Page 67 of Neighbors at War

‘You didn’t. Although I would love to have somewhere to grow things. Even a window box.’ She thought of Helen and Bobby and how much it could brighten their day to see something colourful on their windowsill.

His expression changed and he seemed rather pleased with himself. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll ask Tony to help me make a couple for you. I’m sure we have some wood somewhere and we certainly have soil to plant them up. I’ll be certain to let you have seeds, too.’

Peggy saw his shoulders relax slightly and was glad he seemed more cheerful. ‘It’s very kind of you. My mother and sister, and…’ she hesitated, stopping herself just in time from adding Helen’s name ‘…me, of course, will be very grateful. It will be exciting to be able to grow a few things for ourselves.’

‘I’m glad to help in any way I can.’ He stopped pacing and sat at his desk. ‘I find watching plants grow gives me hope somehow.’

‘I can see why.’ Peggy couldn’t wait to go home and tell the rest of her household that they could soon expect to be able to plant some vegetables of their own. It would be a new experience for little Bobby, and would give him and Helen something to do.

‘Shall we begin?’ he asked smiling.

It took Peggy a moment to realise he was talking about the dictation.

‘Yes, of course.’

Chapter Forty-Three

HELEN

April 1943

‘Come and see how they’re doing,’ Helen said, leading Peggy, Babs and Ida up to the attic, with Bobby on her hip. He had a wide grin on his cherubic face. ‘Bobby’s been helping me water them a little each day. Haven’t you, Bobby?’

He nodded over her shoulder at the three women she had come to love like sisters and an adoptive mother. It was a joy to be able to give them something to smile about. The success of her tiny patch of vegetables in the two window boxes they kept up in the attic had given them all a fresh interest.

Helen was taking charge of one of the window boxes and Bobby the other, though really Helen was doing most of the work. He might only be two and a half, but he was used to being part of an older household. It troubled her sometimes how he might cope when the war ended and he had to mix with children his own age for the first time.

The boxes stood on the wooden floorboards in the place where they received most sunlight. ‘Here we are,’ Helen said. ‘Show them, Bobby.’

‘Cawwots, beans and—’ He looked up at her. ‘What’s this one, Mummy?’

They had attached lengths of wool to tiny hooks on the back of the box and looped them over tacks they had driven into the wall. Helen saw that one of them had come undone. A shoot from one of the beans had fallen over, and she carefully strung it up again. ‘It’s beans. There, that’s better.’

‘They’re doing ever so well,’ Ida said, ruffling Bobby’s hair. ‘You’re a clever boy.’

‘I am,’ he announced proudly, making them laugh. Helen wished there were more moments like this. ‘It was very kind of Tony to do this for us.’

‘It was his father’s idea,’ Peggy reminded them. ‘I think he enjoyed making up the boxes.’

Babs sighed happily. ‘It’s like having our own tiny gardens.’

‘I agree.’ Peggy reached down and brushed the tips of her fingers over the tiny fronds which Helen hoped meant carrots were growing underneath.

Bobby took her hand and moved it away. ‘Not to touch.’

Peggy widened her eyes at Helen. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’

Helen wished they had more things for Bobby to do. He was a placid child, rarely naughty. She wondered if it was because he was naturally well-behaved or just that he hadn’t any experience of running around in a park or on the beach. The thought saddened her.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ida whispered, drawing Helen back so that they were standing away from the others. ‘If you’re worried about the little one, try not to be.’

‘I was,’ she admitted, glad to share her concerns with the older woman. ‘What if this time hidden away affects him when he’s older?’

Ida stared at her for a second. ‘Now you listen to me, lovey. There’s little point in you worrying when there’s nothing you can do to change your circumstances, is there?’

Helen supposed not. ‘But⁠—’

‘But nothing. All we can do is make the most of what we have. Worrying about things beyond our control leads to madness.’