The Blitz Business

by D. A. Spruzen

  Poor Laddie, Bernhardt hurt him. Hope he’s better now. That was very mean of Bernhardt. He seems to be as bad as that man Hitler, who had probably squashed loads and loads of ants. And hurt dogs too.

  Hungry, never got his breakfast. Thirsty. Will Bernhardt be able to hear me if I shout? Probably far away now.

  “Help, help me! I’m Jamie! Come and find me!”

  Nothing but rustles and scuffles. No Bernhardt, though.

  It was cold in the middle of all the trees. Windy and no sunshine. It smelled moldy, like Roy’s room after the upstairs bath leaked down on it. Jamie hoped it wouldn’t rain because he’d be cold if he got wet. Catch his death. Gran used to say that, catch a cold, she said it meant. Catch death? Funny thing to say.

  “Help! Help! Is anyone there?” His voice flew over the trees and away and left a big empty silence.

  A crashing noise, a big animal staring at him, shaky and quiet. Did it hear me call? Could it hear my heart? His heart kept making big thumps. Must keep still, must keep quiet, breathe, and be brave. It had kind eyes and a pretty face. Four stick legs and a little white tail. It was a deer; he remembered it now from a book about the New Forest Lady Audrey had in the library. Pretty enough to be a girl, must be a girl. He had to sneeze, couldn’t help it.

  He scared her with his sneeze and she ran away. She had been good company, and he wanted her back. She had looked sweet and just stood still, watching like an angel.

  “Do forests have angels?” he asked out loud. “Is my angel here? Are you watching?” Gran said he had a guardian angel, all white with wings and she sat in a corner looking after him all the time. Where was she now? Was it even the truth? Gran sometimes told him funny things to keep him quiet when she was tired or busy.

  Another animal, a small one, hopping on the grassy place. A rabbit. Bigger than the rabbits Cook had. He couldn’t bear to think about what she did to them. Put that thought away. This rabbit had a pretty face, like the big animal. How could someone eat a creature with a pretty face? He would never eat a pretty thing. One of his new words. Creature. Must remember that and use it more often.

  The trees were too close for horses to get through. And there wasn’t enough grass for a really big animal to eat. So they wouldn’t come anywhere near where he sat.

  “Help me, help me, help me!” Try again and again, keep trying. Nothing. His throat started to hurt. If he closed his eyes he might sleep. Sleep would make the time go by. He’d think about Gran.

  She’s coming home from work. In this pretend Roy hasn’t been home all day. Gran’s walking tired, like she does. Cleaning’s hard work. She’s got bad legs. She makes herself cheerful for him. Makes a cuppa and puts her feet up before she gets the tea, bacon, and eggs. They only have bacon and eggs for breakfast at the Manor. They have big teas, only they call it dinner. They have lunch when they had dinner at Gran’s. All upside down. And their teas are just in between. Tea and little sandwiches and cake. He liked it, though. He liked everything at the Manor. But he’d liked Gran’s way too.

  She’s telling him about her ladies, now. She’s not very nice about them. She pretends to talk like them and that makes him laugh. She said once that Mrs. Thomas needs one person to cook for her, one to clean the house, one to wash her knickers, and another one to wipe her bottom. She explained it was only a joke, not really true. So rude. Gran doesn’t usually make jokes like that. Sometimes when she makes jokes and laughs a lot it means she is really cross and tired. He thought probably other people do that sometimes. People are all different.

  She’s cooking bacon and eggs. Fried bread. He’s hungry. Lovely smell, makes his mouth water, a good thing, it got too dry. She’d left him a sandwich for lunch; cheese and pickle and a glass of orangeade, but he finished it hours ago. He gets hungry a lot. There’s no chocolate to be found nowadays, she tells him. There used to be chocolate. Ought to forget about the poison chocs, but could he? Would it ever taste the same?

  He opened his eyes and looked around, closed his eyes again; he’d breathe and wait, and think about that prayer. Gran? Her lovey-dovey voice, he could hear it. Listen, Jamie, listen and remember. He must listen. Listen and remember, she was saying it for him.

  Our Father which art in Heaven

  Hallowed be thy name.

  Thy Kingdom come …

  What did that mean? Would God help him? Will you Gran? Don’t leave. I can’t hear you anymore. I’ll come along soon. If you want … forever and ever. Amen.

