One London Night

by Denise A. Agnew

  “I was out in the city where the real stories are.” Betty proceeded to tell them about the bombs dropped in the gardens of Buckingham Palace and the information her paper would have to people the next day.

  The waiter came and brought Alec and Sylvie the white wine they’d ordered, and Betty asked for a second glass.

  “I’m always on the lookout for a great story. In fact, stick with me, Sylvie, and you’ll get all the wonderful stories,” Betty said.

  Sylvie took a slow sip of her wine before answering. “Which stories would those be?”

  Betty glanced around the room. “Sometimes Winston Churchill comes to the hotel for lunch. But there are plenty of other politicians, stars, and aristocrats. This is the place to be.”

  Sylvie nodded. “Thank you for the information. I’ll keep my eyes open.”

  Betty returned her attention to Alec, swiveling her lithe body in the chair to face him. “I’d like to interview you when Sylvie is done. I could take it from a whole different angle.”

  Under normal circumstances, Sylvie would find the woman amusing. Tired and weary, Sylvie felt heat rise into her face at the woman’s double entendre.

  Alec chuckled. “I sure you could, Miss Parks.”

  “Please. Call me Betty.” Betty’s voice purred when she spoke, a sweetly gentle sound that would calm almost any beast.

  Sylvie settled back in her chair with her wine and watched Betty dominate the conversation until their food came.

  “I’ll let you two eat in peace,” she said, moving away from their table with a smile and a wave. She left the River Room with a sway that caught the attention of several men in the room.

  Sylvie looked at the eggs on her plate and realized something was different about them. “I think this was made with powdered eggs.” She tasted it and wrinkled her nose. “And what is this?”

  Alec smiled. “Looks like turnips and vegetable stuffed steak. Quite the delicacy around here these days.”

  Considering what it was, the taste didn’t matter to her hungry stomach. “I’m not complaining, I’m just starving.”

  “That was interesting,” Alec said as they dove into their meals with enthusiasm. “Miss Parks, that is.”

  “She’s older than you by about fifteen years.”

  Alec traded his fork for his wine glass. “You think so? And what of it?”

  Sylvie kept her voice modulated. “Surely you see what she was doing?”

  Alec sipped his wine and relaxed back into his chair. “Of course. She wasn’t very subtle, was she?”

  “No.”

  Alec leaned closer to her as the music became louder. “Don’t worry, Sylvie. I know what she was trying to do. I can handle her. She’s a bit of fun.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t want to think about Betty.

  “What does that mean?”

  She chewed her steak thoroughly. “It means she has no intention of writing a story on the AFS.”

  “You don’t really care about that, do you?”

  She finished her wine with a gulp. “Right now what I want is sleep. I’m exhausted.”

  “Getting bombed will do that to you, I hear.”

  Sylvie couldn’t keep one question to herself. “Why didn’t you go to a shelter near Oxford Street earlier today?”

  Alec crossed his arms. “I couldn’t let you be in this city, a lamb for the slaughter, while the Jerries bombed us.”

  “I told you I’m not an innocent. You don’t need to protect me.”

  He put up one hand. “I heard you the first time. But you wanted to know why I came back. I was worried.”

  She acknowledged his concern with a nod. “Thank you for that. But don’t risk yourself like that again.”

  “I can’t promise that, Sylvie. If I’m going to fight fires, I have to be willing to take risks.”

  Frustrated with him, she shook her head and finished dinner. “What do you plan for the rest of the weekend?”

  “Tomorrow I’m heading over to Gough Square. I’m to meet a Bernard Hamel there about the AFS. What are you planning?”

  “I think I’ll rest here a bit.” She didn’t tell him what she really planned to do. Knowing Alec, he’d try to convince her not to carry out her idea.

  Eventually they headed upstairs. When they reached their rooms, Sylvie yawned. “Goodnight, Alec.”

  Alec’s handsome smile grew wide. “Sleep tight, Sylvie. I have to leave for Gough Square very early. Meet me at the River Room at six o’clock in the evening for dinner?”

  “Sounds good. Good night.”

