The Mersey Daughter (Empire Street #3)(62)
‘Good show, Fawcett,’ muttered the captain, and Laura almost smiled to herself as she’d imagined him falling asleep after his successful meeting. But then, before she could complete the manoeuvre, there was an immense explosion and the ground beneath them shook.
For a moment she lost her sense of where she was, and wondered if there had been an earthquake. Lights were flashing and there was a smell of burning, of brick dust, and something sharper. Oh no, those poor bomb disposal boys, she groaned, as the realisation struck her of what must have happened. Her hand flew to her mouth and only then did she realise she’d spoken the words aloud. Swiftly she tried to marshal her thoughts and check if the car was intact, that the windows hadn’t broken in the shock wave from the blast.
‘You all right, Fawcett?’ She couldn’t tell if the captain’s tone was perfunctory or concerned.
‘Perfectly all right, sir.’ She hoped that was true. Then, in the light of the fierce blaze, she saw that debris had fallen across the road, blocking their way. ‘Bit of a problem with the route back, though. We might have to walk.’
‘Good thinking, Fawcett.’ The captain didn’t sound shaken at all. She supposed he’d been through much worse on active service. ‘Let’s get on with it before something else goes up. Not much we can do here. They’re bound to have evacuated the residential buildings already.’
They got out of the car and Laura drew her scarf across her nose to try to block out the smell and the smoke that was now billowing down the street between the tall terraced houses on either side. Some of them had lost their windows and glass cracked underfoot. She almost fell on some and Captain Cavendish automatically slipped a hand under her elbow to steady her. ‘Careful, Fawcett. No sense in adding to the casualty total.’
‘No indeed, sir.’ She couldn’t tell if he was trying to make light of the situation or not, but she registered that his hand was very strong and could sense the warmth of it against her arm, which she hoped wasn’t shaking. For a moment she thought he was going to keep it there. Then he dropped it.
They edged around the debris and could make out a clear path to the next street, but then a scream pierced the air. A woman was running towards them, her distress plain to see in the firelight. She was pointing at one of the houses at the other end of the row, closer to the fire.
‘My baby!’ She was beside herself in grief, in panic. She pushed past them as Laura tried to reach out to calm her. ‘Let me through, my baby’s in there!’ She broke free and ran towards the building, just as they saw the roof begin to catch fire. Sparks were flying all around now, and Laura instantly hit one that landed on her sleeve.
‘Stop!’ cried the captain. ‘The authorities have cleared the buildings, your baby will be safe.’
The woman turned and screamed in anguish. ‘He isn’t, they didn’t know he was there. My neighbour was watching my kids and the older ones are with her, but they left the baby, they left him … she thought I’d taken him with me but I hadn’t, he’s in there still. I’m going to get him.’
Cavendish didn’t hesitate. ‘You hold her back, Fawcett. She’ll do no good in that state. I’ll go in and check. Which floor?’ he shouted at the woman, who was now half collapsed and clinging to Laura.
‘T … t … top floor,’ wailed the woman, almost incoherent through fear and despair.
The captain ran faster than Laura could ever have imagined, and plunged through the door of the building, the windows of which were smashed. Laura thought she could hear a wailing from inside, but the noise of all the spreading fires and breaking glass was so great she couldn’t have. She had no time to fear for the captain; all her attentions had to be on keeping the mother out of the way and as calm as possible.
‘Now there’s no need to worry,’ she began, though her teeth had started to chatter with stress, ‘Captain Cavendish is the best there is and he’ll get your baby out. We must get you to the nearest ARP post. Do you know where that is? Is it behind us?’ She dreaded to think what had happened to the kindly warden who’d spoken to them what must have been only a few minutes before, but he ought to have colleagues somewhere.
The woman was whimpering and Laura couldn’t make out what she was saying. She asked her again, and finally worked out where to head for, half carrying the anguished mother, who was dragging her feet in the shards of glass. Laura was finding it harder and harder to breathe through the combination of exertion and smoke, and had never been so thankful to see a policeman rushing towards them. Quickly she explained what had happened.
‘I’ll take care of this,’ he said. ‘Madam, you must come with me. You too, Miss.’
Laura was about to follow his suggestion, when she realised she could not leave the captain to his task alone. Who else would know exactly where he had gone? It was her duty to return to ensure he emerged safely with the baby, and tell him where the mother could be found. ‘I must find my superior officer,’ she told the policeman quickly and then, before he could stop her, she turned and sprinted back down the street. More roofs had caught fire, and now she was surrounded by blazing buildings, the smoke thicker than ever, the glass crunching beneath every footstep, but she didn’t halt until she got to the woman’s house. Her face was streaming with sweat and her throat was sore as she shouted ‘Sir?’ as loudly as she could. She hoped against hope he had found the child and got to a lower floor, as the flames were licking the shattered windows of the topmost, and nobody, not even the athletic Captain Cavendish, could survive there. ‘Sir?’ she shouted again, desperately listening for any kind of response. ‘Sir! I’m out on the street right in front of the house! Can you hear me?’ But all she could hear was the roar of the fire and the crash of collapsing buildings and the sound of breaking glass. She swatted at falling sparks and strained every nerve to catch a trace of him, but the fire drowned everything out.