by Pam Weaver
‘Dry rot,’ said a man. ‘This was bound to happen sooner or later. The whole place was as rotten as a pear.’
Pip sucked in her lips and wiped a renegade tear from her eye. This promised to be the longest day of her life.
As dusk came, there was a call for lights. People dug out every torch, tilley lamp and even oil lamps until the sappers managed to rig up an electricity supply. The work carried on regardless. At nine-thirty, there was another call for silence. They had come at regular intervals since Derek and Gideon had been found but with no response. This time, they heard two voices, faint but audible. The teams swapped again and everyone worked with renewed vigour. Mrs Hollick had joined Pip in her vigil, and someone had put a blanket around her shoulders. She was shivering, though she didn’t know it. Mrs Hollick tried to coax Pip indoors, but like the other mothers, she didn’t want to move. Billy and Leslie were brought up an hour and forty minutes later. Only three boys remained missing: Lionel Brown, Arthur Watts and Georgie.
No one could persuade Pip to leave but when her father and Elspeth arrived, her father put his arm around Pip’s shoulder and she gave way for the first time.
‘Come along, my dear,’ said the group captain, as she wept on his shoulder. ‘Let’s get you home.’
‘I can’t,’ cried Pip. ‘I can’t leave him. He’ll think I’ve given up hope.’
‘You need to give yourself a moment or two,’ her father said firmly. ‘You’ll be no use to him when he comes out if you collapse with the strain of it all. Let’s get you home and give you something to eat.’
Although she wasn’t used to being told what to do, Pip allowed herself to be led away, but only after she’d extracted a solemn promise from the men that they would come and fetch her the moment Georgie was found.
As she walked through the door of her kitchen, Pip was greeted by a delicious smell. Judith had made some vegetable soup, which was simmering away on the gas cooker. Stella had laid the table. Elspeth stood at the drop-down dresser making more sandwiches for the rescuers.
On her way to the bathroom, Pip stopped by Hazel’s bedroom. Her little girl lay in her usual position across the bed. Her face was flushed, but she slept soundly, with her toys scattered around her. Pip tidied a few teddies and gently stroked her daughter’s hair. Her heart was aching and she had but one thought in her mind.
Georgie. Oh, Georgie . . .
In the bathroom, she stepped out of her dirty clothes. They were covered in brick dust and stank of dry rot. Almost as soon as she’d washed her face and underarms, Pip felt refreshed. Back downstairs, she sat at the table as she was bidden, but after a couple of mouthfuls of the soup, her throat closed.
‘How did my father find out?’ she asked.
‘I told him,’ said Stella, pushing a cup of tea in front of her. ‘You need your family around at a time like this.’
Pip frowned. Family? It seemed odd using the word after all this time. Georgie and Hazel had been the only family she’d had for such a long time, but she was glad her father and Elspeth were here now.
‘Where’s Daddy gone?’
‘He’s taking a look at the site,’ said Elspeth, putting the sandwiches into a tin. ‘Your father has some experience of incidents like this.’
‘I don’t understand what the boys were doing in there,’ said Pip, shaking her head in disbelief. ‘They should have kept away. That’s why I arranged for the fences to be put up, and there were notices all around the building. What more could I do?’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ said Judith.
‘Boys will be boys,’ Elspeth said with a shrug.
‘You arranged?’ said Stella, puzzled.
‘I bought the damned place,’ said Pip angrily. ‘It was an eyesore and nobody was doing anything about it. I planned to turn it into a proper nursery. I never thought for one minute that those dreadful boys would be firing guns down there . . .’ Her voice trailed off.
Stella, Judith and Elspeth exchanged a glance.
‘What?’ Pip demanded. ‘Why are you looking at each other like that? Tell me.’
‘Rumour has it that it was Georgie who had the machine-gun bullet,’ said Stella.
‘What?!’
‘Apparently, he found it after the plane came down on the corner,’ Stella went on. ‘They fired it by way of a celebration that the war had ended.’
Pip stared at her in horror, then closed her eyes. ‘Oh God,’ she whispered. ‘What a terrible day.’
When she opened her eyes again, Pip rubbed her forehead with a shaky hand. ‘What about Lillian?’ she said quietly.
