Wartime at Liberty's

by Fiona Ford

  With that Flo broke down and Celia wrapped her arms around her.

  ‘Enough now, Flo. You’ve suffered enough,’ Celia whispered.

  With all her might, Flo clung to her new friend, enjoying the comfort Celia’s embrace offered. She wasn’t sure how long the two of them stood there, holding each other like that, but Flo did know that when they parted she felt much better than she had done for weeks.

  Flo was just about to ask what they were doing that lunchtime when the sound of a siren could be heard in the distance.

  ‘Did you hear that?’

  Celia looked up and paused for a moment. ‘It’s just before half past twelve; it’s the lunch bell.’

  Flo shrugged, thinking nothing of it, until the wail came again. Louder and more urgent this time.

  ‘That doesn’t sound like a lunch bell,’ Flo insisted.

  Celia’s eyes widened in alarm. ‘It isn’t. It’s the air-raid siren. Looks like the bloody Jerries are at it again.’ With that Celia grabbed Flo’s hand and together they made for the door, the wail becoming louder and more insistent.

  ‘Where’s your shelter?’ Flo asked immediately.

  ‘Second floor. It’s a bricked-up classroom,’ Celia said. ‘But we need to get the children. They’ll be in the dining hall. Some may even be outside.’

  Instinctively Flo followed Celia out to the hall. There was no mistaking the sound of the tearing, ear-piercing wail now, and it chilled her to the core.

  Releasing her hand from Celia’s warm grasp she looked around at the children. The air was ripe with fear as they looked out of the windows at the grey sky. Following their gaze, Flo immediately spotted what had caught their attention. A German plane was flying perilously low, swooping and diving as it circled the school. Flo swallowed the bile rising in her throat; she knew she had to get the children and herself to safety. The single-engine bomber with the ominous black cross of the Luftwaffe was now so close you could see the pilot, who seemed to be waving at the children, and incredibly some were waving back.

  Flo felt a surge of fury pulse within her as she made out the pilot’s face. How dare he? Didn’t he have children? A wife? A family?

  ‘Into the shelter now,’ she called out authoritatively.

  Immediately the children followed Flo’s orders and together they raced through the corridors and up the stairs.

  ‘First door on the left!’ one of the children cried.

  Locating the door, Flo pushed it open and saw a handful of children had already taken shelter. Closing the door once the last child was inside, she threw herself on to the bench and exhaled, only to realise that she hadn’t seen Celia for some time.

  ‘Has anyone seen Mrs Hallam?’ she asked urgently.

  ‘She was just going into the playground, miss,’ Stan piped up. ‘Said she’d be up in a minute.’

  ‘All right.’ Flo drummed her fingers against the edge of the wooden bench. The room was dark, and filled with a heady mix of terror and desperation. Rows of white eyes were fixed on her and she could hear some of the children crying, while others didn’t seem worried at all as they continued to eat their sandwiches.

  Flo didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She was about to get up and comfort those who were distressed when the ear-piercing sound of a whistle made her freeze. As the whistling grew louder Flo’s pulse beat faster and she braced herself for what was undoubtedly to come next.

  ‘Everyone down,’ she bellowed, throwing herself on top of Stan and another child.

  Just then, Celia and another army of children flew into the room and Flo had never been so grateful to see anyone. They were all just in the nick of time as the bomb she’d heard a split second earlier rocketed to the ground. Debris and rubble immediately fell around them, a wooden lintel striking Flo neatly on the back of the neck, and sending clouds of dust into the air that filled her lungs with thick, dry powder. Somehow the lintel had managed to topple down next to her, and as she listened to the sounds of the children choking, she managed to find two hankies in her pocket. Giving one to Stan and another child to breathe through, Flo used the sleeve of her cardigan to filter as much dust as she could.

