There'll Be Blue Skies (16 page)

‘Sally?’ Jim came thundering into the bedroom, trousers and sweater hurriedly pulled over his pyjamas. ‘It’s all right, girl. It’s not a raid, but a gas explosion.’

She crawled from beneath the bed, still holding a sobbing Ernie. ‘Gas?’

Jim nodded as he drew back the curtains to reveal a smoke-laden sunrise. ‘At the other end of the street.’ He cocked his head at the sound of the fire engine bells. ‘Looks like the fire brigade is on to it, but the neighbours are going to need help, Sally. Come down and settle Ernie with the other boys. Peggy’s already gone to see what she can do, and it’s all hands on deck.’

Ernie seemed to be over his fright and was quite happy to be with Bob and Charlie in the basement. Sally left them all wide-eyed and excited by the fuss and went to quickly check on her machine and the needlework. She was thankful she’d covered it all, for the dust was thick on everything.

Ron was in the kitchen – still wearing his tin hat – making tea and scraping margarine on bread. ‘Where’re Jim and Peggy?’

‘Jim’s gone to help clear the damage. Peggy’s out rounding up everyone who might or might not need help, and to check on next door. I’m on cookhouse duty.’

Ron slopped boiling water into the teapot, and Sally stopped him pouring it into the cups until the leaves had steeped. She placed the cosy over the pot and gave it a bit of a swill to help it on its way. ‘Is the damage very bad? Was anyone killed?’

‘There’s three of them in hospital, but only with minor injuries,’ he replied, eyeing the empty milk bottle. ‘Let’s hope the milkman isn’t late, or we’ll have to go without.’

Sally hurried outside and was met by the stench of burning, and the pall of thick smoke that stung the eyes and the back of the throat. It was barely dawn, but even in this twilight, the scene was stark and made her gasp in horror and disbelief.

The two houses at the end of the terrace were gone – a gaping hole full of smoking rubble the only reminder they’d ever been there. Glass had shattered in most of the windows nearby, and the lovely lanterns at the bottom of the steps were ruined.

The end of the street was made impassable by the rubble that had fallen across it from the house opposite the explosion site. Its chimney stood like a forlorn sentinel over the exposed bedrooms and stairways where furniture stood incongruously in place and pictures still hung from the walls. There was even a vase of flowers on a table which was still covered in a cloth that fluttered in the breeze.

As she stood on the pavement and watched the frantic efforts of the firemen and wardens who were clearing rubble and searching for victims, she could see that a streetlamp had been bent by the force of the explosion so that it almost kissed the rubble that lay strewn beneath it, and black cables had been exposed which now twitched and sparked like fat electric snakes.

Sally wondered by what miracle no-one had been killed. The devastation was shocking, changing the streets for ever – but this must be nothing compared to the damage caused by an actual air raid, and the thought terrified her.

‘Sally, can you help me, dear?’ Peggy was clambering over the rubble, her arms around two women. ‘They need to be indoors and getting warm.’

Sally could see that both women were in shock, and she gently helped them up the stairs and into the kitchen, settling them by the fire. ‘Can you make more tea?’ she asked Ron, who was sitting down cleaning his rifle. ‘Only, Peggy’s on a rescue mission and there’s at least five more people to bring in – and that’s without the firemen and the men helping to clear the rubble.’

She dashed back out again and coaxed the shell-shocked, bruised and battered people to leave the ruins of their street for the warmth and comfort of Peggy’s kitchen.

‘I’ll set up a couple of trays of tea and take it out to the men. They must be exhausted.’ Sally found as many cups and mugs as she could and poured the tea. ‘We’re out of milk,’ she said. ‘We’ll have to use the powdered stuff.’

‘We haven’t any sugar either,’ said Peggy, glaring at the empty bowl in front of Ron. ‘How many times have I told you, Ron? The sugar’s hard to come by – you can’t keep putting four teaspoons in with every cup you drink.’

‘Comes to something when a man can’t have a decent cup of tea,’ he grumbled.

