Her sobs were wild, as if all the bottled-up grief of the past months had burst out and was not to be silenced. Her body shook with anger and loathing for what she had seen. She wanted to run, but had no place to run to; only Tippet’s Yard to come home to. She fished for a handkerchief, dabbing her eyes, blowing her nose noisily. Then she took a deep breath and held it until her head pounded.
‘You finished then?’ Nell said sternly.
‘Yes. An’ I’m sorry if I upset you. I know I’m better off than a lot and I should be saving my tears for that little baby. But I’ll tell you something for nothing, if you’re in the mood to listen. I’m gettin’ out of this place! I’ve had enough. I’m off, Nell!’
‘Oh, ar. And where to, then? Your auntie’s place in the Lake District will it be, or yer posh cousin’s ’ouse in Llandudno?’ Nell asked with a sarcasm she didn’t really mean. ‘Oh, grow up, girl. Tippet’s Yard isn’t exactly the Adelphi, but it wasn’t bombed like Lyra Street. At least we’re sleepin’ in our own beds, and not on the floor of some drill hall. And where is there for the likes of us to go, will you tell me? And who’d pay our fares, even supposin’ the trains and buses was normal?’
‘She’s right,’ said Tommy, who had heard the commotion and come to see what was to do. ‘We sit tight and count our blessings and stick together. And hope them bombers don’t come back again for another seven nights!’
‘Sorry Tommy, Nell. It was just that I couldn’t believe what I saw. And the baby … It was so little, and lonely. What right have they to kill babies?’
‘We send bombers out too,’ Nell said mildly, nodding to Tommy to fill the kettle. ‘Wars are no respecters of innocence.’
‘I’m a selfish little cat, aren’t I?’ Contritely Meg shaped her lips into a smile. ‘And Ma would be glad to be alive, wouldn’t she – bombs and all?’
‘I’m not so sure about that.’ Tommy lit the gas with a plop. ‘Your mother had a hard life. She’s better off where she is, in heaven.’
‘Ma never talked about heaven, nor God. Don’t think she believed in all that, Tommy.’
‘Oh, my word, but she did! Not your religious ’eaven, mind, but if poor Doll’s soul is anywhere it’s at that Candlefold of hers. Her face’d light up when she talked about it,’ Nell said softly. ‘So don’t go wishing her alive, girl. She was a sick woman and she’s happy now. Heaven is where you make it, don’t forget! Now, who’s for a sup of tea, then?’
The May evening was warm, and what they could see of the sky a bright blue, still. They sat on wooden chairs in the little cobbled yard, wondering at the silence; trying not to think of those seven nights past, nor allow themselves to wonder if the blitz would happen again.
‘It’s true, then. He really did come,’ Nell murmured. ‘Was on the nine o’clock news.’ If it was on the wireless, you had to believe it.
‘Hess, you mean? Fishy, if you ask me. Will they shoot him, d’you think?’
‘Hope so.’ Nell gazed longingly at a cigarette, then placed it tenderly back in her pocket. ‘Suppose they’ll lock him in the Tower, though.’
‘I’d lock him in a house in the East End of London,’ Meg offered with narrowed eyes. ‘Then when his lot bomb London, he’ll get a bit of his own back. He must be mad, though, coming here. Maybe Hitler’s sent him to offer peace terms.’
‘Well, we don’t want peace with that lot. And won’t bluddy Hitler be annoyed when he finds out that his deputy was taken prisoner by a ploughman with a pitchfork?’ Nell laughed heartily. ‘Ah, well, it takes all sorts …’
The capture of Rudolf Hess was of no interest to Nell Shaw. Of more importance was where she would find her next five cigarettes and if the butcher – whose shop had survived the bombing – would have off-the-ration sausages for sale tomorrow.
‘I did hear,’ said Tommy, ‘that there’s an office been opened in Scotty Road – a sort of help place for bombed-outs. Seems a lot of folk have lost their identity cards and their ration books – just blown to smithereens. Got nuthin’ but what they stand up in. Mind, I’d have thought they’d have taken things like that with them to the shelter.’
‘Folk only think of finding somewhere safe when that siren goes,’ Nell defended.
‘Mm …’ Meg was thinking about the baby still, and about the cardboard coffins they were putting the dead in – those no one had claimed, that was – and burying them in mass graves. At least Ma had had a decent funeral. It made Meg wonder, since she was almost sure her mother had never been a one for religion, what she would have made of it all, and the vicar who didn’t even know her saying kind things at the graveside. And was heaven where you made it, and hell too? There was a lot of sense in what Nell said, because Meg already knew that hell was a blitzed city and a baby lying on the pavement. This morning, she had looked hell in the face.
‘A penny for them!’ A hand broke Meg’s line of vision. ‘You were miles away, girl. Thinking about Doll, were you?’
‘Yes. And about the baby …’
‘Now see here, Meg Blundell! Isn’t no use gettin’ maudlin’. What’s done is done. Nuthin’ any of us can do about it. And maybe you’d better try to find that place in Scotty Road – ask them where you can sign on, for a start, and if they’ve got any jobs. Did you pay your stamps? They’ll have to give you dole if you did! First thing tomorrow you’ll have to snap out of it and get on with your life, ’cause if you don’t, bluddy Hitler’ll have won, won’t he? Can’t you see that that’s what he wants to do; knock the stuffing out of us so that when he invades we’ll throw up our hands without a fight?’
‘Do you think he’ll come, then?’ Since Nazi Germany had occupied France, it seemed only a matter of time before an invasion fleet set out for England.
‘Nah! He’ll have to get here first! Don’t forget we’ve got the sea all around us, girl, and a navy to protect us. Oh, it was easy for them stormtroopers to walk through Belgium and sneak round the end of the Maginot Line into France, but even Hitler can’t walk on water, don’t forget!’
‘But do you think that if it happened, we’d make a fight of it, like Churchill says? Would we fight on the beaches and in the streets?’
‘I think you should worry about that,’ Tommy said firmly, ‘if it happens. As far as I’m concerned, them Jairmans are taking their time making their minds up. Nearly a year since Dunkirk, don’t forget.’
‘So where’ll he go next?’ Meg persisted. ‘Hitler’s been very quiet lately, you’ve got to admit it. Hasn’t invaded anywhere …’
‘I wouldn’t say quiet exactly,’ Nell sniffed, thinking of the nights of bombing, ‘but I’m inclined to agree with you, girl. Hasn’t taken over anywhere this last year. Mind, there’s precious few countries left for him to grab.’
‘Except ours …’
‘And Sweden and Spain and Switzerland,’ Tommy offered. ‘Mind, them three’s neutral. Maybe it suits him to leave them alone – for diplomatic purposes, like. So that only leaves America and Russia.’
‘America’s too far away,’ Meg reasoned, ‘and Russia’s got a pact with Germany.’
‘Hitler don’t trust Stalin, for all that.’ Nell gave into temptation and placed the cigarette between her lips. ‘But forget about ’im. I’m goin’ to put the kettle on – make us a cup of cocoa. You got any dried milk, Meg?’
Nell Shaw had had enough of war talk, and she was tired.