大象传媒

Sunlight Soap and Polish Lemonade will always mean the outbreak of war to me. The morning was warm and sunny. Mum and Dad had gone for a Sunday morning stroll leaving my brother and me alone in the house. We were listening to the wireless whilst we washed the breakfast dishes. The kitchen smelled of bacon and toast but the water in the sink gave off the unmistakable odour of Sunlight Soap. We were both fooling about until we heard the solemn voice of Mr Chamberlain, the Prime Minister. It was a moment before his message sank in. Our country was at war with Germany!

Immediately my brother rushed to the cupboard where our gasmasks were kept.
鈥淪hould we put them on?鈥� he asked.

We hated wearing them. They fitted over our faces, and fastened with elastic straps behind our heads. The plastic window fogged up when we breathed and they stank of rubber. We were supposed to practice wearing them daily. The only time they were useful was when Mum asked us to help her peel pickling onions they stopped our eyes watering.

鈥淣o, let鈥檚 just leave them hanging on the bannister where we can grab them,鈥� I replied.

Outside men鈥檚 deep voices called to each other, women and children too. We peeped through the window and saw our neighbours were gathering in the field at the back of our house. The men were carrying a spades and forks. We rushed out.

鈥淲hat are they doing?鈥� we asked a neighbour.
鈥淥h, they鈥檙e going to dig a trench in case the bombs start falling,鈥� she answered.

Philip began to cry when he heard and my heart beat fast. I wished Mum and Dad were home. We wandered into the field with the rest of the kids and watched as the men began digging. Soon the smell of hay mingled with the damp smell of newly dug earth. The faces of the men glistened with perspiration as they thrust their spades deep into the soil and threw it over their shoulders.

Dad returned and joined in with the spade that had belonged to his father. The men removed their jackets and worked in their shirt sleeves, but Bobby and Colin, two lads who鈥檇 just started work at the mill, stripped off their shirts and vests. This made Betty and Joyce giggle. Bored with watching, kids were dashing about the field, being aeroplanes, or soldiers and generally getting in everyone鈥檚 way. Philip and I crept forward to see how deep the trench was just as Donald picked up a clod of clay and fired it at Geoffrey. It hit him in the chest.

鈥淕otcha, you鈥檙e dead,鈥� he yelled, jumping up and down in glee. Of course Geoffrey retaliated and soon clay was flying Others joined in and Mr Bradford lost his temper.

鈥淐an鈥檛 you see we鈥檙e going to need that pile of muck to protect us when we鈥檙e in the trench,鈥� he yelled, 鈥渘ot plastered all over the damn field. Cut it out.鈥�

Fortunately Mrs Cole, the Polish lady, who lives at the top of our street, chose that moment to join us. Mr Cole married her when he was working as an engineer in Poland, and they鈥檇 just moved in. She鈥檚 tall and slim and wears her golden hair in two plaits wound around her head. I heard Mum tell Mrs Thomas that it鈥檚 the natural colour and doesn鈥檛 come from a, bottle. I think she鈥檚 like a princess in a fairy tale. She was carried a basket filled with glasses and a large jug. She stopped at the edge of the trench and smiled down at the men. They stopped working and stared back shyly.

As her husband climbed out of the trench and took the jug from her she said something to him.
鈥淢y wife wonders if you鈥檇 like a glass of Polish lemonade?鈥� he said, 鈥淪he鈥檚 seen how hard you鈥檝e worked and she thinks it would cool you down.鈥�
Mrs Cole walked along the trench handing each man a glass. Her husband followed and filled each one with clear red liquid. When the jug was empty she fetched more.
鈥淏y gum,鈥� said Mr Thompson, 鈥渢hat went down well missus, my throat was fair clemmed, I鈥檓 not used to such hard labour.鈥�

I don鈥檛 know if she understood him, but she smiled sweetly. Both Colin and Bobby blushed as they gave her back their glasses. I edged closer to her and peeped to see if there was any left in the jug. I was glad Mum was talking to Mrs Clegg or she鈥檇 have growled at me for being pushy. Mrs Cole thrust a glass into my hand and filled it from the jug.

鈥淧lease,鈥� she said with a smile and she mimed putting a glass to her lips. I鈥檇 been so busy staring at her hair that I stood there gob struck like an idiot.

The drink tasted like raspberry jelly. I heard someone say later that perhaps that鈥檚 how she鈥檇 made it. You know, just poured boiling water over a couple of jelly squares until they melted and then added lots of cold water. Whatever, it was lovely.

At bedtime Dad told us it was a day to remember, meaning the outbreak of war, but it鈥檚 the taste of the Polish lemonade which I shall remember forever and the beautiful lady with golden hair.

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