The Orphan Sisters: An Utterly Heartbreaking and Gripping World War 2 Historical Novel

by Shirley Dickson

  The guns were at it again, and the shrieks from planes overhead were deafening. Bombs dropped, intermittently, in the marketplace, lights flickered, and the shelter walls shook, threatening to collapse. Jumpy and jittery, the urge to flee overwhelmed Etty.

  A steadying hand came on her shoulder. Billy said in her ear, ‘Bonny lass, I’ll find us a seat.’

  At the suggestion they should sit and wait it out to die, hysteria overwhelmed Etty and, inhaling deeply, she fought the urge to laugh. If she was about to be blown to kingdom come, she wanted these last moments on earth to count.

  There was a lull overhead as aeroplanes receded into the distance. Etty knelt down beside the old woman, who stared blankly into space.

  ‘Come with us,’ she said, indicating Billy with a nod, ‘we’re moving further along the shelter.’

  The woman gave a wizened smile. ‘I can’t, hinny. I have to stay here in me place.’

  ‘How d’you mean?’

  ‘This is where me and me husband sit.’

  ‘Where is he, then?’

  ‘I divvent knaa… they say they never found his body.’

  Etty’s spine went cold.

  Apart from moving the woman forcibly there was nothing she could do. ‘Don’t you want company?’ she asked.

  The woman shrugged. ‘Truth to tell, I’d welcome if I did cop it. It’s lonely without me old man. We’ve no family, you see. Now, you toddle off with that nice young chap of yours and leave me in peace.’

  This sort of thing happened when you lost someone you loved. It must be easier if they died, rather than just… disappearing without trace, never to be heard from again.

  Billy placed his hands on her shoulders and guided her through the throng.

  The raiders were back – only this time, it was as if Hitler himself had sent his entire air force to bomb South Shields’ marketplace. As engines roared overhead, attempts at conversation proved impossible.

  Billy steered her along the next passageway, then the next, where there were metal-framed bunk beds set against the walls. A young couple holding hands sat on the top of the first one while the bottom bunk, Etty noticed, was vacant.

  A ghastly wailing noise came from outside and for a second the world stood heart-stoppingly still. The blast, when it came, shook the shelter, and the lights went out. An eerie silence followed, during which all Etty could think was that she was lucky to be alive.

  She couldn’t feel Billy’s hands upon her and, groping her way forward, she made her way to one of the empty bunk beds, sitting down on the lower one. The metal springs sagged as Billy sat next to her. Relief flooded her that she wasn’t alone.

  Wave after wave of aeroplanes roared overhead. Etty couldn’t see the walls but she imagined them, tons of concrete that, if hit, would come toppling down, crushing them all. She shuddered. She thought of the others, the young couple, the old lady. Billy and Bertha. Etty thought of her friend’s kids at home worrying themselves sick about their mother.

  Etty’s prayer was simple. Please God see us all safely through this night.

  When Billy’s fingertips brushed her hair back from her brow with the lightest of touches, Etty realised with shock that his hand shook. This seemed so far from his usual bravado, Etty’s heart melted. A finger tilted her chin upwards and his lips finding hers, Billy kissed her – a sweet kiss that she was helpless to do anything about and which tasted of dusty shelter.

  As they broke loose, the raiders droned into the distance.

  ‘For a split second I forgot where I was,’ she whispered in his ear.

  ‘Aye, it did me the power of good an’ all. Can I do it again?’

  ‘If you want.’

  ‘I’m… engaged, remember.’

  A jocular note was in his tone, but a hint of seriousness too.

  ‘It’s only a kiss, Billy.’

  ‘But it depends.’

  ‘On what?’

  ‘On who you’re kissing and what happens next.’

  ‘It feels as if we’re immune from life down here.’

  He sighed. ‘But we’re not… life will go on after.’

  ‘If we have an after.’

  ‘True.’

  Billy’s groan was heartfelt. ‘Part of me wishes I’d never met you.’

  ‘That’s not very nice.’

  ‘You complicate life. I’ve always been able to love and leave a lass… but I know that’s not going to be true of you.’

  ‘Patter merchant.’

  ‘I’d never kid about something as important as––’

  ‘As what?’

