Home Front Girls

city. Finally, at just after six o’clock in the morning, the all-clear sounded and people began to emerge from their shelters to a scene of hell on earth. The beautiful Cathedral of St Michael’s lay in ruins, as did most of the city centre – and everywhere they looked flames were licking into the sky. Sometime later it was reported that the fires had been so severe that people who lived 100 miles away could see the glow in the sky. Thousands found themselves homeless. Water mains and major roads had been targeted first, making it almost impossible for the fire engines to reach or tackle the blazes. Seriously wounded people and dead bodies littered the streets, and many more families were trapped beneath piles of smouldering rubble that only hours before had been their homes.
    ‘God help us,’ Mrs P sobbed as they looked about them. Mangled water-pipes rose out of the roads like grotesque sculptures and not a window in the whole street had any glass left in it. The whole landscape had changed, with rows of houses in ruins as if they had never been. Thankfully their house was still standing, although they could see a large hole in one corner of the roof.
    Mr P rushed inside and fiddled with the wireless until the latest news reports began to filter through.
    ‘It ain’t just us that’s took it,’ he told Mrs P and Lucy when they joined him. ‘London’s been raided an’ all by twenty-one bombers, poor sods. We took the brunt o’ nearly four hundred an’ fifty o’ the bastards, an’ only two of ’em shot down.’ He shook his head sorrowfully, wondering where it was all going to end, before straightening his shoulders and telling his wife, ‘Well, standin’ here gripin’ ain’t goin’ to do no good, is it? I’m off to see where I can help. There might be people buried under the rubble, an’ the Army lads’ll need all the help they can get. An’ there ain’t much point turnin’ in to work, I doubt there’s a factory left standin’.’ And so saying he went to put his work boots on as Mrs P looked around her home in alarm. The severity of the close blasts had covered every surface with soot from the chimney, and broken glass from the windows was strewn all across the floors.
    ‘I bet my house won’t be any better,’ Lucy said, gripping Harry’s lead. ‘I’ll leave you to it now and go and make a start on mine, Mrs P.’
    ‘Aye, you do that, love,’ the woman told her as she went to collect a broom. It looked like they would both have enough to keep them busy that day.
     
    Miranda and Annabelle had just walked back into Primrose Lodge later that morning when the phone rang. Miranda hurried to answer it, aware that they were very lucky indeed that the phone was still connected. Many of the telephone exchanges across the city had been bombed.
    ‘Hello, is that Mrs Smythe?’
    Recognising Robert’s voice, Miranda answered, ‘Yes, it’s me, Robert. Are you all right?’
    ‘I’m fine,’ he assured her. ‘It’s good to know that you are too. I just wanted to know if Dotty’s OK. I think Miss Timms’s phone is down because I can’t get through.’
    Miranda felt misgivings but tried to sound confident as she said, ‘I’m sure she is, but most of the phone lines are down here. I’ve no doubt the girls will be in touch with each other later on, and as soon as they are, I’ll get her to ring you.’
    ‘Thank you, I’d appreciate that.’
    Hearing the concern in his voice, she sighed wearily. It had been a hellish night and during it she had seen sights that would stay with her forever – but when were these two idiots going to admit what they meant to each other? She despaired of them sometimes!
    Once she had placed the telephone receiver down she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror and gasped. Her hair was caked with thick dust, her clothes were bloodspattered and smelly, and there were dark bags beneath her eyes from lack of sleep. An exhausted Annabelle had collapsed onto a chair in the kitchen. When Miranda entered she found the girl with her head on her arms, fast asleep.
    ‘Come along, miss,’ she told her. ‘I’m going to make you a good strong cup of tea and I’ll put the water heater on. Then you’re to have a nice hot bath and get yourself into bed for a few hours. And Annabelle, I was really proud of you last night, you worked so hard.’
    ‘So did everyone else,’ Annabelle replied ungraciously. Miranda sighed as she filled the kettle at the sink.