Ellie

by Lesley Pearse

  ‘Swimming, climbing, train-spotting,’ Eric said with a sneer. His father owned the Bridge Inn and he thought he was ‘it’.

  ‘I can do all of those,’ she lied. In fact she had never tried to swim and, although she was good at climbing, train-spotting looked as boring as watching grass grow.

  As they exchanged glances, Bonny got her gifts out of her pockets. ‘I brought you some fags,’ she said. ‘Sorry there isn’t one for everyone, but we can share them. The chocolates have got real whisky in them.’

  The liqueurs weren’t a great success. Little Michael spat his out immediately, the others pulled faces. But the cigarettes were received by the five older boys with respect. Bonny took a deep drag on one when it was offered to her and managed not to cough.

  A lull in hostilities at least gave Bonny a chance to weigh up the opposition. She felt certain Jack and Tom would come down on her side if she could just think of something to impress the others with.

  ‘I can speak German,’ she blurted out. ‘I bet none of you can!’

  ‘Speak some then,’ Peter Samms said.

  ‘Schildkrotensuppe, rinderbraten, sauerbraten,’ she said quickly.

  The shocked expression on their faces made her want to giggle.

  Aunt Lydia had taught her those few words. She had been telling Bonny about a holiday she’d had once in Germany and as she mentioned things she’d eaten Bonny got her to repeat the words merely because she liked the sound of them.

  ‘What does it mean?’ Jack said, suitably awed.

  ‘If you come any closer I’ll kill you,’ Bonny said. ‘Think how useful that would be if any Germans came here.’

  They got her to repeat the phrase several times, each trying it out for themselves.

  ‘We could have it as a club password,’ she suggested. ‘Please let me join?’

  They passed around a bottle of lemonade while they thought about it, each taking four gulps. Bonny wanted to wipe the neck before putting her mouth on it, but she guessed such an action would look too girlish.

  ‘You’ll have to do a test,’ John Broom said. He was the smallest of the older boys and very thin. Bonny remembered hearing that his father, who had now been called up, used to knock him about. ‘We all did one.’

  ‘What sort of test?’ Bonny felt a tremor of fear.

  ‘Climbing,’ Eric said. ‘See how far you can get up the chalk cliff.’

  Bonny gulped. The chalk cliff was just twenty yards from the train and as high as four or five houses. She’d attempted to climb it soon after her arrival but couldn’t manage more than a few feet.

  ‘No, not the cliff,’ Jack said, shaking his head. ‘Mrs Baker will see her and she’ll go barmy. A tree will do.’

  All eight children were just passing the stationhouse when Mrs Baker leaned out of the bedroom window and bellowed at Jack.

  Mrs Baker was a good sort: fat, motherly and jolly. But although she was mostly good-natured and kindly, she was fearsome when roused and there was no way they could ignore her.

  ‘Come you here,’ she yelled, her tone and red face suggesting she’d discovered something. ‘Tom and Michael too.’

  ‘I bet she’s found that Red Chief Shag tobacco,’ Tom said, looking worried. ‘I knew we ought to’ve brought it out with us.’

  ‘We’ll wait down by the river,’ Eric said quickly, afraid Mrs Baker might tell his mother. ‘I’ll test Bonny.’

  It was on the tip of Bonny’s tongue to say she wasn’t allowed by the river, but under the circumstances she couldn’t. Without the Easton boys with her for support she felt very vulnerable.

  Bonny felt a bit out of it as the boys ran down the hill pretending to be Spitfires. All the boys at school were mad about fighter planes: they collected pictures from magazines and cigarette cards and when one went overhead they went wild with excitement. But not to be outdone, she too spread her arms wide and copied the droning noise the boys were making.

  ‘Cor, the river’s high,’ John said gleefully as they approached it. ‘And look how fast the current is!’

  The river had always looked scary to Bonny. Aunt Lydia described it as treacherous and warned her hundreds of times not to go near it. The bridge was very long, with a series of low grey stone arches. Usually there was just enough clearance for a small boat to go beneath them and ducks and swans often rested on the tiny islands of weed growing round each of the supports. But until today it had been raining solidly for almost a week and now the river was so high there was perhaps only a two-foot gap between water and arch. The islands were completely submerged. The fact that there were no ducks and swans swimming suggested that the swift current was too much even for them.

