Bloody Right

by Georgia Evans

  “Damn!” Mary muttered. “Gryffyth, we’ve got to get downstairs.”

  “You have a shelter?”

  “Yes, but it’s cold and miserable this time of year. Gloria uses the cupboard under the stairs.”

  He sat up, swinging his leg and stump over the side of the bed. “Can you give me a hand?”

  She helped him back onto his leg and pulled on her dressing gown and grabbed her slippers. “You go on down. I’ll bring the bed clothes. Gloria put an old inflatable mattress in there but didn’t have spare blankets.”

  They got down, Gryffyth retrieving both their coats from the kitchen floor. “A bit crumpled, I’m afraid,” he said as he pulled his on over his nakedness. It was a pity to spoil the view but he had to be freezing.

  “They’d be more crumpled if we’d slept on them.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of sleeping on them actually.”

  She hadn’t been either.

  As it turned out, they were glad of the coats. The inflatable mattress had deflated since the last air raid. They spread her coat out and squeezed inside the cupboard, covering themselves with the blankets.

  “I say, this is pretty cozy,” Gryffyth said, snuggling deliberately close.

  “We’ll keep each other warm.”

  “I think you’re already warm,” he replied, stroking her breast. “Should we try to keep our minds off what’s happening overhead?”

  Right now, not much was, but who knew? She’d never forget the hideous nights in Sheffield.

  “Scared?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She’d be lying to say anything else.

  “Let me distract you,” he said, sliding his hand down inside her dressing gown to stroke between her legs.

  This was utterly insane: making love in the cupboard under the stairs when bombs could be dropping any minute. On the other hand, if they did get one overhead, what better way to spend their possible last moments? “I love you, Gryffyth Pendragon,” she said, kissing him hard as she opened her legs to his caress.

  “This is going to be tricky,” he said.

  “We’ll manage.”

  They did. Rather nicely in fact.

  “Damnation!!” Howell Pendragon muttered at the first wail of the warning. “Just when I finally get you all alone, Jerry comes calling.”

  “We should have expected it,” Helen replied. “First clear night for days, and with a new moon.” Thing was they never did. Two or three undisturbed nights and you imagined it was over for the winter. “Where do we go?”

  “Down in the cellar. As long as you don’t mind sharing a mattress?”

  “Might as well get used to it, my love. What shall we take down with us? Got a torch? And let’s take the cocoa. How about some biscuits?”

  “How about we scarper and get under cover? Come on, Helen, give me those mugs and you turn on the light.”

  They took the stairs to the cellar. He had made it snug and, she noticed, there were two mattresses against the wall. “The other one’s Gryff’s,” Howell explained. “This one’s mine.”

  “He won’t be using it, will he?”

  “Woman,” he said, obviously fighting a smile that threatened to crack wide open. “You belong on my mattress. Come over here. Let’s practice being married.”

  Since that was what she’d had in mind from the start, why argue?

  They settled side by side, backs against the wall, and drew the covers over them. Odd blankets and with a strange smell. “A bit strong, aren’t they? When did you last air them?”

  “Never, Helen. They’re old horse blankets.”

  He was lucky she didn’t douse him with cocoa. “Horse blankets? Where did you find them?”

  “The Home Guard. Sir James donated them after he closed the stable. Thought they’d come in handy in an emergency. Then the Women’s Voluntary Service gave us a nice stack of pieced blankets they made from tailor’s swatches. Nice wool, they were, and clean. They were going to chuck these out and I took them home. Better than nothing. It gets cold down here.”

  Helen shook her head. “Well, Howell, you really know how to court a woman. Come and stay the night with me and we’ll spend it on the floor of the cellar, under old horse blankets.”

  “But you came, didn’t you? And stayed.”

  “You’re the only man in the world I’d do it for.”

  “Glad to hear that,” he said, and kissed her.

  She smiled. Kissing was good, but she fancied a whole lot more. “I had been hoping for smooth sheets and warm covers with soft pillows.”