‘No sugar, you say?’ Jim had appeared in the doorway, his face already streaked with soot and sweat. ‘I’ve a solution for that.’

Peggy gasped as he returned from the cupboard under the stairs with two full bags in his hands. She snatched them from him before her neighbours could see and quickly stowed them on the marble shelf of her walk-in larder. ‘Where did you get them?’ she hissed, her tone furious, her glare accusing.

‘Sure, and they were given me in return for a bit of a job I was doing,’ he muttered, not quite meeting her gaze.

‘And what job was that, Jim Reilly?’

‘A bit of heavy lifting for old Mrs Smith down at the grocer’s.’ He winked at her and tapped his nose. ‘It always pays to make friends in the right places, Peggy. Especially when there’s a war on.’

‘I hope you’re not lying to me,’ she whispered furiously.

‘As if I would, me darlin’ girl.’ He grabbed her and planted a sooty kiss on her cheek.

She shook him off. ‘If I believed that, I’d believe anything. I’ve got my eye on you Jim Reilly, so be warned.’ She quickly topped up the sugar bowl and picked up one of the trays. ‘Come on, Sally, let’s get this tea outside before it grows cold.’

Sally saw the swift, knowing look pass between Jim and Ron, and knew Peggy was right to be suspicious. But she said nothing and, with the other tray of cups, followed her outside.

‘Well,’ breathed Peggy, ‘that’s what I call perfect timing.’

The milkman was at the end of the street, his large horse patiently waiting as he took the crates off the back of the dray and carefully placed the bottles on each doorstep. ‘Morning, missus,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Want me to take these in for you as you’ve got your hands full?’

‘Thanks Alan. Ron will make you a cuppa if you want one.’

‘Nah. I’m a bit behind this morning. What with all that racket with the sirens last night, the cows took a while to round up and get into the dairy to be milked. Skittish they were, and I can’t say I blame ’em.’

Peggy nodded and smiled and hurried away. ‘Alan Jenkins would talk the leg off a donkey if you let him,’ she muttered, as they picked their way over the rubble. ‘But he’s a nice man and works hard. I hope his cows are all right.’

Sally grinned and balanced the tray as she made her precarious way over the rubble to the knot of men who were trying to clear it and repair the water pipe that was shooting a fountain over everything. She and Peggy were greeted enthusiastically, tea was gratefully drunk, and cigarettes lit as they took a well-earned break.

There were two cups left on the tray and Sally sidestepped a large boulder in an attempt to reach the old man who’d refused to leave his shattered doorstep.

He came from nowhere, knocking into her legs so she lost her balance, the tea tray flying out of her hands to crash on the concrete. Sally teetered and would have fallen hard on to the treacherous masonry if a strong, filthy hand hadn’t grabbed her coat and yanked her backwards. She landed in his lap, and into a steely embrace.

‘Looks like the tea’s gone for a burton, and I was looking forward to that,’ he murmured in her ear. She recognised his voice immediately, could feel his arms tightening round her, pressing her back against his chest – but she seemed to have lost the ability to move, and her focus remained on the shattered china and dented tin tray.

‘I seem to be making a habit of rescuing you, Sally Turner,’ he drawled, his voice deep and pleasant against her cheek, his breath stirring her curls.

‘I wouldn’t need rescuing if you didn’t barge into me,’ she replied, trying to wrest herself from his grip.

‘How was I to know you were standing in my way?’

‘You should look where you’re going.’ She finally managed to stumble from his embrace, dusted down her coat and angrily turned to face him. The fury died as she became mesmerised by the intensity of those laughing blue eyes sparkling in that dirty, smoke-streaked, ridiculously handsome face.

‘Well, I would have,’ he replied, dusting himself off and getting to his feet, ‘but it’s difficult when you’re trying to crawl backwards out of a hole.’

She looked at where he was pointing. There was indeed a hole she hadn’t noticed before, and it seemed to go beneath the rubble to the basement of one of the ruined houses. ‘Do you always have an answer to everything, John Hicks?’ she said, cross that once more he’d got the better of her.

‘Ah, so you remember my name,’ he said, and grinned.

