by Carol Rivers
‘It’s just so bloody unfair,’ he muttered to himself. ‘As if the East End ain’t suffered enough. Someone needs to give that ruddy Hitler his comeuppance.’
Another cloud of dust enveloped him as he stood still listening to the clanking, shunting and grinding of the rescue vehicles and fire engines. He should by now be accustomed to devastation and loss of life. But these flying bombs were equal to no other.
‘Harry Sway, is it?’
The voice came from a few yards away. A police officer stepped towards him, his boots covered in dust and his uniform unrecognizable as navy blue. The conelike helmet on his head was the only clue to his profession.
‘How can I help you, chum?’ Harry cleared his throat and braced his shoulders, hoping the tears in his eyes were masked by the grime. He had a job to do and looking as sick as a parrot was going to help no one.
‘I’ve got someone asking for you at the post. A young woman by the name of Jean Pearson.’
‘Dunno her, pal. Is she from Crane Street?’
‘No, she don’t live round here.’
‘What’s she want then?’
The policeman took off his helmet and swiped his hand through his dark hair. With a compassionate tug of his heart, Harry noted the white patch where his helmet had been. Like him, the copper had seen sights today that no mortal should be made to witness. ‘She’s with someone else, a Mrs Lewis would it be?’
‘You mean Kay?’ Harry gasped. ‘Thank God for that! Is she with her kid?’
‘No, she was out for the day. She’s pretty shook up, Harry. You gonna have a word with her?’
‘I’ll come right away.’ He shook his head sadly. ‘Her old man was in the Rescue Squad before he was called up. The poor sod went missing in action in forty-three.’
The policeman heaved a sympathetic sigh. ‘Some folks seem to have all the bad luck. Listen, I’ll get one of the lads to drive ’em up to the hospital. We’ve got two of our blokes up there, with all the latest information as it comes in.’
Harry experienced a moment of panic as he felt the bile of fear rise in his throat. ‘Christ,’ he complained loudly, ‘this is a rotten job.’
The two men turned round and made their way through the ripped and mangled remains of Crane Street towards the post.
Kay found herself standing in one of the long Victorian-embellished corridors of the Poplar hospital. The combination of disinfectant and ether that pervaded the air was sickening, added to the pitiful sights of the shocked, weak and wounded being ferried in. The waiting area was full of the relatives of the missing. Like her, they wanted to find their loved ones. The Doodlebug that had fallen on Crane Street was not the only one to fly over East London that day.
Kay was thankful that Jean had stayed with her. Harry Sway had been relieved to see them but didn’t know anything about Alfie, Vi, Babs and the kids. Slater Street was a no-go area. Kay didn’t remember much of the journey in the truck. What was she to discover at the hospital?
‘Kay, are you listening?’ Jean was shaking her arm as they stood in the busy stream of people. ‘The doctor’s here.’
Kay stared into the gaze of an older man in a white coat. He had grey, dishevelled hair and looked at her over the top of his half-moon spectacles.
‘Mrs Lewis? Mrs Kay Lewis?’
Kay felt faint as she nodded. What was he going to tell her?
‘Your son is safe, also Mrs Chapman and her children, who I believe are your neighbours. A few bruises and scratches but nothing untoward. They took shelter with another neighbour and were brought to safety by the rescue teams.’
Kay felt the life drain from her legs as tears of relief slipped down her cheeks.
‘Come, come, my dear. It’s very good news for you.’
‘When can I see them?’ she managed to croak.
‘All in good time. There is however . . .’ the doctor paused, ‘. . . a set-back for Mrs Hill.’
‘Vi?’ Kay’s heart jumped in alarm. ‘Wasn’t she with the others?’
‘Yes, but we think she suffered a stroke. I can’t tell you very much just yet. We shall of course be doing tests.’
Kay gasped. ‘But – but is she going to be all right?’
‘We certainly hope so. Is Mrs Hill normally in good health?’
‘I – I thought she was getting over the bronchitis she had last year. But she was worried sick about these flying bombs.’
