Blackbirds (17 page)

“Sean was such a friendly boy. If I close my eyes, I can see him and his parents walking down the street. They were a happy family. Sean always looked up to his father.” The evening sun highlighted Maxine's red hair.

Sharon nodded. “I would have liked to have met him.”

Maxine said, “He had hair your colour, and blue eyes. So much energy. That boy was going morning, noon, and night. Made his teachers earn their pay.”

Sharon looked at the sun as it touched the tops of the trees. The breeze had moved on and left behind still evening air. “I'd better get back to work. Thank you for the sandwiches.”

“Happy to do it.”

Four hours later, Sharon stopped and looked around her. She saw only Nigel bending to pull at a broken beam. They worked by the light of three lanterns spaced in a triangle around the rubble. They'd gotten used to working in half-light and deep shadow.

“Why don't you go and get some rest?” Sharon's body ached and the skin on her fingers felt like it had been peeled off.

“I'll quit when you do.” He pulled a beam free and dragged it over to the pile in the backyard. Nigel disappeared into the darkness.

She heard the beam thump as it landed on the pile. “I can't stop until I find him.”

He walked back into the light of the lanterns. “Let's break for a cup of tea, then we'll get back to it.” Nigel stepped over a twisted bed frame.

Sharon walked over to the curb and sat down.
Every muscle and
bone aches
. She looked at her hands. She felt the blister bubbles on her palms.

Nigel sat down next to her, then reached for the flask and two cups Margaret had left for them. He handed her a cup and poured.

“Thank you.” Sharon took a sip. The tea was too strong and too sweet. Still, it tasted delicious in her parched mouth.

Nigel poured himself a cup and drank. “How's yours?”

“Delicious.”

“Mine's bloody awful.”

Sharon heard someone tapping on a stone. “Who else is here?”

Nigel turned around. “Ow.” He moved his head in a circle to work out the kink in his neck. “Just the two of us.”

“Then what's that sound?” She turned to Nigel. “Are you making that sound?”

“Not me.”

“Where's it coming from?” Sharon got up. “Quick, before it stops!” Fear clamped its jaws around her heart and squeezed the breath out of her lungs. Her head spun. She had to concentrate to breathe. They walked side by side toward the corner of the partially exposed foundation.

Nigel pointed. “There, I think. You know, you may have been right. That's where they had the kitchen table. It was next to the window. The table was a massive thing. It's possible, if Sean got under it, that he could still be alive.”

Sharon pulled a stone away from the side of the pile.

“Careful now.” Nigel put a hand on Sharon's shoulder. “We don't want to bring the whole mess down on top of him or us. First, we have to move the lanterns.”

Sharon went to get one of them. The lamp hissed as she handed it to Nigel. He took it and found a spot to maximize visibility.

She left and returned with the next two.

“That should do it.” Nigel pulled tentatively at a bed frame, then dragged it away. “We work together from now on. Each move must be well thought out.” He handed the metal frame to her and she set it in the yard.

Every half hour or so, they switched positions. One would stand at the edge of the pile and hand the debris to the other, who would carry it away.

They worked and waited to see if the tapping would start up again.

Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

“There it is again.” Sharon held her hand up.

“We have to let him know we're here.” Nigel picked up a small shovel and tapped it against a stone jammed low on the pile.

The tapping from inside came back faster, louder.

Sharon cupped her hands around her mouth. “Sean! It's Sharon! We're here. Nigel and I are here!” She felt something building in her.
He's alive! We need to get him out now!

The tapping stopped for a minute, then picked up again.

Nigel said, “We have to take some tea now.”

“What?” Sharon looked at him like he'd lost his mind.

“We're both exhausted. Just a short rest. We're at risk of hurting the boy or worse if we make a mistake now. Our minds have to be as clear as possible.”

Sharon looked at the wall of rubble rising above them. One piece taken from the wrong place at the wrong time would bring the entire mess down on top of them. “All right.”

They drank and ate quietly, listening in case the tapping started up again. After ten minutes, Nigel nodded to her and they stood.

This time, they worked with fingertips, brushing around bricks, pulling each one out slowly, waiting for a shift in rubble warning them of a cave-in.

The tapping started, slowed, and stopped.

Sharon looked at her fingernails. They were worn down to the quick.

They worked in the mouth of an opening just above the foundation. She and Nigel took turns holding the lantern as they tunneled toward where they hoped to find Sean.

Sharon touched a round, vertical piece of oak. “Can you bring the light a little closer?”

“What have you got?” Nigel eased the lantern in so they could see the exposed table leg. “Looks promising. Work slowly now. We don't know how much room he's got.”

Sharon tapped a stone on the table leg.

There was tapping from the other side.

She put her hand on the oak leg. She could feel the tapping being telegraphed onto the blisters on her palm. The pain focused her. “Sean?”

The words from the other side were too muffled to be understood.

Sharon lay on her belly, digging away on either side of the table leg. The dust got into her nostrils and she sneezed. There was the scent of earth and wood.
There's some other smell there, too. Urine! Did I
wet myself?

Dirt and debris fell away under her fingertips.

Sharon sneezed in the cloud of dust particles illuminated by the lantern's glare.

“Bless you.” The child's voice was clear.

“Sean?” Sharon asked.

“Who are you?”

“Sharon.”

Sean asked, “Where's my father and mother?”

“Sean?” Nigel had his hand on Sharon's boot.

“Nigel?” Sean asked.

