A Winter Love Song

by Rita Bradshaw

  It was as the noise began to lessen that all three of them realized that, miraculously, the Morrison shelter had done its job. They were alive. And the meshed steel sides had so far prevented the piled-up rubble and bricks from spilling into the shelter and crushing them, although the thick dust was making them cough and splutter. Sensing that the initial danger was over, Cyril wriggled off his wife and to the side of her so that Selina was in the middle of them, his voice shaking as he said, ‘I’ll never complain about the space this thing takes up again.’

  They were in complete darkness, but because the Morrison shelter had been designed like a double bed with a lid, it was comfortable enough. Selina and Cyril had fitted it out like the one at Bonnie’s with a mattress and other bedding; unfortunately though, however accommodating a tomb is, it remains just that, a tomb, and Selina’s voice reflected this when she muttered, ‘It’s like we’re in a coffin under the ground. I – I don’t think I can stand this.’

  ‘It’s all right, it’s all right.’ Cyril’s voice was soothing. ‘They’ll get us out, love, you know they will.’

  ‘But how soon? What if the roof gives in?’

  ‘It’s not going to buckle now. These things are built to withstand just this very thing.’

  ‘I can’t breathe . . .’

  ‘Yes, you can, Selina,’ said Bonnie sharply, sensing that Cyril’s softly-softly approach wasn’t working. ‘But you have to take control of yourself like you did when they found that unexploded bomb. You got all the children out, remember? So this is nothing in comparison.’

  There was a moment’s silence and then Selina’s voice came small and trembling when she whispered, ‘I’ve never been able to cope with confined spaces. It’s – it’s a thing of mine. I’ve had it since I was little. I’d been naughty one day and Mother told Mrs Eden to lock me in a cupboard to teach me a lesson. I screamed and screamed in there until I was sick and – and wet myself, but they still didn’t let me out. It was dark and small and the smell . . .’

  ‘Oh, Selina.’ Bonnie heard rustling and surmised that Cyril had put his arms round his wife. ‘I wish you’d let me go round there years ago and give them a taste of their own medicine, the evil so-an’-sos.’

  ‘And have you taken away and locked up? Because that’s what would have happened, you know it would, if you’d come face to face with my father. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.’ Selina’s parents’ house had received a direct hit during the Blitz and not even the Anderson shelter in their garden had saved them. Her father, mother and Mrs Eden had been found in pieces, and at first Selina had been terribly upset. It had been when she had discovered that in a final act of cruelty the pair had left everything in their will to a nephew that she had mastered her grief and finally come to terms with the past. They had disowned her and, in doing so, any last lingering feelings of guilt which she had harboured had been extinguished.

  ‘Selina, you can do this, I know you can.’ Bonnie felt for her friend’s hand. ‘You’re not that unhappy, helpless, hurt little girl any more, you’re a woman, soon to become a mother. And right now you’re with Cyril who loves you to distraction, and me, who only loves you a little less than he does. You and Cyril will give your baby a wonderful life with a mam and da who love it as a child should be loved.’

  Selina’s fingers wrapped more tightly round Bonnie’s. ‘I love that northern terminology, mam and da,’ she said softly. ‘It’s so much warmer than mother and father which is what I was brought up with. And we will be a mam and da.’

  ‘Of course you will.’

  ‘Oh, Bonnie, the cot and pram and everything.’

  ‘Don’t worry about all that, we’ll get new ones. And you and Cyril must move in with us until you get another place – Art would want that too. Now stop worrying and relax.’

  Selina was still gripping her hand with all her might and Bonnie knew her panic hadn’t subsided. Hoping Selina’s parents and Mrs Eden were somewhere very hot and very final, Bonnie began to talk about the baby – about what it would look like, how big it would be, names, its first Christmas – and gradually Selina’s fingers slackened. Cyril guessed what she was doing and joined in, even making Selina giggle when Bonnie said he would be on hand to change nappies, and Cyril commented that when he had promised to love, honour and cherish, no mention of changing dirty nappies had been included. ‘Men don’t know how to change nappies,’ Cyril said very solemnly. ‘It’s one of the rare things we can’t do, no matter how much we would like to. Shame, really.’

