The Forget-Me-Not Summer (39 page)

Avril stood very still for a moment, her heart thundering. That had sounded far too close for comfort. She fumbled in her basket, found the torch and switched it on. Instead of being brilliant white, the torchlight was pale and yellowish, a sure sign that the battery was on its way out, but the ceiling above them, though it was raining dust, was not actually coming down. Not a direct hit, then, but something pretty near. With trembling fingers she found the matches Pete always kept within easy reach. After four or five attempts she shook the lamp and realised that it was almost out of oil. She knew Pete kept a small supply somewhere in the cellar, but could not remember exactly where, and she did not want to use the torch more than she must. She decided she would just nip over to the door, climb perhaps halfway up the stairs and see what was happening at ground level. Cautiously, she swung the beam of her torch across the children. They were both sound asleep and she guessed that if they could remain slumbering through the sort of
raid the city had just suffered the chances were they would sleep the clock round; at any rate she need not worry about them for the time being.

Cautiously, she went across to the heavy oak door, put her hand on the handle and gave an experimental shove. It did not move. She stopped, puzzled. Had she locked it after the children's arrival? For that matter, had she locked it after Gary had gone in search of Timmy? But she knew very well, really, that the last thing she would have done was lock this door. How else could Gary possibly come back triumphant, with Timmy in his arms? And what if some other unfortunate soul should be looking for a place of refuge? No, she knew very well that neither she nor Miranda, nor Pete, would ever lock the door whilst they were inside, or if a raid was in progress. She gave the door another push; it was like pushing at Snowdon. Before she could stop herself, Avril hurled herself at the door, beating uselessly at the stout panels, and even as she did so she heard a crashing rumble and part of the ceiling – thank God it was the far end – came down. Bricks, rubble, a wooden beam and, oddly, a bicycle came crashing into the cellar. Avril glanced involuntarily at the two children, but though Dickie stirred and muttered neither child woke.

Relieved of one worry, for she had no wish to have two terrified children on her hands, Avril made herself sit down once more, and began to think logically. Gary knew she was here. Miranda, Steve and probably Pete Huxtable would guess. As soon as the raid was over and there was daylight the rescue services would begin their unenviable task. Damaged buildings would be cordoned off for fear somebody would try to enter and be trapped
beneath falling masonry. The army would be brought in from Seaforth Barracks to sift through the rubble in search of survivors. From the glimpse she had already seen, Avril guessed that the fire service would be fully occupied and would probably be requesting aid from as far away as Manchester and Blackpool. And there must have been mayhem amongst the shipping, which meant mayhem also in the docks and the warehouses which clustered close to the water. Sooner or later Pete would come back from his uncle's place on the Wirral to find, judging from the great pile of rubble at one end of the cellar, that his beautiful shop and the flat above it were no more. And he would immediately remember the basement. It might take a fair while to move the rubble which was so effectively blocking the door, but it would be done at last.

Avril's wavering torch beam was getting fainter, so she switched it off, hoping that as soon as it was daylight – and daylight could not be long in coming now – a beam of it would somehow enter the cellar. Gingerly she crossed to the pile of rubble and stared upwards with watering eyes, for the dust here was dreadful, catching at your throat, making you long for fresh air as one usually longs for a cool drink. But to her disappointment no light came from above. Sighing, she returned to her chair but did not attempt to light the lamp or switch on the torch. Time might drag its feet, but even as she had gone over and tried the door she was pretty sure she'd heard the all clear, and she thanked God that her ordeal would soon be over. Volunteers would dig her out quickly, especially when Gary told them that there were two small children buried with her in the cellar beneath the cycle shop. Yes, release would come quite soon now.
And since she was terribly tired she leaned back into her chair and let sleep overcome her.

A soft whimpering awoke her. For a moment she thought that it was Timmy, but then the whimpering became a small voice. ‘Where is we, Dickie? Oh, Dickie, I's frightened.'

