Safe Harbour (5 page)

Hugh was watching Sophie. He was fretting about something, she could tell by the way he was shifting in the seat and fidgeting with his fingers.

‘Sophie!’

‘Hmm!’

‘Sophie, are we cowards?’ he whispered. She blinked. What in heaven’s name was he talking about? ‘Tom said we’re running away to a country that won’t help in the war.’

‘Don’t mind him!’ she replied. But she could tell that this was not enough to satisfy him. ‘Listen, Hugh! Maggie, Tom and Lily, and thousands just like them, just like us, are being evacuated for safety’s sake. Mr Churchill and the Government have enough to worry about trying to stop Britain being invaded and all those German bombers that fly in night after night over London and all the other cities. They don’t want to have to worry about us kids running around the place, getting hurt or lost or scared, so they reckon we’re better off in the countryside, and it’s easier to get food there.’ Sophie stopped and thought. ‘And in our case, it’s just that we are being evacuated that bit further than the rest of them. We have a relation in Ireland, so it makes sense that we have to stay with him.’

‘I s’pose so!’ Hugh said quietly.

‘Some children are going to America and Canada and
Australia, Hugh! That’s really far, oceans away. At least Ireland’s only across the sea from England. It’s not that far.’

‘I s’pose so, but it still feels like we’re running away, cowardy custards, like Tom said,’ he kept on.

‘Then in that case, we are just like all the others!’ Sophie added adamantly.

She looked out the window. Two small brown rabbits were hopping and running and zig-zagging through the field outside, the noise of the train giving them a right old fright. Hugh caught sight of them too for a second before they disappeared into the safety of a hedgerow.

The rabbits were right to run from the train – it was too big, too noisy, too scary, something a rabbit could not possibly understand. Just like this war. Sophie knew that deep inside her she did not feel a coward. If anything, she was trying to be brave, the bravest she had ever, ever been.

Sophie began to sing softly,

Hugh joined in the familiar song. She squeezed his hand. They were both being brave. Hugh’s grey-blue eyes welled up with tears, but he seemed to understand. They both sang out, as the train rumbled on to Holyhead,

By the end of the five-hour journey they were both exhausted, and were pleased to stumble off the train and up to the Station Hotel, where Judy Murray organised tea and sandwiches. The hotel was packed with travellers, but Sophie was glad of the chance to use the bathroom, and to wash her grimy hands and face. Hugh wolfed down the dainty triangular-cut sandwiches.

‘I’m starving!’ he said, working his way through the whole plateful, and ignoring Sophie’s warning kicks to his shins.

‘Always nice to see a good appetite,’ beamed their minder. ‘It’s the children who don’t eat that I worry about.’

Sophie blushed. She was hungry, but at that moment the food tasted like sawdust in her mouth, and her stomach clenched up every now and then.

At last, Miss Murray escorted them down to the jetty where the huge mail-boat was waiting. It was the biggest ship Sophie had ever seen, much larger than any of the boats you’d see going up and down the Thames. It had two giant golden-coloured funnels that stuck up into the sky, and crowds of people were moving around the decks and leaning over the ship’s side.

Sophie had never expected so many people to be going to Ireland at the same time, and they had to wait in line until it came to their turn to board, and cross over the wide
gangplank, on to the slightly swaying deck.

Judy handed them over to the steward. He shook hands with both of them.

‘Bill Cox,’ he said. ‘Now, I’m in charge of you while you’re on this ship, so no chasing about or running around, no going places that are off-limits.’ He took down their names on a page in a small notebook he kept in his uniform shirt pocket.

‘What’s down that way?’ quizzed Hugh.

‘Those are the cabins – you’re not to go down there. Now, say goodbye to Miss Murray, and we’d best get a move on, as it looks like we’ve a full load on board today.’

Judy Murray shook hands with them solemnly and wished them luck, before disappearing into the crowd. Sophie suddenly realised just how much on their own they were now.

‘All passengers aboard! All passengers aboard!’ An announcement came through the loudspeaker and sent a shiver of excitement through the multitude of people pushing to look out over the rails as the massive engines began to judder and surge into life and a wash of churning water developed between them and land.

‘Follow me!’ ordered Mr Cox, briskly leading them to a busy lounge filled with wooden seats and benches.