  Selina giggled again, but then it was cut short in a little gasp that ended in a moan.

  ‘Selina?’ They both spoke at the same time.

  ‘I – I think the baby’s coming.’

  ‘It can’t.’ Cyril’s composure went out the window.

  Bonnie tried not to let her own panic come through in her voice as she said, ‘Have you had a pain?’

  ‘I’ve had what I thought was backache since we were first in here. Actually, I think I woke up with it this morning, but now it’s moved to the front and – oh, oh . . .’ They didn’t have to see her face to know the pain she was in. ‘Oh, Bonnie,’ she gasped when she could speak again. ‘The pains are really strong.’

  ‘Selina, cross your legs.’ This was from Cyril and not meant to be funny, as the appalled tone of his voice confirmed.

  Ignoring him, Bonnie said, ‘All right, you’ve had what you put down to just backache since when exactly? What time did you wake up?’

  ‘It woke me. About five o’clock.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Cyril practically shouted.

  ‘Shut up, Cyril.’ It wasn’t the time for niceties, Bonnie had decided. ‘And did the backache get worse after the bomb?’

  ‘Much, but I thought it was because we were cramped in here and – oh, oh, ohhh . . .’

  There was no doubt about it, the baby was coming. Bonnie broke out in a cold sweat, so terror-stricken she was glad she didn’t have to speak for a few moments as Selina’s groans filled the air. She had pulled herself together by the time they subsided, trying to remember everything she had ever heard about the process of giving birth, which wasn’t much. One thing she did know was that it wasn’t meant to be in the pitch black in a steel box. Cyril had begun to shout for help at the top of his voice, clearly frightened out of his wits, but his hysteria wasn’t going to inspire confidence in Selina, and again Bonnie said, ‘Shut up, Cyril.’

  ‘Don’t tell me to shut up, my wife’s having a baby, damn it. We need to get out of here.’

  ‘I know that but they’ll get to us as soon as they can,’ Bonnie said quietly. ‘The neighbours will know you’re here.’ Any neighbours who had survived, that is, she thought grimly. They didn’t know where the bomb had landed, after all. It wouldn’t have been a direct hit on Selina’s house or else they wouldn’t have known anything about it, Morrison shelter or no Morrison shelter. A fifteen-ton rocket carrying a one-ton warhead took no prisoners, as Annie had remarked the other day.

  She couldn’t see him, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if Cyril was wringing his hands when he said, ‘How do you stop it happening?’

  ‘You can’t.’ Selina’s voice was remarkably calm and if she had been able, Bonnie would have fallen on her knees and given thanks. ‘If it’s coming, it’s coming, and that’s that.’

  ‘It’ll be fine, Selina.’ Bonnie knelt as best she could. ‘We’ll manage this between us.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘First thing, all right, Cyril? Help me turn over the dusty side of the eiderdown so that when the baby’s born it’s as clean as we can make it.’

  Cyril groaned, but did as he was told, swearing under his breath as another contraction brought more moans from Selina. Somehow they managed it in the confined space and once that was done, Bonnie took a pillowcase off one of the two pillows in the shelter, turning it inside out so again it was something relatively clean to wrap the baby in. Cyril’s injuries meant he could only prop hi
mself on one arm, but as the minutes went by and Selina’s groans became more animal-like, he seemed to have gained more of his self-control. Bonnie had told him to hold Selina’s hand, and now with each contraction he murmured encouragement.

