Under the Apple Tree (24 page)

Judy would be doing that, Chris thought. Judy would be

out there now, setting up an Incident Enquiry Centre or out

on an ambulance somewhere. Oh God, he prayed, keep her

safe. Don’t let her be hurt.

The planes were almost overhead. The men jammed their

tin helmets on their heads and watched tautly as one

streaked low, heading straight for South Parade Pier. The

roar of its engine shook the wooden turret, shook the hotel

itself. Frozen, Chris stared as a stick of bombs fell away

from its belly - four of them in a line, each falling into the

sea and sending up a huge spray of foam and shingle. Then

he saw that the plane was coming over the pier and straight

for the hotel. There’ll be another bomb, he thought, it’ll be

a direct hit. Someone grabbed his arm and he turned to see

the Chief yelling at him, the words inaudible but the

meaning clear. ‘Get downstairs, you fool!’ He found himself

pushed unceremoniously towards the steel ladder and

tumbled down it, ducking into the rest-room at the bottom

just as the explosion shook the building.

‘Hell’s teeth!’ Spud muttered in his ear as the noise died

slowly away. ‘That was flaming close.’

Cautiously, they got to their feet. There were only the

three of them there; everyone else had gone down to the basement, leaving mugs of tea and half-eaten buns on the tables.

Two mugs had fallen to the floor, spreading their contents

on the linoleum, while one had stayed miraculously upright,

its surface barely rippled. The windows had shattered and

when Chris removed his tin helmet a mass of broken glass

showered to the floor. He found shards embedded in his

jumper, and wondered briefly what would have happened if

he had been in shirtsleeves.

‘Right, let’s get back up to the post,’ the Chief said

tersely. ‘Winchester will be wondering what the hell’s going

on.’

They scrambled up the ladder. The wooden shack was

still standing. But there was a gaping hole in its roof now,

and as they crowded through the doorway they realised at

once what a narrow escape they had had.

The fifth bomb of the stick had landed behind the hotel.

Apart from the shattered windows there was little damage.

But it had dug a crater in the street below, and a paving slab

had been blown high into the air and had landed on the table

where, a few seconds earlier, Chris had been staring through

binoculars and Spud had been plotting the positions of the

enemy aircraft.

Cissie and Alice huddled in the Anderson, clutching each

other’s hands in the darkness. Both were worried about

Polly and Judy, somewhere out there amongst all the

bombs, and both were anxious about Dick, still in the Royal

Hospital. It had been damaged once already in the first Blitz

and patched up again, but who was to say it wouldn’t be hit

again? ‘They don’t bomb the same place twice,’ Alice said,

trying to be a comfort to her daughter, but Cissie shook her

head and a hot tear fell on to the back of her hand.

‘I can’t believe that, Mum. All these thousands of

bombs -‘ they both ducked lower at the roar and vibration

of a bomb falling not far away ‘— they’ve got to land

somewhere. I don’t see how they can miss a big place like

the Royal.’

‘But aren’t they more likely to aim for the Dockyard? I

mean, the ships are more vital to them, aren’t they, and the

repair shops. I reckon anywhere else just gets hit by

accident.’

‘Mum, they don’t care where they hit now. All that stuff

about only aiming for military targets - that’s all gone by the board. They just want to destroy and kill wherever they can.

And if they can’t kill us, they’ll frighten us to death. It’s

what they call terror bombing.’ Cissie clutched her hand

even more tightly as another explosion rocked the earth and

the corrugated iron roof of the Anderson shifted and

screeched. ‘Oh my God, my God! Oh, Dick - where are

you? I want him back, Mum, I want him home!’

Alice was in tears. ‘He’s better off where he is, Cis. He’s

being looked after, he’s safe.’

‘He’s not! He’s not! The Royal’s already been bombed

once. He could be being bombed now, this very minute.’

Cissie had lost all control. ‘At least if he was home I’d know

what was happening, I could look after him myself. I’m

going to get him, Mum.’ She half rose to her feet,

crouching in the low space, and Alice groped for her and

grasped her coat.

