Winter on the Mersey(93)

‘Sing that one for me, Kitty.’

Kitty bit her lip at the memory and then, knowing it was to keep him alert, and possibly anyone else who was trapped down here with them, she sang the song, the one that meant something to both of them, wishing that she could be close to Frank now, holding his hand. Gloria would have been proud of the performance, she thought as she came to the final chorus. ‘How was that, Frank?’

But he didn’t answer.

Sarah slowly dragged herself downstairs to the kitchen sink and turned on the tap. She must have passed out briefly and she was disorientated. Her head was pounding and her nose felt swollen. Filled with dread, she carefully lit the gas lamp and glanced in the old mirror. She gasped in horror at the sight of her face covered in blood. She knew she had to clean herself up before Tommy or Georgie saw her. Drawing on all her training, she carefully dabbed at the mess, careful not to press too hard, swearing to replace the tea towel with a clean one when she had the chance. Kitty wouldn’t mind, she knew. It was silly to worry about a little thing like that, but somehow it helped deal with the pain.

The full horror of what had happened to her was only now beginning to dawn. A man had come into her bedroom, had groped her under the blankets then beaten her. At first the memory was fuzzy but slowly her mind cleared. He had thought she was Kitty. He had smelled heavily of sour beer. She hadn’t seen more than an outline of him but the voice had sounded familiar.

She was thankful in one way that beating her was all he had done. It could have been so much worse. From her work at the hospital and the Red Cross post, she’d come across horrendous stories: men forcing themselves on women under cover of the blackout, taking advantage of the most vulnerable. She shivered. All the same, her head was ringing with the agony from the punches and she was sure her body would be bruised in the morning. She hadn’t exactly got off lightly.

When she’d done all she could, she rinsed out the ruined tea towel and wrung it tightly, before hiding it under the sink – she didn’t want Georgie to see it in the morning. She hoped he and Tommy had slept through everything, and were safely in their beds. She thought she’d better find her first-aid kit, which she’d brought with her from habit. It would be in her bag, back up in the bedroom. She would check on the boys while she was up there. She stumbled a little as she mounted the stairs, at once weary and yet with no inclination to sleep, shaky with energy from the shock. She had no idea for how long she’d passed out, or been in the kitchen, or what the time was now.

Tommy came out of his room as she reached the top. She angled her torch so he wouldn’t see her face.

‘Sorry, did I wake you? I just needed something from the kitchen.’ She tried to make her voice as normal as she could.

Tommy shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘I had a bad nightmare. There was crashing and banging and screaming, I didn’t know what was going on. I just woke up. But where’s Georgie?’

Kitty awoke from a doze, confused and thirsty. She could feel pins and needles in her legs and the earthy smell was growing stronger. The air seemed more fetid. She knew she had to stay calm, but the temptation to give in to panic was strong. The tiny glimmer of light had vanished now.

‘Frank?’ she called hesitantly, afraid he still wouldn’t answer. For a moment her heart nearly stopped as there was only silence, and then she heard him give a quiet cough. ‘Sorry, Kitty, must have drifted off there for a moment.’

‘Me too.’ That was an understatement, and she knew he must have been drifting in and out of consciousness for much of their time underground.

‘It won’t be long now.’ He sounded weaker this time, his voice hoarse. ‘They’re bound to be with us soon.’

‘Yes, you’re right,’ she said, hanging on to his words for desperately needed comfort. She had to believe it was true. Anything else was unthinkable. She had to be brave. Many others had suffered worse than this. And yet there was that horrible suspicion at the back of her mind that the air couldn’t last much longer.

‘How’s your arm?’ Frank asked.

‘Still letting me know it’s there,’ she said, forcing herself to make light of the pain.

‘Well, that’s a good thing, shows the nerves are working.’

‘You sound like Rita or Sarah,’ she said, smiling at the thought of his sisters, imagining them in their nurses’ uniforms, and then wincing as a sharper bolt of pain shot along the length of her arm. She gritted her teeth. Better that it hurt than went completely numb.

‘Bet they’d know what to do if they had you in their hospital,’ he went on.

‘Yes, and they’ll have seen far worse than this. We’re lucky, really,’ she replied, trying to convince herself. Her ears caught a distant sound. ‘What’s that noise? Can you hear it, Frank?’

‘Hang on.’ Frank paused for a few seconds. ‘Yes, it’s … well, I could be wrong, but I reckon it might be stones moving around.’

‘Moving around? You mean, more falling on us?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Frank. ‘It’s possible, but of course it could be quite a way away from us. We shouldn’t worry. We’re going to be fine, Kitty.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Again the noise came; it really did seem like more stones falling. She tried to block out the image of being buried in here for ever by the weight of bricks and blocks, slowly running out of air. ‘Frank, are you still there? It’s getting closer, isn’t it?’