  If only there was even a chink of light, Bonnie fretted, as she bent over her friend. They had pulled Selina’s knickers off and hoisted her dress up over her thighs, but feeling in the dark as she was, Bonnie wouldn’t be able to see the baby’s head when it crowned, as Selina said the term was. Selina was trying to remember all that her midwife had told her but as the possibility of the birth taking place without the midwife and in pitch-black darkness in a Morrison shelter hadn’t been on the cards, most of it was irrelevant.

  Bonnie counted to herself and the contractions seemed to be coming every couple of minutes after what must have been half an hour or so, but then suddenly the nature of Selina’s groans changed, becoming more guttural as time went on. ‘I feel I have to push . . .’

  ‘No, Selina, don’t push.’ Cyril’s precarious composure faltered and died, and Bonnie was as surprised as him when Selina hissed a swear word they never dreamed she knew, before telling him to shut up the way Bonnie had done.

  This time Cyril didn’t protest, muttering, ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry, love,’ before falling silent.

  At one point Bonnie became aware that her friend was crying as Selina sobbed, ‘I can’t do this, I can’t, I’m going to die.’

  She felt for Selina’s brow, stroking back damp hair as she whispered, ‘You’re not going to die and you can do this. You can do anything, Selina. You’re strong and courageous and wonderful,’ praying silently all the time that the baby would be safely delivered. Selina couldn’t lose the baby now, she couldn’t. God wouldn’t be so cruel, would He? After everything her friend had been through, it had been a new beginning for her with Cyril. And then the war had come and he had gone away to fight the Nazis and got injured, but against all the odds he had survived and come back to her. And then they’d found out Selina was expecting a baby . . .

  ‘Oh, it’s coming out,’ Selina screamed a little while later, and as Bonnie felt between Selina’s legs there was a sudden rush of liquid and the baby slid into her hands.

  Feeling as though she was in the middle of a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from, Bonnie grasped the baby to her, feeling what was the head and what was the bottom as she prayed for it to cry. Babies always cried when they were born, didn’t they? It had to cry. Please, God, it had to cry.

  And then she heard the most beautiful sound she’d ever experienced. An indignant, lusty ‘wah-wah’ filled their small space and the baby moved tiny arms and legs in her hands. Weak with relief that it was breathing, Bonnie wrapped the pillowcase round the small shape as best she could with the umbilical cord still attached to Selina, saying, ‘Can you take it, Selina? Are you able?’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ Selina was sobbing again, but this time with joy, and Cyril’s voice was choked up when he muttered, ‘Thank God, thank God . . .’

  Bonnie settled the baby in its mother’s arms, telling Selina to lie still while she tried to sort out the eiderdown so that Selina wasn’t lying on wet material. She was unutterably relieved, on feeling around, that the liquid that had gushed out wasn’t sticky or smelling strongly of blood, assuming, rightly, that it must be the fluid surrounding the baby in the womb as Selina said she hadn’t been aware of her waters breaking before. Once Selina was as dry and comfortable as she could make her, she helped her friend unbutton her dress and pull her bra aside so that they could position the baby at her breast. It took a few moments but then Selina whispered, ‘It’s feeding, it’s sucking, I can feel it.’

  Bonnie sank back on her heels, light-headed now the immediate danger was over. Keeping her voice calm, she said, ‘Keep it wrapped up and warm and everything will be fine now. They’ll get us out in a little while and we’re safe in here till then,’ hoping desperately she was right. She had no idea how long it would take for them to be dug out or whether the air would last. Thus far the Morrison shelter had kept them alive, but what if, when the rescuers started digging, it was the final straw for the steel keeping the bricks and rubble from crushing them to death?

  She didn’t know if Cyril was thinking along the same lines; he had moved to take Selina and his child into his arms but, apart from telling his wife she was the most amazing woman in the world, had said little else. He was in shock, they all were, Bonnie thought tiredly, although actually, now the baby was here, Selina was billing and cooing to it and seemed in a world of her own. Such was the power of motherhood, Bonnie reflected, smiling to herself. Selina didn’t know what her child looked like or even if it was a boy or a girl, but from the sweet nothings that she was murmuring it didn’t matter.

