The Clippie Girls (11 page)

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Authors: Margaret Dickinson

Tags: #Fiction, #Sagas, #Historical, #Romance, #20th Century, #General

BOOK: The Clippie Girls
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‘Please leave the car if you can,’ Peggy shouted to her passengers. She couldn’t see if anyone was seriously hurt, but she was fearful there must be casualties. All around her she could hear moaning and women crying. Thank goodness there’d been no children aboard when the blast had happened. She couldn’t have borne having to lift a child out of the wreckage. She struggled forward, her eyes stinging, her breathing rasping, to find a woman collapsed on one of the seats. She tried to lift the woman, who was unconscious – or worse, Peggy thought, though she couldn’t tell – when the soldier scrambled to her side. ‘I’ll lift her, love. You take her legs.’

‘Oh my God,’ Peggy breathed. ‘They’re covered in blood. Ought we to move her?’

‘No, no, we’d better leave her there,’ the soldier said. ‘There’s bound to be help arriving very soon. They’ll know what’s best to do. My basic first aid isn’t up to dealing with summat like this.’

‘I’ll stay with her,’ Peggy said, as she glanced up into the dark brown eyes of the soldier, ‘if you could help get the rest of the passengers off the tram.’

He grinned at her, his eyes warm. A flick of dark hair flopped over his forehead, making him seem boyishly endearing. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, ‘but don’t go away, will you?’

Peggy felt her heart give a ridiculous leap. ‘Th – thanks.’

It seemed ages until two members of an ambulance crew were climbing into the wrecked tram, though in reality it was only a few minutes.

‘All right, miss, we’ll take over now. You get yourself out. Can you manage?’

‘I’ll help her,’ came the deep voice of the soldier from just behind her. ‘Come on, love, give me your hand.’

She felt his warm, strong grasp guide her through the broken glass and splintered wood until she was standing safely on the road. But still he did not let go of her hand. The street was in chaos. Fire-fighting crews had turned hoses onto the burning buildings and policemen were urging people to go to the nearest public shelters as quickly as possible. It was an eerie, frightening scene. Huge flames licked the dark sky, illuminating the faces of the men of the rescue services. And above the commotion they could still hear bombs falling.

‘Come on,’ the soldier said, putting his arm around her. ‘Let’s get you out of here.’ He put his face close to hers. ‘You look as if you’ve got a little cut on your forehead and there’s blood on your hand.’

Peggy looked down at her hands in a daze and then touched her forehead and felt the stickiness of her own blood. ‘I’m all right, I must see to my passengers – see if I can help anyone else before I . . .’ Suddenly, she was overcome by dizziness. She felt her legs begin to buckle beneath her, but his strong arms were supporting her and then suddenly she felt herself picked up and carried.

‘Make way,’ the soldier said. ‘Let me through.’ He set her down gently on the pavement, leaning her against a wall on the opposite side of the street to where the bombs had fallen.

‘I’m all right – honestly. I must . . .’

‘You sit there,’ he said firmly. ‘Your forehead’s cut. Flying glass, I expect. I’m going to get you a cup of tea. There’s a cafe just along here. It’s had its window blown in by the blast, but I’ve seen the owner bringing out cups of tea to the injured.’

‘But I’m not injured,’ Peggy insisted. ‘Not really. I must . . .’

‘Stay where you are at least until I get back with the tea. Promise?’ His tone was gentle, but masterful, and for once Peggy was grateful to have someone take charge. She nodded, then leant her head back against the wall and closed her eyes.

‘That’s better. The colour’s coming back into your face now. I thought you were going to pass out on me for a moment back there.’

Peggy smiled weakly. ‘So did I. I’m all right now, but I’ll do as you say if you’re sure everyone is being attended to.’ She ran her tongue round lips that tasted of brick dust. ‘I – could do with a cuppa.’

Rose emerged from the basement beneath the cinema and thought she’d stepped into Hell. Dark, birdlike shapes droned against the moonlit sky, bringing death and destruction to her city. White frost lay on the streets, shining like a beacon to the enemy. Rose took a deep breath and began to run towards the city centre. She knew that was where Peggy would be. Every now and again she had to stop. Bodies lay in the road, but they were beyond her help. All around her bombs crashed into buildings, reducing houses and shops to piles of rubble in seconds. Already fires from incendiary bombs raged, but there were no firemen available to try to quench them. Cannon shells bounced down the road, sparking flashes of white. A stick of incendiaries pattered in a line down the street, and a bigger bomb whistled, was silent for a second and then hit the ground with a resounding crunch. But on Rose ran, her heart pounding, her legs trembling. The roads were icy. Rose slipped and slithered, but she ran on and on. She had to find Peggy – and Bob.

