Victory for the Ops Room Girls

by Vicki Beeby

  Then Milan’s voice cut through the confusion. ‘I will drive you. I borrowed my CO’s car this evening.’

  Jess nodded. She wasn’t about to question how Milan had wangled the use of a car for a non-essential journey.

  ‘We’ll come too,’ May said.

  By this time they were striding down the street. Jess had no idea what direction they were headed in, she just clung to Milan’s arm and allowed him to guide her. She had to run to keep pace with his long, swift strides.

  ‘There is no room. The car is only a two-seater.’

  The words flew over Jess’s head, and she felt unable to grasp what they were saying. The question she wanted to ask hammered in her head: V2 or flying bomb? She couldn’t ask, though, knew Evie and May couldn’t tell what they had learned while on duty. Gradually her thoughts cleared. Surely if it had been a flying bomb, the sirens would have sounded, whereas V2s were too fast for the air raid warnings to be any use.

  A V2, then. She felt sick. If a V2 had struck Jack and Vera’s house, there would have been no escape.

  She struggled against a wild desire to scream. It was only her years of WAAF training that enabled her to force the fear to the back of her mind. Until she had proof, she refused to believe her aunt, uncle and Hannah had been harmed. Hannah. The thought of her daughter’s bright, beautiful face made her stagger as though she had been struck.

  Milan steadied her. ‘Why not wait at the Mess?’ he said. ‘I will take Evie or May and send word.’

  ‘No.’ Jess drew a gulping breath to steady herself. ‘I’d go mad, waiting. I ’ave to come with you. I ’ave to know.’

  Evie put a hand on her arm. ‘We’ll wait up. Send word if you need us.’

  Jess clutched Evie’s hand in silent thanks then allowed Milan to sweep her off to his car.

  * * *

  There was no need for torches. Flickering orange light lit their way from several streets away. While Jess knew there was no way Evie and May could know the exact place the V2 had struck, they must have known it was close to Vera’s house, or they wouldn’t have dashed to find Jess in such a panic. Jess could only suppose they’d heard a report from an observation post.

  An ARP Warden stopped the car before they could turn into Farthing Lane. ‘You can’t go any further. Road’s closed. Bloody bomb’s blasted a massive ’ole right in the middle of the street.’

  ‘Was anyone…’ Jess hesitated, unable to bring herself to say ‘killed’ in the superstitious fear that saying it would make it true. ‘Anyone ’urt?’ she said finally.

  ‘Three ’ouses flattened. We ain’t found no bodies, but…’ the warden concluded with an expressive gesture that conveyed the futility of any search. ‘Anyway, we can’t get near ’em yet. It’s like the infernos of ’ell up there.’

  ‘Which ’ouses? What numbers?’

  ‘No idea. Sorry, love.’

  Milan parked the car. The instant she heard the click of the handbrake, Jess fumbled to find the door handle and scrambled out. She clutched Milan’s arm. ‘We ’ave to look for them. They’re still alive, I know it.’ Surely she would have felt if anything had happened to Hannah?

  Ignoring the warden’s protest, she marched up the street, having no problem matching Milan’s strides now. The moment they rounded the corner, Jess stopped dead as a wall of heat struck her face. She coughed, her eyes smarting. Blinking, she strained to see through the smoke to see the damage. The centre of the inferno was four houses down the terrace from Jack and Vera’s house. She could instantly see that there was no hope for anyone who had been in that house or the ones to either side. The scene was so changed that it took a while to work out which house was Jack and Vera’s. When she saw it her heart went cold. It wasn’t ablaze – not yet, at any rate, although the flames were licking closer. It hadn’t suffered a direct hit, but the blast had reduced the top floor to rubble. She heard someone moan, a sound like an animal in pain. She broke into a run, wanting to fling herself onto the rubble and dig for Hannah and Vera but strong arms caught her and held her back. It was only then that she realised the moan she’d heard had come from her.

  ‘Wait. You will only make things worse.’ Milan spoke in her ear. He stopped and coughed but didn’t loosen his grip.

  ‘Hannah. Hannah’s in there. I ’ave to get ’er out.’

