All My Tomorrows (44 page)

‘John Hicks obviously knows more than he’s letting on,’ she told Peggy and Cordelia. ‘He’s called us all in for an extra shift today, and I have to go back on duty at six, so I’ll have this cuppa and get some shut-eye.’

The atmosphere had become charged as they went about their usual daily chores, for the skies above Cliffehaven were suddenly too quiet and they were all tense, waiting for something to happen. Ruby took the shopping list and joined the long queues, but the tension was tangible, the speculation rife, for no one really knew anything, and that only made it worse.

Having quickly gone to tell Lucy that the party was cancelled, Ruby returned to Beach View with the shopping and eyed the Anderson shelter with some misgivings. She had lived through the rivers of fire that had been the London Blitz and couldn’t imagine how anything could be more terrifying. But if Gerry was planning a big raid, she’d have preferred to shelter in the London Underground than under that flimsy bit of rusting corrugated iron.

The day dragged on and they ate their tea almost in silence as they listened to the early news in the hope that there might be a clue as to what was about to happen – but, as usual, they were disappointed.

Suzy telephoned at eight o’clock to say she and Fran had been ordered to be on standby at the hospital, and this only served to increase the tension. Having decided it would be wise to take Ron’s advice and spend the night in the shelter, they reluctantly began to get organised.

The range fire was dampened down, buckets of water were filled in case they were needed and the blackout curtains were pulled. Ruby helped Peggy by running about collecting Daisy’s clean nappies and making up bottles of formula milk, while Jane and Sarah got Cordelia into her overcoat and gathered up her precious bits of silver and important documents and stuffed them in her capacious knitting bag.

Laden with blankets, overcoats, gas-mask boxes and pillows, Jane and Ruby followed the others down the cellar steps and into the garden. It was twilight now and all was still – too still – as if the town was holding its breath, poised for whatever might come with the night.

As Sarah and Jane settled Cordelia into the deckchair that was jammed in one corner of the Anderson shelter and surrounded her with pillows, Ruby tucked the provisions box under the bench and placed the candles and matches on the back shelf, so they could be easily reached when needed.

Peggy tucked Daisy into her special gas-mask cradle and then set about lighting the primus stove and making tea. ‘As the sirens haven’t gone yet, we can leave the door open,’ she said. ‘It’s quite a warm night, and this place gets claustrophobic.’

‘I’ve got an even better idea,’ said Jane. ‘Why don’t I fetch the other deckchairs so we can sit outside until the sirens go?’

At Peggy’s nod, Ruby went with Jane to the shed and brought back the chairs, setting them out close to the shelter so they could still carry on chatting to Cordelia, who’d opted to stay inside. With rugs over their knees and a freshly made mug of tea in their hands, it was almost like being on holiday.

‘We must look proper daft,’ giggled Ruby, ‘but anything’s better than sitting in there all night.’

Peggy smiled at her. ‘It’s not so bad,’ she replied. ‘You get used to it.’

Ruby hoped she’d never have to, but at least the smell of damp and mouse droppings was slightly more pleasant than that of human waste, prevalent in the Underground stations.

They spoke in murmurs as the time ticked away, awed by the night sky and the silence that settled around them.

Ruby eased back into her deckchair and marvelled at how coldly bright the stars were, and how close they appeared to be. The full moon had a halo around it as it slowly rose above the rooftops, and she watched the great golden globe in awe. The London skies before the war were never like this, for the stars were dimmed by the thousands of lights pouring from every street and window, and were veiled by the smoking chimney pots and thick smog.

‘Has Cordelia talked to you about the bungalow she’s inherited?’ Peggy asked Sarah some time later when it was clear Cordelia was fast asleep.

Sarah nodded. ‘It was very sweet of her to offer it, but we’d rather stay here if it’s not too much trouble.’

‘Of course it’s no bother,’ said Peggy. ‘You can stay as long as you want, you know that. I just thought you and Jane might like to set up on your own, rather than be cooped up here with all of us.’

‘We love it here,’ said Jane, ‘and we’re used to sharing.’

‘We were a bit worried that Aunt Cordelia might be upset by us turning her down, but she didn’t seem to mind too much. In fact she seemed quite open to the idea of renting it out for the duration if she can find someone she can trust to look after it.’