  “I’ll see about that next time. Here,” he said, reaching to a ledge behind him. “Want an Osborne Biscuit? I might even have a couple of Lincoln Creams in here.” He put the tin on his lap and took off the lid. “Help yourself.”

  Cocoa and Osborne Biscuits wasn’t exactly Champagne and caviar, but given the time and the circumstances, nothing to be sneezed at. “Thank you, my love. There’s many worse places to be than safe here next to you.”

  “Think you could sleep? I’ll grab Gryff’s pillow if you like.”

  “Sleep? While I’m listening to hear if anything drops? No, let’s talk.”

  “Suits me. What do we talk about? When we set the date?”

  “Maybe if you…” she broke off, her senses alert. “They’re coming, Howell.” She grabbed his hand.

  He put his arm around her shoulders and held her free hand in his. He didn’t ask how she knew. She was Other. If she said the damn Luftwaffe was heading their way, he believed her.

  “Bloody hell,” Alice muttered, as the sound of the siren cut into the delicious, after-loving drowsiness.

  “Swearing, dear wife?” Peter asked.

  “Yes! No one’s here to tell except you. So…bloody, bloody hell.” She sat up and reached for the bedside lamp. “If Gran were here, we’d know if we should get out of bed or not.”

  “Might as well. It’s safer downstairs.”

  “While we’re at it, might as well get dressed. If there’s a raid, we’ll both need to go out.”

  They pulled on clothes and went downstairs, Alice grabbing their pillows, and Peter the eiderdown.

  Once in the kitchen, Alice put the kettle on and they settled under the kitchen table. More comfortable than the earth-floored cellar, and they’d decided it was the safest place. Nothing short of a direct hit would destroy the six-inch-thick oak table top.

  Once the kettle boiled, Alice made two mugs of Bovril. They sat side by side, the eiderdown wrapped around them, and waited for the sound of engines overhead.

  They’d barely settled when the first wave droned overhead and faded into the distance.

  “Wonder where they’re headed?” Peter said.

  Seemed selfish to wish they were headed anywhere but Brytewood. Wherever they were going, people would die. Alice grabbed Peter’s hand. She knew he’d never quite get over the nightmare of bombing in London when he’d been a CO locked in his cell in Pentonville. “You’re here now, darling. With me.”

  He kissed her. “I can’t believe what happened. That I get sent here and meet you and you love me.”

  “Believe it, Peter, I do.” A second and then a third wave passed overhead. Alice realized she was holding her breath and made herself breathe deeply. Seemed they might be lucky this time, but neither of them would relax, or sleep, until the all clear.

  A fourth wave came and went. London was really getting it tonight, or were they headed for Croydon and the airdrome? Or the barracks in Guildford? It could be any one of a dozen, a hundred places, including the munitions plant. Anywhere was a target.

  The next wave sounded smaller, but they seemed lower. Then came the barrage of explosions, loud, clear and terrifying.

  Somewhere close, maybe several places, had been hit.

  Alice didn’t wait for the all clear. Peter was even faster.

  “Where?” he asked.

  “Let’s head for the ARP post. They’ll know what’s happening.”

 
; Stopping only to put on coats and to grab their bags, they headed for the car.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The third explosion was so close it deafened Mary and sent plaster dust raining down on them as Gryffyth held her close. There was an awful sound of glass shattering, a great screaming thud that seemed to go on forever, followed by a series of bangs and thumps and the wall at their back shifted and settled back. After interminable minutes and even more plaster. Who knew so much could fall in a cupboard? There was quiet and the smell of dust and dirt.

  The lull didn’t last long.

  There was a string of loud thumps and a couple of smaller explosions but the house didn’t move any more.

  “Shit,” Gryffyth muttered. “Sorry, love,” he added.

  “Don’t apologize. I echo that sentiment. Shouldn’t we try to get out?”

  “Let me find the ruddy torch first. See what it’s like in here.”

