Where the Heart Lies (21 page)

A tall, thin man in a heavy tweed coat reached the bottom of the ladder, surveyed his surroundings, adjusted his tin hat and the big black bag he held, then began to crawl towards them. ‘Good morning, ladies,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Quite a cosy place you have here.’ He squatted beside them and held out his hand to Julie. ‘Michael Sayers,’ he said with a broad smile.

His handshake was as warm and firm as his father’s had been and it imbued her with courage and determination. ‘Julie Harris,’ she replied and smiled back. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Michael Sayers examined Anne’s leg as the other two men began to shore up the walls and ceiling of their prison. He asked Anne how she was feeling and listened attentively as Julie gave a quick résumé of the birth.

‘Your baby is doing very well,’ he reassured Anne. ‘She’s in the special baby unit for now, but I expect her to make a full recovery. Now, I’m going to give you an injection so that these nice men can move that horrid old beam off your leg without it hurting too much.’

He swiftly filled a syringe and injected Anne’s thigh. Once he was satisfied that the local anaesthetic had taken effect, he turned back to Julie. ‘I’ll need you to be quick off the mark once they move that beam,’ he said quietly, his dark eyes regarding her solemnly. ‘We’ll need to tourniquet that leg, or she’ll bleed to death.’

Julie nodded as he wound a length of rubber round Anne’s thigh and left it loose. The beam had come down across Anne’s lower leg and, in the bright lights, Julie could see the gleam of shattered bone beneath it. Her own pulse began to race as she realised Anne would be lucky to survive this without losing her leg, but she made sure none of her thoughts showed in her expression.

The men had finished shoring up the walls and ceiling now and had crawled to Anne’s side. ‘We daren’t cut the beam,’ said one of them. ‘So we’ll have to lift it. Be ready to pull her out the minute we give the shout.’

Julie and Michael exchanged worried glances. ‘We’ll need more help,’ she muttered. ‘I can’t tighten the tourniquet and lift her out at the same time.’

‘Ron,’ shouted Michael. ‘We need you down here.’

Ron came sliding down the ladder like an old sea dog and scrambled towards them, his face lined and ashen with worry. ‘I’ll take her top half, you do the other end,’ he muttered once Michael had explained the situation.

The three of them tensed, poised to play their part as the two burly rescuers grasped the beam. As their straining began to shift it there was an ominous creaking overhead and smaller pieces of debris began to rain down. Everyone froze.

‘It’s the only way,’ rasped the man in charge. ‘On
my count of three, lift and then it’s every man for himself.’

Julie reached for the rubber tubing, her hand slick with sweat as the man counted.

‘One, two, three.’ With a mighty groan they lifted the beam.

Blood shot from Anne’s injury like a fountain and Julie tightened the tourniquet then scrambled back as Ron and Michael lifted her away. The two men slowly and carefully replaced the beam, aware that the roof was creaking and groaning and threatening to bury them all.

There was an ominous rumble overhead and the walls of the small cavern began to shift.

Michael had just finished tightly bandaging Anne’s shattered leg when the rumble became more ominous and the walls of the cavern began to slide inwards.

Ron grabbed her, almost threw her over his shoulder and raced up the ladder, Julie and the others following swiftly.

Hands reached out to them, dragging them into the dawn and virtually carrying them down the steep side of the trembling mound. More willing hands took Anne, and within moments she and Peggy were being whisked away in an ambulance for the hospital.

Julie let Michael guide her to safety, but her legs were trembling so badly she almost fell into his arms. He led her towards a slab of concrete on the
other side of the road and she slumped onto it, her head buried in her hands as the tears of relief and pent-up fear streamed down her face.

The rumble behind her deepened and, with a clatter of wood and concrete and glass, the mound caved in and settled amid a cloud of dust.

‘Whew, that was a close call,’ muttered Michael. ‘Are you all right, Julie?’

She nodded and hastily blew her nose and dried her eyes. ‘I’m fine,’ she said rather unsteadily.

‘I prescribe a cup of hot sweet tea, a bath and a good long sleep,’ he said, reaching for his medical bag. ‘Well done,’ he added softly, his dark brown eyes regarding her with kindness. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

Julie watched as the tall, slender figure in the dusty overcoat pushed through the crowd of rescuers and bystanders and strode away. Michael Sayers had proved to be dependable and strong, assured in his skills and his sense of duty, and Julie wondered if she could have been quite so brave those last few moments if he hadn’t been down that hole with her.