  * * *

  Wake up, Jamie. Stay awake. Come on, boy. Open your eyes. Too dark, but he tried to see. Nothing and no one. Gran had only been in his head. A dream. Nice dream. He panted and panted until he felt dizzy, all upset because no one might find him. He’d be left to die all alone, no one to help, no one to care. Are they even looking for me? Maybe they think I ran away. Sit up, be proud, and control yourself.

  The panting died down and he felt better. Gran used to cuddle him when he was a little boy. She stopped doing that when he turned twelve. Said he’d be a man soon, and soppy stuff like that wasn’t for men. He wished he still had someone to be that close to, especially right now. He’d just have to pretend. Betty would be cuddly. What on earth made me think about her?

  Gran used to cuddle him till he fell asleep. When he was little. Say the prayer again. He thought he could remember all the words now.

  * * *

  Jamie had to go to the toilet, but how? He had to go, right now. No hands, all tied up. Couldn’t stand up. He’d just have to think about something else. Maybe go back to sleep. Think about reading my book. Think what I’ll write in my own book. Everything Gran had taught him about right and wrong. He’d write down that it was for her, so people would always know how good she was. “For Millie Jenkins,” he said out loud. Sounded funny, not the same as Gran. “Gran, are you there? I will write it, promise. For Millie Jenkins, my Gran.”

  * * *

  Got to go. Oh dear, oh … all wet. He hadn’t done that for years and years, but he couldn’t help it. They’d think him dirty and smelly. He hoped they wouldn’t come too soon, that they’d give him time to dry off. He couldn’t help it, he couldn’t. It was warm at first. Then it went cold, made him feel cold. A few drops of rain came down. The rain might wash him off. Couldn’t help crying. No one to see. Too many tears. So tired of tears.

  * * *

  Raining cats and dogs, Gran used to say that. It felt like needles. Smelled grassy fresh. At least he might get clean now. Cold. Can’t sleep. So cold. Hands hurt; hurts all over, even my throat. No good calling out and making it feel worse. No one was coming. If they found him dead, he hoped they’d find him washed clean at least.

  Dark, black dark. The rain only tickly drizzly now. Shivery, scary dark. He didn’t think animals came out in the dark much. Other bad things might. So cold. The ground all wet and nasty.

  Something coming near, only he couldn’t see it yet. Moving, pushing leaves along with its feet. Not a person. A thing. Maybe coming for him. Did animals in the forest eat people like people eat them? Coming closer, he couldn’t see it, no sun, no moon, no light. Only a big black hole. Moved off, didn’t want him, not tasty enough. So, so tired. Slept a bit, woke and slept and woke. So tired. But he felt warmer, much warmer now. Sleep, lovely sleep. He wanted time to pass by fast, just like the fields and animals he’d seen from the train window.

  * * *

  He heard poor Gran crying up in Heaven. People were supposed to be happy there. So sad, so sad. Jamie, listen to me. Listen to me!

  Why is she so unhappy? Wake up, she won’t cry if I wake up. Too tired, can’t.

  * * *

  Light again, better than dark, but can’t wake up all the way, too sleepy. Go back to sleep. Not hungry anymore.

  Wake up, Jamie!

  Leave me alone, Gran, too tired, coming soon. Terrible sore throat.

  Stay awake. Jamie! What about the book, Jamie. The book! Call out, call out! Do it!

  He dreamt Laddie’s
barking woke him up. He closed his eyes again, mustn’t lose Gran. Dreamt Laddie’s tongue licking, licking. Voices, had they come? Laddie lay right on top of him, warming him up with his thick, furry body. Lovely dream. Wonderful dogs, the best animals of all. Soft and sweet like cake and Rosie.

  23

  Jamie dreamed of Laddie barking, barking, people calling through the fog. He heard, “It’s him!” and “We’ve been looking for you” and “Good boy, Laddie, good boy!” Laddie’s soft body warmed him in his dreamy comfort.

  Big arms scooped him up, but he didn’t know whose. God’s maybe. He smelled the car’s old leather seats, felt its rocking as it went along; this seemed real enough. Hard to tell between real and dreams. Going home, the aloneness over now? Gran stopped crying, stopped talking.

