The Clippie Girls by Margaret Dickinson Page B

half darkness of the summer night. ‘We only want you and Gran to sign up and we’d have a full house.’
    But there was no sound from the next bed. Myrtle was one of those fortunate people who, the moment their head touched the pillow, fell fast asleep.
    Rose was left staring into the darkness and praying that by morning Myrtle would have forgotten all about her hasty retort regarding Bob.
    Towards the end of the school summer term, Myrtle had taken her School Certificate and had passed with the highest grades possible in all her subjects. Her family was justifiably proud of her. During the holidays she took over more of the household chores when Mary became a fully fledged clippie too, but Myrtle’s studies were not laid aside completely. Before the end of term she had ascertained the literature books she would need for the sixth form and, through the long, hot summer days, read all of them – and more.
    The sound of the air-raid sirens was becoming part of the city’s everyday life. There had been numerous false alarms and, even though there had been one or two minor raids, the public became blasé about the warnings and just carried on with whatever they were doing until they heard the sound of planes overhead.
    ‘You must not ignore the sirens,’ Laurence instructed his staff. ‘You should get all your passengers to the nearest public shelter on your route whenever you hear the warning.’ The motormen and the clippies did their best, but so many of their passengers refused to go into the shelters and grumbled if the tram stopped.
    ‘It’s nowt but a false alarm, love,’ many a traveller would say. ‘Just get us home.’
    But one Thursday evening towards the end of August, Peggy and Rose returned home looking worried and agitated.
    ‘Is Mam home?’
    ‘Not yet. Why?’
    The sisters glanced at each other and began to speak at once.
    ‘She—’
    ‘We—’
    Catching their anxiety, Grace crumpled the newspaper she was reading onto her knee. ‘What? Is there something you’re not telling me?’
    ‘No, no,’ Peggy said at once. ‘We just wanted to know she was all right, that’s all.’
    ‘Why shouldn’t she be?’ Grace’s eyes narrowed. ‘There is something, isn’t there? Come on, out with it.’
    ‘It’s just that we thought she might have been on the route today near where the bombs fell.’
    Grace’s wrinkled face turned pale. ‘What bombs?’
    ‘Didn’t you hear the sirens? Didn’t you go down into the cellar?’
    Grace looked sheepish. ‘We thought it was another false alarm.’
    ‘Well, it wasn’t. Not this time,’ Peggy said shortly. ‘You should really be more careful, Gran.’
    ‘And did you get all your passengers into a shelter?’ Grace retorted defensively.
    ‘They refused to go. Like you, they thought it wasn’t serious. But when we heard the bombs dropping, they shot out of the car and down the nearest shelter like rats down a drainpipe.’
    ‘I’m going back to the depot,’ Rose said, ‘to find out what’s happened and where Mam is.’
    ‘I’ll come with you—’
    ‘No,’ Grace said. ‘You stay here – with me, Peggy.’
    The sisters glanced at each other and then looked back at their grandmother. Though she would never have admitted it in a million years, they could both see that Grace was frightened and fearful of news that might be brought to her door. She didn’t want to be alone to hear it.
    ‘Myrtle’s here, isn’t she?’
    Grace ran her tongue round her dry lips and nodded. ‘But she’s only a kid. Besides, she’s upstairs in her bedroom reading. She says she can’t concentrate down here.’ Grace smiled wryly. ‘Says I keep talking to her. She’s right. I do.’
    ‘She’ll be sat on her bed reading.’ Rose knew Myrtle’s habits.
    There was a tense silence in the room until Grace said, ‘Off you go, Rose. Go and find your mam.’ Beneath her breath, she muttered, ‘If you can.’
    As Rose hurried out, Peggy said, ‘I’ll make a