Lover (35 page)

‘I'll see you in a minute. Now I've got to crawl out backwards…' She gave a little laugh. ‘Thank goodness for slacks, that's all I can say.'

There was more talk after that, and then it was a man on the other side of the planks, sawing, then hands reaching for me, and the man got his hands under my armpits and dragged me out through this sort of tunnel, and at the top I saw they'd covered up a great section with a tarpaulin, so that must have been the flapping noise I heard.

It was pretty dark, apart from the torches, but half the block was gone. There was just a heap of rubble with odd shapes sticking up here and there. The centre staircase was still in place, and as I looked, a searchlight beam went across and I saw the wall of what had been the top flat in the middle of the block, green patterned wallpaper and little table with barley-sugar legs standing up there all by itself. There looked to be something on top, as well, an ornament of some sort, but it was too far away and the beam passed before I could take in any more.

There were people everywhere, passing out baskets of debris, ambulances backed up, ARP, but I was too tired and dazed to take much of it in, really. A bossy woman—a nurse, judging by her uniform—came and was all for getting me to the first aid post, but I told her, ‘There's nothing wrong with me, and I'm not going anywhere until I know about my family.' She said the Wild Street shelter hadn't been hit, but I told her that wasn't good enough, and I wasn't going nowhere until I'd seen them because I'd got to tell Dora about Joe. Then of course she's asked me who Joe is, and I've explained, and I suppose she must have reckoned I was all right after that, because she didn't press it, just said she'd go and have a word with the warden about the records, whatever they are.

I could hardly stand, so the rescue man carried me over to sit on the kerb by the mobile canteen because there wasn't any glass back there. When he put me down on the ground I could suddenly feel my legs again, very cold, and I looked down and saw my skirt and slip were ripped right down the side and you could see the tops of my stockings. That was pretty much all that was left of them. The rest was torn to shreds.

I was shivering all over, so somebody fetched a couple of blankets, and next time I looked up, there was the girl with a cup of tea.

I said, ‘Oh, you kept your promise.'

‘Of course I did. It's hot, and there's plenty of sugar.'

‘I'm sorry, dear, what did you say your name was?'

‘Lucy. Lucy Armitage.'

‘Thank you, Lucy.'

She tried to put the mug into my hands but I couldn't hold it, so she said she'd sit down beside me on the kerb and hold the cup so I could have a sip whenever I liked. That was too much, her kindness, and I'm afraid I made a fool of myself then, and started to cry a bit, and she said, ‘Here,' and took her handkerchief out of her pocket and held it out to me. ‘I'm afraid it's a bit crumpled, but it's quite clean.'

So I had a bit of a mop-up, and the hankie, after, was stiff with plaster and grime. I said, ‘I'm ever so sorry, I've ruined it.'

Lucy said, ‘Oh, it'll wash off. Now then. I'll just put this tea down, and I'll go and fetch my handbag. I've got another hankie, so you can tidy up a bit—more before you see your little boy.'

‘What did you say?'

‘Tommy. Your little boy. You were talking about him. You know, down there.'

‘Oh. Well, I… He's not
mine
, of course, he's my sister's, but…but…I…'

‘But I thought…' She frowned for a moment and said, ‘Oh, dear, I'm sorry. You were saying you love him as if he was your own, weren't you? That's what you said, and I misunderstood you.'

‘Yes…yes, that's right…as if he was…I do…yes…'

‘Of course. How silly of me. Now, I'll just be a minute.'

What a nice girl! When she'd gone, I thought, where's
my
handbag? And then I remembered it was still down under the bed with poor Mrs Everley. I tried to remember what was in there—keys, purse…not that there was much in that…identity card, lighter, a photograph of Tommy, compact, lipstick…

Not much chance of getting any of it back. At least I always leave my ration book at home unless I'm shopping, so that was one thing I didn't have to worry about.

‘Here we are.' Lucy came back with her handbag. ‘I expect you'd like a cigarette, wouldn't you? It always helps.'

‘I can't take that, it's your last.'

‘I insist.' She lit it and handed it over. ‘Now you'll have to have it.' She watched me for a moment, then said, ‘That's better, isn't it?'