  They lifted him out of the car and he heard Rosie’s voice, “Jamie! I was so worried about you.” Soft arms around his neck, big kiss on his cheek. That got his eyes open. Rosie kissed him. Tired as he was, he felt his lips almost stretch to a smile. Then he had to close up again, too tired to do more.

  Warm water covered him. Slippery soap all over that smelled like flowers. He opened his eyes a little, but it was too hard. He didn’t know who was washing him, who dried him and put on his pajamas. He knew he was in his bed now, a soft, sweet-smelling bed with a cloud pillow. Warm. Would Gran visit soon? Jamie floated between heaven and earth, not sure which way to go. He could always see Gran later. She wasn’t going anywhere. Stay down here, no need to leave so soon. Rosie might need him.

  He woke up a bit at the sound of men’s voices.

  “Got to get something into him, Geoffrey. Broth would be best.”

  “Cook made some for him, but we didn’t like to wake him.”

  “Got to. Help me sit him up.”

  Jamie wanted to sleep some more, but did his best to sit on his own. Sir Geoffrey held him close, and that felt nice. His brown, hairy jacket itched Jamie’s cheek in a comfortable sort of way. The other man was that doctor, but he couldn’t remember his name. He put his cold metal thing on his chest.

  “Breathe in, Jamie. Now out.” So hard.

  “Try to do what Dr. Gibson says, Jamie.”

  “I’ll try.” He made a big breath with a great pushing of shoulders.

  “That’s better, good chap. Bit of a cough, but he doesn’t seem to have pneumonia, at least not yet. We’ll have to keep an eye on him. I’ll be back in the morning.”

  He turned his head when Rosie knocked and popped her head in. She’d given him a big kiss when they carried him into the house. He’d been half asleep, but the kiss had woken him up for a while, and he hadn’t forgotten, wouldn’t ever. She wanted to know how he felt. Had to eat broth, they both said. Didn’t feel like it.

  Rosie disappeared again and Sir Geoffrey let him lie back down. His bed felt warm and soft, a good place to be. He coughed a few times. Mustn’t get pneumonia again. Try not to cough, got to push the pneumonia down and away.

  “You must eat, you haven’t had anything to eat or drink for three days.” Sir Geoffrey sounded very far away.

  Swallowing hurt. He choked a few times and knew he was dribbling. He couldn’t help it and he didn’t really care. Rosie came back and wiped his chin. Sir Geoffrey still held him up. He could smell it was him, smoky and his special soap. Back down into the covers. He wanted to sleep for a long, long time now, but not forever, not yet.

  * * *

  Sun moved through the drizzle and made sparkles on the windows. Sunlight was a wonderful thing; wonderful because it showed everything there was to see. Even bad things were best seen and known. He coughed.

  “Good morning, Jamie,” Rosie said.

  He gasped and turned his head too fast. It was very stiff. “How long have you been there?”

  “Since I woke up around eight.”

  “What’s the time now?”

  “Nearly nine. I’ve been watching you.”

  “Did I snore?”

  “No, silly. You looked rather sweet. You look a lot better.”

  “Where’s Laddie? Is he all right?”

  “Next to the bed. He’s fine. He’s been there all night. He must need to go outside pretty badly by now.”

  Jamie sat up and reached down for the velvety ears he loved to fiddle with. “Laddie’s my best friend after you, Rosie. I do feel better. I’m hungry. I think I’ll get dressed. Will Lady Audrey be there?”

  “No, one of her migraines. She upset herself no end while you were missing. I’ll tell Cook you’re coming down. You all right to do the stairs?”

  “I think so.” Jamie swung his legs out of bed and pushed himself up. “Yes, I can manage.” He felt wobbly, but he could do it.

  He started to dress when Betty knocked on the door and didn’t wait before she came in. Jamie had to pull the eiderdown over him.

  “Want some help, Master Jamie?” She reached for him.

  “No, thank you.” He recoiled. How very rude. “I can dress myself. I’d like to do it by myself. Thank you.”

  “You haven’t got anything I haven’t seen before!” She sniffed and shut the door behind her too hard.

  She certainly hadn’t seen anything of his before. It almost seemed as if she wanted to see him undressed. He waited a few minutes before he risked getting the rest of his clothes on and done up, every last button.

