A Rose in No-Man's Land (28 page)

“You will go home, don’t worry.” Olive rocked her gently.

If I have to contact every captain named Mark in France, I will
, Olive vowed fiercely. It shouldn’t be too bloody hard. An English captain in the Australian army who won the Military Cross and the Distinguished Service Order. Young Freddy, being in the army, would know the right people to contact.
You won’t be getting away with this, Captain Mark Whatever-your-bloody-name-is. You’ll give her enough money to get home and set herself up, or my name isn’t Olive Emily Docherty.

Olive couldn’t fathom out why she felt so protective toward Amy. Maybe it was because of her frail beauty, but more likely because of her courage. She always admired women with guts.

“Olive, Olive!” A dust-covered, wild-eyed Dorry dashed in, screaming hysterically. “Charlie’s missing! Vera and me went back to the pub. It’s collapsed into the cellar. Hit by a bomb.”

Amy’s tears dried immediately as her nursing training kicked in.

“Charlie went down to the cellar before the bombs fell,” Dorry sobbed.

“That bloody plonk of his. I warned him it would be the death of him one day,” Olive moaned. “I bloody told him.”

“Here’s your coat. We’ll go over. I’m sure he’ll be all right.” It was Amy’s turn to be strong now. “Can you take us through the shortcut, Dorry?” She thrust a glass of orange juice into the girl’s trembling hand. “Is Vera all right?”

“Yes, everyone’s all right except for a few scratches. Charlie’s the only one. He’s dead.”

“Shut up, Dorry,” Amy ordered.

Amy helped Olive on with her coat, and it was terrible to feel Olive’s shoulders shaking with sobs, to see the tears coursing down her ashen cheeks.

“Brought up like brother and sister, Charlie and me. We’ve always looked out for each other,” she sobbed.

“He’ll be all right. You told me yourself he’s a survivor.”

“Not from a bloody bomb.”

They followed Dorry through dingy alleyways damp and fetid with filth. Olive hurried as fast as she could, which was little more than a slow shuffle; even this brought on an attack of wheezing and coughing.

A large crowd had gathered around the pub. The front appeared relatively undamaged, but the back half had collapsed into the cellar. Rescue crews were already going about their work, the police had cordoned off the area, and fire crews waited, ready to swing into action.

“What’s happening?” Amy went to the officer in charge. “We’re relatives of Charlie’s. I’m his sister, and Olive is…”

“I know who she is. If you’re Charlie’s sister, I’m the king. How you doing, Olive?”

“How do you bloomin’ think? Bloody rozzers, you’re idiots, all of you.”

“Now come on, don’t get yourself in a state. He’s alive. We heard him calling out.”

Amy edged Olive away to where several of her cronies stood before darting back to the policeman.

“What do you think?” she asked.

“Don’t know, miss. He yelled out a few times. We made a hole in the rubble, thought he might be able to crawl out, but he said he couldn’t move, his leg was trapped.”

“Can’t someone go down and check?”

“It’s too dangerous. The building is unstable. There’s been a couple of falls already. We’ll have to wait for the army to send over some engineers.”

“How long will that take?”

“A while. I’m sorry, miss. I can’t risk sending anyone down to him, even if I could get a volunteer. It’s just too dangerous.”

“You can’t leave him down there on his own. He could be bleeding, unconscious, anything.”

Amy walked over and took a closer look at the piles of rubble. The back section of the pub had collapsed like a pack of cards. The roof had disappeared, and only the lower-storey walls stood, precariously propped up on either side by piles of debris. It would not take much for the whole thing to topple into the cellar, burying Charlie alive. There was a hole between two giant beams, and a policeman leaned down, yelling through the gap.

“Is he answering?”

“No, miss.”

“Does the hole go right down?”

“It’s what’s left of the stairs they used for carrying the barrels down. The entrance is half blocked, but we’re afraid to clear it in case the rest of the building tumbles down.”

“I’m small. I could fit through,” Amy volunteered.

“You’d go down there, the way things are? You must be mad.”

Charlie had been good to her. If it hadn’t been for him… She trembled, just thinking about the consequences. She owed him.

