Isabella’s Airman (19 page)

By my side, Marc kicked away some of the sharp edges. “Report back with how many are trapped. Don’t take any action. Just assess the situation and come straight back.”

Before I could enter, the little girl scrambled through and then looked over her shoulder at me. “Come on, miss.”

I followed.

I refused to think about the incendiaries flooding from the sky and covering the street. I ignored the knowledge that the heavy bombs would be next. Instead, I concentrated on moving forward, a little at a time, following the child.

I’d been on a bus with Davy. While upright, it had seemed spacious. Now it felt cramped. The seats had broken away and were tangled together, with people trapped underneath. We’d gone in through the back window, underneath the staircase, but it took long moments for me to orient myself.

Memories of being trapped in the collapsed air raid shelter were crippling me. Every time I blinked, I remembered how it felt. Being helpless. Afraid for my life. I hauled in a ragged breath, my heart pounding.

“Mum! Mum!” The girl wriggled underneath a broken pole and reached a young woman.

“Maisie.” They clung to each other, and then she saw me. “Are you a nurse? I think I’m going into early labor.”

Labor? Dear God, she was pregnant? “Um, no. But I’ll do what I can to help.” I was crazy. I didn’t want to be in here. The bus stank of fuel and fear. I inched closer, working my way past the broken seat frames. “My name is Isabella.”

“I’m Violet. My son Bobby is in here too, but he’s gone quiet. Please get him out first.”

Report back, Marc had said. How many were trapped? An old man sprawled underneath a seat, and another young woman lay sobbing. The driver and conductor should be here somewhere too, and there might be more upstairs. “I have to go report.”

“Please take Bobby.”

I couldn’t even
see
her son. “I’ll be right back.”

“Help me,
please
help me.” The other woman shouted to me, her words choked.

“I’ll come back,” I repeated, and I started to retrace my steps.

“
Isabella. Isabella
.” That was Marc’s voice, loud and urgent.

Sweat ran down my forehead and dripped from my nose, and when I reached up to wipe my face, I managed to rub dust into my eyes. Why was it so hot in here? I could see my exit hole up ahead, only now it glowed bright orange with a flickering, dancing light.

The bus was on fire.

My heart stopped. I forgot how to breathe. I couldn’t even blink away the perspiration trickling into my eyes.

Every instinct told me to turn around and get as far away from the flames as possible.

Logic reminded me that my only exit lay ahead.

As my lungs suddenly creaked back into life and oxygen crept into my brain, I knew I couldn’t leave the others trapped in here.

“
Isabella
. Get out.” That was Marc again.

What if I was changing the timeline again? Right now? I was putting Marc at risk. There was no guarantee he’d get back to our time, and none that I’d survive, either.

No
, I couldn’t think like that.

My knees hurt from crawling through the wreckage that had been the interior of the bus, and I focused on this pain. It sharpened my mind. “Marc,” I shouted. “Two women, two children, one man. There may be more upstairs.”

“You need to get out.
Now
.” I saw his face through the flickering curtain in front of me.

“Two women, two children, one man,” I repeated as loud as I could. “One woman is pregnant and might be in labor. We need a medic.” I corrected myself. “A doctor.” I was petrified, but I had to keep my wits about me. “Can you smash the side windows to get us out?”

“Any minute now. It’s toughened glass.”

A muffled
whoomph
sounded in front of me, and the flickering curtain became a solid sheet of flame. I scuttled back, the air tight in my lungs. The staircase was on fire. I had no way to get out.

Behind me, someone screamed. In my head, I screamed too.

Over the roaring of the flames outside, the crackling and spitting of the burning staircase, and the shouts and screams, I heard more metallic clinking noises. More incendiaries?

I had to get as far back as possible. Dodging around the broken seats, I hurried back to the passengers. The sobbing woman lay silently now, her head bowed. The little girl—Maisie—held tightly to her mother’s hand and huddled close. Their positions were reversed. The child was now the protector.

More metallic rattles sounded above my head, and I looked up, fearful of what I’d see. Instead of a bright green flash, I saw a man. Two men. They were smashing the windows. The glass cracked, a spider web spreading across the window. I had to shield myself from the shards when it smashed. I ducked back and tugged the headscarf over my face, ducking my head.

