by Carol Rivers
Andy shrugged. ‘It’s all I’ve got.’ He sipped his hot tea. ‘What about you? Are you married?’
‘I was,’ Molly replied, feeling a twist to her stomach. ‘Ted was with the British Expeditionary Force and died at Dunkirk in June.’
‘Christ,’ Andy said, frowning. ‘He was in the middle of it too, poor sod.’
Molly nodded, then went on to explain how she and Ted, after her dad’s retirement, had planned to build up the business and had even bought a van so they could travel to buy cheaper stock and make deliveries. ‘Then suddenly it all came to an end. I’d known Ted since we were kids. We had so many plans in mind.’
‘What’re you going to do now?’ asked Andy. ‘Keep the shop open?’
‘It depends on the damage. The bomb completely shattered the window. I didn’t even get time to go upstairs to look at our flat.’
‘You live on the job?’ asked Cissy.
‘Yes. Me and Lyn grew up there. After Mum died, Lyn got married and moved out to Sidcup—’
She stopped, as once more the ground began to tremble. ‘Oh, Gawd, where’s it all gonna end?’ Cissy moaned.
‘Let’s hope we’ve got someone looking over us,’ said Molly as she thought of the shop and flat already battered and bruised by the aerial assault. What were the chances that she, too, might not have a home to return to?
‘Don’t believe in that silly stuff,’ said Cissy fiercely. ‘Once we pop our clogs, that’s the end of it.’
‘Don’t be too quick to judge,’ Andy scolded. ‘My kids were dragged out of death’s jaws today. I dunno who arranged it, but whoever did, I’m grateful.’
Molly smiled. There was more to Andy Miller than met the eye.
Chapter Three
Molly woke with a start. Where was she? Slowly, yesterday’s events came back to her thoughts. The explosion outside the shop, her dad trapped under all that rubble, the hospital and meeting Cissy, Andy and the children.
She gingerly stretched out her arms and legs. Her coat had been no protection from the draughts that swept over the cold floors, and every bone seemed to ache.
‘Is there a lav round here?’ Cissy asked a male volunteer as he passed by. Bleary-eyed and yawning, she pushed back her mop of dark hair.
‘Only one’s working upstairs as most of the water’s off,’ he answered gruffly. ‘Army’s been brought in to connect us up again. Poor bloody firemen can’t use their hoses, so there’s fires burning in nearly every street and no water to douse them.’
‘Where can we get something to eat?’ Andy said, jumping to his feet.
‘You’ll have to wait your turn,’ the man replied. ‘They’re feeding the sick and the elderly first.’
‘But me kids haven’t eaten since they was dragged out of a burning building yesterday.’
‘Go to the rescue centre. They’ll set you up.’
‘How far is that?’ Andy asked grimly.
‘Down the Commercial Road.’
‘That’s a long way for kids to walk on empty stomachs.’
‘Have it your own way, son,’ the man said, walking away. ‘After last night, there will be hundreds if not thousands in the same boat.’
Andy drew his hands over his face and shook his head wearily. Molly knew he must be exhausted.
‘I could do with a fag.’ Cissy brushed down her creased coat as a large black beetle scurried across the floor. ‘You ain’t got one, I suppose, Molly?’
‘No, sorry.’
Cissy rolled her eyes. ‘So what are we gonna do now?’
‘Find a toilet that works,’ Molly suggested, once again threading her fingers through her hair and pulling at the tangles.
Evie sat up and rubbed her eyes. ‘I’m ’ungry.’
Mark stirred beside her, pushing aside his blanket. ‘What we got to eat, Dad?’
‘I’ll find you something,’ Andy said as he lifted his daughter into his arms. ‘Even if I have to carry you both up the Commercial Road.’
Molly and Cissy followed Andy and the children upstairs to the only working public toilets, then made their way to the hospital’s entrance. From the hospital steps they could see fires still burning, forming clouds of grey smoke that hung heavily over the city. Those people made homeless were carrying their few possessions in prams and carts; anything they could salvage from last night’s onslaught. The roads were covered in debris, bricks and shattered timbers.
‘Looks like hell,’ Andy said under his breath.