  The children were crying, Flo noticed, but they didn’t seem panic-stricken. Instead they were trying to make sense of what had happened. These little ghosts who had looked like normal schoolchildren just seconds earlier now resembled ghouls of the night, they were covered in so much dust. Getting to her feet, along with Celia, Flo smiled reassuringly at them as she tried to recall the training she had received during Rose’s first-aid nights. Stay calm; prioritise the most life-threatening conditions. Casting an eye across the kids, fear lurched in Flo’s heart as she peered through the large smoking hole and down into the lunch hall directly below. The scene made her want to cry out with horror at the cruelty.

  Clouds of smoke and fire distorted her view, but she could just make out the tiny forms of lifeless and injured children lying amongst the wreckage. The sound of those little mites crying out for their mothers left Flo feeling furious and desperate to help.

  Glancing across at Celia, Flo saw tears were streaming down the older woman’s face too, but her chin was high as she gave a sharp nod. Together they would do whatever it took to save as many lives as they possibly could.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The stench of fire and of charred flesh filled Flo’s nostrils. She had to cover her mouth with her hand to keep from gagging as she tried to move, the smell was so pungent.

  Through the hole in the floor, she could see some of the older surviving children dusting themselves down and moving cautiously, doing what they could to help others. Shouts of ‘What can I do, miss?’ echoed through the noise and chaos and Flo was astonished to see these children coming together to help with the rescue effort.

  Surely, though, there ought to be more help than these surviving children? Flo looked around, as if expecting an ambulance or fire crew to miraculously turn up, but there was nobody. She turned to Celia. ‘Are you all right?’

  Celia nodded. ‘Are you, sweetheart?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Flo said, doing her best to ignore the thumping headache from where the lintel had struck. ‘Where shall we start?’

  ‘Let’s clear what we can here,’ Celia replied. ‘We can try and treat the wounded and drag the others to safety as best we can.’

  Flo nodded but, as she did so, pointed at the blood that streamed from Celia’s forehead. ‘Are you sure you’re all right? You’re bleeding.’

  Celia touched her forehead; her grey hair was plastered to the blood. ‘I’m fine. Just a scratch. Come on, it’s up to us until the rescue teams get here.’

  Flo didn’t need to be told twice. Up close the devastation was even worse than she could have predicted. There was rubble everywhere, and bricks and debris continued to fall perilously to the floor. The children who had survived were working marvels. The older ones were pulling the injured to safety, while others were ripping up their own clothes to make bandages or tourniquets to stem bleeding.

  Watching Celia help one small girl work herself free from the bricks that were trapping her leg, she frowned with concern. The older woman seemed to be struggling. Even from this distance Flo could tell that her breath was laboured and blood was continuing to stream down her forehead.

  By the time help had arrived Flo felt physically and mentally exhausted, and her hands and legs were cut to ribbons. She had seen to cuts, bruises and broken bones, patching up as many children as possible. But it was the bodies of lifeless children, being cleared by others of similar age, that broke her heart. Pausing to take a breath, her nostrils singed with smoke, Flo glanced around. Everywhere was chaos, and even though Celia, herself and the handful of teachers were all working tirelessly it felt as if they were never going to get anywhere. Then Flo saw what resembled an avalanche of rescue workers arrive like a beacon of light. Soldiers home on leave, passing volunteers and fire crews were helping to clear the area and Flo felt relief
flood through her.

  Getting to her feet to greet the rescue workers, she was astonished to see a familiar face.

  ‘Flo! Are you all right?’ Henry said, carefully picking his way through the carnage. ‘I came as soon as I heard what had happened.’

  At the sight of her old friend, Flo fell into his arms. ‘I’m fine. But there’s not enough help, and so many of the children are injured.’

  Henry nodded, his face contorted into despair as he took in the scenes of devastation. ‘I’ve told Stan to go home and ask our neighbour Mrs Hope to look after him until I get back. He said he was fine after you threw yourself on top of him, but I don’t want him taking any chances and this air raid is all anyone in the community can talk about.’

  Flo smiled. ‘He’s been helping the younger ones. Doing his best to cheer them up while they were in pain.’

  Henry shot her a sympathetic glance. ‘It could have been so different if you hadn’t looked after him as you did. I shall never forget it.’