Just in time. The pane shattered, a myriad of shards tumbling down. A man dropped through the hole, and then another, a rope trailing behind him.

I wiped my eyes, unsure if I was crying. Marc was the first to reach me. He placed a hand on my face. “You okay?” I nodded. “I want you up the rope. You can’t do anything more in here.” Another man landed in the ruined bus as he spoke. “
Go
.”

It was getting crowded in here. When Marc picked me up and pushed the rope into my hands, I obeyed. It was only a few feet, and fear lent me speed.

Another man crouched at the top and gave me his hand before hauling me out. I saw a flash of fair hair. It was Teddy. “Watch your step now. Jock will lift you down.”

Teddy? Jock? As if in a dream, I inched to the edge of the fallen bus and peered at the street below.

A giant of a man in a Royal Air Force uniform held his arms out to me. “Just let go, lassie. I’ll catch you.”

He would recognize me.

He hadn’t met me yet.

I blew out a breath and let go. He caught me and placed me gently on my feet. “How many more are in there?”

“Um. There’s two women, and one is pregnant. She thinks she’s in labor. And there’s some children and an old man.”

“We’ll get them out, don’t you worry.”

I stared at him, thoughts clicking into place in my tired brain. If Jock and Teddy were here… “The men inside, are they with you?”

“Aye. Davy’s practically a doctor. He’ll be making sure nobody bleeds to death on the way out.”

Davy
.

My knees buckled, and for a moment I thought I would faint. Davy had been there in the bus.
Beside me
. I hadn’t seen him.

Jock grabbed my arm and kept me upright. “Let’s get you sitting down and away from the street. It’s not a safe place for a young lassie.”

“I’m okay.” I stood there, swaying and wobbly, but still on my feet. “What are you doing here?” I didn’t mean to say it, but the words poured out of me, unchecked. “Why are you here? Now?”

“We’re with Bomber Command. Down to the city on a forty-eight hour pass. We were on our way to the Café du Paris but stopped to take shelter. Lucky we did, aye.”

Nothing would make me move from the stricken bus. Not the cascading incendiaries. Not the air raid warden. Not the repeated urging from Jock to move to safety. Wardens were plying water on the flames and holding them back. Making it safer for the people inside.

Davy,
my Davy
, was inside the burning bus with Marc and Teddy and another man. I hadn’t seen my lover for three long, pain-filled months, and it would be at least another six before I saw him again.
If
I saw him again. I was hungry to just catch sight of him, to see his ready smile and hear his voice. The little details I wanted to store and file away to sustain me in the lonely months ahead.

I wanted to talk to him. Hold him safe. Kiss him. Lose myself in our love.

I could do none of these.

If he saw me, it wouldn’t do any harm. My previously long hair was cropped short now and dyed a deep, walnut brown. I didn’t look anything like the shy girl he would fall in love with half a year later.

I busied myself with a shovel, helping to put out the incendiaries, but never moving far from the bus.

Slowly, the casualties emerged. The young girl. Then Teddy, carrying a small boy. I hurried forward, took the child from him, and carried him to a nearby doorway. He was lighter than I expected, and thin, his legs limp and twisted. Maisie had said he was a cripple. The poor mite. What kind of future would he have? He stared up at me, his eyes wide and frightened, but he didn’t make a sound until his sister hugged him.

He had a loving family. That counted for a lot.

Marc and Davy came out last, helping Maisie’s pregnant mother and carrying her between them. By this time, an ambulance had arrived and already loaded up the other passengers. My heart swelled with love for my two men. One represented my past, the other my future. I was so proud of them both.

I hovered behind them while they settled Maisie’s mum in the ambulance. I had to say something to Davy, but what? I couldn’t walk away from here without speaking to him.

Marc turned on his heel, his eyes searching the crowd until he found me. He shook his head when he met my gaze. He must know. They must have swapped names while they worked together in the bus.

When Marc strode toward me and threw his arm around my shoulder, it wasn’t an affectionate gesture. He spoke into my ear. “You know who that is, and so do I. And we are going to walk away.”

I dug my heels into the road. “No. I can’t.”