As she neared the city centre, she saw that shops had had their windows blown out and items from the displays lay in the middle of the street: clothes, handbags, shoes, even jewellery. Rose faltered as she saw a figure lying in the road, an arm raised in the air. It didn’t move. She bit her lip, torn between the desire to help someone and her need to run on. With an inward sigh, she stepped over the rubble and scrambled towards the figure. As she bent over it, she realized it was a naked display dummy. She pressed her hand against her mouth. Hysterical laughter bubbled up inside her and then she sobbed with relief. Brushing the back of her hand impatiently across her eyes, she hurried on. Dust and debris and noise everywhere: she ran around a smouldering crater in the middle of the road. Ahead of her the centre of the city was on fire.

And then she passed an overturned tram lying on its side, its windows broken, the tram lines buckled and twisted. The sight spurred her on.

‘Oh Peg, Peg, where are you?’ she sobbed aloud, but deep in her heart were added the words, And Bob? Where are you?

On and on she ran, oblivious to the danger, her only thought to find her sister – and Bob.

It was just as the soldier was coming back along the street, picking his way carefully through the debris with two mugs of tea, that Peggy heard her name being called.

‘Peggy – Peggy, where are you?’

Hearing the familiar voice and despite her promise to the soldier, Peggy struggled to her feet. ‘Rose – Rose, I’m here.’

‘Oh, thank God.’ Rose scrambled her way to her sister and hugged her. ‘Are you all right?’

At that moment, the soldier reached them. ‘Good job I brought two cups – well, mugs. Here you are, miss. Drink this, you’ll feel better. And you take this one, love. You look as if you’ve had a shock, an’ all.’

Rose turned to look up into the soldier’s face smiling down at her.

‘This – this is my sister, Rose,’ Peggy said, sipping the hot tea gratefully.

‘Pleased to meet you, Rose, though I wish the circumstances were better. You all right?’

‘Yes, yes, I’m fine.’

‘What – what are you doing here? I thought you’d gone to the pictures.’

‘I had. But when the raid started and everyone was going down into the shelter, I came out – much to Alice’s disgust. She said I’d get killed, but I couldn’t bear to think of you caught up in all this.’

‘You should have stayed there.’ Peggy remonstrated with Rose, though in truth she was glad to see her.

‘I ran all the way here,’ Rose told her. ‘Bombs were falling all around.’

‘Your guardian angel must have been working overtime,’ Peggy said shakily.

Rose laughed as she put her arms around her sister and hugged her. ‘More like the Devil taking care of his own.’

There were more whistles and crashes as bombs fell in the next street. The soldier put himself in front of them, spreading out his arms to protect them as flames burst skywards and firemen, silhouetted against the night sky, fought a losing battle.

‘It’s a devil that’s unleashed this lot,’ the soldier muttered and then turned his attention back to Peggy. ‘You ought to get that cut on your forehead looked at.’

‘I’m fine now, honestly. Thank you so much for your help. You’ve been wonderful, but I must find my colleague. I don’t know where he is. I must have been knocked out for a moment and then I was so concerned about the passengers, I never thought to see what had happened to Bob.’

Catching her words, Rose spilled her tea as her hand trembled. Her eyes widened as she looked round wildly.

And there was no mistaking the panic in her voice. ‘Bob? Oh, Peggy, where is he? Where’s Bob?’

Thirteen

Rose set her mug on the ground and darted away, scanning the crowd that had now gathered around the disaster. No one seemed to care that the All Clear had not yet sounded. Folks were emerging from the nearest shelters and coming to try to help or just to gawp. The ambulance drew away with the first of the casualties and another took its place.

‘You really should go to hospital,’ the soldier, whose name Peggy still didn’t know, insisted. ‘Come on, let me help you.’

With his strong arms around her, Peggy allowed herself to be led towards one of the ambulance men, though she still protested, ‘I’m all right, really I am. I must find Bob.’

‘Your sister seems on a mission to do that,’ he said. ‘My name’s Terry by the way. Terry Price. And yours is Peggy?’

She nodded.

