Winter on the Mersey(89)
Frank nodded slowly. ‘All right, yes, I have. It’s being cooped up in that stuffy place this morning, and I have to admit I didn’t sleep well last night. Whatever my landlady’s shortcomings, I must confess the bed in my usual billet is extremely comfortable. I’ve been spoilt. The one I was given yesterday had springs poking through it, so I finally slept like a letter Z. Funny, isn’t it, when we spend most of our working lives shut inside an underground bunker, in a warren of small rooms – you’d think this would all be a breath of fresh air.’
‘Well, maybe some air is just what you need,’ Kitty suggested, determined now to be friendly but practical. ‘Come on, we don’t need to get a bus or Underground, we can walk back. I know the way. It’ll do us good.’ She deliberately didn’t ask if he would be all right to walk, knowing it would cause offence and break the fragile truce between them.
Frank tipped his head and looked straight at her. ‘Lead the way then, Kitty. You’re more familiar with this place than I am.’ For a moment she thought he was going to give her his arm, but then he put his hands in his pockets, so she was saved the embarrassment of reaching out only to have the offer taken away.
‘Let’s make our way via the back streets,’ she suggested. ‘It’ll be quieter. High Holborn gets so busy, it will be noisy and do your head no good at all.’
‘Okey doke, as Tommy would say.’
Kitty laughed. ‘I hope he’s all right and not driving your sister round the bend.’
‘How’s that?’ he asked.
‘Oh, you won’t have heard. It was all a bit last minute.’ Kitty found the street she wanted and explained the arrangement she and Sarah had come to, in order not to wound Tommy’s pride but still keep an eye on him.
Frank laughed when he understood how they’d achieved that delicate balance. ‘It’s hard to remember that Tommy’s almost a young man now,’ he said fondly.
‘You haven’t seen him on his bike, have you? Honestly, it’s a wonder he hasn’t fallen off yet, the speed he goes around corners,’ she replied – but whatever she was going to say next was lost as a powerful blast hit them, without the slightest hint of any warning. It was only afterwards that the hideous noise of the V2 bomb’s descent could be heard – but by then the walls of neighbouring buildings had crumbled, a vast hole had opened in the narrow street, and Kitty and Frank were submerged in a pile of bricks and rubble.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
When Kitty came to, all she could see was darkness, with a few smudges of weak light way off to one side, but she couldn’t turn her head to see where they were coming from. She was unable to move much at all, as she seemed to be wedged in tight by sharp, heavy objects on both sides. The smell was suffocating – damp stone, dry dust, and a troublingly earthy scent that she couldn’t quite place but didn’t want to think about too carefully. Cautiously she tried to move her fingers and toes. The toes were all right and so were the fingers on her right hand, but when she tried to move those on her left, pain shot through her all the way to her shoulder, making her gasp. She strained to remember where she was. Gradually it came back to her – the big meeting, the smaller impromptu one, walking along with Frank … Frank. Where was he?
She tried to call but nothing came out. Her throat was painful and dry. How long had she been trapped here? She coughed a little and had another go. ‘Frank,’ she managed to half-whisper. Then, more strongly, ‘Frank! Are you there? Are you all right?’
There was no reply. Slowly it came to her that there were faint low moans coming from different directions, and she had no way of telling if any of them came from Frank. She wondered how many people had been caught in the blast. They had been walking between tall buildings; they must have been full of Londoners going about their daily business. Now they were all caught in the ruins of what had been a normal street, full of normal workers and families.
She blinked and tried to cast her eyes towards the chink of light. Was it still daytime? Maybe that was the sun shining. Perhaps that meant rescue was at hand. She knew there would be teams assigned to each area, ready to spring into action on occasions such as this, just as there were in Bootle, where Pop played a part both in salvage operations and with the ARP. She would cling to that thought – that a London equivalent of Pop would come and find her. How she wished he were here now. He would save them all. In a flash of panic she wondered if she would ever see him or any of them ever again.
Stop it, she told herself. Panic won’t help. She had to stay in control. She would continue moving her toes and the fingers of one hand, to make sure her circulation kept flowing, but nothing more in case she dislodged any more bricks, or whatever it was that pinned her in place so firmly. Now she was more alert she realised she was being held down by a heavy weight and it was very uncomfortable. ‘Frank,’ she called again, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. ‘Frank! Are you there?’
She shut her eyes tightly shut, forcing back a sob. Frank had to be still alive. She couldn’t bear it if he wasn’t. How stupid she had been, angry that he’d picked another Wren in preference to her for this trip, wasting time being cross when they’d had all day together yesterday on the train and today going round the city. They could have enjoyed each other’s company, talked properly, not pretended to be formal and indifferent.