The Girl With No Name (12 page)

‘News?’ asked Dan, hoping to divert her thoughts from Mary. ‘What was you going to tell her?’

‘I was going to tell you first, of course,’ Naomi said, grasping his hand. Despite her tears and the sadness and the terror of that dreadful day, a new light of happiness glowed in her eyes.

‘Well?’ prompted Dan. ‘What news?’

‘You’re going to be a father.’

‘What?’ asked Dan feebly.

‘You’re going to be a father. I’m going to have a baby. Dr Marshall confirmed it today. I’m nearly four months gone.’

Dan stared at her in mute amazement for a moment before he eventually said, ‘Are you sure? I mean, why didn’t you tell me?’

‘Didn’t want to get your hopes up – or mine for that matter,’ beamed Naomi, ‘not till it was confirmed.’

‘When’s it due?’

‘January.’

‘January!’ he echoed. ‘I’m going to be a dad in January.’

Dan still couldn’t believe what she was telling him. They’d given up all thoughts of children of their own. ‘Aren’t you too old? I mean...’ he stammered as he saw the look on her face at this remark, ‘I mean, well, I thought...’

‘I’m only thirty-nine. It’s old for a first baby, but Dr Marshall says everything seems to be going fine. I’m fit and healthy and lots of women my age have babies. And Dr Marshall says it’s probably due to Lisa being here. We’ve been so busy worrying about her, we’ve stopped worrying about babies and relaxed. Think about it, Dan, our own baby!’

‘I am thinking about it,’ Dan said, ‘and I’m thrilled to bits, girlie, but it’ll take a bit of getting used to.’

‘I just wish Mary had known,’ said Naomi sadly.

‘P’raps she does,’ Dan said.

‘D’you really think so?’ Naomi’s face brightened.

‘I don’t know, do I? Maybe she does. More important, what’s Lisa going to say?’

‘I don’t know. I hope she’ll be pleased with the idea of a brother or sister. But we don’t have to tell her yet. It’s early days. Let’s just keep it to ourselves for now, shall we. Our secret.’

‘Whatever you want, girlie,’ said Dan. ‘Whatever you want.’

The death of Mary and the destruction of the Duke weighed heavily on Kemble Street. There was an air of sadness, but with an underlying anger that Hitler had finally burst in upon their corner of the world. The rubble was cleared away, the overhanging roof pulled down and the doors boarded up. The Duke of Wellington, the social centre of the area, would be closed from now on.

The air raid warnings continued, often with two or three a night. At first they all trooped down to the cellar, but with so many broken nights Dan finally agreed, to Lisa’s immense relief, that they not go down until they heard the planes overhead and the sound of gunfire.

Mary and Dan went to Mary’s funeral. Lisa stayed at home; they all knew that Tom would not want her there.

‘It’ll be a difficult day for him, pet,’ Naomi said. ‘It’s not your fault.’

It was this that decided her to go and meet Harry the next Saturday. She hadn’t been going to go, but now she needed to be with someone the same as she, someone else who was an outsider.

Saying she was going to Hilda’s, Lisa set off for the park. Harry was sitting on his usual bench, waiting for her.

‘Knew you’d come,’ he said by way of greeting.

‘Needed to get away,’ Lisa said and flopping down beside him told him about Mary.

‘Well, she ain’t the first and she won’t be the last,’ Harry said dismissively.

‘Harry! How can you say that?’ cried Lisa.

‘Cos it’s true. Something you got to get used to, Lisa.
You
know that. We had some bombs, yeah, but Hitler’s blitz ain’t started yet. Lots more people are going to die before he’s done.’

‘You sound as if you don’t care,’ Lisa said bitterly.

‘How can I care?’ demanded Harry. ‘It’s all too big for me to care about. I can only care about me.’

‘And me?’

‘Yeah, and you. Come on, Lisa, let’s go up west and forget it all for a bit. I got money and we’ll go to a caff and eat sausages and chips.’

This time when they took the bus Harry felt in the depths of his pocket and produced money for the fares, so they were able to travel all the way to Trafalgar Square without having to get off. They spent the morning exploring the small streets around Soho and Leicester Square and then, as he’d promised, Harry treated them to a sausage and chips. Lisa had never been to a café to eat before and she sat at the table in the window watching all the people coming and going in the street outside.

‘This is lovely,’ she said, ‘eating in a proper restaurant, like grown-ups.’ Then she looked anxiously at Harry. ‘You have got the money, haven’t you, Harry?’

