Under the Apple Tree (3 page)

functioning smoothly, would all be gone. How would they

ever manage to sort it all out?

‘Judy!’

She turned quickly. ‘Miss Marsh! Oh, I’m so glad to see

carrying a notebook and wearing her office suit and her smart hat with the little veil, and Judy felt suddenly

ashamed of her own clothes - the skirt and jumper she’d

worn to go to the shelter last night, with her old coat thrown

over the top. She began to stammer out an apology, but the

supervisor cut her short.

‘Don’t be silly, child. You’ve got here, that’s the

important thing. Was it very difficult, getting through the

streets?’

‘Well, it was a bit.’ Judy thought of the ruined houses, the

fires, the devastation on all sides. ‘And we were bombed out

ourselves.’

‘You were bombed out? My dear girl!’

‘Yes — our house was blown to bits,‘Judy told her, nodding

miserably. ‘There’s nothing left at all.’ And to her dismay, she began to cry, again the tears pouring down her face as she stood at the edge of the square with the Guildhall and, it seemed, the whole of Portsmouth, in flames around her.

‘Judy. Come here, love.’ She felt the older woman’s arms

around her and leaned against the solid body, half amazed at

what was happening. Miss Marsh had always been strict and

unapproachable, not the sort of person you’d cry on at all yet

here she was, patting Judy’s shoulder and murmuring,

‘There, there,’ just like a mum or an auntie would.

‘I’m sorry, Miss Marsh,’ Judy said shakily. ‘I didn’t mean

to give way like that — but I was so frightened when I saw

the Guildhall, and so worried about the Mayor and

everyone, and then when I saw you—’

‘It’s all right, Judy. You don’t have to go on.’ Miss Marsh

gave her a handkerchief. ‘It’s not very clean, I’m afraid there’s so much dust in the air. Now, let me get this

straight. Your own home was bombed last night, is that

right? Was anyone hurt?’

‘No.‘Judy blew her nose. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to use—’

‘Don’t be silly. Who else lives in the house? Your mother

and father?’

‘Yes, and Polly — she’s my auntie, my mum’s sister — and

her little girl Sylvie, only she’s evacuated, and my brother,

when he’s at home, but he’s away at sea now. He’s in the

Navy.’

‘So it’s just you and your parents and your aunt at home

at the moment?’ Miss Marsh said, trying to unravel this

information. ‘And where are they now?’

‘They went round to the church hall. They’re going to

my gran’s up at Copnor after, but they had to stay there to

register. Someone said there’s clothes, and there might even

be a bit of money to help get straight again. It’s not that we

want charity,’ Judy said earnestly, ‘but we’ve lost everything, and there’s the electricity bill to pay, and—’

‘Well, all that will be sorted out. And will you be staying

with your grandmother in Copnor?’

‘Yes. She lives in April Grove, off September Street.’

‘I know where you mean. So at least you’ve got somewhere

to go tonight?’

‘Yes. That’s why I thought I ought to come down and see

what’s happening here.’ Judy sniffed and blew her nose

again. ‘Only it took such a long time getting through the

streets, and I know I’m ever so late …’

‘For heaven’s sake, girl, don’t apologise for being late. I’m

amazed you came at all. Now listen, the Lord Mayor’s

arranging to take over part of the Royal Beach Hotel at

Southsea to use as offices - it was closed when the war

started and is already being used as a casualty clearing

station - so that’s where you’ll be reporting for work. It’s

the ARP who have relocated to Cosham. As you’ve seen,

selves who have lost everything - he’s managed to find a bank that’s open for business and they’ve released a

substantial sum of money for the Air-Raid Distress Fund, so

that people can be given some ready cash. The War

Emergency Committee will divide it between all their

members so that it can be distributed. They’ll also be

evacuating any homeless women or children who want to

leave the city and, as you know, Emergency Centres have

been set up in schools and church halls.’

‘Yes, that’s where Mum and Dad went,’ Judy nodded.

