Free The Girls in Blue by Lily Baxter Page A

crazy old house.’
    ‘Let’s go and have a look,’ Rita said as they reached the second floor. ‘I want to see this widow’s walk.’
    ‘We haven’t got time. Maybe later.’
    ‘Spoilsport.’
    Miranda spun round, glaring at her. ‘Look, Rita. I’m not mad about this either but if you’re going to stay here you’ll have to fit in and do what my grandparents say. It’s their house and they’ve taken you in.’
    ‘You too, don’t forget.’
    ‘I’m family.’
    ‘Thanks for reminding me that I haven’t got one.’
    Miranda met her angry gaze and was instantly ashamed of her hasty words. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.’
    ‘You’ll be going back to your cosy home at the end of the summer holidays, but I’ll be stuck here with the old lady I’ve never met, if she ever gets out of hospital.’
    ‘I won’t as it happens. Our house was bombed and I’m going to have to stay here for the duration, but I know I’m lucky and I’m sorry if I spoke out of turn.’ Miranda held out her hand. ‘Come on, Rita. Let’s go and find these camp beds. I don’t like going in the rooms where the maids used to sleep, it’s spooky.’
    ‘You mean the house is haunted?’
    ‘Not that I know of, but I don’t like the feel of them. I’d hate to have been a servant in those days.’
    ‘It would have been better than starving in the gutter, mate.’ Rita strode on ahead to the next door, which had been left ajar, but as she pushed it open a furry mass leapt out at her and she fell backwards with a cry of fright.
    ‘It’s all right,’ Miranda said, chuckling as she bent down to stroke the irate cat. ‘It’s only Dickens. He must have come up here to escape from the kids.’
    ‘The bloody thing almost gave me a heart attack.’ Rita fanned herself with her hand, glaring at the cat who was now purring loudly and arching his back with pleasure as Miranda fussed over him.
    ‘Poor old boy. Did that nasty girl frighten you?’
    ‘Oh, for God’s sake stop drooling over the animal and let’s get this over.’ Rita hesitated in the doorway, peering into the room. ‘If you’re a ghost get out of me way. I’m coming in.’ She marched through the doorway. ‘There’s nothing in here but a lot of old junk and spiders’ webs.’
    Eventually, after a lot of running up and down stairs carrying the ancient wood and canvas camp beds, they turned drawers into makeshift cots for the babies and the spare rooms became dormitories for the mothers and children. Miranda was relieved to find that her grandmother had not allocated her old room to anyone else, even though she would have to share it with Rita.
    It was now late afternoon and the sunlight streamed through the large bay window that overlooked the back garden and the wide sweep of the bay. Rita flung herself down on one of the twin beds and closed her eyes. ‘I could kip for a week,’ she said, yawning. ‘Wake me up in time for tea.’
    Miranda would have liked to unpack her cases and hang her clothes in the bird’s-eye walnut wardrobe, but she had barely begun when Annie poked her head round the door and informed them that their services were needed in the kitchen. It was a command rather than a request and Miranda knew better than to argue. She followed Annie downstairs with Rita trailing behind them.
    The air in the kitchen was blue with cigarette smoke and filled with steam from the kettle singing away on the hob. Maggie had already made one pot of tea and was in the process of making another. She left this to Annie and instructed Miranda to give the children milk or lemonade, and Rita was left to dole out the remainder of the rock cakes and given a packet of Rich Tea biscuits to hand round.
    Miranda was pleased to see that the women seemed to be in better spirits and beginning to talk things over between themselves. She felt genuinely sorry for them and it was obvious that they were all deeply distressed by their recent experiences, but the