Chapter 14
That night the sky was clear and the bombers came over early. It was as if the sky was full of them, which was not normal. Mr. Burnett voiced the thought that for some reason they'd changed their approach strategy, or else they were heading for a new target. Whenever a new wave of bombers passed overhead, the anti-aircraft guns on the railway tracks opened up. But by now, everybody had become almost immune to the background noise.
At their normal time, Jeffrey and Gordon went to bed ignoring air raid, gunfire and the war, in order to get enough rest to face the next day's trials and frustrations.
Gordon fell asleep fast and, as usual, began to snore. Jeffery had adjusted to his nightly snores and lay with closed eyes pondering the problems of school, the kitten and how to get moved out of the Burnett household. Slowly he drifted into a half sleep.
He was snatched out of this dreamy state by a loud bang and the noise of shattering of glass followed by the sound of something falling outside the cupboard door. The house shook and rocked. He heard shouts and screams and smelled smoke. Dust filled the cupboard, getting in his throat, making him cough. Gordon sat up.
"Stop that, Jeffery." He snarled. Then he started to cough as well.
"It's not me. I think a bomb hit nearby. Could be in the garden. Maybe next door."
"Bomb!" Jeffery heard fear in Gordon's shaky voice. As he was at end of the under-stair cupboard next to the door, he immediately tried to open it. The door moved slightly then stuck. The screams had stopped and Mrs. Burnett came stumbling along the passage.
"Gordon," she called in a squeaky, terrified voice. "Gordon! Where are you, dear? Are you all right? Are you hurt Gordon?"
"Get me out of here, Mum. The door's stuck."
The door began to shake as Mrs. Burnett took hold of the door and pulled. "Donald!" Mrs. Burnett shouted for her husband. "Come and help me. Gordon's stuck in the cupboard."
Jeffery heard Mr. Burnett's answering shout as he, too, stumbled along the passage. He must have been holding the torch he kept by him at all times because a faint light seeped into the cupboard. Then he heard Mrs. Burnett's sister, Gertie calling out as she came from the front room where she'd been sleeping.
"The ceiling's down." Mr. Burnett said. "It's blocking the door."
Right then a banging started at the front door and Jeffery heard the shout of a man's voice. He couldn't make out what the man was saying.
"Oh, Gertie, " Mrs. Burnett said in a whiny voice, "Do answer the door. Poor Gordon's trapped. Gordon dear are you hurt?"
"No, Mum. I'm all right. Get me out of here."
Gordon knelt by the door frantically pushing. Jeffery was forgotten. There were scraping sounds that he guessed was Mr. Burnett trying to clear fallen debris away from the door. Then Gertie called out that the front door was stuck.
"Tell whoever it is to push it open from the outside," Mrs. Burnett shouted.
"I think that should do it," Mr. Burnett said. The cupboard door scratched and grated on the floor as it was pulled open a bit wider.
"Gordon, love," Mrs. Burnett said. "See if you can get out dear."
On his hands and knees, Gordon pushed out through the narrow opening. Jeffery crawled out after him, moving over crumbs of fallen plaster that dug painfully into his knees. He saw Gordon wrapped in his mother's arms as she hugged him. The front door was now open and the local Air Raid Warden had stepped inside.
"Come on, all of you. Get outside. Hurry!" He said. There's a bomb dropped in your garden. Your garage is on fire. Come on now. Get out before the fire spreads to the house."
"But we're not dressed for outside," Mrs. Burnett wailed.
"Better outside in your nightie love, than inside being toasted. Come on! Outside! All of you!"
Obeying the warden's command, they all shuffled and staggered outside dressed in their night clothes. Gertie was first out followed by Mrs. Burnett still hanging on to Gordon. Then Mr. Burnett stepped through the open door followed by Jeffery. As he stepped into the open, a fire engine pulled up. The firemen jumped off. Dragging hoses, they rushed to the side gate and around the back of the house to fight the fire. Soon a police car arrived with two policemen. Mr. Burnett told them that everyone except Jeffery could find a place to stay at his brother's house. It was only a small house, he said, and there would be no room for Jeffery.
"Are you sure they can’t squeeze him in for the one night?" the warden asked.
"Quite sure," Mr. Burnett answered in a tight voice.
Jeffery wondered what had got into him. Normally he was quite tolerant of Jeffery's presence. Maybe the thought of sharing Jeffery's meat ration with both his brother Wilfred and Jeffery didn't appeal to him.
"Right, then," said the driver of the police car, a sergeant. "Bert can stay here. The rest of you pile in. I'll drive you to your brother's house."