‘Well, I suggest you see her now, just for a few moments. Then the nurse will take you to your son and friends.’ The doctor hesitated. ‘I understand from the police authorities that you are on their list for accommodation. Arrangements are being made for you all to be taken to a shelter.’
‘A shelter?’ Kay repeated. ‘Why can’t we go home?’
‘The impact of the Doodlebug has rendered all the properties in Slater Street unsafe. I thought you’d been made aware of that.’
Kay quickly wiped away a tear. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Why hadn’t Harry told her?
Jean touched her arm. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Her voice was full of pity.
Kay stared at the white coat of the doctor who was now talking to someone else. She shook her head. No one could help. The Doodlebug had seen to that.
Vi knew she was somewhere familiar because of the smell – the disinfectant and ether – just like when they’d rushed young Pete to hospital and he’d been lying in that room, separated from the other patients because of the infection that diphtheria spread. But the doctors and nurses needn’t have worried that her boy would become a problem. No, he’d not resisted the disease for long. Even though he’d been young, on the brink of manhood and expecting to live a long and full life, he had passed quickly with the fever. The doctors had said that if anyone had a chance against the diphtheria it was Pete Junior. But nevertheless, he’d drifted and within a few hours he was taken from them.
Vi thought of young Pete now, where she preferred to think of him. A tall, handsome young man with his dad standing by his side, enjoying the bright lights of heaven together. Two beautiful souls who she believed would continue for all eternity. She’d like more than anything to be with them. She wasn’t afraid. She wasn’t in pain. If only they would they come for her . . .
‘Vi?’
Someone was calling. Was it young Pete? No, he would have called her ‘Mum’. Vi struggled to open her eyes.
‘Vi, it’s me, Kay.’
Vi peeled open her eyes and looked around. The ceiling was a white blur and the walls a very pale green. She tried to move her head but she couldn’t. She felt a trickle of spit at her chin. Strangely she couldn’t seem to wipe it away.
‘Vi, can you hear me?’
Vi wanted to answer but she couldn’t quite get her mouth to work properly. Not that it mattered very much. She would like to go back to where she was, waiting for her two Petes. She knew sooner or later they’d be along and she didn’t want to miss them. And she had plenty of patience to wait. At this thought, she wanted to laugh. Big Pete had always assured her she must have patience to have married a mug like him.
‘Don’t try to talk, Vi. You’ve had . . . had a rough time, but you’re going to be all right. And everyone’s safe: Alfie and Babs and the kids. Everyone.’
Vi felt Kay’s hand around hers. The hospital walls became clearer, the windows and then a nurse in blue uniform. So she was in hospital, after all, not at heaven’s gate!
‘Oh, Vi, I should have made you rest more.’
Vi heard Kay’s voice drifting in and out of her head. Her words were soft and trembling, muffled by tears. But the poor cow needn’t be sad! Quite the opposite. Vi wanted to explain she was happy just waiting here, she wasn’t ill in the least.
A picture of Jenny Edwards, Babs and the kids lit up in Vi’s mind. They were huddled together, waiting for the bomb to fly over. She’d been stroking Alfie’s hair, when the noise above had stopped and then there was only the silence.
Vi tried to move
her lips. She couldn’t. But again, it was of no real concern. It was like she was as free as a bird inside her head, flying and soaring all over the place. It was a lovely feeling. If only she could tell Kay that.
‘I’m not allowed to stay for much longer,’ Kay was whispering. ‘I – I just wanted you to know that I’ll see you soon and – and that we’re all rooting for you.’ Kay squeezed her hand tightly.
Vi tried to tell her that she needn’t worry, needn’t worry at all. That now she was feeling sleepy, very sleepy. Once again the floating feeling filled her. A freedom from the worries that had put her in chains for so long. Vi wanted to laugh. She couldn’t even remember what those worries were now!
‘Bricks and mortar don’t matter,’ Kay was saying softly, tearfully. ‘It’s people who do. Remember the Blitz when we never really knew for certain if we’d see the light of day? I was always glad to see me house and knew somehow we’d manage as long as it was still standing. But today, knowing that you and Alfie and Babs and the kids are safe . . . it’s all that matters.’
