by Nancy Revell
God! Get with it man! Dr Parker scolded himself. What did it matter now?
After seeing how Helen had been with Tommy, it was clear there was no room in her heart for anyone else – even if the heart of the man she still loved belonged to someone else.
Seeing their stop approaching, Dr Parker and Helen both sat up straight, unlinked their arms and got ready to get out of their seats and leave the quiet hub of the bus.
‘Do you know what number Polly lives at?’ Dr Parker asked.
‘I don’t, but I know it’s opposite a sweet shop halfway down Tatham Street, just a few doors down from the Tatham Arms, where Bel’s mam works,’ Helen said, looking out the window and seeing only darkness where she knew Mowbray Park to be.
She looked back and focused her attention on Dr Parker. ‘Thank you, John.’
‘For what?’ he said.
‘For everything. For always being there for me. For coming with me tonight.’
Dr Parker was just about to tell Helen that it was nothing when they suddenly heard the all too familiar wail of the air raid sirens starting up.
‘Oh, I don’t believe it!’ Helen said. ‘Not tonight of all nights!’
Hearing the warning and seeing the first flash of search-lights criss-cross the skies, the bus driver pulled over.
‘Most of these houses – ’ he pointed to the three-storey Victorian terraced homes that faced the park ‘– have cellars. Otherwise there’s the Palatine a bit further down. They’ve always got plenty of room in their basement – and from what I’ve heard it’s been well kitted out.’
Everyone hurried off the bus.
‘The Palatine?’ Helen said.
Dr Parker let out a loud laugh.
‘I might have guessed! Come on then!’ He raised his voice to be heard above the sirens, now blaring out at full volume.
They both walked quickly down the road.
‘It’s probably just a false alarm,’ Helen shouted, but as soon as her words were out, there was another familiar sound – the drone of a German bomber.
And it was getting louder.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The Luftwaffe pilot of the Heinkel He 111 bomber cursed as he flew through yet more clouds. Just over an hour ago the skies had been clear and the moon bright. Now it was cloudy and drizzly, making visibility poor.
‘Verdammt!’ Leutnant Karl Mayer cursed again as his vision was obliterated by thick patches of mist and fog. His sentiments were echoed by his bombardier, Unteroffizier Hans Fischer, sitting cramped up next to him in the aircraft’s trademark glass nose.
‘Gott sei Dank!’ Leutnant Mayer shouted out his relief as the skies suddenly cleared and he was gifted an unobstructed view of what he knew to be the ‘Biggest Shipbuilding Town in the World’.
Seeing the snake-like curves of the River Wear, Leutnant Mayer glanced across at Unteroffizier Fischer just as he flicked the switch to open the bomb bay doors. The Heinkel immediately lifted, having become lighter after successfully unleashing its consignment – three 500-kilogram bombs. Seconds later they heard the boom of the first explosion, then the second, but not a third. One of the bombs must have failed to detonate.
Leutnant Mayer thought of his own family in Dresden and prayed that the high explosives had hit their intended targets – and not any of the long lines of homes that seemed to cling to the hems of the town’s revered shipyards. When he had originally looked at the aerial map of the town, he had whistled aloud. His Kommandeur had nodded, having read his thoughts.
‘Ich weiss,’ he’d said. ‘Sie lieben ihren Werften so sehr, dass sie praktish in ihnen wohnen.’ (‘They love their shipyards so much they practically live in them!’) They had laughed, but their joviality masked a deep concern. They were both family men. They hated the thought of innocent women and children being killed in their own homes. This was not what they had signed up for.
As Leutnant Mayer directed the Heinkel towards the North Sea he felt a surge of happiness. In a few hours he would be back in Germany. He was due leave – a forty-eight-hour pass at the very least. He couldn’t wait to see his wife, Ingrid, and their two young children, Gerald and Elke.
Just as they were flying over the mouth of the harbour, though, he and his co-pilot were momentarily blinded by the glare of a searchlight, then deafened by the furious rat-ta-tat sound of the AA guns as they opened fire. Their gunner and radio operator returned fire, but it was too late.