  When she lay down that night, she twisted and turned for hours before exhaustion claimed her.

  Chapter 5

  News Of The Day

  New York Herald Tribune

  Small daylight raids plagued London yesterday with little damage, although Buckingham Palace was hit again. The building was straddled by a stick of six bombs, and two burst in the Quadrangle approximately 80 yards from the window where the King and Queen discussed the day’s plans with Sir Alexander Hardinge. They were hit with broken glass. Two bombs fell in the forecourt, one damaging the Royal Chapel and one falling in the garden without harming anything. Ten bombs dropped in Eastbourne’s centre, starting large fires and resulting in twenty casualties. At West Ham (London), 50 casualties occurred when the Ravenshill School was hit at mid-morning. Homeless were being taken care of there.

  The luxury liner SS City of Benares left Liverpool with British children being evacuated to Canada. The ship was torpedoed by a U-boat during the night. Only thirteen of over ninety children on board survived.

  * * * *

  Saturday, September 14

  Early Saturday morning Alec headed to Gough Street with his mind roiling about everything that happened Friday and what could happen today. Driving had proved a challenge because of streets being blocked from bomb damage. When he’d called his friend about storing the Bentley, he wasn’t home, so he’d try again tonight.

  When he found a place to park, he still had to walk three blocks. He stood outside a moment and recalled what he knew of this place. The station at Gough Street was fashioned from Dr. Johnson’s five-story house. It operated mostly as a rest and arts center for the Auxiliary Fire Service.

  When he walked in the front doors, he noted offices on either side of the open foyer. A middle-aged man exited the office to his right.

  “May I help you?” The man’s voice was clipped and official, his expression hard.

  “Yes. I’m Alec Kent. I—”

  “Oh, you. Well, come in.”

  Alec followed the man into the office on the right just as two other men in AFS uniforms came down the hall.

  “Sit down.” The man gestured.

  Alec did as told and noted the man’s name tag read Bernard Hamel. “Mr. Hamel?”

  “That’s me.” He reached into a pile of folders and opened one with Alec’s name written on it in big letters. “Alec Kent, age twenty-three, from Huntingdonshire.”

  Alec tried on a smile, but it felt false. “Yes.”

  Hamel’s brow creased. He scratched the top of his bald head and his blue eyes seemed detached and uninterested. His gray mustache twitched. “This is highly unusual, Kent. You’re underage by two years and blind in one eye. The two-year gap isn’t always a problem, but the blindness…”

  “I don’t see that as an impediment. I’m in prime physical condition, and I won’t slow anything down.”

  Hamel still stared at his file, casually rifling through the paperwork Alec had filed quite a long time ago. He reached one paper, stopped and stared for a long time.

  “Is there something wrong?” Alec asked.

  Hamel looked up. “Tell me one thing, Kent. Why the hell are you here?”

  The question threw Alec for a second before he recovered. “I want to do my bit. I tried to sign up for the forces, but being blind, even in one eye, is a disqualifier.”

  Hamel’s gruff face drew even more grim. “So you thin
k the AFS is where they put all the useless chaps?”

  Alec had anticipated this reaction, and although he didn’t care to be called useless, he also couldn’t afford to anger Hamel. “Of course not.”

  Hamel grunted. “What’s your real reason for being here? Unless you’re one of those thick fellas who believes this is lazy work. No one gets away with being lazy in the AFS. People work hard and sometimes they die too easy. You’re putting your life on the line doing this work, Kent.”

  “I understand that, sir. If I can’t fight for my country in the forces, the least I can do is help people here. You and I both know this war isn’t going to be over next month and maybe not next year. You need men who aren’t afraid of hard work.”

  “Hmm. Damn right it’s backbreaking work. You’re an unusual one, Kent. You could stay home at your comfortable estate.”

  Alec’s temper slid a bit higher, but he kept it under control. “How do you know what my home life is like?”

  A guilty look passed over the other man’s face for a moment before he composed himself. “Never mind that. I spoke a bit out of turn, perhaps. You’re right. We do need good, able-bodied men and women. Mostly men, of course. Can’t say I like women being in the AFS at all, but they make coffee and work tirelessly at the phones. So they’re serving their use, I suppose.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway…have a wife?”

