Popeye Never Told You Page 3

  but doesnt she realise theres nothing to stop the peacock escaping now?

  ‘go!’ she says to the butterfly and holds the jar up,

  and she shakes the jar,

  NO!

  but the peacock seems to like it in there, so she shakes it again,

  ‘help’ i whisper,

  and then he goes fluttering free, and i see the markings on his wings like big eyes, up above the elderberry tree and up above the old Shell oil shed,

  ‘well’ says Mike ‘thats the end of all our hopes’

  and he takes the empty jar from Di and he doesnt hit her, but i want to hit her, and he leads the way back upstairs, so the only thing to do is go indoors to tell Mum, but not me because i stay out in the yard leaning over the parapet and i spit down into the neighbours place and stare at peoples roofs and listen to the pips on the radio sets down there because its the BBC news, and its getting dark,

  and some swallows flit through the air above my head so i can hear the snip of their beaks, hunting

  but if you were here id like to ask you about Mikes idea when he says the world is spinning like a top, because i reckon things would fall off of Australia, but here in England they blow up instead,

  and this is our first time seeing a film at night but wouldnt you guess! right in the middle of everything the air raid sirens go off! damn damn! and the manager comes out on the stage in front of Tarzan whos still wrestling a crocodile and he tells us we have to make haste,

  ‘ladies and gentlemen’ he roars ‘do not panic’

  but everybody heads for the doors and the public shelter outside,

  ‘do not panic!’ people say and some of them laugh ‘watch out’ they say ‘i can see you panicking there!’

  and we move as quick as we can out into the street where the whole night sky is glowing, and Mum looks up at it,

  ‘Bristols burning’ she murmurs,

  so i keep hold of Dis sleeve or we are going to get lost among the legs and shoes and Mum says something to me but its hard to hear in all this racket, and now someone pushes down on my head and when i look its an old man and hes only got one arm but he leans on me like a walking stick,

  ‘watch out’ he tells the crowd around us ‘for the little chap down here under your feet’

  and we shuffle forward waiting our turn,

  ‘another blitz!’ i tell Mike,

  but Mike says ‘no, London gets blitzed’

  ‘so do we’

  ‘no, this is just bombing’

  ‘its a blitz!’ i yell at him,

  and here we go down underground so everythings going to be alright,

  ‘don’t you ever listen?’ Mike says ‘the blitz is much bigger’

  but i know hes scared because he squeezes my hand,

  so into the shelter we go and lots of people are here already,

  now suddenly no ones holding my hand,

  ‘Mum!’ i shout,

  and here she is and she picks me up to carry me the rest of the way,

  ‘i don’t like it here’

  i tell her, ‘i know, darling’ she says,

  but we keep pushing in and the place is big and dim and Michael finds a bench for us to sit on up against the wall, but its uncomfortable and because of the awful stink i hold my nose,

  ‘pooh!’ says Di,

  and that starts me giggling so Mum puts me down,

  and people are sitting under rotten light bulbs in wire cages and they watch us while more people keep arriving down the steps, but at least weve got away from the din of those sirens,

  THUD, the first bomb happens,

  and Mum takes off one of her gloves so she can comb my hair with her fingers,

  and women with scarves tied round their heads get busy opening paper twists of boiled lollies to share around, and bent old men turn a wooden crate upside down and crouch around it and deal out some playing cards with knobbled fingers, and theres even a family loaded with blankets making beds down here,

  ‘lucky them’ i say because its cold,

  ‘poor darling’ says Mum ‘we were caught too far from home to fetch warm things’

  ‘im cold’

  ‘so am i’ Di says,

  ‘sos everybody’ says Mike,

  and theres Mrs Arbuthnot who smiles hullo and takes some knitting out of her bag and gets busy clicking away like mad and i swing my legs because my feet dont touch the floor and the lady next to Mum lights up a cigarette and gives one to Mum and they talk in quiet voices and puff away together, and i wish i had a cigarette too,

