‘There was another funny bit on the nine o’clock this morning,’ she went on. ‘Very queer. I didn’t know what to make of it. They were asking for people owning boats to come forward. At once, they said. Without delay. The Admiralty, I think. They made it sound ever so important. Now, why would they ask a thing like that?’
He swung round. ‘Did they say what kind?’
‘I don’t remember. Just boats, you know. Private ones, I suppose. I wasn’t really listening properly, but I thought it was rather odd. It couldn’t have anything to do with the war, could it?’
He came back down the stairs. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Honeywell, but I have to go out again now. I shan’t be in for supper.’
‘But what about the haddock …’
‘I’m sorry … perhaps you’d like to eat it.’
‘Well, really! After all the trouble I went to.’
‘They want every boat over thirty feet they can lay their hands on, Lizzie. That’s what I found out. You realize what it means? Our army over there must be in real trouble and they’re going to try and bring them back before the Germans reach them. They’re trapped and the only way out is the sea. That’s why the Navy want all the boats they can muster. To go and rescue the army, or as many as they can before the Germans capture them. There must be thousands of men over there. And Guy must be there, somewhere, Lizzie – caught in the trap, too.’
Matt paused for breath. She looked at him in horror. ‘Do you really believe it can be as bad as that, Matt? The BBC just said some troops have been brought back because they weren’t engaged in fighting, that’s all. It didn’t sound very serious and there’s been nothing in the papers.’
‘It’s been censored, that’s why. They don’t want to cause a panic.’ He walked about the attic studio. ‘My God, if we lose almost our entire army and all their equipment, we wouldn’t stand a chance if the Germans tried to invade England.’ He turned to face her. ‘A lot of the boats are assembling at Sheerness at the mouth of the Thames. I’m going to take the Rose there, Lizzie, and hand her over to the Navy. That’s what I wanted to tell you.’
‘But she’s too small to be much use. You said over thirty feet. She’s only fourteen.’
‘She could carry six or seven men – maybe even more. And she’s a fishing boat. Made for the sea. She can do something to help.’ He paused. ‘So can I, Lizzie.’
‘But could you handle her alone?’
He flushed. ‘I’ll have a damn good try.’
‘The tides are awful and all those sandbanks and currents … Even Guy used to say how tricky it was.’
‘Even Guy … You don’t believe I could ever do anything as well as Guy, do you, Lizzie?’
‘That’s not true, Matt. But I’m afraid for you. I don’t want anything to happen to you. They wouldn’t want you to go over to France, would they?’
‘Not as far as I know. They just want them delivered to Sheerness.’
‘Let me come with you, Matt. I could help.’
He shook his head. ‘No, Lizzie.’
‘It’s my chance to do something, too.’
‘I can’t take you. Imagine what your parents would say.’
‘I won’t tell them. I’ll say I’m going to stay with a schoolfriend, or something. You’re not telling your mother, are you?’
‘Lord, no.’
‘Well, let me come and help you get Rose into the water, at least. That’s only fair. Please, Matt.’
He sighed. ‘OK. But that’s all.’
The Dorniers droned by overhead, escorted by a pack of Messerschmitts. ‘They’re heading towards Calais,’ Guy said. ‘Probably bombing the hell out of it.’ He watched the bombers disappearing into the distance, wondering, yet again, what to do. Calais was the nearest port, and they had to hope that it was still operating. It was the best hope for Anna. The best for himself, come to that. There seemed no chance of joining up with the rest of the squadron – they’d be back in England by now, for sure. The quicker he got home, the quicker he could get back into a Hurricane; seeing the Dorniers blithely swanning past had made him boil with frustration. He wished to God he knew exactly where the Germans were now but, wherever they were, it was getting too damn close for comfort and the main road too dangerous. Refugees were still straggling south, and where there were refugees there could be 109s and Stukas diving suddenly out of the skies.
