ‘I know just what you’re thinking. That I’m going to trot out one of my famous sayings. “It’s an ill wind . . .” and all that, but even I wouldn’t wish that kind of worry on anyone, let alone my neighbour. Oh, I know she irritates the life out of me some days and her two boys are little devils, but we could have a lot worse as neighbours, Rose.’
    ‘Yes, Gran,’ Rose said dutifully, stifling her laughter, especially when she saw Grace’s mouth twitching as she tried to stop herself laughing too.
    A fortnight later one of Grace’s newspapers showed a picture of German soldiers riding on horseback up the Champs-Elysées.
    ‘How dreadful,’ Rose murmured, with tears in her eyes. She could picture such a scene happening here in her own city and shuddered at the thought.
    Although the rescue operation from Dunkirk had been magnificent, there were sadly many casualties too and one amongst them affected both Rose and Peggy.