‘You can’t! Don’t be daft, our Cis! Sit down at once and

pull yourself together!’ Her voice sharpened, became a

reminder of the days when Cissie had been a child and her

mother a strict disciplinarian. ‘Sit down this minute!’

Shaken out of her hysteria, Cissie sank back on to the

narrow bunk, trembling with sobs. Alice put her arm around

her and drew her close, and Cissie leaned her head on her

mother’s shoulder, feeling the comfort of her mother’s

embrace just as a moment ago she had felt her authority.

‘Oh, Mum,’ she said brokenly. ‘Oh Mum, I don’t know

that I can stand any more of this.’

‘I know, love,’ Alice murmured, stroking her hair. ‘I

know. This is the worst we’ve ever known, and we’ve been

through enough in our time, heaven knows. One world war

already, the ‘flu epidemic that took your dad, the hard times

we went through in the thirties - and now this. But we’ve

got to bear up, Cis. It’s no use giving way to it all. We’ve got to keep going somehow, and keep a smile on our lips while

we do. It don’t do none of us no good to let it get on top of

us.’

‘A smile!’ Cissie said, with an attempt at a laugh. ‘I don’t

reckon anyone feels like smiling tonight.’ The noise was still

going on outside - the drone of planes, the rattle of antiaircraft fire, the sudden shattering roar of exploding bombs.

‘I don’t see how anyone can feel like smiling.’

‘Doesn’t matter what we feel like,’ Alice said with a

return to her sharpness. ‘It’s putting a smile on our faces

that counts, not what we feel like inside. It makes yon feel better, smiling does, and it makes other people feel better to see you do it. So you try it now, Cis. Come on.’

‘Oh Mum!’ This time, the laugh was unforced. ‘Who’s

going to see me? It’s pitch dark in here. Who’s going to

know if I’m smiling or not?’

‘ You’ll know,’ Alice said firmly. ‘And so will I. We’ll keep

each other cheerful, Cis, same as we’ve done all those other

times. Now come on, put a smile on your face and let’s play

a game of something to pass the time.’

‘A game?’ Cissie repeated, but Alice heard the wobbly

grin in her voice. ‘And just what game d’you think we ought

to play, Mum - I Spy With My Little Eye?

‘What are we going to do?’ Judy repeated. She stared

around at the dimly lit room, the shadowy corners heaped

with rubbish, at the torn, broken walls, at the heavy beam

that still lay across the crushed body. The darkness and the

squalor of it pressed in on her and she felt the familiar worm

of panic.

‘I don’t know,’ Polly whispered back. ‘I don’t know what

to do. I don’t know what anyone can do.’ She turned and

saw the woman’s son staring too. ‘We need help. We need

men - a doctor.’

‘She’s ‘ad it,’ he said tonelessly. ‘She’s ‘ad it, ain’t she?

Nobody can’t get her out of this.’

‘We’ll fetch help,’ Polly said again, and turned to Judy.

‘Go and see if you can find someone. Bring them here. Say

they must come. We need at least two men, strong men, and

a doctor. We’ve got to have help.’

Judy stared at her. ‘But I can’t leave you.’

‘Go!’ Polly shouted, and her voice was edged with fear.

‘Go on, go! Get some help! We can’t do it by ourselves. Please, Judy!’

Judy’s face crumpled but she turned and scurried out of

the building. Outside, the sky was crimson with flames and

even the beams of the searchlights were dimmed. She could

still hear planes overhead, and the sudden reverberation of

exploding bombs. No one will come, she thought despairingly.

Not for one old woman.

She ran out of the alley and looked both ways. Several

shops and offices were ablaze now, surrounded by firemen.

Over the road, she could see a huddle of people round

something on the pavement. She ran over and caught at an

arm. ‘What’s happening? Is there a doctor anywhere here?’

‘Kiddy hurt,’ a man said briefly. ‘Doctor’s looking after

her now.’