‘John Baker,
Cliffehaven News
. You’re Sister Harris, aren’t you? What was it like down there?’

Julie looked up at the elderly reporter and frowned in confusion. ‘I have to get home to William,’ she murmured as she grabbed her medical bag and got unsteadily to her feet.

‘Is William your husband?’ he persisted. ‘You’re not local, are you?’

She tried to push past him, but the crowd was too tightly packed and he was determined. ‘You’re quite the heroine,’ he said. ‘Come on, love, it’s a great story. Give me something for tomorrow’s paper.’

‘Leave the wee girl alone,’ rumbled Ron as he put his arm round Julie. ‘Let’s get you out of here before this hack really starts to irritate me.’

She let him elbow their way through the crowd, but once they were clear she shot him a smile of thanks and freed herself from his grip. ‘I have to find William,’ she gasped, and before he could reply, she’d broken into a run.

It was much easier to find her way now it was light and it took only minutes to get to Eileen’s. But the dread returned when she saw that the door bore the scars of having had the lock broken – which could only mean that the men had had to break in to retrieve her medical bag. Julie’s mouth was dry, her fears all-consuming as she raced up the stairs towards the sound of William’s angry wails. Had Eileen left him alone as she’d threatened?

Stumbling into the room, she found Eileen pacing the floor, William in her arms, her expression stony. ‘And about time too,’ she snapped, dumping the screaming baby into Julie’s arms. ‘Where the hell have you been all damn night?’

Julie held William close and tried to soothe him but he continued to wail, squirming in her arms, his cries going right through her head. ‘I was caught
in the raid,’ she said wearily, and went on to explain all that had happened during the night. ‘I’m sorry about your door, Eileen. I’ll get someone to fix it.’

‘Yes, you will, and you’ll pay for it.’

‘But the raid was over. Where were you?’

‘The bakery has an Anderson shelter and I stayed on for a cup of tea and some toast.’ Eileen looked woefully at her once pristine blouse and dabbed at a stain with her handkerchief. ‘He puked all over me,’ she muttered. ‘I need to get changed.’

There was a sharp rap on the front door. ‘Miss Harris? Miss Harris, I would really like to speak to you – perhaps get a photograph for the piece?’

‘Who the hell is that?’ hissed Eileen furiously.

‘It’s the reporter from the
Cliffehaven News
. Just ignore him.’ Julie laid William on the couch and began to change his sodden nappy. ‘When was the last time you fed and changed him, Eileen?’

‘A couple of hours ago,’ she replied distractedly as the reporter continued banging on her open front door. ‘You’re going to have to leave. I can’t have reporters on my doorstep.’ She eyed Julie coldly. ‘I hope you didn’t tell him anything.’

‘I’ve said nothing, but there were enough people at the bomb site to see what happened, and I’ve no doubt someone’s talked to him.’ She made William comfortable and carried him into the kitchen to warm a fresh bottle of formula.

Eileen picked up the telephone receiver as the reporter continued to shout from the doorstep. ‘I’m
calling the police,’ she said grimly, ‘and once he’s gone, you can leave.’

Julie was exhausted to the point of sleeping on her feet as she waited for the kettle to boil on the two-ring hotplate. ‘I’m feeding William first,’ she retorted, ‘then I’ll be out of your hair.’ She eyed her sister with little affection. ‘I won’t bother you again – you can be sure of that.’

The police arrived and escorted the reporter away, and within a few minutes there was a man repairing the front door lock. Eileen stood over him, making sure he did the job properly, and when he’d finished she slammed the door and stumped upstairs to her bedroom to get changed.

Julie finished feeding William, her eyelids drooping with weariness, her whole body aching for the comfort of a soft bed. Once he was settled and asleep, she made a spam sandwich which she stuffed down with a cup of scalding tea as she packed away William’s things. ‘I’ll have to leave the two cases here and pick them up later,’ she said as Eileen came back into the room.

‘I’ll get someone to deliver them to the Town Hall before tonight.’

‘Don’t bother,’ Julie said flatly. ‘I’m not going to the Town Hall.’

Eileen frowned. ‘Where then?’

‘Beach View Boarding House.’