‘And you remember the Lady Mayoress set up her own

Clothing Fund at the beginning of the war, so there will, we

hope, be enough clothes to give everyone at least one warm

outfit.’ Her glance took in Judy’s own shabby attire. ‘I

suppose that’s all you have yourself now?’

Judy said glumly, ‘I’m afraid it is, Miss Marsh. They’re

my oldest things, I always change into them, to keep my

work clothes nice, and when the siren went—’

‘Well, I wouldn’t expect you to be dressed in your best

for an air raid!’ The supervisor’s face broke into a rare smile.

‘Now, you’re not to worry about that. Come to work in

whatever you can find. But today, I think you ought to go

back and help your family.’

‘Oh no! I mean, I ought to be at work - there must be so

much to do. And there isn’t really anything I can do at home

- at Gran’s, I mean -‘ To her horror, she felt the tears

gather in her eyes again and blinked them away furiously.

‘I’d much rather be doing something useful, Miss Marsh.’

The supervisor looked at her consideringly. ‘Very well,

then. But you don’t have to come all the way out to

Southsea, not today. What you can do is stay here and look

out for any other Guildhall or Municipal staff like yourself,

who come down to find out what’s happening. Tell them to

report to the Royal Beach.’ She sighed. ‘We still don’t know

who is likely to turn up and who isn’t. There may be others

who’ve been bombed out, or even hurt in the raids. But those who can, will surely do as you did and come here.

Now, do you think you can do that? You know everyone,

don’t you?’ She held out her notebook. ‘Write down the

names of all the people you see.’

Judy nodded. ‘I can do that, Miss Marsh.’

‘Good. That enables me to go out to the hotel and get on

with the work there. We’re having to start completely from

scratch. Now, Judy, when you’re sure you’ve seen everyone

- everyone who comes here, that is - you’re to go back to

your grandmother’s and be with your family. You’ve had a

dreadful time and you must be exhausted.’

‘We didn’t get much sleep last night, but I don’t really

feel tired, Miss Marsh - just sort of light, if you know what

I mean.’ Judy put her hand to her forehead and swayed

slightly. ‘I expect I’m just a bit hungry.’

Miss Marsh gave her a sharp glance. ‘A cup of tea and

something to eat for you, my girl. Come on — there’s a stall

over there, they’ll see to you.’ She led Judy over to a

makeshift stall where an urn was boiling on a large stove

which appeared to have been built out of bricks salvaged

from the piles of rubble. A woman in a green uniform was

dealing out mugs of tea and sticky buns to the firemen and

soldiers who were still desperately trying to put out-the fire.

Gratefully, Judy ate a bun, surprised to find just how

hungry she was, and swallowed the tea. She smiled a trifle

shakily at the supervisor. ‘I feel a bit better now. Sorry

about that.’

‘That’s all right. You’ve got more colour in your cheeks,

anyway. Now, I’m off back to Southsea. Don’t forget — it’s

the Royal Beach Hotel — and once you’re sure you’ve seen

everyone, you’re to go straight home. Don’t stay here too

long, anyway. If they haven’t arrived by mid-afternoon, they

won’t be coming.’ Her face twisted a little and she turned

away. ‘I’ll look for you at the hotel tomorrow morning.’

‘Yes, Miss Marsh.’ Judy watched her walk briskly away.

She knew well enough what the supervisor had meant.

There might be casualties, even deaths, amongst the staff. In

the chaos that the raid had caused, nobody knew what might

have happened.

How did other places manage when this happened to

them? she wondered. Places like London, Bristol, Liverpool,

Coventry. They’d been through this as well, yet somehow

they still managed to carry on.

Perhaps that was the answer. Perhaps that was all you

could do. Just carry on.

It was growing dark again as Judy walked wearily down

October Street and turned into April Grove. The pall of smoke

was still drifting above the rooftops, and with no street-lights and every house blacked out there was no glimmer of cheer in

the devastated streets, no hint of warmth in the bitter cold.