He tried to remember the geography of the region and decided that there had to be a way across country, westwards, to Calais – not so direct, but safer. The next left turn looked promising and they meandered for several miles along a narrow and dusty lane through a pleasant region of farmland and orchards and without a sign of any combat. Progress was slow because the chain on the stolen bike kept coming off and they had to keep stopping while he put it back on. Even so, Guy began to feel more confident. After several miles they came to another road – well-surfaced but minor, and deserted. So far as he could tell it must be heading roughly in the direction of Calais. He decided to risk it.
They were both soaked in sweat and suffering from thirst. A small hamlet lay ahead, no more than three or four houses lining the road, but one of them turned out to be a shop. The shabby-looking window displayed a pyramid of tins with labels so faded they were almost unreadable. Anna went inside and came out empty-handed. ‘There is nobody there, Guy. Only a dog chained up.’
He looked at the other houses. There was no sign of life. ‘I think this whole place is deserted. They’ve all gone.’
‘Then we can take what we need.’ He propped his bike beside hers against the window and followed her inside the shop. The dog, a half-starved small brown mongrel, was crouched miserably in a dark corner in a kitchen at the back, chained to a table leg, an empty, overturned bowl beside it. It drew back under the table, trembling as they approached. ‘Better not touch him,’ Guy said. ‘He looks terrified, poor chap.’ They poked about among dusty bottles in the shop and found some mineral water to quench their thirst, gulping it straight from the bottle and then pouring some into the bowl for the dog. It crawled forward from under the table and gulped it down frantically. Anna gave him some more. ‘He is probably very hungry too.’ She went through a row of tins on a shelf behind the counter. ‘We can give him beef stew. He will like that. And we can take what we like too. Beans, onion soup, herrings …’
‘How about a tin-opener?’
‘I will find one.’
They opened a tin of beef stew for the dog and were watching him wolf it down when they heard a curious rumbling sound, like distant thunder. At first Guy thought it was enemy bombers again and then, as he listened harder, he knew it was not: it was tanks. British tanks surely, this far north? Withdrawing to St Omer, probably, like the sergeant he had spoken with had said. The thunder grew louder and louder and the floor beneath their feet began to shake. No, not British, he thought, grimly. Far too many of them. He motioned quickly to Anna to get down below the level of the shop window as the leading tank rolled into view, painted dark grey, a black cross on white on the side and its number in deep yellow. It was followed by a long column of more tanks and armoured cars carrying helmeted German troops, grinding and roaring past deafeningly within feet of them. So many that it was nearly an hour before the last one had gone by and it was quiet again.
‘My God, Guy … what are we going to do?’
He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Follow them at a safe distance for the moment and hope that the British and French will stop them at some point.’
‘Stop all those? How can they?’
‘There’ll be anti-tank guns set up ahead – bound to be. The British are at St Omer and that can’t be more than about fifteen miles from here. They’ll do everything they can to keep them from reaching Calais.’ He wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘It looks like they’re miles ahead of their infantry. We’ll get round them as soon as we can.’
‘Supposing there are more tanks coming along behind?’
‘We’ll be a
ble to hear them from a long way off. Come on, let’s get moving.’
They took some tins of food and bottles of water with them, as well as the tin-opener.
‘What shall we do about the poor dog, Guy?’
He fingered his revolver. ‘The kindest thing would be to shoot the wretched thing.’
‘No, Guy. I will not let you do that.’
‘Well, we can’t leave it chained up to starve to death. And there’s nobody to look after it.’
‘But at least we could let it go free.’
The mongrel cringed as Guy undid the chain. He patted it gently. ‘You’ve had a rotten time, haven’t you, old fellow? Probably never had a kind word in your life.’
The dog followed them out of the shop and down the road. Guy shooed it back and it stopped, ears down, tail drooping, looking sadly after them. They followed in the long wake of dust left by the Panzers.
