by Annie Groves
Then she said, her voice barely a whisper, ‘I know. I’ll write as soon as I get there.’
‘As soon as you can,’ Olive said, her words coming out in a rush. ‘Let me know you’ve arrived safely.’ Safely. The word echoed around her head. She had nurtured her daughter from the day she was born and tried to raise her to be the best human being it was possible to be – and she was. Olive had also attempted to hide the fear and the devastation that was now ripping her heart in two, and had busied herself so she didn’t have to think about this moment. This agonisingly lonely moment that only a mother would know.
As she followed her only child – who was no longer a child – out to the street to put the luggage in the taxi, her heart felt as if it was trying to burst out of her throat. Any moment now Tilly would be gone. Off to another way of life. Meeting different people. Experiencing new things that she, Olive, had never had a chance to do. But she didn’t begrudge Tilly her new life. How could she? She too would have done exactly the same thing if she’d had the chance.
But that didn’t mean she wouldn’t miss and worry about her until she was safely back home again and it didn’t mean she would rest until she saw her darling daughter once more. In her mind she silently scolded the leaders of this great country for wanting her daughter’s services. Although it was little consolation, she reminded herself with some pride that they only took the best.
‘’Bye Mum,’ Tilly said, her eyes brimming with tears. ‘I’ll let you know how I get on.’
‘You better had, my girl.’ Olive gave Tilly a gentle admonishment, which seemed to lighten the heavy mood as the neighbours all stood around. Olive so wished they would go away and leave her and Tilly alone for a few moments, but it was not to be.
‘You take care of yourself now, Tilly,’ said Mrs Windle, ‘and may the good lord watch over you and keep you safe.’ Tilly nodded and gently withdrew the hand that Mrs Windle was tightly gripping.
‘Go on now, love.’ Olive took a deep breath, and although she didn’t want to see her go, she couldn’t bear to witness her daughter’s agony much longer, knowing how much Tilly hated goodbyes. ‘Before you miss your train.’ She was still waving as the taxi pulled around the corner out of sight.
‘Agnes, I want you to go down to the deep shelter, there has been a report that something is amiss.’
‘What’s amiss?’ Agnes could feel the panic rise to her throat. It was very dark in the deep-level shelter below the underground that had been built after the bombings had forced the government to re-think their plans and construct a system of deeper shelters linked to existing tube stations.
They had been built at public expense on the understanding the railway could take them over after the war. Although they were places of safety for the public there were no actual stations, as the diameter of the tunnels was too small for trains. Agnes knew each shelter had two decks, fully equipped with bunks and medical posts, kitchens and toilets and each installation could accommodate over eight thousand people; she also knew that, having been only partly finished, none was put to use as yet and it was very lonely down there.
Being scared of her own shadow, Agnes was not too keen to go on her own. However, she knew that if she refused to carry out her duty this could be seen as an act of cowardice and she would have to suffer the consequences; she had no choice. So, firmly gripping her torch, she headed for the circular concrete pillbox that would lead her down to the subterranean tunnel below.
Agnes put her foot on the first rung of the steep-looking spiral staircase that would take her to the shelter whilst in her mouth, now sandpaper dry, she held her torch until she reached the first of the two layers of the dark tunnel.
Taking the torch from her mouth she switched it on and even the tiny click of the switch seemed to echo around the curve of the walls. Agnes stopped for a moment, not sure what she should be listening for. Surely she should have a male porter with her now, she thought nervously. What if there was a German spy waiting to catch her from behind! Her thoughts ran amok and she knew she would have to calm down otherwise her rising hysteria threatened to overwhelm her.
Taking a deep breath, Agnes put her back against the wall, taking no chances, and she slid crab-like along, her torch giving off a weak circular glow until she reached an opening off the main access tunnel.