‘You ain’t wrong there,’ agreed Cissy, coughing and sliding out her flask. ‘I’ll drink to that.’
‘And I’ll say goodbye,’ Andy told them, lifting Evie into his arms. ‘Thanks again and good luck.’
‘You’ll need it most with them young ’uns,’ Cissy said in her forthright manner, but Molly looked anxiously at the two bedraggled children.
‘You could all come back to Roper Street,’ she offered suddenly. ‘I’ve food, and water from a yard pump if the mains aren’t working. But I can’t promise my shop and flat above will still be there. Who knows what happened overnight?’
‘How far is it?’ Andy asked with a frown.
‘Closer than the Commercial Road. About thirty minutes’ walk.’
‘That don’t sound too bad.’
‘Suits me,’ Cissy said with a shrug.
Molly just hoped she wasn’t leading them on a wild goose chase.
Molly noted the many incendiary bombs still burning as she took them towards the docks, navigating the uneven ground and obstacles as best she could. Most of the streets had deep holes and wreckage from the devastating attacks.
‘You can’t go no further,’ an ARP warden told them at the top of Westferry Road.
‘Why?’ Molly asked in alarm.
‘The rope factory’s still on fire. An unexploded bomb’s just been found—’ He stopped as a loud explosion shook the half-demolished buildings around them. ‘No time to jaw. Go back the other way!’
Molly held out her arms to Andy. ‘Let me take Evie. Then you can carry Mark.’
Hesitating only briefly, Andy passed his daughter to Molly and they all began to run, trying to avoid the shattered glass, collapsed brickwork and clouds of dust. Very soon she’d lost sight of Andy and Cissy as another billowing black smog enfolded them.
‘This way!’ the warden yelled from somewhere close by and grabbed her arm.
Molly held Evie close, though even with the warden’s help she began to feel tired and choked with the thick, cloying dust. By the time they reached the small wooden hut with a large red cross painted on the door, Molly was breathless and coughing. She fell onto the bench inside, gasping for air.
‘You two on your own?’ the warden panted as he gave Evie some water from an enamel mug.
‘No, Evie’s dad’s out there somewhere, and her older brother. There’s another woman too.’
‘Sit tight. Keep the door shut and use those masks on the shelf if you have to.’ He put on his own mask and disappeared.
It was a long ten minutes before the door opened again and Andy, Mark and Cissy, all coughing and spluttering, fell inside, followed by the warden.
‘Bloody Norah,’ Cissy gasped as she stared at Molly. ‘I thought I’d had me chips.’
Andy nodded as Mark gulped down water from the mug.
‘What you doing round these parts?’ the sooty-faced warden demanded. ‘Don’t you know this area is off limits? The bomb-disposal teams are still working.’
All three shook their heads.
‘Well, you know now.’
‘We must get to Roper Street,’ Molly said desperately. ‘That’s where I live.’
‘You won’t get there this way,’ was the answer. ‘Roserton and Chipka Street, Cleveland Terrace and East Ferry Road – they’re all no-go areas.’
‘There must be some way we can get to Roper Street,’ she tried once more. ‘There’s an alley leading off from Westferry Road. What about that?’
‘Too dangerous,
love,’ replied the warden. ‘Specially with the kids.’
Suddenly the wooden hut shook again. All the first aid supplies rattled on the shelves. A bucket of sand toppled from a stool.
‘Flamin’ heck!’ cried the warden. ‘Another one!’ He ran outside and there were raised voices. When he didn’t return, Molly lifted Evie into her arms. ‘Let’s go before he comes back. We’ll find a way somehow.’
‘Not bloody likely!’ swore Cissy. ‘You heard what he said.’
‘He didn’t say the alley had been hit. He only said it was dangerous.’
‘I’m with you,’ said Andy, taking hold of Mark.
‘You’re both mad,’ cried Cissy frantically. ‘But I ain’t staying here on my own.’
‘Come on, then,’ shouted Molly and Cissy shrugged.
‘In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose.’
Ten minutes later they stood huddled together on Chalk Wharf, the moss-covered bank that led down to the steel-grey waters of the Thames. Molly’s heart sank as she witnessed the extent of the bombing: from the Isle of Dogs down to the city, enemy bombers had left a trail of destruction in their wake. Across the Thames, the south bank and Surrey Docks were hidden by a sickly pink smog, while the north-easterly wind fuelled the fires still burning, spilling sheets of ash across the water.
