‘Try St Thomas’s...’
Naomi trailed from one to another, across the river and back again, but no one had any knowledge of a fourteen-year-old girl by the name of Lisa Becker. Nowhere was there an unidentified child patient. Everywhere the hospitals were under immense pressure, trying to treat those who had been injured, those who were suffering from shock and those who were simply ill and in need of care.
She got back to Kemble Street in the late afternoon, worn out and miserable. She had found no trace of Lisa and she was beginning to accept that she must have been in Grove Avenue when the bombs fell. Determined not to give up quite yet, she made herself a sandwich and set out to visit the three local rescue centres.
The first was not far from Grove Avenue. Mrs Barber, a harassed WVS volunteer, was struggling to find shelter for all those whose homes were no longer habitable. No, she had not seen a fourteen-year-old girl wandering about on her own, lost.
‘Sorry, my dear,’ she said, dashing untidy hair out of her eyes. ‘I’ve a list of everyone who’s been here yesterday and today, where they came from and where I’ve managed to place them, but there’s no Lisa Becker. Try the Kingsland Road centre. It’s much bigger than this one.’
It was the same both in Kingsland Road and Shoreditch High Street. No one had heard of Lisa nor any unidentified girl. With a leaden heart, Naomi went back to Kemble Street.
12
Clutching his pound note, Harry had made a quick exit from the back room at the Black Bull. Truth to tell, he was afraid of Mikey Sharp, though he didn’t like to admit as much to himself. He liked to think it was a great thing to work for a man like Mikey, a man of the world who knows what’s what, a man in charge, The Man! Ever since that first day, Harry had been a runner for Mikey Sharp. He carried messages, delivered parcels, loaded and unloaded lorries and vans and did anything else that Mikey told him to. Harry was a child of the streets, a city-rat, and Mikey recognised something of his younger self in the boy. He was smart, fast on his feet and despite his small stature, he could handle himself in a fight. Yes, he had an eye to the main chance, but didn’t everyone? Hadn’t it been just that which had got Mikey to where he was now? Cock of the walk?
Harry made himself very useful to Mikey, but he never forgot that the moment his usefulness ceased, or if he made an error of some kind, Mikey wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of him, possibly permanently.
He’d soon found his way about the streets of East London, learning the alleyways and back doubles, able to outrun and evade anyone who might want to catch or question him about what he was up to. Working for Mikey he was never short of money, but he knew that he was walking a thin line and if he were caught while on a job somewhere there’d be no cavalry coming to his rescue. Mikey would disown him.
He was aware he’d taken a risk, telling that Dickett bloke to bring the whisky with him on Tuesday. Mikey might not have wanted it and simply having it in the same van as the fags could have posed a problem. Still, Harry thought as he was leaving the market to head towards Lisa’s school, Mikey had seemed OK about it and instead of the usual ten bob for a job, he’d given him a whole pound! As he passed a stall selling cheap jewellery he paused. He remembered how pleased Lisa had been with the necklace from Swan and Edgar he’d given her just before Christmas. There was no way he could ‘borrow’ anything from any of the stalls or barrows in Petticoat Lane – for a start he didn’t know which were actually run by Mikey – but with a whole pound in his pocket, Harry thought he’d buy something for Lisa, to make up for having left her to find her own way home on Saturday. He chose a bracelet of blue beads, thinking they were the same colour as the necklace. He handed over a florin for it and there was no change. Expensive, he thought, but worth it for Lisa.
When he reached the school he was surprised to find it apparently closed. Despite it being nearly dinner time, there were no children in the playground, no children in the street on their way home to their dinner. He stood outside the gates and watched for a while, but no one came or went. Where were they all? The place seemed deserted. He was about to go when he saw Miss May coming out of the front door. She was carrying a basket and her handbag and was clearly leaving for the day.
As she emerged into the street Harry stepped out in front of her, barring her way. She stopped, surprised, and then said, ‘Harry Black, isn’t it? You left at Christmas. I hardly recognised you.’
‘Is school closed?’ Harry asked by way of response. ‘Isn’t it term again yet?’