  ‘Wait.’ Milan coughed again. Jess, too, needed to clear her throat against the choking dust and smoke that filled the air. When he spoke again, his voice was stronger. ‘We could bring the whole lot down unless we act with care.’

  Jess wanted to scream with impatience. Milan’s advice made sense, however. They moved as close as they could to Vera and Jack’s house before one of the firemen stopped her. ‘Stand back, love. The whole place could come down at any moment.’

  She took a step back and searched desperately, eyes streaming, for any sign of life inside. After a while she noticed a commotion a few feet away. A man struggled against two burly firemen who seemed to be preventing the man from hurling himself into the crumbling house. The man twisted in his attempt to break free and in doing so, turned his face briefly towards Jess, revealing the thin face, aquiline nose and bushy eyebrows of her uncle.

  The sight brought back movement to her limbs. ‘Uncle Jack,’ she cried, racing towards him. She grasped his arm, forcing him to cease his struggles. ‘Uncle Jack, you’re safe.’

  Jack turned wild eyes upon her. ‘Gone. Everything’s gone.’

  ‘Vera and Hannah – where are they?’ Jess had to restrain herself from shaking her uncle.

  Jack shook his head. He pulled his hat from his head and turned it over and over in his hands. ‘I was at the Dog and Duck, ’avin’ a pint with Alf and Vic. Vic’s youngest just ’ad a baby boy so we were celebrating, like.’

  It was only the knowledge that Jack was in shock that enabled Jess to resist the urge to grab him by the collar. Milan had caught up with her by this time, and, after exchanging glances with Jess, he wrapped an arm around Jack’s shoulders and steered him away from the fire.

  All the resistance seemed to drain from Jack; he allowed himself to be guided to a spot well away from the blaze, where he sank down upon the kerb. ‘It’s a little boy,’ he said to no one in particular. ‘They’re calling ’im Billy after ’is dad.’

  ‘I’ll look after ’im, love. A good tot of brandy’ll see ’im right.’

  Jess looked up to see a wiry middle-aged woman bending over them, holding an enamel mug and a small bottle of brandy – the type housewives over the land kept for ‘medicinal purposes’. She wore a dressing gown, and her hair was done up in curlers and wrapped in a scarf. Even in her nightwear, nothing could take away the air of authority that clung to her. Jess had lived in fear of her as a child, always taking care not to get into her bad books and earn the sharp side of her tongue. Now, however, Jess was relieved to see her.

  ‘Mrs Prosser, ’ave you seen Vera and… and…?’ she couldn’t bring herself to say Hannah’s name.

  ‘Why, it’s young Jess ’alloway. I didn’t recognise you there. Bad business,’ Mrs Prosser said, with a nod towards the blaze. ‘Came out of nowhere, it did. No warning, no nothing.’

  But Jess was in no mood to make conversation. ‘Mrs Prosser, I need to find Auntie Vera and Hannah. They weren’t—?’ She swallowed.

  ‘They’re inside.’ It was Uncle Jack who spoke. ‘I ’ave to find them.’

  It felt as though the breath was being squeezed from Jess’s lungs. She had clung to the hope that Vera and Hannah had also been out of the house. A grey mist swirled in front of her eyes; the noise of shouting and the roaring fire receded.

  Then a voice cut through. Milan’s voice. ‘I will look for them.’

  Jess drew a gulping breath, forcing herself to concentrate. ‘Not alone,’ she said.

  She had to forget that every extra second they wasted could be the last second of air for Hannah and Vera. Resisting the urge to run up to the terrace and scrabble among the fallen bricks,
she examined the house carefully, looking for signs of life. It soon became clear that shifting rubble from the front might cause more of the house to collapse. The side wall closest to the blast had fallen away, and most of the front had gone too, making the house look like a dolls house that had been opened up. The hall and stairwell were clearly visible; the roof had fallen in, covering the front bedroom and the front room downstairs. She couldn’t see clearly how badly the back of the house was damaged, although it was obvious they would have to move a lot of rubble to get through.

  Milan must have reached the same conclusion. ‘Can we get round the back?’ he asked.

  The question galvanised her into action. ‘Yes, there’s an alley. This way.’

