Darkest Before Dawn (28 page)

They decided to move at dusk on the third day and discovered for themselves the sheer awfulness of being completely exposed to enemy fire. Useless to duck or dodge when the bullets rained down, you just had to pray that this one did not have your name on it. But the queue of men moved steadily forward until Toby's ankles, then his knees, and then his waist were in the water. His battledress was ripped and filthy and he saw men around him shedding theirs since it was possible that they might have to swim to reach the rescue craft. As the sky gradually lightened the Luftwaffe returned, and behind him Boysie said bitterly: ‘Where's the Brylcreem boys then? We've been here days and norra sign of them.'

By now, they were up to their chests in water. A small man with red hair scowled at Boysie. ‘My brother's in the air force, flying one of the old Stringbags,' he said aggressively, in a strong Scottish accent. ‘He'll be up there somewhere. The trouble is we've not got the numbers, else our fellers wouldnae sit back and see us taking it like this.'

‘Sorry, mate,' Boysie said apologetically. But Toby realised his friend was speaking to empty air; the redheaded soldier had disappeared. Hastily, he took a deep breath and ducked under the surface. The small soldier had stepped into one of the many underwater shell holes and might have drowned had Toby and Boysie not heaved him out and supported him between them. The little Scot, coughing and gasping, and spouting water like a whale, thanked them hoarsely, and whilst they were still supporting him a boat drew alongside them and a peremptory voice ordered: ‘Chuck him aboard and get yourselves aboard too. It's dangerous work coming in close to the shore; the sooner we're off again, the sooner we can be back to pick up more of your mates.'

Toby tumbled on to the bottom boards and simply lay there, suddenly realising that he was too tired even to worry about the hail of bullets or the concussion of bombs. He had not eaten for three days and had been awake day and night. He was filthy, soaking and defeated. Now, he slept.

Evie had gone to the Pier Head but had immediately realised she had no chance of sneaking aboard a vessel so had made for Lime Street station. She saw a train come in, saw the soldiers streaming off it, and knew why the grown-up ladies handing out hot tea and sandwiches wept. Every man was filthy, worn out and dressed in a uniform which was little better than rags. Many were no more than boys, many were wounded, and all had despair written large on their pale countenances. She saw young men she had known and scarcely recognised them, but she did not see Toby.

‘But this is only the first batch,' she heard one WVS say to another. ‘From what I've heard, they'll be coming for days yet. Don't worry, Esther, your Jack will be here. Why, the British army can't afford to lose fellers like Jack. But it may be a day or two, possibly more, before he arrives. You can't stay on the station all that time, but I'm sure you could share the task of waiting for him with some other member of the family if you think it's important for him to be greeted by someone he knows.'

‘I think it's very important, judging by the state of most of the fellers we've seen,' the other woman said seriously. ‘I don't see why I shouldn't stay myself . . . I can snooze in the corner of the refreshment room, between trains.'

Evie thought about Toby. She knew he was fond of his large family, knew they were fond of him, but Toby had always been a bit of a loner, escaping from the crowded, tumbledown cottage whenever he could, spending more time with the Todds than he had with them. Now, the thought of him returning to England to find no one waiting on the platform was horrible to her. Seraphina had spurned him, made it plain she preferred Roger, and though Evie was sure that this was just a phase her sister was going through, she still hated to think of Toby's disappointment if he should find no one waiting.

Evie had always been resourceful. She borrowed a piece of paper and a pencil from a passing porter, wrote a note to her mother explaining that she meant to stay on the station to welcome Toby and would bring him back to the flat when he appeared, and then gave it to a very small dirty boy, telling him to deliver it to Wilmslow's on the Scotland Road where her mam would reward him with a few coppers or possibly – eyeing his skinny frame – a sandwich or a buttered scone. The child's eyes brightened at the mention of food and he snatched the note and made off. Evie settled down to wait.

