by Megan Rix
‘Misty’s not here,’ said Jack, coming into Amy’s room and interrupting her thoughts. ‘I’ve looked everywhere, but the front door was still open.’
‘She must have run off,’ Amy said, and she didn’t blame Misty at all. To a dog it must have seemed as though the sky were exploding.
‘We’ve got to find her!’ said Jack.
‘Wait!’ their mother cried as Amy followed Jack downstairs and out of the house. ‘You can’t go. What if there’s more bombs? What if you get hurt?’
‘I’m eighteen, Mum, and going off to war in the morning,’ said Jack. ‘I can take care of myself.’
Mrs Dolan bit at her bottom lip. She loved Misty, but her children were far more important to her.
‘We’ll be OK, Mum,’ Amy said. ‘If the air-raid siren goes off, we’ll duck into one of the public shelters.’
The thought of them reassured Mrs Dolan.
‘OK, but be careful,’ she called out as they ran down the path. ‘And don’t go too far!’
As Jack and Amy ran off along the smoke-filled street, people emerged from their homes, shocked and frightened, looking for company.
‘Why today …?’
‘I was just having a cup of tea …’
‘Lucky I bought those candles …’
By seven o’clock it was dark, the sun had set and the blackout had begun. Every window and door was covered with heavy blackout curtains, cardboard or paint. It had seemed like a nuisance before tonight, but not any more. No one wanted a glimmer of light escaping from their home to lead the enemy aircrafts’ bombs straight to them. Even the street lights were either turned off or dimmed.
Jack and Amy hurried on down Lordship Lane stopping anyone they could.
‘Excuse me, have you seen a dog?’
Most people didn’t stop or even bother to answer them. They were too intent on getting home and checking on their loved ones, especially now it was getting dark.
‘She’s about this big.’ Amy put her hand just above her knee.
‘She’s cream-coloured,’ Jack said to a woman, who brushed past him saying she couldn’t help when she realized he was talking about a dog. ‘One ear goes up and the other one goes down …’
‘And she’s pregnant,’ added Amy.
When they did manage to interest someone long enough for them to stop, rather than push on past, their description wasn’t much help.
‘So what breed is she?’ a man wearing a trilby hat and a beige raincoat asked them.
‘Well, she’s mostly collie, but she’s not black and white like a sheepdog.’
‘She’s creamy-coloured with floppy ears …’
Amy remembered Misty’s sodden fur during their last holiday. ‘She loves swimming!’
‘That’s a lot of help,’ the man said.
Amy was stung. ‘I’m sorry, I …’ But the man had already moved on.
‘It’s OK,’ Jack told her. ‘He’s just frightened. People act mean when they’re scared.’
The blackout hampered their chances of finding Misty. Even traffic lights and vehicle headlights had special slotted covers to deflect the beams downwards so they wouldn’t be so noticeable.
‘Look out!’ Jack said, grabbing Amy’s arm as she was just about to step off the pavement.
Amy stepped back. She was so worried about Misty that for a second she hadn’t looked and not looking in the blackout could be fatal. Her teacher at school, Mr Dumphrey, was always warning them about this.
‘Best thing you can do in a blackout is stay indoors,’ he’d said.
But Amy and Jack couldn’t do that, not tonight, not when Misty had gone missing. Amy couldn’t bear to think of her out there in the dark, lost and afraid.
‘If only Misty was a cat,’ she said as she half ran to keep up with Jack’s longer stride.
‘What? Why?’ said Jack, glancing over at his sister, but not breaking step.
‘She’d be used to going out at night then … And everyone knows cats have good eyesight.’
A cat would be unlikely to get run over by a car, but Amy wasn’t so sure about Misty.
They were almost at Wood Green Underground Station.
‘She must be terrified,’ Jack said, biting at his thumbnail as they passed the station clock.
Amy had a horrible, stomach-churning feeling of guilt that somehow it was her fault. She’d promised Jack she’d look after Misty while he was gone, and he hadn’t even left yet and already his dog was lost.
‘Misty … Misty …!’ she called out into the blackness.
At least there weren’t regulations against making a sound in the blackout, or not yet anyway.
A woman came out of the station and almost bumped into Amy.
‘Oops, sorry, dearie − didn’t see you there,’ she said.
That was the problem. The blackout meant it was hard enough to see a person when they were almost on top of you. How on earth were they going to find a lost dog?
A man, wearing an Air Raid Precautions warden’s uniform and tin hat, held up his hooded torch and they stopped as he peered at them.
‘Who’s Misty?’ the ARP warden asked them.
‘Our dog,’ Jack told the man. ‘She got frightened by the bombs and ran away.’
‘She’s pregnant,’ added Amy. ‘We’ve been looking everywhere for her. Have you seen her?’
‘Dog you say? Who’d let a dog go out by itself on a night like this?’
Amy thought the ARP warden made it sound like Misty had gone waltzing off for a night on the town with some of her dog friends. Didn’t he see how serious it was?
‘I know someone who might be able to help you,’ the warden said quickly when he saw the desperate looks on their faces. ‘He’ll see you right if anyone can, if he’s not out looking for lost animals himself tonight. Works for NARPAC …’
‘What’s NARPAC?’ Amy asked him.