  Jamie took his time going down, holding the banister tightly so he wouldn’t stumble. He wanted to see every picture along the stairwell, remember all the faces in case he ever got lost again. He wanted to be able to see everything he liked about the Manor in his mind when he closed his eyes. It was important to practice good memories because they could run away and hide themselves before you knew it. He hurried down the hall when he smelled the bacon.

  “I’ll fill a plate for you, Jamie,” said Rosie.

  “Thanks. Lots of everything, please.” He slid into his chair and picked up the knife and fork so he’d be ready when she put the plate down. He shoveled the first few mouthfuls in, almost swallowing them without chewing.

  “Slowly, Jamie,” said Rosie. “You’ll make yourself sick. Your tummy has been empty for ages.”

  “I’m really, really hungry. Still, I suppose it’s not polite to eat so fast.”

  Sir Geoffrey came in, poured himself a cup of tea, and sat with them. “Well, Jamie, much better today, I see.”

  “Yes, sir. Much better. Very hungry. Oops, sorry, sir, mouth’s full.”

  “All right just for this once. Jamie, I need to ask you some questions about Bernhardt.”

  Jamie’s stomach pinched. He didn’t want to think about that man.

  “He had a big knife. He said Nazis believe that people like me should be—he said a big word, I think it meant killed—like rats. But he said I am a bit useful, because of the gardening. So he left me there. He said if I’m found in time I would live. If not, I would die. It was very scary, especially in the dark.” Jamie watched his fingers twist in his lap. He wasn’t hungry any more.

  “Jamie, Jamie,” said Sir Geoffrey in his gentle voice. “You are a very useful person, and you are good at many things. Bernhardt is just a very bad person who believes very bad things. And when we catch him, we’ll put him in prison for a long time, probably forever. We were all extremely worried about you, and we are so happy you are back with us. You do know that, don’t you?” Sir Geoffrey kept his voice softer than usual.

  Jamie nodded, his stomach getting settled down, his smile coming easier.

  “How did Bernhardt find you and take you?”

  “I was going to water the seedlings. I saw him stealing Lady Audrey’s car. I told him to stop stealing. It wasn’t right. Then he made me sit in it and showed me his knife. Laddie tried to save me, but Bernhardt punched him very badly. Laddie tried to run after the car, but he couldn’t keep up. He limped a lot.” He should have said Bernhardt found him when he choked on biscuit crumbs. But it sounded better this way, more like a hero might do things.


  “That was very brave of you, Jamie. I’m proud of you.”

  “Laddie was brave too. Did Evans understand why I couldn’t do the watering?”

  “Yes, he did. And, yes, Laddie was very brave. He let us know there was something wrong. He led us to the garage. Then he kept on and on barking, even though he was hurt, poor thing. Laddie helped us search.”

  * * *

  It had taken them a few hours to realize Jamie was missing, and a few more to search the grounds. The vet had given the dog a sedative to help ease the pain of his bruised muscles, and he’d slept in Geoffrey’s study most of the day. He’d sat and paced and fretted about Jamie, ignoring Audrey’s migraine, quite sure he hadn’t run away, knowing he’d been taken. Ronnie couldn’t spare any men to search, and Falway’s interest lay with the car and Bernhardt. Couldn’t blame them, but it angered him just the same. That old helpless feeling haunted him, another life slipping through his fingers, knowing the pressing misery to follow.

  He’d watched Laddie waking and stretching in the early evening, still dozy and tottering like an old drunk. When his mind cleared, he’d suddenly pricked up his ears and barked without stopping. It was Laddie who kept trying to force him up the road. Geoffrey had finally put him in the car and driven, stopping every mile or so to let the dog pick up the scent. That had led them to the New Forest, but it was pouring with rain and dark by that time, and they lost the scent.

  He didn’t mention they’d gone home for the night—not that any of them had slept—but trying to search the forest in the dark would have proved fruitless. At first light he’d dispersed a team of laborers to search in a radial pattern, starting from the place where Laddie had seemed the most agitated. He drove them and himself with a frantic whipping anger; he hadn’t missed the sidelong looks from his exhausted men. They’d looked almost mutinous as mealtimes came and went, but he didn’t care. If Jamie lay out there, soaking wet and cold, he couldn’t last much longer.