Immediately the events of the night sprang fully fledged into Avril's mind. The two children seeking refuge, Timmy bolting out of the basement and Gary going in search of him. And now that she was properly awake she could see a beam of light, dust-laden to be sure, but light nevertheless. It was coming from the hole in the ceiling above the pile of rubble at the far end of the basement, and far off and faint she thought she could hear voices. Hastily she fumbled in her pocket and produced the torch, clicking it on to reveal the two children, both now wide awake and sitting up, Dickie with his arms protectively around Maisie's small shoulders. ‘S'all right, nipper, the lady'll see us home now it's daytime,' he said reassuringly. He glanced curiously around the cellar in the faint torchlight. ‘You said you'd take us home, didn't you, missus? Can we go now? Our mam will be worried if Mrs Grimble has writ to say we've run off.'

Avril got rather stiffly out of the chair in which she had been sleeping, and took the last slice of cake out of the basket. She broke it in two, gave the children a piece each and then spoke reassuringly. ‘We can't go out just yet, because there's something against the door. I tried to open it earlier but it wouldn't budge, and I don't believe we should try to get out from where the daylight
is getting in because it wouldn't be safe. But Gary – the friend who was with me when you arrived – will tell the rescue people we're here, and they'll get us out in a trice, just you see.'

Dickie swallowed a mouthful of cake, then addressed his sister. ‘Do the warning, Maisie,' he commanded, and before Avril could ask him what he meant both children threw back their heads whilst from their mouths, shrill and demanding, came the sound, first, of the air raid warning and then of the all clear. It was so piercing that Avril, laughing, clapped her hands to her ears, whilst Dickie patted his little sister on the back and told her to take a deep breath and ‘give 'em one more go of the warning, just in case they've not noticed the first 'un.'

Avril laughed again, ferreted in the basket and produced the remaining boiled sweets. ‘You're a couple of little marvels,' she said admiringly, handing each child a Fox's glacier mint. ‘Yes, I hear voices; thanks to you, we'll be out of here in no time.'

Dickie chuckled, but Maisie turned wide eyes upon Avril. ‘I'd rather be out in five minutes than in no time,' she said. ‘I don't like it here. There's a funny sort of smell and my hair's all dusty.' The two children had been sitting up on the bunk bed but now Maisie cast aside the blankets, slid on to the floor and went towards the door. She gave it a kick with one small, wellington booted foot, and even as she did so the door began to tremble, and a man's cheerful voice hailed them.

‘You okay down there? We'll have you out just as soon as we can. Your feller didn't mention you'd got the red alert and the all clear down there as well.'

Avril was laughing and beginning to explain when the
door gave a protesting creak and opened six or seven inches. Maisie could have squeezed through, but the man's voice warned them to keep clear. ‘You aren't out of the wood yet,' he told Avril. ‘Let us clear the stairway. As soon as it's safe we'll tell you.'

Avril stepped back from the door. Dickie was dressing himself, Maisie was trying to struggle into the garments she had worn earlier and they were both clear of the door and able to see quite well now that daylight was pouring in through the increasing gap the rescuers were making. The work ceased for a moment while a flask of hot tea and some jam sandwiches were passed through and the three captives sat down on a bench and had what Avril called their breakfast, though the alarm clock had disappeared when the end of the cellar had collapsed so she had no idea of the time.

It seemed ages before the man who had been chatting reassuringly to them as he worked announced that they might come up now, and Avril and the children crawled up the steep stairs, getting filthier with every step, but not caring. What did a bit of dirt matter? What mattered was escaping back to normality. They were helped up the last few steps and stood in what Avril imagined had once been the courtyard, though it did not resemble its old self in any way. She cleared her throat and touched their rescuer's arm. ‘Where's my pal, the man who told you we were in the basement?' she asked. ‘Is he – is he hurt? Is that why he didn't dig us out himself?'

‘That's right, queen, but he ain't too bad. Stood too close to a collapsing building. A brick got him on the noggin' – head wounds bleed like fury – and they reckon he's bust his arm, but he still wanted to dig you out himself; they
had to all but carry him to the ambulance, protestin' all the way . . . ah, here he comes! Is that your feller, the one with the bandage round his head and his arm in a sling?'

Avril ran towards the approaching figure. ‘Did you find Timmy?' she asked anxiously. ‘Oh, Gary . . .' Her voice faded into silence as Pete Huxtable pushed impatiently at the bandage which hid his dark hair and obscured the sight in one of his eyes. Then he put his free arm round Avril, and gave her hand a squeeze.

