by Milly Adams
But then exhaustion claimed them all.
Chapter 6
The afternoon draws on
Frank was halfway up the pile of rubble searching for gaps where they could begin another tunnel. The one they were working on had collapsed and sent down a shower of bricks, not that they were about to tell those trapped that small point. Steve was on the other side doing the same. Both of them worked desperately, but carefully, because they couldn’t find the gas valve to stop the flow of gas they were beginning to smell.
Frank was moving on up, investigating with a torch and gingerly withdrawing bricks until he eventually looked across at Steve and nodded. ‘This’ll do you nicely, Skinny Lizzy, come and give me an ’and. You’ll have to do your usual bit, cos there’s been another strike further south, and we’ve lost the rescue unit that were on their way. They’ve been diverted.’
Steve inched down to the ground, then back up to support Frank. They worked methodically, but quickly, testing stability all the time, bracing the side of the tunnel with planks but only when really needed. The weight could bring the whole lot down on top of those trapped. It was a miracle it hadn’t done that when the first lot shifted. Steve eased his shoulders, aware of a headache starting. It was only tiredness and would pass when he could grab a couple of hours’ rest back at the station.
On and on they went, making the girls shout not only to guide them, but also to keep them awake because the smell of gas was now more obvious. Finally, as the afternoon waned, they were ready. Steve threw his jacket down to Dodge, who was waiting on the ground, then tied the rope around his waist. Dodge had handed his hose to an AFS bloke, who held it at the ready in case there was a spark and the whole lot went up. Fat lot of good a hose would do, but it might just damp the flames for a crucial moment, and anyway it made them feel they were doing something. Dodge beckoned the two ambulances closer, but not too close, just in case.
Freezing in his shirt, Steve did what he had done many times before, and edged to the rim of the tunnel at Frank’s signal, working his way down, headfirst, while Frank took up the slack of the rope. While Frank shone a torch into the tunnel Steve removed the bricks blocking his way as he went, placing them in a bucket on a second rope. The bucket was cloaked in hessian to reduce the risk of sparks, and he listened to the creaking of the joists as he made it wide enough to ease the girls and Mr Fisher out when, not if, he reached them. They didn’t deal in ‘if’, he told himself.
As he worked, Steve called out to the girls. ‘I’m tunnelling in at a slant, but always downwards. I warn you, my face will be as red as my hair when you see me. I will pick a way through the final barrier to lower in flasks of water, and a torch, and then widen the hole. Then we’ll haul you out. The alternative was to take the lot down, but this is quicker.’
He thought of the gas. Was it from this shop, or the one that had stood next door? Either way, time was of the essence. ‘You’re dehydrated, and this will help. Answer me if you understand.’
There was silence.
He barked, ‘Chop chop, come on, pull yourselves together, stay awake, help me, and one another. What about you, Sylvia? Were you going to come back and see me, or just leave me with a broken heart?’ He laughed. ‘Come on now, concentrate, let’s have an answer and put a man out of his misery.’ He hoped the use of a name would penetrate as he checked the rope around his waist, tugged on the brick bucket, and used his own torch to see which way to go, because he was blocking Frank’s. The bucket was raised. At last, there it was. ‘Hello, hello.’ It was croaky and weak, but it was a voice.
‘And hello to you, Miss Sylvia. Nice to hear your voice. How are you getting on in there, eh? Having a nice nap while the rest of the world works. It won’t do, you know.’ Steve eased out the next brick as the bucket descended then cursed silently as he saw the way was blocked. ‘Play your torch to the left, Frank.’
It was the end of a joist, and Steve daren’t move it, so he angled behind it, praying the bricks above would remain stable. He thought he caught another whiff of gas; it must be rising through the rubble, so, he asked himself again, were the gas pipes fractured under Solly’s shop or was it working its way through from the neighbour’s? What the hell did it matter? It was here, so chop chop. He cursed Bet’s words, they were too easy to use.
‘Hello?’ he heard again and realised he should have talked more.
‘Is that you again, Coppernob? How is everyone? Try waking them up for me. I’m going to get water through to you soon, how about that?’