  She grabbed his arm and led him to one of the side passages that cut through the terrace at intervals. They squeezed through the narrow gap to a path running parallel to the rear of the terrace. From here they were able to reach the gate leading to Jack and Vera’s back yard. Jess pushed it open and staggered through. To her relief she saw the rear of the building was fairly intact. Great cracks scored the brickwork and lumps of masonry were missing near the roof. Through the roar of the flames farther down the street, she could hear ominous creaks and groans shuddering through the house.

  She ran to the back door and pushed. It wouldn’t budge. A glance showed why: the door frame had buckled, jamming the door. She shoved harder. ‘Help me get it open.’

  Milan added his weight and they managed to force it inwards a couple of inches before it stuck fast. ‘There must be something blocking it on the other side,’ Milan said. ‘I’ll try the windows.’

  During the Blitz, Uncle Jack had boarded up the windows at the back of the house after they had been shattered during a raid. They had been fixed from the outside so there was no pushing them inwards, and they didn’t have the tools to lever out the nails. Milan grabbed a brick from the rubble on the ground and bashed it in the middle of the boards, making a large dent. Seeing what he was trying to do, Jess snatched up another brick and joined in. If they could make a hole in the flimsy hardboard, they could use it as a handhold to lever the boarding off the window frames.

  The exertion, together with the heat from the fire, made her shirt stick to her back as she struck the board over and over again. A glance at Milan showed his hair cling to his forehead with perspiration. She stopped to gather her breath and watched him strike one more time. The wood splintered, leaving a jagged hole.

  Jess immediately lunged at the window and stood on tiptoe to look through. A wave of plaster dust hit her in the face, setting her coughing again. ‘Hannah!’ she shouted. ‘Vera!’

  The ceiling had caved in, covering everything in plaster. Hannah’s bed dangled from the hole, wedged against a beam. Judging from the way the beams creaked, the house was facing imminent collapse. ‘Hannah!’ she shouted again.

  Had that been an answering cry? Jess froze, listening. It was no good, though. There was far too much noise from the firefighters and the roaring flames, the collapsing rubble. Grasping the jagged edges of boarding around the hole she gave it a violent tug. The board jerked free from two of the nails.

  ‘Here. Let me do it.’ Milan stood beside her. ‘You will cut your hands doing it like that.’ He stripped off his tunic and wrapped it around his right hand before reaching into the hole and yanking the board, his face screwed up with the effort. It tore free from the window frame with a grinding, splintering noise.

  The moment the window was clear, Jess moved to throw herself across the sill. Milan, however, held her back. ‘No. One of us must stay outside in case we need help.’

  ‘I’ll go in. I’m smaller. I can fit through narrow gaps.’

  ‘I will go. I am stronger. I might need to lift them clear.’

  As panicked as Jess was, she could see the sense in Milan’s words. She moved aside to let him enter, shining her torch inside to give him enough light to see by. There was no need to worry about blackout regulations: the fire gave enough light to pinpoint the street for any bombers. With her heart beating painfully, she watched him haul himself over the ledge and drop inside. The exposed beams in the ceiling gave another creak.

  ‘Hurry. It’s going to come down any minute.’ A sudden roar made her shoot a glance over her shoulder. ‘Oh, God, next door’s roof’s on fire.’ For a few seconds she stared, mesmerised, at the fountain of flame in the night sky. A moment later, she leaned across the sill, heedless of the splinters digging into her arms. ‘Hannah!’ she screamed.

  She broke off, coughing, her throat raw and looked at Milan who was searching under the collapsed ceiling with agonising thoroughness. ‘Anything?’

  Milan shook his head, shining his own torch into the corners.

  Then she heard a cry. Looking up she saw a small face peering down from above through the gaping hole. She shone her torch light up, revealing Hannah, clinging to one of the bed’s legs.

  ‘Hannah!’ Jess felt limp with relief, although Hannah wasn’t safe yet.

  Hannah looked at Jess and edged closer to the hole. ‘Jess.’ Tears streaked Hannah’s grimy face.

  ‘Don’t move. We’ll get you down.’

  Milan picked his way across the rubble to stand beneath Hannah. He reached up. His hands didn’t quite reach as high as Hannah. ‘Hold onto the bed and lower yourself down,’ he told her. ‘I will catch you.’