  THUD THUD,

  the explosions are so close the bench shivers and i can feel the shivers through my bottom, and now a whole lot of children rush down the steps and come clattering in, but they stop once theyre in the door so that the ones coming behind have to crowd up against them, and theyve got runny noses and theres this bossy woman who lines them up and she hunts around to find room for them to sit, but they still crowd together like idiots and ready for trouble too and they stick their hands in their pockets and sniffle, and she rolls her eyes at me when she sees me watching, but im not going to side with her,

  ‘are they orphans?’ i whisper to Mike,

  ‘i expect so’ Mike whispers back ‘evacuees’

  WHOMP!

  a crack zigzags down the wall from the ceiling to the floor and people point it out,

  ‘we shall be alright, see?’ says Mum ‘the walls holding up’

  but two little orphans start wailing and theyre girls and theyre smaller than me, and each ones got a label pinned on her jacket so maybe theyve been bombed out already and they wail and sob,

  ‘ssh, you two’ says the old bat ‘i shall be with you when i can’

  but Mum drops her cigarette on the floor and unfolds her handkerchief and she goes across to wipe their tears and she wipes their noses too and she tells them to blow, and afterwards she drops the handkerchief on the ground and leaves it there, but she lifts one child on each arm and brings them back to us, and their shoes make smudges on her skirt and i try to point this out while they settle their heads against her shoulders and bury their grubby faces in her fur collar, just where i want to be, and they turn their eyes up to look at her.

  6

  But this is our first parcel ever and it comes by post and its wrapped in cloth and sewn up with stitches and the label has lots and lots of stamps stuck all over it,

  ‘i bags the pink kangaroos’ i say,

  because theres a whole block of them,

  ‘you cant’ Diana says ‘theyve got to be shared out’

  ‘sez who?’ i say,

  ‘stamps are worth more in a block’ Mike explains to her ‘and thats a fact’

  and ‘i saw them first, so theyre mine’ i say ‘anyway i dont have any kangaroos in my album’

  Di yells at me ‘its not fair!’

  and i give her my tiger growl,

  ‘shut up, you two’ Mike says ‘or i shall take the whole lot for myself right now’

  and he would,

  ‘anyway’ he says ‘whats inside may be even better than the stamps’

  ‘what do you think it is, Mike?’ i ask,

  ‘havent the foggiest’

  ‘toys?’ says Di,

  he picks it up and thinks,

  ‘its too heavy for toys’ he says,

  ‘well’ i say ‘weve got to keep it safe till Mum gets home from work’

  so i weigh the parcel in my hands and i can feel a good strong box under the cloth but nothing rattles even when i shake it and nothing shifts about even when i tip it upside down,

  and Mike takes it off me and he places it right in the middle of the table,

  and we get on with the household chores but we stay close to it, so Di sweeps the lino around the table and i do the drying up with my back to the sink and Michael washes the dishes while he keeps looking over his shoulder,

  and at long last we hear the latch click down at the bottom of the outside stairs,
so Mums home and Di and i run across the yard to hurry her up, and at last she climbs to the top and we tell her,

  ‘this must be a food parcel from Australia’ Mum says,

  and the headache begins to clear from her face and she gets busy with scissors to cut the stitching and takes the cloth wrap off and opens the cardboard box inside,

  ‘you must shut your eyes’ Mum says ‘and take a lucky dip’

  so we all reach in,

  and Di fishes out a pot of jam,

  ‘melon and lemon’ Mum says,

  and this sounds really peculiar and then Mike gets a tin of pineapple, whatever thats like,

  but i only get tinned butter, so i lose,

  ‘butter is best of all’ Mum says and she gives me a squeeze ‘youre always the lucky one!’ and then she starts setting all the rest of the stuff out on the table and we get a good look at strange labels on tins of corned beef and weird stuff called asparagus and peanut butter and other things, and theres a note inside the parcel written by a typewriter that says sent with love and best wishes from Winifred,

