Moonlight and Ashes (35 page)

‘Don’t get goin’ near the centre,’ a man who was standing nearby warned. ‘The whole place is like an inferno an’ the trams are destroyed. If you’ve far to go you’d be best to wait here for help.’

Maggie shook her head. ‘Thanks, but I have to go. Me mam an’ me little girl will be worried sick about us.’ So saying she set off at such a pace that Jo had to almost run to keep up with her. As they turned from one street into another, Maggie tried to close her eyes to the horrific sights. Bodies were being carried from the ruins of homes and laid on the pavement. The clamour of ambulance bells, fire engines and children crying were ringing in her ears, but she dared not stop to offer help. She
had
to get home to her mam and Lucy - to some sort of normality.

The journey took almost twice as long as it should have, for the pavements were strewn with bricks and rubble. More than once she stumbled, and soon her hands and knees were cut and bruised, but Maggie didn’t feel a thing. The overpowering need to see her family safe and sound seemed to somehow block out all other sensations.

Jo stumbled along behind her as a feeling of foreboding settled around her heart. The nearer they got to their destination, the more the feeling grew, for there seemed to be no let-up in the devastation anywhere along the way. Whole streets had fallen prey to the air raid. Only a day before they had been neat rows of terraced houses, now they resembled nothing more than a demolition site.

At last they turned the corner into Clay Lane and only then did Maggie stop as her hand flew to her mouth. The houses on the side of the street where her mother lived were still standing, though the glass had been blown from the windows. But on her side of the street there was nothing but smouldering piles of bricks and rubbish.

‘Nooooooooo!’
The sound that issued from her mouth was so heart-wrenching that Jo would hear it in her worst nightmares for the rest of her life. She reached out to try and touch Maggie, but her friend was running like the wind in the direction of where her house had stood.

Troops were frantically digging through the rubble as she approached, and one of them stepped forward and tried to prevent her from going any further. She fought him off like a wildcat, her eyes standing out from her strained face.

‘This is
my
house,’ she gasped as she struggled in his arms. ‘My baby an’ me mam . . . they’re in the shelter out the back. I’ve got to get to them.’

The soldier hastily barked an order at a young lad, who immediately began to scramble across the bricks towards the place where the yard would have been. Maggie could just make out the roof of the shelter and she began to pray as she had never prayed before as she watched him slipping and sliding across the bricks. Eventually he disappeared behind the pile of rubble that was all that was left of her home and time stood still as she waited for him to reappear.

After what seemed an eternity she saw him clambering towards them again and she held her breath. As he slid down the slope in front of them he called out: ‘The shelter’s still intact - but there’s no one in there.’

‘Oh, my dear God.’ Maggie’s eyes began to sweep back and forwards across the rubble. ‘I told her to use the shelter. I
told
her!’

Jo, traumatised by the scene, and by all the raw memories of her own tragedy, had begun to cry as she realised what had happened. Ellen had refused to use the shelter since the night Maggie’s father had died, and it appeared that last night had been no exception. Which meant . . . Ellen and Lucy were somewhere beneath that wicked-looking pile of bricks.

Like someone possessed, Maggie sprang forward and began to dig amongst the rubble with her bare hands. Seeing that there would be no stopping her, the soldier joined his efforts to hers as Jo looked on in horrified fascination.

Twenty minutes later, Mrs Massey appeared from one of the houses that was still standing across the street and hurried over to them.

‘Maggie, for the love of God come away,’ she implored the young woman, as tears ran down her cheeks. ‘Come on over to Gwen’s with me. There’s no gas or electric but she’s set the kettle on the fire so you can get somethin’ warm inside yer.’

Oblivious to everything but the need to find her family, Maggie worked on as Mrs Massey eyed her with consternation. Stepping closer, she tried again. ‘
Please
, love. There’s nothing you can do here. Leave it to the troops. They’ll come and tell you if they find anything.’ She placed her hand on Maggie’s arm and tried to draw her away but Maggie rounded on her so furiously that it was all Mrs Massey could do to stay on her feet.

