Moonlight and Ashes (15 page)

‘How’s about I read yer all a nice story then before you go to bed, eh?’ Jo suggested as she threw her coat across the back of a chair.

Lizzie and Danny nodded eagerly, and soon they were engrossed in an Enid Blyton story. This was followed by hot cocoa and biscuits, which Danny devoured as if he hadn’t eaten for a week.

‘I really don’t know where that child puts it. I’m sure he must have hollow legs,’ Maggie grinned.

‘Ain’t nothin’ much wrong wi’ a child when they have a good appetite,’ Jo replied. ‘He’s a growin’ lad. Me brother is much the same. The greedy little bugger would eat us out of house an’ home if I’d let him. But anyway - if you’ve finished, kids, I’ll come an’ tuck you up in bed. I might get to have a few minutes wi’ yer mam then.’

Almost an hour later, when Jo and Maggie were comfortably settled at the side of the fire, a tap came to the back door.

‘I wonder who that could be at this time of night?’ Maggie remarked. It was almost nine o’clock and she wasn’t expecting anyone. Hurrying to the door, she quickly drew back the black-out curtain and opened it to find her mother-in-law standing shamefaced on the doorstep. It was the first time she’d seen her since the night Sam left home, but she held the door wide, making the flames on the fire sputter and lick up the chimney.

‘Come on in out of the cold,’ she invited, and when the woman had done just that, she quickly closed the door behind her.

When Beryl Bright saw that Maggie had a visitor she flushed to the roots of her hair.

Rising rapidly, Jo flashed her a smile. ‘Don’t worry. I was just about to leave.’

‘Oh no, please . . . not on my account,’ Beryl stuttered.

‘It’s all right, really. I’ve got loads o’ jobs to do at home,’ Jo assured her as she dragged her coat on.

Once Maggie had seen her to the door and they’d said their goodbyes, she turned back to Beryl. The poor woman looked absolutely dreadful. She had lost a lot of weight and there were dark circles beneath her eyes that told of the sleepless nights she was experiencing.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner, love,’ she muttered. ‘It’s unforgivable o’ me to have left you to cope wi’ the little ones all on yer own. But the thing is . . . I wasn’t sure that I’d still be welcome after what I’ve done.’ She hung her head.

Maggie led her towards the fire. ‘Look, you sit yourself down and get warmed through, eh? And don’t worry. You haven’t done anything wrong from where I’m standing.’

‘But I sheltered Sam when I knew he were shirkin’ his responsibilities, even though I was so ashamed of him.’

Maggie shrugged. ‘I dare say I would have done the same, if it had been my son.’

Beryl breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thanks for bein’ so understandin’, love. But how are you managin’ all on yer own?’

‘Actually, a lot better than I thought I would,’ Maggie admitted. ‘I’ve finished at the factory, but I’ve started to take in sewing jobs. It’s long hours, but it’s paying the bills and I get to be here for the children, which is worth a lot.’

Beryl’s head wagged in admiration and agreement, as she slowly extracted a letter from the depths of her voluminous handbag.

‘I er . . . I had this come today an’ I thought yer should see it. It’s from our Sam.’ She watched the colour drain from Maggie’s face before going on, ‘I dare say he was too ashamed to write to you after what he’s done.’

After passing the letter to Maggie she sat silently as the younger woman’s eyes scanned the page. It was really more of a note than a letter and just said that he’d now finished his training and was about to be shipped out, though he had no idea where.

Maggie felt tears sting at the back of her eyes. He hadn’t even bothered to let her know directly, which just went to show how little he thought of her and the children. As if reading her mind, Beryl reached across and squeezed her hand.

‘Don’t take it to heart, love. Yer know what Sam’s like. He’s my own flesh and blood, but he can be a thoughtless bugger at times. I’ve said it before an’ I’ll say it again: sometimes I wonder how two such different lads could have popped out o’ me at the same time. I reckon all the good must have gone into our David an’ left nothin’ fer Sam, but all the same he’s still mine an’ I can’t help but love him.’

‘That’s just as it should be,’ Maggie said softly, thinking of her own children tucked upstairs fast asleep. ‘Speaking of David, have you heard from him lately?’

