Moonlight and Ashes (11 page)

Swinging about, she dived back into the house, closely followed by Maggie, and between them they soon had two feather mattresses and a pile of pillows stacked at the top of the stairs.

‘You get those into the shelter an’ I’ll grab some beddin’,’ Ellen commanded in a voice that brooked no argument. Minutes later, when she staggered back across the yard with her arms full of blankets, she dared to glance up at the sky. It seemed to be full of planes and she shuddered. It looked as if they were in for it tonight, all right.

Once inside the shelter she hastily closed the door, and for the benefit of the children, who were all wide-eyed with fright, she fixed a smile to her face.

‘Now then, we’re going to camp out tonight. That will be nice, won’t it?’

‘Don’t want to camp out in here. It smells funny - an’ where’s me dad?’ Tears were glistening on Lizzie’s long lashes and she had to shout to make herself heard above the steady drone of the planes.

As if Maggie had only just thought about Sam, she glanced fearfully at her mother.

‘Your dad will be fine,’ Ellen assured the little girl.

Maggie was full of admiration for her mother, who was as calm as could be.

‘He’ll go into the pub cellar, no doubt,’ she added. ‘Right - let’s get these beds made up for now, eh? We’ll have you as snug as a bug in a rug in no time.’

For all the world as if this was an everyday occurrence, Ellen Sharp swung the mattresses onto the bedframes and in no time at all she had tucked the children in.

‘There, now. You all snuggle down and try to get back to sleep. Everything will be OK, you’ll see.’

Lizzie, who was lying next to Danny in the top bunk, cuddled up close to her brother, her eyes wide and fearful in the light of a candle that Maggie had lit.

‘Are they goin’ to drop bombs on us, Gran?’ she whispered.

Her grandma smoothed her cheek. ‘I don’t know, sweetheart,’ she answered truthfully. ‘But even if they do, they can’t hurt us while we’re all in here.’ Crossing to Maggie, who was perched on the edge of the old easy chair her mother had given to her, she pressed her hand reassuringly and whispered, ‘Try an’ stay calm now, love. For the sake o’ the kids, eh?’

She squeezed onto the chair at the side of her daughter and wrapped her arms around her. Maggie nestled her head on her mother’s shoulder as terror swept over her in waves.

‘What about me dad?’ she said. ‘He’s over at the house all on his own.’

‘He’ll be all right,’ Ellen soothed. ‘Bill is big an’ ugly enough to take care of himself. He’ll go into the cupboard under the stairs, an’ he knows I’m here with you, so stop worrying.’

The two women fell silent as the racket overhead grew louder by the minute. And then they heard a loud whistling noise followed by the sound of a huge explosion. Maggie almost jumped out of her skin.

‘Sshh.’ Ellen cuddled her even closer. ‘Don’t get panicking. They’ll be aiming for Ansty Aerodrome an’ the factories. We should be safe enough. We’ve just got to sit it out.’

Amazingly, after a time the children drifted off back to sleep. Maggie felt as if she was trapped in a nightmare as she clung to her mother for dear life. The candle sputtered, casting an eerie glow about their tiny sanctuary, and the two women began to pray as they had never prayed before.

After what seemed an eternity, Ellen rose and approached the door. Inching it open, she peered out into the night and the sight that she saw made her mouth gape in amazement. The sky overhead was as bright as day, as thousands of tiny incendiary bombs drifted down, like tiny multi-coloured fairy-lights on parachutes. The bombs that were raining down shook the ground and she hastily elbowed the door back to.

‘What’s happening out there?’

When Maggie’s terrified voice floated to her she shrugged. ‘Can’t really say. But it’ll be all right. You’ll see.’ But despite her encouraging words, Ellen Sharp’s heart was heavy. She had an awful feeling that many people would lose their lives this night.

Time seemed to stand still. They had no way of knowing how long they had been trapped in their tiny prison. All they did know was that the night seemed to last for a lifetime. Over and over again, the earth beneath them shook as an explosion ripped through the air. Apart from that, the only other sound that could be heard was the clanging bells of the fire engines and ambulances as they raced towards the fires that were springing up across the city.

At last, the drone of the planes subsided and after a time, the all clear sounded.

‘Is it over?’ Maggie held her breath as she stared through the gloomy light into her mother’s face.

