Only a Mother Knows (41 page)

Looking out of her billet window Tilly could see very little except the occasional glimpse of a silvery flash of moon peeping through skidding clouds whilst she listened to the rain dancing on the pavement below. Maybe it won’t be so wet and drizzly by Easter, she thought as she closed the blackout curtains and switched on the low-wattage bulb. She shared this room with Janet, Pru and Veronica and was grateful they were all still together. As she turned she noticed another envelope, this time propped on the occasional table near the easy chair by the fire. Clearly someone wanted her to notice it. Ripping it open, she read that she was to report immediately to the commander’s office on her return. For a brief moment she was disappointed that her longed-for evening by the fire was going to be interrupted, but then admonished herself not to be so selfish. She had a job to do.

In no time at all she was presenting herself to Commander Stracken, an imposing although fair and kindly man in his early fifties who reminded Tilly very much of Sergeant Dawson. In front of him was a package, wrapped tightly to protect it from the weather.

‘The army are doing something very hush-hush in the East End’s Victoria Park,’ he said in low, almost church-like tones, ‘so you don’t need me to tell you that these files are of the utmost importance and urgency. You need to take them over there as fast as you possibly can. Until you hand them over, do not let them out of your sight.’

Tilly smartly saluted, knowing not to ask questions even though she could be an instant target herself. That didn’t stop her enjoying speeding through London’s streets and roads dispatching important information on a motorcycle. And not only could she ride well, she could fix the machine if it broke down too. The standards of the women of the ATS had to be higher than the men’s before they were considered half as good, as she knew only too well. They had proved their worth and showed their professionalism in everything they did. And it was with this thought that Tilly made her way over to the East End of London.

Agnes was slowly getting used to the idea of owning a farm but Ted had not taken the news very well at all, when she’d managed to find a moment to tell him in their increasingly rare private time together.

‘I hope you don’t think I’ve got any intentions of becoming a farmer,’ he declared in no uncertain terms. ‘And I hope that you’ve got no inclinations that way either! The very idea of it!’ Agnes had been extremely disappointed. It would be nice to live in the countryside, she thought, away from the smoke and the traffic of the city and getting some fresh air into their lungs instead of the thick smog they were breathing in now. She had been trying to persuade Ted to move to the countryside and the farm ever since, but he was adamant he was a city man born and bred and he was adamant he was staying put.

‘Don’t you think you’re getting a bit above yourself now, Agnes?’ Ted’s poor but honest upbringing was to the fore now, his manly spirit refusing to allow him to live off a woman – he had actually said those words – and Agnes soon came to realise that if she wanted to keep Ted she would have to give up any thoughts of living in Surrey.

She would tell him tonight that she had made up her mind and would stay here in London to be near him. Agnes decided she would ask Mr Carlton, the solicitor, if he would give her some advice on how she would go about selling the farm and hoped to give Ted the good news when they had their tea break. However, she only caught a glimpse of him at lunchtime when he was hurrying across the station.

‘I won’t be able to walk you home tonight either, Agnes,’ said Ted as they briefly passed each other, ‘I’ve offered to take a message to Bethnal Green.’

‘Oh, that’s fine, Ted,’ Agnes said, looking very pleased indeed, ‘because I’m swapping shifts and going over there myself this afternoon. I’ll be there until nine o’clock tonight. I’ll meet you up top at the end of my shift as usual.’

‘Righto, Agnes, see you later,’ said Ted. ‘Got to go now. Sounds as if something urgent’s up.’

All was quiet as Tilly rode from one side of the capital to the other on her Triumph motorcycle, and on this particularly drizzly evening no enemy bombers had been spotted. However, she had heard the news before she came on duty about the bombing raid on Berlin two days ago and although the news was optimistic Tilly knew of old that there would be some kind of retaliation and soon. She only hoped and prayed that it wouldn’t be tonight – and if so she hoped she was back in Whitehall, because everybody knew the East End, being so close to the docks, usually took a hammering during an air raid.