  Alec had answered that question on the paperwork already. “No.”

  “Girlfriend?”

  For a leap in time, Alec thought of Sylvie and how much he might want to name her as an important person in his life. “No.”

  “Good. Because there isn’t time for girlfriends or wives at this facility. We work too many damned hours for that.”

  “I know. You can see there that my doctor gave me a letter of recommendation. He believes I’m capable.”

  Hamel’s eyes went hard. “We’re the last word. It doesn’t matter what your doctor thinks if we believe differently.”

  “Of course.” Alec could feel this whole plan slipping away, and desperation grabbed him. “But I will prove to you the blindness isn’t a problem.”

  Hamel’s expression didn’t improve, and Alec’s stomach dropped.

  Hamel sighed. “All right, we’ll test your physical conditioning. Plus we’ll put you through some scenarios to see if you can keep up. Come back tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  Hamel’s expression stayed cold. “That’s what I said. I know you expected to start on Monday, but we have some other people coming in that day. I’d rather test you without the others being around. Last thing I want to do is humiliate you in front of others. If you’re hired, you’ll work for four pounds a week,” Hamel said as he closed his file. “There are five substations and a half-dozen annexes in London.”

  “I’d like to work near Fleet Street. I hear there’s a station near there.”

  Hamel smiled, but his grin reflected friendly malice. “You’ll work where we need you. Why would you care what station you work at?”

  “No reason. Seems like a good location.”

  Good lie, Alec.

  “Right. Well, it depends on what happens tomorrow. Bring clothes you can do strenuous work in. If you pass tomorrow’s test, you’ll be provided with a uniform, paperwork, and instructions on which station you’re assigned to.” Hamel stood.

  “Sir, how did you know I’d be here today? Originally I was scheduled to be here Monday.”

  “Good guess. You fit the physical description in the paperwork.”

  Alec stood. “All right.”

  Hamel led the way from his office. “That’ll be all. I must prepare you, however. There is a ninety percent chance you’ll fail the tests tomorrow.”

  Alec’s patience started to fray, but he couldn’t afford to tell this man to naff off, as much as he might wish. “Thank you for the warning, sir, but I’m not worried. I’m confident I can do it.”

  Hamel cleared his throat again, and a commotion behind Alec made him turn around. Two men in their mid to late twenties stood in the doorway. One had short ginger hair, freckles, and was as skinny as a stick. The other reminded Alec of a bulldog with his tough-as-leather appearance and stocky body. Both men were about the same height as Alec. Hamel spoke from behind Alec. “Bink and Melton, what the hell are you doing here? You’re supposed to be over at the Fleet Street Station.”

  “We’re here on a break, sir,” the freckle-faced one said.

  “Yeah, thought we’d play some pool before our shift starts,” the bulldog-looking man said.

  Hamel gave another one of his grunts. “Alec Kent, this is John Bink.” He gestured at the ginger-head. “The other one is Felix Melton.”

  Both men entered the office and shook hands with Alec. Close up, Alec realized John Bink was around his age and Felix Melton closer to fifty. Both men eyeballed him, and Alec knew it had to do with his right eye. He looked directly at the men, determined to not allow their curiosity to bother him.

  “Call me Bink,” the ginger-haired man said.

  “Bink it is,” Alec said.

  “You a new recruit?” Bink asked.

  Hamel made a noise in his throat. “Not yet he isn’t. He’s back tomorrow for all the physical tests.”

  “Say, sir, we’re up to help with his test today if you want to do it.” Bink tossed everyone a crooked smile.

  Alec shifted on his feet as uncertainty rolled up his spine. “I didn’t come prepared to test.”

  Hamel looked at Bink and Felix, then Alec. “All right. We can get this done quickly with their help.”

  Felix rolled his eyes. “Bloody hell.”

  “Shut it.” Hamel frowned deeply at the stocky man. “I won’t take any blather off anyone today. We have work to do. Bombings are happening every day. No time to bugger around.”

