Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (11 page)

It was as if he sensed her thoughts, for he drew to a halt, pulled her closer and tipped up her chin so he could look into her eyes. ‘It won’t be long before I’m back again,’ he said softly, ‘so don’t spoil this moment by thinking the worst.’ He lightly kissed her brow. ‘I’ve survived this long, and you know what they say about only the good dying young.’ He shot her a wolfish grin ‘Well, I’m a bad bad boy, and the Devil takes care of his own.’

Doreen wished she possessed the same faith, for she knew only too well how many brave men had been lost in the Atlantic over the past four years. She clung to him and breathed in his scent, safe for the moment in his strong arms, the sound of his steady heartbeat drumming in her ear.

They stood lost in each other as people scurried past them in the blackout. Life for Doreen was far more secure than for Archie, and she wished with all her heart that she could somehow cast a spell around him and keep him safe. Yet in reality he would remain in peril, while she would return to the house in Halstead that she shared with her colleagues, and continue her work in the knowledge that the government had seen to it that Fort Halstead’s scientists and office staff were furnished with deep underground shelters and early warning systems.

‘We can’t change anything at the moment, Dor,’ he murmured. ‘But we can begin to make plans for when this war’s over.’

She looked up at him, half afraid that if they made plans it would tempt fate.

He smiled. ‘I know what you’re thinking, girl, but if we don’t make plans, then what’s this war all about? It’s important not to be bogged down in the present, but to look forward. You do understand that, don’t you?’

She nodded and sniffed back the ready tears, determined not to spoil the moment. ‘So what plans are you dreaming up, Archie?’

‘You and me, girl, that’s what,’ he said gruffly. ‘You and me and your girls in a little house by the sea; surrounded by our nippers.’

‘Oh, Archie, that sounds wonderful,’ she sighed. ‘But what about your career? Won’t you be staying in the Navy?’

He shook his head and grimaced. ‘By the time this lot is over I’ll have had enough of shipboard life,’ he said. ‘My plan is to start up my own business. England’s going to need engineers to get her back on her feet again.’

‘Then that’s what we’ll do,’ she said softly.

He looked deeply into her eyes. ‘I love you, Dor, and although I realise this is hardly the most romantic place to ask such a thing but … Will you marry me?’

Her heart seemed to swell as she reached up to cup his face in her hands. ‘Of course I will, dear, dear Archie.’

He pulled her to him and kissed her passionately until she was quite breathless, then set her back on her feet and grinned down at her. ‘You’ve made me the happiest man alive,’ he said. ‘And when I come home next we’ll get a special licence. I’m not going to let you slip away from me ever again.’

Doreen gazed up into his eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of feeling she had for him.

Archie kissed her on the nose and then flung his arms wide and danced in a circle. ‘I’m getting married!’ he boomed out into the still night. ‘My darling Doreen said yes!’

Doreen blushed furiously and tried to silence him as passers-by shouted their congratulations. ‘Archie, stop it,’ she pleaded, not knowing whether to laugh or cry with happiness.

He finally stopped prancing about and drew her snugly into his arms. ‘I want the world to know what a lucky man I am,’ he said.

‘I think they got the message,’ she replied through her laughter.

‘Are you sure?’

She giggled. ‘Absolutely certain. They could probably hear you in Cliffehaven, if not Carlisle.’

‘That’s all right then. And when I come back, we’ll go down to Cliffehaven so your family can give me the once-over.’ He kept his hand round her waist and they wandered down the street towards the park gates, content with each other and the promise of a golden future.

The low moan of the siren slowly rose to an ear-splitting shriek as the searchlights fizzed into life and began to quarter the skies.

Archie grabbed her hand and started walking quickly away from the park.

She had to run to keep up with him. ‘Where are we going?’

‘To the new tube station,’ he shouted back above the racket of the sirens.

‘Can’t we just go back to the café and sit it out?’ she begged.

‘Don’t be daft, Doreen. The tube’s well underground. You’ll be much safer there.’