Seconds later Leutnant Mayer felt the plane jolt and knew they’d been hit. He looked down at the dashboard, which had lit up like a Christmas tree.
In the corner of his eye he saw the orange flicker of flames. He looked ahead again. Both propellers had frozen. His crew were deathly silent as the engine laboured and the Heinkel took a nosedive towards the dark runway of the North Sea. He knew the water would be like concrete when they hit it.
Leutnant Mayer’s last thoughts were of his wife and children. He knew he would never see them again – not in this world anyway.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
‘Yer didn’t fancy being cosied up in the shelter with your bloke then?’ Angie shouted into Dorothy’s ear as they made their way out of the pub.
‘God, no!’ Dorothy looked at Angie with horror. ‘I’d have died of boredom!’
‘Yeh, same here. Dull as dishwater mine was.’
The air raid sirens had sounded out a few minutes earlier and the two women had said their goodbyes to their dates in the lounge bar of the Burton House hotel.
‘Shame Gloria’s not in,’ Dorothy shouted out.
The two women looked across the road.
‘I know – her shelter sounds all right, as far as shelters gan. She said Mr Brown always keeps it stocked up with biscuits ’n wotnots.’
The two women dithered for a little while, as people hurried past them.
‘Let’s go to Tavistock House. Where Polly and Bel always go.’
‘The geet big house round the corner?’ Angie said. Dorothy nodded, took her friend’s arm, and the two started walking.
Turning the corner into Back Tatham Street, Angie suddenly pulled Dorothy to a halt.
‘I’ve got something in my shoe!’ Angie shouted out as she bent over. ‘It’s digging right in.’ Hopping on one foot, she took her shoe off and shook it. A small stone dropped onto the pavement.
‘Ange, we’re in the middle of a bloody air raid!’ Dorothy shouted in her friend’s ear.
‘I can’t help it if I’ve gorra geet big boulder in me shoe!’ Angie hollered back.
Dorothy had just opened her mouth to speak again when the sirens were blotted out by the deafening drone of an aircraft engine. Seconds later there were two almighty explosions – one immediately after the other. The two friends screamed and grabbed each other. Their terrified cries were obliterated by the sound of shattering glass, and the crashing torrent of smashed brickwork. They clung to each other as the air around them was instantly saturated with asphyxiating black smoke.
They stayed clutching one another until a deathly quietness descended.
It was only when the air cleared enough for them to see the vague outlines of people and buildings that they knew for certain they were still of this world.
Angie and Dorothy finally let go of each other when the ghostly calm was broken by the shouts of the ARP wardens, and the ringing of bells signalling the approach of the fire engines.
‘It’s still there!’ Dorothy shouted out, pointing at the house where they believed their friends to be sheltering.
‘Eee, thank God for that!’ Angie mumbled. She felt as though she’d had the stuffing knocked out of her.
Dorothy turned to look at Angie and saw that they were now wearing what looked like identical grey dresses.
They also had the same grey hair – and their faces had been plastered with a similar ghoulish grey make-up.
Angie spat some dirt out of her mouth and stared at the bombed building that she knew to be Moore’s warehouse.
‘Bloody hell, Ange, I think we had our guardian angel looking after us there!’
Angie nodded, still not able to find the energy to speak. Catching the flash of blue lights in their peripheral vision, they turned to catch sight of an ambulance heading towards Tatham Street.
They looked at each other.
‘Gloria and Hope!’ their grey faces mouthed at each other.
Turning their backs on the bomb site that was Tavistock Place, they started to run as fast as their shaking legs would allow.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
When Gloria heard the air raid sirens start up, she panicked.
‘Bloody typical,’ she cursed under her breath. ‘The one night I go out ’n there’s a bloomin’ air raid.’ If she’d been in her own home, she’d simply have grabbed Hope and gone straight to the shelter in the back garden.
