Under the Apple Tree (27 page)

with a roar that she thought would never stop. A great cloud

of thick, “choking dust rose into the air and she buried her

face in her sleeve, trying not to breathe in too deeply, the

foul, gritty powder coating her tongue and teeth and making

her gag and retch to get rid of it. I can’t stand this, she

thought, I can’t stand it any more. Make it go away. Make it

go away.

Someone pulled her sleeve and she lifted her face away

cautiously and saw the young doctor mouthing something at

her. Panic gripped her as she realised that she could hear

nothing. She tried to yell back, but even inside her head her

words sounded distorted and meaningless. She shook her

head, terrified, but there was nothing but a strange, roaring

silence.

She looked around. Dust was swirling around the narrow

space and even the crimson light of the flames outside could

only just penetrate the darkness. With another leap of fear,

she wondered if the buildings here had caught fire, but

could see no fresh flames. It could surely be no more than a

matter of time, though. All this wood and plaster needed

only a spark to set it off, and even as the thought entered her head she saw a gobbet of flame drift past high above. We’ve

got to get out of here, she thought, and turned to see if the

entrance had been blocked.

Polly! For a few seconds, she had forgotten her aunt and

the old woman and her son, still trapped in the collapsed

building. She whirled back, to find her arm grasped again by

the doctor.

Judy shook her off angrily, and tried to shout again, but

her voice seemed to have no power. I can’t even hear myself,

she thought in despair, but there was no time to think about

that now. She jabbed her finger urgently at the fallen

masonry and made her mouth shape the words, ‘My aunt my

aunt —’ Whether the other woman understood, she

didn’t know, but she evidently remembered that they had

come here to help someone who was trapped, and nodded

quickly before turning herself to follow Judy’s pointing

finger.

The two men were getting to their feet as well, shaking

their heads and rubbing their ears. We’ve all gone deaf, she

thought, and grabbed their arms to drag them in the

direction of the fallen house. Even now there were still

bricks and slates and slabs of mortar tumbling down from

the splintered edges of the roof that was still left, hanging

drunkenly from the adjoining buildings. It only wants one of

them falling on your head to kill you, Judy thought, but she

couldn’t give up now. Polly was in there somewhere, and if

she left her she would never forgive herself.

Together, the four of them went cautiously forwards,

each keeping an eye on the wreckage above. To her

amazement, Judy saw that even though almost the entire

front of the building had fallen, the doorway itself was still

standing. The architrave must have been especially strong perhaps old oak from an ancient sailing ship, strengthened

from years of immersion in salt water. Tentatively, she

pushed at the splintered door and it swung open a foot or

so, then stopped, blocked by rubble. Judy began to wriggle

through the narrow space.

A touch on her arm made her turn. The doctor was

shaking her head, obviously warning her of the danger, but

Judy shook her own head in reply. ‘I’m going in there,

whatever happens. She eased herself very carefully round the

edge of the door and picked her way over a pile of bricks.

It hadn’t been far to the room where the old woman had

lain, but it was now almost pitch dark in there, with only the

faintest red glow from the flame-lit sky. Judy tried to

remember which way she had gone, and moved very slowly,

feeling her way. If only she had a torch …

As if in answer to a prayer, a thin beam of light flickered

in one corner and her heart jumped. Polly had had a torch!

Was she still there, still miraculously alive, perhaps calling

out unheard by her deafened rescuers, shining the torch to

show them the way? Judy tried again to shout, without any

idea as to whether her voice could be heard. Behind her, she

was aware of someone following, one of the men or perhaps

the doctor. The light had disappeared, but she pointed and

felt, rather than saw, the nod of the head, then groped for

her companion’s arm. The warmth and solidity reassured

her, and they went on side by side, taking slow, careful steps

and scrabbling with their hands at the mounds of bricks and

plaster.

Something soft met Judy’s questing fingers. She froze,

half afraid of what it might be, then moved her hands

cautiously, feeling the softness of fabric coated with gritty

dust. It was a garment of some kind, but was it something

that had been taken off and flung down, or was it still

wrapped around a body? A body, she thought in panic, and

almost tore her hands away. At the same moment, the fabric

shifted under her hands and the light shone again.

‘Polly!’ The name was a thought rather than a cry, but

Judy hardly cared now whether she was deaf or not, for

there at her feet, half-buried in rubble, lay her aunt, her

small torch gripped in one hand and shining towards her

grime-coated face. There was blood on her forehead and in

her hair, but her eyes were open, and as Judy bent towards

her a faint smile curved her lips.

Judy almost fell on her, half laughing, half crying. Beside

her, the doctor bent swiftly to press her fingers against

Polly’s neck and then looked up at Judy and indicated the

rubble. Her mouth moved and Judy read the silent message: ‘She’s alive! We’ve got to get this off her.’

Judy began to pull away bricks and slivers of wood. To

her immense relief they were all small, or at least within her

ability to lift, but she was so thankful to find Polly alive that she felt she could have moved a mountain to get her out. By

now, the two men were also in the small space, and together

they worked feverishly to free the trapped woman. Oh, let

her be all right, Judy prayed. Let her not be hurt too badly.

It was uncanny, working in the silence, uncannier still to

know that the air must be filled with sound, with the

cacophony of aircraft overhead, the roar of exploding

bombs, the rattle of ack-ack guns. The raid was still going

on - at any moment they might all be blasted to oblivion or

burned to death in a firestorm - yet the most important

thing in the world now was to get Polly out of her prison, to

bring her out alive.