She knew he was being sensible, but she had a morbid fear of dark, enclosed places, and even with Archie by her side, she knew she would have a terrible job keeping panic at bay. It was the same every time she had to go into the enormous shelters at the Fort – and they were light and airy compared to the fusty, gloomy tube stations.

Trying to be brave, she hurried along beside him. By now they were caught up in a stream of people coming out of the cinema and pubs and teeming from their homes, laden with night bundles and children. When Doreen saw where they were heading, her temporary courage deserted her and she pulled her hand from his grip and froze. The frontage of the tube station was covered in sheets of black-painted corrugated iron, and the entrance was so narrow that only one or two people could pass through it at the same time. It looked horribly dark down there, and the crush of people waiting to descend was growing by the minute. Cold sweat broke out on her spine. ‘I can’t, Archie. Really I can’t.’

‘I’ll look after you,’ he said, kissing her hair. ‘Just hold my hand and stick close.’

Doreen knew she was being feeble and did her best not to show it, but the thought of going down into that black hole with so many people made her feel quite faint with terror. She closed her eyes, leaning against him in an effort to glean courage from his strength and solidity, but her heart was racing, the perspiration now running down her back.

Hand in hand they joined the orderly queue just as three buses screeched to a halt nearby and disgorged dozens of passengers who added to the line. The sirens were still shrieking, the searchlights still weaving across the scudding clouds and black sky, but there was no sign of the enemy. And yet everyone knew that now Jerry had lighter, swifter bombers there was less time to find shelter, and after the heavy bombing raids by the RAF two days ago on Berlin, it was odds-on that the Germans would retaliate.

They shuffled forward at a steady pace as those in front disappeared through the narrow entrance. Women were carrying babies and shopping bags, men and boys struggled with rolls of bedding, and the elderly were helped to move more quickly by willing hands. There seemed to be little fear. Although Doreen had never witnessed it before, she’d heard about the stoic spirit of the East Enders, who’d borne the brunt of the Blitz and the terrible firestorm that had followed – and who, unlike her, now preferred to spend every night deep underground in the tube stations surrounded by other people.

Archie had to bend to get through the low opening and Doreen took a deep breath for courage as she followed him. A single light bulb, almost covered in black paint to meet the blackout regulations, barely alleviated the darkness, and panic was a living thing uncurling inside Doreen as she gripped Archie’s hand and tried to find her way. Step by agonising step she shuffled down the unmarked stairs, using the wall to steady herself but unable to see anything beyond the moving shadows of the people in front of her.

‘It’s all right, love. I won’t let you go. Just take it easy, there’s no rush.’

She knew he was doing his best to keep her calm, but as she felt the press of people behind her and breathed in the stale, humid air of tightly packed humanity, she wondered how fast her heart could beat before it failed altogether.

She shuffled her foot forward to find the edge of the rain-soaked step, wishing there was a railing to cling to as well as Archie’s hand. The narrow stairs meant she was pressed against the damp, unforgiving wall, and her overnight bag was heavy in her arm as she clutched it to her chest.

The explosion rocked the ground beneath her feet and trembled in the walls. The terrifying whoosh that followed it made her flinch and gasp in panic.

‘It’s a new kind of bomb,’ someone cried out.

‘Jerry’s attacking. Quick, quick. The raid’s started.’

The terror was infectious and the stumbling, steady pace was quickened as the cries of alarm echoed through the dark tunnel. And as those from above tried to push their way in, there was no choice but to be carried along in the great tide that was now moving quite swiftly into the bowels of the earth.

Doreen’s fear was all-consuming as she was forced deeper and deeper into the unknown darkness, and it was becoming almost impossible to resist the desperate urge to turn and fight her way back to the open air. ‘I have to get out,’ she cried. ‘Archie, help me get out.’

‘Hold tight, darling, and just keep going,’ he called above the surrounding noise. ‘We’re almost halfway there now.’

Only halfway? It felt as if they’d been going down these steps for hours. Was there to be no reprieve? Doreen could feel the darkness closing in on her as the press of bodies forced her downward. She stared blindly into the impenetrable blackness, realising that if she fainted now she’d fall and be trampled. It took every ounce of courage to keep going, Archie’s strong hand the only thing keeping her from becoming mad with fear.

