JOE AND NELLY A World War Two ghost story
CHAPTER 11

On Sunday, Mum had a day off and Joe didn’t need any persuading to stay in bed for some mother and son time. They read The Beano and another chapter of Swallows and Amazons, and then they had a long overdue chat about Dad. Since the letter that had arrived on the day Joe discovered Nelly was a ghost, there had been no more letters. Joe prayed every night that Dad had actually got the letter he had sent. Mum explained that it took a long time for the International Red Cross to forward post to soldiers on the front line - and then the soldiers’ letters had to come back to Blighty.

‘Their letters are censored because certain information could help the enemy. That’s why Dad’s letters take a lot longer to get to us than ours do to get to him,’ said Mum. ‘I’m sure he has received your letter, Joe. I should think he would have read it at least a dozen times by now.’

‘But how would we know if it couldn’t be delivered, Mum? Would it be returned to me?’

‘Sometimes letters come back - but then most people think the worst. As Nan always says, no news is good news.’

What on earth was that supposed to mean? Joe just wanted to know where Dad was and that he was safe.

Mum kept all of her letters from Dad in a box that once contained soap and talcum powder. Joe thought it smelled just like Mum and it was the best place to keep Dad’s letters. She picked one out and read it aloud to him.

’We drove right through, heading for the Belgian border, stopping only a few hours each night to refuel and catch forty winks. Early next morning, we left for Brussels, 90 miles away. It seemed impossible that we would ever make it. Only the thought of you and Joe kept me going.

We set out early and were soon being cheered on our way by people in their pyjamas and nightshirts. It was amazing! And when we crossed the border in Belgium, the people went crazy. Villages and towns were decorated with Belgian and Allied flags. Our vehicles were covered with flowers and every time we stopped, people showered us with fruit and wine, cakes and biscuits. Across the roads were banners, saying “Welcome to our Allies”.’

Joe loved the picture that formed in his mind’s eye of his father covered in fruit and flowers, but he just wanted to know when he would be home again. Mum had no idea.

‘It’s been a long war, Joe, and I think it will end soon, now that the Americans have joined the Allies in Europe. We can only hope and pray that Dad is safe and well. Don’t stop writing to him – our letters keep him going.’

They waited until they heard Auntie Margaret and Mrs Davies, also known as Auntie Vi, leave the house to go to church.

‘Righty oh, Joe,’ Mum said. ‘Let’s get dressed and have some breakfast.’

When they came downstairs and sat at the table, Granddad, Uncle Tom and Mr Davies were listening to the news on the wireless again, Granddad in his armchair, surrounded by a cloud of pipe smoke. Beside him, Monty perched and twittered on the pipe rack while Granddad stroked his green chest feathers with his forefinger.

They ate their breakfast in silence, their happiness darkened by the serious tone of the voices on the wireless. But Nan was a cheerful cook and waitress, as good as any Nippy you would replace at a Lyons tea shop; she had managed to rustle up a fried egg and a rasher of bacon each. She joined them for a cup of tea and then Mum helped her with the washing up.

Joe watched as Granddad stood up, crooked his finger at Uncle Tom and pointed to his armchair. Uncle Tom sat down in it and Granddad moved over to sit with Joe at the table, where they continued to put together their plan of action, whispering and writing down the route they were going to take in their search for Nelly. They were so caught up in their planning that they didn’t notice Uncle Tom standing behind them, listening closely. They both jumped when they heard his voice.

‘Do you need any help with that? I couldn’t help overhearing what you two are up to and I would be only too glad to lend a hand. Who are we looking for?’

Joe looked hard at Granddad. It was supposed to be their secret. But Granddad stared back, nodded at Joe and then pulled out a chair for Uncle Tom. Granddad started to explain and then Joe took over, describing how he found Nelly’s ghost on the steps.

‘Everyone on the street knew Nelly,’ said Uncle Tom. ‘She was a sweet little girl. But nobody saw her after you left for Wales and we all thought she’d been evacuated too.’

‘But surely someone would have wondered about her!’ Joe was insistent. ‘In the last five years she would have written to her mum and dad. The postman would have to tell someone if he couldn’t deliver her letters.’

‘It’s the war, Joe,’ said Granddad. ‘Everything’s topsy-turvy and some questions just can’t be answered.’

Mr Davies turned off the wireless and sat down at the table.

‘I remember that night,’ he said. ‘We helped as best we could but there was so much confusion. Our homes had just been destroyed. We’d lost everything and we had to replace somewhere to stay. If it hadn’t been for your Nan and Granddad, Joe, we would have been billeted with a crowd of strangers. I’ll never be able to pay them back, so let me help too.’

It seemed to Joe that everyone was joining the search party. Perhaps Nelly would be reunited with her parents sooner than he thought.

By the time Monday came, they were ready for action. Uncle Tom and Mr Davies had to go to work in the daytime but they were happy to take over after tea. Granddad was in charge, giving instructions on where to search and what to do if they found anything.

The butterflies in Joe’s stomach were making him feel so sick, and he had started to wear a path between the back door and the lavatory. Nan made him a cup of tea with something sweet in it – it tasted nothing like sugar - and when she’d decided that he’d got his colour back, Granddad said, ‘Come on, Joe. Let’s go.’

Joe rushed off ahead, shouting to Granddad that he wouldn’t be long. Nelly was waiting on the steps. They hadn’t seen each other in over a week and he could feel the warmth of her smile before he even got to her. She’d missed him.

‘I have so many people who want to help, Nelly, that I’m sure you’ll be with your mum and dad very soon. I don’t have long, but can you think of anything else I need to know that will help us?’

‘I don’t know,’ Nelly replied. ‘I’ve told you everything I can remember.’

‘What were you wearing that day?’

‘This dress, shoes and socks, and my blue ribbons.’

Joe would never forget Nelly’s clothes. The words of the song come back to him:

She had a little hole in her frock,

Hole in her shoe,

Hole in her sock

Where the toe peeped through,

But Nelly was the darling of our alley…’

He put his arms around Nelly and hugged her close to him, He could feel the warmth of her little body through the thin dress as he whispered in her ear, ‘I promise to do my best to replace you,’ and then he ran as fast as he could with his aching ankle back to Granddad, who was waiting with the map.

They had agreed to start by going the long way round, via the Old Kent Road and then back up Rotherhithe New Road. Granddad made Joe stay with him. ‘I don’t want you wandering off,’ he said. ‘We’re in this together. Besides, your ankle isn’t completely healed yet.’

Granddad helped him to climb over piles of bricks, crumbling walls and fences into the back gardens of ruined houses, to check wrecked outhouses and sheds, as well as flat roofs. It was hot, sticky work under the July sun. Everywhere was dusty and even the dandelions looked thirsty, in among the brown grass and nettles that grew up through the rubble. Granddad lifted him up onto his shoulders for extra height. As the afternoon wore on, they slowed right down. Granddad clapped his hands together and said it was time they turned around and retraced their steps. They had found nothing, not even a clue as to where Nelly’s body might be.

When they walked in the front door, they found Nan in a right old flap. Someone had left Monty’s cage open and forgot to close the door on their way out to the back yard. Monty had flown away.