  Hannah nodded and eased herself towards the hole and Milan’s waiting arms.

  ‘What about Auntie Vera?’ Jess called. ‘Is she up there too?’

  Hannah shook her head, her face crumpling. ‘She went downstairs just before… before…’ She broke off with a sob.

  ‘Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll find her. Let’s get you to safety first.’ Jess could see Hannah was trembling so hard she was scared the girl would freeze before she could lower herself through the hole. She held her breath. She had never felt so helpless, knowing her daughter and aunt were in danger and there was nothing she could do to help them.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Inch by inch, Hannah wriggled closer to the edge of the hole, her right arm wrapped around the leg of the bed. Now her left foot dangled over the void. She wore pyjamas made from brushed cotton with a pattern of seashells. Hannah was growing out of them – the legs only reached to mid-calf and rode up to Hannah’s knees as she wormed her way over the edge. Her bare feet were smeared with grey dust and streaks of blood from several scratches. Funny how you noticed little things like that.

  Hannah’s sobs turned to a keening wail as her left foot flailed in the air.

  ‘That’s it, Hannah. Nearly there. You’re doing so well.’ Jess strove to keep the panic from her voice, tried to ignore the growing heat on the side of her face that told her the fire blazed only yards away.

  Milan, stretching to his full height managed to grasp both Hannah’s legs below the knee. ‘There you go. I have got you. Let go of the bed now. I will not let you fall.’

  The last words had hardly left his mouth when the upper floor gave a lurch. Hannah squealed and gripped the bed even harder. Roof tiles fell from above, through the bedroom to smash with a clatter on the ground. Even when one struck Milan’s elbow, he didn’t release his grip from Hannah’s legs. Some fell outside. Jess heard the brittle slates shatter upon the paving slabs. She thrust her head through the window to avoid getting hit.

  Jess’s throat closed in terror. She tried to call out to Hannah, to reassure her. No words would come. All she could do was grip the window sill, feeling cold brick scrape beneath her fingernails, as she watched the two most precious people in her life face peril.

  Then Milan spoke. His voice was so calm, Jess felt her heart rate ease. ‘I am still here, Hannah. Take your time.’

  It was probably a good thing Jess couldn’t get any words out, for she knew she wouldn’t be able to utter anything so calming. She would probably have screamed something that would have thrown Hannah into an even greater panic. Milan, on the other hand, continued
to speak words of encouragement as though he were doing nothing more risky than soothing a frightened animal. Finally, Hannah drew a shuddering breath and released her hold on the bed. She slid through the hole to be caught securely in Milan’s arms. An instant later, he handed her through the window, and Jess hugged her daughter close, tears dripping into Hannah’s matted hair.

  Milan’s voice broke through her sobs. ‘Take her to the first aiders on the street. I will get your aunt.’

  By the time Jess had managed to prise Hannah out of her arms so the first aiders could take a look at her, she was torn. Half of her couldn’t bear to leave Hannah for a moment, wanted to cling to her, reassure herself she was safe. Then one of the firefighters clutched her arm. ‘Did you say there was still someone in the house?’

  She nodded. ‘My aunt. My friend is looking for her.’

  ‘Get them out now. We can’t hold the fire back much longer.’

  After giving Hannah one last hug and seeing her safely reunited with Uncle Jack, she rushed back to the yard. ‘Milan,’ she shouted the moment she was through the gate. ‘Where are you?’

  She reached the window just as a rumble and a crash sounded within. ‘Milan!’ She peered inside, shining her torch through the window but could see nothing through a billowing cloud of dust. It caught at her throat, making her choke, and stung her eyes. The fire scorched the side of her face but a gnawing chill froze her insides. What if Milan and Vera were trapped within, listening to the house fall around them and the fire approaching but unable to move? ‘Milan!’ She tried to shout his name. It came out as a croak.

  Then came the rending sound of shifting wood. An odd, hunched figure emerged through the dust. Jess blinked, trying to force the image into focus through a mist of shimmering tears. Then the sight resolved itself into Milan, supporting Vera, shuffling towards the window. Sobbing, she reached forward to help Vera. She hardly knew how they managed to drag her through. Then she was hugging her aunt hard.