  ‘is the fire lit in the lounge?’ says Mum,

  ‘yes’ i say and im hopping up and down,

  so we all troop in there with our toasting forks and some crumpets to try out the butter and the jam,

  but i still dont understand who Winifred is,

  ive stolen Mikes bunch of keys and theyre in my pocket and they feel huge and heavy banging against my leg when i run and Mikes going to brain me when he finds out, because keys are important,

  and we are out picking wild flowers when Di finds some cowslips and theyre her favourites and she offers one to Mum so she can smell it,

  ‘one day’ Mum says to her ‘youll remember this’ and Di holds Mums hand,

  next thing some man arrives wearing civvies and wheeling his brand new Raleigh bicycle across our yard,

  ‘hes a detective’ Mum explains ‘hes coming to stay’

  ‘why?’ i ask ‘is he an evacuee?’

  ‘no, but he has been billeted on us’

  and we all know what billeted means because its what happens to those orphans when families have to take them in and feed them and have to give them somewhere to sleep, and i watch him wheeling his bike right up to our door and he knocks though he can see us through the glass,

  ‘come in’ says Mum and she gives him a cup of tea straight off,

  ‘thank you’ he says,

  and he takes it and drinks standing up holding the saucer in one hand and the cup in the other, and his trenchcoats damp on the shoulders and the belt is tight round his waist and hes so huge the kitchen is full of cold air,

  ‘my name is Guy’ he tells us all,

  ‘why dont you have a label on?’ i ask him,

  ‘grown-ups dont need labels’ says Mum,

  ‘not even if theyre evacuees?’ i ask,

  but Mum just leads the way into the lounge room,

  ‘youll sleep here, Guy’ she says and shows him our settee,

  so he tries it out on the spot and when he lies down his feet hang out a long way off the end but he looks pleased and he doesnt seem to realise that this is half of our safety tunnel when theres an air raid and there will be no room for him in there with us under the piano keys because we are already too crowded,

  but Guy finds the right corner for putting his leather bag and he has come to stay, so i show him the gas meter,

  ‘it only takes shillings in the slot’ i explain ‘and you have to turn this knob till you hear the coin fall down inside’

  and he pops a couple in,

  ‘its too soon’ i tell him because he hasnt used any gas yet,

  and Guy ruffles my hair but Michael gives me a furious look,

  ‘it will be a comfort to have a man around the house’ Mum says,

  and straight away he gets to work fixing the bent gas tap on the stove, the very job weve struggled with ever since it happened when Diana and i dropped that pot full of cold water we were lifting and made a terrible mess that took a lot of mopping up,

  Guy is setting off to work so he hoists his new bike on one shoulder to carry it down the stairwell and weve come out to lean over the parapet and watch him down there wheeling it away along the lane,

  ‘where does he go?’ Di says,

  ‘what does he do?’ i say,

  ‘he must be part of the war effort’ Mike says,

  ‘but what does he do?’

  ‘well’ says Mike ‘detectives solve crimes’

  ‘what crimes?’ i say,

  ‘any crimes’ says Mike,

  ‘but why does he solve his crimes here?’ i say,

  ‘you are going to drive me up the wall!’ Mike groans, so it must be a puzzle and puzzles are what i like best in all the world,

  pissing is a naughty word but not the worst one i know,

  ‘cuckoos are special’ Mike explains ‘because they push their brothers and sisters out of the nest’ and he gives us a good hard look,

  but we squat in this field and we are too busy picking mushrooms, and thats definitely a cuckoo we can hear calling,

  ‘its the first sign of spring’ says Mum straightening up and pushing her hands against her back,

  and somewhere way away in the woods the cuckoo calls cuck-oo again,

  and Mums home early but she ticks us off,

  ‘i wont have you children being rude to Guy’ she says,

  ‘but hes always here!’ Mike says ‘he never leaves us in peace!’

