Bia's War (30 page)

“There was a harsh contrast
between that scene of Hell’s destruction and the people gathered at
the dock gates, which was the closest that they could get to the
centre of the fires. The crowd, mostly consisting of women and
children, made no noise at all as they waited for news, hoping
against hope that their friends and loved ones would be the people
who were saved from the inferno. They waited in absolute silence
while men could be seen silhouetted against the conflagration,
desperately trying to put out the blaze and search for
survivors.”

“It was easy to join the crowd,
melding with one of the groups as we all stood and stared at the
devastation. Our presence was accepted into the fold and we didn’t
have to answer any questions or give reasons why we too were
waiting for news. The shock emanating from the townsfolk was a
palpable entity, but it moulded us all together and Sam and I were
absorbed into the horror of the moment.”

“I could feel the tears drying
on my face in the heat from the conflagration, although I hadn’t
been aware that I was weeping. My sorrow was reflected in the faces
of the rest of the crowd, where shiny tear tracks were obvious on
so many of those faces, men and women alike, as we all waited for
news. It took a very long time before any of the fire-fighters’
efforts were rewarded by a reduction in the scale of the inferno
but, eventually, we could all see that they were finally winning
their fight against the flames. This realisation led to the first
sounds that any of the crowd had made that night. Although it
seemed impossible for the gathered throng to concentrate any harder
than they had been doing for hours, this first sign was greeted by
movement, almost as though we had all been holding our breath for
that moment and we collectively released it. It made a sound like a
gentle wind rippling through a field full of ripe corn and the
crowd, as a whole, moved slightly closer to the dock gates.”

“Not long after this, a man
appeared walking towards the gathered throng, carrying a bundle
wrapped in a blanket. He placed his bundle reverently on the
pavement and then looked about him at the crowd. He picked out a
face he recognised and headed towards it, gathering the whole
family about him as they listened to his news. He could be seen
shaking his head vehemently until the oldest member of the family
laid his hand on the fire-fighter’s arm and spoke a few words. The
fire-fighter nodded once and then led the old man to the bundle as
it lay on the pavement. He raised the blanket from its contents and
the old man staggered as he looked at what the blanket had
concealed. The fire-fighter dropped the blanket immediately and
supported the old man back to where his family were waiting for
him. The family gathered round and there was a lot of head-shaking,
until the group split apart and the whole family turned their faces
towards the town. The women were holding handkerchiefs to their
faces and the men looked at the ground they were walking on as they
made their way towards their home. The crowd parted willingly to
let them pass and many patted backs and shoulders in commiseration
as they passed, and then closed ranks again and looked towards the
docks.”

“The rest of us continued with
our vigil, once again standing in silence as we watched the black
figures of the fire-fighting teams moving amongst the broken teeth
of the buildings. We were all shivering in the cold, now that the
heat radiating from the fires was reducing, but nobody would give
up the self-imposed vigil until we had the answers we were waiting
for. This was when Sam turned to me and spoke for the first time in
what seemed like hours.”

“‘Do you think I should go and
help the rescue teams to see if I can do anything?’ he asked
me.”

“‘Please, don’t leave me alone
Sam,’ I wailed. ‘I can’t stand here on my own.’”

“‘There’s not much you can do
that they aren’t already doing.’ A man in the crowd said. ‘Stay
with the lass and keep her company. We all need our friends and
family with us tonight.’”

“‘He’s right, Sammy,’ I moaned.
‘I can’t stay here alone tonight. I need you with me.’” I could
feel panic rising inside me at the thought that Sam might leave me.
What if anyone asked me any questions? How would I answer them? I
didn’t know if I could hold it together if I was asked any
questions. I might make the authorities suspicious if I said the
wrong thing. To my great relief, Sam listened to the man and stayed
with me.”

“‘Don’t panic, Bia,’ he said,
soothingly. ‘I’ll not leave you alone. I just didn’t want to look
as though I wasn’t prepared to help. It might make me look
suspicious.’”