  As if further proof were necessary of how dangerous the river was, all the rowing boats were pulled up high on the bank by the teahouse. The grass was sodden and there wasn’t anyone taking tea outside, even though the owner of the teahouse had put cloths on the tables hopefully.

  ‘Reckon you can swim in that?’ Eric asked Bonny, his narrow face alight with malice.

  ‘It’s a bit cold for swimming,’ Bonny offered, hoping that sounded as if she might be game for it at a later date.

  ‘Girls are soft,’ Eric sneered. ‘I’ve swum in it when it’s been higher than that.’

  Bonny guessed this was a lie. ‘The test was supposed to be climbing a tree,’ she retorted. ‘Find me one!’

  ‘This’ll do,’ Peter shouted from over to their right by the bridge, pointing out a sycamore tree growing close to the water’s edge.

  Bonny sighed with relief. It might be big but it was an easy one, with plenty of low branches.

  ‘Well?’ Eric said insolently, fully expecting her to back off.

  ‘Okay.’ Bonny shrugged her shoulders. ‘How high do you want me to go?’

  ‘Start climbing and we’ll say when we’re satisfied,’ he said.

  Bonny ran to the tree, shinned up twelve or fourteen feet effortlessly, then paused as she reached a wide branch to look down at the boys.

  All four of them looked stunned. Eric’s mouth was hanging open and Bonny felt triumphant.

  ‘Shall I go on?’ she shouted down.

  Eric scowled in irritation. He sensed John and Colin were coming round to this kid and he knew by the way she’d climbed up that far that she could get a great deal further. ‘No,’ he yelled back. ‘Go right along that branch you’re standing on.’

  Bonny looked. The branch went right over the water, the leaves on the end reaching the far side of the first bridge arch. She didn’t like the thought of going out over water, but the branch was a very thick one.

  ‘Okay,’ she agreed.

  The need to show-off got the better of her. Instead of sitting down astride the branch and shuffling along, she put out her arms like a tightrope walker and began walking.

  Bonny had always had good balance, and since her sandals had crêpe soles there didn’t seem to be anything to fear. As long as she didn’t look down into the river, she could do it easily.

  John Broom looked up at Bonny balancing precariously on the high branch and he felt sick. She was such a little girl, however much she swaggered and showed off. Until Jack had befriended him he’d always been ignored by Eric and Peter and he’d had to do things he wouldn’t normally dream of doing to be accepted by the gang. He guessed Bonny was doing this for exactly the same reason and he didn’t like it. The branch was bending with her weight, and he guessed how strong the wind was up there by the way her hair was blowing around. One false step and she could fall in.

  ‘Sit down,’ he called out. ‘It’s dangerous.’

  ‘I like danger,’ she called back. ‘I bet none of you would dare do it.’ She felt elated, already imagining this reported back in the playground. The boys were bound to accept her as a new gang member now.

  But a gust of wind startled her. She glanced down and saw she was way out over the river. All at once she was scared, wanting to sit down, but there was nothing to hold on to while s
he lowered herself.

  John saw her hesitate and knew instinctively she’d lost her nerve. This wasn’t a harmless game any longer, but a very dangerous situation. ‘Just stay there,’ he yelled out. ‘I’ll come up and help you back.’

  ‘I told you girls couldn’t climb,’ Eric sneered as John started to climb up the tree, and walked away in disgust.

  Peter and Colin were rooted to the spot. Like John, they could now see the real danger. The river was swirling past the bank at a ferocious speed: if she fell she’d be washed away, however good a swimmer she was.

  ‘Stay still,’ Peter called out. ‘John’s coming up to help you. You done good Bonny, but don’t go no further.’

  As Eric reached the road he was angry. He wasn’t concerned if the kid was stuck in the tree, only that she’d spoilt the afternoon by turning up with her fags and chocolates. He put his hands in his pockets, hunched up his shoulders and began to trudge home.

  He was just walking under the railway bridge when Jack came running down from the station.

  ‘Where’s the others?’ he asked, slightly out of breath.

  Eric pointed back towards the river. ‘Fancy even thinking of letting a girl join our club,’ he spat out. ‘She’s stuck up a tree now, silly cow.