What will we do if they come again? she wondered. How could

we stand another night like last night?

She came to her grandmother’s door and knocked. It

opened, and her aunt drew back the blackout curtain for

Judy to push past. They felt their way down the short, dark

passage to the back room, where she found the family sitting

round by the glow of a small fire with a kettle resting on the

coals, and the light of a single candle. Her mother and

grandmother sat in armchairs on each side of the fire, and

Dick and Polly were on kitchen chairs in front of it. Dick

got up and moved his chair aside, pulling another into the

space for Judy.

‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘It’s horrible outside.’ She

shrugged off her coat and hung it on the inside of the door

to the staircase.

‘Oh Judy, thank goodness,’ her mother said. ‘We were

starting to get worried about you.’

‘I’ve been down the Guildhall Square, looking out for the

other people at work. They’ve moved the offices out to

Southsea.’ Judy sank down on the chair and stretched her

hands out to the fire. ‘It’s awful, Mum. The whole place has

gone. The Guildhall’s still burning, and they say everything

inside’s been destroyed. All those lovely pictures, and the

wooden panelling, and the carpets - everything. And there’s

street after street just ruined. You can’t get through some of

them at all. Someone told me there’d been nearly three

thousand fires. Three thousand! How could they hope to

put them all out?’

‘It’s wicked,’ Cissie said, her voice trembling. ‘Wicked.’

‘It’s war, Cis,’ Dick said. ‘There’s worse happening than

a few pictures and carpets getting burned. People are being

killed. Like that young woman just up the road here.’

‘What young woman?’ Judy looked at him. She’d visited

her grandmother often enough to know most of the

neighbours in April Grove by sight and from Alice’s talk.

‘Who’s been killed, Dad?’

‘I’m not sure if you knew her,’ Alice said. She looked

down at the black and white cat on her knee, stroking his

head. ‘She’d only been here a few months - bombed out in

the first big raid she was, and came to live in March Street.

Kathy Simmons - had two little girls and a baby boy.’

‘I remember you talking about her.’ Judy stared at her

grandmother. ‘Wasn’t the baby born in the shelter? Don’t

say she’s been killed? Was that her house I saw this

morning, bombed flat?’

‘That’s the one. Olive Chapman as was - you know, she

married Derek Harker from the builder’s - had just gone

over to fetch her to their shelter but Kathy went back

indoors to boil some water for her Thermos flask, apparently,

just as the bomb fell.’ Alice shook her head. Her face

creased with sadness. ‘They said she couldn’t have known

anything about it - but still, it’s cruel, a young mother like

that killed for no reason.’

‘Oh, how awful.’ Judy put both hands to her face. ‘What

about the children? Those little girls - and the baby?’

Cissie took out a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. ‘Olive

had the girls with her, out in the street. They were blown halfway up the road by the blast, but they weren’t hurt, not

as such. But the baby - he was with his mummy, poor little

scrap.’ She stopped, her mouth working. ‘Only six months

old. It don’t bear thinking of.’

Polly put her hand on her sister’s arm. ‘Don’t upset

yourself all over again, Cis. It’s terrible, I know, but like

Mum says, they couldn’t have known anything about it.’

‘But it’s their lives gone, isn’t it!’ Cissie cried. ‘That little baby, with his whole life ahead of him - he never even had

the chance to learn to crawl! As for those two girls, they’ve

lost their mother. And they’re not the only ones, are they?

There’s you, Polly, with your Johnny gone, and poor Olive

Chapman lost her baby that she was expecting, and others,

hundreds and hundreds of others. What was Mrs Shaw

along the road telling you about her Gladys, driving that

ambulance last night? Went down a cellar she did, and

found a whole family dead down there, all except one little

girl. How’s that poor little soul ever going to get over it?

How are any of them ever going to get over it? And this is

just the beginning!’ She pulled her apron up over her face

and began to cry. ‘I don’t think I can stand it any more!’ she

said in a muffled voice. ‘I just don’t think I can stand it!’