Red Sky in the Morning (22 page)

‘Oh, you’re soaked through. Come in, come in. There’s a good fire and hot food.’

The little boy held out his arms to be helped down, but the woman sat still on the trailer, clutching her crying infant to her but staring straight ahead as if she was unaware of Anna’s
presence.

Eddie jumped down from the tractor and came to stand beside Anna.

‘Poor thing,’ he murmured. ‘She’s in shock, I reckon. Her husband’s missing.’

‘How terrible,’ Anna said and then raised her voice, ‘Come along, love. Let’s get you and the little one inside.’

At last, with Tony’s urging, the woman allowed him to take the baby from her and hand it gently down to Anna. Then, woodenly, the woman climbed down from the trailer and moved into the
cottage. But it was as if she was unaware of anything around her. She didn’t seem to be aware of her own discomfort or even to notice the crying of her baby.

Anna sat the forlorn little family before her fire, wrapped them in blankets and ladled out hot soup, thick with pieces of meat and sliced vegetables.

‘I call this “full-up soup”,’ Anna said, trying to raise a smile from the little boy. But he was white-faced and silent, the shock and terror showing in his eyes.

Maisie appeared in the doorway, a shawl over her nightdress, her bare feet sticking out below the uneven hem. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and stared at the strangers sitting in their kitchen.
Then she sidled across the room to stand beside Tony, but stared wordlessly at the young boy, who was now eating the soup hungrily.

‘We’re going back—’ Eddie said, making for the door.

‘Not before you’ve had a warm and something hot to eat,’ Anna said firmly. ‘Come on, sit down at the table. You too, Tony.’

‘But—’

‘No “buts”. You can’t help folks if you’re exhausted yourselves.’

‘By heck.’ Tony grinned, sitting down. ‘She’s getting to be a right bossy boots.’

Despite the tragedy that was unfolding all the way down the east coast of Britain, Eddie managed a brief smile. ‘Aye, but she’s right, lad.’

They tucked into a large bowl of soup and crusty fresh bread, but within minutes they were both rising and leaving the cottage. ‘We’ll have to go back, lass.’

Anna nodded. ‘Take care then. Both of you.’

When they had gone, it was strangely quiet in the cottage. Only the wind, still howling outside, disturbed the silence.

‘What’s your name, love?’ Anna asked the woman, who had scarcely touched the soup. She sat clutching the blanket around her and rocking to and fro. Then she began a strange
keening, a kind of dry-eyed crying.

‘Don’t, Mam.’ The young boy stood up and put his arm about his mother. ‘Dad’ll be all right. The mester said he’d go back and look for him.’

But his mother just shook her head in a hopeless gesture. ‘He’s gone. I know he’s gone.’

The boy glanced helplessly at Anna, who was nursing the baby and trying to spoon some warm milk into the little mouth, all the while wishing that Pat Jessop would walk through the door and take
charge.

‘What’s your name?’ Now Anna addressed the boy, who seemed to be recovering from their ordeal more quickly than his mother.

‘Peter Warren.’

‘And your mam’s?’

‘Clare. And the babby’s called Susie.’

Without warning, the woman suddenly stood up, threw off the blanket from around her shoulders and stumbled towards the door. ‘If Bill’s gone, I don’t want to
live—’

Before Anna could reach her, Clare pulled open the door and rushed out into the wild early morning. ‘I don’t want to live any more,’ she wailed, her words caught and tossed
callously away by the gale.

‘Here, hold the baby, Peter,’ Anna said. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get her back. Stay here.’

Snatching her coat from the peg behind the door and pulling it on, Anna hurried out into the storm leaving the two children and the baby. The woman was stumbling down the slope towards the
stream, her arms stretched wide, her lament carried on the wind. A loud, hopeless wailing that chilled Anna’s heart.

If she reaches the water
, Anna thought,
I’ll lose her.

The stream was a rushing torrent from recent rain and a smattering of snow. The woman could be swept away. She was teetering on the bank when Anna grabbed her around the waist and
unceremoniously pulled her to the ground. They rolled over and over, locked together in a desperate struggle, the one determined to end her misery, the other stubbornly refusing to let her throw
her life away. They rolled over the edge of the bank and slithered into the icy torrent. The breath was knocked from Anna’s body, the water gurgled in her ears, but she held on fast, her arms
around the woman’s waist. Suddenly Clare stopped struggling and went limp in Anna’s grasp. Together, they were carried a few yards, bumping along stones and rocks on the bed of the
stream.

