by Milly Adams
She tried to swallow but couldn’t. She whispered, ‘We’re so thirsty. So very thirsty. We could drink the cut dry.’
Solly yelled then, ‘She says she could drink the cut dry, whatever the ’ell that means, but I could do with a slurp an’ all.’
Polly heard a voice call back. ‘Don’t matter what it means, Mr Fisher, just as long as you’re all still with us. Someone’s telling your son. We’re tunnelling through the rubble and sending someone in soon as we can with water, and then getting you all out. Or that’s what we hope. Depends how it pans out, but if it doesn’t, we’ll try another way. You do your bit by staying – well, staying alive.’
Polly had stopped listening, because she was travelling along the cut, leaning over and drinking the cool water, drinking and drinking. Silence had fallen. She tried to call, and finally whispered, ‘Is everyone all right?’ Stupid, she thought. Of course they weren’t all right, but she needed to sleep, that’s all. Suddenly she wasn’t even thirsty any more and for a moment thought she could hear the lapping of the water and the rocking of the boat and hear the pat-patter of the engine. Perhaps she was dying, but it didn’t matter. Nothing did, and she could no longer see Saul’s face.
Bet waited for one more minute on Hillview, ignoring the biting wind and looking at the smoke rising from the second blast. The two spirals had met, and mushroomed, and now the wind was sweeping them way beyond the cut. Where were the girls? Had they phoned? She should have left but had somehow not been able to, and then the second rocket landed, but of course it wouldn’t hit them, not her girls. One set of boats was enough, one team almost wiped out was damned well enough.
But they weren’t back. Why? She jumped on to the bank. ‘That’s it, I can’t hang about here a minute longer.’
Mabel stared at her from the counter. ‘Thank heavens for that. We could be hit any minute. But why are you releasing the mooring strap? It’s usually my job.’
Bet stood there, hands on her hips. She should have limped back to the depot long ago when she turned the motor to head west again. But no. If she knew those girls, and she damned well did, if everything was all right they’d have scuttled back to the boats by now, full of their adventures, with Dog bounding ahead as though she’d had adventures too. She should take Evelyn and Mabel out of the danger zone, but she couldn’t leave her four girls. Why oh why had she asked them to find a phone? How dare two rockets come down so damn close.
She looked at her crew. ‘Get under that bridge,’ she said, and pointed fifty yards further on. ‘Get under there, it’s as good as an air raid shelter. I won’t be long, I promise, then we’ll get out of here.’
Evelyn came out on to the counter. ‘It’s the afternoon, Bet. If we don’t go now we’ll be struggling along in the dark long before we reach the depot, and it’s terribly frightening here. There might be more rockets, and it’s so cold now that it’ll be perishing. Just look at the tarpaulin over the cabin, it’s going to break free in this wind, and we’ll freeze.’
Bet swung round, shouting, ‘Just leave the ruddy boat and get under the bridge and think of the girls. What if they were caught up with the V2? What then? I asked them to find a telephone box, after all. We’ll just moor up when it gets dark as usual, what’s so difficult with that concept, for God’s sake?’ To her own horror, and the girls’, Bet’s voice broke, and she ran desperately towards the smoke.
Bet slogged through the streets where front doors were firmly closed. Through some windows the occasional dim light showed on this murky smoke-drenched afternoon, now ‘dimout’ was in force. It was a London without children, but a bit of light, and it was this she concentrated on. The breath was jogging in her chest but at least she was free of infection, which was such an arse. Yes, that was more like her, not that snivelling idiot who had just put on such a ridiculous performance.
She followed the noise of shouts, engines, vehicle doors slamming and found the first crater. She shouted to a fireman sluicing down the road with his hose, ‘Have you seen three girls and a dog?’
He gestured and shouted, ‘Follow the smoke.’ He sounded so exhausted she thought he was actually asleep on his feet, and there was probably another emergency on the way and he’d be called to somewhere else, poor bugger.
Bet ran on, and on, drawn by the rising smoke and the sounds of rescue work, passing newly damaged houses, but also others that were untouched. It was so arbitrary, this damned V2 and its blast. At last she reached a tape encircling a scene of bustling ambulance men, rescue workers and firefighters. A solitary policeman was patrolling the tape but Bet merely lifted it and strode towards the centre as though she owned the place. All the while she was searching for Dog; for where Dog was, the girls would be.