There was a sound. It wasn’t a voice but a sob, and he pictured her as he had helped her up from the puddle, her hand in his, those eyes, that hair, her smile. She wasn’t damn well going to die; none of them were. He said, ‘I know, I know, you feel you could drink the canal, I expect. We had your boss here, as you heard, and she’ll be back on it now getting the other girls to where they should be. However, what I need you to do is to keep the others awake, especially Mr Fisher, who is a year or two older than you, so not quite as strong, perhaps.’
Mr Fisher’s voice was hoarse. ‘I heard that, and I’m as spry as the next one, if you don’t mind.’ His voice faded and was lost in the coughing. Steve continued to work, listening to the creaks and the grating of the rubble. He stopped when he heard something crash. ‘Everyone all right?’
This time it was the posh girl. ‘Everything is bloody fine and dandy. Couldn’t want for a better place to spend a few hours.’
Sylvia said, ‘Oh shut up.’ The pair of them laughed, but only for a moment.
Then it was Sylvia again. She was still sort of laughing. ‘They’re all right,’ she said. ‘We daren’t not be, or Bet will worm her way in here and give us what for.’
‘She wants you to telephone her at the depot, wherever that might be, when you get out and let her know when you’re coming back to work. She said you’re to make that quick.’
Sylvia’s laugh was weak. ‘That’s our Bet.’
Steve continued to work furiously. The rope was digging in and chafing his waist but he kept his voice level, though his head was throbbing. It was hanging upside down that did it, he knew, so he had to put on weight then it would be some other bugger upside down getting sliced and diced by the ruddy bricks. But he was glad it was him, this time, because he had sent them this way. He drew in a breath and the dust caught him, mixed with gas. He coughed. He was so bunged up with dust he could barely smell it, and he hoped that the girls and Solly were too, so they’d never know if they went up in smoke. He tugged on the rope, and called, ‘I need a word, Frank.’ Somehow he craned his head so he could see the edge of the hole. Frank leaned over it. ‘Out with it.’
Steve said quietly, so that those trapped couldn’t hear, ‘The gas is worse.’
Frank hung further into the tunnel. ‘Get a bloody move on and I’ll chivvy the lads I sent to help find the bloody stop valve.’
Steve carried on, furiously.
There was silence. He thought quickly, then said, ‘So what’s this about a boat? Strange sort of war work. Important, is it?’
Silence again.
‘Hey, I asked a question, don’t go to sleep on me, Sylvia, I’m not that boring, am I?’
At last she answered. ‘Not a bit boring, unless it’s you boring through the bricks. What do you say, Polly?’
At last he was getting used to the voices. Now Polly was replying, as though dragged from sleep. ‘What I say is that was a dreadful joke, Sylvia, if it could even be called that. Agreed, Verity and Solly?’
Solly grunted, and Verity just about laughed. ‘I agree. We’re called the Idle Women, by rude blokes, Steve. Is that your name? I keep forgetting.’
Steve got his fingers around a stubborn brick and a jagged piece of steel. It was the steel he eased into the bucket first. No sparks, thanks very much, he thought. They were sounding nearer. ‘Steve?’ Sylvia called, suddenly sounding frightened.
‘Yes, I’m still here, course I am. Not about to leave damse
ls in distress, am I? Why the Idle Women?’
‘We are part of the Inland Waterways Scheme. IW, got it?’
‘So you laze about on boats?’
The posh one shouted, ‘When you get us out of here we’ll thank you, then we’ll slap you.’
Steve sort of laughed, but his throat was so dry he couldn’t even swallow. Verity’s voice had sounded louder, so he was close. Very gently he eased out the next few bricks, again reaching for his torch, which was tied to the bucket rope. ‘I’m shining a torch, can you see it? I’m close, you see, very close.’
Solly said, ‘God bless you, lad. I can see some light. Girls, it’s there, shining through.’
Steve called up, ‘Frank, get ready to haul ’em up when I’ve tied them on one at a time. But they’ve got to have a slurp first, they’re about done in.’
The water flasks came down tied to the hauling rope. Frank called, ‘I’ve Dodge here, and the ambulances at the ready. Hurry, you know what is building. I’ve got a whiff now.’