‘Of course!’ Harry looked affronted. ‘Told you I had, didn’t I?’

By the middle of the afternoon Lisa knew she had to go home. She had been asked to Hilda’s for tea and she was determined to get there in time. She’d told Naomi she was going to Hilda’s, and she wanted to make it true.

‘I got to go, Harry,’ she said when they’d finished eating. ‘I got to go to Hilda’s like I told Aunt Naomi.’

‘OK.’ Harry shrugged. ‘I got to stay up here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I got to see someone,’ Harry said. ‘I’ll put you on the bus.’

‘Aren’t you coming with me?’

‘No, I told you, I got to see someone up here. Don’t worry,’ he said with exaggerated patience. ‘I’ll give you the bus money.’

He waited with her at the bus stop and waved as she looked back at him through the window, before disappearing into the crowds on the street.

The bus was quite full and Lisa was pleased to get a seat inside. She paid the fare and sat back to enjoy the journey. Her enjoyment was short-lived. Suddenly the air was rent by the blast of air raid sirens.

‘Bloody Wailing Winnie off again!’ groaned the man sitting next to her. The bus continued its way along the road for another few minutes and then it pulled up.

‘Everybody off,’ shouted the conductor. ‘We ain’t going no further till them Nazis has gone home.’

People began to clamber off the bus, heading for the public shelters. Many of them hurried down the stairs into the Underground. Lisa, standing for a moment on the pavement, didn’t know what to do. All around her people were hurrying to find shelter, the continuing sirens encouraging them to be quick, and even as she stood there she heard the thunderous roar of hundreds of planes in the sky above her.

‘Come on, love,’ cried a woman, catching her by the arm and pulling her towards the Tube station, ‘got to get under cover.’

But as they reached the entrance and Lisa saw the people thronging the stairs leading down, she knew she couldn’t go in there. With a sharp tug she pulled herself free and began to run. She didn’t know where she was running to, but nothing would have induced her to go into the Underground. Somehow it felt safer to be running than standing still staring up at the bombers overhead.

And then the bombs started to fall; the whistle through the air followed by the boom of the explosion. Even as she ran, fires began to blossom in nearby buildings. Firemen and volunteers rushed to each red and orange glow to douse it with sand or water to prevent it from taking hold.

Lisa continued to run, ducking into doorways, cowering against the buildings as the intensity of the raid increased. The noise of the planes, the crump of the bombs and the thunder of the anti-aircraft guns were deafening, an all-enveloping din which intensified the chaos around her. She was completely disorientated, veering from one side of the street to another looking for shelter. She had no idea of the way to the nearest shelter, nor the way back to the Underground station. There were other people in the streets, the air raid wardens, firemen and first aid volunteers, but they were all intent on dealing with and trying to contain the damage caused by the bombs. No one seemed to see the young girl whirled about by the turmoil and confusion. There was no respite as wave after wave of enemy aircraft filled the skies. Harried by the fighters of the RAF, dogfights developed among the clouds, but the bombers continued dropping their deadly load on a London already on fire.

Lisa was shaking with fear, her arms about her head as she curled in a ball in a shop doorway.

‘Christ, child!’ cried a voice. ‘What are you doing out here?’ Someone reached into the doorway and hauled her to her feet. ‘There’s a shelter this way. Come on!’ Holding her firmly he hustled her along the road towards the concrete shelter little more than a hundred yards away. Lisa allowed herself to be dragged along, her legs too weak with fear to support her properly.

Above them there was a swish and a whistle. The man grabbed her into his arms as if to shield her with his body and then there was an almighty explosion and a building only a couple of hundred yards behind them disintegrated, folding in on itself with a crash that reverberated along the narrow street, bringing with it a thick cloud of dust. The man and Lisa collapsed on to the pavement and neither of them moved again.

*

It was soon after four o’clock that Saturday afternoon. Dan had just got home when the air raid sirens began their lament. He grabbed Naomi and said, ‘Down into the cellar, girlie, there’s two of you to save now.’

‘Where’s Lisa?’ Naomi cried.

‘Don’t you fret about her,’ Dan said firmly. ‘She’s round Hilda’s and they’ve got an Anderson in their garden. Lisa will be OK.’

‘Come down with me,’ begged Naomi. ‘The baby needs a dad as well, you know.’