  Flo waved his gratitude away. ‘I did nothing. Truly, look around you, there’s still so many we have to help.’

  ‘Then we’d better get on with it.’

  Together, Flo and Henry worked with the rescue teams, never faltering or giving up hope of saving life. As she continued to work into the evening, all thoughts of Liberty’s gone from her mind, it seemed to Flo that the whole of South London had descended upon the school to help their community when they needed it most. News had spread fast and the children’s loved ones had arrived, digging at the debris with their bare hands, desperately searching for lost ones, ignoring their own safely as the rubble continued to fall.

  At some point, Flo became aware that the WVS had arrived and were busy making tea and tending to the sick in the church hall across the road from the school. Someone handed Flo a cup and she gulped at it gratefully. Eventually, when the worst of the debris and rubble was cleared, Flo was led away by one of the rescue workers who told her under no uncertain terms that she had done enough.

  Flo was taken to a bench outside the school and handed yet another cup of tea. Hands wrapped around the mug, she suddenly became aware of her aching bones and throbbing head. Looking around she realised the scene looked different now. The fires and smoke had begun to die out and there was a sense of order, if such a thing was possible, to the devastation.

  As Flo sipped her tea she saw Henry towering over Celia by one of the ambulances. She was clearly struggling to breathe and she looked even more shattered than Flo felt. Judging by the look on Henry’s face it seemed that he was becoming upset about something. Getting to her feet, Flo threaded her way over to them through the volunteers still working. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked.

  Henry turned and gave her a sheepish grin. ‘Everything’s fine. I’m just trying to persuade Celia to go to the hospital. She’s tired, the gash on her forehead looks nasty and she won’t stop coughing.’

  ‘And I’ve told you I’m fine,’ Celia said firmly, before erupting into a coughing fit.

  Flo winced. It sounded awful. ‘I think Henry’s right. We’ll both go, get ourselves looked at. There’s no harm.’

  ‘Except it’s a waste of time, that’s all,’ Celia growled as she continued to cough.

  At that moment a female first-aider approached them and frowned. ‘You, young lady,’ she said, pointing to Celia, ‘are going to hospital. You want that cough looked at. And as for you two’ – she gestured towards Flo and Mr Masters – ‘you’ll both need to be examined by me before anyone goes anywhere.’

  There was something about the woman’s tone that brooked no argument. Within a few minutes she and Henry were pronounced fine while Celia was led into the back of a waiting ambulance.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’ she demanded.

  ‘Lewisham Hospital,’ the female first-aider replied. ‘Not far. Your friends can come along and see how you are.’

  ‘We’ll be right behind you,’ Flo promised.

  As the ambulance doors banged shut, Flo turned to Henry. ‘We need to find a bus. How long will it take to get to the hospital?’

  ‘Not long.’ He frowned. ‘But are you sure you want to go charging off there? You need some food? Rest?’

  ‘I need to be with Celia,’ Flo insisted. ‘She deserves to have someone with her and I want to be that person.’

  ‘All right,’ he said, leading the way to the bus stop around the corner.

  Within minutes a bus appeared, and as they took a seat and handed the clippie their money, Flo took a moment to gather her thoughts.

  ‘Wait a minute!’ she cried in alarm. ‘Where’s Stan?’

  ‘He’s being cared for by Dot. Everyone heard about what happened and wanted to help. Dot appeared on my doorstep offering her services and Alice and Mary helped out the ladies at the WVS making tea. Didn’t you see them?’

  Flo shook her head. She had been so busy tending to the children she hadn’t registered anyone else’s presence.

  At that moment the bus pulled up outside the hospital and together she and Henry walked towards the entrance. Outside, Flo inhaled great big lungfuls of fresh air, grateful for the change in atmosphere after so much smoke.

  ‘Are you ready?’

  Flo nodded and together they walked inside. Unsurprisingly, given the events at the school, the place was a hive of activity as nurses and doctors rushed through corridors coping with the emergency.

  Gingerly, Flo made her way towards an officious-looking nurse. ‘Can you tell me where Celia Hallam is please? She was brought in by ambulance earlier.’