Eileen went quite pale beneath her heavy make-up. ‘You can’t go there,’ she rasped.

Julie wondered fleetingly why Eileen was so against her going to Peggy’s, but she was long past caring what her sister thought about anything. ‘I can go wherever I want,’ she replied as she wrapped William into his blanket. ‘At least Peggy Reilly will give us a warm welcome, which is more than can be said for you.’

She picked up her medical bag, slung the straps of her gas-mask box and handbag over her shoulder and cradled William. Without another word, or a backwards glance, she hurried down the stairs and out into the fresh, breezy morning.

Eileen heard the slam of the front door and felt the silence close in on her as she stood frozen to the spot. The little world she’d so carefully constructed around her was beginning to crumble, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.

She wrapped her arms round her waist and tried to quell the rising tide of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. She had to stay strong and detached, had to continue as she had done all those years ago, brave it out, keep going until the gossip died down. But it would be harder this time, much harder, and she didn’t know if she had the strength to do battle again.

Eileen’s sigh was tremulous as she blinked back the tears. The old wounds had been opened up, the old sorrow and shame returning – and once again she was alone to bear their burden. ‘I shouldn’t have
spoken so harshly,’ she whispered into the silence. ‘I should have welcomed her, given her a home here instead of pushing her straight into Peggy Reilly’s arms. But how could I have known that’s where she’d go?’

She sank onto the couch, the tears now streaming down her face as she plucked William’s forgotten mitten from beneath the cushion. ‘Oh, God,’ she sobbed. ‘What a mess I’ve made of everything.’

ANNE HAD BEEN
taken straight into theatre and as a distraught and anxious Peggy waited for news, she let the doctor examine her feet and stitch the deeper cuts. She hadn’t noticed how painful they were, being too taken up with Anne and the baby, but now, despite a painkilling injection, they were throbbing and made walking difficult.

Jim arrived while this was being done, his face drawn with concern and weariness, his clothes grey with dust and ash. He held her hand and kissed her brow. ‘To be sure, me darlin’ girl, that’s a terrible mess you’ve made of your feet.’

‘They’ll get better,’ she said, wincing as the doctor finished bandaging them. ‘Have you managed to get hold of Martin yet?’

‘I used the cinema telephone to contact the airbase. Martin isn’t available at the moment, but his commanding officer has promised to let him know what’s happened as soon as he’s returned. He’ll get a few days’ compassionate leave, as well, which will help Anne no end, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘The good thing is that Rose Margaret is doing well,’ she reassured him as he helped her hobble
to the waiting room. ‘Dr Sayers has been up to talk to the paediatrician, and he expects her to be well enough to come home in about ten days.’

Jim kept his arm round Peggy, his cheek resting in her dusty curls as they settled on the hard chairs. ‘What about our Anne? That leg looked pretty smashed up.’

Peggy’s voice quavered with the tears she’d been holding back for so long. ‘I don’t know, Jim. The surgeon rushed off with her before I could speak to him, and Dr Sayers won’t commit himself. But it doesn’t look good.’ She leaned against him, the weariness and pain and worry weighing heavily on her heart. ‘Oh, Jim. What if she loses her leg? What if she . . .?’

‘There, there, me darlin’ girl,’ he soothed. ‘She’ll come through, you’ll see. Anne’s a Reilly, and a fighter, and I’ll not have you thinking such terrible things.’

Peggy kept her doubts to herself, praying that Jim was right and that her darkest fears wouldn’t be realised. But the memory remained of the filthy beam that had crashed down on Anne’s leg, and of all that dirt and dust, and she simply couldn’t dismiss the thought of all those germs and what harm they might have done to shattered skin and bone.

She looked up expectantly as the door to the waiting room opened. ‘Oh, Ron,’ she sighed with a mixture of disappointment and relief. ‘I thought you might be the doctor.’

He looked older and infinitely weary as he stood
there in his filthy, ragged Home Guard uniform and asked for news. As Peggy told him the little she knew, he nodded and stepped back into the corridor. ‘I’ve left Harvey tied to the hospital gatepost, so I need to get him home. I’ll come back as soon as I can.’

‘Could you check on Mrs Finch? Only I left her all on her own last night, and she must be frantic by now.’

‘Aye, I’ll do that, Peg. And what about the wee girl, Julie? I overheard you talking last night. D’you want me to sort out a room for her and the wain?’