They had shifted all the small stuff now and by the

flickering light of Polly’s torch, Judy saw with dismay that

there was a large beam of wood across her body. Oh God, if

she’s been crushed … she thought in horror, but almost

before the thought had formed in her mind she saw that it

was balanced on two other lumps of broken masonry, and

didn’t touch Polly at all. In fact, it had probably saved her

life, making a cage around her over which the rubble had

fallen, while inside she was barely scratched.

As soon as she was able, Polly began to struggle out from

underneath the beam. She was filthy and bedraggled, one

leg was dragging and there was still blood trickling down

her face, but her eyes were bright and she hugged Judy

fervently. Her mouth moved in some question, but Judy

shook her head and pointed to her ears. ‘I can’t hear,’ she

mouthed. And then, hoping that Polly could hear her, What

about the others? The man and his mother?’

Either Polly heard her or read her lips, for she glanced

round the devastated room and shook her head slightly, the

movement obviously paining her. The others had already

begun to try to dig through the rubble and the two women

joined them, but it was clear that there was little chance of

finding any other survivors. Eventually, one of the men

straightened up and wiped his forehead. ‘We can’t move any

more. We’ll have to get help. It’s all big stuff, too heavy … I don’t reckon there’s anyone alive in here now anyway.’

Reluctantly, they turned and battled their way out

through the cluttered courtyard. Outside, the raid was still

going on, although it seemed to have lessened. We must

have shot down some of their planes, surely, Judy thought,

and rubbed her ears, suddenly afraid that she was never

going to be able to hear again. I’m deaf, she thought in

panic.

The young doctor saw the gesture and looked at her in

concern. ‘Are you still deafened? she mouthed, and Judy

nodded. The doctor glanced at Polly, parted her hair gently

with her fingers to look at the wound in her head, and bent

to give her dragging leg a swift examination. Then she

straightened up and looked around.

The street was still full of people trying to fight the fires

that had broken out. Soldiers, sailors and civilians alike were rushing to and fro with stirrup pumps, buckets, anything

that could hold a few drops of water. At least the mains

didn’t seem to have been fractured this time. Judy moved to

go and help, but the doctor gripped her arm.

‘Hospital,’ she mouthed. ‘You both need to go to hospital.

We need an ambulance.’ She glanced around again and then

pointed to a vehicle which had apparently been abandoned

at the side of the road, and a sob of hysteria rose in Judy’s

throat as she recognised their own old van.

One of the men who had helped her came forwards and

spoke in the doctor’s ear. She nodded briskly. ‘This man will

take you.’ She helped Polly, who was beginning to sway,

into the back of the van. Judy, more anxious for her aunt

than for herself, followed, and they crouched together on

the makeshift bunk fitted inside.

The journey seemed to take hours. Swaying, jerking and

bumping through the bombed streets, they had no idea

where they were going. Polly was looking dazed and sick,

and Judy was unable to communicate with the driver.

Exhaustion overtook her, her ears hurt almost unbearably,

and she sagged against the cold metal walls of the van. She

was unaware of their arrival at the Royal Hospital and the

devastation that caused them to be turned away and sent to

St James’s, and when they finally stumbled out of the van

she had no idea where they were.

Once in the foyer, she and Polly stood leaning against one

another, almost too bewildered and exhausted to care what

happened to them now. The place was in chaos, crowded

with nurses, doctors and injured people. Stretchers and

trolleys cluttered every space. Judy and Polly found

themselves being hustled into a corner where a harassed young nurse began to question them.

‘I can’t hear.’ Judy pointed to her ears and then held her

hands over them to show that they were painful. The nurse

turned at once to Polly and evidently asked about her

injuries. Polly pointed to her head and then her leg, and the

nurse pushed her gently on to a bed and began to examine

her.

Judy watched anxiously. The head wound seemed-to have

stopped bleeding and was soon washed and bandaged. The

leg seemed to be no worse than a superficial cut on the skin,

but it was unpleasantly jagged and might have got germs in

it. Having attended to these, the nurse turned her attention

to Judy, but all Judy could do was mouth at her, ‘I’m not

hurt. It’s just my ears - the blast - I’ve gone deaf.’ Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head angrily, furious with

herself, but once started they could not be stopped and she

crumpled, her hands to her face, her shoulders shaking. I’ve

gone deaf. I’ve gone deaf. I’m never going to be able to hear

anything again …

‘Thank God I’ve found you.’ Cissie collapsed on to a

wooden chair beside Polly’s bed and stared at her sister.

‘Oh, thank God. I thought you and our Judy were both …’

She couldn’t say the word. Tears brimmed out of her eyes

and she wiped them away and sniffed, her mouth both

smiling and trembling.

‘I don’t know why they’re keeping me in here,’ Polly said

grumpily. She was sitting up in bed, swathed in a huge

white gown. ‘I’m all right, it’s just a bit of a cut on my leg

and a graze on the head. But they want to keep an eye on me

in case of concussion, the doctor said. I’m coming out

tomorrow though, thank goodness.’ She glanced around the

overcrowded ward. ‘They’re doing their best, I know, but

it’s horrible in here.’ She looked at her sister. ‘Have you

seen Judy yet?’

Cissie nodded. ‘She’s in a poor way. Oh, not hurt as such,

but it’s her ears; she can’t hear a thing and she thinks she’s

gone deaf permanent. She’s really cut up about it. I had a

word with the Sister and she says they’ll keep her in for a

day or two to make sure there’s no other damage, but she

thinks the hearing’ll come back pretty soon. She says it’s a

common effect of the blast. They get any amount of people