Her stomach, churning over in fear, made her feel sick. She clenched her hands inside her pockets so no one would see how they trembled. Was she carrying Mark’s child? If so, dared she risk it? She argued with herself for a few moments longer, but there was no choice. Charlie’s need could be urgent. Obviously no one else wanted to volunteer, even if they could squeeze through the gap.

She took off her warm coat, and immediately the icy cold air nipped her skin. It looked like a tight squeeze, and once she got down there she mightn’t be able to get back up again. If the engineers couldn’t move the debris without bringing the rest of the walls down, she would be entombed.

What’s wrong with you, Smithfield? You’re a nurse, aren’t you? Do what you’re trained for.
“God, please help me.” She prayed for the strength to go down to Charlie. He might be dead already. She could be risking herself for nothing, but if he lay trapped and injured, he could die without help.
You’ve got no choice. Think of the sappers digging those tunnels in France, living in them, sometimes goodness knows how far under the ground, as they set up their explosives. It wouldn’t be anywhere near as bad as that.

She glanced up at the cloudy sky, took several deep, ragged breaths, and stood her ground. “I’m going down there with or without your help. Charlie’s down there, and I’m not going to leave him on his own.”

“I don’t know, miss.”

A couple of lousy beams. If only they could be moved, he would be easily freed, but if they shifted them without checking what load they supported, a ton of rubble could crash down on him.

“What’s down there?”

“Steps like a ladder,” one of the barmen said. “You don’t mean to go down, miss?”

“Someone has to. I’m the only one who’ll fit.” A blatant lie, as there were a couple of men thin enough, but they were obviously not prepared to risk their lives for Charlie.

She handed her coat to Olive.

“Don’t go. Charlie wouldn’t expect you to. Please, Amy.”

“I have to.” She kissed Olive’s plump, tearstained cheek. “I owe him, and Olive, if something happens, I mean the worst scenario, I want to thank you for being my friend.”

Olive gave a loud wailing sob and wrung her hands in anguish.

“Would you let my cousin Guy know what happened?” Amy went on. “I’ve got one of his letters in a chocolate box in my room, his address is on it, and, and, Mark, write to him. Tell him I love him. I always loved him, there was never anyone else. Captain Mark Tremayne. You’ll find his details in the box, too.”

Olive gave her a hug, planting a sloppy kiss on either cheek. Amy disentangled herself and walked toward the policeman. She did not look back, didn’t dare, because she would not have had the courage to do what needed to be done.

“I don’t think you should go down there, miss,” the policeman said.

“Charlie is my friend, and he might need help. I’m an army nurse. I could help him. Besides I’m the only adult small enough to fit through the gap. You can pass down a couple of blankets and a water bottle.”

“What’s your name, miss?” The young newspaper reporter from the bakery fire dashed over. “Are you really going down there?”

“Yes, I am, and no, you can’t have my name.”

“You’re so brave. It will make a good story.”

“I’m not brave, and I don’t want you to write anything about this.” She turned her back on him and addressed the policeman. “Are you going to help me down or not?”

“I don’t know.” He gnawed his lip and fiddled with his baton.

“I’m going down with or without your help. Charlie needs me.” Amy tossed her head defiantly.

She leaned over the hole and saw a huge piece of concrete held up by a beam. On peering down, she saw several steps. If the debris around the concrete could be moved and the beams dragged away, anyone could climb down and rescue Charlie. If they shifted the concrete off the beam and it supported a load-bearing wall, the whole place would collapse.

In a couple of hours the sappers would come, but could Charlie wait that long? She had to go down. She couldn’t let him stay there alone, even if it meant being entombed with him. There was simply no other choice.

She stretched out on her stomach and slid her legs through the gap. A loud murmur circulated through the crowd. She had no idea whether it was a sound of approval or disapproval as she wriggled her body while pushing with her hands. Dear God, if her feet missed the steps…
I’m not going to think
negatively. I mustn’t
. She gritted her teeth. She’d ruin her clothes. How idiotic, worrying about trifles at a time like this.

When only her head and shoulders remained above ground, her feet touched the steps. She wriggled and slithered a little more, closing her eyes as her head slid under the beam. Her hands felt the cold hardness of stone immediately. Hunched over, she backed down the steps; bone-chilling dampness assailed her.