‘I’m sure we’ll sort something out between us – but what about after the war, Sarah? Will you stay in England?’

‘We’ll probably go to Australia to be with our mother and grandparents, and get to know our new little brother while we wait for news of Pops and Philip.’

‘So you still haven’t heard anything?’

‘Nothing tangible, and if one started believing all the horror stories, then all hope would be gone.’ Sarah shot Peggy a brave little smile. ‘If Mother can stay positive like she does in her letters, then so must we.’

Ruby felt a great deal of admiration for Sarah and her sister, for they were always cheerful and optimistic. It was bad enough being separated from her own mother, but at least she wasn’t on the other side of the world – and to have the added worry over their father and Sarah’s fiancé must be torture.

Peggy was the first to go back into the shelter. After checking on Daisy and tucking the blankets more firmly around the sleeping Cordelia, she curled up on the bench and was asleep within minutes.

‘I think I’d rather sleep out here,’ said Ruby through a vast yawn. ‘It’s got to be more comfortable than that hard bench.’

‘We’ll get awfully cold if there’s a heavy dew,’ said Jane, ‘but I agree, this is much more fun.’

The three girls settled down, snug beneath their blankets as their eyelids drooped and sleep beckoned. It was eleven o’clock now, and it looked as if nothing much was going to happen after all, for the sirens remained silent and tranquillity lay softly across the sleeping town.

Ruby was on the cusp of sleep when she thought she heard a distant roll of thunder. She reluctantly forced her eyes open and wondered at first why she seemed to be in the garden and not in her lovely comfortable bed. Then she became aware of the deep growl of menace that seemed to be coming from beyond the hills, and was instantly awake.

‘What was that?’ asked a drowsy Jane.

‘I think we’re in for a nasty thunderstorm,’ replied Sarah as she gathered up her blanket. ‘We’d better get into the shelter before the rain comes.’

‘Wait,’ said Ruby, her head turned towards the sound, which seemed to be growing stronger and was now all too familiar. ‘That’s not thunder.’

Peggy had heard it too and she gathered up a squalling Daisy and held her close, the shadows of unspoken fear clouding her eyes as she came outside to join them. ‘Is it a raid? I didn’t hear the sirens.’

‘It’s coming from the north,’ murmured Sarah, ‘and if I’m not very much mistaken, it sounds like a huge squadron of bombers.’

‘Enemy bombers?’ gasped Peggy. ‘But why haven’t the sirens gone?’

They had no answer for her, and despite the threat, they seemed unable to move as they looked to the skies. The thunder was louder now, rolling across the hills and creeping over roofs and down the narrow streets and alleyways. The sound grew and swelled, drawing a confused Cordelia from her sleep.

‘What’s happening? Why are you all out here if there’s a raid on?’ she quavered as she fiddled with her hearing aid and then leaned on her walking stick.

‘It can’t be a raid,’ shouted Peggy above the noise. ‘The sirens haven’t gone.’

They stood in the garden, as if in a trance, as ominous dark shapes appeared over the hills to the north and spread across the peaks, blocking out the moon and the twinkling stars. Ever nearer they came, the deep-bellied roar of the bombers’ engines shattering the silence.

Now Ruby could see the individual planes – could identify the Wellingtons from the new Lancasters, and the Halifaxes, Manchesters, Hampdens and Whiteleys. The deep rumble vibrated in the ground beneath her feet and throbbed in the walls and roofs of the surrounding houses. They came in wave after wave, filling her head with their heavy drone, too numerous to count as they headed towards the Channel.

It was an awesome sight – a magnificent, heart-swelling display that brought tears to her eyes and great pride to her soul – and before she knew it, she had joined in with the others and was shouting encouragement and waving furiously.

And still they came, escorted now by the Blenheims and Havocs of Fighter Command who would attack the enemy night-fighter airfields along the bombers’ route.

Ruby’s ears were ringing with the sound, her heart thudding with excitement and a deep sense of national fervour as she ran out of the garden, down the alley and into the main road. From here she could see yet another phalanx of bombers coming from the west, their lights mere pinpricks in the darkness as they too headed across the Channel.

Transfixed, she watched until they had become a dark shadow on the horizon. The silence they had left behind was deafening, and it hummed in her head as she tried to absorb all she’d just witnessed and come to terms with her overwhelming emotions.