‘Get back, lassie!’ the police constable yelled. ‘What the hell are you doing this side of the tape?’
He must have run after her and was now barring her way. Bet was staring past him at the huge piles of rubble on which rescue and firemen were working. ‘Was there a phone box where any of this rubble is?’
She was gripping his arm. The police constable pointed. ‘Aye, over there.’
Bet felt her heart almost stop. Her arm fell, and her legs gave way. The policeman reached out and held her up. ‘Steady as you go.’
‘Who’s beneath the rubble?’ Bet managed to mutter.
‘A couple or so lassies, and an old boy, Solly Fisher or something like that. He had the second-hand furniture shop, which they were in cos the phone box had been robbed by scunners. They were talking to the fire crew back where the first one hit, the lassies were, just an hour or so ago.’
The policeman was old, his face smudged with sooty smoke. He followed her line of sight. ‘We’ve got most of ’em out of the flats, now it’s just the lasses and the old ’un, but it’s a bad ’un, and they’ve gone awful quiet, so we hear.’
Bet drew herself up. ‘But they’re alive, as far as you know?’
‘Couldn’t swear to that. Gone quiet, they have as I just said, you see.’
‘Of course I damned well see, but it means nothing, you hear. Nothing.’ Around them the men worked on, shoring up fronts, clearing a route through, continuing to hose the road clear of the remnants of debris, or something far worse. A couple of ambulances waited near the rubble, for her girls.
The policeman saw her looking, and his voice was gentle. ‘The ambulances’ll stay unless there’s another emergency in the area.’
She nodded. ‘I am going over there, and I will give my girls an order, do you understand. I was their trainer, and we can’t afford to lose a canal boat team.’
This time it was she holding his arms. He nodded. ‘I’ll come with you. Under the rubble, it’s hard to stay hopeful, even if …’ He trailed off. Then he looked into her face and shoved his shoulders back. ‘Aye lass, it can’t do any harm.’
Together they walked, and he said, ‘Wipe your face, it’s so cold your tears will create chaps.’
Bet’s laugh was shaky. ‘We can’t have chaps created. Heavens, whatever next.’ She accepted his handkerchief, wiped her cheeks. ‘I won’t blow my nose, you’ll be pleased to hear.’
He grinned. ‘It’s the missus who’ll be pleased.’ He shoved his handkerchief, smeared with soot, back in his pocket, and together they stopped at the foot of the rubble, some of which had been Mr Fisher’s shop. The policeman called out to the workers, ‘Can we have a bit of hush for a moment? Got the lassies’ boss here, to give a word of encouragement. All right with you, Stan?’
Stan nodded, his face dragged down with exhaustion. ‘Give it a rest, lads. Let’s get off on to the ground, and take a few minutes’ break for any necessaries, and then top yer bladders up again with a drink of water. Mrs Walters from over the way said we can use her lav.’ They eased back down to the ground, and a couple made their way to the house.
Bet stood, trying to sort out her words, but the background noise was chaotic. She couldn’t think, so just tried to relax. Almost immediately sh
e knew what she must do, and her furious dictatorial yell rose above all else.
‘I’m not having you messing about down there, you girls. Get yourselves back on duty, we need you, the country needs you. We’ve aluminium or wood to be collected and delivered and darts matches to be won. We can’t have Timmo and his team taking over the ruddy lead. So, chop chop, do you hear me.’
Stan, standing by the ambulances with Steve, looked shocked as her words roared across the site, and the policeman stepped back as though he was about to be hit. Bet nodded at him. ‘They’re my girls, I trained them for the canal work, they’ll understand an order. I want nothing more than to stay and see them safe, but I have a duty to my new trainees and need to get them away from this hellhole.’ By shouting Bet had jolted herself into her responsibilities; now she felt ashamed. ‘And these girls,’ she pointed to the rubble, ‘have boats which are still serviceable, while mine are damaged. Now, where’s Dog? I’ll keep her on my boat till the girls are up and running.’
The policeman shrugged and called out to Stan, ‘Reckon she’s going to start giving orders to the dog too. He’d better be sitting when he’s told, or she’ll be yellin’ at him. She’s going to take it on to her boat, so she says. Better be quick about an answer or it’ll be your turn for a bollocking.’