They plonked down, shoving their cases underneath, and using the stuffed pillowcase like a bolster to lean against.

‘I’ve a few jobs to attend to, so you’re to sit right there! I’ll be back as soon as I can,’ their escort said.

All the seats began to fill up. Sophie watched their fellow
travellers out of the corner of her eye. The rest of them were all excited and happy about going to Ireland.

‘It’s good to be going home!’ someone said.

‘First time back to the old country in two years!’ answered another.

‘My mother said I was to come back and not risk getting blown to bits by the Germans!’ answered a happy-looking young woman.

Some had such strong accents that Sophie could hardly make out a word they were saying. They all seemed to be laden down with cases and brown paper packages tied up in strange, curious shapes.

The ship was turning, swinging outwards. Everyone suddenly made a lunge towards the lounge door, shoving towards the open deck. The two children followed them. They were all waving themselves silly. It was so stupid, but Sophie and Hugh copied them as the mail-boat sailed away from Holyhead and the Anglesea coast.

‘Hugh! We’d better get back inside in case Mr Cox is looking for us!’ said Sophie after a few minutes.

‘No! Please, Sophie, can’t we stay out here?’

Sophie looked at her young brother. He was strangely pale and clammy. He was inhaling deep gulps of air and swallowing them down in an effort to make himself feel better.

Sophie felt fine and leant against the rail watching the people promenade past. The air around her was salty and damp, and her face felt moist with the sea-spray.

The ship was slowly and sluggishly turning away from the
Welsh coast, pushing out into the choppy Irish sea.

There were other children on board, but most of them were with adults. Two or three boys paraded past Sophie in school uniforms, heads together, talking in upper-class twit accents.

‘I say, old fellah!’ Sophie shouted into the wind.

The three of them turned around, puzzled for an instant, but seeing only herself and Hugh, who was by now feeling very sorry for himself, shrugged their shoulders, and moved on.

‘Soph! Soph! I feel sick!’ Almost as he said it, Hugh threw up. Most of it went over the ship’s side but a bit clung ominously to the rail and deck. Sophie fumbled up her sleeve and in her knicker leg – she definitely had a handkerchief somewhere.

‘It’s all right, Hugh! Here you are!’ She held it out to him.

He took it and tried to wipe himself. But the hanky was not much good, as he got violently seasick again, and again. In the end he slumped down on one of the wooden deckchairs. ‘I feel awful!’ he sniffed, ‘why did we have to go on this stinky old ship?’

‘I know, Hugh! I know!’ was all she could say.

At this stage the swell and the rocking motion of the waves were beginning to affect more of the passengers, and green- and grey-faced adults clung to the rails of the boat, sucking in the fresh air as if their very lives depended on it. Others just chatted away and enjoyed themselves. Sophie hoped that she had a strong stomach, as it would be disastrous if they were both sick.

Hugh looked exhausted but he had stopped retching. His stomach must surely be empty by now, Sophie thought.

‘Come on, Hugh! Let’s get you to the toilet.’

They walked through the lounge where the smell of sick clung in the air. It was crowded in the Ladies, with a long queue for the toilets. The basins were filthy, and there was so much water on the floor that it seeped through the sole of Sophie’s shoe.

She made Hugh pull off his stained jumper and she rinsed out the grotty, disgusting hanky. She dabbed at the yellowish stains on his shirt and on the knees of his trousers. Hugh was too ill to protest.

‘Throw water on your face!’ she said bossily. ‘Take a mouthful of water, and rinse out your mouth!’

She pulled down the grubby length of the roller towel, searching for a dry, clean bit, but it was no use. Finally they abandoned the hubbub of ladies and escaped outside.

Mr Cox was standing in the lounge, his squirrel-like brown eyes searching for them. Taking in Hugh’s state in an instant, the steward pulled a spare label from his pocket, wrote Hugh’s name again and pinned it anew to the small boy’s shirt.

‘Spring tides, that’s what does it,’ he told them. ‘It’s been like this all week, every crossing.’

Sophie nodded.

‘I think you and your brother would be best out on deck. You go and get a place and I’ll be back to you both in a few ticks.’