  ‘How I feel about you.’

  An almighty crash came from overhead, as if a building had toppled down, and chunks of debris rained down upon them. Pushing her back on the bed, Billy covered her body with his. As she lay supine under his weight, the doubts came flooding back and, roughly, she pushed him off and sat up.

  ‘You’re not going to dupe me like that.’

  ‘I was doing no such thing. I was trying to protect you.’

  ‘Says you.’

  ‘I don’t know who it was hurt you so badly that you don’t trust anybody but whoever he is… if I laid me hands on him I’d bash the living daylights out of him.’

  He sounded like a bullyboy in the schoolyard and Etty laughed, a tinkling sound that surprised her. Here she was in the midst of destruction, with people cooped up like rats, a shelter that smelt bad enough to make you heave and kiddies who broke your heart crying out in the dark – and what was she doing? Laughing. She really had lost her grip on reality.

  ‘It’s good you can laugh…’ Billy’s voice was lighter. ‘Many a lass would be sobbing her heart out.’

  ‘I’m not any lass.’

  ‘Don’t I know it.’

  He lit a match and, by its little flame, she saw his eyes smouldering in the darkness. The lasses at the factory, she decided, would call them ‘come to bed’ eyes.

  As an exquisite pain rose in her groin, Etty weakened. Here, in this place where they might die, she wanted him to seduce her, but she was torn because in truth, he wasn’t hers to have. But Billy hadn’t taken an oath and this might be her last moment on earth, the voice of temptation told her, and against her better instincts Etty pushed all caution aside.

  ‘I want us to make love,’ she whispered, voice tremoring. She felt like a wanton hussy but she wasn’t party to breaking marriage vows, she reminded herself. And this might be her last chance.

  Silence.

  Then Billy’s husky voice. ‘What about af––’

  She placed a forefinger over his lips. ‘Forget about after. There mightn’t be an after.’

  Billy drew on his cigarette and blew out the smoke. ‘What about that boyfriend of yours?’

  ‘We’ve finished,’ she told him and was surprised at the twinge of regret she felt.

  ‘So, it’s just a case of trying it out in case you don’t make it?’

  ‘This isn’t a time for jokes.’

  ‘Who’s joking? There’s worse we could do.’

  ‘Billy, I’m ignorant, I don’t know––’

  ‘So, you think I do?’

  ‘I’ve got my suspicions, Billy Buckley.’

  ‘Ah… so it’s my experience you’re after?’

  The red glow from his cigarette fell to the ground, and Billy stubbed the end with his boot.

  He took her gently by the shoulders, and in the darkness his lips found hers. Unsure what to do, she raked her fingers through his cropped hair, like she’d seen at the pictures. Yet this was no film; the passion that burned within her was real enough. Billy’s kisses grew more demanding and hurt her lips but she didn’t pull away. He laid her gently back on the bunk bed and, as the metal springs creaked beneath their weight, she stared into the darkness over his shoulder, every nerve in her being craving more. The thought that someone could see them plagued her mind but in the impenetrable darkness she knew they were hidden.

  Then, in the passion of the
moment all thought, save Billy’s roving hands, was forgotten.

  With patience she didn’t know he possessed, Billy undid the little pearl buttons of her blouse and, slipping his roughened hand inside, found her breast. His tongue licked her ear and the side of her neck, each touch imparting a little electric shock.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he whispered in her ear.

  ‘Yes.’

  She drifted back to a dark and horrifying world, where the smell of burning prevailed. It took a moment to realise that the noise outside, growing louder by the second, was that of enemy aircraft as they crossed the marketplace.

  ‘Billy!’ she cried out.

  In the pitch black she reached out for Billy’s hand. He stood by the bunk bed doing up the buttons on his trousers and squeezed her hand.

  As she lay, skirt up around her hips, reality hit Etty. Disgusted, she couldn’t believe what she’d just done. Then, as a sweet ache of pleasure surged her groin, she dismissed her feelings and accepted that what had just taken place was the most wonderful thing.

  That moment, bombs screamed overhead, and instinctively, Etty looked up to the ceiling and held her breath. An ear-splitting explosion followed. In the silence, an eternity passed, when Etty grieved for all that might have been – and strangely, felt too a calm acceptance of whatever would be.