Bet snapped. ‘Dog’s not an it, or a he, Dog is a she.’
Steve Bates, standing next to Stan, looked up, shouting across, ‘You’re quite right, Dog is a she, your coppernob told me that.’
Looking from Bet to Steve, who was taking another sip from a flask, Stan muttered something, patting Steve’s back. Steve nodded, and shook out the last drops as he crunched over the debris to Bet’s side. ‘I’ll take you to Dog,’ he almost whispered, his face sad.
Together they walked to the cab of the pump engine, and Bet heaved herself up into the doorway. She stared down at the tarpaulin. It took her a moment to realise, and the shock was like a blow. She wouldn’t cry, of course she wouldn’t. Good God, she’d blubbed more today than she had for years.
Steve said as he looked up at her from the road, ‘She’s been a great dog, sniffing at the rubble, finding people since the first rocket came down, but copped it herself when this bugger hit – but not before she’d found her girls. They were hers too, you know, not just yours. There’s one with hair like mine, a coppernob too––’ He kicked at a piece of brick as Bet looked down at him.
He stood straight, staring at her, full in the face. ‘You can have Dog, but only if you treat her well. You’ve got to find a nice place to bury her, where they can visit, because we will get ’em out. If we possibly can.’
Bet eased herself down, removed her top sweater, and stepped up to the cab door again. Carefully she wrapped Dog in the sweater, crooning, ‘A nice comfortable blanket for you, our lovely Dog.’
Steve helped her down and tucked up one of the sleeves around Dog, stroking her head. She was so cold. Bet ground out, ‘It will be possible to save them because you will make it so, do you understand?’ Steve smiled, and stroked Dog one more time, his grimy hand trembling.
Bet said much more quietly, leaning towards him, wanting him to really understand how grateful she was, and how important the girls were, ‘Thank you, for all you’ve done and will continue to do. I don’t know, but can guess how dangerous it is for you. Those three girls mean the world to me, and to many others. And this girl does too, so I thank you for keeping her warm, and safe for us.’
‘But she’s not …’ Steve’s voice trailed away as Bet looked down at Dog. Bet said, ‘She has been wrapped up by you, so that will have warmed her soul. I will lay her down in our orchard in Buckby, which she loves, but we will not tell the girls, will we, not yet.’ It was not a question, but another order. ‘You will save them, they will be taken to hospital, and as far as they know, Dog will be with Fran at Buckby. It is not a lie, but we can’t have them more hurt than they are already. No broken hearts on my watch, do you hear, no weight of grief too hard to carry, a weight that could take hope away and stop survival, and subsequent recovery. Remember the name, Fran, at Buckby. Now I must go.’
With that she walked away, and Dog was no weight to carry. Darling Dog. Then she stopped, and returned, standing at the foot of the rubble. She lifted her head again and raised her voice. ‘Chop, chop, girls, there’s work to be done. No lazing about taking a break when others are hard at work.’
She said to Steve, ‘Tell ’em they’re to get fit to run the boats without delay. Tell them to phone the depot when they reach the hospital, or perhaps you could phone for them to tell me the state of play. If I hear nothing, I will know …’ She shrugged. ‘I can’t wait, I have to take my other girls to safety, and then get on with the job. There’s a war on. You do understand?’
For a moment she thought she sounded as though she was pleading. Steve nodded, but didn’t dare pat her arm. She might bite off his hand – or cry, and that would be worse from such as her. ‘Of course, it’s like us, we have to get the job done, in spite of … I’ll make sure the depot knows, though what depot I haven’t a clue. But the girls’ll tell me. Or not. And if not, you’ll understand what’s happened.’
They stared into one another’s eyes. Bet nodded. ‘You’re a good boy, and our coppernob is a good girl. She’s lonely, though she doesn’t know it, or I don’t think she does. You and she would do very well together, and I say this because you mention that you noticed her.’
She spun on her heel and walked off, with Steve looking after her, aware he’d been given another order, but one of which he approved.