‘Yes, it should have started today,’ said Miss May, ‘but with all the bombing, well, things are changing here.’
‘So where is everyone?’
‘At home, I suppose. Sorry, young man, but I can’t discuss school matters with you.’ Then she added, ‘What are you doing here, anyway?’
‘Oh, nothing. Just looking for friends still at school.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, there’s no one here. Now, if you’ll just let me pass...’
Harry stood aside and watched as she hurried along the street and into the butcher’s.
Wonder if Lisa’s at home, Harry thought and turned his steps to Kemble Street. As he came to the corner where the pub now lay in ruins, he looked along the road and saw a woman, coming from the other direction, go into a house halfway along. Was that Lisa’s house? Harry thought it was. He’d watched her go into a house about there before now. He felt the bracelet in his pocket and decided to go and see if she was at home.
Perhaps, he thought, if I walk past the house a couple of times, Lisa’ll see me and come out.
He strolled up the road, passing the house on the opposite side. Yes, the one the woman had gone into was number sixty-five. He glanced across, but the front room windows were still blacked out. Even if Lisa was in there she’d be at the back, not sitting in the front room in the dark. He had just passed the second time when the woman came out of the house again, slamming the front door behind her. She strode off down the street without a glance in Harry’s direction. Harry waited for several minutes in case she came back and then went up to the front door. He gave it a push, but it wouldn’t open. Surely the woman would have left it on the latch if someone was still in the house. He gave a quick glance up and down the street. There was no one in sight. The two houses almost opposite were derelict and burnt out, so he risked it. He bent down and, pushing open the letter box, peered through. He couldn’t see much, just the edge of the staircase and a passage leading to the back of the house.
He banged on the door and when there was no response he called through the letter box. ‘Lisa! Lisa? It’s me, Harry. Are you in there, Lisa? I got something for you.’ The house remained silent. It was obviously empty.
Where is she? Harry wondered. Now he’d got her a present he wanted to give it to her.
Hilda’s! he thought. That’s where she’ll be, round Hilda’s house.
He decided to go round there and wait for her to come out, then they could walk back to Kemble Street together. He wouldn’t knock on the door or anything, he’d just wait for her, like he did outside school sometimes.
He set off down the road, back the way he’d come. He knew where Hilda lived. He’d followed the girls home from school on one occasion just to find out. Now he headed for Grove Avenue, determined to see Lisa before he went back to the hostel.
As Dan and Naomi had before him, he turned the corner into Grove Avenue and came to an abrupt halt. There was a yawning chasm where two houses had been completely destroyed and one, he was sure, was Hilda’s. He stared at the sagging houses on either side of the gap, both unstable, both open to the elements. The front door of one of them stood out, a brave royal blue. He remembered that door; he’d admired the colour and it was the house next to Hilda’s.
They’ve been bombed out, he thought with a jolt. So where’ve they gone?
At that moment the door of the house behind him opened and a man in ARP uniform came out.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked. ‘I’m the local
warden. Are you looking for somebody?’
‘I... I’m friend of Langs,’ Harry said uncertainly. ‘That is their house? The one bombed? Are they OK? Where they gone to?’
‘A friend of the Langs?’ The warden looked him up and down. He didn’t look the sort of youngster who’d have been friendly with the Lang family.
‘I was at school with Hilda,’ Harry said, sensing the man’s reluctance to tell him anything. ‘I came to see how she is...’
‘I see.’ The warden’s attitude softened a little. ‘Well, I’m sorry to tell you that they took a direct hit. No survivors.’
Harry stared at him incredulously. ‘You mean they’re dead?’
‘I’m afraid so, son,’ replied the warden. ‘The whole family, and another friend. Perhaps you knew her too, Lisa someone?’
Harry felt the whole world swing round him. ‘Lisa?’ he whispered. ‘Lisa?’
‘Afraid so. Sorry to have to break the news to you sudden, like this. Her poor parents was here yesterday, looking for her. Broke my heart to have to tell them, an’ all. She’d spent the day with the Langs and was in the house when the raid came.’
‘Did they... did you find bodies? Lisa’s body?’