Her foot was on the very edge of the step when she felt the soft but determined press of bodies behind her, and as she was still trying to keep her balance, she was forced closer to the woman in front. As she knocked against her she heard someone below cry out and suddenly the gap widened in front of her.

She didn’t have time to realise what was happening, or to take a breath, for the pressure behind had grown, ripping her hand from Archie’s and sending her stumbling into the void. As she collided with someone ahead of her she felt a thud on her back which almost knocked the air from her lungs, and realised in horror that the line of people on the stairs were tumbling like dominoes and there was no way to stop it.

‘Archie!’ she screamed before her cry was cut short by the weight of those falling on her. She couldn’t breathe, was crushed and buried, her chest pinned to the wall. She had to get out – to find a way to reach air.

Terror and the desperate need to survive made her feral, and she began to push and claw and fight to free herself. Her lungs were burning now, her head was pounding, and there was so little room to manoeuvre, but she had to live – not only for Archie, but for her children.

At the thought of her two precious little girls she gave one last tremendous shove and finally, finally had her head above the crush. But there was no relief, for her neck was unbearably stretched and she was so tightly pressed between those around her and the wall that she could only snatch a tiny amount of air into her aching lungs.

Her heart was pounding as she struggled to keep her head above the press and breathe, and the darkness seemed to creep into her head as a terrible inertia came over her. It would be so easy to close her eyes and give up. To fall asleep …

Her eyes snapped open. Her children needed her. Archie needed her. To give up was to die, and she wasn’t ready to die, not yet – and certainly not like this.

As she fought to breathe and keep her head above the crush, she could hear the feeble cry of a baby mingling with soft groans and desperate pleas for help. She could do nothing to help herself, let alone anyone else, for her arms were pinned to her sides and she didn’t have enough breath to call out. But she could feel someone breathing close to her and could only pray that it was Archie, and that rescue would come before it was too late for any of them.

It was a living nightmare from which she feared she would never escape, for she was growing weaker by the minute. The cries for help were feebler now and the baby had stopped crying. There was a terrible silence permeating the stairwell, and a stillness that only increased her terror.

‘Help,’ she whispered on a frail breath. ‘Help us, please.’

She had no idea of how long she’d been trapped there but it felt like a lifetime. Her head was swimming, her lungs burning as her heart began to struggle. The darkness was taking her, lulling her to sleep – a welcome sleep that promised relief from the pain and the terror – but a sleep strangely disturbed by the faint ringing of discordant bells and shouts.

Forcing her eyes open, she stared into the blackness as the bells and the shouts grew louder. And then it seemed the weight pressing on her was lightening and she was able to expand her lungs and breathe properly again. As she tried to understand what was happening a pair of strong arms lifted her up and carried her towards a shaft of pale light. She felt the cool mist of rain on her face and gratefully gulped down the wonderfully fresh, cold air. It was all right. She was alive and Archie had rescued her.

She looked up at the man who was carrying her. It wasn’t Archie. ‘You’ve got to find Archie,’ she managed to gasp. ‘He’s big, with a beard and wearing naval uniform.’

‘I expect he’ll be with you soon, ducks,’ he replied as he set her down beneath the railway arches and covered her with a rough blanket. ‘You just sit tight and wait there so the medics can give you the once-over.’

Doreen, still numb and disorientated by her terrifying experience, watched him hurry away to join the other firemen. She couldn’t think straight, her ribs felt crushed and every breath was like a knife as she tried to massage life back into her legs and arms and ease the awful crick in her neck. Yet that was nothing compared to the fear of not knowing what had happened to Archie, and as a first aider checked her over and declared her to be free of any broken bones, her gaze never left the rescuers who worked furiously to tear away the restrictive corrugated iron and bring up those trapped on the lethal stairs.

Some walked out without a scratch on them, bewildered and fearful for their loved ones; others had to be carried to the ambulances – while yet more were carried out in grim silence beneath blankets to be laid almost reverently on the pavement.