Steve eased out more bricks, relaxing when he saw the network of joists supporting the load. He lowered the water flasks and dangled down his torch. Sylvia said, ‘I’ll pass the water on to Polly, and she can pass it on in turn to try and reach the others. I think she’s close to Solly. It’s hard to see, even with the crack of light you’ve made. We’re covered in bricks, you see.’
Steve’s heart sank. ‘Use the torch to have a good look, there’s my girl.’
There was a pause, and then Solly called, ‘No, it’s all right, lad, there’ll be space enough to get ’em out. The bricks don’t go up to the joist, so they can be eased off by each of us. Just mean we have to do a bit of work, careful like.’
Steve yelled up to Frank, ‘Lower me. I need to get into the space to help and I’ll send up some more bricks, to make it easier.’
Frank yelled, ‘Gotcha, but get a bloody move on, me tea’ll be cold and the missus will give me ’ell.’
The girls laughed, and judging from the strength of the laughter, the water had revived them. There was no way Steve was going to tell them it wasn’t Frank’s tea the Rescue Squad bloke was worried about. He was lowered another few feet, into and through the hole. ‘Afternoon, girls,’ he said, hanging headfirst and grabbing the dangling torch, playing it over the scene. They were half lying, near but not on one another, covered in brick and plaster dust, drinking from the flasks, but also moving bricks.
‘Do it very very carefully,’ he said.
Solly was nearest. Steve left the torch switched on but hanging free, and asked the old man to try and shift a piece of wood that lay half over his legs while Steve helped. ‘On three,’ Steve said.
The activity didn’t create an avalanche, but Solly groaned, and Steve could see the angle of his right leg. He tugged his rope and called, ‘Let me right down, I need to be in the hole to help. Mr Fisher’s coming up first. I’ll tie him on.’
Frank let the rope out and Steve landed on all fours, with the joists just above him. He left the dangling torch on, and its beam swayed from side to side, highlighting the girls. He saw Sylvia was covered in dust, her face and hair grey with it. Is that how she’d look when she was Solly’s age? For a wild moment he hoped he was at her side to see. What the hell was the matter with him? He’d only just met her. Must be the gas. But even as he thought this, he was dragging a smaller torch from his pocket and flashing it around. Then he propped it up on rubble so he had visibility from a different angle.
‘Now, let’s see if you girls mind the man going first? Not good manners, but Solly is nearest to the tunnel.’
Sylvia, who was moving a brick off her shoulder, looked up. ‘We’ll let it happen just this once,’ she murmured, smiling. The dust coating her face like a mask cracked as she did so. Steve wanted to wipe it clear. Instead he smiled back, his gaze fixated on her as he crawled to Solly, and for a moment it seemed everything stopped, even in this hell, for the mask cracked further as her smile widened, the propped-up torch shining its beam full on her. Her eyes were green/hazel and they were kind and deep, and they brought him peace. Solly said, ‘When you’re quite ready, son.’
Steve turned back to the task, a brick in his hand, wondering what the hell he was playing at, but it had only been a split second, after all. He snatched a look back at Sylvia, and she was still watching him. Again they smiled at one another, but all the time he was easing the rubble from Solly, who grinned at him, his dust mask cracking slightly too, and winked. ‘Not the right sort of place to meet someone like that, is it, son?’ he said quietly. ‘But in this world, in these times, you have to grab them moments when you can, cos yer never know what’s about to happen.’
‘Ah,’ said Steve, equally quietly. ‘But we’ve already met before, an hour ago, and I do know what’s going to happen: you’re all going to be rescued, that’s what.’ The pair of them laughed and now Steve removed the last broken brick, and said, ‘Come on then, old timer, it’s going to hurt like buggery but let’s see if you can drag yourself to our escape hatch, and then I’ll tie a rope around you. Keep your head down, though.’
Solly puffed and panted as he crawled to the hole, but never complained as Steve tied the rope around the old man’s waist, then said, ‘I’m going to tug, and they’ll lift you, just keep your head down as you go up, and your arms in front. Trust them.’
Frank called down, ‘Quick as you like with the others, Steve.’ Solly was pulled up through the hole.
