and I know where you work, so I’ll be in touch. Thank you so much, Mrs Dunn.’
‘It’s quite all right. It’s been a pleasure.’ Polly looked at
her and hesitated. She didn’t really believe that the other
woman would contact her again. It was just the way people
like her talked. But she really did seem very nice. ‘I hope
everything goes well with you and your husband,’ she said
with a rush. ‘I hope it isn’t too long before - well, you know, before he comes home again.’
The dazzling smile faltered a little and Polly caught a
glimpse of the fear that lay behind it. She’s as scared as the
rest of us, she thought. She knows he could die at sea, just
like my Johnny, just like Judy’s Sean, but she’s doing her
best to hide it; she’s doing her best to make things nice for
other people, even if all she can do is smile at them. I bet
everyone who’s met her today feels better for it.
‘It won’t be any time at all,’ the Captain’s wife said firmly.
‘And meanwhile, we can find plenty to do to keep ourselves
busy, can’t we?’ She cast a humorous glance at her little
brood, the twin girls standing on either side of her,
clutching her pearl-grey skirt, and the baby cradled in her
arms. ‘Even if it’s only wiping noses and changing nappies.
Speaking of which …’ She wrinkled her nose and laughed,
and Polly smiled back, then turned and hurried out.
It was time to go back to the Royal Beach and take on her
next assignment. Within half an hour the Captain’s wife
would be almost forgotten. But her smile, and the warmth
with which she bestowed it on all who came within her
orbit, would not be forgotten. They would remain in every
heart.
We can all do that, Polly thought. We can all do our bit,
just by putting a smile on our faces and helping each other.
That’s what Mr Churchill means when he says we’ll come
through. That’s what he means by the spirit of Britain.
Dick had, at last, passed the crisis of his illness. Cissie and Judy had gone to the Royal Hospital, dreading what they
might find, and had been overwhelmed with relief to see
him out of his tent and sleeping more peacefully than he had
done since the night of the asthma attack. Cissie, looking at
his white face, had broken down in tears and the nurse had
come to lead her to a chair and even brought them both a
cup of tea.
‘It’s been a hard time,’ she said sympathetically. ‘He was
seriously ill - Doctor was worried about him - but he’s
turned the corner now. He’ll still need a lot of nursing
before he’s back to strength again, mind.’
‘So long as he’s on the mend,’ Cissie said through her
tears. ‘Oh, I’m so thankful. We’ve got used to the asthma
attacks over the years, but this one was so bad, and then
when we found he’d got pneumonia as well…’.
‘Well, his chest condition makes him very vulnerable,’ the
nurse said. ‘And I dare say he’s been spending nights in an
Anderson, too; the damp and cold are bound to have an
effect. And then there’s all the worry of the raids.’
‘We were bombed out in January,’ Cissie said. ‘And he
was gassed in 1917 - and shell-shocked too. He’s not been a
well man since.’
‘You’ll have him home again soon,’ the nurse told her
cheerfully. ‘And let’s hope we don’t have any more raids like
that one. That was terrible.’
Judy stayed with her mother until she was sure Cissie was
fit to go home alone, then she made her way out to the Royal
Beach. She had sent a message via Polly to say she would be
late, knowing that the Mayoress would understand, but she
was anxious not to waste a minute. She arrived to find the
place in uproar.
‘We’ve lost an important document,’ Laura explained
breathlessly as Judy came into the main office. ‘It was
supposed to go to the top office and nobody can find it. You
don’t happen to know where it is, do you?’
‘Which one was it?’ Judy asked, and turned pale as Laura
told her. ‘Oh my goodness! I had it yesterday - I slipped it
into my drawer for safety. It must still be there.’ She ran to
her desk and pulled open the drawer. ‘Is - is this it?’
‘Yes!’ Laura snatched it away from her and raced over to
the Lady Mayoress, who was sitting at her desk searching
through a huge box file. ‘Here it is, madam. Judy had it all
the time.’