Suddenly there was a noise and she stopped, hardly daring to breathe. What was it? she wondered. Peering into the feeble light she searched for whatever it was that had made the sound. For she had definitely heard something. Taking low, shallow breaths of dusty air Agnes edged forward, her fear now replaced by something she hadn’t felt for a long time: that steely determination she had found from somewhere when one of her little charges had been in danger at the orphanage. She had risen above her dread so they couldn’t see her fear. That same feeling was beginning to fill her now; she had to get to the bottom of this. If she could save only one of her countrymen’s lives this day it would be worth the fear and the … There it was again!
She heard a low half-moan that chilled her to the bone. It couldn’t be an animal. How would one get down here anyway? A little voice inside her head told her a curious cat might find its way in and, being able to see in the dark, would have no bother getting itself into a sticky situation. But what if it was feral? she argued with herself. It could scratch her eyes out and she wouldn’t be able to see her way back.
‘Is anybody there?’ Her quavering voice was growing deceptively stronger; if she was going to do this thing she was going to do it properly, she had to think of her country now, she had to think of the safety of her fellow man. ‘Come on, I know you’re in here! Show your face before I set the dogs on you. I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it, so out you come!’ She knew she sounded absurd, armed only with a torch, but she just shouted the first thing that came into her head.
A small noise from the far end of the passageway alerted her to whoever it was hiding there and she shone her torch only to see what looked like a small bundle of rags. On closer inspection, Agnes could see it was a small boy and if she wasn’t mistaken she had seen him somewhere before.
‘Freddy? Freddy, is that you?’ Agnes could not believe her eyes, as the little boy, no older than nine or ten, crawled from beneath the building materials left by the workmen and suddenly her heart went out to the sobbing child who, by the looks of it, had been so scared he had wet himself.
‘I want my daddy … I want my mummy …’ he sobbed over and over again. Hurrying to his side Agnes held him as he sobbed on her shoulder. She wasn’t surprised that tears ran down her own face too.
‘How did you get down here?’ she cried, holding him at arm’s length, making sure he wasn’t hurt. ‘Don’t you know it’s dangerous to come down here on your own, especially if nobody knows where you are.’
‘But … Barney said …’ he sobbed ‘… he said he had to see the older boys … They were chasing us … he said he would come back … for me …’
‘When was this?’ Agnes asked, sure she had seen the two boys playing near Olive’s salad patch earlier.
‘I don’t know,’ the young lad cried as she put her arm around him and hugged him close before calming him and leading him back through the long tunnel towards the spiral staircase and freedom.
‘All right, we’ll soon get you home,’ Agnes said in soothing tones, ‘and that Barney will find it hard to sit down when his father gets his hands on him, I’m sure.’
Darkness wrapped itself around the houses in Article Row as the inhabitants grew more frantic. It would be nigh on impossible to find a child in the blackout, they said, causing even more distress to Nancy, who had sat at Olive’s hearth all afternoon chewing her nails and wailing like a banshee, although, Olive noted, she didn’t seem upset enough to get up and do anything about it.
‘When that Barney comes in here he will feel the back of my hand,’ she said, her words laced with venom, ‘and I hope that you will thrash him until he cannot sit down, Serg
eant.’
‘I will certainly give him a good talking to when I find out what has happened but I don’t hold with thrashing some sense into a boy of his age.’
‘Spare the rod and spoil the child, that’s what I say,’ Nancy spat, ‘and we’ve seen plenty of proof of that with feral children all over the place.’
‘Oh, I don’t think so, Mrs Black,’ said Mrs Windle, the vicar’s wife. ‘We have some lovely children at Sunday school, they are a credit to their mothers.’
‘Be that as it may, Mrs Windle, but I don’t think that Barney boy can be redeemed – he isn’t the redeeming type.’
‘And what is the redeeming type, Nancy?’ asked Olive. ‘Would that be the type who run off in the night and bring home a premature baby six months later …?’
‘I do not know to what you are alluding, Olive, but it sounds quite malicious to me!’
Everybody knew that Nancy’s daughter had run away some years earlier, only to come back with a premature babe in arms and a new husband in tow.
