The Girl With No Name by Diney Costeloe Page B

have infiltrated themselves into English life, people will be very suspicious if they hear you speaking German. English only from now on.’
    Harry knew, too, that speaking German was asking for trouble.
    ‘Never going to speak it again,’ he told Lisa. ‘Not my lingo. I’m English now. Heinrich Schwarz don’t exist no more, just plain Harry Black.’
    Lisa agreed with him and unless they were entirely alone, they spoke only English together. Even so there was still the bond between them; they had known what it was like ‘before’. Lisa had written to Cousin Nikolaus again, but had received no reply and Harry was her only link with her previous life.
    War was sweeping through Europe both on land and at sea. British troops had been sent as an expeditionary force to support France and Belgium. Despite the valour of the Royal Navy, British merchant ships bringing much-needed food to Britain were being sunk by the German U-boats. Rationing was introduced in January, of butter, sugar and bacon, and Naomi took all three ration books to be registered at the local shops.
    Life at home with the Federmans had settled into a comfortable routine, Lisa going happily enough to school each day. Naomi had started work in a nearby clothing factory where they made service uniforms. She spent most of her days sitting at a sewing machine, putting sleeves into uniform jackets for the army. It was very boring work, but she enjoyed the company of the other girls and the camaraderie within the workshop and it pleased her that she was doing valuable war work. Dan had agreed that she should take the job, though he didn’t really approve of his wife going out to work.
    ‘It’s a poor show if I can’t keep my own wife,’ he said when she told him what she wanted to do.
    ‘You know I wouldn’t if there wasn’t a war on,’ she replied, ‘but I want to do my bit like everybody else, don’t I? Everyone has to do something.’
    ‘I know, girlie, and I’m proud of you! But just while the war’s on, eh?’
    Uncle Dan was out with his taxi. As a cabbie at the outbreak of war, his livelihood had been restricted by the immediate introduction of petrol rationing. However, the government, realising that taxis were an important form of transport, allowed the cabbies three gallons a day, so he was still able to ply his trade. As petrol rationing bit harder, more and more people were giving up their cars, putting them up on blocks; public transport of all sorts was needed and he was just able to make a living.
    He was pleased that he still had his cab. Other taxis had been requisitioned to be converted into fire engines or ambulances.
    ‘Cabs are built strong, see,’ Dan explained to Naomi. ‘Old Malcolm, you remember Old Malcom?’ Naomi nodded. ‘Well, he’s had his took away and they’ve stuck a ladder on the roof and put hoses in the luggage space. Part of the fire brigade now!’
    ‘But what about Malcolm?’ Naomi asked. ‘Does he still drive it?’
    ‘No, he’s too old. A specially trained bloke does now. Some of the other drivers still do, cos they have the Knowledge. They know quick ways to get to places, specially if the roads get blocked, so they’ve been trained as auxiliary firemen, then they can drive their cabs.’
    Naomi came home at the end of each day tired and stiff, so Lisa always helped make the family tea in the evening. When she got home from school she would peel potatoes or prepare vegetables and when Naomi got in the two of them would work companionably in the kitchen, often listening to the wireless.
    Lisa’s English had come on by leaps and bounds and she could now hold a proper conversation and with extra help from Miss May, she was learning to read and write English too. One evening Dan came home with the Daily Mirror . He sat down at the kitchen table and spread it out in front of him.
    ‘Now then, Lisa, me duck,’ he said. ‘You come and read the paper to me.’
    ‘I can’t,’ Lisa said in dismay,