Tideways was in darkness. They had walked all the way from the station in fading light, climbed over the paddock gate and crunched up the gravel drive towards the house. Matt unlocked the front door and groped for the hall light switch which clicked uselessly. ‘Mother must have turned the mains off,’ he told Lizzie. He made his way to the kitchen where he found a box of matches and then some candles. Lizzie had waited in the hall and they toured the downstairs rooms by candlelight. The house was deadly silent, furniture shrouded under white dust-sheets, curtains drawn. No flowers, no music, no voices – the life gone from it. He went to find the mains switch by the back door and turned on the lights in the kitchen where the blackout had been left in place at the windows. ‘I’ll take a look in the larder and see if there’s anything for us to eat.’ He found some tins of food and they opened one of sardines and some baked beans and heated them up in saucepans on the gas stove. ‘Not much like Mrs Woodgate’s cooking, I’m afraid.’ They ate, sitting at the kitchen table. ‘We can’t do anything about the Rose until morning. I’ll get a few provisions together tonight – water and a bit of food, and so on – just in case I need them.’
‘How about some hot soup, Matt? There were some tins of tomato in the larder and we could put it in a Thermos – if we can find one.’
‘There’ll be one in the pantry cupboard. I’ll get started at first light, around four-thirty. It’ll be a bit of a sweat to get her down the slipway into the water.’
‘I’ll help you.’
‘Thanks, Lizzie.’ He smiled at her. ‘I really couldn’t have managed without you, you know.’
‘I do wish you’d let me come too.’
‘I can’t, sorry.’
‘Why not?’
‘You wouldn’t have Guy to take care of you – only me. Remember what happened with Bean Goose.’
‘That was years ago.’
He looked down at the table, running a finger of his good left hand backwards and forwards across the checked oilcloth. ‘I’ll let you into a secret, Lizzie. Something I’ve never told a living soul because I’m so ashamed of it. I’m scared stiff of the sea. I always have been. I absolutely hate it. It terrifies me. That’s why I’m so rotten at sailing and that’s why I couldn’t possibly let you come with me. Now what do you say?’
‘That it’s incredibly brave of you to do this. The sea scares me too, so I know a bit of how you must feel.’
He drew squares on the oilcloth. ‘Well, I’m not even sure I’ll have the guts to go when it actually comes to it. I’ll probably get as far as the mouth of the river and turn back, like a coward. But I’ve got to try.’
‘You’ll do it, Matt. I know you will.’
She reached across to touch his right arm which was resting on the table, the elbow stump with its finger and thumb protruding from the sleeve of his jersey. He stiffened and pulled down the sleeve quickly. ‘Sorry, I forgot. It’s a pretty revolting sight.’
‘No, it’s not. You never used to hide it all the time, Matt.’
‘It didn’t seem to matter so much,’ he mumbled. ‘Now, it does rather.’ He stood up abruptly and started to clear away the plates.
They washed up and packed a small cardboard box with two tins of sardines, a packet of biscuits, a bottle of fizzy lemonade. Lizzie found a block of dark cooking chocolate and put that in too. ‘We’ll do the soup in the morning. And we mustn’t forget the water.’
Matt went and fetched a chart of the Thames estuary from his father’s study and spread it out on the kitchen table, tracing a course with his left hand. ‘I’ll go down the river and out as far as the Buxey buoy and then across the top of Foulness Sand to the North East Maplin marker. I can follow the buoys all down the south side of Maplin Sands to the Shoeburyness buoy and go straight across from there to Sheerness.’
‘How long do you think you’ll take?’
‘Depends. About six hours, if I get it right. Better get some sleep, I suppose.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Not sure if the beds’ll be made up.’
‘Doesn’t matter.’
He switched on lights on their way upstairs through the silent house and stopped outside the spare-room door. ‘This is you, then. See you in the morning.’
She said, ‘Just a moment, Matt. I’ve got a secret to tell you too.’
‘What is it?’
‘I love you.’
He looked incredulous. ‘Wait a minute. You love me? Are you joking or something?’
‘No.’
‘But I always thought it was Guy …’
‘And I always thought it was Anna with you.’
