‘Move along now!’ A guy in a tin hat with ARP painted on it is yelling through a megaphone. ‘Into the shelters with you. Don’t hang about.’
‘Doris, where are you?’
The woman looks up. ‘Over here, Alf.’
An older man hurries over. ‘Oh thank goodness. Are you all right, old girl?’
We step back and leave them to it. Bill takes my hand again as the woman calls out her thanks. I smile at her and follow Bill.
We run through the streets, the noise of the guns and bombs getting louder. I start to wonder if we’ll find a shelter. It’s not exactly safe out here, and these shoes are definitely not made for running!
Just when I think I’m going to run out of breath completely, we arrive at a shelter – a great big, brick-built thing in the middle of a road. We duck inside. It’s almost full of families and couples, and even more are coming in behind us. Bill and I settle down next to a woman with a baby in her arms and a toddler standing by her on the bench clinging to her shoulder. The little one is fast asleep, but the toddler is crying.
‘It’s all right, Tommy. You be a brave boy now and sit down here. Try and get some sleep, darling.’
‘Come here, love, I’ll give you a cuddle.’ An older woman tries to take little Tommy onto her lap, but he’s having none of that. He clings to his mum and cries louder.
‘Will you shut that kid up?’ yells an old guy in the corner. ‘It’s bleeding bad enough having to put up with Jerry, without your snotty kid whining all night.’
‘Well he ain’t going to shut up with you shouting like that and frightening the poor little mite,’ says the older woman. ‘Leave him alone.’ There’s a general murmur of agreement and the old man gives up. Tommy is getting tired and his crying subsides to a soft grizzle as he wipes his nose on his poor mum’s shoulder. She doesn’t take any notice. I think she’s as tired as he is.
I haven’t been in one of these big shelters before, and the first thing I notice is the smell – stale sweat, cigarettes, and a sort of damp tar. It’s pretty gloomy in here, with just a couple of lanterns hanging from nails along the walls. There must be about thirty people in here, and we’re all squeezed up against each other along benches on each side. Little Tommy is literally being held upright between me and his mum. I can feel him get heavier as he falls asleep. I’m also noticing a weight across my shoulders and realise that Bill has his arm around me.
I’m not sure how I feel about that. Is he trying it on, or is he being protective? If I didn’t know he’s my grandpa, I’d probably want it to be more than just looking out for me. But I do know, and he doesn’t, so it’s really weird.
I look up at him, not sure what I’ll do if he’s looking all google-eyed at me. No worries on that score though, he’s got his head back and eyes closed. Everyone is quiet now, some of them asleep, their heads on their chests or resting on the nearest shoulder. A few people are looking tense, flinching at every bang and pop outside. A couple more are using torches to read by. There’s a huge crash, not far away, and everyone jumps. I would’ve fallen off the bench if Bill hadn’t been holding onto me. Little Tommy starts to slip and I grab him. Bless him, he sleeps through it all. I slide him onto my lap and he snuggles in. His mum looks grateful for the break.
‘Blimey, that was close,’ someone says as we all settle back against the wall.
‘Not ’alf. I reckon that was Percy Street.’
‘Christ, I hope not. My old dad lives down there. He won’t come to the shelter – says he won’t give Hitler the satisfaction.’ She stands up. ‘I’d better get round there, make sure he’s all right.’
‘Don’t be daft, woman. You can’t go out there.’
She hesitates. The noise out there is horrible. The drone of the planes, the high-pitched whine of the bombs dropping, the ack-ack-ack of the anti-aircraft guns, all combined with shouts and hisses and pops. It sounds like total chaos. The woman looks miserable, and sits down again, bowing her head as though she’s praying. Someone pats her knee. ‘Don’t worry, love. I’m sure he’ll be all right. It probably weren’t anywhere near Percy Street. You stay here where it’s safe.’
Good call. I wouldn’t go out there, I can tell you. At least I don’t think so. How would I feel if it was a relative of mine?
‘I hope May and Nelly are all right,’ I whisper to Bill. Maybe I should be praying for them too?