  ‘Which tree?’ Jack asked, aware if anything happened to Bonny he would get blamed by Miss Wynter.

  ‘The big one near the bridge.’

  Jack didn’t wait to hear anything more, he just bolted down the road. He knew the tree Eric meant and he remembered how close it was to the river.

  By now John had reached the branch Bonny was standing on. He sat down astride it and began shuffling along. ‘I’m coming,’ he reassured her. ‘Just stay very still till I reach you.’

  Bonny quivered with fear, her outstretched arms flaying wildly. The branch was vibrating beneath her feet now John was moving along it, but she couldn’t turn to him. The wind seemed to be getting stronger, blowing her hair across her face, and the rustling of leaves made her even more aware of how high up she was. The river below looked terrifying, swirling past so fast it made her giddy.

  ‘Don’t look down.’ John’s voice was hoarse with fright. ‘I’m nearly there.’

  As he grew closer, the branch vibrated, Bonny’s arms flayed even more wildly, her body swaying from side to side.

  ‘You’re shaking me,’ she shrieked, losing her balance altogether. Leaves brushed her right hand and she grabbed at them frantically, but as John moved again in one desperate attempt to grab her body, she slipped and toppled off the branch.

  Her scream was cut off suddenly by the splash as her body hit the water. John pushed leaves aside, peering down, but he couldn’t see her.

  ‘Get help,’ he screamed at his friends below. ‘Quick, she’ll drown.’

  Jack had just reached the grass leading from the road down to the river bank when he heard Bonny’s scream and saw the flash of red as she tumbled sideways into the water. He could see Colin and Peter teetering on the edge of the bank, not knowing what to do.

  ‘Get Alec from the Tollhouse,’ he yelled as he ran forward. ‘Quick!’

  He kicked off his plimsoles and leapt into the water without even thinking. He went right under, the water so icy it almost paralysed him, but he bobbed up again struggling for breath, looking around for Bonny. Jack couldn’t swim more than a few yards, and he’d only learnt to do that last September when he first arrived in Amberley as an evacuee, but it wasn’t necessary to swim now – the current was so fierce it was carrying him along.

  Peter bolted for Alec in the Tollhouse. Colin stayed on the bank, not knowing what to do. He was aware Jack wasn’t a strong swimmer and he couldn’t see Bonny at all.

  But then he saw a flash of red by the arch of the bridge.

  ‘Under the bridge,’ Colin screamed at Jack. ‘Grab her!’

  The weight of the water in his shorts was pulling Jack down, the water so cold he could barely move, but blindly he struck out, bobbing his head up to try and see.

  He saw what looked like a red cushion just going under the bridge and thrashed towards it. He knocked one hand on the underside of the arch, the current bashed him against the bridge support, and now it was too dark beneath the bridge to see anything.

  Jack was terrified. The water was so cold it hurt and he could see nothing but the thinnest arc of daylight ahead as his body was thrown from side to side by the current. A hidden rock beneath the water scraped his leg, the brickwork above him was too slimy to hold on to, and his lungs seemed to be full of water. There was nothing for it but to let the current wash him along. He couldn’t see anything, but his hands swept out in front of him, groping for Bonny.

  It was only when he reached daylight that he saw the flash of red again. Now free of the confines of the bridge he struck out in a desperate crawl towards her, forcing his frozen body to obey him. With one almighty lunge he reached her, clutching at the red material. With his last vestiges of strength, he jerked her up.

  Somehow he managed to turn her on to her back, treading water like mad to keep himself afloat. Their combined weight was sweeping them along even faster, and he was sure she was already dead because her head fell lifelessly back on his shoulder.

  ‘Hold on, son,’ Alec’s gruff voice boomed out. Only then was Jack able to turn his head far enough to see the man running along the bank holding a long boat-hook in one hand, a lifebelt in the other. ‘Try and catch the belt. I’ll grab you as you pass.’

  Alec tossed in the white ring so that it landed just behind them. Jack let go of Bonny with one hand and hooked his arm through it.

  ‘Good lad,’ Alec shouted as Jack managed to get a firmer grip again on Bonny. ‘Now try and get closer to the bank.’

  The security of the ring tucked beneath his arm gave Jack the impetus he needed and he managed a few frog-like movements with his legs towards the hook held out in front of him.

