‘Molly is never going to know this,’ Ray said. ‘In fact, with the powders and brandy I am tipping down her neck she’ll barely be able remember her own name by the end of the week, let alone the reason she came back to Birmingham.’
‘But why brandy?’ Charlie asked. ‘She will get nowt but gin at Vera’s.’
‘Yeah, but I prefer brandy,’ Ray said. ‘Don’t worry, by the time she goes to Vera’s, she will drink anything going, and be willing to sell her old grandmother for the price of a fix.’
‘Hear hear,’ Charlie said, and they chinked glasses as the all clear sounded.
When Molly realised she was naked in bed the following morning she was filled with mortification. Never in her like could she remember going to bed in such a state, and she looked at her clothes littering the floor with horrified surprise, for she had always folded her clothes neatly, even the hated dungarees, before getting into bed.
She also felt ill, really ill. Her head was pounding and she felt as if she had weights pulling at her, dragging her down. She knew that day she had to look for Kevin, but she didn’t know whether she had the strength even to get to the bathroom unaided. There was a knock at the door and as Ray entered with a cup of tea, Molly swiftly pulled the clothes to her neck.
Ray smiled as he laid the tea on the side table and surveyed the floor. ‘You went a little wild in here last night,’ he remarked. Then he picked up the nightdress Molly had worn the previous night and said, ‘Did you choose another nightdress for yourself?’
Molly’s eyes were like circles in her head as she shook it slowly from side to side, dislodging the sheet as she did so and displaying her bare shoulders. Ray cried, ‘You have nothing on at all, have you?’
‘No.’
‘Well, now, you brazen little hussy, you try and tell me now that you are not trying to break out of the prudish prison your upbringing and the Catholic Church has put you in.’
‘I don’t know. Maybe,’ Molly said. ‘I feel so confused, and my head is spinning. I feel really ill, Ray.’
‘Have your tea,’ Ray advised, handing her the cup and saucer. ‘I’ve put a wee drop of brandy in it to guard against the cold. That will put you right.’
‘Good,’ Molly said. ‘Because I have to get up then. I have to look for something.’ For a moment her eyes were troubled and her brow puckered as she tried to remember. Then her eyes cleared and she said, ‘No, not something, but some people: my brother, Kevin, Granddad and Hilda.’
‘Not today I don’t think,’ Ray said.
‘Oh, but—’
‘Look,’ Ray said, and he drew aside the blackout curtains. Molly saw rain teeming down outside. ‘You couldn’t go out in this,’ he said. ‘And anyway, do you feel up to it?’
‘No,’ Molly said in a small voice. ‘Ray, what is happening to me?’
‘I’d say you were exhausted and you might have caught a chill or something on the way over. Nothing a couple of days in bed won’t cure.’
‘You think so?’
‘Yes, I think so,’ Ray said reassuringly. ‘Now, I’ll see if I can rustle us up some breakfast and you needn’t lift a finger. What do you say?’
‘I say that sounds just fine,’ said Molly.
Molly spent the day in bed, getting out of it only to use the bathroom, not even bothering to dress so that Ray laughingly called her his little wanton, but the next day she felt worse instead of better, and was only helped by the especially laced tea that Ray brought her in.
The weather had improved slightly by the afternoon, and as Ray drew the blackout curtains he noted the clear skies and the half-moon visible in the dusky sky, and knew that there could easily be a raid that night. In her drug-induced sleep, Molly had slept through the light skirmish on Wednesday night and there hadn’t been a raid on Thursday, but in case there was one that night, he gave Molly an extra ladle of brandy and more powder than usual to ensure she would sleep through it before he left the flat.
However, Molly had a nightmare, and in the middle of it she began to scream and woke with a jolt, panting with fear, which increased when she realised it wasn’t her screaming at all; it was coming from outside and it was the air-raid siren.
She felt disorientated and strange, and she struggled out of bed, calling for Ray. Her legs felt very wobbly and, holding on to the bed and the bedside cabinet, she made a staggering lurch to the door and was alarmed to find it locked. She hammered on it and shouted until she was hoarse, then faced the realisation that she was alone in the flat. Then total terror took hold of her. She sank to the floor and sobbed while all around her was the drone of planes, the whistle of descending bombs, the crump and crash of explosions, the barking of the ack-ack fire and then the ringing bells of the emergency services.
The hours ticked by and there was no let-up in the bombing. Time lost all meaning. There was no sign of Ray returning either, and surely now, she told herself, he couldn’t return in the teeth of a raid. Shaking like a leaf, Molly gingerly pulled herself up and stood swaying and holding on to the bedpost for dear life, waiting for the room to stop its listing. She was going to watch what was happening outside, face her fear like her father had always told her to do.
There were two windows in the bedroom, one overlooking the factory and the other on to the street, and she made for that one because she could hold on to the bed all the way round. Then with the blackout curtains pulled wide, she stood and watched as Birmingham burned.
Pockets of fire were everywhere, littering the skyline, spitting and crackling into the night with flames of yellow, orange and red vying with the arc lights raking the sky. Molly heard the bombs descend, saw buildings crumple in balloons of dust, some bursting into flames. Firemen valiantly played their hoses on them and ambulances streaked through the night. She watched for some time, mesmerised by it all, until in the end she cried at the sight of her city being destroyed and for the innocent men, women and children who had to try to live through it. She knew many would be injured or killed before the raid was over.
Suddenly, a bomb fell close, so close it shook the building. Molly felt the tremor beneath her feet and she fairly leaped onto the bed with a howl of anguished fear. Her whole body was quivering and her teeth chattering as she sat with her knees meeting her chin, her arms wrapped around herself and her head down, and waited for the building to collapse on top of her and for her to die.
Ray found her there the next morning. He had sat out the raid in a public shelter and then gone back to his own place after the all clear had sounded in the early morning to grab a few hours’ sleep. When he first saw Molly curled as she was on the bed, she was so still and the room so quiet he thought for a moment she had died of fright. The thought passed through his mind that Collingsworth would not get the virgin he craved, nor would he and Charlie get the money he had promised them.
However, Molly was not dead. As Ray took hold of one of her arms, he felt the pulse and he peeled her hands away from her knees. Molly’s eyes were open. That had startled him at first, but he realised they were seeing nothing. She was in some sort of trance and he caught hold of her shoulders and shook her a little.
When Molly came to and saw Ray’s face before her, the one face she had longed to see, she, who didn’t hug and kiss easily, was so overcome with joy and relief that she threw her arms around his neck and began kissing him all over his face.
He pushed her away and she began to babble, ‘Oh, please, don’t leave me, Ray. I can’t bear it when you do. Please stay with me. I will do anything, just about anything, if you stay with me.’
Ray smiled. He knew now that Molly would be putty in his hands and he put his arms around her and said, ‘All right. Stop this now. You are trembling like a leaf. I’m here, aren’t I, and not going anywhere?’
‘Oh, thank you, Ray, thank