LITMIR.BIZ

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before we need to – you know, like meeting trouble halfway?’

      Meg nodded. ‘Mom always said something like that. She maintained that you should cross bridges only when you come to them.’

      ‘That’s what we will do then,’ Joy declared. ‘And we may find in the end we won’t need a bridge at all.’

      Charlie bought a wireless. He said it was best to keep abreast of things. Meg thought the plays and comedy shows were very entertaining and that nothing lifted the spirits like a bit of music, and the children always listened to Children’s Hour as they drank their cocoa before bed. However, Meg soon discovered the downside of having a wireless was the fact it often brought disturbing news. Somehow she found it far worse to hear about things spoken directly into the living room than to read about them in the newspaper. She could always put the paper aside if a certain article upset her, but she couldn’t do that so easily with the wireless, especially when her father was so interested in the news. On the evening of 10 November, with the younger children in bed, Meg and Terry were sitting with their father drinking a cup of tea and listening to a play when the commentator interrupted to tell them of a pogrom against the Jews in Munich that had begun the previous day. The attacks were carried out by storm troopers, members of Hitler Youth and other interested parties, in retaliation for the assassination of a German official in Paris at the hands of a Jewish youth.

      The commentator went on:

      It is estimated two hundred and fifty synagogues are burned and seven thousand Jewish businesses destroyed and looted. People have been thrown from their homes and many have perished while their homes have been looted. Jewish cemeteries, hospitals and schools have also suffered the same fate, and so much glass has been broken they are calling it ‘Kristallnacht’ or the ‘Night of Broken Glass’.

      Meg sat and stared, stunned, at the wireless, and Terry, she saw, was little better. Charlie reached over and snapped the wireless off as Meg cried, ‘Dad, I’ve never heard anything so horrific.’

      ‘There will be further repercussions to this, mark my words,’ Charlie said.

      ‘There needs to be,’ Meg said hotly. ‘We can’t let people be treated this way.’

      ‘No, I don’t mean that,’ Charlie said. ‘At the moment we’re letting Hitler get away with murder because everyone is afraid. I think he will impose even more sanctions on the Jews to drive the message home that the German Government doesn’t want them there, and yet some have lived there for generations and a great many fought for Germany in the Great War. They think of themselves as German.’

      ‘But where would they go – and why should they?’ Meg asked.

      ‘Because in Hitler’s Germany things are done his way, and he is a racist,’ Charlie said. ‘Already they are barred from using public transport, entering public buildings or attending school. What’s next, I ask myself.’

      Suddenly Meg got up, crossed the room, pulled the curtain back and looked out at the rain-sodden streets. She tried to imagine what it would be like if it had been they who were thrown out into the night, the house looted and destroyed, and felt a frisson of fear trickle down her spine.

      Nicholas had told her of the maltreatment that Jews in Germany were suffering and she hadn’t really listened, because she had thought that anything, however bad, happening in Germany wouldn’t affect her life in any way. Strangely a disembodied voice on the wireless made much more of an impact.

      Over the next few days, Meg listened to the wireless as avidly as her father. They heard that a rigid curfew had been imposed on the Jews in Germany. They were forced to repair the damage done to their homes and businesses, though they were not allowed to claim any insurance to help with the cost, and then the repaired houses were occupied by Aryans and allies of the Nazi Party, who also took over their businesses.

      It was reported that 274 synagogues had been burned and 7,500 businesses destroyed on the Night of Broken Glass and subsequent nights of violence. No details were given of the 300,000 people who had disappeared, the 91 who lay dead in the street or the 600 driven to take their own lives.

      The weeks slid one into another and Meg tried to shake off her despondent mood. None of the younger children could understand why she felt so low, and there was no need for her to frighten them with her unease about the war. Another crate arrived from America in time for Christmas, and Meg felt better about accepting the gifts now.

      After the first crate had arrived out of the blue, she’d felt she should get to know the relations that had sent them such fine and thoughtful things, and she now wrote to them regularly. She felt she had got to know them all so well: her mother’s eldest brother, Bobbie, the two younger ones, Martin and Jimmy, and her sister, Christie. She loved their replies, which were often humorous, and if she asked specific questions about her mother they never ignored them, or told her not to think about such thing like they all did in Birmingham – just as if Maeve had never existed – but would answer her questions honestly and she appreciated that.

      She even knew what they looked like now, because they had sent photographs, all of them standing with their families, looking happy and healthy, and Christie so like Maeve it gave Meg quite a jolt. She had borrowed May’s Brownie box camera to send pictures of them back and Bobbie wrote that they looked a fine bunch. Later Christie wrote asking all their sizes so Meg had guessed that they would be sending clothes. The crate contained good thick winter coats for them all, even Charlie, all beautifully made and with fleece linings. Ruth’s all-in-one this year was dark pink with lighter pink fur lining. There was also a selection of books, board games, boxes of chocolates, and a pair of silk stockings for Meg.

      By the end of January 1939 world events ceased to concern Meg as much as the foul weather, and she was immensely grateful for the new winter coats. A heavy snowfall had frozen, then further snow had fallen on top of the ice; then this had frozen, too and so on all week. It played havoc with the sports fixtures, with many events cancelled, and so, on the last Friday evening in January as they ate their dinner Charlie had said that Terry mustn’t even try to play football in the park the following morning.

      ‘Not worth it,’ he said. ‘You’d only have to fall on that frozen ground and you’d end up with a broken leg or something.’

      Instead, Terry had gone to get his hair cut, and their dad had given the younger ones money for the pictures, so Meg and Ruth had the house to themselves for once, but the children hadn’t long left the house when Meg was surprised to see Nicholas come in the door. ‘Terry’s not playing football today,’ she said, ‘because of the weather.’

      ‘I know,’ Nicholas said. ‘I spotted him going in to the barber’s and took a chance on getting you on your own.’

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘Yeah. I need to tell you something, but it’s sort of delicate.’

      ‘Can’t be that delicate,’ Meg declared, with a smile. ‘Come on, spit it out.’

      Nicholas’s expression didn’t alter, yet he didn’t answer and Meg felt the first stirrings of unease. But she was the sort of person to meet trouble head on so a little impatiently she said, ‘Come on, Nicholas, you can tell me and if you don’t do it soon Terry may well be in on top of us. Doesn’t take long to do a short back and sides.’

      Nicholas blurted out, ‘I – I … look, this is really awkward but look, I think your dad has a girlfriend.’

      Meg was flabbergasted, and extremely relieved that there was no one else there to hear words that surely couldn’t possibly be true. It was nonsense, it had to be nonsense, and that was what she told her cousin.

      He shrugged. ‘Thought it better to prepare you, like.’

      ‘Prepare me?’ Meg said. ‘Shock me, more like, coming here telling me things that are not true.’

      ‘If you say so.’

      ‘But it can’t be true.’

      ‘Look, Meg, I’ve

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