‘The animal side of my lot – stands for National Air Raid Precautions Animals Committee.’
‘Oh.’ Amy was glad they had wardens out there looking after animals too.
‘It’s made up of regulars from all the different animal welfare organizations, as well as a whole host of volunteers,’ he told them.
‘Like the RSPCA?’ Amy asked. They’d collected money for the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals at school.
‘Yes,’ the warden said, ticking the organizations off on his fingers. ‘And the PDSA.’
‘People’s Dispensary for Sick Animals?’
‘Lots of different groups came together to make NARPAC.’
And with that he set off into the darkness.
As night fell and the enforced blackout began, Misty padded along the terribly dark streets with her head down. Her strong sense of smell told her whenever anyone was close by, but a sudden jarring contraction pain deep in her tummy distracted her. She didn’t have enough warning when the car with the blacked-out headlights hurtled towards her.
It bore down on her like some monstrous roaring beast and for a moment she just stood there. At the last second she jumped out of the way and ran for the pavement. But she wasn’t quite quick enough and the car caught her rear end, spinning her around. She yelped in agony as she stumbled away from the beast that had now squealed to a stop.
‘Hello, are you all right? Can’t see a thing in this blasted blackout,’ a voice called into the darkness.
Misty crouched low and a few seconds later the road creature rumbled and roared away. But there were others making the same sounds. She’d heard the noise before of course, but hadn’t paid attention to it. That was befo
re she knew these roaring creatures could also bring pain.
Her hind right leg and her back and belly hurt. She was tired, so very tired, and wanted to go home. But she’d come too far and didn’t know the way back. The sharp pain in her tummy came again making her whimper.
Just at that moment she smelt a new smell. A smell that made her hackles rise and her body tremble. Then a growl came from the darkness in front of her. A dog, taller than Misty, thin but wiry with muscle and strong, appeared on the path in front of her, baring its teeth and slavering. It looked wild and unkempt and, unlike Misty, wore no collar. It let out another low, menacing growl.
Thinking of her puppies, Misty turned and ran, her tail between her legs in terror. In spite of the pain she was in, adrenalin from fear drove her onwards. But she could hear the other dog chasing her. She’d never been in a fight, never been so much as confronted by another dog before.
It had almost caught her, and was so close Misty could smell its foul breath, when the ear-splitting crash of a bomb stopped them both and everyone around them.
The other dog turned and ran across the road in blind panic. Misty crawled into the nearest hiding place, a narrow tunnel at the back of Wood Green Underground Station. She cowered inside the tunnel, her tongue lolling out as she panted. If the slavering dog came back now, she would have no chance of escape.
But it didn’t come back and, as the minutes on the station clock on the wall ticked by and the all-clear siren sounded, Misty’s panting finally slowed. For the time being she was safe. Exhausted, she slept a little, only to be woken by another piercing pain deep inside her that made her yelp and then whine in misery as it increased. Misty knew it was time for her puppies to be born.
She slowly crawled deeper and deeper into the access tunnel and then froze in fear. She wasn’t alone. A pair of luminous gold eyes stared straight at her.
Chapter 3
The ARP warden led Jack and Amy briskly down the road, turned a corner and then another before stopping in front of a house at the end of a terrace. The house was in total darkness, as were all the others in the street, because of the blackout.
‘I think this is it, number thirty-nine,’ he said, barely able to see the numbers in the darkness.
When the knock came, Mrs Ward put down her chopping knife, wiped her hands on her apron and headed for the front door. She didn’t turn on any lights because of the blackout and so the floral papered hallway was in darkness. She opened the door to find Jack, Amy and Len, the local ARP warden, standing there. Len tipped his tin hat to her.
‘Hello, Len,’ she said, recognizing him. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘We’ve lost our dog,’ Amy said immediately.
‘Oh, you poor dears, you must be so worried. Come on in. My husband should be back soon. He’s taken Michael and Ellie with him to Shoreham Road to see if they can help – the whole street has been badly hit.’ A look of worry passed across Mrs Ward’s face, but she quickly shook her head, smiled and held the door open for them.
Jack and Amy didn’t know who Michael or Ellie were, but the lady seemed kind and so they went into the house. The first thing Amy noticed was that it smelt like a pet shop. There was even a bale of hay by the front door.
‘Coming in for a cup of tea, Len?’ Mrs Ward asked the ARP warden. But he shook his head.
‘Got to be getting back, but I’ll take you up on that offer next time I’m in the area.’
‘Any time, Len,’ said Mrs Ward, and she closed the door and led Jack and Amy inside.
Amy had never seen so many pets all together in one room before. There was a miniature poodle, a black and brown King Charles spaniel and a German shepherd lying on a rug by the hearth. She counted at least ten cats, all of different breeds, sitting on shelves and chairs and the window sill. There were bird cages with canaries and budgies in them and even two guinea pigs!
‘You’ve got tons of pets,’ Amy said with admiration.
‘There’re chickens and goats and rabbits outside in the garden,’ Mrs Ward told her.