  He found it. It looked bad, at least what she could see in the beam of light did. They were both covered with plaster and the eiderdown would never be the same.

  “At least it wasn’t a direct hit,” Mary said. They were still alive. She couldn’t help but worry about who wasn’t. Somewhere nearby had been hit. “It was close though. I think we should try to get out. If we can.”

  “I agree, love. Except we seem to be safe in here. Says something for the builder. They did a nice solid job back in those days.”

  Before she could reply there was another great thud, like a chimney or chunk of wall falling.

  They looked at each other in the gloom and burst out laughing.

  “Good old quality building!” Mary said, through her giggles.

  It was nothing to laugh over. The house might collapse over their heads any minute, but she’d just had the most perfect sex of her life and she was with the man she loved. There were far worse ways to die.

  Except, damn it, she wanted to live, to have a life with Gryffyth and bear his children. “Still want to marry me?”

  “Eh?” Alright, he was entitled to look dazed.

  “You asked me to, remember?”

  “Of course! You’re the one kept me dangling.”

  “No, I didn’t. Not dangling. I just wanted to think about it and I have. I’ve made up my mind. Yes!”

  She heard his intake of breath, his sexy little gasp and then he let out a great whoop and hugged her. “You will?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then let’s get the hell out of here.” He crawled over her and reached for the door knob. It turned and the door gave about an inch. “Drat,” he shook his head, kissed her and said. “Something’s blocking it. Won’t budge.”

  A wave of panic engulfed her. Were they trapped here for good? Of course not. The air raid wardens would be out and searching. Assuming a bomb hadn’t hit the ARP post. The thought turned her cold. Were they trapped here forever? What if the house collapsed completely, burying them alive?

  “Mary,” he said, “you’re shaking. It’s alright. I’m here.”

  His arms engulfed her as she leaned into him. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m such a ninny.” She could not let herself panic. They were safe. Well, marginally so. The house didn’t seem to be collapsing anymore, and she must not let herself get all het up. Panic was useless and pointless.

  “You’re not a ninny. You’re my love,” Gryffyth said. “I’m scared witless too, but we’ll get out of here. Tell me about Guernsey. We’re going to go there after the war. I’ll ask your father’s permission to marry you.”

  “Nice thought, Gryffyth, but I don’t want to wait that long. Also, he’s dead. Died when I was ten. Drowned. He was a fisherman and the boat went down. Took my uncle and cousin too.”

  “Oh! My God, Mary, how awful!”

  “It was, but we managed. My aunt was a teacher, and my mother ran a stall in the fishmarket. I used to help her during the holidays. I think that’s what made me decide to be a teacher. Selling fish is cold, wet work.”

  “They were all Sprites?”

  “Of course. We were female. My aunt had two younger sons. Fisherman too. They stayed, although what they’re doing now, I don’t know. Seems the Germans don’t let them take the boats out.”

  “You know, love, we’ve got to win this war.”

  “Well, I struck a blow against them last night.” Or was it the night before, now?

  “I hope you don’t make a habit of it, because I hate the thought of you being in danger.”

  “Gryffyth, we’re in danger right now. Not much we can do about that, and if I see another Vampire, you can count on me doing the same again, if I get half a chance. I’d have known something was wrong with him, even if Alice hadn’t recognized him right away. He was just not right.” Very scientific, that.

  “He’s taken care of now.”

  “But Mrs. Burrows thinks there’s another.”

  “Dad and I’ll take care of him.”

  They went silent for a while, listening, but at least there were no more planes overhead. “Tell me,” Mary said, “if we have children, the girls will be Sprites and, I suppose, the boys Dragons.”

  “There are female Dragons too.”

  Now that was a thought. “Aquatic Dragons?”

  “We’ll find out.”

  If they lived long enough. No, dammit. There was no if about it. They would live long enough.

  “Blimey, I’m a fool!” he said. “You’ve had me distracted, Mary. I’m sitting here acting as if I’m a human. And drat it, I can get us out of here.”