Her trance was broken by the sound of cheering and applause, and she suddenly realised she was not alone, for the others had joined her and now the streets were crammed with the townsfolk of Cliffehaven, who had come out to celebrate the mighty show of strength from England’s Bomber Command that would surely bring this war to an end.

‘That’ll teach Gerry to bomb our cathedral cities,’ said Cordelia, who was quite pink with excitement. ‘Perhaps now they’ll realise we won’t be beaten, and give up on this beastly war.’

Ruby wondered if that hadn’t been Churchill’s plan all along, for the show of strength in the skies above Germany, and the number of bombs that would be dropped that night, would surely have the enemy cowering and on the run.

They all finally went back to the house, still awed by what they’d seen and heard, and far too awake to go upstairs to bed. More tea was made, the biscuit tin raided and Daisy settled once more in her pram. Then they sat and talked, and at just after three in the morning, they heard the bombers returning from their mission, their vast numbers rumbling over the houses and making the windows rattle. The raid was over, and their brave boys had come home.

Chapter Twenty-Three

SUNDAYS DIDN’T COUNT
when there was a war on, for the factories never closed and the machines were never silent. Ruby dragged herself out of bed at five-thirty, still bleary after only two hours’ sleep. Her shift began at six, and after a cup of tea and a piece of toast, she left Beach View and tramped slowly but determinedly up the steep hill to the factory complex.

‘You look as bad as I feel,’ said Lucy through a vast yawn. ‘But my goodness, what a show the RAF put on last night.’

Ruby almost dislocated her jaw by yawning too, but the fresh air and the long hike up the hill had gone some way to waking her up. ‘We’ll have to work carefully today,’ she warned as they headed for the factory. ‘Those lathes are deadly and our concentration won’t be good this morning.’

‘But we need to reach our daily quota,’ protested Lucy as they clocked in.

‘We’ll catch up on it tomorrow. I don’t fancy losing a finger like that girl the other day.’

She and Lucy worked side-by-side, the pounding and whining of the machines and the stench of hot oil and metal doing nothing to improve their muzzy heads. When the klaxon went at lunchtime, they gratefully stepped outside into the clean, cool air and then headed for the canteen, where all the talk was still about the massive RAF raid.

‘It’s a shame we couldn’t go to the party,’ said Lucy, ‘but actually, I think we had a much better time watching those planes. I wonder what their mission was, and who got bombed.’

Ruby rubbed her eyes. ‘I expect we’ll hear all about it on the news tonight, but I doubt I’ll be able to stay awake long enough to listen to it. I’m dead on me feet after only two hours’ kip.’

They wandered back outside after they’d finished eating and tried to sharpen their wits before they had to go back to their lathes. For the rest of their shift, they continued to work slowly and carefully, fully aware that there had been several accidents this morning, and any carelessness could cost them dearly.

It was now three in the afternoon and their shift was finally over. Ruby slung the strap of her gas-mask box over her shoulder and took a deep breath of the clean, salty air. ‘How’s about we go for a bit of a walk by the sea, Lucy? I still need to clear me ’ead.’

‘Yes, let’s, and then we could go home and have a cuppa in the garden. It’s such a lovely day, and Mother will be out playing bridge, and our two evacuees will be working at the clothing factory, so we’ll have the place to ourselves.’

They linked arms and strolled down the hill. Just as they reached the humpback bridge, a train pulled in and they were shrouded in a great cloud of smoke. Laughing and spluttering, they began to run, their heavy boots pounding on the High Street pavement as they raced each other to the seafront.

Stan had seen the girls on the bridge, and had watched them with an indulgent smile as they’d raced down the hill. It was good to know that little Ruby had made such a nice friend – she wouldn’t go wrong with Lucy, who was well brought up and as straight as a die.

Which was more than he could say for some, he thought sourly, as the peroxide blonde in the tight slacks sauntered past. That one had the glad eye for anything in trousers, and she’d even had the nerve to wink at him once.

He reached for his cap and shut the door to the makeshift ticket office, then went to see if there were any passengers getting off at Cliffehaven. A flashily dressed youngish man he didn’t recognise got off the train before it had come to an absolute stop, thrust the ticket at him and, after quickly glancing over his shoulder, strode off.