Then Anna surfaced, gulping in air. Somehow she gained a foothold and dragged herself to the edge, lugging the dead weight of the woman with her. Panting, she lay on the sloping bank, half in,
half out of the water. And still Anna held on to her burden. Gasping, she struggled to heave herself up, but all the time she refused to let go, not even for a second, in case Clare was feigning
weakness in an effort to break free when she felt Anna’s hold relax. But Anna was determined not to let go.

Just as she had once been saved, now she vowed to haul this distraught and desperate woman back from the brink.

At last they lay side by side on the grass beside the stream. For a moment Anna knelt beside the prone form, bending double to regain her breath. The woman was still and silent.

‘Oh no,’ Anna breathed and then she screamed and grasped Clare, shaking her. ‘No! You can’t die. You can’t leave your bairns. Think of your children.’

And now, in that instant as she shrieked at the woman, dragging her back to life by the sheer force of her own spirit, Anna realized just what Eddie had done for her. He had saved her life
– and Maisie’s. And now she had the chance to save someone in return.

‘I won’t let you die. I won’t
let
you!’ But there was no spark of life. Anna felt utterly helpless. Again she shook Clare hard. Miraculously, the woman stirred
and began to cough, spewing out stream water, and Anna felt tears of thankfulness.

It was several minutes before Clare was sufficiently recovered to allow Anna to half drag, half carry her across the field and back to the cottage. Maisie was watching out of the window and
opened the door for them. By the look on her daughter’s face, Anna knew that Maisie had witnessed the struggle near the stream.

Much later, when the boy was asleep in Maisie’s bed and Clare, washed and resting in Anna’s, the little girl confided, ‘I didn’t tell the boy, Mam. He was by the fire,
holding the baby, so he didn’t see. And I didn’t tell him.’

Anna drew her close and buried her face in the child’s copper-coloured curls. ‘Oh Maisie, my precious darling,’ she murmured huskily. Whilst Maisie returned her mother’s
hug fiercely, she had no understanding of the tumult of emotions in Anna’s heart. Guilt, thankfulness and an overwhelming gratitude to Eddie Appleyard that words could never express.

A shivering Eddie and Tony sat wrapped in blankets before the fire and sipped Anna’s hot soup gratefully. A restless daybreak had shown them the full extent of the
disaster.

‘A lot of the folks that had to be evacuated have been brought to Ludthorpe or other official rescue centres,’ Eddie told her, ‘but they’re trying to find homes willing
to take some of them in. Give them a bit more comfort, like. Poor devils.’

‘There’s lots of families got split up,’ Tony put in. ‘One poor chap couldn’t find his little lad. He was – he was six.’ Tony’s voice broke as he
glanced at Maisie and then, wordlessly, he reached out and touched her cheek. He said no more but his gesture spoke volumes.

‘Is there any news of Clare’s husband?’ Anna asked softly.

Sadly, Eddie shook his head. Then, more briskly, he stood up and shook off the blanket. ‘Well, this won’t do. There’s still more to be fetched to safety. To say nothing of
taking feed to stranded animals.’

‘You’re not going back?’ Anna said, before she could stop herself. ‘You’re out on your feet, Eddie.’

‘I’ve got to, lass. Whilst there’s folks still needing help—’

Tony began to stand up too, but Eddie put his hand on his shoulder. ‘No, lad, you go home. You’ve done enough.’

Tony straightened up and met his father’s gaze steadily. Quietly, he said, ‘If you’re going back, Dad, then so am I.’

Anna watched father and son standing together and marvelled at the likeness between them. Tony was so like his father in appearance; brown hair and eyes, tall and thin, but without the slight
stoop that years of hard work had brought Eddie. And now the son was showing that same kindness and concern for others.

‘Come on then, lad, though what your mam’s going to say, I don’t know.’

Later that night Bertha had plenty to say.

‘You’ve done what?’ she shrieked.

‘Lost me tractor and trailer.’

‘How on earth can you lose a tractor and trailer?’

Eddie sighed. ‘It got stuck in the sand and the mud and now it’s been bulldozed into the sea wall.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘Because they’re desperate to shore up the defences and—’

‘And they thought they’d use your tractor and trailer, eh?’

‘No, Bertha, just listen, will you? We got stuck and they haven’t time to be pulling stuff out. It’s a race against time. There’s an army of lorries bringing stone and
slag – anything they can find to shore up the defences. And any vehicle that got stuck has ended up as part of the sea wall.’