  “What?”

  “I’m a Dragon, darling. Let me stand up.”

  Not easy to do given his height, his artificial leg, and the low ceiling, but he managed. “Get back as far as you can against the wall,” he said. “It seems sturdy enough. I may end up taking some of the staircase down with me. And hold the torch for me.”

  He pressed against the door. Just as before, it moved barely enough to notice, then he steadied himself and put his shoulder to the door. It moved a little, accompanied by the sound of splintering wood. “Let’s have another go,” he said, and shoved.

  The door shattered, and with an awful noise fell out of its frame, and he went with it.

  “Gryffyth!” she screamed. He picked himself up and reached out his hand. “Come on.”

  She didn’t need a second bidding. She stepped forward and grabbed him, remembered to shove the torch in her dressing gown pocket, and climbed over the ruins of the door.

  They were standing in a heap of rubble. Part of the ceiling sat on top of the smashed case of Gloria’s grandfather clock.

  And that was just the beginning. The chill around them wasn’t the night cold of an unheated house. It was the damp of the night outside. Seemed Gloria no longer had a parlor.

  “We’d better get out,” Gryffyth said.

  She wasn’t about to argue. The kitchen was relatively unscathed, apart from the blown-in windows. The tape on the glass held but the frame was in pieces.

  Gryffyth rescued her coat from the dust and mess on the cupboard floor and put it over her shoulders. “That’s thicker than your dressing gown.” Even wearing both, she wasn’t exactly warm. “I wish I could find my shoes,” he added.

  “What about your stick?”

  “I don’t need it, if you’ll give me your arm.”

  “Of course.” He could have any part of her he wanted.

  “We should get out of here. Who knows if another bit won’t go?”

  They made their way through the kitchen by torchlight, and found the door still bolted, although the window, three feet away, was blown into the sink.

  Just as they stepped outside, and Mary realized how thin her slipper soles were—and Gryffyth didn’t even have slippers—the all clear sounded.

  “Can you walk?” he asked.

  “Yes, but it’s damn cold.” In the circumstances, she felt justified in swearing.

  He didn’t even seem to notice. “If we head for the ARP hut, t
hey’ll have blankets and something warm to drink.”

  A stop by the Pig sounded an even better idea but it was well after hours. They set off, Gryffyth’s hand on her arm. At least the moonlight would help them find the way.

  And it also showed that the front half of the cottage was a shambles, the lane was strewn with rubble and the row of four cottages across the lane was gone.

  “Bloody hell!” Gryffyth stood and stared. “They got a direct hit. We caught the fringe of it.” He looked back at the house. “Damn good thing we went downstairs, look at your bedroom.”

  She didn’t want to, but couldn’t help it. Not that there was much to look at. Her bedroom just wasn’t there. They’d be dead if they’d stayed upstairs.

  Her legs crumpled under her and she grabbed on to him. Needing his strength, at least for a few minutes. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “You know we’re certifiably loony, driving through an air raid,” Peter said.

  “I bet you did it enough times as a driver.”

  “That was different.”

  Alice wasn’t going to waste breath arguing. “Same war. Same Luftwaffe.” Wasn’t much he could say to that. “Think we should pick up Gran and the sergeant?”

  “Best wait until the all clear. I can go and get them later if you want.”

  Made sense.

  At the ARP headquarters, in the old church hall, everyone was on the alert.

  “Glad to see you, Doctor, and you, sir,” Mr. Black said with a nod to Peter. “Looks bad. We’ve sent a couple of runners out to see what got hit. Sounded as though a couple landed.”

  Alice’s stomach clenched. They’d been luckier here than many places, but she’d never forget the night the vicarage got a hit. “Any idea which direction?”

  “One was out over toward the common. With a bit of luck it hit open ground. The other was closer. We’ll know soon.”

  The other worker, a man Alice didn’t know, answered the field phone. “All clear,” he said, and reached for the crank. They were almost deafened by the siren but the long, single note was a welcome sound.