‘They’ll be fine, don’t worry,’ he says softly. ‘They know what they’re doing. And I’ll see you right n’all ’cause I promised Nell, didn’t I? If anything happens to you, she’ll have my knackers in a bag.’
‘Eww! Nice picture you’re painting there, Bill! But I doubt it. Nell hates me.’
‘Don’t talk daft. Nell’s all right. She’s got a good head on her shoulders, my nan says. Mind you, she frightens the life out of me,’ he smiles, and I feel a bit better. It’s not just me then.
‘She’s like a strict teacher, isn’t she?’ I can’t resist it.
‘Yeah, now you come to mention it. I can imagine her giving someone a right caning.’
I giggle. ‘Stalking down the corridors in her mortar board and gown while everyone gets out of the way.’
‘Yeah. I’ve got a sergeant like that. When he’s on the prowl, lads will dive through open windows to get away from him.’
‘Do you like being a soldier?’
He shrugs. ‘It’s all right. Better than doing nothing. I suppose I could’ve got work down the docks, but I didn’t fancy it. It’s sod’s law I ended up defending the bloody place. I was hoping the army would get me out of here.’
‘Don’t you like living in London?’
‘It’s all right. I wanted to see other places, though, just to check it was the best place for me. And I do like being a soldier. I feel like I’m doing something important, you know?’
‘Don’t you get scared?’
‘Christ, yeah. Everyone gets scared, Rosie. You’d be daft not to. But at least if Jerry comes up the Thames I know how to use me gun and can do me best to send him back where he came from. We all feel like that. It’s a rotten job, but me and the lads would rather be ready than sitting on our backsides learning bloody German.’
‘It won’t come to that.’
‘Well, we hope not. But who can tell?’
He looks up, and we both listen to the sound of the battle raging outside. I want to tell him it won’t last for ever, but who’s going to believe me when we’re sitting here in the middle of it all?
Another big bang, followed by the sound of debris crashing on the roof of the shelter. Dust showers down on us. I cover Tommy’s head to protect him. He looks so sweet, except for the twin lines of snot running out of his nose.
‘Hey, where did I put that hanky?’
‘In the pocket I think,’ Bill fumbles round near my hip and pulls it out for me.
‘Thanks,’ I say, a bit embarrassed. Have I just been groped? I don’t think he meant anything by it. Now if it had been that slimy Harry I’d have been sure and definitely have smacked him one. Bill moves his hand back to my shoulder, and I give him the benefit of the doubt. I’m quite pleased actually, to think my grandpa isn’t taking advantage of the situation.
I wipe Tommy’s nose as best I can without disturbing him.
‘Nice little tyke, ain’t he?’ says Bill.
‘Aren’t they all when they’re asleep?’
‘I suppose. They’re a handful at that age, I can tell you.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I’ve got half a dozen brothers and sisters. I don’t half miss them.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Me older sister is married and lives over Clapham way. Mum got evacuated with the littl’uns ’cause the youngest is about this one’s age.’
Tommy’s mother stirs. ‘I’m going next week,’ she says. ‘My husband didn’t want me to go, but I got a telegram yesterday. His ship has gone down with all hands. I ain’t risking losing my babies now.’
Her eyes fill up with tears, and so do mine.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.
She sniffs. ‘Don’t be. He was a sod. I don’t reckon being in a war would’ve made him any better. Now I know he’s not coming back I can make the best of it for the kiddies. I’m just scared we’ll be blown to kingdom come before I get out of London. I’ll never forgive myself for staying here, putting them through all this.’
Well, that was unexpected. I glance at Bill and he raises his eyebrows. I don’t know what to say, but the baby in her arms is stirring, and the woman turns her attention to it.
‘So, where’s your mum and the kids?’
‘Some place out in the middle of nowhere in Wales.’
‘That’s nice,’ I say.
‘That’s not what Mum says. She says it’s a pokey little place and the locals all talk funny. She can’t understand a word they say. It’s miles to the nearest town, and there’s nothing but mud and trees everywhere.’
‘Well, I suppose it might seem a bit different from London. But, hey, at least they’re safe.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so. Where are you from, Rosie? You ain’t from London, that’s for sure.’