  It was totally inappropriate considering the circumstances, but suddenly a great rush of maternal longing swept over Bonnie. She wanted her own baby and soon, war or no war. Reason and logic had nothing to do with it; she loved Art with every fibre of her being and she wanted his child, and at this moment in time she didn’t know if he was dead or alive.

  How long they sat in the darkness before hearing the faint sound of voices shouting, Bonnie didn’t know, but immediately Cyril bellowed at the top of his voice, waking the baby who added its cries to its father’s, causing Selina to reprimand her husband. ‘Don’t be daft, woman, we need to let them know we’re alive,’ muttered Cyril, before yelling again for all he was worth.

  Within minutes there were other sounds above them and they knew the rescuers had heard Cyril, but it seemed a long time until the first chink of light appeared and someone said quite clearly now, ‘How many of you are there?’

  ‘Three adults and a newborn baby. My wife’s had it in here.’

  Someone swore and then apologized, and Cyril shouted back, ‘Don’t worry, mate, I felt the same.’

  It was a slow, laborious process clearing the rubble and bricks and other debris. Cyril had watched other rescues; he had even assisted in one when he had been home on leave once before he was injured, and so he knew how precarious it could be. It became clear that rather than attempt to clear the wreckage on top of them the rescue team had come in from the side in a kind of tunnel, but eventually the first chink of light had expanded so they could see each other again.

  It was a fireman who reached them first with another man just behind him, and he said, ‘We’re going to get you out of here right now, all right? One at a time, nice and easy. Mother and baby first. We’ve got a midwife waiting and she’ll go with you to the hospital, love. This one is going to have a story to tell when it grows up, eh? That’s it, that’s it. You’re doing fine, love.’

  Because the umbilical cord was still attached to mother and child, getting Selina and the baby out was far from straightforward but somehow, with Selina protecting the precious bundle in her arms and the help of the fireman, and Bonnie and Cyril, they managed it. It was then, once it was just her and Cyril, that Bonnie saw the state of Selina’s husband. His trousers were drenched in blood. ‘Cyril?’ She stared at him in horror. Even under the coating of dust she could see that his face was as white as a sheet. ‘What’s the matter? Are you hurt?’

  ‘It’s all right, don’t panic. It’s just one of me legs. I didn’t get inside here quick enough and I think it might have opened up the damage again.’

  ‘Can you move?’ There was so much blood . . .

  ‘I told you, it’ll be all right. You get ready to get out.’

  ‘There is absolutely no way I’m going first and leaving you in here. You’re going next.’

  ‘I’m damn well not. Art’d never forgive me.’

  ‘Art isn’t here and I’m not arguing, Cyril.’

  The fireman was back in the hole, bringing a shower of dust and rubble with him. Bonnie called to him, ‘We’ve got a badly injured man here.’ And as Cyril protested, she said grimly, ‘You are, and I told you, I’m not arguing. You go next or we both stay here indefinitely.’


  The fireman grinned, showing white teeth through the dust coating his face. ‘I wouldn’t argue with the lady, pal. Seems like she knows her own mind and you’ll never win.’

  Cyril gave in with bad grace, but once they began to try and get him out, it took all of the rescuers’ expertise, and Bonnie helping to manoeuvre and assist from behind, to move him out of the shelter and into position. Cyril passed out once with the pain and any movement was clearly excruciating. Bonnie found herself marvelling at his resolve to keep his injury concealed from Selina so she didn’t worry.

  Finally it was her turn, and it was then, as she wriggled partway out of the shelter, that there came a kind of rumbling sound. She twisted over, trying to see above her, and heard the fireman say, ‘Hold on, love,’ but that was the last thing that registered before the debris shifted and came thundering down on top of her. She felt as though her breath was being squeezed out of her body by a mighty fist as a terrible weight descended, and then there was nothing but choking darkness and finally oblivion.