‘Malicious is as malicious does, Nancy,’ Olive said, but she was interrupted by a rumpus outside. She hoped that Barney and Freddy had been safely found. If nothing else their return would allow her to have her kitchen back.
‘They’re here!’ cried Agnes, bringing the two boys up the long narrow hallway towards the kitchen, Barney looking dishevelled and sporting a swollen eye that was quickly turning from red to purple whilst Freddy was lagging behind holding Agnes’s hand.
After a garbled explanation in which Barney said they had been chased by bigger boys Nancy Black lashed out at him, catching him a walloping thump on the side of his head.
‘That’s from me,’ she spat, causing foaming saliva to spray all over the boy, ‘because I know he won’t chastise you!’ She pointed to Archie. ‘And look at the state of you!’ she continued, ignoring Agnes who tried to explain that the two boys had been waylaid by bullies twice their size. ‘This is what I thought would happen if my Freddy got mixed up with the likes of him.’ She pointed to Barney.
‘Hang on a minute …’ Olive was just about to remonstrate with her neighbour but she was gently stopped by Archie who shook his head.
‘It’s enough that they are home safe and sound,’ Archie said, ruffling Barney’s hair. ‘C’mon, son, let’s get that eye looked at, shall we.’
‘Well!’ Nancy was affronted. ‘It’s no supper for this one tonight, I’ll show him that he can’t just run off and do as he pleases – like some I could mention.’
There was not a hint of gratitude to Agnes or Barney for rescuing the little boy from the bigger bullies. Nor did Nancy show any relief that he had been found safe when she said angrily, ‘Now get next door and straight up those stairs to bed. As if I haven’t got enough on my plate as it is!’
Everybody assembled in Olive’s kitchen looked at each other, no doubt wondering what Nancy had to put up with that was so different to any other beleaguered Londoner just now. Agnes, although not expecting any word of thanks for bringing Freddy back in one piece, had expected his frantic grandmother to show the boy a little compassion and give him a reassuring cuddle.
‘That woman would turn the milk of human nature sour, I’m sure,’ Olive said, shaking her head in disbelief as she watched Nancy take her young grandson’s hand and drag him out of the house.
Only a Mother Knows
ELEVEN
Double-checking she had her travel warrant and her identification card, Tilly made her way to Waterloo station where the platform was packed with men dressed in khaki, and the distinctive blues of the air force and navy. She looked around the station, her mouth drying as her stomach did somersaults. She had never travelled alone before and wondered what she had let herself in for.
She’d heard the obnoxious sobriquets, like ‘officer’s groundsheets’, that had been attached to the ATS; she knew they weren’t true and had been spread by malicious tongues at the beginning of the war, but she was also aware the ATS had proved themselves invaluable in the three years since, and even though she was proud to be ‘doing her bit’, she was still anxious at the prospect. This was a new life for her now and she imagined Agnes had felt much the same when she left the orphanage; how she wished she had been there to say goodbye to her good friend and confidante before she left home. She was going to miss their nightly chats about everything: the war, the rationing, their sweethearts. Oh what had she done?
Tilly shuffled on the platform. Apart from the rare week away when she was younger, she had never strayed far from Article Row and her job as Almoner’s assistant at Bart’s hospital, so as well as being a huge adventure, her enrolment into the Territorials made her feel anxious. What if she wasn’t up to the training? What if she didn’t like it? Too bad, she thought, it’s too late to do anything about it now.
Her thoughts were cut short when the train pulled in five minutes later and, clutching her suitcase and a piece of paper giving her the address of the camp she was to report to, she jostled with the servicemen to try to find somewhere to sit. Coughing in the pall of cigarette smoke that permeated every available space, Tilly moved slowly along the corridor, looking into each carriage and beginning to lose hope that she would ever find an empty one. She didn’t want to sit in a carriage full of servicemen, overhearing their stories of war told in the colourful language of men who had somehow forgotten how to behave in the presence of a lady; her mother would have been appalled if she knew Tilly was within earshot of such expletives. But as she sidled towards the back of the train she realised she might not have a choice.