  The nurse looked down at her notes, just as a doctor approached looking stern.

  ‘Are you relatives?’ he asked, taking the clipboard from the nurse’s hand.

  ‘Yes,’ Henry lied. ‘This is her cousin, and I’m her husband. We were all together working at the school to try and clear the wreckage and save the children.’

  The doctor’s expression changed and he looked fondly at the pair. ‘You must be exhausted.’

  ‘We’re all right,’ Flo said with a conviction she did not feel. ‘How is Mrs Hallam?’

  There was a pause and in that moment Flo felt a sickening sense of dread.

  ‘I’m afraid she has sustained a very serious head injury, but that’s not her biggest problem,’ the doctor explained, his face grave once more. ‘She has inhaled a great deal of smoke, possibly because she was in an area where the smoke was much thicker – it’s impossible to know. What I can tell you is her heart is at risk.’

  ‘That sounds serious,’ Flo gasped.

  ‘It is.’ The doctor nodded. ‘But we’re doing everything we can. However, I must ask you to prepare yourselves for the worst. The casualties of this dreadful atrocity aren’t over yet.’

  Chapter Forty

  As Flo and Henry were shown into Celia’s room, Flo couldn’t help but do a double take as she took in the sight of her friend. Celia had gone downhill rapidly since she had seen her less than an hour ago. Her eyes were closed, her skin grey, and her breath was now so laboured that every inhalation looked like a struggle. A large bandage had been wrapped around her head, giving her the appearance of a little girl, rather than a grown woman who deserved a hero’s welcome.

  ‘Celia,’ Flo said cautiously, approaching the bed. ‘It’s me and Henry. We’ve come to see how you are.’

  Opening one eye, Celia regarded Flo fondly and smiled. ‘Thank you, love. You’ve always been a good girl.’

  ‘I don’t know about that,’ Flo said tenderly. ‘Like you, I was just doing my job today, doing what had to be done. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Like a great big bus has fallen on me,’ she croaked.

  Flo looked anxiously at Henry, who mouthed that he would go and get some water.

  ‘Don’t try and talk, Celia, just get some rest. Henry’s gone to get water; he’ll be back in a minute, then we’ll leave you to it and come back and see how you are tomorrow.’

  At that Celia g
ripped Flo’s arm. ‘Don’t go. We both know I’m not getting out of here alive.’

  ‘Don’t say that,’ Flo said furiously, doing her best to swallow back the tears. ‘The doctors said you’re fine.’

  ‘You’re a lovely girl, Flo, but a terrible liar,’ Celia croaked again. ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘About you, about your life.’

  Flo sighed. She was exhausted and she knew Celia was too.

  ‘Let’s talk tomorrow,’ Flo said again. ‘We’re all tired; we need some rest.’

  ‘No,’ Celia said, more forcefully this time. ‘You need to hear this and I need to say it.’

  Flo eyed her friend cautiously. ‘All right.’

  ‘There are some things you don’t know,’ Celia rasped. ‘Things you should know. Things Aggie should have told you before she died and didn’t.’

  Flo was surprised. ‘What does Aggie have to do with anything? Did you know her?’

  Just then Henry reappeared with a jug of water. At the sight of him, Flo turned and looked at him with concern. ‘Celia wants to talk to me. She says it’s important.’

  ‘Oh?’ Henry said, placing the jug down beside Celia’s bedside and clamping her hand between his. ‘Just try and rest, there’s plenty of time for all this.’

  But Celia was insistent. ‘No, it’s time, and I need your help.’

  Henry said nothing, simply closing his eyes and raising his face heavenwards as if in deep thought.

  ‘All right,’ he said eventually. With that he turned to Flo and smiled tenderly. ‘What I’ve got to say isn’t going to be easy.’

  Alarm pulsed through Flo as she glanced from Henry’s face to Celia’s. ‘What do you mean? Has this got something to do with the missing money?’

  Henry shook his head. ‘This is about you. You see, I wasn’t entirely honest about the reason I wanted you to sing at Stan’s school.’