It was three days and two nights before her vigil was rewarded. In that time, both her mother and sisters had visited the station, stayed there for as long as they could, and then left. Of course, they had urged her to return home with them, but by this time Evie was very much the pet of both the station staff and the WVS ladies. She had her own corner in the Ladies' Waiting Room, her own blanket and a cushion someone had found up, and reliable friends who made sure she was woken whenever a train came in. Everyone thought her devotion to duty touching; most thought it was a brother for whom she waited, but they were all happy to have her with them, handing out sandwiches, cakes and cups of tea, laughing and joking with the exhausted and filthy troops, whilst her eyes scanned every weary, stubbly face in a vain search for her old friend.

She had almost stopped believing that he would ever appear when, in the late afternoon of the third day, an arm went round her shoulders and a bristly cheek was pressed to hers. ‘If it isn't little Evie Todd,' said Toby's voice. ‘What the devil are you doing here, luv? And does your mam know you're out?'

Evie dropped her basket, flung both arms round Toby's neck and burst into tears. ‘Oh, Toby, Toby, I'm so glad you're alive,' she sobbed. ‘I wanted to help, of course I did, but I wanted to find you most of all. I meant to try to get aboard one of the ships so I could help to bring you fellers off, but they wouldn't let me, so I've waited here instead. Mam and the girls say I'm to take you back to the flat. Then you can have a proper meal and a good night's sleep before going on to Micklethwaite.'

‘But how the devil did you know I'd come here first?' Toby asked, wonderingly. ‘I didn't even know myself until we were being marshalled on to the train.'

‘Seraphina said that everyone was going to be sent back to where they first joined up. I – I didn't think she were thinking of you, exactly, but I remembered you'd told us, right after you joined, that you'd been sent to Liverpool to sign up. So I just knew you'd be coming back here.'

Toby put a weary arm round her shoulders and rumpled her hair. ‘And when they told us we were headed for Liverpool, there was me thinking it seemed as though fate wanted me to come to Seraphina's home town, even though I knew she had . . . other interests.' He sighed, then gave Evie a brief hug. ‘Oh, well – it doesn't really matter. What matters is that I'm back and that you came down to meet me. Shall we go?'

‘Yes; we'll catch a tram and be home in no time,' Evie said. ‘Isn't it
awful
that we had to let France and Belgium and everybody down? But at least you've got home safely. Will you have to go on being a soldier? Well, I suppose you will, but I expect you'll stay in England, because everyone says the Germans are bound to try to invade us, so we'll need heaps of soldiers to fight them off.'

‘They told us to go home and await further instructions,' Toby said gruffly.

‘Oh . . . hang on a moment, Toby. I've just spotted Mr Johnson – he's a member of the railway staff – and I ought to tell him I've found you, because he – and everyone else – has been ever so kind. I've even got my own seat in the corner of the Ladies' Waiting Room, where I've had a snooze when there have been no trains due.'

She broke away from him but Toby caught her arm. ‘Hang on a minute! Just how long have you been on this station, young lady?'

Evie twinkled at him. ‘Three days and two nights,' she admitted. ‘I've been handing out sandwiches and cups of tea, telling people which platform they needed for which train, cleaning the waiting rooms . . . oh, I've been doing my bit, honest I have, Toby.'

Toby grinned, then rubbed his hands across his tired, travel-stained face. ‘You're incredible, Evie Todd,' he said. ‘C'mon then, let's go and tell this Mr Johnson that you won't be around for a bit.'

The queue for the tram was a long one and tired though he was, Toby had done a good deal of sitting on the train, so when Evie suggested walking home he was glad to agree. As they strolled along the pavement, he looked sideways at his companion, thinking to himself that she was a grand kid, full of courage and good humour. It was a pity she was so plain, with her straight light brown hair, small twinkling eyes and mischievous monkey face. She would never be a beauty like her sisters. He remembered her father lamenting that Evie had taken after himself and not after his wife, as the two older girls had. But Toby thought that this was no bad thing; Harry was the finest man he had ever known and right now, to Toby's prejudiced eye, it seemed that Evie was going to be just like him. Kind, generous, always thinking of others, never considering himself, Harry had been head and shoulders above all the other barge masters. Evie was only a kid but she was shaping up to be just like her dad, not only in looks but in character too.