‘Which way now?’ said Andy. ‘Is it far?’
Molly shook her head. ‘But look, the alley’s been sealed off!’ She pointed along the road to where there were fixed barriers and men in uniform patrolling the debris. Air raid wardens and rescue parties were digging in the ruins of Howeth Street, the road next to Roper Street, where many of the houses had sustained damage.
‘Fine mess we’re in,’ said Cissy accusingly. ‘What we going to do now?’
‘We’ll go that way instead,’ Molly decided, pointing to the houses nearest the water. ‘Most of them have been evacuated. We’ll cut through their yards.’
‘What if we get caught?’ Cissy scowled. ‘I don’t fancy walking all the way back again.’
Molly ignored this and hoisted Evie onto her other hip. She took a deep breath and forged on; one way or another, she was determined to get them safely back to Roper Street.
Chapter Four
At last they were there! But Molly’s legs almost buckled at the sight of the gaping hole in the road where the bomb had gone off. Two of the houses beside it now stood in ruins. Molly thought of Mrs Lockyer, the frail elderly lady at number six. And Liz Howells next door. Had they escaped?
‘At least those places are still standing,’ Cissy observed, nodding to the jagged line of terraced houses farther down the road. To Molly’s relief she saw that Dennis and Jean Turner’s house was safe.
‘Is that your shop?’ Andy asked as he joined them.
Molly nodded eagerly. ‘And someone’s boarded the broken window.’
‘Perhaps it was the warden,’ Andy guessed. ‘He’d have bolted the front door too, to stop any looters.’
They all made their way carefully around the crater, passed the disused bicycle factory and stood outside the store.
‘The sign’s lopsided,’ Andy said, ‘but not broken. A couple of nails will put that right.’
‘We’ll go round to the yard. I keep a spare key under the pump.’
With her breath held, Molly gave Evie to Andy and retrieved the spare key from the yard.
She cautiously opened the back door. What would they find inside?
There was a strong, sour smell when Molly walked into the room nicknamed by her father as the ‘glory hole’. It was where all the stock was kept adjacent to the shop, and normally as clean as a new pin.
Today a grey veil of dust had been draped over the many shelves of tins and packets of dried food, nails, screws, tools, needles and cottons, bottles and candles.
‘What’s that stink?’ Cissy enquired, turning up her nose.
‘Pickled onions,’ Molly replied as she saw the broken jars on the floor. ‘What a mess!’
‘Cripes, I could go down on me knees and lick all that up,’ Cissy laughed. ‘I could even eat the broke bottles.’
‘I’s ’ungry,’ said Evie with a tired sob.
‘So am I,’ said Mark.
‘Let’s go upstairs to the flat,’ Molly told them. ‘I’ll find you something nice to eat in the larder.’
‘I’d better go first. See if it’s safe.’ Andy lowered Evie to the floor. ‘Hold Molly’s hand and wait till I say you can come up.’
They all watched Andy mount the steep staircase. There was a long, tense silence. But finally he shouted down. ‘All clear. Except the front room. There’s a blooming great hole in the floor.’
Cissy thrust the last mouthful of bread, soggy with the juice of the pickle, into her mouth. To her, the National Loaf, a grey lump of stodgy dough, together with the spring water from the pump, tasted like manna from heaven. Her eyes almost popped out of her head when a pickled egg landed on her plate.
For once I’ve struck lucky, she thought to herself. Fancy finding meself in a place like this! A gaff with a kitchen and front room, and a passage leading off into three good-sized bedrooms. I must be dreaming!
Interrupting her train of thought, there was a shout from downstairs. Molly jumped up and went to see who it was.
Cissy took advantage of the moment and grabbed the last slice of bread.
Chapter Five
‘Den!’ Molly threw her arms around her good friend and neighbour, Dennis Turner. ‘How are you? How’s Jean and the twins? Is everyone all right?’
With a shy chuckle, Dennis Turner nodded. ‘We’re fine, Molly. Just fine. But old Stokesy, the warden, told us he’d taken you and yer dad to the hospital.’