‘Lovely. Just what I needed. You are a dear.'

Lucy gave me another hankie, all neatly folded, and said, ‘Take this.'

‘It's no good, dear, without soap and water.'

‘Well, you keep it anyway. You might need it later.'

An ARP warden came up then, with a lot of papers in his hand. ‘Are you Miss Tate?'

‘That's right.'

‘This Joe you mentioned… We've got a Mr J. Nicholls listed for Flat Three; would that be the person?'

‘Joe Nicholls, yes. Do you know…?'

‘We've dug him out, yes, but—'

‘He's dead, isn't he?'

‘I'm afraid so, miss. Are you a relative?'

‘He's married to my sister. Have you told her?'

‘No one's been notified, as far as I know, but—'

I said, ‘Right. I want to see them—her and the boy. I'd like to be the one to tell them, if you don't mind. They're in the shelter down the street.'

‘Well, miss, they can't come up here. You shouldn't be here yourself, now.'

‘I tell you, I'm going nowhere until I've seen Dora and Tommy.'

Lucy said, ‘I can take you down to the shelter, if you think you can manage it.'

The warden said, ‘She ought to go to the first aid post.'

I said, ‘Who's “she”? The cat's mother? I'm fine. I'll do all that later. Give us a hand up, Lucy, and we'll go down there now.'

She said, ‘Are you sure you can manage?'

I said, ‘Well, we won't be beating any greyhounds, but we'll get there,' because I was determined I was going to tell Dora and Tommy myself. I was a bit shaky when I got up—it didn't help that I'd lost a heel off one of my shoes, but I couldn't take them off because of all the glass. I said to Lucy, ‘I can't bear that type. Bloody little Hitler.'

‘He's only doing his job, Rene.'

‘So were those up there that bombed us. Everyone's only doing their bloody job…'

By the time we got to the shelter my knees were buckling, so Lucy found me a place to sit, and said, ‘Right, I'll go and speak to the warden about your sister, then I'd better be off.'

‘Thank you, dear. For all you've done. I'm very grateful. And if there's anything I can do for you…'

Lucy gave me a lovely smile. ‘It's nothing, really. Goodbye, Rene.'

When Dora and Tommy came over with the warden, they just stood and stared at me. I wanted to get up and give Tommy a hug, but I didn't think I'd manage it, so I said, ‘Don't you recognise your Auntie?'

Dora said. ‘Blimey, Rene,
I
wouldn't have recognised you! What happened?'

I said, ‘I was in the block.'

‘Oh.'

I didn't know how to tell her, but before I could start, she said, very quietly, ‘It's Joe, isn't it?'

‘Oh, Dora, I'm so sorry…'

‘Are you sure? I mean, there's not…there's no…?'

I shook my head. ‘The warden up there, he told me.'

‘But what… I mean, why are you… I don't understand. Oh, I knew, I knew this would happen. I said to him, “Joe, you've got to come to the shelter.” I kept telling him, but he wouldn't listen. Why didn't he listen, Rene? I told him…'

‘I'm sorry, Dora.'

‘Did you see him, Rene? That's why you were there, wasn't it, to see him?'

‘I didn't see him. I was there just when it started—never even got up the stairs.'

‘Oh, I'm glad. I'm glad you didn't fight. I wouldn't have wanted him to die angry. It was bad enough us having words before, but if…if…'

She stood there with tears streaming down her face, and I felt so helpless, I couldn't even get up. All I had was this handkerchief Lucy'd given me, so I held it out and said, ‘Come on, Dora, sit down.'

I don't remember much after that, just Tommy in Dora's lap with his arms round her neck saying, ‘Mum, where's Daddy? Where's Daddy?' and Dora like a block of wood staring straight ahead, muttering, ‘I told him, I told him…' over and over, and Tommy shouting louder and louder, drowning her out, and then it all seemed to fall away from me like a wave and that was the last I knew.