Sylvia had jerked awake at the sound of Bet’s voice. ‘Bet, Bet,’ she tried to shout, but she couldn’t speak for a moment. She tried again and heard movement from the other two; they also called, but the combined sound was little more than a whisper. Sylvia muttered, feeling some strength flowing through her at last, splitting her lips as she found she was smiling, ‘She gets everywhere like a ruddy rash.’
Polly’s laugh was stronger now as she croaked, ‘Miss Sylvia Simpson, you so seldom swear. I will tell on you, and Bet will put you in the corner.’
Verity’s voice was a bit stronger as she called, ‘We need to get out of this hellhole first. I apologise, Solly, it was probably a lovely cellar, with a perfectly lovely coal hole, but there comes a time in the affairs of boaters …’
Sylvia and Polly croaked, ‘Oh, do shut up.’
Polly continued, as Sylvia coughed and tried to draw breath. ‘Let’s all shout, so she can hear us, or someone can, just so they know we want to get out.’
Solly growled, ‘I reckon they knows that, gal.’
Nonetheless, all four yelled, ‘Hello, hello, we’re still in here.’
There was no answer, but then they sensed movement above, and heard the scrabbling of feet. ‘Oh, so Iron Drawers got your attention, did she? Woke you up, brought you back into the land of the living. Sitting to attention, are you? She’s gone, got to take her girls and boats on, she says. Says you’re to get a move on and pick up a load, soon as. Chop, chop, she says.’
Polly replied, ‘That sounds like Bet. Is that Coppernob?’
‘No, it’s Frank. I’ve taken over from Stan, and Coppernob does as I say. Right now he’s seeing your boss off the premises, so to speak, so we can all relax. The plan is, if you remember, that we’re going to tunnel in between the joists to get water to you and make sure you keep awake. We’d thought of coming in through the coal hole but it’s jammed with rubble and we don’t want to disturb things more’n we ’ave to.’
Suddenly a joist cracked and crashed. They listened as rubble tumbled, then stopped. ‘Some bricks must have slid along a joist,’ Sylvia whispered. She gathered her strength and called to Solly. ‘You all right, Solly?’
He grunted. ‘Them bricks slid off to where the coal came in.’
Polly’s voice was hoarse, ‘Are you untouched, Sylvia, and you, Verity?’
‘Broken but unbowed,’ called Verity.
&n
bsp; Polly croaked a laugh. ‘A simple yes or no, drama queen.’
Sylvia called, ‘It’s too dark to see if the joists have moved closer to us, Frank.’ She started coughing.
Frank called, ‘Don’t you worry, we know what we’re doing. Just stay where you are and we’ll get to you. Mr Fisher, we have your son, Jacob, here. He’s worried about his inheritance, and says you can’t pop your clogs till you show him where yer will is.’ Frank’s laugh was loud. ‘I’ll get him to shout to you, then I’ll get the men back on the job.’
There was a pause and Verity muttered, ‘Stay where we are? Where exactly does Frank think we might move to?’
The other two girls, and this time Solly too, said, ‘Shut up.’ Their laughter was weak, as were their voices and they were cold; they all hurt, and their strength was ebbing again. They wanted to sleep for ever, but they mustn’t. Bet had said they must get back to work, chop chop.
A man’s voice called, ‘Dad, Dad, it’s Jacob. I told you it was time you came to live with us. I’m pleased to see the V2 thought the same. Where’s your will? Gone up in smoke, or at the solicitor?’
Solly was chuckling quietly. He said, ‘That’s my boy.’
‘Dad, Dad, did you hear me? I love you, Dad. Stop buggering about and get out of there.’
Solly muttered, ‘I will, my boy. I will.’ He was quiet, too quiet. Sylvia shouted suddenly, ‘Come on, Mr Fisher, you must set an example. Answer him properly, chop chop.’ The shout exhausted her.
For a moment there was silence, then Mr Fisher rallied, saying, ‘I love you too, boy, and you don’t need my will, cos I’m coming out to spend all my money, just so you don’t get it.’
They heard distant laughter, then Jacob called again, ‘Dad, make sure you do. We’ve got to find Emmanuel, remember? You can’t both get blasted by a rocket. I know he’s my father-in-law but he’s a nice old boy. Got to get the Red Cross onto it, and that was to be your job.’
Mr Fisher whispered, ‘Gone missing ‘e has.’
‘So sorry,’ Sylvia whispered back.