‘Thank God you're all right. I were that worried I tried to stop them takin' me up to Casualty, only one of the wardens said they'd heard voices . . .' He shuddered. ‘And now you'd best come wi' me, queen.'

He led her back into what had once been the courtyard and over to a silent figure lying with several others on the cobbles.

Avril gasped. ‘Is he much hurt?' she asked anxiously, seeming not to realise the significance of the sheet which Pete was gently folding back to reveal Gary's dirt-smudged face and, as the sheet was pulled lower, the little dog curled up in the crook of his arm.

‘I'm sorry, queen,' Pete said quietly. ‘I know he were your feller and a better man never lived, but there's nowt we can do about it. I reckon he went out after Timmy, ain't that so? God, I'm goin' to miss Timmy.'

Avril gulped. Tears, she knew, stood in her eyes, but she could not let them fall in front of the two children who had followed her into the courtyard and were now pressing close to her. She turned away blindly whilst beside her Maisie's voice, sounding slightly puzzled, came to her ears. ‘Is they sleepin'? The feller and the little dog? They ain't hurt, are they?'

It was too much. Avril gulped back the tears, but could not answer the child's innocent question. Instead, she said huskily: ‘Time to get going, little 'uns. If there's a tea room still standing I'll buy us some breakfast – oh no I won't, I haven't got any money, but I dare say someone will lend me a couple of bob – and then we'll have to make our way to Bootle.'

As she left the courtyard – what had once been the courtyard – she tripped and would have fallen but for Pete Huxtable, who grabbed her arm and pulled her to a halt. ‘There's a WVS van at the end of the road what'll feed and water you for free,' he said. He lowered his voice. ‘And if it's any comfort, love, they would neither of 'em know a thing. Blast's like that; it kills without leaving so much as an eyelash out of place. Who are your little friends, anyway?'

He was interrupted. ‘Oh, thank God! When I saw the flat and the shop so badly damaged, with the roof gone and the windows all out, I thought . . . but of course I should have realised you'd have all gone to the basement as soon as the raid started. Steve and I spent the night in the big shelter near the Grafton Ballroom on West Derby Road. Where's Gary? That guy's incredible. I bet he went straight out and started helping the rescue teams . . .'

‘Steady, Miranda; Gary's bought it,' Pete said with a brusqueness Avril had never heard in his voice before. ‘And I'm afraid Timmy . . .'

Miranda put both arms round Avril and hugged her tightly. Tears ran down her face and mingled with the dirt. ‘Oh, my love, I'm so sorry,' she whispered. ‘I won't ask you what happened, because I can guess. Let's find
a tea room where we can take stock.' She suddenly seemed to notice the children for the first time, both now clinging to Avril's skirt, and raised her brows. ‘Who the devil are they?'

‘They were in the basement with me when – when the place collapsed,' Avril said wearily. ‘We're takin' them – I mean I'm takin' them – back to Bootle, to find their parents. Where's Steve, by the way?'

‘Fighting fires down by the docks; there are several warehouses ablaze, and someone's reported an unexploded bomb. And you can forget the
I'm
takin' the children, because that
should
be we, since I don't intend to let you go off by yourself. And then I suppose we shall have to think about finding a place in a hostel. Incidentally, your beloved workplace has been badly damaged and may not be fit for work again for many weeks, if it ever is again . . .'

Avril cut across her friend's sentence. ‘I'm not stayin' in the city. I couldn't bear it. I've already applied to join the WAAF; I shall pretend I got a letter of acceptance but it went up in smoke at the same time as the flat in Russell Street. You'll have to do whatever you think best, but I just want to get away from here.'

Beside them, Pete nodded his bandaged head in agreement. ‘That's right, chuck, get right away from here, put it all behind you and start a new life in the air force. I'm goin' to do the same, though I guess they won't take me until my arm's out of plaster and the stitches are out of my head. But keep in touch, won't you?' His glance encompassed both girls but Miranda knew he was thinking of Avril. ‘We'll all have to report to an ARP post, see if they can find accommodation for us for a few
nights. I don't mean to trek tonight; I reckon I'll be needed here.' Very much to Avril's surprise he gave each girl a kiss on the cheek before turning away and disappearing in the direction of the nearest ARP post.