Free The Girl With No Name by Diney Costeloe Page A

jacket to keep him warm, seemed impervious to the cold, simply standing, taking in everything around him, the bustle, the traffic, the noise.
    It was the Saturday before Christmas and people were hurrying along the pavements, in and out of shops finishing their Christmas shopping. Despite the war, everyone was determined that Hitler shouldn’t stop the usual celebrations. There might be fewer things in the shops and more unusual presents to be bought, but if you simply glanced at the pre-Christmas streets, you might well think everything was normal. Of course it wasn’t; it was all too clear that the country was at war. Uniformed servicemen, home on a few days’ Christmas leave, were among the shoppers laden with parcels. Everyone carried a gas mask, slung over the shoulder, signs directed people to public air raid shelters and a huge sign across the front of Swan and Edgar’s urged everyone to DIG FOR VICTORY!
    In the middle of Piccadilly Circus, where Eros should have stood, brave atop a fountain, there was a strange, sandbagged cone. Eros had been removed for his own protection and his fountain boarded and sandbagged. Around the base of the cone was a banner cautioning: Keep them Happy! Keep them Safe! Christmas Treat Fund.
    Christmas was nearly here, but it would be an entirely different Christmas. For many children it would be a Christmas away from home; children who’d been evacuated for fear of the bombing. There had been none and parents were beginning to bring their children home again, something the government was anxious to discourage. Even so, too many families would be apart this Christmas and the Treat Fund had been established to distribute extra treats to those children who were spending Christmas without their parents.
    Harry and Lisa stood at the side of the road, watching the traffic driving round the sandbagged fountain, awed by the perpetual busyness of the famous Piccadilly Circus.
    ‘You wouldn’t think there was a war on,’ Lisa said, ‘not really. Look at all that traffic.’ Petrol was rationed, she knew that, because Uncle Dan had only a limited amount for his taxi, but there seemed no fewer vehicles on the road here. Horns hooted, men shouted, engines roared, a man on a bike wove his way through the congestion.
    High above them were huge advertisements for Bovril, Coca-Cola and Wrigley’s gum, things that were now almost impossible to come by, still advertised on great signs; and ticking away the minutes of that busy Saturday morning was the famous Guinness clock. Above it all floated huge barrage balloons, silver whales wallowing in the ice-blue sky.
    ‘D’you think them balloons’ll stop the bombers coming in?’ Lisa wondered as she looked up at them.
    ‘If they come in low they will,’ Harry said. ‘None today, anyway.’
    ‘P’raps they won’t come at all,’ said Lisa hopefully.
    ‘Oh, they’ll come,’ Harry assured her. ‘Hitler ain’t going to say “Thanks for Poland, now I’ll stay put,” is he?’ He turned and began walking towards Piccadilly.
    ‘Shall we go in the shops?’ asked Lisa. She longed to go inside one of the tall, gracious buildings and see what they had on display. She moved towards Swan and Edgar, pausing outside to peer in at the window.
    ‘OK,’ Harry sighed, ‘not for long, mind.’
    They went inside and wandered through the different departments looking at all the goods displayed. Lisa wished she had some money. She would have liked to buy something for Aunt Naomi and Uncle Dan.
    Harry was quickly bored with window shopping and edged them back out into the street. ‘Come on,’ he urged, ‘let’s go this way. P’raps get something to eat.’
    He strode along Piccadilly with Lisa almost having to run to keep up with him.
    ‘What’s the hurry?’ she panted. ‘Slow down.’
    Harry did slow down, eventually, and when he did he pulled a silk scarf out of his pocket and knotted it about his neck. ‘You were right,’ he said with a