‘Wiltshire. And no, I don’t live on a farm.’
‘But why come here? I mean, you’d’ve been better off becoming a land girl, wouldn’t you? London ain’t no place for a young girl who ain’t used to it.’
‘Tell me about it,’ I sigh. ‘But sometimes we just don’t have any choice. I was only going to buy a charger, but I fell into a space-time vortex or something in Gran’s hall and ended up …’ Oh God. Did I really just say that? Bill is staring at me like I’m an alien, so I must have done. I feel my stomach knotting up. The people around us are either sleeping or chatting softly with their neighbours, so I don’t think anyone else heard me. But Bill did, and it’s clear he doesn’t know what to say.
‘Bill?’
He sighs and shakes his head. ‘I’m starting to see what Mum means. You country folk talk right funny sometimes, don’t you?’
Phew, maybe I got away with it.
‘There’s nothing wrong with being different. Life would be dead boring if we were all the same.’
‘But there probably wouldn’t be no wars though, eh? If we was all the same there wouldn’t be nothing to fight about, would there?’
‘Good point.’
We sit here, me cradling little Tommy, Bill’s arm round me, lost in our own thoughts. The old man in the corner is snoring loudly. Someone near him laughs. ‘Bleeding hell, he’s making more noise than that poor kid did. Silly old sod. Give him a poke.’
‘Oh leave him. At least while he’s snoring he ain’t moaning.’
I don’t know if I’m just getting used to it, but the noise outside seems to be lessening. Finally, the all-clear sounds. A collective sigh of relief runs round the shelter and people stand and collect their things. I stay where I am, not wanting to disturb Tommy, but he senses something’s happening and starts to wake up. He takes one look at me and wails for his mum.
‘It’s all right, Tommy. Your mum’s here, see?’ I point, and he wriggles off my lap and attaches himself to her leg.
‘Do you need any help?’ I ask her.
She shakes her head. ‘No thanks, love. Ta very much for holding him for me, but we’ll be all right now. Our place is just round the corner. I’ll get them home and start packing. Please God, we’ll be down at my sister’s in Kent by tomorrow night.’
‘Well, good luck. Bye, Tommy.’
The little boy gives me shy wave as they leave the shelter. I stand up and stretch, and shiver. Holding Tommy had kept me nice and warm. Now he’s gone I can really feel the cold. Bill stands up and nods his head towards to door. I follow him out, feeling guilty because I’ve still got his jacket on.
‘Here, you’d better have this back,’ I start to take it off, but he stops me.
‘It’s all right. You keep it. It won’t take long to get you back home. If we walk fast I’ll soon warm up.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to cuddle up a bit while we walk,’ he grinned.
I laugh. ‘So long as you don’t get any ideas Billy-boy.’
‘In this weather? Not a chance,’ he says. He puts his arm round my shoulders and I put my arm round his waist. He’s really tall, so I barely come up to his chin. ‘Come on, it ain’t far. You know the drill.’
‘What drill?’
‘Don’t hang about. Watch your step. Keep your eyes peeled for incendiaries and unexplodeds, and don’t trip over the hoses.’
‘Oh right. That drill.’ Around us the sky is glowing orange from the building fires.
Bill looks grim. ‘Looks like the docks got it again.’
The air is heavy with smoke. I hang on to his solid presence as we make our way along the crowded street. As we turn a corner, there’s chaos in front of us.
The road ahead is in ruins. A man is pulling up bricks and wood and flinging them aside. Others join him and soon everyone is scrabbling in the rubble.
‘Oi! Give us an ’and! Someone’s stuck down ’ere!’
Bill immediately starts organising a line to pass stuff from hand to hand. I stand here, watching, not knowing what to do.
‘Don’t just stand around gawping, girl! Get over here and help out,’ a woman shouts at me from the middle of the line.
‘Sorry,’ I run over and join in. Someone immediately shoves a lump of concrete into my hand and I pass it on. ‘Do you know who’s down there?’