‘I think so, love. At least for now. You stay there wi’ the children while I go out an’ see what’s goin’ on.’ Rising painfully, she straightened and lumbered towards the door, half-afraid of what she might see when she opened it. The first thing that struck her was the overpowering smell of burning. Huge columns of smoke darkened the dawn sky, as if they were trying to blot out the sun that was just peeping over the horizon. She could hear doors opening and closing and people running up and down the street as they too emerged from their shelters and hurried away to check on their friends and neighbours.

Becoming aware of Maggie, who had come to stand at her elbow, she nodded when Maggie told her, ‘I’m just going to pop over the road an’ check that Dad is all right, Mam. You wait there, I’ll be back in a tick.’

Yanking the yard gate open, Maggie fled down the entry, breathing a sigh of relief as she saw that all the houses opposite were still standing.

‘Are you all all right, love?’ Mrs Massey shouted as she emerged from her front door looking tired and bleary-eyed.

‘Yes, thanks! I’m just going to check that me dad’s OK.’

Maggie impatiently waited for a fire engine to speed past with its bells clanging before darting nimbly across the street. She threw her parents’ front door open and shouted, ‘Dad - it’s me! Where are you?’ After the noise and activity in the street the house felt unnaturally quiet as she waited for her father to reply. Guessing that he was probably still asleep in the cupboard under the stairs, she started towards it with a smile on her face. Her mam had always joked that Bill could sleep through anything, and it was beginning to look like he had. However, when she flung the door open, the smile slid from her face. Because the houses on the opposite side of the street to Maggie didn’t have room for an Anderson shelter in the back yard, her mam had long since cleared all the rubbish out from under the stairs and made up a bed of sorts in there. At a glance it was obvious that it hadn’t been slept in.

Maggie frowned. Perhaps he’d decided to go to bed and to hell with it. Fear lent speed to her legs as she thumped up the stairs, but again she was presented with a tidy - and empty - bed.

Systematically she checked every room in the house but there was no sign of her father anywhere. Unlocking the back door, she stepped into a shared yard where her mother’s neighbour was staring up at the smoke-blackened sky.

‘You ain’t seen me dad this morning, have you?’ she asked.

The woman shook her head. ‘Can’t say as I have, Maggie. I heard him go out last night just before the commotion started though. I thought he were coming over to you.’

‘Thanks, Mrs Hughes.’ Maggie locked up and returned home. Her mother was still in the shelter with the children who had just woken up.

‘There’s no sign of him, Mam,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Mrs Hughes says she heard him go out last night but she ain’t seen him since.’

Ellen frowned. ‘He’d probably popped up the shop for his Woodbines. But why wouldn’t he have come back?’ An edge of fear had crept into her voice and now it was Maggie’s turn to comfort her.

‘Try not to worry, Mam. He probably slipped into a shelter somewhere when everything kicked off. Let’s get the children inside and give them some breakfast, shall we? I shan’t be sending them to school today an’ I’m certainly not turning into work. Look, by the time we’ve sorted the kids out, Dad will have turned up like a bad penny.’

Lifting Lucy from the bunk, she ushered the twins in front of her. Once they were all seated around the kitchen table the questions began.

‘Did they drop many bombs, Mam?’ The first was from Danny.

‘I’m not sure, love. It certainly sounded like it.’

‘Will they come back and drop some more today?’ The next was from Lizzie who was trembling like a jelly.

Maggie gulped as she stirred milk into a large pan of porridge. ‘I hope not, sweetheart. But let’s try not to worry about it for now. We’ll have some breakfast and then I’m sure we’ll all feel much better.’

Her mother had wandered off into the front room and was peering up and down the street for a sign of her husband. After a few minutes she rejoined Maggie in the kitchen. ‘There’s no sign of yer dad, but Sam’s lumberin’ down the street like he’s got the weight o’ the world on his shoulders.’

Maggie supposed that she should feel a measure of relief, but there was nothing but resentment. Once again when she and the children had needed him, he had let them down. She listened to his heavy tread in the entry and the sound of the back gate opening, and then he was there in the doorway, looking, as her mother put it, like death warmed up.