‘Don’t concern yourself with that now,’ said Stella. ‘You concentrate on Georgie. That’s enough to worry about.’
‘Did he kill her?’ asked Pip. ‘Was it Gordon?’
Stella shrugged helplessly. ‘I guess somebody did. The police have been there ever since.’
‘Excuse me,’ said Elspeth. ‘Am I missing something?’
‘I’ll fill you in later,’ Stella said dismissively.
‘What about Dorcas and Flora?’ Pip wanted to know.
‘They’ve gone over to Dorcas’s sister’s place in Lancing.’
Timothy Michael drew everybody’s attention as he stretched in his pram and made a contented baby noise.
‘I can’t stay here,’ Pip said, suddenly getting to her feet. ‘I have to go back.’
‘You need some rest,’ said Stella. ‘Sleep.’
‘I can’t,’ said Pip, grabbing her coat. ‘He’s my son.’
When she got back to the site, she discovered that Lionel and Arthur Watts had been brought to safety. Only Georgie remained unaccounted for. Mr Simpson, the local postman, grabbed her arm. ‘We’ve heard a child’s voice,’ he said urgently. Pip’s heart rate soared and she staggered, almost fainting. ‘He’s a long way down,’ Mr Simpson added, ‘but he sounds OK.’
He went on to explain that they’d heard Georgie calling out about ten minutes before. Apparently, he couldn’t move, apart from his hand. ‘We asked him if it was his left hand or his right, but he didn’t seem to know,’ said Mr Simpson. ‘He seemed a bit confused.’
‘He never does know his right from his left,’ said Pip solemnly.
‘After being underground for so long, I’m amazed that he sounds so compos mentis,’ said Dr Davies, coming up behind her. ‘He’s been down there, what – ten hours?’
The men called her over and Pip was taken to a reasonably stable pile of rubble. She kneeled down and called Georgie by name. ‘Are you all right? We’re coming for you, darling. Don’t give up. It won’t be long now.’
‘I can’t move, Mummy.’ His voice, which was like music to her ears, was faint, but it sounded strong. ‘The man is still on top of me.’
Pip froze. She turned to the others, who seemed equally shocked. Pip took a deep breath and said as calmly as she could, ‘What man, Georgie?’
‘Uncle Gordon.’
They had to saw through several beams as they went down, but eventually they made a burrow about four feet deep. Dr Davies put her hand down and made contact with Georgie’s wrist. His pulse was about ninety beats a minute.
With Pip calling encouragement, Georgie kept talking to his mother until his head was completely uncovered. The rescuers pushed a rubber tube down beside his face and told him they were going to send some water down.
‘Rinse your mouth, Georgie,’ Pip called. ‘It’ll make you feel better. Spit it out and then we’ll send down a drink.’
They heard him splutter and then the sound of spitting. When he was ready, they sent down some warm, sugared tea. Pip’s relief was palpable.
‘He’s not out of the woods yet, lady,’ one of the rescuers cautioned.
The men worked doggedly until someone cried, ‘The kid’s right. There is another chap down here.’
Pip took in her breath. She recalled the smoker she’d seen in the alleyway. Could that have been Gordon Harris? Had Lillian chucked him out? She could
have done, Pip supposed. She was determined to have a new life, wasn’t she? Maybe that was why Gordon was camping out in a cellar with a crowd of small boys.
CHAPTER 37
Dr Davies wriggled down the hole until she was beside Georgie’s exposed hand and head.
‘Where does it hurt, Georgie?’
‘I want my mummy.’
‘All in good time, young man. Are you in any pain?’
‘My legs,’ he said. ‘I can’t feel them at all.’
The doctor explained that she was going to give him an injection. ‘You may feel a sharp prick,’ she said, ‘but it will help you.’
Once the rescue squad had managed to get a soldier’s kitbag out of the way, they gained access through the rubble to the side of Georgie’s body. It turned out that he was in a crouched position, his face pushed down to the floor. They knew once they moved him and the blood flowed freely again, he would be in some discomfort, but the eighth of a grain of morphine Dr Davies had just given him would help. It appeared that Gordon lay across Georgie’s lower back. He wasn’t moving, but he had a faint pulse. At first, they thought Georgie’s feet were under him, but as they extricated the child, it turned out that Georgie’s knees were under his chest. All that remained was to get Gordon out as well.