‘Here y’are, darlin’, there’s a seat free in ’ere!’ called a soldier, pointing to his knee. Smiling politely, Tilly declined his invitation, feeling very apprehensive indeed, especially as they all laughed when she scurried down the corridor. Just as she was beginning to think she would have to stand for the duration of the journey she encountered a carriage right at the end of the train containing women only; obviously the servicemen were used to this kind of travelling and had made a beeline for the best carriages. Tilly noticed that there was enough space for one more passenger and she was determined it was going to be her.
Already tired from the scramble to find a seat Tilly threw her case onto the luggage rack above the heads of girls of her own age sitting reading and smoking, and who came in all shapes and sizes. One looked dowdy, as if she’d never seen the inside of a bathroom before; another was loud, telling the others what she was going to do when she got her first pay packet – spend it on going dancing and meeting servicemen, no doubt, thought Tilly critically; and a girl near the window, who moved over to let Tilly in, was in tears as the train began to pull out.
Tilly looked out of the window and watched as the train passed through anonymous stations, all signs removed for the duration of the war. She envied the flying birds in passing fields as she watched them swoop and soar in the still-blue sky and realised that she too felt free at last. It was a heady sensation that made her slip down in her seat a little before closing her eyes and wallowing in this new and strange excitement. She loved her mother dearly and would never do anything to upset or disgrace her. But there was no denying there came a time in a girl’s life when she had to learn to stand on her own two feet and not rely on her mother. And now was just the right time for her, especially with Drew so far away.
She couldn’t imagine what the future would hold, only that she would have to live it without him. However, this was a new chapter in her life – and his – so they would have to make the best of it. She didn’t have time to ponder on his lack of communication any further as the train stopped and moments later another girl around the same age as herself trundled into the compartment and, in the midst of chaotic chatter, positioned herself in between Tilly and the whimpering girl sitting next to her who had no choice but to shift herself up, whilst the girls on the other end were squashed.
‘Don’t mind me!’ the girl on the end said raising her eyes from the book she was reading.<
br />
‘Sorry, love, you don’t mind, do you?’ said the new girl, who had leaned over to put her suitcase onto the luggage rack just as the train lurched and ended up on Tilly’s knee.
‘Careful,’ Tilly said, slightly peeved at having her quiet reverie disturbed by a crowd of baying hyenas who had no thought for others. The girl excused herself and sat next to Tilly, wriggling into the small space. The manicured blonde, who reminded Tilly of Dulcie going by the rolling eyes under heavily mascaraed lashes, took her cigarettes from her bag with a disgruntled sigh. However she did offer them around and most of the girls took one, but much to Tilly’s relief the girl sitting next to her said no. However, Tilly soon realised that her hair, freshly washed that morning with the last of her precious shampoo, would soon smell no better than an ashtray.
‘So, where you off to then?’ asked the new arrival.
Tilly was just about to tell her that loose lips sink ships when another girl piped up,
‘We’re all off to the ATS training camp.’
‘Should you be telling me that?’ Tilly asked, surprised at their candour. ‘I could be anyone, you know.’
‘Well, “Anyone”, I’m Janet. Where you off to then?’ the girl sitting next to her asked and Tilly started laughing, thinking Janet was a fast worker and no mistake.
‘I’m Tilly, and I suppose I’m going to the same place as you.’
Suddenly the day took an even brighter turn as the girls all got to know each other. By the time they reached their destination it was as if they had been friends with each other for years. Tilly knew her mother would be pleased she had made some pals so soon. And shortly afterwards the train chugged into the station on a cloud of white smoke and a high-pitched, mournful whistle.
All the girls stood up and after grabbing their suitcases and bags from the overhead luggage rack slowly shuffled out of the carriage with Tilly trailing behind them, wondering what was ahead of her. She soon found out when as if out of nowhere came a strident female voice: ‘Come on now, get a move on, we’ve got no time for slouches!’