Steve moved into Solly’s space. ‘It’s like dominoes,’ he said to the girls. ‘We’ll take each of you in turn, letting the others all fall over to here, as it were.’
He undid his own rope and eased the bricks from over and around Polly, who winced as several, including a broken piece of joist, were taken from her arm. She opened and shut her hand, moving her arm a little. Her shoulder and top were stained with blood. Steve worked fast, freeing her from the last of them. Her trousers were torn and blood-stained too. ‘See if you can crawl to the opening, when I’ve sorted this,’ he told her. He wound a length of bandage around her arm, nodded, and she crawled off. He followed, catching the rope Frank had sent down, calling, ‘Mr Fisher’s safe, chop chop.’
Steve tied it round Polly. ‘Tug on the rope,’ he said, starting back to the others immediately. She did, and up she went as the other rope came dangling through the hole.
The blonde girl, called Verity as he now knew, was already easing free of her bricks, and the swaying torch glinted on a piece of metal overhead. Steve called, ‘Let me. We don’t want that crashing on to anything.’
Verity looked at him. ‘I bet we don’t.’ Their eyes met, and she nodded. ‘No sparks, eh?’ she muttered.
Sylvia was also shifting the bricks off her body. ‘I thought I smelt gas.’
Verity’s arm was dangling and dripping blood. ‘Broken?’ Steve asked.
Verity shook her head. ‘Numb. It’s going to be the worst case of pins and needles anyone has ever had any minute now, darlings.’
‘You’re not wrong there.’ Steve was on his knees, his head just below the joists, which were creaking. They had to get out, and soon.
He helped her to the tunnel, then tied the rope around her. ‘Careful, now. Folded arms, head down. Trust ’em.’
Verity nodded. ‘Thank you for everything, if I don’t have time to say it later.’
Steve grinned, wanting to say, ‘Just go.’ Instead he said calmly, ‘See you topside.’ He wasn’t a bit sure he would. Well, he thought, as the gas grew more pungent, that’s what this job means.
He turned, to see Sylvia halfway through removing a mountain of bricks and wooden stays, but then she lay back, coughing, trying to grab a breath.
‘Let me,’ Steve said, inching towards her. He removed enough of the stays, and the final few bricks, and laid them down as though they were the most fragile porcelain. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘We must hurry, and you must go first, because you’ve saved us all and it wouldn’t be fair if––
’
Steve stared at her, overwhelmed. ‘It’s my job to get you out. Hurry, now.’
Sylvia shook her head. ‘No, it should be you.’
‘Come on – over to the tunnel, the sooner you go, the sooner I can.’
She dragged herself along, with him in her wake. He tied the dangling rope around her, their heads close together. ‘Thank you, Coppernob,’ Sylvia breathed. ‘But hurry, please.’
He looked at her. They were so close that he could see she’d split her lip and the blood had stained her dust mask, just as the cuts of the other girls had stained theirs, and Solly’s too. He said, ‘You’re welcome, Coppernob yourself. Off you go.’ He tugged, and up she went. He called after her, ‘Head down, arms in, trust them.’
‘Hurry up, Fireman Steve,’ she called.
He watched as she went up. A second rope was thrown down. Good old Frank. He could tie it on while she was being hauled to the surface, and who knew, he might make it, they all might. He waited for Sylvia to be hauled clear, wondering how he could meet someone and so soon feel he had known her all his life, and want to live the rest of his life with her? Was it these times, as Solly had said? Probably. Everything was so different. At last Frank called, ‘The girls are well clear. Up you come.’
But the smell of gas was bad now and behind him he heard a sound and turned. A steel joist was on the point of falling, and there would be sparks.
‘Could be you and me, Dog, setting off on a journey,’ he murmured, sadness enveloping him, because when he looked at Sylvia, he had thought there could be a future for them, and an end to his strange loneliness.
Once on the ground the girls had been offered stretchers but refused them. ‘Bet would never let us live it down,’ Polly said to the medic. He didn’t understand but hustled them, limping and stumbling, to the ambulances. They were helped up into the back, and each in turn collapsed on to the side-beds, just as though they were in their cabins, and it felt like home, but smelt of disinfectant, not the cut. ‘Solly?’ asked Sylvia.