“We’ll give you some painkillers. You need to rest. You’ve had a terrible shock, apart from everything else.”
“It’s Dai. I keep thinking about Dai. It’s so hard to believe he’s dead.”
“Try not to think about anything for the moment, darling,” said Mum. “You’ve been ever so brave. Now we really must get you to bed.”
But Audrey showed no sign of moving upstairs. She just lay back in the armchair and closed her eyes. Two little tears escaped from her closed lids and trickled slowly down her cheeks. Joan and Brian sat there silently, not knowing what to do or say.
They were all still sitting there when the doorbell went – not an urgent summons this time, but a couple of rings. Brian was first to jump up and run to answer it. There was a brief pause, then voices in the hall.
As Brian led the way into the room, his face stunned and contorted with shock, he paused on the threshold. There was somebody behind him, and he stood back to usher him through. It was Dai! Not a ghost, but the real Dai! Exhausted, rather dishevelled, but smiling broadly. Dai, back from the dead.
“Hi, everyone! Couldn’t find anyone at our place, so I thought I’d come over here. Seems like Jerry gave you a real pasting last night, so I wanted to check that you’re all OK.”
CHAPTER 31
It was some time before they could hear the full story of why Dai had been reported dead. First, he had to rush down to the hospital and help to get his mum and dad home in the ambulance. Luckily, Hugh had been judged fit to be discharged, providing he rested and reported for a check-up at an outpatients’ meeting the following day. Gwyneth, though unhurt, was totally drained.
When Dai was settled on the sofa in the Armitages’ front room, close to Audrey, he told them everything.
“We were torpedoed by a German U-boat, see. They’d managed to sneak into the convoy and let us have it. Our ship had been separated from the others somehow, and we took a direct hit. Trouble is, with a merchant ship, you don’t even have proper guns to fire back, let alone a depth charge. We went down within half an hour of the torpedo hitting us – on fire, split in two, straight into the drink.”
“I can’t remember much about what happened then,” Dai went on, “except that it was pitch-dark and I was in the water, hanging onto a bit of wreckage. There was burning stuff everywhere, and people screaming. Thought I was done for, see. Got carried away from the wreck. Cold! I’ve never felt so cold! I knew that if any of our crew were still alive, they’d be out there in the water somewhere. But I couldn’t see them, and I knew that none of us could last long in that temperature—” He paused for a moment, unable to go on. Audrey held his hand tightly.
“The next thing I remember was somebody pulling me out of the water. Swedish, they were – a fishing trawler, way off course. God knows how they spotted me. Hauled me on board. I passed out, but they managed to keep me alive. I think I must have been out for quite a while – shock, exhaustion, all that. But they warmed me up somehow, brought me round. They even had some vodka! The only trouble was, when I was finally able to speak to them, none of us could understand a word the other was saying. I wanted to get them to radio the company, to get a message to all of you that I was safe. But they didn’t understand, and I think their radio communication was a bit duff, anyway.
“The miracle was that it turned out they were heading for Whitehaven! Heaven knows what cargo they were carrying. I thought it was better not to ask. But they were great lads. They made a detour and got me to Liverpool. Just my luck that we docked before the siren went for the worst Blitz attack ever! I tried to telephone Mum and Dad from the docks, but all the lines were down, and I knew all the ambulance services were fully stretched. But some brave bloke gave me a lift. There were fires everywhere… I thought I might have got so far, only to be blown up on the last lap home. But we made it. And here I am.”
“Here you are!” echoed Audrey, still holding his hand as though she could hardly believe it.
“Oh, Dai, I’m so glad you’re home safe,” was all Mum said. She was all choked up with tears.
Joan could not help noticing that, for a moment, she glanced up at the photograph on the mantelpiece, of Dad in uniform.
The one who didn’t make it home.
EPILOGUE
Joan, Ross and Derek were trundling the handcart along the promenade. It was a perfect June day, and they were not collecting with much conviction. It was more of a routine now, clocking up the required hours of youth service to keep the ladies down at the WVS depot happy.