‘Anna? Good lord, no! I’ve always liked her an awful lot – but that’s quite different, isn’t it?’ He stared at her. ‘I’ve loved you for ages, Lizzie. Years, really.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘I didn’t think you’d want to hear it.’
‘Because of Guy?’
‘I don’t exactly measure up to him, do I? And because of the way I am.’
‘You mean your arm? Is that what you’re talking about?’
‘Well, yes. It’s enough to put anyone off, isn’t it?’ For answer, she took hold of the misshapen fingers firmly and kissed them each in turn. He swallowed hard.
‘Oh, Lizzie …’
He put his other arm around her.
‘The dog is still following us, Guy.’
He turned round and saw it slinking along behind them at a safe distance. It stopped and stood stock-still, one paw raised warily, ready to run. The poor thing was probably expecting them to chuck stones. The light was fading fast but he wanted to press on for as long as they could – until they could no longer see their way. The evening sky ahead glowed bright crimson like a tropical sunset and he realized it must be from fires in Calais. This time there was no convenient barn and when they eventually stopped, the only shelter was in the lee of a hedge. Guy spread his greatcoat for Anna and they opened a tin of herrings and ate them with their fingers. ‘Just like a picnic,’ she said. ‘Do you remember our picnics, Guy?’
‘Of course I do.’
‘I teased you about the flies. I did it to make you cross.’
‘Then you were very successful.’
‘I am sorry now.’
He smiled. ‘I expect I asked for it.’
‘The dog is here. I saw his eyes shining in the torchlight. We should give him some more food.’
‘No, we shouldn’t. He’ll just be a damn nuisance.’ They did, of course, opening a tin of the beef stew and emptying it out. The dog slunk forward and gulped down the lot. ‘We’ll never get rid of him now.’
‘Then he can come with us – to England.’
Not much chance of any of us getting there, he thought, but he didn’t say so. He stayed awake, on guard, while Anna slept wrapped in his RAF greatcoat. The dog lay down at a respectful distance. As dawn came they were on the road once more. And, at that same moment, the Rose of England, red sails hoisted, was turning her bows downstream towards the sea.
The old man nods to himself. ‘We didn’t know a thing about the tr
ue situation back in England. There was nothing in newspapers or on the wireless. They kept it quiet till they had to say something. First clue we had was when they announced a Day of Prayer – that would have been the Sunday when the evacuation started. The Archbishop of Canterbury told us to pray for our soldiers in dire peril in France. Molly said to me, “What on earth’s he talking about – dire peril?” We’d thought everything was all right and that the Germans were being driven back. They kept it from us.’ He sucks at the dead pipe for a moment. ‘When we did find out it was a nasty shock. You should’ve seen the troops arriving back. Those men were dead on their feet. Filthy dirty, soaking wet, looking like a lot of scarecrows – but they were home, and that’s what mattered. We treated them like heroes – same as if they’d won a big battle, not lost it. Well, there was no point in sitting moaning. We had to get on with the war. Like Churchill said, we had to fight on, whatever the cost. Mind you, I don’t think any of us realized what it was going to take or how long it was going to last.’ He reaches for his tobacco pouch and starts to refill the pipe. ‘Just as well we didn’t.’
Chapter Sixteen
By the time the necessary repairs had been completed to Otto’s tank, he knew that they must have been left a long way behind the main column. Nevertheless, he delayed further during the hours of darkness to give his three-man crew the chance to rest. For the past twelve days there had been little time for sleep and they all were at the point of exhaustion. During the day, the heat down inside the tank had been ferocious and even standing in the turret, in the fresh air, he had experienced great difficulty himself in keeping awake. After even an hour or two of sleep, however, he felt refreshed and alert again.
The tank rolled on through open countryside: fields stretching away into the distance and few trees or undulations to give any cover to the enemy. From time to time, though, he checked through his glasses, sweeping the terrain carefully. The Allies’ front line lay approximately twenty miles to his east – according to his most recent information. However, in war it was wise not to take anything for certain.
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