‘I’ll pick you up by the Bethnal Green shelter after I’ve been to see Mum, Edith,’ Dulcie said, leaning over the passenger seat of the Bentley, which David allowed her to use for her own needs, having just dropped Edith off outside Rick’s lodgings. She had forgiven her sister for the scare she gave her when she’d threatened to have an abortion, knowing now it had been a cry for help – her sister really was terrified of giving birth to and raising her baby, unlike Dulcie, who couldn’t wait. In some ways she had grown to know and love her sister a lot better since they had lived under the same roof without their mother, whom Edith hadn’t seen since her pregnancy began to show. ‘Tell Rick I’ll call over to see him tomorrow and let him know how I get on with Mum.’

Since he was able to get around more, Rick was almost back to his independent self again and had told Dulcie that he had been a burden on their mother long enough – a thinly veiled comment indicating he’d had enough of her fussing; which was a little unfair of him really, Dulcie realised, knowing that whatever her past failings, their mother was only trying to do her best for him.

With that in mind Dulcie had decided it was time to let bygones be bygones, recognising that whatever her mother had done in the past, no matter how misguided, she’d only wanted what was best for her own kids – like any mother would, she supposed.

‘Wish me luck,’ she said to Edith through the open window of the car, thinking that it was just like the old days and they were all back in the East End – except the last time she was here she wasn’t wearing an expensive fur coat and driving a car that cost as much as the house they used to live in.

Dulcie knew her mother was making a rare visit to the East End visiting her Aunt Birdy – who reportedly sang like a nightingale and who Edith took after. She knew this was where her mother’s heart lay and if it hadn’t been for Hitler she would never have moved to the countryside. Sighing now, Dulcie started the car, which almost glided the short journey to the café where they’d arranged to meet.

Dulcie was secretly thrilled, even though her mother had said she could only manage it that day as she was visiting the East End anyway. But, uncharacteristically, she hadn’t risen to the bait. What would be the point when she had so much now: her husband and the impending arrival of her new baby to occupy her time, and the doctor said she had to watch her blood pressure. Above all Dulcie wanted her mother to enjoy her grandchildren and, if she was honest, she wanted to show off a bit too, let her mother see that she had come up in the world. Dulcie Simmonds has made good! She could see it now written in big lights in the West End – well, she could if there wasn’t a blackout.

Pulling neatly into a convenient parking space, Dulcie eased her increasing bulk out from behind the wheel of the Bentley and walked the mercifully short distance down Cambridge Heath Road to the café. Opening the door she immediately spotted her mother sitting near the counter, waving like nothing had ever happened.

‘Oh, Mum, it’s so lovely to see you again!’ Dulcie cried, hugging her mother, overcome with emotion. However before they could even find a table, their reunion was cut short as they heard the siren begin to wail.

‘Come on, Mum, leave your tea and let’s get to the shelter,’ Dulcie said, taking her mother’s arm. But when they got outside they could see the searchlights arcing across the night sky before an explosion blocked out the sound of rain hitting the ground. Dulcie wondered if Edith and Rick had managed to get to the underground shelter and hoped they would make it in time. Although Edith usually said she didn’t want to go down the tube because she couldn’t stand the smell of TCP that was used to disinfect the place, Dulcie suspected she’d be one of the first there, giving an impromptu concert party to entertain the crowds.

It was getting on for a quarter past eight when Tilly, cold, wet and fed up, caught sight of the officer who was waiting to receive the classified documents. Hurriedly she handed them over and saluted, before jumping back on her motorbike and heading briskly away from Victoria Park. It felt like no more than a couple of moments later when the air-raid Civil Defence siren sounded, and almost at once she saw an orderly line of people submerge into the Bethnal Green underground shelter. Of all the nights to be caught out here, Tilly thought, and she hoped that if there really was a raid she could get out of the East End in time.

Dulcie kept a firm hold of her mother’s arm as the siren continued to sound. It was just hard luck if Edith and her mother met up now, she thought, as there was no getting away from the air raid when it came. And after the bombing of Berlin she was certain the retaliation would be swift and deadly. The East Enders had taken everything the Germans had thrown at them in the Blitz and they had staunchly stood their ground, but now, eighteen months after Hitler tried to bomb London into submission, people were tired of living hand to mouth.

‘I could tell there was going to be a raid, Dulcie,’ her mother said. ‘The wireless in the caff went dead, did you notice? That’s a sure sign.’ The woman was now hurrying towards the shelter ahead of her daughter, whose bulging girth was slowing her down a little.

