by Ellie Dean
‘I’d ask you in, but . . .’
Kath grinned. ‘It’s all right, Julie. I understand. How about we meet for a cup of tea or something tomorrow afternoon? There’s a nice little café just opposite the hospital.’
‘I’d like that,’ said Julie, returning the grin. ‘About three?’
‘You’re on, and good luck with Mrs Reilly. TTFN,’ Kath added cheerfully, and hurried back along Camden Road.
Julie knocked on Eileen’s door, then, after several anxious minutes, had to knock again. What on earth was she doing? Had she gone out and left William alone? She was about to knock for the third time when, with a sigh of relief, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
Eileen silently opened the door then headed back upstairs. ‘You’d better have a key,’ she said as she gained the landing. ‘I can’t keep running up and down these stairs all day.’
‘I’ve just popped in with me cases and to check on William before I try to secure our lodgings,’ said Julie, as she lugged the cases upstairs. ‘How has he been?’
‘He’s been asleep, thankfully, so I was able to catch up on some of my important paperwork.’
Julie crossed the sitting room and looked down at the sleeping baby. Resisting the urge to cuddle and kiss him, she turned back to Eileen. ‘What is it you do exactly?’ she asked.
‘I work as personal assistant to the head of the town council. It is a demanding and important post, which keeps me at the heart of all local policy-making and in direct touch with government legislation. That is all I am permitted to tell you.’
‘It seems you’ve come a long way from working as a typist at the tool factory,’ said Julie. ‘Well done.’
Eileen made no comment as she sat down at the table by the window and gathered the papers strewn across it. ‘Have you found accommodation? You’ve been gone a long time.’
Julie told her about the offer of a bed at the Town Hall, and her hopes of being taken in by Peggy Reilly. ‘There are still a couple of hours before you have to go out, so I thought I’d go to the surgery next. I want to introduce meself to the doctors and pick up my duty schedule as well as some sort of map of Cliffehaven. The town’s bigger and more spread out than I thought, so I hope they’ll provide me with a bicycle.’
Eileen placed the papers in a sturdy briefcase which she locked with a snap. ‘I have a perfectly good map you may borrow,’ she said, ‘but I expect it back as soon as you’ve made yourself familiar with the area.’ She reached across to the crammed bookshelf, found the map and handed it over.
‘Thank you.’ Julie tucked the map into her coat pocket. ‘So, is it all right if I leave William here a bit longer?’
‘I suppose so.’
Julie remembered the flask of formula she’d stowed in her gas-mask box and pulled it out. ‘If he wakes, just pour three ounces of this into a clean bottle.’ She rummaged in her case and found one, setting it beside the flask on the couch. Hesitating momentarily, she added a clean napkin. ‘He might need changing . . .’
‘I might not like babies, but I do know my way around one,’ Eileen said impatiently. ‘Being the eldest sister, I used to help with you and Fran.’
Julie looked into those cold eyes and thought she saw something flicker there, but it was too fleeting to identify. ‘Thanks, Eileen,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll be back as soon as I can.’
‘See that you are.’ Eileen took the key from the table and held it out. ‘I want that back first thing tomorrow.’
Julie pocketed the key and checked on William, then hurried down the stairs. She was aching with hunger now, but it would have to wait until she was certain she had somewhere to sleep the following night.
Peggy wearily stepped out of her elderly friends’ house where she’d been cooking and cleaning for most of the afternoon, and took a deep, welcoming breath of fresh air. The house had been damaged in a tip-and-run raid the day before, and Jim and Ron had done as much as they could to cover the gaping hole in their roof, make the chimney safe and bring most of their furniture downstairs. The poor old dears were very confused, and simply couldn’t cope with all the dust and debris that littered the two habitable rooms, so Peggy had stayed long after Jim had gone off to his work as a projectionist at the Odeon cinema, and helped to scrub the place clean and make sure they at least had a hot meal.
She wrapped her coat about her as she hurried through the gathering gloom towards home. Bert and Mabel were a lovely old couple in their eighties and had lived in Cliffehaven all their lives. They’d been married for over sixty years and refused to be evacuated to their daughter’s in Scotland, but Peggy was worried that they weren’t eating properly or looking after themselves, especially now that the district nurse had left to join the medical corps.