Then Toby thought of Martha, of the constant struggle she had shared with Harry whilst aboard the
Mary Jane
, and of the worse struggle she had had since his death. So to be like her was a pretty good way to be as well. But though Seraphina and Angie were like Martha in looks, he did not think that either of them had inherited her nature. He thought, bitterly, that Seraphina seemed to want a career and a rich husband more than anything else, and Angie was too meek and biddable; he could not imagine her standing up for herself or coping with a lively family and a difficult job.

‘Nearly there,' Evie said cheerfully. ‘The shop's closed which means Mam will be in the flat getting the tea; I can't wait to see her face when you walk in. And I reckon Seraphina will be home, too.'

Martha was at the stove, withdrawing a large meat and potato pie from the oven, when someone banged on the back door. Seraphina was sitting at the table finishing off some of her college work and did not even look up, and Martha thought, rather crossly, that examinations were all very well but even the most dedicated student could answer the door when she could see her mother was busy; had, in fact, got her hands all too full. But Seraphina wasn't a bad girl, only a bit thoughtless, Martha told herself. She said, crisply: ‘Door, Seraphina,' and her daughter immediately got to her feet. She would have gone to the door, but suddenly it was hurled open and Evie bounced into the room, dragging a tattered figure behind her. Martha stared, gasped and dropped the meat and potato pie on to the table. Then she was in Toby's arms, hardly knowing how she had got there, hugging him, tears running down her cheeks. The last time she had seen him had been just before he left for France. He had been cheerful, bronzed by the summer sun and by living an outdoor life, and he had looked smart in his uniform, his forage cap at a jaunty angle on his dark, close-cropped hair. Now, he looked terrible: his face was drawn and pale, his eyes were hopeless and his uniform hung in rags. Martha held him back from her, trying to brush off her tears until she saw that he, too, was weeping. But it would not do to notice, she realised that. Instead, she ushered him to the table and sat him down, sweeping Seraphina's books and papers aside as she did so.

Her eldest daughter came forward a trifle timidly. ‘I'm glad you're back, Toby,' she said, rather stiffly. ‘You must have been through a terrible time. Angie and I, and Ma, too, have been down at the station helping the WVS whenever we could, and we heard some dreadful stories. But I'll clear my stuff out of your way and go and make up the bed in the small room with clean sheets, so you can get your head down as soon as tea's over.'

She bustled out of the room before Toby could reply and Martha was just considering following her daughter and telling her to be a little more gracious when the back door opened again and Angie came into the room. She uttered a squawk of pleasure upon seeing Toby, who struggled to his feet just in time to give her a hug as she cast herself at him. Martha stared; this was meek, shy Angela! But then, Martha remembered, her daughters had known Toby most of their lives and probably considered him the brother they had never had.

‘Oh, Toby, it's wonderful that you're home and safe,' Angela was saying, gently pushing him back into the chair once more. ‘I can see you've had a horrible time . . . oh, your arm! I think, before you eat, you should be cleaned up a bit. Ma, where's the First Aid box?'

Martha crossed the kitchen and, without ceremony, unbuttoned Toby's ragged shirt. On his left arm, a cut ran from wrist to elbow, still sluggishly bleeding, and there were scratches, abrasions and bruises all over his torso. Martha winced, then glanced approvingly at her middle daughter. ‘Good girl, Angie; I'm ashamed to say I hadn't thought . . . didn't realise . . . but you're quite right. Evie, go and run the bath. Angie, go downstairs and borrow a pair of trousers and a shirt from Mr Wilmslow . . . and some shoes. Tell him he'll have them back within a few days. I'll just pop the pie back into the oven and fetch the First Aid box.' She smiled encouragingly at Toby. ‘Take your time in the bath, lad; my old dressing gown is hung on the back of the bathroom door so you can slip into that when you're clean, and I'll see to your wounds after we've had supper.'

Evie, returning from the bathroom to announce that the bath was ready, said curiously: ‘Did they shoot at you, Toby? Ugh, that cut on your arm is horrible.' She looked doubtfully at Martha. ‘Ought he to go to the Stanley, Mam? Only you can't have had much experience with bullet wounds.'