T
alk about a baptism of fire—what an adventure! I went to the centre for my first shift, very nervous in case I didn't measure up, and was summoned to the office to meet the van driver, who turned out to be a woman! Her name was Mrs Large, and she looked as if she'd made quite an effort to live up to it, which was rather unfortunate. Hennaed hair—not a very becoming shade—but very jolly and nice. The van was duly loaded with tea and meat pies and some rather nasty-looking cake on trays, and then we set off. It was a difficult route, terribly bumpy, but I must say, Mrs L was terrifically calm and rather good at it.

Two stops at bomb sites, and lots of banter with the demolition workers, who seem a merry lot, and then back to the centre to pick up more food, and—thank goodness—the chance to spend a penny. I'd just come out of the lavatory when the woman in charge rushed up, very flustered, and said there was an emergency and we were wanted immediately and why weren't we on our way already? Felt like retorting, because nobody's told us where to go, and I could see from Mrs L's expression that she was thinking the same, but neither of us said anything.

It took us quite a time to get there—diversions everywhere—but Mrs L was marvellous. Even with the light failing, I could see that it was much worse than the previous two-half a block was down, with beams and bricks and odd things strewn all over the place, and it was very obvious that there must be people trapped underneath, because there was so much activity.

We'd only been there about twenty minutes—very busy— when Mrs L was called away by one of the ARP men. Another man came to join them, and they went into a sort of huddle just outside the van. I seized the chance for some much-needed tidying up, but every time I glanced through the hatch, they seemed to be looking in my direction. Eventually, Mrs L poked her head in and said, ‘Could you go outside for a minute, dear, and speak to the gentlemen?'

I said ‘Of course,' and went out, Mrs L following. ‘This is Dr Royce, dear. He'd like to ask you something.'

Dr Royce took a step back and looked me up and down, then turned to the ARP man beside him and said, ‘What do you think?'

‘I'd say so.'

Dr Royce asked my name, and then, to my utter astonishment, he asked what was my hip measurement! I thought I must be imagining things, but he repeated the question, so I said, ‘Thirty-four inches.'

The ARP man said, ‘We've got a problem, you see. There's a party down there, and we're digging her out, but it's going to take time and she's getting rather hysterical. We don't think she's badly hurt, but the doctor says she could do with having morphia. The way the stuff's fallen, there's a bit of a tunnel to where she is, but none of us can fit through and we're afraid she'll start thrashing around and bring the lot down, so we wondered if you'd be willing…'

‘To take it to her?' I looked at Mrs L.

‘I've said I can spare you, dear. I'd do it myself, only I'm too big.'

‘Well, I suppose… I mean, yes, of course I will.'

The ARP man produced a tin hat—like a magician, I thought—and clapped it on my head, and they walked me round to the entrance of the tunnel, with tarpaulin over the top weighed down at each side by bricks. It seemed to lead right into the middle of a great mound of rubble. ‘She's underneath that lot, see,' said one of the workers. ‘This is the only way we can get to her.' He handed me a torch, and Dr Royce gave me the tablet to put in my pocket. ‘This won't work immediately,' he said, ‘but see if you can wait with her and keep her calm. Her name's Miss Tate.'

‘Good luck, miss,' said the man who'd given me the torch, ‘and remember, keep low and try not to knock anything.' It was easy at first—you could stand under the tarpaulin—but then it flattened down to a tunnel through the rubble, with bits of wood and pipe sticking across it. I couldn't see much in front of me, despite the torch, but I was aware that all the time I was shuffling forward, the tunnel was growing lower and narrower until I was right down on my stomach, scrabbling forward using my hands, with about an inch to spare on either side of my shoulders. I could feel myself starting to sweat, because I was frightened—it was very eerie, like crawling into a tomb, and then this wailing noise burst out from the end of the tunnel, almost inhuman, so that I had visions of meeting Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi at the other end, as well as this horrible, sick fear inside that there would be another raid and I'd be trapped and crushed.

After a few minutes I was trembling so badly I could hardly move, but I knew I had to do it, because there was no one else who could. Then the wailing stopped, and I thought, I've got to prepare myself for the worst, because no one had actually
seen
the woman and they didn't know what sort of state she'd be in. So I had visions of finding a dead body, but all the time I was saying to myself,
I must not fail, I've got to get there…