As Georgie was hauled to the surface, Pip wanted to snatch him away and hold him tight, but the doctor had to examine him first. She had no hesitation in declaring him in reasonable condition, but she wanted him to go to hospital for a proper check-up. By the time Pip got close enough to hold Georgie’s hand, his rescuers were tousling his hair and calling him a brave young fellow. The medics put him on a stretcher and walked across the road to the hospital.
He was woozy from the morphine, and he complained that his legs were all pins and needles, but apart from that, he seemed relatively well.
‘Mummy, why didn’t you come sooner?’
‘You were a long way down, darling,’ said Pip.
‘I was scared.’
‘I know,’ Pip said gently. ‘So was I. Somebody said you fired a gun.’
‘I didn’t have a gun, Mummy. I only hit the bullet with a hammer.’
Pip was alarmed. ‘Oh, Georgie, fancy doing a silly thing like that.’
‘Aw, Mummy,’ he said. ‘You should have heard the bang. It was fantastic.’
As her mother-in-law brought Timothy Michael into the bedroom, Stella woke from a deep sleep to the sound of his lusty cries. Bright sunlight snaked its way between the curtains, which weren’t properly closed. Had she overslept? What time was it?
‘All changed and ready for his breakfast,’ said Judith.
Stella pulled herself sleepily up the bed and took her son into her arms. A second or two later, although she was still half asleep, he was drinking greedily. She glanced at the clock. A quarter past six.
Judith was still in her nightdress with a matching lightweight dressing gown. Her hair was in a long plait, which reached halfway down her back. As she left the room, it occurred to Stella that she had never seen her mother-in-law looking so casual. She was always in her uniform, or smartly dressed for some occasion, or in an evening gown. She was even smartly dressed when she was in the garden.
A little later, Judith reappeared with a cup of tea. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked as she put the cup on the bedside table. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Like a log,’ said Stella. ‘I feel dreadful that I didn’t even hear him.’
‘We moved the pram into my room and I put him next to our bed,’ said Judith. ‘After yesterday, I thought you could do with an uninterrupted night’s sleep.’
It was Stanley, Pip’s father, who had arranged for Stella and Timothy Michael to spend the night with her in-laws. It was only when Pip got home from the hospital and told them that they were keeping Georgie in overnight that it occurred to everyone that there weren’t enough beds in the house. Stella was all for pushing the pram back to Salisbury Road, but the group captain felt that under the circumstances, it wasn’t a good idea for her to be alone. Staying with Desmond and Judith was the obvious solution, even though at first Stella wasn’t so keen. She liked them well enough, but Judith, with her exacting ways, always made her feel slightly inadequate, and besides, she’d never actually stayed at their house before. However, her apprehensions were brushed aside, and a little while later, she was standing outside the door of the Knowle with Timothy Michael in his pram. Desmond welcomed her with open arms. Judith was kind and efficient. She quickly made up the bed in Johnny’s old room for Stella, and after Desmond had taken the pram apart and carried it upstairs, Timothy Michael was left on the landing outside the door simply because there was no room in the bedroom.
Stella had been exhausted, so they’d had little conversation. Her parents-in-law had been very sad to hear what had happened to Lillian. They had walked down to the street in the evening to hear Stella sing with the Sussex Sisters in what was to be their last appearance. When they heard what had happened at the derelict house, it was Judith who had rallied the WVS canteen to make tea for the rescuers. Apart from the time she had taken a drink to the site for Pip, Stella had stayed in the house looking after Hazel.
She sat Timothy Michael up to wind him and noticed Judith’s winsome smile. All at once Stella felt guilty. Judith was his grandmother, but she hadn’t made a lot of effort to foster that relationship. She had never stopped Judith and Desmond from ‘dropping in’, but that wasn’t Judith’s way. How many times had she taken Timothy Michael to the Knowle? The answer was not many.
Their eyes met and Judith made to go.