‘No, Mum, I didn’t,’ Dulcie said, recalling that she was too busy trying to get her mother out of the café and persuading her to hurry up and leave her cup of tea.

A gigantic search light came on in the vicinity of Victoria Park and Dulcie began to worry; if there was a raid now there was no way she could throw herself on the ground out of harm’s way. Her mother, unperturbed by such thoughts, had already dived for cover near the bus stop.

‘Mum, come out of there, we’ll make the shelter, get up!’ Dulcie could feel her heart racing, sure this wouldn’t be doing her unborn child any good.

Then they didn’t have time to move anywhere as a huge explosion rent the air and Dulcie had no alternative but to get on the floor. As her mother pulled her down, she noticed a young lad of about fifteen being knocked off his bike by the noise of the overhead volley and everything seemed to be in slow motion as people rushed to the underground. She fervently hoped Edith had managed to get down below before the crowd surged forward.

‘Now take your time,’ called Ted from the bottom of the narrow stairwell, ‘everyone will get in safely as long as you don’t push …’ But he didn’t have time to say any more as another volley of overhead explosions could be plainly heard. In seconds the fifteen-by-eleven-feet stairwell was crowded with nervous people trying to get into the shelter. He could have sworn he saw someone trip on the stairs.

‘Here,’ he exclaimed to those nearest him, ‘let me through there, someone’s fell!’ But it became impossible to move one way or another as the bodies began to descend. Ted felt himself being lifted off his feet by the sheer mass of people and pushed back against the white-tiled wall in the bottom of the stairwell. He tried to break free from the oncoming throng but it was too difficult. He was still trying as blackness overcame him.

‘Edith!’ Dulcie yelled, but there was no sign of those Titian curls piled high on her sister’s head, whilst all the time the stairwell to the underground was disappearing under a sea of bodies. Would Edith have stayed up top, hoping she’d still get a lift home? Or would Rick have come with her and made her take shelter below?

Dulcie stared in disbelief and growing dread at the scene unfolding before her, as the crowd turned into a desperate crush of bodies. In moments some people, obviously stunned, were pulling at arms and legs, anything they could get hold of, to try and get other people out. Old and young were fighting for theirs and their neighbour’s lives. If it hadn’t been so horrifically tragic Dulcie would have choked up with pure pride at the bravery of the rescuers; ordinary men, women and even children fought desperately to get everybody above ground.

She let out an agonised cry when she saw people piling up on the stairwell knowing whoever was underneath could surely not be saved. Wasn’t there anybody here who could help them? Looking around desperately, Dulcie saw her mother was safely tucked away by some railings and so she edged forward to see if there was anything she could do to help those near the opening of the shelter – but she couldn’t get close.

‘Dulcie! Come away out of there, you’ll get crushed!’

As Dulcie turned she saw Tilly throw down her motorcycle and run towards her. Never had she been so glad to see her friend, and the two young women briefly hugged. ‘What are you doing here?’ Dulcie gasped, aware that Tilly was in her uniform, and a very wet uniform it was too.

‘Can’t say,’ replied Tilly, managing a grin even though the horror. ‘What about you? Aren’t you meant to be taking it easy with your bump?’

‘Yes, but I was going to pick up our Edith from the tube and besides, I had this one chance to meet Mum for a cuppa,’ said Dulcie, pointing to the railings – but her mother was nowhere to be seen.

‘Oh, no.’ Dulcie felt as if the air had been sucked from her lungs. ‘She was there. She was over there. I thought she was safe. Tilly, she’s gone, she’s gone.’

‘Don’t panic, Dulcie, there’s no time,’ Tilly said, more calmly than she would have believed possible. ‘What’s she wearing? Try to remember. What’s she wearing?’

‘A red headscarf,’ said Dulcie. ‘It’s horrible. Doesn’t suit her at all. But you can’t miss it.’

How she burst through the crowd she would never know but with an almost superhuman surge of strength Tilly drove herself towards the railings and somehow caught a glimpse of a red scarf. Reaching out, at the absolute limit of her endurance, she grasped the woman’s arm and hauled her backwards out of the crowd and out towards the entrance of the shelter.