‘Not so much as a whisper fer about a month now. Last letter that came, he told me he was somewhere in France, God help him. But anyway, I ought to be going now. I’m glad that yer copin’ so well. But should yer need anythin’ I’m not far away, so don’t hesitate to ask.’

‘Thanks, I’ll remember that.’ Maggie trailed her to the door where they embraced.

‘You take care now,’ Beryl told her and then she slipped away into the cold night.

Unable to settle, Maggie went back to her sewing, and it was almost midnight before she finally climbed the stairs to bed. She’d just lifted the blankets when the sound of the air-raid siren pierced the air. For the briefest of moments she was rooted to the ground with fear. This time there was no one to help her. Even as she stood there, she heard the sound of doors opening as the street came to life and people ran to their shelters. Snatching up her dressing-gown, she yanked it on before sprinting across the landing and throwing the twins’ bedroom door open. As she did so, the drone of the first aeroplanes overhead blocked out all the other noises. They were so low that she was sure they would take the roof off.

‘Lizzie, Danny. Wake up!’ The urgency in her voice sliced through the air like a knife. ‘Come on! We have to get to the shelter. Put your dressing-gowns on and get downstairs as quickly as you can.’ Racing back down the landing, she snatched Lucy from the cot at the side of her bed. By the time she got to the top of the stairs again the twins were emerging from their room, putting on their dressing-gowns and slippers, and yawning.

Forcing herself to stay calm, she ushered them in front of her. As they reached the bottom of the stairs, a huge explosion shook the house. Lizzie began to cry and shrank into Danny’s side.

Running through the kitchen, Maggie battled with the bolts on the back door before finally managing to wrench it open. ‘Into the shelter -
now
!’

She allowed herself to glance briefly up at the sky and was horrified by what she saw. It seemed to be full of planes. So many that they were blocking out the light of the moon. Searchlights swept back and forth, and even as she ushered her children towards the Anderson shelter, the night was filled with the sound of gunfire.

The short journey across the yard seemed to take forever, but at last she had manhandled the shelter door open and thrust them inside.

‘Get into the bunks and snuggle down. You’ll soon get warm again,’ she told Lizzie reassuringly. The child was still softly sobbing and trembling with fear.

Once they’d all clambered into the bunks and the blankets were tucked around them, Maggie addressed Danny. ‘I want you to be really brave now and look after Lizzie and Lucy for me while I run across the road to fetch your gran. As soon as we get back, I’ll light the candles and make us all more comfortable.’ Her teeth were chattering and Maggie had no idea if it was from the cold damp atmosphere, or fear. What she did know was that she had to get her mam to the safety of the shelter.

When Danny slowly nodded, she patted his hand. ‘Good lad. I’ll be back as soon as I can.’ With that she slipped outside again, closing the door securely behind her.

Her mother’s house was in darkness and so Maggie began to hammer on the door. ‘Mam, Mam - wake up!’

Her cries were drowned out by the drone of the planes in the sky overhead, but still she continued to bang on the door until at last the bedroom window above her head was pushed open.

‘Mam, there’s a raid on. Get yourself down here and come over into the shelter with me an’ the children,’ she cried urgently.

Ellen slowly shook her head, which was covered in metal curlers. ‘You get yourself back to them children. I’m stayin’ put. If me time’s come then I want to die in me own bed.’

‘Mam,
please
!’

Ellen heard the catch in her daughter’s voice, but still she called down, ‘Go on, love. I’m fine where I am. Yer can stand there till the cows come home an’ I won’t change me mind so get back to them that need yer.’ With that she banged the window shut again and Maggie could only wring her hands in frustration.

She stood there undecided for a few seconds but then raced back across the road. She had a feeling that it was going to be a very long night.

The children finally slipped into an exhausted sleep in the early hours of the morning. Maggie had no idea at all how long she had sat huddled there in the chair with a thin blanket wrapped around her. She just knew that it seemed to have been for a lifetime, and still there was no sign of the raid abating. Every now and again, as a bomb crashed nearby, the shelter seemed to shake and the sound of glass shattering was deafening. Occasionally a drop of moisture that clung to the damp metal roof would drip down onto her and she would brush it away. Maggie chewed on her lip as she thought of her mother all alone across the road. What if one of the bombs was to drop on her house? What would she find when she left the shelter? Would the houses in the Lane still be standing? Her eyes continuously went to the sleeping children. They were all so very precious to her. What if a bomb was to drop on
them
? Hotching further down into the chair, she began to pray once more.

