Safe Harbour (12 page)

‘And my grandmother?’

‘Julianne adored Neil, but the loss of a child … well, it’s the wost tragedy that can befall a parent. She carried on, trying to make the best of things. But finally her health broke down and she died a few years later.’

‘And so my Dad came to London.’

‘There was nothing left for him here,’ sighed Aunt Dolly.

‘Then Dad met my Mum!’ said Sophie.

‘Jerome would not attend their wedding. Maud and George and I did our best to persuade him, but he just wouldn’t go.’

‘I know!’ said Sophie.

‘It was hard to understand why.’

Aunt Dolly suddenly looked old and tired and nervous. Fine lines ran in creases around her eyes, and Sophie realised that dark shadows gleamed through her pale skin.

‘I’ve said too much. Always been my trouble – too much of a chatterbox, that’s what George used to say.’

Sophie gave her elderly aunt a hug. ‘Thank you for telling me about my family!’

Aunt Dolly smiled a watery kind of smile. ‘Well, what about some music then?’ She propped a sheet of music on the stand and began to play, her thin fingers skipping over the keys lightly.

Sophie recognised the tune at once. It was an old favourite of her mother’s and Dad had taught her the words.

She began to sing.

Aunt Dolly nodded in approval as Sophie’s clear voice filled the small room and drifted out through the open window across the garden. Sophie sang, thinking of her Mum and Dad and wishing that they were all together again. Why couldn’t things be simple? Why did families have to be so complicated?

Outside, an old man stood listening, surrounded by rose-bushes.

For the next few days Sophie had so much to think about after the visit to Four Corners. It was as if her grandaunt had given her a very large piece of a jigsaw puzzle that had been missing. She began to understand her grandfather’s grumpiness and awkwardness. Now she knew why he had been so angry the day Hugh had almost drowned. It was like history repeating itself, past and present mixed together fighting for attention.

The next weekend Greystones was crowded with visitors as it was the Whit bank-holiday weekend. The morning train had brought lots of people taking advantage of the good weather. They promenaded up and down the seafront, giggling and chattering. Grandfather refused to take his daily walk and sat at the front window, glowering at them all. The harbour and beach were invaded by an army of strange children laden down with buckets and spades, determined to enjoy themselves.

Then, shocking news broke the holiday atmosphere: Dublin’s North Strand had been bombed by a German bomber in the early hours of Saturday morning! Searchlights and an anti-aircraft barrage lit up the dark night sky over the city, but to no effect.

Grandfather’s face was grave as he told the children about the bombing. In little more than half an hour thirty people
had been killed and rows of cottages had collapsed, injuring many more.

Sophie couldn’t understand how it could have happened. Ireland was neutral, they weren’t even in the war. What was going on?

‘Does this mean we have to start carrying our gas masks again?’ asked Hugh.

Sophie hoped not. The two smelly rubber masks had been abandoned to hang on a coat peg in the hall since they’d arrived in Greystones, and she didn’t fancy carrying them around again.

‘We’ll see!’ said Grandfather, leaving his paper and going down to the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea.

Sophie glanced at his newspaper, reading the headlines. Then she saw a report on the effect the bombing had had on Dublin zoo. The bison had stampeded, the monkeys were frightened and the huge elephant had toppled over with the noise and shock of the bombs! Sophie giggled. She remembered the elephant in London zoo, grey and enormous with wizened leathery skin and a slow shambling walk and swinging trunk. Just imagine a great big creature like that toppling over! She laughed helplessly, unable to stop.

Grandfather returned with his cup of tea, and he looked at her strangely.

‘What on earth is so funny?’ he asked.

‘It’s the elephant … toppled right over … all the noise and the anti-aircraft guns and the searchlights and the poor old elephant …’ She was hysterical now, laughing and crying at
the same time.

‘Sophie, calm down,’ said the old man. ‘What …’

But she was unable to stop – it felt as if she was toppling too, just like the elephant. Suddenly she was aware of strong arms lifting her. Grandfather drew her onto his lap and she buried her head against his chest. The strange mixture of crying and laughing shuddered through her. Hugh was standing nearby, his eyes wide, and he was saying words that she just couldn’t make out.

Grandfather held her close. She could feel his strength.

‘I’m so … so scared.’ The words came out, surprising her as they burst from her lips.