He flung his cap onto the chair, unable to meet their eyes as the two women stared at him. After a time he muttered, ‘I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. Could yer both come into the front room away from little ears?’

Maggie hastily filled the children’s bowls then on leaden feet she followed her mother and her husband into the immaculate little front parlour that was only used on high days and holidays.

Once out of earshot of the children, both women looked at him expectantly and, unsure of where to begin, Sam shuffled from foot to foot.

‘Thing is, I were in the Three Shuttles when the air-raid siren sounded, so me an’ all the other customers went down an’ spent the night in the cellar there. When we come out this mornin’ I bumped into Jack Morris who used to work wi’ yer dad, an’ it were him that told me . . .’

When his voice trailed away, Maggie shook his arm.
‘Told you what?’

He looked from one to the other before gulping deep in his throat and continuing. ‘Seems they had a hit down by the Swanswell pool. Yer dad were just comin’ out o’ the shop nearby an’ . . .’

‘He’s dead, ain’t he?’ Ellen’s voice was empty of any feeling whatsoever.

Sam nodded miserably, and as his words sank in, Maggie began to quietly sob. They stood for some minutes until Ellen turned and made towards the door. ‘I’d best get off then. Do you know where they’ve taken him?’

‘Jack thinks they took the bodies to the morgue at the Coventry and Warwick Hospital. They’re asking for the next-of-kin to go and identify the bodies.’

‘I’ll go, Mam, if you don’t feel up to it,’ Maggie offered tearfully.

‘No, it’s all right, love. It should be me that goes.’

‘It er . . . might not be a very pretty sight,’ Sam warned her quietly.

Ellen drew herself up to her full height. ‘It would take more than a bloody bomb to stop me recognisin’
my
man. After bein’ wed fer over thirty-five years I know every inch of his body like the back of me hand.’

Turning about, she quietly slipped away. Maggie knew that she should be going after her, but her feet felt as if they’d been glued to the floor and the pain in her heart was so intense that for some minutes she couldn’t even speak.

It took a while for her to realise that Sam was speaking again, and a great effort to concentrate on what he was saying.

‘I can’t believe I’ve gone an’ done it.’ His voice seemed to be coming from a long way away.

‘Done what?’ Maggie asked distractedly.

His hands balled into fists of frustration. ‘Ain’t you heard a single bloody word I’ve been saying? I’ve been tryin’ to tell yer. I went an’ had a few pints yesterday dinner. I know, before yer start yer naggin’, that I shouldn’t have, but the thing is, I got into a bit of a barney wi’ an Army chap on leave in there. Right toffee-nosed little bastard he were, an’ all. Told me I should be ashamed o’ meself fer doin’ nothin’ when there’s a war on. So I . . .’

‘You what?’

‘I er . . . I went an’ signed up.’

This shock, on top of the news about her father, was too much for Maggie to take in and her legs buckled beneath her.
‘You did what?’
she gasped incredulously.

Suddenly tears spurted from his eyes as he held his hands out to her beseechingly. ‘I never meant to, Maggie. Within an hour I realised what I’d done an’ I went back an’ told ’em I’d changed me mind - but they were havin’ none of it. They told me to stop bein’ so spineless an’ to behave like a man. All very well fer them to say, ain’t it? Sittin’ there behind their neat little desks. But
I
could be on the front line. Oh Maggie, what am I goin’ to do?’

His fear was so tangible that she could almost taste it, and in that moment she saw him for the coward that he really was. Drawing herself up to her full height, she faced him squarely.

‘You’re going to do what you should have done long ago. You’re going to fight for your country. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m goin’ to check on me mam. As you’ve just told us, we’ve lost my dad - an’ I think that makes your dilemma, as you see it, seem rather insignificant, don’t you?’

As she swept past him, his mouth gaped open and he knew that there was no going back.

The morning of 3 July 1940 dawned bright and clear, but Maggie didn’t notice the weather. Today she was going to bury her father and her heart felt as if it was breaking. All morning there was a continuous stream of neighbours tiptoeing in and out of her kitchen, bearing offerings of food for the tea that would take place after the service.

Across the road at her parents’ home, her father was resting in his coffin in the little front parlour. All along the Lane, the curtains were drawn as a mark of respect, and everywhere was unnaturally quiet, for the mothers had kept their children in until after the funeral.