The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

“Oh, the funeral! Bunch of nosy busybodies!”
“I think you should make an effort,” Lady Thorton said. “You might be
surprised. And—it’s good to be seen helping the war effort, don’t you agree?
This isn’t the time to be isolationist.”
I had been listening closely. I asked, “What’s that mean?”
Lady Thorton said, “An isolationist is someone who doesn’t support the
war. Someone who wants us to stand apart; someone who doesn’t care about
things.”
I said, “But she doesn’t care about things.”
Susan looked like I’d slapped her. “How can you say that? Of course I do!”
I shrugged.
“Is feeding you three meals a day not caring for you?” she demanded. “No,
don’t you look away. You look at me, Ada. When I confronted Jamie’s
teacher—wasn’t that caring for him?”
Who knew she’d get so wound up? I tried to look away, but she put her
hand under my chin and turned my face back toward her. “Wasn’t it?” she
insisted.
I didn’t want to answer, but I knew she wouldn’t let go of me until I did.
“Maybe,” I said at last.
She released me and turned back to Lady Thorton, who was looking
amused. “I’ll join,” she said.
As soon as Lady Thorton left, Susan told me off. “What did you mean by
complaining that I haven’t got a proper job? What sort of job do you expect
me to have?”
I shrugged. It surprised me, how she could go on buying food without
working, even though she did get paid for taking us. “Mam works in the pub,”
I said.
“Well, I’m not doing that,” she said. “I did try to get a job, when I first
moved here with Becky. No one would have me. Oxford degree or not. Any
position I was qualified for was reserved for men. Can’t have a woman
stealing a man’s job, now, can we?”
I didn’t understand why we were having this conversation.
“Oh!” she continued. “Me, in the WVS! All those wretched do-gooders!
What nonsense.”