“‘It’ll look suspicious if we
both put too much effort into not looking suspicious.’ I answered,
quite tartly. I was astonished when Sam managed a small smile and
squeezed my hand under cover of my coat and shawl.”

“‘Good lass. I knew I could rely
on you if I started to go overboard with my acting.’”

“I couldn’t help but smile at
him and the wound tension inside me unrolled itself a little so
that I could breath. We carried on standing there; watching as more
and more fire-fighters and policemen came out from the docks,
carrying bundles in their arms which they placed, each as
reverently as the last, onto the pavement. Each one then looked
around for a relative and went and spoke quietly to them. Not many
wanted to view the mangled remains underneath those blankets, not
after watching the old man’s reaction at the beginning of the
rescue, so most people, once singled out, left the dockside either
to go home, or if home no longer existed, to go and stay with other
relatives.”

“It wasn’t long before the
pavement underneath the docks’ railings was filled with bodies, all
carefully concealed in the blankets which had been brought from the
cottage hospital on Harcourt Road and the crowd waiting at the dock
gates was reducing in size. Those of us who were left gathered
closer together, as though for warmth, but in reality what we
wanted was the comfort of the presence of others in the same boat
as us. The night was nearly over and the dawn light was just
starting to brighten the skyline over the sea when a policeman
carried out from the docks a small shape wrapped in a blanket. The
policeman placed this tiny parcel down on the pavement at the end
of the line of bodies and then straightened up slowly as though
this latest task was more than he could bear.”

“In the wash of light from the
dawn sky, I recognised him as a boy I had been at school with, by
the name of Evans. He was looking for a relative to match the small
body he had been carrying and, when his eyes met mine and he
started to walk towards me, I grabbed Sam’s hand and squeezed as
though my life depended on it.”

“‘Mrs Drinkwater?’ he asked, as
though we hadn’t known each other nearly all our lives. ‘I’m afraid
it’s bad news that I’ve got for you.’”

“That was all he needed to say.
Even though I, unlike the rest of the hopeful people gathered there
that night, already knew that my family were dead, it was as though
his words sent a signal to my brain and shut down the use of my
limbs. My legs gave way beneath me and I sank into the melted snow
and the ash of the road and rested my face in my hands. Breathing
was difficult, but I couldn’t stop sobbing to try and take a breath
properly. I could only moan Simon’s name and wish that the ground
would open up and swallow me whole.”

“Despite my sobs, I clearly
heard Ted Evans telling Sam that William had been found with Simon
and that there were two more bodies in what remained of the
warehouse.”

“‘It looks like the warehouse
took a direct hit, like, ‘cos nothing is recognisable in what’s
left of the place. There’s another two bodies in there, as well as
Mr Drinkwater’s. I don’t suppose you might know who they are?’”

“I heard Sam saying that Peter
was missing from home, but he had no idea who the other body might
belong to and I marvelled that he was cool enough to be able to say
all this and sound believable. Perhaps I had done the right thing
by collapsing, because I didn’t think I could have answered those
questions so well. Ted’s next words made me draw in the deepest
breath I had breathed in a long time.”

“‘The other body might belong to
Butcher Dennison. He was seen earlier in the evening with Mr
Drinkwater and the little boy. The butcher had heard noises coming
from the Drinkwater’s warehouse and thought that there may be a
burglar inside. He and Mr Drinkwater went off to try and catch him,
evidently, so they would all have been inside when the bombardment
started. One of the regulars in the Red Lion had heard them talking
about it.’”

“ ‘Aye, we heard that tale, so
Peter went off to bring Simon home, it being such bad weather and
so late.’ Sam agreed. ‘It must be fate that brought them all
together in that place and at that time, but it’s a very cruel
fate.’”

“Ted Evans muttered his
agreement and then turned back to the job in hand, after telling
Sam to ‘get that poor lass home’. We could finally leave the docks
and make our way back to the shop, for the umpteenth time that
night. Hands lifted me to my feet and many people patted me in
condolence or hugged me and then released me to go on my way. I
managed to utter some faint ‘thank you’s’ and then we were on our
way home.”