“You can, Isabella, and you will.”

“But—”

“But nothing. If you speak to him now, you might change the timeline even further. You might lose him forever.”

I didn’t move. I couldn’t.

“Walk away with me. You’ll see him again soon.”

A tear squeezed from my eye and rolled down my cheek. Marc made sense, but it tore at me that I wouldn’t even get to speak to Davy.

I hung my head, exhaustion and defeat taking hold. “Okay.” I don’t know if Marc even heard me over all the background noise. Fire had taken hold in the surrounding buildings. Bells rang and people shouted. The bombers still droned overhead, and the anti-aircraft guns continued to fire. The world continued as it had, but mine had changed. Again.

A clatter of footsteps behind us snagged our attention. “Hi, you left your bag.”

It was Davy. He jogged up to us, Marc’s bag in his arms. I’d been carrying it and had put it down earlier.

I couldn’t take my eyes off him, my lover. His uniform was filthy, and dirt caked his beautiful face, but his teeth gleamed white when he smiled. “Here you are.” He held out the leather satchel.

Marc took it after flashing a warning frown at me. “Thank you.”

“Thank
you
for your help in there. Which service are you in?”

“I work in Intelligence,” lied Marc, but maybe it wasn’t such a lie after all.

It seemed to satisfy Davy’s curiosity. He turned to me now. “Your husband helped to save lives tonight. You should be proud of him.”

Husband? Was that what Marc had said? My cousin nudged me. Davy waited for my reply.

I know if Marc hadn’t been holding me, I might have hurled myself into Davy’s arms. Every cell of my body called to him, the longing to touch him excruciating when it was denied. Even as I reacquainted myself with his features, my heart wept.

Be strong.
He will be my husband one day soon.

“Yes,” I choked out. “I am very proud of him. Of you both.”

Davy ducked his head and rubbed at the back of his neck in a move so familiar it made my chest hurt. “Be careful. It’s not safe out here.” Glancing up, he held out a hand to me. “Sergeant Davy Porteous.”

God. Could I do this? Even thinking I was married, did he feel the same pull toward me?

As I teetered on the verge of shaking his hand, desperate for his touch, and fearing I wouldn’t be able to pull away, Marc pre-empted me. He took Davy’s hand instead, shook it, and then smiled. “My wife is distressed. Please excuse us.”

I couldn’t have turned my back on Davy and walked away if Marc hadn’t been leading me. My eyes were too blurry to see where we were going, and I stumbled along, my head down, trying to hold myself together.

At some point, Marc tugged me down to sit next to him in a cramped space on the underground platform. I lifted tear-filled eyes to his, but I couldn’t speak. The horrors of the evening finally smashed into me. The fires. The bus. Seeing Davy.
Leaving
Davy. It was like losing him all over again. I felt raw, as though I’d lost the top layer of my skin. Everything hurt.

Marc wrapped his arms around me, my face against his chest, and he let me weep. Great, earth-shaking sobs erupted, and I fell apart. I don’t know how long I sat there, my heart breaking, while he held me.

When the worst had subsided, Marc spoke, his voice close to my ear. “You probably don’t believe me, but I know how you feel.”

His words sank in. “What do you mean?”

He sighed. “I walked away from someone. And it was the hardest thing I ever had to do.” His heart thumped steadily beneath my ear, the rhythm soothing. “He’s a good man. You have a future together, Isabella. Hold onto that thought.”

I would have to. It was all I had left.

We were exhausted the next morning after a restless and uncomfortable night, and I swore I would never try to sleep on a station platform again. My back ached, and my head thumped, but the pain in my chest hurt the most. I’d spent the night watching out for Davy, hoping he might take shelter near us, but I didn’t see him.

Over a shared cup of tea bought on the platform, Marc admitted he was worried for my safety. He wanted me out of London today, and as far from the stricken capital as possible.

We emerged from the underground to find that London had changed even more. The firestorm, followed by hours of relentless heavy bombing, had devastated the city center. Entire streets had been reduced to rubble. Craters pockmarked every street. Some fires still burned, the overstretched firemen leaving them to burn out on their own. Everywhere we looked, covered bodies lay on the pavements.