Free Josie Under Fire by Ann Turnbull

I’d said to Vic. We were talking about defending people, and standing up for what you believe in. I told her about Ted as well.”
    “He’ll be here soon, won’t he?”
    “Wednesday.”
    Edith smiled. “That’ll be fun. Perhaps we’ll go out somewhere. And Mummy’s sure to do something nice for dinner.”
    “Ted’s not fussy,” said Josie. She remembered him, fondly, reading at the dinner table (much to their mother’s annoyance), talking politics, hardly aware of what he was eating.
    She was conscious that they had strayed from the subject of her talk with Miss Rutherford. She tried again: “Edith, we’ve got to stop picking on Alice Hampton. It’s gone too far.”
    Edith looked defensive. “ We didn’t throw that brick! It’s nothing to do with us.”
    “All the same – we should leave her alone now.”
    Edith shrugged. “She’s boring, anyway.”
    Perhaps the others will have grown bored with the game, Josie thought. Perhaps I won’t need to stand up for her.
    The next day, Easter Monday, the snow finally came: only a brief flurry, but for a while the sky was full and the pavements sparkled under a fine, fast-melting layer.
    “In the middle of April!” Aunty Grace exclaimed.
    The girls were delighted. They went out into Chelsea Walk and tried sliding on the pavement, but the snow was too wet. They crossed over to the Embankment and saw both sky and water blotted out, the buildings of Battersea hidden and the barrage balloons like strange monsters emerging from mist.
    Josie looked back through the trees at the house and thought how beautiful the scene looked in the softly falling snow. This could be any time, she thought: now, or the future, or a hundred years ago. The house would always be the same.
    But by the afternoon the snow had melted.
    Tuesday was cold and dull. Edith and Josie put their knitting into bags and set off for school. They did not have to wear uniform today. The knitting session was to take place in the hall, and chairs had been placed randomly. Josie had convinced herself that Alice Hampton would not come, but she was disappointed. As the girls began arriving she saw that Alice was there, and so were Clare, Pam and Sylvia.
    Edith went straight to her friends. “Did you hear about Hampton’s shop?” They whispered and glanced at Alice, who noticed, and ignored them.
    Josie kept away from their talk. She was besieged by guilt.
    Miss Hallam called them all to attention, and told them they would spend most of the morning knitting, and then the work would be collected up, stars awarded and photographs taken.
    “Anything you haven’t finished can wait till after the holiday,” she said. “And since this is not a school day you may sit where you like, and talk if you wish. And we shall also have some singing.”
    Clare, Pam and Edith began grabbing chairs. They set five of them in a semi-circle, and Josie and Sylvia joined them. Josie saw Alice casting about, uncertain where to sit, unwilling to ask to join a group. She is shy, Josie thought; she doesn’t know how to make friends. In the end Alice sat on one of the few chairs left, on the fringes of another group, trying to look as if she was part of it.
    They all got out their work, and Mrs. Burton from the WVS started them off singing. They sang Pack up your Troubles ; Run, Rabbit, Run ; The White Cliffs of Dover ; and Jerusalem . Someone suggested Whistle While you Work , and they all sang with loud enthusiasm:
    “Whistle while you work
    Hitler is a twerp
    Goering’s barmy
    So’s his army
    Whistle while you work…”
    When the time was up Josie had finished her balaclava. Edith’s scarf came to a natural end and she cast off. Amid much laughter they each put on their own garments (socks went on hands) and Miss Hallam encouraged them to stand close together while a man from the local paper took several photographs. There was a list of names on the wall and everyone who had finished a garment was awarded a star.
    At last