She closed her front door behind her and leaned against it for a moment to catch her breath. Dragging off her filthy headscarf, she hung her coat on the rack in the hall and kicked off her shoes. She felt grubby from head to foot and just hoped there was enough hot water for a bath.
Anne and Mrs Finch were preparing a supper of fried mince, onions, potatoes and leeks, and Peggy blessed their kindness. ‘I left them both with a nice hot meal,’ she said, sinking into the armchair by the range, ‘but I worry about them, I really do.’
‘You look all in, Mum,’ said Anne, turning from the range where she was frying the mince. ‘Here, have a cup of tea and forget about everyone else for a bit.’
‘Thanks, darling,’ she said gratefully as she took the cup and cradled it in her dirty hands. ‘I’ll drink this and then have a bath.’
‘There’s plenty of water,’ chirped Mrs Finch. ‘The girls haven’t come in yet.’
Anne tipped the mince mixture into a large pie dish and began to cover it in mashed potato. ‘It’s a bit early to put this in the oven, so I think I’ll go for a bit of a walk,’ she murmured. ‘The baby’s been restless today and I need to stretch my legs and get some fresh air.’
Peggy regarded her anxiously. ‘It’s getting quite dark out there, Anne. Don’t go too far, will you?’
‘I’m not planning a route march, Mum,’ Anne teased, ‘just a gentle stroll down to the seafront to ease the aches and pains.’
‘Pains?’ Peggy said sharply.
‘Just the same little niggles and aches that I’ve had for weeks,’ Anne soothed. ‘Enjoy your bath and I’ll be back before you know it.’
Peggy caught Mrs Finch’s eye as Anne left the room. ‘I suppose it won’t do any harm,’ she sighed, ‘but I don’t like the sound of those aches and pains.’
‘You worry too much,’ said Mrs Finch. ‘Anne’s a bright girl, she knows what’s best.’
Peggy gave a deep sigh and then finished her tea. ‘Where’s Ron?’
‘Out with Harvey and his old man’s army,’ said Mrs Finch, with an impish smile. ‘All spruced up in his uniform so he can go and court that Rosie Braithwaite at the Anchor when he’s finished his silly manoeuvres.’
Peggy smiled. Rosie Braithwaite was the landlady of the Anchor, a delightful, glamorous woman of indeterminate age whom Ron had lusted after for years, and who seemed to enjoy the chase. She dragged herself out of the comfortable chair. ‘I’m glad he’s got Rosie to spar with,’ she murmured. ‘At least she keeps a spring in his step and a twinkle in his eye – and that’s got to count for something in these dark times.’
She walked barefooted into the hall and went into her bedroom where she gathered clean clothes together before traipsing up the stairs to the first-floor bathroom. Locking the door behind her, she pulled the blackout curtain, turned on the light and lit the boiler, which always threatened to singe the lashes and brows of the uninitiated.
She sat on the edge of the bath and turned the taps, once again thanking her lucky stars for the luxury of an indoor bath. It was worth every hard-earned penny, but she did wish the government restrictions allowed more than just a couple of inches of water to soak in.
She sighed as she stripped off her f
ilthy clothes and left them in a pile on the linoleum. ‘At least I no longer have to sit in a tin tub in front of the kitchen range,’ she muttered, ‘and that’s a blessing if ever there was one.’
The cold little room filled with steam and she daringly let the water rise to four inches before turning off the taps with a silent promise to make up for her selfishness by using the water to soak Ron’s vegetable patch.
Sinking into the enveloping warmth, she slid down until the water lapped at her ears, and then closed her eyes. Peace, perfect peace – at last.
Julie had decided the doctors didn’t need to know about William just yet. There was little point in rocking the boat before she’d managed to sort out accommodation and a babysitter, but time was running out, and she was all too aware of how very difficult things would get if she had to move into the Town Hall.