  Felix didn’t look too chastised and pasted on a smile as he headed to the office. Alec realized if he wanted to a spot in the AFS, he would have to take the test today.

  “Come this way, Kent. I think we have an old set of clothes you can exercise in so you don’t muck up your fancies,” Hamel said.

  Alec glanced down at his clothes and frowned. Fancy? His long coat, sweater, and undershirt with khaki pants didn’t qualify as fancy, but maybe to ordinary working class men he looked like a fop. He followed Hamel to his doom.

  Alec wondered, for a smidgen of a second, if he’d made a huge mistake. Dressed in sloppy pants and a shirt and boots, Alec stood in the back yard of the Gough Street address along with Bink and Felix. Both Bink and Felix had self-satisfied expressions, as if they were assured of Alec’s failure.

  “So, guv, let’s get started.” Bink smiled.

  Felix clapped his hands. “First give us ten pushups, fifty sit-ups, and use that bar over there for ten pull-ups.”

  Alec nodded, a smile touching his lips. Alec dropped and banged out fifteen pushups and then turned over to start his sit-ups. With ease he completed sixty sit-ups. When he finished, he sat on the ground for a second and savored the shocked look on Bink and Felix’s faces.

  “Blimey,” Bink said.

  “Ain’t done,” Felix said with renewed vigor. “Time for the run. Run this yard for fifteen minutes.”

  Alec’s eyebrows went up. “Christ. Fifteen minutes?”

  “Yep.” Felix smiled widely.

  Alec shrugged and started his run. He’d run farther and longer in the country, unsure of what he’d face when they tested him or when he fought fires. At least it was cool outside. By the time he’d finished his fifteen minute jog, Felix and Bink’s mouths hung open when Alec finished.

  Alec stood still, panting from the exertion. “Anything else I need to do?”

  Alec sensed and heard movement slightly to his right and whirled in reaction just as Hamel came up on him quickly.

  “Well, well,” Hamel said. “I’m surprised.”

  “That I finished the tests or that I knew you were coming?” Hamel just stared at him, so A
lec supplied the information Hamel must want to know. “When a person loses sight, even partial, their other senses become more acute. My hearing improved after my accident.”

  Hamel nodded and smiled. “Right. Well, that’s good because that’s what I wanted to test. You’ll be no bloody good to anyone if you can’t tell a wall is about to fall on you.”

  Alec nodded. “I agree.”

  Hamel held a clipboard and pencil. “So, did our recruit here finish the proper tests?”

  Felix cleared his throat. “Yes.”

  For a wild second, Alec wondered if Hamel would still deny him a place in the AFS.

  Hamel wrote something on the papers attached to the clipboard. “Right then. You’re in, Kent. Don’t make me regret this.”

  Alec smiled widely, his satisfaction complete.

  “Bink, Felix, just don’t stand here. You’ve got other things to do.”

  Bink and Felix went into the building, and Hamel eyeballed Alec with continued skepticism.

  “I’m not one hundred percent convinced you’re a good candidate, Kent.” Hamel frowned, his expression hard and unforgiving.

  “You just approved me.”

  “Yeah, but it’s against my better judgment.”

  Alec’s emotions careened from happiness and relief to full on apprehension. “So why did you approve me? I just saw you sign off on the paperwork.”

  Hamel said, “I’ve never taken on a half-blind man. That’s why I’m apprehensive. But you passed the tests.” He shrugged. “So I signed off on the paperwork. Don’t push it, Kent. Just be happy. Come on, let’s find a uniform that’ll fit you.”

  * * * *

  Sylvie made short work of her powdered egg omelet and mutton bacon. It wasn’t the best food she’d had, but it did the job. She couldn’t complain. Some people had less. Starving, she’d polished off her food like there was no tomorrow. Since discovering what it was like to be bombed, she wouldn’t take things for granted. She retreated to her room long enough to don her long coat over a sweater and long pants and sturdy shoes. She might not obtain many interviews dressed like this, but she wanted to get a better feel for the city. She picked up a crude map of London from the front desk and headed for the revolving doors.