‘There weren’t much to find,’ the warden said soberly. ‘They took what there was away first thing yesterday. Bulldozer’s coming in any day. Have to take down them other two houses. They ain’t safe, neither.’ He looked hard at Harry’s face, completely drained of colour and said, ‘You all right, mate?’
Harry gulped hard. ‘Will be,’ he said. ‘Will be soon, just shock, you know?’ He gave one last look at the bomb site and then turned and walked away.
Once he was out of sight of the still-inquisitive warden, Harry broke into a run. He ran to the park, to the bench where he and Lisa always met. It was warm and sunny; the park looked as it always had, except for the sandbagged gun emplacement at the far end. The trees were dressed in their autumn finery, yellow and orange and gold. The ducks still quacked on the pond, children still played on the swings and slid down the slide, watched by their mothers.
How can all this be going on as if nothing has happened? thought Harry fiercely. How can the world simply go on as if nothing had happened?
He remembered the time when the Duke had first been bombed, when Lisa’s friend Mary had died. What had he said then? Something like ‘she ain’t the first and she won’t be the last’. Lisa had accused him of not caring, and she’d been right, but he’d promised he’d care about her. He’d tempted fate, he’d said lots more were going to die, but not Lisa, brave Lisa from Hanau.
He thought of the way he’d put her on the bus to go home by herself and felt himself go cold. If he’d gone with her she might not have gone to Hilda’s, she might have stayed with him till it was time to go home. No, the raid came too early, but if he had stayed with her he would have taken her into a shelter somewhere. He’d have kept her safe. Except he couldn’t have stayed with her. He had to meet that Dickett bloke for Mikey. He knew he wouldn’t have dared go back to Mikey and say, ‘Sorry, couldn’t make the meet, had to take a girl home instead.’ Take a girl home! That sounded as if she was his girlfriend, which would be worse. No, there was no way he could have missed the meeting with Dickett. Mikey’s business had to come before anything else, or there’d be major trouble.
He sat on in the park, thinking about what he could or couldn’t have done, and then he suddenly remembered that the warden bloke had said there was little left to find. What if Lisa hadn’t gone to Hilda’s? After all, he, Harry, knew that she hadn’t been there the whole day like she was meant to be. Suppose she hadn’t gone there at all? For a moment hope sparked, only to be doused again with cold common sense. If she hadn’t gone to Hilda’s, where had she gone?
But as he gave this even more thought he realised that he had to tell Lisa’s foster parents that Lisa had been with him for much of the day and, just possibly, hadn’t been in the Langs’ house when it was hit. They would know where else she might go. Decision taken, he jumped to his feet and set off for Kemble Street, afraid if he lingered and thought about it some more, he might not go.
It was creeping towards dusk as he approached the house. No lights were showing, but he assumed the blackout was in place and hoped they were at home. He walked straight up to the front door and listened. He could hear the wireless on inside and so, taking his courage in his hands, he knocked loudly.
The wireless was turned down and a woman’s voice called, ‘Who is it?’ Harry drew a deep breath and called back, ‘Harry Black. I’m friend of Lisa’s.’
Immediately the door was flung open and the shadow of a woman was outlined against the deeper darkness of inside.
‘Come in, quickly,’ she cried. ‘Do you know where she is? Is she with you? Oh, thank God, thank God.’
Harry passed into the house and as soon as the door was shut the woman put on the light.
‘Who did you say you were? Oh, come in. Come into the kitchen and tell me where she is.’
Harry followed her into the kitchen where a man and another woman were sitting at the table.
‘He’s a friend of Lisa’s,’ she cried.
The man jumped to his feet. ‘Are you saying you know where Lisa is?’ he demanded.
Harry looked at their expectant faces and slowly shook his head. The man sank back into his chair and the woman let out a cry of despair. The second woman took her hand and led her back to the chair where she’d been sitting.
‘Who are you?’ asked the man.
‘Mr Federman, Mrs Federman.’ Harry looked at them as they nodded. ‘I don’t know where Lisa is, I wish I did.’
‘You said you were a friend,’ said Dan.
