Memories tumbled into Shelly’s head, she must have been six or seven when her great-grandmother would gather herself up and struggle onto Shelly’s bed. There, they would listen to story tapes, transported into the worlds of Jungle Book, The Borrowers, Charlotte’s Web, and The Snowman.

Those stories were sorely missed when Gran Gertie went into the residential home. She felt a rush of love, tinged with pain at the memory.

With sudden yearning to hear Gran Gertie’s voice, she fetched the tape player and listened to the next episode of her great-grandmother’s memoirs.

*

Half an hour later, stunned by what she had just heard, Shelly sat on the edge of the old bed and gawped at the cassette player.

Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

GERTIE

Dover, 1915.

AFTER THE MINCE PIE INCIDENT, Father had the cellar cleared out and put a few essentials down there, like water and candles and a couple of old chairs just in case Kaiser Bill got more accurate with his mortars. The exercise meant that Mother could rest assured; whatever the war brought upon us, her husband and children would be safe.

When another explosion rocked our house a week later, Father ordered, ‘Everyone down to the cellar, we’re being attacked!’

We lifted the trapdoor and hurried down the wooden steps. After an hour with no more disturbance, Mother, Father, Mrs Cooper and I emerged with a list of things we needed if the worst happened again. A primus stove, books, crayons, paper, a jigsaw, blankets, a bucket, another jug of water.

That incident had been the first of nine thousand German bombs that fell from planes onto British soil in the Great War.

*

Who could have foreseen the way our lives changed over the next two years? The war gained momentum. Fokkers and Zeppelins flew over Britain dropping their payloads of bad-will and bombs. National conscription started. The government insisted that all able-bodied men join up, and Sissy’s dream of being a nurse became a reality. Her letters were terrifically inspiring. Whenever I felt lonely, I’d go and sit under the big oak tree and study her correspondence. Her sense of glee shone off the page as I read.

Gertie, you’re terribly lucky! How everything is changing for us women. We can become anything we choose, and isn’t that absolutely spiffing? Can you imagine how terrific it would be to drive a bus, Gertie? You must imagine, yes, imagine, because that is the first stage of accomplishing your dreams. Or, you could learn to be a welder, dear sister, or a brick layer, or at worst, go and work in a factory. Stay away from the munitions factories, though. They’re awfully dangerous.