‘It don’t matter. Whoever it is needs help, don’t they? The quicker we get ’em out the better. Let’s just hope they’re still in one piece.’
We carry on passing bricks and bits of wood and metal from hand to hand. I don’t know how long we’re there, it could be a few minutes or a few hours. Every now and then someone shouts for quiet and we stop and listen. I hold my breath, willing them to hear something. My arms are aching and my hands are scratched and sore, but no way will I give up until everyone else does. I remember the news reports from earthquake zones, and I realise now how awful it is to be searching for signs of life in the rubble. Even worse to be stuck underneath it all. I start to pray. ‘Please find them. Please let them be all right.’ Sweat runs down my forehead into my eyes, and when I wipe my face with the sleeve of Bill’s jacket I realised it’s filthy with dust and ash. I hope he doesn’t get into trouble with his sergeant.
‘How much longer can this go on?’ I ask the man next to me in the line.
‘As long as it takes, my girl. There’re people down there. If it takes all night, we’ll get ’em out.’
‘I wasn’t complaining,’ I say. ‘I just wish they’d find them.’
We carry on, moving rubble from hand to hand. In the streets around us other teams are fighting fires and the searchlights carry on seeking out stray bombers in the night sky. There’s an occasional crash as a building collapses. The air is thick with dust and soot and the smell of wood-smoke.
A lorry races past the end of the road, followed by a fire engine.
‘What’s all that about?’ someone asks an Air Raid Warden as he jogs past, heading in the same direction.
‘UXB near the gasworks,’ he shouts, not stopping.
‘Oh Christ.’
I’m just about to ask what a UXB is when there’s a bright, blinding flash. I drop the chunk of wood I’ve just been passed.
A huge explosion rips through the air, sucking the air out of my lungs. I’m flung across the rubble on the hot blast.
I land in a heap and curl up in a ball with my hands over my head, waiting for the world to collapse on me.
‘Rosie!’ Bill is there, picking me up like I’m a little kid. ‘Jesus Christ! Are you all right.’
‘I … I think so,’ I mutter into his shirt. ‘What was that?’ I look up, and behind Bill’s worried face I can see an even brighter glow.
‘The gas works. We’d have been walking by it b
y now if we hadn’t stopped here.’
There’s a shout behind us. In the area where we had been clearing rubble a man is calling us over. ‘I heard her! She’s down there all right. Come on, everyone. We’ve got to get this lot moved so we can get her out.’
We start clearing again. Even though we’re all tired (and I’m covered in bruises from my unscheduled trip across the bombsite), we work quicker, knowing there’s a good chance of getting someone out of there alive. After a few minutes they call for quiet again. A couple of men, Bill included, are hanging down into the hole we’ve created. We all crowd round.
Bill pulls himself out, grimacing in frustration. ‘I’m too big. There’s not much room down there. We need someone smaller to get in and clear the way.’
CHAPTER TWELVE
I look around. It’s obvious who’s the smallest. My hand goes up before I have time to think. ‘Can I help?’
‘Don’t be daft, girl.’
‘No, Rosie, it’s too dangerous.’
‘Let her have a go.’
‘She’s just a kid.’
Now if there’s one thing I hate is being told I can’t do something because I’m a girl or because I’m too young.
‘Look, I’ve been potholing with my dad, and I’ve done a first-aid course.’ The caving trip was ages ago, but I loved it, and I got my Brownie first-aider badge when I was ten. But seriously, even that must count for something. I reckon I can remember how to do a leg splint if I need to.
No one else comes forward, so in the end I’m the only option. I take off Bill’s jacket and kick off my shoes. May’s dress isn’t the most practical gear to be wearing, but there’s not much I can do about that.
‘Here, love, you don’t want to ruin those stockings,’ says the woman who’d yelled at me earlier. She and another woman use their coats to shield me as I take them off. Bill is actually blushing as he takes them and puts them in his pocket.
Someone ties a rope round my waist and gives me a torch. ‘There’s a woman down there in the cellar, a few feet to the right, I reckon. See if you can get to her. If you can get in, we should be able to get her out.’
Rosie Goes to War Page 10