Picking Hope off the lounge floor, where she was having an imaginary tea party with an old teddy bear Mrs Crabtree had given to her, Gloria hurried into the kitchen, where she found the old woman making a fresh pot of tea.
‘You’ve not got a shelter out back, have you?’ Gloria asked, knowing it was unlikely as most of the terraces along the street had concrete yards as opposed to gardens.
Mrs Crabtree shook her head, putting the kettle back onto the range, then bending down to scoop up her ginger tabby, which had spent the entire evening either nestled up in her lap or weaving in and out of her bandy legs.
‘Teddy!’ Hope wailed. Gloria jigged her daughter on her hip, trying to placate her.
‘Teddeee!’ Hope’s wails were starting to match those of the siren. Realising her daughter would not rest until she was once again in possession of her new toy, she went back into the lounge and grabbed the one-eyed brown teddy bear.
Coming back into the kitchen, Gloria found the old woman standing in the middle of her small kitchen, stroking her beloved pet, trying to keep it calm.
‘Come on, I’ll get our coats and gas masks. We’ll go to the public shelter,’ Gloria shouted; not only were the sirens loud, but Mrs Crabtree was also almost deaf.
The old woman shook her head.
‘Too far!’ she shouted back.
As soon as she spoke, the ginger tabby leapt from her arms and darted into the lounge.
‘The cupboard under the stairs!’ Mrs Crabtree pointed a gnarly finger towards the hallway, before shuffling past and heading into the lounge to fetch the cat.
Gloria stood for a moment, unsure whether to risk the hike to the shelter, which she knew would probably take them a good five minutes to get to, probably longer with an old woman and a fourteen-month-old toddler in tow.
For God’s sake, make yer bloody mind up! Gloria chastised herself; she didn’t feel able to think with the noise of the sirens.
Just get in the cupboard!
Coming out of the kitchen and into the tiled hallway, Gloria pulled open the small wooden door under the staircase. She carefully stepped down onto the dropped floor, shielding Hope’s head so that she didn’t hit it on the door frame.
Once her eyes adjusted to the darkness she felt a modicum of relief; it was bigger than she had anticipated. Turning round, her foot knocked something and she looked down to see a candle and a box of matches.
Putting Hope down, she lit the candle and looked around. There was easily enough room for the three of them.
Spotting a blanket and cushion neatly stacked in the corner, Gloria realised that Mrs Crabtree never bothered with the public shelter. This here was her own Make Do and Mend air raid shelter. As Gloria moved the flickering candle slowly around, she noticed a little mound of rags – the old woman had even made a makeshift bed for the cat.
‘All right, sweetie.’ Gloria tried to make her voice light as she bobbed down on her haunches. Hope was clutching the teddy bear to her chest.
‘We’re going to play a game.’ Gloria looked into Hope’s eyes and saw both uncertainty and the beginnings of fear.
‘We’re going to stay here for a little while. Like hide and seek.’ Gloria looked at Hope but she still looked unsure and a little scared.
Gloria stepped towards the small door that she’d left ajar.
‘Mrs Crabtree,’ she shouted out, ‘are you coming?’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘I’ll be there in a moment, pet!’
Gloria could hear that Mrs Crabtree was still in the lounge and by the sounds she was making was clearly trying to coax the ginger tabby out from some hard-to-get-to hiding place.
‘Just leave the cat!’ Gloria shouted back. ‘It’ll be fine!’ There were more ‘Puss, puss … ’ sounds coming from the living room.
‘They’ve got nine lives,’ Gloria shouted out, louder this time.
There was more silence.
‘I’ve got her!’ Mrs Crabtree’s triumphant voice finally sounded out.
Her words, though, were immediately followed by a deafening blast that shook the very foundations of the house.
Gloria instinctively dropped down on her knees to cover her daughter’s body with her own, just as a shower of bricks rained down on her back.