  ‘Mammy!’ A toddler screamed from along the passageway.

  Unexpectedly, Etty’s bed collapsed and she sailed through the air to land with a painful thump. The last thing she remembered was her head cracking against a rock-hard surface.

  She swam up from a pit of nothingness and opened her eyes to inky blackness. Her head ached, debris pinned her down and she could taste grittiness. It took time before she realised that all around her was deathly quiet.

  She wondered how long she’d lain unconscious – minutes, hours – she had no idea. Tentatively, she moved her arms and legs. Miraculously, she appeared to have escaped unharmed. Shakily, she stood up, the debris falling from her.

  ‘Blimey, that was a close call,’ said a woman’s wobbly voice.

  There was the sound of someone moving through rubble. The same voice cried, ‘My God, somebody help! Bill – me husband – he’s not moving!’

  ‘I’m sorry I can’t see anything,’ Etty told the woman in a shaky voice. ‘I’ll try and get help.’

  She stood in the dark and brushed herself down. With the cloying heat and incinerating smell, this must be what hell was like. As she stood on legs that felt as if they’d had the bones removed, a headache pounded and her biggest fear took over – that the walls might cave in. She needed to get out.

  Then she remembered Billy. She’d no way of knowing where he was or if he’d survived or not. She dithered, her muddled mind trying to decide what to do. It was best if she pushed on and found help for those that needed it.

  Voices called out plaintively in the dark, but Etty could do nothing to help them. Stumbling over rubble, she made for what she hoped was the shelter’s entrance. She bumped into others, intent on the same thing and, groping her way along the passageway, found the entrance, only to discover it had taken a direct hit and was impassable. Trapped in the hellhole, Etty, with the other survivors, dug out the earth with bare hands to be free.

  When she touched an exposed shoulder, belonging to a lifeless form, Etty let out a scream. A hand came out of the darkness and slapped her hard across her face, the shock bringing her to her senses.

  Then the ‘all clear’ wailed.

  It took hours for the rescue team to reach them and Etty was one of the last. Her skin caked in dust, her hair soaked in sweat, she reached through the hole where strong arms pulled her out. Thankful for being saved, she breathed in the acrid air. But the world now seemed a more frightening place, and even the moon, soaring high in a clear sky, appeared to have a malevolent face. She then noticed fires raging around the marketplace, the area glowing a terrifying orange.

  Disorientated, Etty gazed around. As far as the eye could see there was bomb damage. With a race of adrenalin, she thought of Dorothy. Was she safe?

  A fireman wrapped a blanket around her.

  ‘Is the bomb damage concentrated in this area? I’ve a sister, you see, who lives in the Westoe area.’

  ‘Steady on, hinny.’ He took by the arm. ‘Chances are your sister’s fine and dandy and worrying about you. Let’s go and get you a cuppa, shall we?’

  He escorted her to a mobile canteen, behind a cordoned off area, where Etty was given a tin mug of hot, sweet tea.

  ‘You’re a lucky lass,’ the fireman took off his helmet and wiping his sweaty brow with the back of his arm, rolled his eyes. ‘Some folk didn’t make it.’ He nodded to a few yards further away, where bodies lay on the ground covered with blankets. Etty shuddered. She thought of the lifeless form she’d touched in the shelter and wished she’d said a prayer. Then, thoughts all over the place, she hoped Dorothy wasn’t frantic about her safety.

  Her gaze turned to the marketplace and the scene of utter destruction. Shops were reduced to rubble, and not a pane of glass was left in St Hilda’s church. The fire had spread to Crofton’s draper store at the corner of King Street and the Grapes Hotel looked dangerously close to falling down. As fires raged and flames leapt against the backdrop of the night sky, firemen fought valiantly to bring them under control.

  But it was the tram, lying buckled and destroyed on the pavement, that Etty found most poignant, and which brought tears to her eyes. She once again felt like the little girl being taken to a strange place by her mother, filled with panic and anxiety, all over again. And for an instant, Etty could swear she smelled Mam’s fragrant perfume.