As it was Saturday afternoon, there was no surgery, and the elderly Dr Sayers had welcomed her warmly and shown her into his consulting room. They had struck up an instant rapport, and Julie was pleased at how well this initial interview was going.
She sat patiently and waited for him to finish reading Matron’s letter of introduction. Kath’s description suited him admirably, for he was a natty, wholesome-looking man in his seventies, with impeccably groomed white hair and beard, the moustache twirled and waxed, his eyebrows brushed into sweeping wings above friendly grey eyes. He wore a tweed suit and matching waistcoat, with a gold watch-chain looped across his flat midriff, and the hands that held the letter were square and capable, the nails clean and short. He exuded confidence and kindness, and she had no doubt that he was beloved by his patients.
‘That all seems in order,’ he said in a deep baritone. ‘I must say, your application arrived at the most opportune moment, Sister Harris. Our district nurse left almost a month ago, and it’s been almost impossible to find her replacement.’ He gave her a friendly smile. ‘You’ll find things a bit quieter here than in London, but I can promise you’ll be kept busy.’
‘I like being busy,’ she assured him. ‘Are there other nurses linked to the practice, or will I be on me own?’
‘There are two young volunteers, and Sister Beecham is my practice nurse. She is in overall charge of the nursing side of things, so you’ll refer to her regarding your schedule and so on. We will of course provide you with a uniform and bicycle.’ He grinned. ‘Cliffehaven is quite spread out, and very hilly, so I hope you’ve got strong legs.’
Julie chuckled. ‘I’ve cycled most of London, so I think I can manage.’
He pushed back from his leather chair, picked up the briar pipe that lay in a nearby ashtray and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. ‘Welcome aboard, Sister Harris. We’ll see you bright and early Monday morning.’
His handshake was dry and firm and Julie left the house feeling rather lucky to have such a pleasant doctor in charge. She had yet to meet his son, or the practice sister, but she was sure she’d get along with them too, for the whole place had a happy, homely atmosphere.
As she stepped out of the front door and headed for the gate, she looked at the luminous dial on her watch. It was almost six o’clock and the only light was from the moon. Mrs Reilly was bound to be at home by now. She hurried into the little park which had been turned into one huge allotment, then jumped as the wail of a nearby siren started up. Her thoughts raced. She was too far from William to get to him, and she had no idea where the nearest public shelter was, or where Eileen might take him. If she ran fast enough, perhaps she could intercept her?
Her heart was pounding as she ran through the darkness and emerged from the park, disorientated and unsure in the blackout of how to get back to the flat. This wasn’t the same road she’d come in from – where was the church, the High Street? She scrabbled in her pocket for Eileen’s map, but it was too dark to read it.
She dithered, the panic rising as more sirens began to wail throughout the town. And then she heard the shout of a warden, and was caught up in the hurrying mass of people who seemed to be heading towards what looked like a playing field. She tried to battle against the tide, her fear for William growing, her need to get to him paramount. But the warden had grabbed her arm and was propelling her along, yelling at her to get a move on. There was no way to escape this surging mass of humanity.
Searchlights were spluttering into life, their phosphorescent fingers criss-crossing the clear, starlit sky. Eileen must have left with William by now, she reasoned as she was swept along. All she could do was pray she’d keep him safe.
The field lay to the north of the little park, the shelter dug deep beneath the ground and surrounded by walls of sandbags. Julie’s breath came in sharp gasps as the jostling crowd carried her inexorably down the steep concrete steps and into its depths as the first ack-ack guns shot tracers of red into the sky.
The underground shelter was poorly lit and smelled damp, but there were benches and chairs, and the floor had been concreted. Burlap screens had been set around buckets to provide makeshift lavatories, the stink of the chemicals inside them pervading the vast cavern. Julie found a space by the door and desperately searched for sight of Eileen and William, but in the gloom and the crush, it was impossible to see anything clearly.
She shivered as the warden slammed the door shut and turned the locking wheel that would effectively seal them in. She hated that sound, hated the claustrophobia of so many people crammed in together – hated the thought of how far underground they were, and how swiftly they could all be crushed. But most of all she feared for William – the noise and the strange surroundings would terrify him, and Eileen wouldn’t know how to soothe him. She might even lose her patience and . . .