Molly explained all that had happened, and Dennis’s lean, work-worn face with its toothy smile registered shock. He pushed a hand through his thick fair hair and frowned. ‘You was both lucky to come out of that lot. Have you seen across the road?’
Molly nodded. ‘Do you know if Liz and Mrs Lockyer are all right?’
‘Ain’t sure. It was bloody chaos in the streets but I managed to board up yer window.’
‘Oh, thanks, Den. I thought it might be Mr Stokes. Come upstairs. I’d like you to meet some people I met at the hospital.’
A few minutes later Molly introduced her guests. ‘Dennis, meet Andy Miller and his children, Evie and Mark. And this is Cissy Brown.’
‘Nice to meet you all,’ Dennis said in his friendly fashion. ‘Now, I saw that bloody great hole you had in yer front room, Molly. Think I’ve got some boards I can put over it for you.’
‘Like a hand, mate?’ Andy asked before Molly could reply.
‘Just the job,’ Dennis nodded.
‘That all right with you, Molly?’ Andy asked politely as he made his way round the table.
‘Well, yes, of course,’ she said, blushing.
‘You’re all welcome to use the Anderson tonight,’ Dennis told Molly after he and Andy had successfully made the repair. ‘Jean and the twins wouldn’t mind a bit of company while I’m out with the rescue squad. Be sure to put on your warm togs, though, as it’ll be freezing. Your two nippers, Andy, can kip in the bunks with Susie and Simon.’ He winked at Mark and Evie and they giggled as he hurried off down the stairs.
‘Well, you heard what he said.’ Molly held out her hands to the children. ‘Let’s find you some nice warm clothes, shall we?’
A few minutes later they were peering into the depths of Molly’s large wardrobe. ‘Now let me see. What can I find you?’
‘What’s in there?’ asked Evie, pointing to a small brown leather suitcase on the lower shelf.
‘Just a few things.’
‘Can we see?’ Mark pulled on the handle.
Molly hesitated. She’d packed all Emily’s things away in there and hadn’t looked at them since.
Before she could answer, Mark slipped the locks.
‘Whose clothes are these?’ he asked as he lifted the dusty lid
.
Molly took a deep breath. ‘I had a little girl called Emily once.’
‘Where’s she gorn?’
‘She’s with her dad in heaven.’
‘Me mum’s gone to heaven too,’ Evie said, pulling out a brown coat with a chocolate collar. ‘Can I have this?’
‘Yes, if it fits.’
‘This’ll do me,’ said Mark, winding Emily’s grey woollen scarf around his neck.
Suddenly Evie burst into tears. ‘I want me mum,’ she sobbed. ‘I wanna go ’ome.’
Molly gathered both Evie and the brown coat into her arms. What could she tell the child?
But it was Mark who answered. ‘You can’t go home cos we ain’t got one.’ His serious brown eyes swivelled to Molly. ‘We gotta find Betty and Len.’
Molly clutched the little girl tightly, smelling Emily as she did so. Why was life so cruel? Why had Emily and Ted been taken from her? Why were these children motherless? They’d done no harm to anyone.
‘I’m ’ungry,’ said Evie and stopped crying as quickly as she’d begun.
‘She always says that,’ accused her brother.
There were more tears and finally Molly looked firmly at the two squabbling children. ‘Now listen, you two, your dad won’t want to see you unhappy before he goes back to his ship.’
‘Are we staying ’ere, then?’ asked Evie, brightening.
‘Well, no, your dad is hoping to find your friends. Now why don’t you both run along and show your new clothes to your father?’
Molly watched them scamper off, Mark with his thick woollen scarf and Evie in Emily’s brown coat. They were delightful children and very brave. Just like Emily had been.
‘Are they all asleep?’ Jean asked as they sat in the Turners’ Anderson that night after Andy had gone with Dennis to the rescue squad’s station.
Molly nodded. ‘There’s just enough room for the four of them on the bunks.’
‘All a bit of fun for my two,’ Jean said with a sad smile as they drank the warm tea from the thermos. ‘But I feel sorry for Andy’s kids. Losing their mother so young and him having to go to sea again, well, it’s a lot to take in at their ages.’