‘I know that, but I have to gotta out. I’m needed at the fire post. Can’t let the others down, can I?’ He led his wife down the steps into the cellar, made sure that she had a torch and lit the candles. By now they could hear the drone of the aircraft above and the anti-aircraft fire from the battery in the park.

‘It’s a big raid,’ quavered Naomi. ‘Don’t leave me, Dan.’

‘Must, girl. Big raid is all the more reason for me to get out there. It’ll be all hands to the pump for this one.’ He pulled Naomi into his arms and whispered, ‘Keep Junior safe for me, there’s a good girl, and don’t you come out again till you hear that all-clear, promise?’ She nodded and very gently he put her from him and with a blown kiss went back up the stairs, closing the cellar door behind him.

As soon as he got outside he realised just how immense the raid was. Looking up he could see planes in every direction, heavy bombers lumbering across the sky, and even as he watched, the bombs they carried began cascading downward. The siren continued to shriek, and everywhere people were dashing towards the nearest shelter. Dan hurried through the emptying streets to the fire post where he was a volunteer.

‘Christ almighty,’ the chief was shouting as he arrived, ‘they’ve sent the whole fucking Luftwaffe this time!’ Some of the planes passed on overhead, flying to targets further along the river. Others, their cargo discharged, were beating a hasty retreat, harried by the RAF fighter pilots. But the bombers had not come alone. Determined to make it to London and set the city ablaze, they had come with fighter escorts to protect them and the battle for the air was fierce and furious. Anti-aircraft batteries all over the city were pounding away at the enemy planes and the noise was ear-splitting and unceasing. Orders were shouted and the fire crews and valiant volunteers rushed from place to place as the news of fire and destruction came in from the wardens’ posts.

Dan worked in a team of three, with Arthur and another, younger man, George. Together they moved swiftly to deal with outbreaks of fire, caused by incendiary bombs which fizzed into action the moment they landed. Their task was to contain these with sand and a limited supply of water before they burst into red-hot flame, consuming everything they touched. The raid seemed to go on for ever. Dan was soon exhausted, but there was no respite. As soon as one fire was extinguished they were dealing with another, shovelling sand and working the stirrup pump. The sky across the city was glowing red, thick smoke billowed above them and still the bombers came. It wasn’t till nearly two hours after the sirens had warned of the raid that they sounded the all-clear. London was still ablaze and when Dan and his team were sent up on the warehouse roof to spot still-burning fires they had the first sight of the devastation which the Luftwaffe had wrought. All across the city fires were burning out of control. Many buildings had been blasted to the ground, others stood in partial defiance, roofs and walls blown away, interiors exposed. People emerging from shelters were faced with an unbelievable scene of destruction.

Even when the all-clear had been sounded there was no rest for the firefighters. Dan was desperate to know that Naomi was all right, but he couldn’t leave his team to go and find out. They all worked as before, trying to contain the fires, heaving sand buckets and pushing water carts to wherever they were needed. After a couple of hours the chief called a halt and sent them to get something to eat.

‘Just fifteen minutes,’ warned the chief. ‘We all need a break and we’ll go in turn. Your lot first, Arthur, and as soon as you’re back, Tony and his lot’ll go.’

‘No time to go home,’ Arthur said. ‘Let’s see if the Dog and Duck’s open.’

They hurried down the rubble-strewn street and found to their astonishment that the pub was, indeed, open. There was no hot food, but the barmaid was furiously making sandwiches. Arthur’s lot weren’t the only crews coming in to refuel.

They flopped down at a table and wolfed down a stack of cheese sandwiches, washed down with pints of beer.

‘Come on,’ Dan said after ten minutes. ‘If I don’t get up again now, I shan’t get up again at all!’

They all dragged themselves to their feet and just as they walked out into the street, the air raid sirens went off again.

‘Bloody hell!’ exclaimed George. ‘Don’t them bleedin’ things ever give over?’

‘May be a false alarm,’ Arthur suggested hopefully.

But it wasn’t and they soon knew it wasn’t as the sound of gunfire could be heard in the distance. Moments later the drone of the invaders was in the air. Having left themselves a beacon that couldn’t be quenched, the Germans were back. Squadrons of bombers thundered towards London and apart from the RAF fighters which defied them in the air, there was nothing that Londoners could do but wait for the bombardment to begin again. It wasn’t until four-thirty the next morning that the all-clear sounded. The long-awaited ‘blitzkrieg’ had begun.