‘Judy did?’ The Lady Mayoress stared at her. ‘But what
on earth? Why? No, don’t bother to explain. Just take it up
to Mr Williams at once — you know where he is, don’t you — on the eighth floor. And then come straight to me when you get back.’ She shook her head as if in despair and Judy,
scarlet-faced, took the file back from Laura and scurried out
of the room.
She was almost in tears as she stepped into the lift. It was
the first serious mistake she had made, and she had never
seen the Mayoress look so annoyed. I didn’t know it was so
important, she thought as she waited for the door to close,
and I didn’t know I was going to be late this morning. Oh,
please don’t let her be really angry with me. Please don’t let
her say I’m no use to her and I’ve got to go back to my old
job. What if Miss Marsh doesn’t want me any more? What
if she says I’m no use either? Oh, why won’t this wretched
door close.
Judy hated the lift. It was small and creaky and you could
see the walls through the cage-like structure. When you
were inside it, moving slowly up or down, it was like being
in a long vertical tube with no windows. She always felt as if the sides were closing in on her and, if she could, used the
stairs. But now, with a document to be delivered urgently to
the eighth floor, she had no choice.
She wrenched at the iron door but nothing happened; she
was just about to step out and face the long climb up eight
flights of stairs when a cheery voice said, ‘Hey, don’t take it out on the door! What harm did it ever do you?’ and she
looked up and saw Chris Barrett, the fair-haired Observer,
grinning at her from the corridor.
‘It won’t shut, that’s what harm it’s doing!’ she retorted
savagely. ‘I’ve got to get an important file up to Mr
Williams and I’m going to have to climb up all those stairs,
and - and if you want to know the truth, I’ve just about had
enough!’ Then, to her fury, she burst into tears.
‘Hey.’ He came a little closer. ‘Hey, come on. Don’t cry.
It can’t be that bad. Let me have a go.’ He stepped into the
lift beside her, pressed the button and the door slid across
immediately. ‘There you are! Chocks away and ready for
take-off. You just need to press the button, that’s all, it
won’t know otherwise. Where d’you want to go? Floor
eight?’
‘Yes.’ Judy scowled at the buttons. ‘I did press it. It took
no notice.’
‘Well, it is a bit temperamental. It’s refused to start a
couple of times lately. I think they’re sending out a
maintenance crew from somewhere, but what with everything
else …’ He smiled down at her. ‘Your name’s Judy,
isn’t it? Judy Taylor?’
Judy admitted that it was. ‘And you’re Chris Barrett.
Someone in the office told me. I didn’t ask her,’ she added
quickly, just in case he might think she was interested in
him. ‘She just saw us talking and told me.’
The lift creaked slowly upwards. It might have been
quicker to walk anyway, Judy thought, and then she
wouldn’t have had to stand in this tiny space with this
cheeky airman. She stood gazing fixedly at the floor,
determined not to glance up and catch Chris Barrett’s eye.
She was sure he was staring at her. There was a silence.
‘So how are you getting on, up there on the roof?’ she
asked eventually, unable to stand it any longer. ‘I suppose
you’ve been pretty busy lately.’
‘Pretty well,’ he agreed. ‘There are planes about all the
time, even when there’s no raid. We have to spot our own as
well as theirs, you see. And we have to be able to recognise
them straight away. It’s not much good to HQ if you can’t
tell a Spit from a Messerschmitt.’
Judy nodded. They were passing the fourth floor now.
She could see the corridor through the iron gates, its carpet
taken up to leave bare boards, the doors that had once led to
luxurious bedrooms open to show glimpses of the offices
within. She wondered what sort of people used to come and
stay here. Entertainers who were appearing in the theatre at
the end of the long pier over the road, probably. People like
Joe Loss, Ambrose, Max Miller. It was funny to think that
she might be standing in a lift that had once carried a
famous comedian or band leader … She tried to imagine he
was here now, instead of this tall, fair-haired young
Observer and, just as she was drifting off into a dream of.
being recognised by a famous band leader and becoming a
singer like Anne Shelton or Vera Lynn, the lift gave a loud
creak and shuddered to a halt. They were between floors
and all they could see through the gates was the wall of the
lift-shaft.