Sally noticed how his smile merely intensified the blue of his eyes. ‘Don’t let that give you no ideas,’ she muttered, the heat rising in her face as she realised everyone in the street was watching them. She bent to pick up the shards of china and the tin tray – she couldn’t think straight with him looking at her like that.

‘Let me carry this,’ he said, taking the tray. ‘I don’t trust you to get to the end of the street without an accident.’

‘I’m perfectly capable …’

‘I’m sure you are, but I’m the fireman in charge of this area, and my word is law.’

She looked up at him and tried not to giggle. ‘You really think you’re something, don’t you?’

‘I have my moments,’ he replied. ‘Here, take my arm, and watch out for that bit of rusty wire sticking out of the concrete.’

She refused the offer of his arm and carefully picked her way over the rubble. ‘I can take that from ’ere,’ she said firmly, grabbing the tray and making the broken crockery rattle.

‘Before you go,’ he said hastily, ‘I have something for you.’

‘I don’t accept presents from strangers.’

‘But this is special, and not really a present – and we’ve met twice, so we’re not really strangers now, are we?’

Intrigued, she turned back to him. ‘Go on then,’ she said, the smile tugging at her lips. ‘Show me.’

He reached into the inside pocket of his black uniform jacket and pulled out the colourful headscarf with a flourish. ‘Recognise this?’

She balanced the tray on her hip and reached for it in delight. ‘Where did you find it?’

‘It had blown across the road. I found it just as you were disappearing round a corner.’ He smiled. ‘I would have brought it sooner, but I didn’t know where you lived.’

She couldn’t quite look at him, for the knowledge that he’d carried it with him for at least eight weeks meant he’d hoped to see her again. ‘Thanks, ever so.’

‘Am I forgiven for manhandling you?’

She nodded shyly, suddenly overcome by the nearness of him and the way his voice seemed to touch something deep within her.

‘Then will you let me take you to the pictures tonight?’

‘I’m working,’ she replied.

‘Tomorrow, next night – the week after?’

‘I’ll think about it,’ she murmured, and almost ran back to the house and up the steps, slamming the front door behind her.

She put the tray on the hall table, stood there for a moment to catch her breath, and then peeked through one of the broken coloured panes at the side of the door. He was standing at the bottom of the steps now, talking to Peggy; as she studied him he seemed to know she was watching him and looked up, smiling straight into her eyes.

‘Oh, Gawd,’ she breathed, moving swiftly from the window. ‘What’s ’appening to me? I ain’t got a thought in me ’ead worth a light, and me ’eart’s going nineteen to the blooming dozen. And all because of some bloke who thinks he’s ’andsome.’

She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms round her waist, recalling how it had felt to be held so tightly and safely in his embrace. Could it be that he really liked her, and that this wasn’t a game?

‘Sal! Sal, where are you?’

Ernie’s piping voice brought her to her senses and she hurried to see what he wanted. It was all very well to have these silly moments, but there were more important things to worry about than John Hicks.

Anne and Martin had been with a group of other airmen and their girls, eating supper and dancing to the very good eight-piece band, when the word came from the airbase that there was a flap on. The men left hurriedly in the cars they’d managed to borrow for the night and, deciding she didn’t want to stay without Martin, Anne had begun the long walk home.

It had been as dark as pitch outside, with no street lighting and every window blacked out so tightly that not a chink of light showed to help her on her way. The stars had twinkled coldly, but the moon had been only an eyelash curve in the sky.

The sirens had gone off just as she was passing the school and was halfway home. Dithering over whether to make a run for it, or use the public shelter beneath the school playground, her mind was made up for her by the ARP warden, who insisted she used the shelter.

She’d hurried to where the stacks of sandbags shielded the door, and went down the concrete steps to join the residents of the nearby blocks of flats, and hoped it was another false alarm and that she’d soon be tucked up in bed.

Anne helped soothe the children she knew from the classroom, telling them stories and making shapes on the wall with her fingers. Once they’d calmed down, she comforted herself with thoughts of Martin.