Page 138 of The Gathering Storm

She hesitated. ‘It’s – it’s publicly associating ourselves with Jews. There are people who won’t like that. It could affect the business in the future.’

‘I don’t believe it. Look here, darling, do you want to help with this children thing? Well, then, do it. What does it actually entail?’

‘Well, you know Sir Samuel Hoare put out an appeal on the Home Service for foster homes for the children? It seems they’ve had over five hundred offers, and now the Movement needs volunteers to go and inspect the homes to see if they’re suitable. Mrs Margolies asked if Mummy and I would be willing to help.’

The sounds in the kitchen had stopped, and at the end of the dark passage he saw that Hannah had come to the door, with Leah behind her, to listen.

‘I think it’s a splendid idea. In fact, I’ll volunteer as well. I dare say it will be useful for them to have someone with a car – all the homes might not be so easy to reach.’

His reward was the way Cynthia’s face lit up. ‘Would you? Oh, I think that would be wonderful, all of us helping.’

‘I’m not sure I’d know a good Jewish home when I saw one, though – you might have to give me some hints,’ Richard said.

Hannah had come hurrying to join them. ‘Rachel Margolies says they don’t have to be Jewish homes. And she says we can’t be too fussy, given how many children there will be, and how urgent the need. All we have to see is that the homes are clean, and that the families seem respectable.’

‘I think I can do that,’ Richard said. ‘When do we start?’

Cynthia and her mother exchanged a glance, then said, at the same moment and in the same tone, ‘Tomorrow?’

And Richard laughed.

Jack and Helen went down to spend Christmas with Jessie and Bertie. Basil preferred to stay in London, and Michael was in Malta. And while the pull of Barbara and Freddie and their two little boys, Douglas and Peter, was strong to devoted grandparents, Barbara was pregnant again, having a hard time with morning and evening sickness, and didn’t feel up to company.

And Jack said, ‘Who knows what’s going to happen next year?’

In the hall at Twelvetrees, Jessie hugged her favourite brother for a very long time, her thoughts running on the same lines as his. Then they went into the drawing-room and a good, big fire. ‘So much nicer to look at than coal fires,’ Helen said.

‘We lost a big sycamore in the storm before last Christmas,’ Bertie said, ‘so we’ve got plenty of nicely seasoned logs now.’

The girls brought sherry and mince pies. Thomas was home from college, having arrived just the night before, and listened intently as his mother asked, ‘Are you keeping busy?’ and his uncle Jack said, ‘Very, what with the Spitfire and the Hurricane coming off the production lines, and the Typhoon to work on. And so many new bases being set up.’

Jessie laughed. ‘You’re not a construction worker.’

‘No, but I seem to be consulted about everything. Jack of all trades.’

‘I’d sooner you were a consultant with your feet on the ground than flying.’

He smiled at her. ‘There speaks a woman. What man of spirit wouldn’t sooner be flying?’

‘Do you miss it?’ Jessie asked.

‘Yes, I miss the sky,’ Jack said. He looked at his wife. ‘You understand.’

‘Ah, you’ve remembered at last that I was a flier, too.’

‘How could I forget? But I keep my hand in,’ Jack went on. ‘Enough flying hours to keep my ticket. You just never know, do you, when it might be needed?’

‘Not at your age,’ Helen said bluntly. ‘You’re fifty-two. Your reflexes are not quick enough. It’s young men who are needed.’

‘She’s cruel, isn’t she?’ Jack said, reaching out a hand to press Helen’s to show he wasn’t really hurt.

‘But not wrong,’ Helen said. ‘You were pretty old for the last lot, darling – they all called you “uncle”. All those boys in your squadrons were eighteen, nineteen, twenty.’

There was a brief silence as Jack, Helen, Jessie and Bertie all remembered at the same moment how many of those ‘boys’ had died. And before anyone could tactfully change the subject, Thomas cleared his throat and said, ‘You really think there will be another war?’

He was addressing Jack, who, with regard to a mother’s feelings, said, ‘The government seems determined to keep us out of one.’

‘But the RAF must believe it’s going to happen, or why are they making new bases and building all those planes?’ Before Jack could answer, he said, ‘I know they do, as a matter of fact, because we had a recruiting officer come to address us at college last week.’