Vi nodded as best she could. Though that movement too was probably all in her head.
‘You’re going to get better, Vi.’
At the risk of seeming ungrateful, Vi was hard put to say whether she cared much about being part of this world again. Just thinking about her boy and her other half waiting to meet her was a revelation. She knew now that death wasn’t to be feared but to be welcomed. She also knew – though she didn’t know how – that it hadn’t been her time to go in Jenny’s under-stairs cupboard. She knew the good Lord would take her when he was ready and not before.
‘I’ve got to leave you now,’ Kay was telling her. ‘I don’t want to. But the doctor said not to tire you.’
Vi tried to squeeze Kay’s hand. The mumbling that came from her lips didn’t sound like ‘Cheerio, flower’. But perhaps that bloody bomb had deafened her after all! She wanted to crack that joke to Kay, but she was drifting fast . . .
Then, as the wave of peace claimed her, she found herself floating out into the sky. As though she was really no weight at all on the surface of the cloud.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Kay was so tired, she didn’t care about the snoring, coughing, wheezing and releasing of wind that would in normal times be met with a joke and crude sense of cockney humour. She knew, as did Babs, who was also trying to fall asleep on the mattress beside her, that they were now refugees, their temporary shelter an old Aldgate warehouse. They had been told they would never go back to Slater Street. That they were the lucky ones. Neville, Hazel and Thelma had perished. Kay couldn’t stop thinking about them. They had been friends and neighbours all through the Blitz yet one single bomb had brought their lives to an end.
Kay sat up, pushing the blanket back. She felt hot and sticky. Thank God it was summer and not winter and at least they were provided with the basics of life: a soup kitchen and temporary latrines, a wash house, straw mattresses and one blanket and a pillow apiece. They had been made as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. The result of the latest wave of Doodlebugs to drop on London had swollen every shelter beyond its normal capacity.
Kay looked over at her friend. ‘Babs, are you awake?’
‘Yes.’ Babs sat up too. ‘Are the kids asleep?’
‘There ain’t been a whisper from them.’
‘You know, Kay, I was so proud of them today,’ Babs said softly as they glanced at the three motionless forms under the thin blankets. ‘When the rescue crew prized opened the door of Jenny’s cupboard, they didn’t shed a tear between them. We’d been stuck in there for a good hour before the rescue crew was able to let us out. But the kids were more concerned for Vi when she was laid on a stretcher and put in the ambulance.’
‘Babs, it was awful seeing her in hospital like that. She couldn’t speak properly. I think she was trying to tell me something.’
‘Kay, don’t be upset. She’s alive, ain’t she? After all, she would have been in the house if you hadn’t gone to the sanatorium. It was going to the school that saved all our lives.’
‘Yes, I know I should be grateful. And I truly am. I’ll never forget waiting at that hospital, not knowing—’ Kay stopped. She had to pull herself together. She looked at the children again. They were all well and safe. And as she’d told Vi, that was what mattered.
‘I can’t stop thinking about Neville,’ Babs whispered. ‘Paul’s never going to see his dad again. And Thelma and Hazel – they was never any trouble.’
‘Yes, they were all good neighbours.’ Kay and Babs were silent, lost in thought once again.
‘Do you think our houses are still standing?’ Kay eventually asked.
‘The bobby that drove us here said the houses in Slater Street were now designated as unsafe. I thought the ceiling was coming down on us in that cupboard. And you should have seen Jenny’s place when they dug us out. The front door had fallen in and the passage wall had a great big hole in it where the bricks had come loose. And the dust – it was everywhere!’
‘Poor Jenny. Where will they go?’
‘Last I heard they was being taken over to East Ham to a refuge centre there.’
Once again they fell silent. They had been told by the police that their possessions, if recovered, would be sent on to them. But what that meant, she didn’t know. Meanwhile, the Sally Army would give them what was needed tomorrow.