She closed her eyes and willed the raid to be over quickly, but even as she prayed, she could hear the sound of enemy aircraft overhead, the rat-a-tat-tat of the local guns and the booms of the Bofors she’d glimpsed on the seafront and along the cliffs. Was Cliffehaven the target tonight, or poor old London? Either way, William was in as much danger here as anywhere, and she had to trust that her sister would protect him.
When Peggy heard the siren, she grabbed their coats and the box she kept ready with supplies, and quickly helped Mrs Finch down the cellar steps and into the garden. Rita and the other two girls would stay on duty until the raid was over; Jim was at the cinema and Ron was probably at the Anchor. ‘I’ll get you settled,’ she shouted above the noise of the guns, ‘and then go and find Anne.’
Mrs Finch’s grip was surprisingly strong as she grabbed her wrist. ‘You mustn’t go out in this,’ she shouted back. ‘Anne said she was going to the seafront, so she’ll be quite safe in the shelter under the Grand Hotel.’
‘I can’t be sure of that,’ said Peggy as she bundled the elderly woman into the Anderson shelter and helped her into her deckchair, then frantically stuffed cushions around her to keep her from slipping out. ‘She’s been gone for nearly an hour. If she’s caught in this she won’t be able to run very fast. I have to find her.’
Mrs Finch looked up at her, her pale eyes bright with tears. ‘Please don’t go, Peggy. It’s too dangerous.’
‘I have to.’ Peggy lit the kerosene lamp and tucked a blanket round the little woman. ‘Stay here,’ she ordered, handing her a packet of biscuits from the box, ‘and if you get at all frightened, turn off that hearing aid so you can go to sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I can. I promise.’
Mrs Finch grabbed her sleeve. ‘God go with you, Peggy,’ she said, the tears streaming down her lined face.
Peggy swiftly kissed her cheek then hurried out of the shelter. Once she’d made sure the door was fastened properly, she raced out of the back gate and down the alleyway to the main road that led straight to the seafront. She could hear a warden shouting in the distance and knew that if she was caught without her gas-mask box she’d be heavily fined – but that wasn’t important. Her daughter was out there, and Peggy just knew she was in trouble.
The sirens were all going now, right through the to
wn, the searchlights weaving back and forth as the first phalanx of enemy planes advanced over the Channel and the RAF raced to intercept them. The guns on the cliffs were booming, the tracer bullets zipping through the black skies as the bright yellow pom-poms burst to light up the enemy planes and give those guns a good target.
The continuous bursting of shells lit her way as she ran down the hill towards the seafront. She stumbled as her bedroom slippers caught in the rough pavement, and she kicked them off. Running in her bare feet, she called out to Anne in the hope she could hear above the awful racket of the numerous dogfights overhead.
The seafront was deserted but for the soldiers manning the guns, and there was no answer to her desperate calls. She continued running along the pavement, past the boarded-up private hotels, until she reached the Grand. It was in total darkness and, as she tried the front door, she found it was locked.
She stood there panting and in terror. Perhaps Anne was in the shelter beneath the Grand – in which case she should go back home. But something told Peggy that wasn’t the case. She might have changed her mind and not even come this way. But where could she have gone? The main communal shelter was on the far side of town. Surely she wouldn’t have walked that far?
Peggy dithered, and then the thought came that Anne might have gone to see her father at the cinema. She often called in to share a cuppa with him in the projection room. In a fever of anxiety, she ran along the seafront, hardly noticing the heavy booms of the nearby guns, or the roar of the planes overhead. Nor did she realise that her feet were cut and bleeding, or that she had a sharp pain in her side as she began to run up the steep hill towards the Odeon. All she could feel was a growing dread that her daughter needed her. ‘Anne!’ she screamed. ‘Anne, where are you?’
A low-flying enemy plane roared above her, bullets spewing from its underbelly to crack and thud all around her. Peggy threw herself into a nearby doorway and curled into a ball, her head buried in her arms as the bullets ricocheted off brick and thudded into the road.