After what seemed an eternity, the drone of the planes slowly receded and an unnatural silence settled around her. She longed to step outside to see what damage was done but until the all clear sounded she was too afraid to do so. Her eyes were gritty from lack of sleep as she kept her vigil over her children, but at last exhaustion took over and she fell into a shallow slumber.

 

Some time later, the sound of someone hammering on the tin door of the shelter brought her springing awake. Almost falling from the chair, Maggie winced with pain as her stiff limbs screamed a protest and then she was tugging it open and there was her mother. In a second the two women were locked in each other’s arms.

‘Eeh, love, yer gave me a rare fright, I don’t mind tellin’ yer’,’ Ellen sobbed. ‘The all clear sounded ages ago, an’ when there was no sign o’ you or the children, me mind began to do overtime. Why didn’t yer come out when it sounded?’

Maggie smiled sheepishly. ‘I reckon I must have dropped off. Don’t ask me how, ’cos the last I remember, the noise was enough to deafen you.’

Glancing across her mother’s shoulder she was relieved to see that her home was still standing. As if reading her thoughts, Ellen shook her head sadly. ‘They ain’t been as lucky as us a few streets away. Some of the houses in Canal Street have been razed to the ground, some of ’em with people still inside ’em. Charity Cottages and Swan Road took a bashin’ as well. The men are round there now, goin’ through the rubble to see if they can find any survivors.’

Maggie shuddered at the thought. The air smelled of dust and soot, and for as far as she could see above the rooftops, plumes of smoke rose into the sky. Now instead of the drone of planes, the clamour of fire-engine bells hung on the air.

‘Come on, let’s get the children inside and put something warm inside them,’ Ellen urged. ‘Needless to say, they won’t be going to school today.’

 

As the morning passed, word spread of the devastation the raid had caused. Many of the shops in Primrose Hill Street had suffered severe damage and the new Rex theatre was in ruins.

‘It’s ironic when you come to think about it, ain’t it?’ Ellen mused when the news reached them. ‘They were goin’ to be showing
Gone With the Wind
tomorrer.’

As yet, they had no idea how many people had died. Maggie felt as if she was living through a nightmare as they waited to hear, and all the time the sound of sirens racing from one fire to another filled the air.

Lizzie seemed to have shrunk overnight and clung to Danny who was putting a brave face on it. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘It’s all over an’ done with now.’

Maggie nodded in agreement and smiled at him confidently, but deep inside she was thinking, How long for?

Another thought was growing in her mind, and no matter how she tried to push it away it wouldn’t be ignored. This time they’d been lucky - but what if it happened again? And what if next time, something should happen to the children?

The only way for them to be really safe now was to let them leave with the next lot of evacuees. Just the thought of it brought hot tears stinging to her eyes. She looked across at them, drinking in every feature of their faces, and in that moment she knew that she really didn’t have a choice.

During the week following the raid, sticky tape that looked like spiders’ webs appeared across the windows in the street.

‘What’s that for?’ Lizzie asked.

‘It’s to stop the glass from blowin’ out if there’s another raid,’ Danny informed her solemnly.

Lizzie gazed back at him from eyes like saucers. Danny was so clever; he seemed to know everything. Fingering the little engraved identity disc that her mother insisted they wore around their necks, she asked, ‘But they won’t bomb us again, will they, Danny?’

He shrugged. ‘Who knows? I heard Mr Massey tellin’ a man in the street that he thinks it’s far from over yet, so the chances are they
could
come again.’

At that moment a double-decker bus trundled past them and Lizzie fell silent as she thought on his words. This time she hoped that Danny was wrong. Until the bombings, the shelter had been like a playhouse to them, but now the thought of having to go inside it again filled her with dread.

 

In the warm little kitchen, Maggie read through the list in her hand. Gas masks, identity discs, two sets of underwear, spare shoes and socks/stockings, warm coat, sweater, handkerchiefs, pyjamas or a nightdress. Identity cards and ration books. Food for the journey, soap, toothbrush, toothpaste and a comb or a hairbrush and a towel.