Jo steadied the woman as she stared at Maggie in shock.

‘She doesn’t mean it,’ Jo defended her.

‘I know that, love, an’ me heart is breakin’ for her,’ Mrs Massey replied as she took a step back. ‘May God help her through the trials that lie ahead.’ Seeing that Jo looked dead on her feet, she gently placed an arm around her waist.

‘Come on pet. You look like
you
could do with a good strong cuppa.’

Jo looked towards Maggie and opened her mouth to refuse, but Mrs Massey was having none of it. ‘There’s nothin’ you can do to help her by stayin’ here. This is somethin’ she has to go through alone, more’s the pity.’

With dragging steps, Jo followed the kindly woman across the street.

Within no time at all, the unrelenting drizzle had soaked Maggie to the skin and her hands were raw and bleeding, but still she worked on side-by-side with the troops.

Later in the morning, Ministry of Information vans began to slowly tour the city telling the people who had become homeless where to obtain food and shelter. Canteens sprang up, and slowly the dispirited souls who had nothing but the clothes they stood up in could be seen trooping towards them.

Maggie ignored the loudspeakers as she worked diligently on. She would find them; she had to. Perhaps her mam had had the sense to shelter under a table or something? In her mind’s eye she could see Lucy leaping towards her unhurt when they finally freed her from her prison; could feel her little arms about her neck, and smell that sweet baby scent that was hers and hers alone. Maggie would scold her mother for not using the shelter then embrace her and promise to never, ever leave her alone again.

The picture in her mind drove her relentlessly on, even when the troops stopped occasionally for a well-earned cup of tea supplied by one of the neighbours who was still fortunate enough to have a home.

Just before lunchtime, she found the photograph of the twins that had stood in pride of place on the mantelpiece. The frame and the glass were broken but their smiling faces spurred her on as she tucked the photo into the pocket of her ruined coat. Just a few more feet to go and they would reach the solid oak table that had stood in the centre of the room.

The force of the blast that had rocked the house had sent the bedroom furniture crashing into the kitchen below. The men had thrown what remained of it into the street and now they were unearthing kitchenware. It was at this point that Mr Massey appeared. He was still wearing his tin hat and looked drained and tired, but nevertheless he set to with a will and added his efforts to theirs.

Maggie flashed him a brief grateful smile before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

Suddenly a shout went up and a silence settled as the men all looked towards it. Mrs Massey and Jo had just appeared with yet more trays of tea in their hands and they hurried across the road just in time to see one of the troops stand with a little doll in his hand.

Time seemed to stand still as Maggie felt the world sway. On hands and knees, she crawled across the debris towards him but once she was close he looked away from her with tears streaming down his soot-blackened cheeks.

With a feeling of dread she looked down and there they were. Lucy wrapped tight in her grandma’s arms on what had once been the floor of her kitchen.

Lucy had learned to crawl on that floor. She had taken her first steps across it. She had played with her dollies on it for countless hours - but she would never play on it again, for at a glance Maggie knew that both Lucy and her mother were dead.

She could feel a scream building in her throat, but somehow it seemed to lodge there though it echoed in her head, far louder than any of the bombs she had heard during the night before.

Somehow she managed to gently disentangle her child from her mother’s arms and as the men looked soundlessly on she sank onto the debris and began to tenderly rock her to and fro as she crooned her favourite lullaby.

A hush fell on the people assembled there, and then they all bent their heads and openly wept as the sweet strains of the lullaby floated on the air.

Eric rapped sharply on the door and was rewarded seconds later when it inched open and Mrs Evans’s face appeared.

‘Why, Mr Sinclair. Come away in.’ It was impossible to keep the surprise from her voice as she stood aside for him to pass her.

Once in the immaculate little kitchen he removed his cap, acutely aware of her eyes on the scars on his face. Irritation laced his voice as he explained, ‘I thought I ought to come and see you. Have you had the wireless on this morning?’

