chives from the box he’d made to fit beneath the basement window at the front of the house. His tiny herb garden was flourishing, but the tomatoes were his pride and joy, brought on beneath sheets of glass close to the side garden wall where the sun shone for most of the day. He saved every last drop of used water to keep them and all his vegetables alive.
There was no fat, so Sally dry-fried the mince, chopped sausages and onions while the potatoes boiled. Anne made a sauce with the tomatoes, adding the parsley and chives, some pickled cabbage and a pinch of salt to give more flavour. There was no pepper – it had long since run out and was now affectionately called white gold by the beleaguered grocer whose shelves were becoming emptier by the day.
Cissy laid the table before helping Mrs Finch unravel a particularly large knot in her knitting. The old lady was quiet for once, her expression sad and thoughtful, and Sally wondered if she was remembering the last war, and the husband she’d lost at Ypres. Jim’s descriptive storytelling must surely have conjured up such memories.
The girls worked silently, keeping their thoughts to themselves as the boys disappeared into the basement to play with their train set. But none of the usual bursts of laughter came from down there – it seemed they were all affected by the terrible events of the past week.
Jim didn’t come downstairs for the evening meal, and Peggy assured them he was fast asleep and would probably stay that way until morning. He was exhausted.
‘I tried that number again, Sally,’ she said a while later. ‘Still no reply. I’m sorry, dear.’
Sally nodded and helped Anne clear the dishes and tidy away while Peggy put the boys to bed. In an attempt to dispel the terrible dread, she made a game of carrying Ernie upstairs for his wash. They had become used to having a nightly bath, and Ernie always looked forward to it, but they were encouraged to save water now, so they bathed once a week in the few inches allowed, Sally climbing in after Ernie had finished. Tonight it would be a lick and a promise with a damp flannel for both of them, and a few drops of water in a mug to rinse their toothbrushes.
Having massaged him with the last of the oil, she wrapped him in his pyjamas and snuggled him into bed. She sat in the chair and waited for him to fall asleep, wondering if he’d have nightmares. She could hardly blame Jim, but his description had been all too graphic, and she knew without a doubt that she’d have a disturbed night because of it.
The news was about to start as she returned to the kitchen and, with a nod of welcome to Pearl and Edie who’d just come in and were eating the warmed-up plates of food, she settled down to listen. Silence fell as the deep, well-educated and familiar voice came from the wireless and into the room.
Operation Dynamo had been a resounding success due to the bravery of the Royal Navy, the RAF, and the many civilians who’d risked their lives to bring the men home safely. They had rescued almost six hundred thousand men from the beaches of Dunkirk, Cherbourg, Saint Malo, Brest and Saint Nazaire.
But in his speech to the House of Commons that afternoon, Churchill had tempered his praise for this success by saying that, although huge numbers of men had been rescued, and the bravery of the rescuers was in no doubt, it had been a ‘colossal military disaster’ – and that wars weren’t won by evacuations.
There had been a huge number of casualties, and the British Expeditionary Force had had to abandon vital heavy armour and equipment that would be needed in the coming months. With over five thousand dead, Dunkirk reduced to rubble, two hundred and thirty-five vessels and one hundred and six aircraft destroyed, the consequences of this evacuation could not be yet determined.
Sally saw how Anne paled, and held tightly to her hand. ‘Martin will ring when he can,’ she whispered. ‘He’s probably being debriefed and can’t get away.’
‘I know, but …’ She didn’t need to say any more, and Sally squeezed her fingers in empathy.
The news ended with a speech from Prime Minister Churchill, who darkly warned the nation to brace itself for another blow. ‘We are told that Herr Hitler has a plan for invading the British