When Skies Have Fallen

by Debbie McGowan

  ***

  The sirens sounded as they emerged onto the street; Arty and Jean stopped and frantically searched the hordes rushing to enter the station they had just exited.

  “Over there!” Jean shouted, pointing across to the other side of the street.

  Arty saw an arm wave, the flash of blonde hair, the happy blue eyes, the enchanting smile he had missed so much.

  Fighting against the current of people, Jean and Arty made it to Jim; Jean hugged him and kissed his cheek.

  “The shelter’s this way,” he said, grabbing both Jean and Arty by the hand and leading them along the street. As they turned the corner, Jim’s gaze met Arty’s. “Missed you,” he mouthed. Arty managed a smile and a nod in response. He had missed Jim more than words would convey, and if these turned out to be their very last moments on Earth, then he would be grateful they had spent them together. But in this chaos he could barely think; there were many air raid warnings at Minton, but they were orderly and controlled, not like this riot of panic, where one was as likely to be crushed underfoot by one’s fellow countrymen as be blown to smithereens by the Luftwaffe. In Minton, everyone knew what to do and where they should be. Here, in the midst of the city Arty no longer recognised, with sirens blaring and people running in all directions, the shouts of the ARP wardens, and the distant ack-ack of anti-aircraft guns, the only thing keeping him from falling to his knees in fear, was Jim.

  Jim led them through a door and into a dark passageway, pausing only to warn them of the stairs ahead that fell steeply into the pitch-black.

  “Where is this?” Jean’s breathless question resounded in the darkness.

  “An underground installation of the United States Signal Corps.”

  “Should we be in here?” Jean asked.

  Jim offered no response to Jean’s question, but instructed, “When you reach the bottom of the stairs go left.”

  The handrail slipped away and Arty’s knuckles connected with the cold, wet wall. The next step he took with his left foot hit level ground, jarring his knee, hard. He inhaled sharply, hobbling after the sound of Jim and Jean’s footsteps. There were other people further ahead, their hurried chatter indistinguishable from its echo.

  “Arty?” Jim called back.

  “Keep going,” Arty urged.

  “Hold on. I’m coming to get you.”

  The three of them had been in the dark long enough for their eyes to adjust, and Arty noticed that Jean had stopped ten yards in front of him. Jim ran back and with a large, strong arm gripped Arty around the waist. Air raid or no, Arty had never felt as safe as he did in that moment.

  “I think I can walk unaided,” he protested.

  “That may be so,” Jim agreed, but he didn’t move his arm away. “Can you stand?”

  Arty straightened his leg and pushed his foot to the floor. He yelped and clenched his teeth. “Hell’s bells,” he muttered. “What are we going to do about the contest?”

  “It’ll fix itself, I’m sure. You just need to rest.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  Jean had made her way back to the men. Without a word, she hooked her arm around Arty’s other side and the three of them set off again, slowly. With each hop, Arty’s knee jolted painfully, and he bit on his bottom lip to save crying out. As they neared the end of the passage, Jean released him and walked ahead to open the door.

  “Romantic reunion, huh?” Jim murmured into Arty’s ear, sending a shiver right through his body.

  “Sorry,” Arty said.

  “Not your fault. I should’ve warned you.”

  “You did.”

  “Hey, just humour me, all right?” Jim laughed.

  High above them at street level, the all-clear sounded.

  “Damn it. Don’t tell me I’ve got to climb those bloody stairs again,” Arty grumbled.

  “Well, you do, but not quite yet. I want to introduce you to someone. That’s why I suggested we meet where we did.”

  “Oh?”

  “My brother is an aide to the general.”

  “Joshua is here? In London?”

  Jim nodded. “He’s been here since Operation Overlord began.”

  “He’s high-ranking?”

  “No. He’s a civilian. A gifted mathematician.” Jim gave a self-effacing shrug. “He got all the brains.”

  Arty raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t do so badly for brains either. But I’d wager you got all the good looks.”

  Jim’s smile was unusually bashful. “Are you ready to move on?”

