Writing for Fun
January 2016
Billie - Jeanette Rothwell
The boy stood in the doorway, head bowed, drooping shoulders. His jacket was far too small for him and his socks were at half-mast. His whole demeanour was droopy, sad, lonely, with the appearance of an unloved child.
Rose's heart melted as she gazed at this sudden invasion into her ordered life. Her husband was away, serving in the army abroad. She had adapted her life to living alone, working in the local post office by day, listening to her favourite radio programmes in the evening. Just herself to feed and care for. It was 1939 and she had opened the door to the Billeting Officer who had declared that, as pre-warned, she must take in this evacuee for the foreseeable future.
'I suppose you have a name?' she asked.
He lifted his head long enough to say, 'It's Billy Brown, Miss.'
She noted that he carried a crumpled brown paper bag and a gas mask box.
'What have you got in that bag?' she asked.
He held it out to her.
'Well, you'd better come in first, the draught from that door is freezing. Take your coat off and hang it on the back of the door,' she said as she ushered him into her bright little kitchen, taking the bag from him. 'So, what have we here?'
The bag contained nothing more than a pair of threadbare socks, ragged pants, a half-eaten stale roll and a letter addressed 'To whom it may concern'. It said, 'Billy is a good boy but must say his prayers and do as he is told. He is a hard worker.'
'You are supposed to bring a complete change of clothes with you. These socks and pants won't get you very far,' Rose observed.
Billy hung his head again. 'I haven't got a change of clothes Miss. This is all I've got.' He indicated his very ill-fitting attire.
'Oh, well, I expect we can find some more for you. You are quite small. How old are you?'
'Nine, Miss,' he answered.
'Hmm. A bit small for your age I must say. We'll have to build you up a bit.' Her motherly instinct was rearing its head and she bustled about putting a meal together for him. He ate ravenously and she then showed him to a brightly furnished attic bedroom where he would be sleeping. He gazed about it in astonishment not able to believe his luck. A whole bedroom to himself. Luxury!
Over the next few days Rose learned that Billy came from London and was the youngest of five children. His siblings had also been evacuated but he didn't know where. His Mum worked at a munitions factory but he didn't seem to know of his Dad. It sounded as if his mother had quite a struggle making ends meet and Rose determined to look after this pathetic evacuee. She managed to find some cast off clothes, boots, etc. from neighbours and delighted in cooking tasty meals for him. Gradually the rather pale scared look on his face disappeared to be replaced by a healthier looking colour and spontaneous smiles. He even began to look forward to going to the village school and playing with some friends which consisted of village children and some of the other evacuees. He joined the choir in the local church as he appeared to have quite a nice voice.
The Devon village remained comparatively free of any invasions although some villagers lost relatives in the war and the rationing that was imposed on them made life a bit difficult but Rose's cheerful attitude rubbed off on Billy and he gained in confidence and strength and gradually forgot his London existence, enjoying the country air and good wholesome food.
Billy stayed with his Auntie Rose, which he called her, for three years and then he received a letter from his Mother in London summoning him to come home. He departed very reluctantly, hugging Rose tightly, both of them tearful and sad.
Rose's grief at losing Billie was somewhat abated by her husband's return, wounded, but not too badly and very glad to be home, so she was able to concentrate on nursing him, and, of course, to enjoy his love and companionship. She sent Billie a few letters but they were returned unopened and marked 'Gone away'. The newspapers and radio reported heavy bombing in London and she worried that Billie might have been caught up in that. She saw some photos in the newspaper of children escaping from bombed out houses and she looked hard at the pictures, heart thumping, in case she recognised Billie. She never forgot him.
Rose and her husband were never blessed with children, much to her disappointment, and some 20 years after the War her husband died and she was once again by herself.
She was dozing in front of the Television one evening, when she thought she heard the words 'Billie Brown' coming from the set. She opened her eyes and sat up. She had definitely heard the words 'Billie Brown'. An older version of her dear little evacuee was being interviewed as he was part of a Band which was touring the UK. She was so excited and even more so when he mentioned that his Band was coming to a nearby town for a one-night concert.
Rose took a bus to that town on the following day and obtained a ticket to see the Band. She learned that it had made its name in the United States and this was its first visit to the U.K.
The anticipated day arrived and she was thrilled when she spotted Billie on stage singing and playing guitar. The music wasn't quite to her taste being rather repetitive and very noisy, but she tapped her feet and applauded in the right places.
At the end of the concert, she found the stage door, hoping to catch a glimpse of Billie. 'I never thought I would see him again,' she thought.
Several members of the Band appeared at the stage door rapturously greeted by the assembled fans. Rose was somewhat jostled by them but stood her ground, determined to see him up close if she could.
He casually came out of the theatre, and stood shyly smiling at the admiring fans and signing autographs. Rose felt her heart almost burst with pride and without thinking she darted forward towards him. He looked at her in amazement and said, enquiringly, 'Auntie Rose? Is that you?'
'Yes Billie, it's me, Oh, I'm so pleased to see you.'
He stepped forward took her to one side and said quietly, 'Listen, we're only here for another day, can I come and see you tomorrow? I'd love to see the old cottage and have a cup of tea with you.'
Rose was ecstatic. The following day she bustled around tidying and cleaning her home and baking some scones so that by the time Billie arrived, driving a very posh car, the house smelled of baking and everywhere was sparkling and polished.
Billie breathed in the atmosphere of the cottage, kissed Rose, and sank into one of the chintz covered armchairs.
'You have no idea how often I have dreamed of doing this again, it's so lovely to be here.'
Rose told him that she was now a widow. Billie immediately issued an invitation for her to visit him in New York and meet his wife and children. He would send her the money. It seemed that his Mum had remarried and moved the family to America which was where he met his wife, became a member of the Band, which was then offered a recording contract and now they were touring the UK.
'I've never forgotten my wonderful time here during the War and how good you were to me. When I went back home Mum had already met a guy who was a GI and he became my step-dad, so things weren't so bad at home after that. We did get bombed out although we were safely in a shelter at the time and were moved to a better house, my other brothers went their separate ways and my sister and I eventually went with Mum and step-dad to America.
'I was so lucky to have been billeted with you during the War though, some of my pals had a really lousy time,' Billie commented.
'I never thought I would see you again,' Rose smiled. 'We mustn't lose touch.'
'Certainly not, and my kids would love to try some of your scones. It's my turn to return your kindness. It might have been a rotten war but some of us didn't do too badly.'