Mrs. Burnett, Gordon and Gertie climbed into the back of the police car. Mr. Burnett sat in front next to the driver. As soon as they were in and the doors closed, the car drove off.
Jeffery shivered in the night air. The warden looked at him and walked over to the side gate and looked down along the side of the house to where the firemen were fighting the fire. When he came back he said, "It's safe for the moment, son. Slip in and grab a blanket. We don't want you catching pneumonia." As Jeffery started off he said, "Wait." Jeffery stopped. "Here," he extended his hand. "It's dark in there. Take my torch. But hurry, I don't like to be without it for long."
Jeffery took the torch, entered the house and went straight to the cupboard. On his way he shone the light onto the floor and saw that huge chunks of plaster had fallen from the ceiling. This was the rubble that had stopped the cupboard door from opening. He pushed back into the cupboard through the narrow opening, grabbed a blanket and, as an afterthought, the shoes and trousers he always kept at his side as he slept. Kept there for emergencies like this one.
"Come on," the warden shouted from the door. "What's keeping you? Make it snappy."
Jeffery hurried out. He brushed the dirt from his feet as best he could as he pulled on his trousers. When he put on his shoes, grit rubbed the soles of his feet but he decided nothing could be done at the moment to relieve the discomfort. The blanket he tossed over his shoulders.
"Don't know what we're going to do with you," the warden said. "I'd take you to my place, but there's no room there either. Got three kids of my own and two of you evacuees."
Hope suddenly gleamed in Jeffery's mind. "There's the hostel up at the Manor," he said. "It's a big place. Maybe they've got room."
The warden pondered a moment. "Well, the police car has to come back for the constable there." He waved a hand at the policeman called Bert by the driver. He was across the street talking to neighbours of the Burnetts who'd come out of their house to gawk. His hand was waving at them as if he wanted them to get back into their house and out of danger should another bomb drop. "I'll ask them to run you up there. See if they'll take you in."
Bert crossed back over. "Fools," he said "standing outside like that. Could be another Jerry over any time dropping more bombs."
"Lad here has nowhere to go," the warden said. "Thinks there might be room up at the hostel in the manor. Can you run him up?"
"Be up to the Sergeant, but I don't see why not."
And that's what was done. When the car came back, the warden, Bert and the sergeant huddled together for a few minutes. Then Bert called out, "Come on lad. We'll run you up to the hall." He held the back door of the police car open and Jeffery climbed in and sat on the comfortable leather seats. The ride was a great thrill for him as he'd never even been in a car before, let alone a police car.
The main gate for the Manor driveway was closed as usual, so Bert escorted Jeffery in through the side gate and up to the front door while the police car waited. "Hope I don't wake the whole house," Bert said in a gruff voice as he banged the door knocker because he hadn't seen the bell pull. After a short wait, he was about t
o knock again when they heard sounds inside. Then the door opened to reveal Betsy carrying a lighted torch. "What's all the banging?" she said. "You're supposed to ring the bell."
She looked at the policeman for a few seconds before shinning the torch in Jeffery's face.
"What's he done, then?" she said with a toss of her head in Jeffery's direction.
"Got his self bombed out, that's what," snapped Bert, who seemed irritated by Betsy's snippy manner. "He needs a place to stay."
"Well I can't let him in at this time of night."
"I'm sure you can't. But you can run yourself off and fetch somebody who can, can't you. Now away with you; I don't want to stand here the rest of the night."
Betsy hesitated a moment, before saying, "wait," as she closed the door.
Jeffery started to shiver again and Bert stamped his feet. It was about five minutes before the matron who oversaw the welfare of the hostel children opened the door. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked.
The constable sniffed. "Didn't she tell you? Not surprised. Lad here's been bombed out. Needs a place to stay."
The matron had a torch, perhaps the same one Betsy had used. She, too, shone it in Jeffery's face before waving the light up and down his body. "Oh, the poor thing" she exclaimed "Is he hurt?"
"No, but he's dirty, cold and tired."
"Then he'd better come in and I'll make a cup of cocoa to warm him up. Would you like a cup, constable?"
"Thank you Ma'am, I can't. The sergeant's waiting down at the gate in the car and we have to get to work. Problems all over tonight."
"Well, thank you for bringing him over. What's your name, boy?"
"Jeffery."
Matron looked a little closer. "Why so it is. Arthur's friend." She opened the door wider and stepped aside. "Come on in, Jeffery." And as he stepped inside she said. "Goodnight, constable. Thank you again." Then she closed the door.
Bomber Overhead Page 17