  ‘That’s it, lad,’ Alec yelled, catching his hook around the rope on the lifebelt. ‘I’ll haul thee in.’

  Jack’s strength left him just at the point when he felt Alec taking over. He felt himself being dragged along, and then a bump as the belt hit the bank.

  ‘Brave lad.’ Alec’s gruff voice sounded distant, but Jack knew the hand grasping his shirt collar belonged to him. ‘I’ve got thee now, never fear.’

  Jack was aware of other hands, felt himself slither up the muddy bank and land like a huge gasping fish on the grass of the meadow.

  ‘Have ye called the doctor?’ he dimly heard Alec say as someone wrapped a blanket round him. There were other voices too, familiar ones, yet he was too numb to recognise faces.

  ‘Get the lad into the warm.’ Alec spoke again and Jack felt arms lifting him.

  Then he saw Bonny. She was lying on the grass, Alec astride her small back, pressing, then lifting her shoulders. Her face was chalk-white and her eyes were closed.

  ‘Is shshshe dead?’ Jack asked, his teeth clattering like castanets.

  Jack didn’t know if there was a reply to his question. He just heard a ringing sound in his ears as he felt his knees go from under him.

  *

  Alec pumped away at the girl. All he knew of her was that she was an evacuee. He was certain she was already too far gone to resuscitate, but still he kept on.

  Alec had lived in Amberley his entire fifty-five years, except for his time in the Army during the First War. He owned the garage, but aside from mending cars and farm machinery, he could turn his hand to anything from bricklaying to first aid.

  This little girl wasn’t the first he’d hauled out of the river – during July and August there was always someone falling out of a boat. But now the river was still icy from the long bitter winter, and she’d been in there quite some time. He didn’t think he could pull her round.

  A small crowd had gathered, watching silently as spurts of water came out of Bonny’s slack mouth. Someone yelled that the doctor was on his way and then, just as he felt he
could do no more, Alec heard a gurgle.

  ‘That’s it, little ’un, breathe.’ Alec’s broad, weather-beaten face broke into a smile. ‘Come on, m’ little darlin’, breathe for old Alec.’

  ‘Oh Beryl, what am I to do now?’ Lydia sobbed against Mrs Baker’s plump shoulder. ‘Should I send her mother a telegram? Should I go up to London and tell them?’

  ‘Now, now,’ Beryl said comfortingly, smoothing Lydia’s hair back as if she were another of her charges. ‘They’s all right now, you just calm down and drink that sherry.’

  Both Jack and Bonny had been brought to the stationhouse, warmed up in a steaming hot bath and tucked into bed with two stone hot-water bottles apiece. Alec had gone up to the village to get Lydia, but it had taken some time to find her as she was out looking for Bonny.

  It was almost nine now. Tom was sharing Michael’s bed as Bonny was in his, and Mr Baker was out in the station, waiting for the London train. Lydia had spoken to both Bonny and Jack and pieced the entire story together, but now she was in a state of shock, trembling as she realised how close Bonny had come to death.

  Dr Noakes was of the opinion that it was little short of a miracle Alec had managed to resuscitate Bonny, and he was still concerned both children might develop a fever, or other complications.

  ‘What if Jack hadn’t been so quick-witted?’ Lydia said, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?’

  ‘He was a brave lad and no mistake,’ Beryl smiled. ‘He’s a good kid, best day’s work I ever done taking him in. But you mustn’t go tormenting yerself with might-have-beens, Miss Wynter. The good Lord saved her today for some reason and she won’t be going near no water again in a hurry.’

  ‘I’m a failure,’ Lydia said in a broken voice. ‘I didn’t keep a close enough watch on her. I didn’t even ask her who she was going to play with.’

  Beryl Baker’s heart was as big as she was. She’d raised five boys of her own and she had enough love to spare for twenty more. She excelled in emergencies; she didn’t flap, or sit in judgement. Lydia Wynter was hysterical and right now she needed mothering too.

  ‘You can’t watch them every minute of the day. I knows that,’ Beryl said soothingly. ‘Your Bonny’s a little monkey and twice as crafty. But maybe when she wakes up tomorrow and don’t feel so good, she’ll understand why we tell ’em the things we do.’