  ‘Mr Churchill gives us no choice’ she says,

  and we know its Mr Churchill who gave her her job,

  ‘hes always listening and looking’ says Di,

  ‘well, hes detecting’ Mike explains,

  so that gives me a creepy feeling because perhaps he can detect when im afraid of him,

  ‘it could be a lot worse’ Mum says,

  though she doesnt explain how,

  and in he comes just when weve begun to laze around and stare into the fire,

  ‘righto, kids’ he says ‘out in the yard for some cricket practice’

  and i like playing catch, though Mike pretends he doesnt,

  ‘have you ever been a soldier, Guy?’ i ask him,

  he shakes his head,

  ‘soldiers are lucky’ Guy tells me with a wink ‘because they escape their families’

  and i dont understand, but theres a wind getting up and i feel a bit of a shiver,

  so im glad to stay the night with Gran, but now Gran says i have to share the bed with Great-Uncle Mont! and Great-Uncle Mont is terrifically old but he listens when i tell him things, though i dont want him in my bed so i hang around with Gran in her room,

  ‘have you said your prayers?’ she says,

  and she has a Jesus on the wall made out of bone and it hangs from a hook and Jesus is all muscles but his head hangs down and hes got little spikes through his hands and a spike through his feet, and Gran shows me how to kneel beside the bed,

  ‘can i say the prayers in my head?’ i ask,

  and she says ‘thats the best way’

  and Gran shows me how to put my hands together, so i ask Jesus for a bike and a cream bun and for Great-Uncle Mont to go and sleep at his own house,

  ‘off you go now’ says Gran ‘thats a good boy’

  so theres no way out and i trudge into the bedroom,

  and Great-Uncle Mont is standing in his shoes and coms! and i have to cough to stop myself laughing because coms are so hilarious, but whats awful is his shakes that he got when he was in the army in the other war, and i know already that shakes like this are called shell-shock, and they get his head going all by itself and he has a deep shuddery voice,

  ‘c-o-m-m-e along in-n-n’ he says,

  and he tries to light his pipe but this is difficult because his lips are shaking, so the pipe bobs up and down and even when his big shaky hands manage to strike the match theres a problem getting them to meet, because the flame goes one way and the pi
pe goes the other, and some spit dribbles out from the corner of his mouth while hes busy sucking the stem and missing,

  but now he gets it, so the tobacco glows and he puffs out a big cloud of smoke and he rumbles because hes happy, and already the bedrooms full of smoke and i don’t know why but i love the smell of it, and he turns away while i undress and get into my pyjamas and i check to see hes not looking and i can see his bald patch and his huge hairy ear,

  ‘goodnight, son’ Great-Uncle Mont says,

  but now he takes his pipe out because hes going to lie down in bed and his old hand goes groping for the bedside lamp so he can turn off the switch, but his knuckles knock against it and i reckon we are going to be electrocuted, but he brings it off and now we are in the dark,

  ‘goodnight’ i whisper,

  and i lie straight as i can right on the edge of the bed and try not to think of anything, but thats impossible because he starts snoring and i cant help listening and i cant go to sleep so i just lie here thinking about ghosts and i reckon i can hear things in this bedroom even although i cant see anything spooky on my side of the room,

  and im uncomfortable because at any moment i might fall out on the floor, wishing it was a ghost in the room with me, then at least i could have the bed to myself and i remember Grans stories about ladies in castles walking down the staircase to get revenge for something that was done before they died and i get scared now my eyes are used to the dark,

  ‘Uncle Mont’ i whisper,

  and i give the old man a dig in the back with my elbow because a ghost would be worse than anything and Great-Uncle Mont lets out the biggest shakiest snore of all so i have to stick my fingers in my ears,

  i ask Guy about ghosts, but he lifts me up off the floor and holds me so my eyes are level with his,

  ‘theres no such thing in the world as ghosts’ Guy says ‘understood?’

  and he gives me a bit of a shake, but Gran believes she has got one in her house, so i reckon that shed know,

  ‘understood?’

  when i dip my hands in the canal is warm, and green, and we get set up for a spot of tadpole fishing, so i fill the jars with water and put them in a line along the path that Mike says is called a bridle path, and i wipe my hands on my pants and im happy here and we are ready to begin, so next its up to Mike because hes got a good grip on the pole that belongs with his wigwam and hes delving right down in the mud to hoist up a big clump of weed that he dumps on the bank,