Two old men were sitting, chatting, and did not want to
make space for two children, but Sophie ignored their frosty glances and shoved in near them. Poor Hugh felt too awful to care about anything.

Mr Cox came back with a loose, throw-over rug, which he tucked around Hugh. He also had a glass of fizzy water, and he handed it to the sick little boy. ‘It’s soda water – best thing to settle the stomach, young man!’

He held out a shiny metal bowl to Sophie in case of emergencies, and tossed her a tiny packet of dry biscuits. ‘Just nibble those, they’re meant to be good for nausea,’ he said kindly.

‘Thank you, Mr Cox,’ said Sophie, but he had already headed off towards another passenger.

Hugh closed his eyes. Sophie knew that he was pretending to be someplace else – it was a game they played when they were scared or sick or bored. From the way he was pointing his fingers, she knew he was a cowboy, this time. Maybe riding a horse, and galloping across the prairies. She shut her own eyes, but nothing happened. Sometimes, she would be a beautiful princess in a castle, or a Hollywood movie star. But right now she couldn’t imagine anything nice. Maybe she was getting too old for the game.

She was too conscious of the sea, and the ship and all the things that were taking her away from England, from Mum, and from her friends and neighbours and even her old school. The war – that was the cause of it all, and that Adolf Hitler wanting to run the whole of Europe! They’d all said it wouldn’t last long. But the Germans were spreading bit by
bit into every country. What was to stop them invading Britain? Mr Churchill said that they would fight them everywhere – on the beaches, in the skies. She liked Mr Churchill. She trusted him.

Every night her mother would listen to the BBC, shushing herself and Hugh. She should have paid more attention to what was going on, realised how important it all was. Now she would have to try and make sense of it. This horrible, horrible war.

Hugh dozed, and Sophie tiptoed to the rail, staring into the churning waves below. The ship had to zig-zag, and change course, in case of any mines or u-boats in the shipping lane. It gave her goosebumps to think of a lumpy bit of metal bobbing under the water, just waiting …

Hugh moaned, and tossed and sat up, grabbing at the metal bowl. Oh no! Not again!

The rest of the journey seemed to take an age. Hugh kept asking, ‘Are we near land yet?’ his voice anxious. ‘Do you think there are any mines?’

Sophie did her best to banish thoughts of danger from his mind. ‘Almost there! I wonder what it will be like? Aunt Jessie said Grandfather lives by the sea …’ She kept on trying to calm him, to get him to think of something other than this boat and the sea, rising and falling, and then, without her noticing, the blue-green smudge in the distance began to take shape. The blur got bigger and bigger – soon it was like a hill, then a mountain, then cliffs that stuck out into the blue of the sea. Ireland. Her very first glimpse. Sophie could hardly wait to land. ‘Look, Hugh,’ she said. ‘There it is.’ But
there was no response. She looked down. Hugh definitely needed another trip to the Ladies. She bundled him through the crowds sprawled all over the passenger lounge. Babies lay spread-eagled, asleep on top of their mothers, and people were trying to tidy themselves up before they arrived at the harbour of Dun Laoghaire.

From afar it looked a nice town, church spires and pastel-painted houses. In the distance she could see the long stretch of coastline, and wondered where was Greystones, the place her grandfather lived.

‘Come on, Hugh!’ she ordered, impatient now.

He still looked peaky and sick. She wanted him to look healthy and well – and clean – when they met their grandfather. She did not want Grandfather to think they were the type of children that would be troublesome.

Inside, her own stomach was churning, not with seasickness, but with nerves. What if Grandfather didn’t like them, or they didn’t like him?

‘Sophie!’ Mr Cox’s voice interrupted. ‘You and your brother are to wait till the end to disembark. I want to make sure there’s someone here to meet you.’

Sophie simply nodded, too scared to speak. She stifled a yawn and suddenly realised just how tired she was after the long journey.

The two arms of the long grey stone piers opened out into the sea as if welcoming them, and the mail-boat sailed into the very middle of the wide embrace. A necklace of pink and white and pale blue and yellow terraced houses lined the charming seafront, with the town rising up behind
them.

Soon all movement ceased and the big bulk of their boat came to rest against a pier. As soon as the large gangplank went over, people began to swarm across.

They had finally arrived. They were in Ireland, their new home.