A pile of loose stones partially blocked her way. She turned, sat on a step, and dug through the rubble with her bare hands.

“Charlie?”

No answer. “Charlie, it’s Amy. Where are you?”

She dug frantically now, wishing she had a shovel. He had been buried down here for a couple of hours, long enough to have bled to death a dozen times over. Her hands and nails were ripped and torn by the time she cleared a pathway. In her eagerness to get to him, she tumbled down the last couple of steps and banged her knee.

The cellar wasn’t completely dark, as slivers of light filtered through from somewhere higher up. Bricks and pieces of masonry lay strewn everywhere. The place reeked of beer where the contents leaked out of crushed barrels.

She looked around frantically for Charlie.

“Charlie, Charlie?” She paused to listen. Was that a groan? The eerie noises spooked her. Whooshing, whistling sounds caused by wind blowing through the small gaps. Creaking timbers. The pitter-patter of small stones and dirt falling into the cellar from God alone knew where.

In the furthermost corner of the cellar she spied a leg and arm poking out. “Charlie!” She touched him. He was unconscious, not dead, because he did not have the cold rigidity of death.
Who would know better than me what death felt like? I’ve lived, eaten, and slept with it for months
.

A couple of barrels jammed together by a pile of debris wedged his body against the wall. Carefully she removed the rubble. His leg, buried below the knee, was trapped under a huge slab of concrete.

“Charlie.” In the dimness, his face appeared uninjured except for a few cuts and abrasions. She ran her hand down his body and nothing seemed to be broken. What she could feel of his injured leg appeared warm. No way could she lift the concrete, even if she was prepared to risk loosening the beam.

She shook him. “Wake up.”

“Bloomin’ bombs. Bloomin’ bloody bombs.”

The swear words were music to her ears. She crawled over to one of the leaking barrels to moisten her handkerchief. After removing the dirt and grime, she saw a nasty cut over one eyebrow and a lump on the side of his head. Going back to the barrel, she saturated her hanky, then squeezed the beer into his mouth. Finally, his eyes flickered open.

“Oh, Jesus,” he moaned, “me bloody leg.”

“No, Amy. How are you?” she teased.

“Amy. Blimey, what are you doing down here?”

She helped him drag himself into a sitting position, rolling an undamaged barrel behind his back for support.

“I came to keep you company until the army engineers arrive.”

“You’re daft. Get out of here. The whole joint could cave in.”

“I’m not leaving until you do. The police think it will be another couple of hours before the sappers come, so you’re stuck with me. Olive couldn’t fit through the hole.”

“My pot belly probably wouldn’t either. Go back. I’m not worth risking your life over.”

“Don’t be silly. I came down to make sure you weren’t badly injured.” She took his hand between her own. “I’m a nurse. I couldn’t leave you here on your own, not knowing how badly injured you were.”

“But the bloody building could come down at any moment.”

“It’s safe,” she lied, wondering whether in fact she would be able to get out now even if she wanted to. “As long as no one touches anything, we’ll be all right. At least we won’t die of thirst.”

“Nah, plenty to drink down here. Wouldn’t mind a beer right now. I thought the cellar would be safer than running out into the street. Never expected to take a direct hit. Thank God the others didn’t come with me. No one else hurt?”

“Not from the pub. There’s lots of damage, though. The place is wrecked. Dorry dashed over to get Olive. She said everyone was safe except you. Quite a few people have been killed in the neighborhood.” She told him about yesterday.

“Those poor, bloody Dawson kids. Molly was a stupid, useless damn woman. Would sleep with any man who offered her a bed for the night, and gave her a kid often as not, too. Didn’t worry too much about the poor little buggers. Left them for a couple of days at a time, often. Olive kept them alive.”

“I know. I went with her a few times. I’ve never seen anything so dreadful. Molly virtually sold little Essie to some laundry owner. O’Toole, I think.”

“A bad bastard. Poor little sod is better off dead.”

A sudden creaking sound was followed by the noise of falling masonry.

Charlie grabbed her arm and shook it. “Please, Amy, go back while you can.”

“No.”

“I’m an old man. My life is half over. You’ve got a bright future ahead of you.”

“No, I haven’t, not without Mark,” she whispered sadly.