‘It’s all right, Sophie! I’m here. Don’t be afraid. I will take care of both of you.’

From a deep, deep hidden corner of her heart, all the fear and loneliness gushed out of her, and still Grandfather held her close, stroking her hair, so that in the end she relaxed against him.

Later, she had hiccups, and Nancy brought her a cup of very sugary tea. Grandfather laid her down on the couch, fixed the tartan rug over her, and told her she must rest until lunchtime.

‘I’ll be in my study if you need me,’ he told her. It was the same thing he had said many times since they had arrived, only now Sophie felt he really meant it.

A few days later, Sophie was still tired. She had slept a lot but it was as if all her energy had drained away. Delayed stress and trauma, that’s what Grandfather said it was. He told her that she had experienced things children were not supposed to be subjected to. He shook his head, thinking of the children of Europe.

He set off for his pre-breakfast walk, and she had heard the front door bang as he left.

Soon Nancy would start getting the breakfast. Hugh was probably still asleep. Sophie decided to stretch herself and get up – she’d had quite enough of being in bed.

She dressed quickly and stood at the wash-hand basin, splashing cold water on to her face to wake herself up, and lathering up the lily-of-the-valley soap Aunt Maud had given her.

Then she heard it! Her stomach churned at the familiar sound, her own pale face stared out at her from the mirror as the throb filled the air. She could almost feel it running through her blood. The heavy droning of an aircraft engine reverberated across the sky.

Hugh ran in, still in his pyjamas. Their eyes met.

‘It’s a bomber!’ screamed Hugh. ‘Where will we shelter?’

Sophie pushed the shutters back, pulled open the curtains and looked out the window.

The sea glimmered, catching the sun’s early-morning rays. She could tell it would be another sunny day – the sky was clear and blue already and there was very little cloud except in the distance. Then she spotted it – the wing – the nose – as it pushed out of the clouds.

‘It’s a Heinkel!’ shouted Hugh. ‘And it’s heading right for us!’

Sophie watched as the rest of the plane cleared the cloud. It was behaving strangely, erratically, none of that steady sweeping approach like every other bomber she’d seen. Smoke curled from one wing.

‘He’s on fire! It’s one of his engines,’ shouted Hugh, leaping up and down with excitement.

The plane seemed to swing down over the water. What was he doing that for? Sophie watched, stunned, as the plane jettisoned its cargo. Two bombs dropped into the deep blue water below. He knows he’s going to crash, she thought, as the bomber lurched wildly, straight in front of their house. The pilot was trying to get it to lift.

‘Run, Hugh! Get out of the house!’

They fled downstairs and out into the hallway, shouting to Nancy who was working in the back kitchen to follow them. They ran down the driveway and out across the seafront, roaring and screaming.

Grandfather stood near the Cove staring out to sea, shading his eyes from the sunlight with his hands. ‘That boy’s in trouble,’ he said grimly. ‘He’s trying to put her down safely and not do any harm. He’s only got a few minutes at most.’

The plane had swung around once again and Sophie could actually see flames spurt from one side of it, and a face looking at her through the cockpit.

‘He’s heading for the harbour!’ shouted Sophie, her heart pounding.

‘Nancy, go and phone for an ambulance and get some help!’ ordered Grandfather. ‘Hugh, you stay with Nancy! Sophie, you come with me!’

Sophie ran along the seafront. Some of the houses were empty, as people used them only for summer holidays; others still had their shutters closed, blocking out light and sound. The hotel was busy evacuating the guests, clad in night attire, out on to the croquet lawn.

The bomber had just managed to clear the pier wall and was now trying to swing out over the dock and slipway from the harbour to the relative space of the North Beach. With every second it got lower and lower.

‘Tell them get a boat out!’ shouted Grandfather, limping behind Sophie.

Sophie ran as fast as her legs would carry her. The two old ladies who owned the chemist’s shop were leaning over the wall in their dressing-gowns, and a man who was half-shaved stood nearby.

Sophie looked down at the beach. The fishermen were gone – they usually left just before sun-up. The beach was totally empty.

The plane was making queer sputtering noises. Behind window panes, Sophie could see faces of people unwilling to be involved.

She scrambled down the slipway, jumping off it onto the rocks which led to the beach.