‘Oh.’ Judy gazed helplessly at the scene. The child was

stretched on the pavement, clearly unconscious, and a

woman was kneeling beside her. She must be the doctor Judy

had heard of the young woman doctor who had been so

brave in the bombing, coming out to help whatever the

danger. She wanted to go to her, beg her to come and help

the old woman who was dying in the slum room nearby, but

she knew she could not. This was a child, in, equal or

perhaps worse danger. The doctor wouldn’t leave her, and

Judy couldn’t ask it.

A van screeched to a halt and Judy looked round and saw

Gladys Shaw scrambling down from.the driver’s seat. Her

mother Peggy came round from the passenger’s side.

‘What’s the trouble? Does anyone need taking to the

hospital?’ She looked down at the child on the pavement

and the young woman doctor beside her, then pulled open

the back doors of the van and dragged out a stretcher. ‘Get

her into the ambulance. I’ll take her straight away.’

Carefully, the doctor and two or three helpers began to lift

the small body on to it.

‘I’ll go with her,’ someone volunteered. ‘I’m her auntie,

I’ll look after her.’ There was a hasty consultation with the

doctor, and then she pulled herself up into the van with the

little girl. The crowd sighed thankfully and began to hurry

away to find shelter.

The doctor stood up and pushed back her hair. Judy

grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t go! Please - there’s an old woman

in a building over there. She’s trapped by a wooden beam

and she’s bleeding terribly. My aunt’s in there and we’ve

been lifting stuff off her, but we can’t manage any more. We

need help.’ She called out to some of the departing crowd:

‘Can some of you come - please? She’ll die if we can’t get

her out.’

A couple of men turned and came back. ‘Who is it?

Where is she?’

‘Over there.’ Judy pointed. ‘Her son’s in there with her,

and my auntie. We’re both WVS, she drives an ambulance,

too - it’s that van over there. The ceiling’s all fallen in and the old lady’s in a terrible way, crying and screaming and

being sick.’ They were all hurrying across the road now,

leaping across the snaking hoses of the firemen, dodging

past vehicles and fallen masonry. Judy ducked down the

dark little alleyway and led them into the courtyard. ‘She’s

in there.’

There was a brief pause. The two men, the doctor and

Judy all stood for a moment, staring at the building, at the

wall that still leaned outwards, looking as if it might topple

at any moment. Then the doctor turned to Judy and began

to speak.

Judy never knew what she had been going to say. At that

moment, there was a tremendous explosion as a bomb fell

only a few streets away. What glass there was left in the

surrounding windows blew outwards, spattering them with

lethal shards. One of the men screamed and clapped both

hands over his eyes, and the other jerked him and Judy to

the ground. The doctor dropped beside her and then cried

out and dragged them all to their feet again, pointing wildly

at the building above them.

The wall that had been leaning so precariously outwards

seemed to shiver and bend in the flickering light of the

flames that burned the sky. It buckled slowly and began to

fall into the courtyard. There was a shattering roar, and

Judy and the others scuttled back into the alleyway just in

time.

The narrow passage was filled with dust; thick, fine,

choking dust. Judy retched and struggled for breath. She

could see nothing in the sudden swirling darkness; she could

feel only the urgent hands of the young doctor, thrusting

her towards the entrance to the alleyway, towards what fresh

air there was. Her mind was filled with the compelling need

to breathe, to stay alive. I’ve got to get out of here, she

thought, I’ve got to get out. And then, following swiftly,

another thought: But Polly’s still inside…

‘Polly!’ She turned and tried to run back into the alley.

‘Polly - my aunt - she was in there! She was in that building! We’ve got to go back in and get her out!’

By daybreak, the city once again lay devastated. The mine

that had destroyed Maddens Hotel had also damaged the

town railway station and the main Post Office. Kingston

Prison had been hit, and the railway line behind it blocked.

There were massive fires in the Dockyard and many homes

and businesses were hit. Over a hundred people had been