‘Just think, Dad.’ Tony was laughing. ‘You’ll be able to walk along the sea wall and say: my tractor’s somewhere under this lot.’

‘You think it funny, d’ya?’ For once Bertha rounded on Tony, venting her anger. ‘You’ve not had a thought for me, ’ave ya, whilst you’ve been busy
playing the heroes. Well, I’ve been worried sick about you.’ Her gaze rested on her son and Eddie knew that her anxiety had not included him. Now she turned to her husband.
‘You’d no right to take him with you. Owt could have happened to him—’

Tony put his arm around her quivering shoulders. ‘Well, it didn’t. And Dad couldn’t have stopped me going to help. And you’d much rather I’d’ve been with him,
wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘Oh, Mam, don’t be like this. You should have seen all those poor folks. Their homes flooded, washed away in some cases. Some of ’em had only got the clothes they stood up
in.’

Bertha sniffed. ‘Huh. Next thing they’ll be coming round for a collection for ’em, I shouldn’t wonder. Well, they’ll get short shrift here now we’ve got a new
tractor and trailer to buy.’ She shrugged Tony’s arm away. ‘I’ll get your supper. That’s unless you’re both off out again with the pony and trap.’

Father and son exchanged a glance. ‘No,’ Eddie said wearily, ‘there’s nothing more we can do.’

‘There is one thing I’d like to do, Dad,’ Tony said softly as his mother disappeared into the scullery.

Bone weary, Eddie leant back in his chair and closed his eyes. ‘What’s that, lad?’

‘Go round all the rescue centres. See if we can find that poor woman’s husband.’

Eddie opened his eyes and lifted his head. ‘Clare’s, you mean?’

Tony nodded. ‘It’s the least we can do, specially after what – ’ he glanced quickly towards the scullery and lowered his voice even more – ‘Anna
did.’

‘Taking her in, you mean?’

‘Oh no. She did more than that. Maisie told me.’ Swiftly, before his mother returned, Tony explained. ‘Anna saved that woman’s life.’

For a moment, Eddie stared at his son and then slowly began to smile. ‘Then the least we can do, son, is what you suggest.’ As Bertha came back into the room, Eddie winked slyly at
Tony and then raised his voice, ‘D’you know, Bertha love, that was a very good idea of yours. Tomorrow we will take the pony and trap.’

His wife stared at him for a moment as if she thought he had gone completely mad. Then with a scornful snort, she banged the plates down onto the table. She turned and stormed out of the room,
leaving father and son trying hard to stifle their laughter.

The following morning, after milking and feeding all the animals, Eddie harnessed Duke into the shafts of the trap.

‘We’ll go and see Anna and the woman – what’s her name, Tony?’

‘Clare. Clare Warren and her husband’s name is Bill.’

‘Aye, that’s right. We’ll go and see them first and make sure there’s nothing they want.’

‘The only thing that poor woman wants is her husband back.’

Eddie’s face was sober. ‘Aye, aye.’ He sighed. ‘We’ll do our best, but I don’t hold out much hope. I reckon, if they’d found him, they’d have let
us know.’

Tony was more optimistic. ‘Oh, I don’t know, Dad. They’re all that busy. It’s a nightmare for the authorities.’

‘I suppose you’re right. He might have slipped through the net and be somewhere just as desperate about his family. I wonder if that other feller found his little lad.’ Eddie
was suddenly still. ‘He said his lad was about six, didn’t he? And that little lad up yonder is about that age. You don’t suppose it was him – the father, do you?’

Reluctantly, Tony shook his head. ‘Too much of a coincidence, I reckon. Besides, he’d have mentioned his wife and baby, wouldn’t he?’

Eddie sighed. ‘Aye, I suppose so. I’m just clutching at straws, I reckon.’

Tony grinned. ‘Well, just you keep clutching at ’em, Dad. Keep hoping.’

They visited the town hall in Ludthorpe and were appalled at the number of people made homeless by the disaster. Several families were frantic with worry over a missing loved one. Eddie tried to
speak to the organizers about Bill Warren, but they too were now exhausted and overwhelmed.

‘He’s not here. That’s all I can tell you, but you could try all the villages just inland from the coast. They’ve opened up schools and village halls to help out,’
one harassed WVS lady suggested. ‘But he could be anywhere. Do you know him?’

‘Not exactly, but his wife’s given us a good description. Tall, broad, fair hair and a little scar under his left eye from an accident when he was a kid.’