There was a boat there, turned upside down, but it was big and heavy. She’d never lift it! Anyway, they had no oars for it.

The Londoner lay where they’d left it yesterday. Mr Furlong had gone home by the time they’d come in, and had locked his hut, so they’d stored the oar-locks under the seat. She ran up to see if the two oars were resting against the side of the hut where they’d left them. They were.

Grandfather was shouting at the half-shaven man to come down and give them a hand.

At that moment a huge bang filled the air, the sound ricocheting from one side of the harbour to the other. The bomber dropped, nose first, into the sea.

‘Come on, man! Help us get this boat into the water!’ yelled Grandfather, being careful not to slip.

‘I will!’ said the man. ‘But you know, Professor, I can’t swim!’

The minute they got the boat onto the water, Sophie and Grandfather clambered in. The man waded in as far as he could, giving them an almighty shove to set them off. They both rowed as hard as they could.

The plane heaved up and down in the water. It had managed to straighten somewhat, and the waves tossed and tumbled over it.

‘Come on, girl! We’ve got to reach them quickly.’ Grandfather was all charged-up.

Sometimes one or other of them missed a stroke and an
oar skidded over the water. Grandfather swore under his breath.

They could see the plane more clearly now. Greasy, oily water floated around it and lapped against The Londoner.

‘If we get to them quickly, they might have some chance,’ Grandfather stated. Then he passed her his oar.

‘What are you doing?’ she gasped.

He had taken off his shoes, and started to roll up his trouser leg. ‘Taking off this darned thing!’

With a start, she realised what he was going to do. ‘No, Grandfather! Don’t!’ she begged. ‘It’s too dangerous. You could be washed against the plane.’ Already she could see sharp pieces of wreckage bobbing in the water.

‘Please!’ she remonstrated, trying to grab him and almost losing an oar in the process.

He was unstrapping his artificial limb. ‘Keep the boat steady!’ he shouted at her.

‘Oh, don’t go!’ she cried.

‘I’ve got to, Sophie. A fellow man needs help. They have parents and wives and children – we can’t just let them die like this.’

Without another word, he dived, leaving his jacket, shoes and artificial leg abandoned on the floor of the small boat.

The Londoner rocked wildly for a second, but Sophie managed to steady her.

Grandfather had disappeared under the water. Sophie could see what looked like part of the cockpit. She tried to row closer. There was a hand pummelling against the heavy glass. Grandfather reappeared near her. Sophie had not
realised what a strong, powerful swimmer he was.

‘There’s two or three of them!’ he told her, before swimming off to the far side of the plane. He leant on the bomber, trying to roll it over a bit. As it began to turn ever so slightly, more of the nose became visible. He was trying to help the pilot to open the cover. Suddenly it gave and a blueish-looking face gasped for air, and clutched wildly at his rescuer, before starting to free himself and ease himself into the water.

‘Danke! Vielen dank! ‘muttered the German pilot through chattering teeth.

‘The next one is bad!’ shouted Grandfather. ‘Try and bring the boat closer, Sophie!’

The sea water was suddenly stained a pinkish red. He was so young-looking. He reminded her of a prince from a fairy story, with his blond hair and eyelashes. The old man was pulling him forward.

‘Help me pull him out!’ he ordered the pilot. ‘We’ll try and lay him across the boat.’ Maybe the German didn’t speak any English.

‘Ja! Ja! ‘he agreed. He treaded water, keeping himself afloat as he helped drag his injured mate out of the plane. The injured man was moaning, saying words that Sophie couldn’t understand, and a huge gash ran from his shoulder to his wrist. They both swam with him to The Londoner. Sophie leant over to one side, praying that she wouldn’t capsize, as she tried to get him into the boat. He kept rolling off, back into the water. She grabbed frantically at his belt. Eventually there was more of him in the boat than out. The
bottom of the boat was filled with inches of water, and she wished that she had someone along to bale out for her.

Grandfather had swum back to the plane again.

This time he was saying a prayer.

The exhausted German, floating beside him, joined in:

The plane seemed to be tilting, filling with water. Both men swam away from it, and Sophie rowed backwards for a bit, trying to avoid being sucked under.

‘Nothing more we could have done! A broken neck, I’d say. Anyway, he’s gone!’ said Grandfather resignedly.

They watched as the German plane disappeared beneath the waves.