  Then acrid smoke filled her nostrils. She was one of the lucky ones, she reminded herself, but the fact didn’t help her. She felt only guilt that she’d survived when others hadn’t.

  The fireman, his face blackened, looked done in. He crinkled a smile. ‘I’m glad you’re all reet, Miss.’

  Etty thanked him and, handing him the blanket, began searching the huddles of people for Billy. She prayed he wasn’t back in the shelter buried in the rubble.

  ‘Move along,’ a policeman appeared and told the stricken folk. ‘You can do no good here. Miss, away with you, home,’ he said, as he spotted Etty.

  He was a fresh-faced, decent-looking bloke. Etty wondered what he’d think if he knew what she’d done back in the shelter. Revulsion washed over her. A common slut – that’s what he’d think, and he would be right. Her mind reeled. What about May? The lass didn’t deserve this. Etty despised herself; she’d let everyone down. How could she face people again? Panicked, a new thought terrorised her. What if Billy crowed to his mates back at the barracks? She shivered at the thought.

  Taking a steadying intake of breath, she reminded herself that she was in shock, out of control. Billy had good cause to keep quiet about this night. Besides, he had professed to love her. Why would he want to hurt her?

  ‘What’s the matter, Miss?’ the policeman asked. ‘You look shaken.’

  ‘I’m fine, thank you,’ Etty replied, rather than tell him the truth – that she wished she could start the day over again.

  15

  October 1941

  Etty couldn’t ask May if Billy had survived or not because she thought her fiancé was back at the barracks that night, where he belonged. She had no choice but to resist the urge to sound the alarm, for why stir up a hornet’s nest if there was no need? Nervous and jittery, she did what she always did on fraught occasions – she ate everything in sight until she felt sick.

  On the sixth day after the bombings, Dorothy, a perplexed frown furrowing her brow, said, ‘I’ve seen it before, you’re still in shock.’

  She stood at the kitchen table making pastry for Woolton pie, a dish named after the Minister of Food that consisted of a mixture of potatoes, parsnips and herbs.

  She brushed back her hair with a floury hand while tears welled in her eyes. ‘I never want to go through a night
like that again. I was sick with worry about you.’

  Etty’s memories, of running through rubble-filled streets, bombs crashing overhead, were like reliving snippets of a nightmare. She couldn’t forget the acrid smell that hung over the town, the burnt-out buildings, the firemen, their hoses spewing water on raging fires.

  A hulk of a man, silhouetted against the night sky, had waved a red lamp in the middle of the road, warning of danger ahead.

  As she approached, he told Etty, ‘Careful Hinny, this road’s blocked. Queen Street took a hit and there’s a crater filled with water from a fractured main. Fall down that and you’ll never see the light of day again.’

  An ambulance, its bell ringing, crawled out of the darkness. The man flagged it down and shouted to the driver, ‘Got a lassie here needs assistance.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Etty insisted.

  The exhausted-looking ambulance man didn’t argue the point. ‘Where d’you live?’

  She told him.

  ‘Hop in,’ he said. ‘It’s on me way to the infirmary.’

  Etty couldn’t recall the journey home, or thanking the driver; all she could remember was Dorothy’s face crumpling when she opened the front door.

  Now, as Dorothy rolled out pastry, her face creased in concern.

  ‘It’s natural you haven’t recovered,’ she said, ‘not properly. Buried in that shelter not knowing if you were going to live or die. I do wish you would take some time off work, Etty.’

  ‘I’m fine, honestly. The last thing I need is to be sitting at home, mulling things over.’

  Etty resolved to buck up. The raid had left many dead and hundreds homeless – she was one of the lucky ones. If Billy were dead then he would have died a happy man. Her hands flew to her cheeks. She must be in shock, she thought, if she could be so composed about Billy’s demise.

  It turned out in fact that Billy had survived. Etty received a letter from him two days later. Picking up the post from the doormat, she recognised the sprawling handwriting on the envelope addressed to her. Hands trembling, she tore open the envelope as she made her way back along the passage and into the kitchen. Dorothy, on the late shift, was having a lie-in. Still in her dressing gown, Etty settled on the couch and began to read, her heart thumping.