Ross’s dad had been sent to North Africa to fight against the German army in the Western Desert, commanded by General Rommel.
“We don’t hear from him that often,” Ross told them. “Got a letter the other day, though. It’d been through the censor, of course, so lots of stuff had been blanked out. Most of what was left was going on about how hot it was, and how water’s strictly rationed, and how the sand and flies get into everything, especially the food.”
“Better than freezing to death, I s’pose,” said Derek philosophically. The headlines that week were full of news that Germany had invaded Russia. “They say we’re signing a treaty with Stalin. He’s quite something! Got a much better moustache than Hitler, and all.”
Joan found it difficult to envisage the world-war conflict in such simplistic terms. All she felt like doing was enjoying the comparative calm that had settled at home, with Audrey recovering from her injuries and everyone so happy that Dai was not dead after all.
He had been given extended leave, and was now working in the company offices in Liverpool. They knew he would be sent back to sea soon, but for the moment, he and Audrey were seeing a lot of each other, dating and dancing, and blissfully happy in each other’s company. Best of all, the ferocity of the Liverpool Blitz seemed to be abating, with no raids as severe as on that terrible night in May.
Joan knew that Mum missed the Russell family as much as she did. But they were planning a get-together − a foursome in Liverpool with Mrs Russell and Doreen − as soon as it seemed safe enough to go there. They might even meet for a slap-up tea at the Adelphi Hotel – a far cry from the Bluebell Cafe!
The days when the Armitage family had to endure Ronnie Harper Jones’s braying laugh and boring conversation in their front room seemed quite long past now. Mum had not mentioned him since that humiliating confrontation with his wife, which only Joan had witnessed. It was best forgotten.
And now, this Saturday morning, when Joan returned from her salvage collecting, she heard Mum laughing in the kitchen. It had been a long time since she had heard her laugh like that. Brian, who was supposed to be helping to get their midday dinner, was fooling around as usual, imitating Vera Lynn in his own version of her hit song:
“There’ll always be an England!
But living here’s a pain.
We’re all so sick of rationing
It’s driving us insane!
No sweets and no bananas,
No coffee and no beer,
And if we ask for fish and chips
They say ‘We’ve got none ’ere!’”
Judy was dancing around and joining in. “Got none, got none, got none ’ERE!”
Joan’s family were not demonstrative on the whole. Mostly they preferred their affection for one another to remain unexpressed. But today Joan threw down her things, marched into the kitchen, and gave them each a hug.
“What’s this for, then?” asked Brian.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Joan. “Just so glad we’re all still around, I guess. But, hey, what’s for dinner? I’m starving!”
A stunning novel from one of the world’s best-loved children’s writers and illustrators
Italy, 1944: Florence is occupied by Nazi German forces.
The Italian resistance movement has not given up hope, though – and neither have Paolo and his sister, Constanza. Both are desperate to fight the occupation, but what can two siblings do against a whole army with only a bicycle to help them?
“A thrilling and moving tale. Danger abounds, but so do love and courage. I enjoyed it enormously.”
Philip Pullman
“A very exciting wartime story.”
Judith Kerr
Also by the author
Hero on a Bicycle
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. All statements, activities, stunts, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only and should not be relied on for accuracy or replicated as they may result in injury.
First published 2015 by Walker Books Ltd
87 Vauxhall Walk, London SE11 5HJ
Text © 2015 Shirley Hughes
Jacket artwork © 2015 Giordano Poloni,
from an original sketch by Shirley Hughes
Interior illustrations © 2015 Shirley Hughes
Endpaper photograph © 2015 IWM (C 5428)
On the endpapers of this book is a photograph of a vertical aerial view from 1,800 feet of the waterfront from the Pier Head to the Albert Dock, and of the city east to Derby Square, showing the extensive bomb damage to the commercial centre of Liverpool. The shell of the burnt out customs shed is visible left centre.
The right of Shirley Hughes to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in an information retrieval system in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, taping, and recording, without prior written permission from the publisher.
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data: a catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
ISBN 978-1-4063-6643-3 (ePub)
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Whistling in the Dark Page 13