‘Now, lass, what’s the matter with you then?’ The ambulance man greeted her kindly. ‘Were you a clippie on one of t’ trams that was hit?’

Reminded by his words, the full realization of what had just happened hit her afresh and the man’s face began to swim before her eyes. But Terry still had hold of her. ‘I think she’s in shock.’

Together they took her to the back of the ambulance and got her on board. ‘Lie down, lass, you’ll feel better in a moment and I’ll have a look at that cut on your forehead. It’s a nasty one and there might still be splinters of glass in it.’

Peggy did as they bade her, but in a moment she was trying to sit up again. ‘Bob. I must find Bob,’ she murmured weakly and then fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes as nausea threatened to overwhelm her.

‘Who is this Bob she keeps on about?’ Terry asked.

‘It’ll likely be her motorman.’

‘The driver of the tram, you mean?’

‘Aye. Now, lad, if you’re nowt to do with this young lady might I ask you to step out of t’ vehicle so I can get on wi’ me job. Thanks for your help.’

With obvious reluctance, Terry got out of the back of the ambulance, but he could not bring himself to walk away. Instead he looked around for anyone else who needed assistance, but all the time he kept his eye on the girl lying on the stretcher in the ambulance. He didn’t want to let her out of his sight.

He was scrambling back into the wrecked tram when a voice hailed him. ‘And just where d’you think you’re going, soldier?’

Terry turned to see a policeman frowning at him.

‘To find my kitbag and my cap – if I can. I was a passenger on this tram when it was hit. I was lucky I wasn’t hurt and I’ve been trying to help those that were, but now everyone seems to be taken care of—’ Again he cast a look towards where Peggy was being attended to. He still didn’t know her second name or where she lived. He grinned at the constable. ‘I thought I’d better retrieve my kit, else my sergeant will have my guts for garters.’

‘I see – well, go carefully. I’ll just wait here and see you safely off again.’

Smiling, Terry turned away. I reckon he thinks I’m going to loot folks’ belongings, he thought. But nothing was further from the young soldier’s mind. All he wanted was to find his own so that he didn’t have to face the wrath of his sergeant.

Terry found his kitbag easily enough, but his cap was nowhere to be seen. He clambered back to the platform and jumped down. ‘Can’t find me cap, but at least I’ve got most of me stuff. Thanks, Officer. Anything else I can do to help?’

‘I don’t think so, lad.’ They were shouting at each other to make themselves heard above the noise; aircraft were still droning above them, dark, raptor-like shapes against the moonlit sky; flames spurted and crackled from the burning buildings, punctuated by the sudden crash of falling masonry. ‘Maybe it’d be best if you left now, raid’s not over yet.’ Still they could hear the sound of more bombs falling. ‘That’s if you’re sure you don’t need any medical treatment.’

‘Not a scratch,’ Terry said cheerfully.

The constable nodded towards the buckled tram. ‘Then you was lucky.’

Terry glanced behind him and took in the devastation of which he’d been a part. ‘I was,’ he agreed soberly. ‘D’you know if anyone was killed?’

‘I don’t yet, sir, no. But there are certainly one or two very seriously injured.’

Terry’s glance went back to the ambulance that was just beginning to move away. ‘D’you know where they’re taking the injured?’

‘To the Royal Infirmary, I expect, though I’ve heard there’s been a bomb in that area, so whether they’ll get through, I don’t know.’

‘Thanks.’ Terry moved away from the policeman and the tram, but he did not leave the area as the constable had suggested; he wanted to find Peggy’s sister. Now what was her name? And then he remembered. Rose, that was it. He wanted to know more about the clippie called Peggy and he wasn’t going anywhere until he did.

Rose had rushed away into the throng, dodging round people, searching desperately for Bob. It was dark, but the flickering light from the fires engulfing the buildings illuminated the scene. She glanced skywards briefly, searching for enemy planes; the blazing city was an open invitation for yet more destruction. She grasped the arm of a police constable. ‘Have you seen the motorman from this tram?’ She gestured towards the one she knew Bob had been driving.

‘Who?’

‘The tram driver? Have you seen him?’ She almost shook the man’s arm: he was being obtuse. Who else did he think she meant?

‘I don’t know him, miss.’

Exasperated, she snapped. ‘He’d be in uniform. Surely—’

The constable was gesturing around them. Several tram workers had arrived on the scene. ‘Take your pick, love.’

Her hand fell away as she muttered, ‘Sorry – it’s just—’

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