‘At least you found Sean,’ Babs said, trying to sound brighter. ‘Tell me again what happened.’
‘He looked so small, Babs. Not even as tall as Alfie. All his lovely dark hair had been shaved and only grown a little. I wanted to fling me arms around him. But the matron warned me not to as she didn’t want him upset. Even so, I talked to him.’
‘You wouldn’t upset him,’ Babs said indignantly. ‘He was happy with you and Alfie. When will you see him again?’
Kay sighed. ‘That Doodlebug has changed everything. But I told him I’d write.’
‘What did he say?’
‘Nothing,’ Kay said reflectively. ‘But he smiled. And that was enough for me.’
‘The bomb did more than take away our homes. It changed all our future.’
‘What will you do, Babs? Where will you go?’
‘To Essex, most likely. At least we’ve got relatives there. Though I dunno if they’ll be too pleased to see us again after having Gill and Tim all that time before.’ Babs looked at Kay. ‘What about you?’
‘Alan wrote in that letter he wanted me and Alfie to go to Len and Doris’s. But I can’t see meself doing that. Poor Doris was upset enough before when we took Alfie away.’
‘So you’ll go to your mum and dad’s?’
‘Like you, I don’t have much choice, Babs.’
Babs gave a sudden chuckle. ‘Your mum will say she told you so. That the East End was too dangerous to live in.’
Kay smiled. ‘We gave Hitler a run for his money, though.’
Babs leaned her elbows on her knees. ‘You know, I never realized there were so many kinds of farting. Little ones and whistly ones and whopping great bangers. Trying to sleep here tonight has been an education.’
At this, they burst into soft laughter. Kay knew it was laughter that could have easily been tears. But for her and Babs, their sense of cockney humour was a release and they welcomed it. They sat together, talking of the old days, of Eddie and Alan and their lives with their neighbours and close friends in Slater Street; a time they knew had now drawn to a close. They’d shared many ups and probably more downs together, but they’d always been there for each other. Now even that was set to change.
‘Whatever happens, we’ll write, won’t we?’ Babs insisted. ‘We’ll keep in touch.’
‘Course we will.’
Later, as Babs lay asleep, Kay found herself wide awake. What would have happened if Alan had been here today? She knew he would have moved heaven and earth to see that she and Alfie were safe. He would have scooped them up and protected them an
d, in that very special way of his, taken all their worries away. She felt the loss of him deeply and she knew Babs missed Eddie too. And that part of her would always remember Paul. Although their life in the East End had ended, they had been blessed with survival. As she drifted into sleep, she thought she could hear Alan’s voice softly whispering in her ear. His words always gave her courage. ‘Chin up, lovely, tomorrow’s a new day.’
And it was.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Nine months later
‘At 2.41 this morning, 7 May 1945, peace came to a battered Europe,’ the commentator intoned, his voice sombre as it came through the kitchen wireless, causing Kay, who was seated on the bench outside the back door, to jump to her feet and wave fiercely at Pops in the garden.
‘Pops! Pops! Come quickly, it’s over!’
Wearing her boots and leaning heavily on her stick, Pops’s journey down the path was slow. ‘You mean it?’ she asked breathlessly as she neared. ‘Is the war really over?’
‘As good as. Come on, we’ll just catch the last of the news.’
Kay and Pops eagerly pulled up their chairs to listen to the rest of the broadcast. But as they sat there, the joy of the unconditional surrender by a devastated German army to the Allies was tempered with sadness. So much devastation was left in the wake of this second world war that had come only twenty years after the first, Kay reflected. London had been pulverized by an even more lethal weapon: the new killing machines, the V2s. These had caused even greater destruction than their predecessors. Londoners had been blasted out of their homes once again and Kay had thanked God for the safety of Monkton. But even here, they hadn’t been shielded from the terrible atrocities that were printed every day in the newspapers. Unimagined horrors had been discovered in the Nazi death camps. For millions of Jews, Poles and other victims, the victory had come too late. There had been disbelief at the report that on 30 April 1945, Hitler and his wife Eva Braun had committed suicide in Berlin.