Judy and the Observer stared at each other. A worm of
panic stirred deep in her stomach.
‘It’s stopped.’ She put out her hand and pressed the
button hard. ‘What’s happened? Why’s it stopped?’ The
worm twisted a little. She began to shake the gates.
‘Don’t do that. It might be dangerous.’ He gripped her
wrist and pulled back her arm sharply. ‘I’m not surprised.
This thing’s been on its last legs for years.’
‘But what shall we do?’ Her voice was rising. ‘I’ve got an
important document to deliver. I was late in this morning
anyway. The Mayoress will be furious!’
‘No, she won’t. It’s not your fault the lift’s broken down.
Don’t get in a flap, Judy.’ He laid his hand on her arm
again, more gently this time. ‘Look, there’s nothing we can
do. Someone will notice pretty soon and they’ll send for that
maintenance crew I was talking about. They’ll get us out.’
‘And what are we supposed to do in the meantime?’ Judy
demanded, her voice shaking. ‘Tell each other stories? Sing
songs?’
‘Well, we could do worse.’ He grinned. ‘Come on, Judy,
it’s not the end of the world. A lot worse things than this
have happened.’
Judy flung him a look of fear. ‘I know. It’s just that I - I
hate being shut in tiny spaces. I’ve never liked using this lift -I always use the stairs if I can. And - and so many awful
things have happened, and this is the last straw. I know it’s a small thing really, but that’s what straws are, aren’t they?’
She covered her face with her hands. ‘I was late in this
morning because I went to the Royal Hospital to see my
dad. He’s had pneumonia. He’s getting better now but we — we thought he was going to die.’ Her voice shook and she began to cry.
There was a moment’s pause and then Chris put his arm
across her shoulder. ‘Hey, hey, come on. He’s getting better. That’s what you’ve got to think of. He’s not going to die.
And you’re not going to have to spend the rest of your life
stuck in this lift with me.’ He peered upwards through the
gates, trying to see to the next floor. ‘At least, I hope not!’
Judy looked around. The walls of the shaft could be seen
on each side. They were roughly built, not finished with
plaster, and were dingy and draped with cobwebs. She
shuddered.
‘It’s horrible. Nobody ever cleans these walls. I feel as if
I’m shut in a zoo, or going down a mine.’
‘It’s just the lift-shaft,’ he said soothingly. ‘I expect they used to clean it when it was a hotel but we don’t have time
for those things now. Tell you what, soon as we get out of
here I’ll fetch a bucket and mop and clean the whole thing
myself, from top to bottom. How’s that?’ He grinned at her.
Judy looked at his open, friendly face, his twinkling eyes
and smiling mouth, and drew in a deep breath. I’m being an
idiot, she thought. Letting it all get on top of me. He’s right — it’s just a lift-shaft and soon someone will come and get us out. There’s nothing to be frightened of. She repeated the
words firmly in her mind. There’s nothing to be frightened of. And the thought of Chris with a bucket and mop, cleaning the entire eight floors of it, brought an unexpected bubble of
laughter to her lips.
‘Sorry, it just sort of came over me for a minute.’ She
managed a smile and felt a little better. ‘Well, you wanted a
date. Looks like you’ve got your way!’
‘So it does.’ He grinned. ‘Though I had thought of taking
you somewhere a bit more glamorous than this - a British
Restaurant, perhaps!’
‘Or a WVS Emergency Centre,’ Judy said, and he
laughed. He had a nice laugh, she thought, his blue eyes
crinkling at the corners and his smile widening to show very
white teeth. Polly’s right, she thought, he is good-looking. It was easy to imagine other girls finding him attractive.
‘We might as well sit down, I suppose,’ he said, indicating
the dusty floor. ‘Sorry I can’t offer you anything more
comfortable. But if we’re going to be here a while…’