‘Wow! You’re so lucky,’ said Amy. She sank down on to the sofa that Mrs Ward indicated and Jack sat down next to her. The sofa even had cushions with dogs and cats embroidered on them.
‘Oh, they aren’t all our pets, dear.’ Mrs Ward smiled. ‘They’re from all over. It’s on account of my husband’s work with NARPAC. We’ve got used to people asking if we can take in a pet they can’t look after any more. The animal-rescue centres are so overcrowded, you see, and I can’t bear to turn them away. But we really don’t have any more space – and they all have to be fed!’
An elderly yellow Labrador came over to them, thick tail wagging. Amy stroked her.
‘She’s our official meeter and greeter, aren’t you, Heggerty?’ Mrs Ward said, smiling fondly at the dog.
Heggerty slowly climbed up on to the sofa and lay down between Jack and Amy.
‘Don’t mind her,’ said Mrs Ward as the dog made herself comfortable.
Meanwhile Mr Ward drove the NARPAC ambulance down the blacked-out streets towards the Shoreham Road bomb site.
Beside him sat seventeen-year-old volunteer Ellie Jones. She had her Airedale terrier Grace with her.
It was the first ‘real’ mission red-headed Ellie had done, although they’d had lots of dummy runs. As soon as the all-clear sounded, she’d raced out of the house. The Wards lived in the next street and Mr Ward already had the NARPAC ambulance engine running when she and Grace arrived. Mr Ward raised an eyebrow when he saw Ellie’s dog was with her.
‘She might be able to help,’ said Ellie hopefully. ‘Airedales were used as rescue dogs in the last war, and I’ve been training her up.’
Grace hopped into the ambulance after Ellie and settled at her feet.
‘Hello,’ Michael said from the back of the ambulance. He had Sky, the family’s collie, with him.
Mr Ward sighed and drove off. He had far more passengers with him than he’d intended. Ellie was expected, but not her dog, and he’d had no intention of taking his thirteen-year-old son with him; Michael had been sitting in the back of the ambulance when he came out. Nor had he intended taking their black-and-white collie, Sky, but she’d raced out of the house and jumped into the animal ambulance as soon as Michael had opened the door.
‘It’s beautiful in an awful sort of way,’ Ellie said as she looked out of the window up at the sky. It had an orange glow from all the fires that were burning.
Mr Ward steered the ambulance towards Shoreham Road. The street had taken a direct hit and many houses had been badly damaged.
Their job was to try and find any pets that had survived and were now trapped in the bombed-out houses. But, as he drove, Mr Ward was all too aware that even if an animal survived the explosion the sheer terror of the experience might well prove fatal, especially for the smaller animals like guinea pigs and birds.
People had been told to put up notices on their front gates or doors saying how many people or pets were inside. But the notices were often blasted away by the bombs.
The local ARP warden came hurrying over as soon as Mr Ward pulled up.
‘The owner of seventy-three’s been taken to North Middlesex Hospital,’ she said. ‘But he said his poodle was upstairs under the bed.’
Number 73 had taken a direct hit and now the house looked more like a doll’s house with the front taken off. It had set fire to the two houses either side of it.
Ellie, Michael and Mr Ward began to cough at the smoke and dust as soon as they climbed out of the ambulance. Ellie’s green eyes stung and watered. Behind them Sky sneezed.
‘Here, these should help,’ said the ARP
warden and she gave Ellie, Michael and Mr Ward damp rags to cover their faces.
All around them was chaos, with people yelling and a constant jangling as fire engines and ambulances arrived and left.
‘Seventy-five and seventy-one have pets too,’ the ARP warden shouted over the noise in the street. ‘And seventy-five’s got a cat called Night, but he wasn’t sure if the cat was in the house or not when the bomb went off,’ she added, checking her book. ‘We’ve secured both houses so it should be OK to check them, but tread carefully.’
‘I’ll take seventy-five,’ said Ellie, and she and Grace headed off.
‘Sky and I will check in seventy-one,’ Michael said.
Mr Ward didn’t want him to, but he didn’t want Michael coming into number 73 either. The house looked like it was only managing to stay up on a wing and a prayer. At least the ARP warden had given numbers 71 and 75 the OK.
‘Mind your backs!’ a fireman called out to them as he unravelled a hose.
Michael and Sky headed towards 71.
‘I’ll keep an eye on them,’ said the ARP warden, and she set off after the boy and dog.
‘Be careful,’ Mr Ward called out.
All Michael had with him was a dimly lit torch and inside the house it was very dark. If a frightened animal were hiding and stayed hidden, there was little hope of it being found until it was light.
The darkness wasn’t a problem for Sky however. Tail wagging, she set off, going from room to room.
‘What is it, Sky? What is it?’ Michael encouraged her as she stopped in what had once been the kitchen, but was now almost unrecognizable as such. Sky scratched at the rubble, whined and then barked. Michael and the ARP warden helped Sky while taking care not to move too much debris too quickly.
Sky scrabbled at the rubble and whined some more and, just as Michael thought he heard a faint sound, Sky’s head went into the space they’d made and came out holding a tiny mewling kitten in her mouth.
‘Good girl, Sky, good girl,’ Michael said.