Chapter Sixty
‘Come on!’ Dr Parker shouted above the deafening sound of the sirens and the bomber’s engine. Grabbing Helen’s hand, he dragged her towards the hotel. It was only a few hundred yards away, but the bomber’s shadowy presence was already passing over them, thudding its way over the town, hauling its metal wares of destruction across the cold October sky.
‘Bloody hell!’ He looked around him, frantically searching for some semblance of shelter.
And then he heard it: the whistling of the bomb as it cut through the air, piercing through the sound of the sirens.
Automatically pulling Helen to the side, he wrapped her in his arms, covering her head with his hands. The earth around them shuddered in shock as 500 kilograms’ worth of explosives hit the ground, filling the air instantly with a thick veil of dust.
Seconds later he felt Helen’s body instinctively jerk when the earth underneath them juddered yet again as another explosion racked the town.
The deafening booms and the two huge clouds of grey told them that both bombs had landed near – very near.
Squinting through the ash- and dirt-filled air, he saw the bright lines of the tracers shooting upwards into the sky, and the snatch of a swastika painted on the side of the bomber, caught for a split second in the poking finger of a searchlight. There was an immediate burst of ack-ack fire. The lone bomber disappeared into the dark folds of the night sky, but a sudden flare of flames illuminated its flank once more. Dr Parker saw the tail of the aircraft upend, and he followed its descent as it spiralled towards death and a watery grave.
Helen lifted her head and looked around her. She blinked hard, trying to adjust her vision to the flurries of dust and ash that seemed to be floating around her like grey snowflakes.
‘Please, Helen, go to the shelter!’ Dr Parker demanded again.
‘They’ve hit the east end!’ she said, panicked, ignoring his plea.
‘Helen …’ Dr Parker shouted to be heard, placing both his hands firmly on her shoulders. ‘I need you to get to the hotel’s shelter!’
‘Where are you going?’ Helen’s eyes were darting around her. Their world had switched in an instant from order to complete bedlam.
‘To see if they need help with any casualties.’ Dr Parker leant towards Helen so as to be heard without shouting.
‘I’m coming too!’ Helen said.
‘No, you’re not.’ Dr Parker flashed her a look that said this was not up for debate. He grabbed her arm. He was sure the hotel entrance was around the corner. ‘Just until the all-clear,’ he said, looking up at the skies, fearful of seeing yet more harbingers of death.
Helen pulled back.
‘Come on!’ He tugged her in the direction of the hotel, but she wasn’t
having any of it.
‘There’s an ambulance!’ she cried out as a flashing blue light became visible.
Dr Parker looked at Helen and knew this was a fight he was not going to win.
He let go of her, stepped off the kerb and waved his arms frantically at the ambulance.
Seeing him at the last minute through the darkness of the blackout, the driver screeched to a halt.
‘I’m a doctor! I work up at the Ryhope,’ Dr Parker shouted through the window.
The driver leant across and pushed open the door.
Dr Parker clambered in, followed by Helen.
The two men looked at her, but before they had time to object, she shouted, ‘Get going!’
The ferocity of her voice made the driver jump and he slammed the ambulance into first gear.
‘Where did they land?’ Helen demanded.
‘Hendon,’ the driver said, as they turned right down Borough Road.
‘Where in Hendon?!’ Helen barked her question.
Dr Parker looked at Helen and saw the growing panic etched across her face.
‘One hit Laura Street at the junction with Murton Street, but didn’t explode … The second Tavistock Place … And the third …’ The driver pulled the wheel round as he turned right.
‘Here …’ he shouted, his eyes focused on the road. ‘Tatham Street.’
‘Oh my God!’ Helen’s face went pale. ‘Gloria! Hope!’
Dr Parker took her hand.
‘We’ll find them.’ He tried to sound reassuring, but looking ahead, his heart sank.
It was like driving through the gates of Hell. There were men, women and children wandering about, their faces blackened and their hair grey with dust. They saw people running in or out of homes along the long stretch of terraced houses. The air raid warning had come too late; it was clear people hadn’t been able to make it to any of the nearby shelters.