“Sharon and I are going to get you out. How much room have you got in there?” Nigel asked.

“I can move my arms and legs,” Sean said.

Sharon reached through the opening. “Can you touch my hand?”

At first, she felt a brushing, light as a sparrow's wings, then a child's hands gripped hers. She said, “Okay, let go of me. We're going to move some more of this shit away and make the opening big enough.”

“Let me have a go,” Nigel said.

“I've got five more minutes in me.” Sharon felt the grit in her hair and blinked away the dust on her eyelashes. She reached out with her right hand and pulled at the edges of the opening. She pulled the debris back down along her ribs and hip, then pushed it along her thigh to her knees. Sharon felt Nigel's fingers against her shins and ankles as he pulled the rubble away.

When her fingers brushed the bottom edge of the tabletop, she said, “Nigel, can you hand me the torch?”

She felt the flashlight tap her right knee. Sharon took it and maneuvered it up next to her face. She pressed the button.

A pair of blue eyes and a face the colour of dust stared back at her. His eyes were caked with dirt. She could smell him, too.

“We'll have you out soon,” Sharon said.

Sean shook his head. “No.”

“What?”

“I'm not coming out.” Sean set his jaw in the sharp light of the flashlight.

Sharon took a deep breath.
We don't have time for this
. Then she caught the strong stink of urine. “No one cares that you peed your pants. All we want is to get you safely out of here.”

Sean looked back at her. There were tears in his eyes. “My parents. They're dead, aren't they? That's why you wouldn't answer me.”

Sharon nodded. “I was with Patrick when he died.”

“What happened?”

“A bomber strafed us. He was killed in front of me.”

Sean began to sob.

Sharon used the flashlight to guide her hands. She moved debris and dirt around her body and passed it back to Nigel.

She touched Sean's hand.

He looked up.

“Hold onto my wrist. We're going to try to pull you out now.” Sharon looked back at Nigel, whose face was at her feet. “Can you pull me out when I tell you to?”

Nigel nodded. “Give the word.”

Sharon took Sean by the wrists. “Okay.”

Nigel grunted as he pulled.

Just concentrate on hanging on to Sean.

She felt her shoulder muscles straining.
Hold on!

Sean began to slide toward her.

Her right hipbone scraped over the corner of a protruding brick.

Sean pulled through the opening.

Hold on!

Dirt choked her. Then a gasp of fresh air. A brick caught her under the chin.

“You're out!” Nigel said.

She released Sean, sat up, and used her sleeve to wipe the dirt and snot from her nose and mouth.

Sean was on his hands and knees.

Nigel held out his hand to the boy. “Come on, Sean. Let's get some food in you and get you cleaned up.”

Sharon stood up and looked at the horizon. The sky was turning from black to orange.

“Are you coming?” Sean stood waiting for Sharon. She followed.

CHAPTER 17

[ MONDAY, AUGUST 19, 1940 ]

The sweet stink of rotting meat
rose up from the mass grave at the chapel at Biggin Hill.

That's why there's such a rush to get this over with. Too many dead
and nowhere to put them
. Sharon felt Sean lean closer against her hip.

From the other side, Margaret nudged Sharon.

There was a question on Sharon's face when she turned to Margaret.

Margaret mouthed, “Put your arm around the boy.”

Sharon looked at Sean, who stared into the row of fifteen coffins arranged side by side at the bottom of the trench. She put her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. He tucked his head against her ribs. He smelled of soap and the hand-me-down jacket, shirt, and pants Nigel had managed to procure from another family in the village.

Sharon felt him shift and tug up pants that required a belt and another year of growth before they would fit him.
I feel so protective
toward him already. It's like I fell in love with him when I saw his dirty
face in the midst of all this ruin
.

She looked across the mass grave at the minister. He wore white and black robes and read from his Bible. Above the coffins, people stood with their heads bent, apparently intent on what the minister was saying. Sharon counted the coffins again. “Fifteen.”

Sean looked up at her. She shook her head and tried to smile. Sean snuggled closer to her.

I killed at least that many yesterday
. She remembered the blood on her Spitfire.
The German pilot went through a meat grinder
.

A vivid image of the Me 109 pilot's body exploding into a red mist of flesh, bone, and blood filled her mind's eye. Sharon closed her eyes and suppressed an urge to giggle.
What is wrong with me?

Sean tugged at her hand. She looked down.

Sean looked away and said, “It's over.”

He and Sharon watched the mourners leaving the gravesite. Some looked up into the sky as if expecting another attack.

“Coming with us, Sean?” Margaret asked.

Sean looked at his sister. “He's staying with me.”
We never discussed
this, never planned beyond the funeral
.

Margaret and Nigel looked at Sharon, then at Sean. “We just thought,” Margaret said. “We can offer him a safe home.”

And you think I can't?
Sharon shook her head. “You've been so kind. I. . . we'll never forget. It's just that he's all I've got. I'm all he has. I'm not saying this very well.”

Margaret nodded, a frown on her lips.

He's my brother. I'm his sister. It's that simple
.

Sean looked up at his sister. “Where are you taking me, then?”

I don't know
.
We have to go back to White Waltham. He can stay
with me there.

“
Somewhere safe.” Nigel said. “Sean needs to be somewhere safe. It's not safe around here anymore.”

Sharon couldn't help but be impressed.
Spitfires and Hurricanes crackled overhead as they landed or taxied across Biggin Hill's repaired runway. Rubble that used to be a hangar was being hauled away by a line of trucks.