“I sobbed every step of the way
home. I wasn’t acting for the benefit of any who may have been
watching me. I wasn’t pretending that the news of the deaths of my
husband and son had come as a great shock to me. It was because I
couldn’t help it. It was almost as though I had only just found out
about their deaths. I had realised that I would never see or hold
Simon again; that he would never grow up into a man and have a
family of his own and I was totally bereft because of this
realisation.”

“Not once on that walk home did
I think about William. I had shut him out of my mind completely,
because the whole damnable business was his fault. If he hadn’t
gone off to war to stroke his own ego; if he hadn’t shielded
himself behind Dennison’s son so that the boy died; if Dennison
hadn’t found out about his cowardice and taken his revenge; if
William hadn’t been so stupid as to believe the pig butcher when he
had said that there was a burglar in the warehouse and so took my
son to his death; it all went back to William. I couldn’t think
about him without wanting to scream my hatred of him to the skies.
IT WAS ALL WILLIAM’S FAULT! So I shut him completely out of my
mind, otherwise I would have betrayed Peter and Sam. It was the
only way that I could cope that night.”

“So, slowly we made our way back
to Queen Street, through the quiet, freezing streets, even more
cold now that there was such a contrast between them and the heat
of the dockside and we let ourselves in through the side door of
the shop.”

“Annie was sitting out a vigil
next to the fire in the range. She had been crying for Peter while
we had been at the dock, that much was obvious from her haggard
face as she looked up as we entered. But she busied herself making
hot drinks for us, brushing aside any suggestion that she should go
to bed.”

“‘I’d not sleep,’ she declared.
‘There’s no point in my trying to sleep because my mind is so full
of what Peter did tonight. I keep remembering things that happened
to him when he was a child and I’ve thanked God a hundred times
tonight, at least, that He brought us together. I know that this is
the best outcome I could have hoped for, but I will miss him for
the rest of my life.’” And she put her face in her hands and wept
again for the son she had lost.”

“I gave her what comfort I
could, but I was also thinking back over the few short years Simon
and I had had together. I wasn’t as Christian in my attitude as
Annie was and I always came back to the same conclusion: that it
had all been William’s fault. His actions had affected so many
lives and never once in a good way. Everything that he had done had
had repercussions throughout our household and throughout our town
and yet he had never once given any thought to any other person
other than himself. What sort of an obituary was that for any human
being? I knew that if I continued to probe into these thoughts I
would send myself mad, but that first night I couldn’t help poking
at the nagging toothache with my tongue. Over the years since then
I have managed to regain my perspective on those events, but I have
still always come to the same conclusion. The whole thing was
William’s fault and if there is any justice in the afterlife he
will still be paying for his sins.”

Mrs Lymer’s face had hardened as
she talked about that night and Victoria realised that she was
still affected by what had happened. Could any mother ever forgive
the person who caused her child’s death or did the parents of
murdered children carry that depth of hatred with them until they
too died? She took hold of Nana’s hand and stroked it for her, not
speaking but hoping to convey her sympathy by touch. Nana was
staring into space, not aware of where she was or what Victoria was
doing. It was with a great effort that she brought herself back to
the present and smiled at her granddaughter.

“Would you make me a cup of tea,
please?” she asked. “Telling stories makes me very thirsty, you
know. It’s a good thing that I wasn’t employed to tell stories, I’d
have drunk the river dry every day!”

“It’s lunchtime.” Victoria
answered. “Will you have a chicken sandwich or perhaps a cheese and
tomato one?”

“I’m not hungry, pet, thank
you.” Nana said. “I’d just like a cup of tea and then we can finish
my story. We’ll be done before teatime and then I’ll have a good
long rest.”

“Ok.” Victoria acquiesced, not
wanting to quarrel with her grandmother, who was still looking very
frail.