She shook her head. ‘Indeed, I haven’t had a moment to listen to it. Should I have?’ As she spoke she ushered him towards the table and uncomfortably he sank down onto one of the chairs.

‘It seems that Coventry, where the twins come from, was heavily blitzed last night. According to the papers, the raid caused utter devastation. There are hundreds dead and injured, by all accounts, and the city centre is in ruins, including the Cathedral. Three-quarters of the city’s factories were destroyed and thousands have been made homeless.’

When she stared at him uncomprehendingly, he went on, ‘It seems that Swanshill, which is where the twins lived, was badly bombed too.’

‘It’s right sorry I am to hear it,’ Blodwyn told him. ‘But what can
we
do about it?’

He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. ‘I was hoping you would tell me. You see, until I had Danny come to live with me, I hadn’t had an awful lot of contact with children. Do you think we should tell them, or perhaps try to find out if their mother and sister are all right?’

‘Oh, no,’ Blodwyn declared, just a little too quickly for his liking. ‘Lizziebright is well settled and I don’t want her upset. Think about it - what could they do, apart from worry, even if we did tell them? No - I think the least said the better on this matter.’

Eric frowned uncertainly. ‘But what if they hear it from someone else? Won’t that be worse than if they’d heard it from us? The newspapers are full of it, and children do talk, you know. King George is visiting the city tomorrow to offer condolences, then everyone will be talking about it.’

Pursing her lips, Mrs Evans rose from the seat she had taken opposite him. ‘As I said, Mr Sinclair, I think we would be wise to leave well alone. Now, if you’ll excuse me, the doctor will be here to see my husband at any minute.’

Eric rose and edged towards the door, wishing that he had never bothered to come. She followed him and opened the door without a word. Once he had stepped outside she gave him a curt nod.

‘Good day, Mr Sinclair.’

The door closed in his face as Eric stood there. He glanced up and down the cobbled street, then, with his head bent against the bitingly cold wind, he hurried away.

 

For Lizzie and Danny, the day passed uneventfully. After school, Danny said his goodbyes to Lizzie outside
Ty-Du
and went on his way with Soho Gus and Sparky as Lizzie gazed at the cottage windows. The doctor’s bicycle was propped against the wall, but as this was becoming a regular occurrence she wasn’t overly concerned until she stepped inside. Almost at once she sensed that something was wrong. The fire had burned low in the grate and there was no welcoming smell of dinner cooking for the first time since she had come to stay there.

After slinging her gas mask and satchel onto the nearest chair, she went to the stairs door and peered up to the dim landing above. She could faintly hear the sound of Mrs Evans and the doctor talking, and she hovered there uncertainly, wondering if she should call up to them. It was then that she heard the doctor say, ‘I’m afraid it’s not looking good, Blodwyn. I could have him transferred to the hospital if you’d rather he be there?’

‘You’ll do no such thing,’ was Blodwyn’s reply. ‘This is his home and this is where he will stay. Until they take him out of here in a box, that is.’

Lizzie knew then that Mr Evans must be very ill indeed, and a frown settled across her small face. He had always been the one to stick up for her when Mrs Evans was fussing over her, and she wondered what it would be like to have to live here alone, if anything should happen to him.

She didn’t have long to ponder, for at that moment she heard the doctor snap his bag shut and he and Mrs Evans appeared at the top of the stairs.

‘Aw, Lizziebright!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘I didn’t know you were home so soon - and me with no dinner on the table for you. What am I thinking of, eh?’

The doctor gave her a curious look but saying nothing he quickly descended the stairs.

‘I shall call back in a couple of hours after I’ve done my surgery,’ he informed her from the doorway. ‘Until then, just try to keep him as comfortable as you can.’ He smiled kindly at Lizzie and then he was gone. Mrs Evans bore down on Lizzie to wrap her in a warm embrace. The girl felt like telling her that she had only seen her at lunchtime, not a year ago, but seeing that the woman was upset she held her tongue.