‘Please stay,’ said Stella, indicating the small chair beside the bed. Judith hesitated but sat. ‘Did you breastfeed Johnny?’ It was a very personal question, but somehow it seemed appropriate.
They chatted amiably for some time about Johnny and his babyhood, and Judith seemed to soften as they talked.
‘I miss him,’ said Stella.
‘I do too,’ said Judith, and they exchanged a smile.
Timothy Michael finished feeding and Stella sat him up to wind him.
‘I’m sorry about Lillian,’ said Judith cautiously. ‘That was a terrible thing to happen.’
‘Yes,’ said Stella. ‘Awful.’
‘It must have been a ghastly shock for you both finding her like that,’ Judith went on. ‘Have the police said anything more?’
Stella shook her head. ‘It keeps going round and round my head. She could be difficult at times, but she was funny and she was feisty. Her fame was changing her, but I can’t imagine why on earth anyone would want to kill her.’
Timothy Michael burped and gave his grandmother a lopsided smile. Stella held him out to her. ‘Well, Timothy Michael, now that you’re all tanked up, how about giving your granny a cuddle?’
Pip woke with a jolt. Her bedroom door was creaking open as Hazel came cautiously into the room. Her hair was tousled, and she was still in her nightie. Looking every inch the frightened little girl, she held her knitted golly by one leg and twiddled her hair with the other hand. Pip lifted the bedclothes and her daughter ran to the bed and climbed in.
‘Are you all right?’ Pip asked, cuddling her close.
Hazel nodded. ‘When is Georgie coming home?’
‘Later on today,’ said Pip. ‘The doctor wanted to keep an eye on him, but he’s fine.’
‘Pat Tumber said it was Georgie’s fault that the house fell on top of him, but I said it wasn’t true.’
‘Pat may be right, darling,’ said Pip. ‘Georgie has been a very silly boy, but thankfully he wasn’t badly hurt. Isn’t that good?’
‘Will our house fall down?’ said Hazel, looking around anxiously.
‘No,’ said Pip. ‘Our house is very strong.’
‘I missed you, Mummy.’
‘I know you did, and I’m sorry I had to leave you, but you had Auntie Stella as well as Granddad and Auntie Elspeth to look after you. Mummy had to stay near the old house in case Georgie
needed me.’
‘But he didn’t?’
‘He did for a little while,’ said Pip, ‘but when they got him out, we took him to the hospital and then I came straight back to you.’ Hazel looked up at her with wide eyes. ‘In fact,’ Pip went on, ‘I came into your room and kissed you on the nose.’ She tapped Hazel’s nose as she said it. ‘But you were fast asleep.’
‘Auntie Elspeth read me a story,’ said Hazel.
They settled back on the pillow to doze, but Pip couldn’t get Lillian out of her mind. How on earth was she going to tell Georgie and Hazel that Auntie Lillian was dead? One thing was for certain: she’d have to do it soon. When she’d come home last night, the whole street had been buzzing with the news.
At eleven, Pip went back to the hospital as per their instructions to bring Georgie home, but before she went to the children’s ward, she headed to the men’s ward to make enquiries about Gordon Harris, who had most likely saved his life. It was still a complete mystery to her as to why he was in the house.
‘He’s doing well,’ the ward sister told her. ‘He has a bit of a bump on the head, which knocked him out for a while, but apart from that, all he’s got are some cuts and abrasions and two broken fingers. All things considered, he got off lightly.’
‘Can I bring my son in to thank him?’
The sister arched an eyebrow. ‘Visiting hours are from three to five.’
‘My son is supposed to rest when I get him home,’ Pip said. ‘It would be so much easier if we could pop in now. I think it’s important for Georgie to appreciate just how lucky he is.’
‘Well, if you put it like that,’ said the sister. ‘But don’t stay too long. It interferes with the ward cleaners.’
Georgie’s clothes were covered in dust and torn to shreds, so Pip had brought a bag of clean clothes with her. The sister of the children’s ward called Pip into her office first.
‘Doctor is very pleased with your son’s progress,’ she began. ‘He seems virtually none the worse for wear, but keep an eye on him. Make sure he gets plenty of rest and give him time to talk. He’s had quite an ordeal.’