  With a nod of agreement, Arty once more leaned on Jim’s shoulder, grateful for his support, and the chance to be in his arms, albeit in far from ideal circumstances.

  Stepping through that door was like crossing from one world into another. Where the corridor had been dank, dark and oppressive, with oily puddles from the ground water trickling down the curved walls, the room they stood in was bright, spacious and warm. Two felt-topped tables placed next to each other formed a large square that took up most of the room, and every wall was covered in maps of Europe. Aside from the door through which they had entered, there were two more, and each time one opened, the buzz of activity followed the new arrival into the room. Soldiers and civilians, both men and women, came and went, perhaps as many as a dozen passing through, whilst Arty, Jim and Jean watched.

  As soon as the next person came into view, there was no mistaking that he was Joshua Johnson. As tall as Jim, though nowhere near as broad-shouldered, Joshua had the same golden blonde mane as his older brother, and the same bright blue eyes that twinkled with joy as he looked from Jim, to Arty, to Jean. An unlit pipe rested in the corner of Joshua’s thick-lipped mouth and in his tan cardigan and brown serge slacks he looked every bit as if he had just stepped away from a relaxing afternoon in his drawing room. He strolled lazily with hands in pockets, taking his time to reach their location. Not a word passed his lips as he inspected them up-close, just that same easy smile around the pipe.

  “Joshua, these are my friends, Jean and Arty,” Jim introduced.

  Joshua removed his pipe from his mouth, dropped it into his cardigan pocket, and held out his hand to Jean. She accepted and they exchanged a handshake and a kiss on the cheek. Joshua repeated his silent greeting with Arty, but with a nod and a smile rather than a kiss. He looked at his brother, and then back to Arty. Jim nodded.

  “Joshua’s coming to watch you dance tonight,” Jim said.

  Even though the words were directed at Arty, Jim continued to face his brother as he spoke. Joshua looked at Arty and Jean and nodded enthusiastically.

  “If I can still dance,” Arty said. He tried shifting some of his weight to his left leg and winced in pain.

  Joshua’s brow immediately creased in sympathy, and he beckoned to Arty, at the same time pulling a chair out from under the table.

  Arty grabbed the back of the chair and hopped around the side, gingerly bending his right knee whilst trying not to bend his left. Joshua pulled out a second chair, positioning it close enough for Arty to rest his injured leg on.

  “Thank you,” Arty said.

  Joshua nodded an acknowledgement and looked up to where Jim was standing behind Arty’s chair. Joshua tapped his left wrist and shrugged.

  “Not sure,” Jim said. “When Arty can move again.”

  Arty peered over his shoulder at Jim, who glanced down and smiled.

  “Joshua is deaf and dumb,” he explained.

  “Ah.” Arty turned to face Joshua again. Joshua smiled and with another carefree shrug pointed at his ears.

  “Dumb,” he said, the word only partially formed in sound, but very clearly shaped by his mouth. Joshua pointed at his head: “Not dumb.”

  Arty laughed. “Jim said you got all the brains,” he confided.

  Joshua nodded again and pointed at his brother. “He’s a dumb hoofer.”

  “Oh, here we go,” Jim groaned.

  Joshua went slack-jawed and made a few shuffling steps from side to si
de. “You,” he mouthed at Jim.

  “Arty and Jean dance too, don’t you forget.”

  “They’re not dumb,” Joshua argued.

  Jean and Arty were both laughing hard at Joshua’s impersonation. Jim pretended to glare at them angrily, but he was also laughing.

  “Get outta here,” he said, flicking his hand at Joshua.

  Even though the danger had passed, they stayed a short while longer, hoping it would give Arty time to recover. Joshua was good company: he was a very clever and humorous man, and for all of his mockery, his love and admiration of his older brother shone through.

  When the time came for them to leave, Joshua hugged Arty and said, “See you later, brother.”

  Overwhelmed, Arty managed only a tearful smile in response. Soon they would meet up with Sissy, and he just knew the second she set eyes on Jim she’d fall in love with him. But Joshua’s blessing was something Arty would treasure for the rest of his days.

  * * * * *