‘I was... I am. From Hanau, the same as Lisa. Same train. Met her at school. Lisa chased by some Nazis...’
‘Nazis? Here in England?’
‘Fascist boys,’ Harry said. ‘Hit her because she’s German. Teachers didn’t see. But I see.’
‘So what happened?’
‘You can see I’m a Jew. So can the Hitler Youth, so I learned to fight. These Nazi boys... I grab the gang leader and I beat him. I said I’ll break his arm but Lisa said “No!” I said if they touch her again or shout names, I will come back and next time I will break their arms. They all ran away.’
‘And it worked?’
‘Yes, it worked. And after that Lisa and me are friends.’
‘But we know nothing about you. Why didn’t she tell us about you?’
Harry shrugged. ‘Dunno. Her secret.’
‘So, why have you come here now?’ asked Dan, still wondering if he could believe all this youth was saying.
‘Because Lisa not at Hilda’s house on Saturday. Up west with me.’
‘What? Up west? Where?’
‘To West End.’
‘Why? No, never mind that. Where is she now?’
‘Dunno. She left West End on a bus to come home. Today I hear Hilda’s house is bombed. Everyone killed. But maybe Lisa wasn’t in Hilda’s house. Maybe she was still on bus when the bombers came.’
‘Was she going to Hilda’s when she left you?’ asked Naomi, speaking for the first time since Harry had begun his story.
‘She said yes. She wanted not to tell you lies. She told you she was going to Hilda, so she must go there, but not all day. Perhaps not there when raid comes.’ Harry was vehement now. ‘Must be still on bus.’
‘No, I’m afraid not,’ Dan said. ‘The house wasn’t bombed until the second raid. She must have gone there as she planned. She didn’t come home here. We think she stayed there...’ his voice quavered, ‘to be safe.’
Harry’s shoulders slumped. He had been so sure that Lisa must have been somewhere else. ‘May be hurt somewhere?’ he suggested, but Naomi shook her head.
‘I’ve been round all the hospitals. No one’s heard of her. She ain’t in any of them.’
For a moment the room was silent, but the silence was suddenly rent by the howl of
the air raid siren.
Dan stood up. ‘Better go,’ he said. ‘You all go down in the cellar.’
The two women got slowly to their feet, but Harry looked at Dan. ‘Not to shelter?’ he asked.
‘No, firefighting,’ said Dan, and put on his coat.
‘I come,’ Harry said. ‘Fight fires.’
Dan gave him a sharp look and then said, ‘Come on then, we always need runners.’ He reached over and kissed Naomi hard before saying, ‘In the cellar till the all-clear. OK?’
Shirley and Naomi promised and Dan and Harry left the house together, heading out into the hostilities of the night.
13
‘She seems to have lost her memory, doctor,’ said Sister Miller as they discussed the child in the corner bed. ‘Her surname is Smith, we know that much, and the note that came with her from Casualty says that she’s from Harrogate, though I’m not sure how we know. She was brought in by ambulance after the first raid on Saturday and that was the information the driver passed on.’
‘How has she been since she came round properly?’ asked Dr Greaves.
‘Physically better, both her head and her arm are healing, but she has no memory. She doesn’t remember her name and as far as I can tell she doesn’t remember anything else either. She speaks English, but I’m sure it’s not her first language. At times she lapses into German.’ She looked across at the corner bed, hidden behind drawn curtains. ‘It’s why we’ve put her over there. It upsets the other patients if she starts to speak in German. She’s very withdrawn,’ she went on. ‘All she says is, “I don’t know my name.” I’m really worried about her.’
‘I see,’ said the doctor. ‘Well, let’s go and have another look at her.’
‘Good morning, young lady,’ he said cheerfully when he reached her bedside. ‘And how are we today?’
The girl looked up at him. She was pale, her eyes huge in her pinched face. ‘I don’t know my name,’ she whispered.
‘So I hear,’ he replied. ‘The trouble is, you’ve had a nasty bang on the head, and just for now your memory isn’t working. It often happens after a bang on the head. Nothing to worry about. It’ll all come back to you soon, you’ll see.’
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