‘I’m away to catch the last tram,’ she smiled. ‘The front door is locked now but the caretaker will let you out at the back, so you’ll be welcome to stay for a wee while longer. Good night, girls. Take care of yourselves.’
‘I suppose we’d better all be making tracks,’ Vi murmured reluctantly. ‘All got our respirators?’
Lose a respirator and the cost was deductible from pay. Respirators were a nuisance; it was a punishable offence for any member of the armed forces to be caught without one. Respirators had to go everywhere with them, like the Ancient Mariner and his albatross.
‘Are you wanting away, ladies?’ A white-haired man limped ahead of them and opened a door at the rear of the room. ‘You’ll take care in the blackout, now.’
‘We will. We’ll be fine, ta.’ Vi looked at the medal ribbons, proudly worn on the shabby jacket. Earned in the last war, no doubt, and that stiff, awkward leg too.
They wished him good night, then stood a while, blinking in the darkness, listening to the slam of the door bolts. The dense blackness lifted a little and they were able to pick out the skyline and the dim glow of white-edged pavements and white-ringed lampposts. The blackout was complete. Even torches had to be covered with paper and car headlights painted over, except for a small cross of light at their centres. They would all be troglodytes before the war was over, thought Lucinda, with eyes that stood out on little stalks.
Ahead of them a match flared and a lighted cigarette glowed briefly like a small bright beacon, reminding them of streetlamps and bonfires and shop windows blazing with light. One day those lights would go on again, but not just yet, Lucinda thought sadly.
‘It’s very quiet, isn’t it?’ Jane felt with the toe of her shoe for the kerb edge. ‘Was it this quiet when we came, Vi?’
‘Well, no, but it’s late now, innit? Past eleven, I shouldn’t wonder. Don’t worry. We’ll soon be at the station, and it’ll be noisy enough there.’
They walked carefully, staring ahead into the night.
‘Did we pass a row of dustbins on the way here?’
‘Don’t know. Don’t remember any,’ Vi admitted dubiously.
‘No more did I. I hope I’m wrong but I – I think we’re going the wrong way.’
‘What makes you say that?’ True, it had been reasonably light when they left the station, and Glasgow, its war scars softened by the approaching night, had seemed like Liverpool to Vi. Here, too, were boarded-up shopfronts and sandbagged doorways. Here, as in her own city, bomb-ravaged buildings stood stark against the glow of a sinking sun, strangely, tragically beautiful. But now the sameness was gone. These were not the streets and alleys Vi knew and felt easy in. Here were unexpected turnings she could not recognize; and there was something else, she thought, suddenly apprehensive.
‘When we left the station, do you remember any trams?’
‘Yes, one.’ Lucinda frowned. ‘Going in the opposite direction, but I haven’t heard any lately.’
‘Well, you wouldn’t. Not now. Don’t you remember the canteen lady leaving to get the last tram?’
‘Yes, queen, I do. But take a look at that road. No tramlines there.’
‘Then we’re lost,’ Lucinda said flatly. ‘It’s because we left by the back door. We went the wrong way, I suppose. It’s easy enough in the blackout. I suppose now we’ve either got to cut through the next side street we come to and try to get to the main road, or turn round and find the canteen and start again.’
It would be better, they decided, to retrace their steps and find the door by which they had left. That way, they would know exactly where they were, and this time, if they turned right, then right again, they would be on course for the station. They must be.
‘Stupid, innit, the way you can lose your way in the dark, ’specially in a strange place?’
‘Hmm. I wonder what travellers did hundreds of years ago when there were no proper roads and no streetlights or signposts?’
‘They spent the night at an inn, if they’d any sense.’ Lucinda laughed. A nervous laugh, because she was beginning to feel uneasy. And everything was too quiet, though it was an accepted fact that if one stood very still in the blackout and listened intently, there were always footsteps out there, somewhere. Or the intimate glow of two cigarettes and the soft, low laughter of unseen lovers.
‘Well we,’ said Vi firmly, ‘are goin’ to spend the night on the Craigiebur ferry, all nice and comfortable, and we’ll be at Ardneavie in time for breakfast. So let’s get it right this time, eh?’
They did not find the canteen, nor any building like it, nor any doorway that even vaguely resembled the one through which they had left.
‘We’ve got ourselves lost,’ Vi said. ‘That’s what we’ve gone and done.’
Around them the darkness was absolute, the silence oppressive. It pressed in on them from all sides, menacing, frightening.
‘What do we do now?’ Jane whispered, her mouth suddenly dry.
‘Do you suppose that if we stood still and listened, we might hear someone? Well,’ Lucinda shrugged, ‘they say you’re never alone in the blackout, even though you can’t actually see anyone.’
‘Ar, hey,’ Vi said uneasily, ‘don’t be saying that, queen. It’s a pity we can’t see the street names, though I don’t suppose it would do us a lot of good if we could – well, not without a street map.’
‘Then let’s stand still for a little while and listen. Someone is bound to come this way eventually.’
‘Or we could try keeping going. Maybe that way we’ll hit civilization.’
‘I think we should stand here,’ Vi decided. ‘Stay still and listen and try not to panic.’
‘Quiet!’ It was Jane who heard the footsteps first, and they stood unmoving, ears straining, hardly breathing.
‘Yes!’ gasped Lucinda. Heavy footsteps, coming nearer, slow and measured.
‘I think it’s a man,’ Vi whispered, ‘but don’t worry. There’s three of us and only one of him.’
‘Shall I call out?’ Lucinda asked.
‘Okay. Or maybe a whistle would be better.’
‘Right.’ Lucinda ran her tongue round her suddenly dry lips and let out a long, slow whistle. ‘Hullo? Anybody there?’
They waited, breath indrawn, but there was no answering whistle, no reassuring call. And now the footsteps had stopped.
‘Where is he?’ Jane demanded.
‘Probably surrounding us.’
‘Now listen, don’t be worryin’. I don’t know what he’s doin’, but if the worst comes to the worst, scream for all you’re worth. It puts ’em off, does screamin’.’
‘Never mind about him,’ Jane choked. ‘What about the time!’
‘Oh, Lord!’ Lucinda flicked her lighter. ‘The train!’
‘Get that light out!’ The voice was deep and masculine.
‘It’s him!’ Vi gasped. ‘Try again.’
Lucinda held the lighter above her head and flicked it again. ‘Help us! We’re lost!’
‘Okay. Stay there.’ The voice was nearer now, the footfalls heavier, quicker. ‘And put that light out!’
He