Peggy was fast asleep and dreaming of walking on that lovely beach with Jim when she was thrust awake by an enormous explosion which rocked the house and rattled the windows. Scrambling out of bed to snatch a terrified Daisy from her cot, she almost lost her footing as a second explosion reverberated through the old walls and sent a shower of dust and plaster over them.
Thunderous gunfire from the emplacements on the surrounding hills and along the promenade swiftly followed and she gripped the screaming Daisy tightly in her arms, grabbed a blanket and dressing gown and fled into the hall, yelling to the others at the top of her voice to get downstairs.
There was no need, for within seconds she was joined in the kitchen by the five ashen-faced girls and Robert who was carrying a very confused Cordelia. As there was no sign of Ron or Harvey, Peggy could only assume they were at the Anchor with Rosie, and Queenie would still be out on her nightly prowl – but were they safe? Those V-2s had been too close for comfort.
‘What’s happening?’ Cordelia was trembling so much that when Robert carefully set her on her feet, she almost collapsed into the nearby chair.
‘It’s Hitler’s bleedin’ rockets, Grandma Cordy,’ said Ivy through chattering teeth. ‘Nearly blew the bleedin’ ’ouse up this time.’
‘All right, Ivy,’ snapped Rita, ‘there’s no need to put the wind up us even more. We all know how close they came.’
Cordelia still looked confused, and Peggy realised she hadn’t had time to put her hearing aid in before Robert hauled her out of bed. She put her free hand on her shoulder in an attempt to soothe her, but Daisy was squirming and yelling, so Sarah hurried to Cordelia and gently embraced her – explaining to her great-aunt what was happening by talking clearly, and very close to her ear.
The big guns were still hammering away and now they were joined by the sirens which began to wail, gathering volume and pitch as they were activated all through the town.
‘We ought to go into the Anderson shelter,’ said Robert, gathering Fran to him.
‘A fat lot of good that would be,’ said Ivy, shivering in her thin nightclothes. ‘If one of them things comes down, that bit of tin won’t save us. We’d be better off in the cellar.’
‘Not if the next one hits the house,’ said Peggy, still trying to soothe a sobbing, clinging Daisy. ‘We’d be buried under it.’
‘If it hits the house none of us would know about it anyway,’ said Danuta grimly. ‘We’ve all seen the craters those things leave. I vote we stay in here and take our chances.’
Another blast rocked the house and the pistol shot of cracking glass made them all cower. The kitchen window had split in half.
Galvanised into action, everyone scrambled for shelter beneath the kitchen table. There wasn’t much room, but they huddled there, holding each other for comfort as the sirens continued their blood-curdling moans, the guns pounded and a fourth rocket exploded in the distance.
The lights went out, and the darkness made it even more terrifying. Peggy heard the shatter of glass and china, and the clang of something heavy hitting the range before it thudded onto the floor. There was the ominous clatter and thump of things tumbling over the roof and crashing onto the front steps, and the creak of guttering as it was torn from its fixings.
Peggy could scarcely breathe for fear that her home was about to fall on top of them all, and the awful claustrophobia of being crushed in that small space as she was half-strangled by Daisy. Yet as she tried to ease Daisy’s grip on her neck, the child merely tightened her hold, her knees and feet digging painfully into Peggy’s stomach and ribs.
Peggy bore the discomfort, for she could feel Daisy’s little heart thumping wildly against her, and although she was finding it very hard to stay calm, she knew she must for everyone’s sake. She could hear Ivy’s stifled sobs and Fran’s quick, shallow breathing, and felt Rita trembling every time the guns boomed and something else smashed onto the floor. It seemed Danuta was the only one not to be affected, for she sat calmly next to Cordelia and didn’t even flinch when something heavy hit the front wall.
‘This is like the bad old days,’ said Cordelia with a shudder. ‘I thought they were behind us.’
‘It’s much worse, Grandma Cordy,’ rasped a distraught Ivy who was clinging to Rita. ‘At least then we could ’ear the bombs coming before they ’it.’
No one had an answer to this, so they remained silent and tense in the darkness, straining to hear anything above the sirens and cannon-fire that might herald yet another V-2. But everyone knew it served little purpose, for Hitler’s new weapon brought death without warning, and there was nothing they could do to escape it should fate decree that their time was up.
Endless minutes passed; the guns stopped their thunder; Daisy’s sobs quietened as she fell into an exhausted sleep and Peggy prayed for their deliverance. And then the sirens faded and the all-clear was finally sounded.
The silence was deafening and no one moved until Rita disentangled herself from the crush. ‘I have to get to the fire station,’ she said urgently, crawling out from beneath the table. ‘Watch out!’ she yelped in pain. ‘There’s glass everywhere.’
‘Stay where you are, Rita,’ ordered Danuta sharply. ‘I am wearing shoes and will fetch torch from emergency box.’
‘Right you are,’ said Rita, ‘but do try and hurry. They need me to drive the fire truck.’
‘I too will be needed,’ said Danuta as she bent and crab-walked out from beneath the table.
They could hear the crunch of glass beneath her feet as she carefully crossed the floor to retrieve the emergency box that had been kept by the sink since the war had begun. After fumbling around she found the torch and switched it on.
Peggy gasped in horror as the weak beam swept over the glittering shards of glass and china that had been strewn across the floor. Rita’s knee was bleeding, and she stood barefooted amidst it all, not daring to move.
Danuta snatched up the broom and swept a clear path for everyone before shining the torch on Rita’s knee. ‘You will need to check there is no glass left in that wound, Rita, and then you must clean and dress it before you go out,’ she advised.
‘I’ll see to that while you get dressed, Danuta,’ said Fran, gingerly following the cleared path in her slippers to take the first aid kit out of the box. ‘We’ll both be needed at the hospital. Lord only knows how many casualties there might be.’
As if to underline her words, the urgent ringing of fire and ambulance bells came from Camden Road.
The electricity was still off, so Sarah lit all the candles she could find in the box, anchoring them firmly into any bit of china she could find before handing one each to Fran and Danuta.
Whilst Fran hurried upstairs with Rita, and Danuta shot off to get dressed, Sarah placed the candles about the room and the others slowly emerged to stare in shock at the mess. The cracked window hadn’t withstood the blast of that fourth rocket, nor the thudding of the guns, and there were lethal shards of glass glinting in the sink and on the draining board.
Peggy’s china had been jolted from the shelves and now lay in shattered pieces amidst the pool of porridge that was still dripping from the overturned pot – and her heavy iron skillet had dropped from its nail above the range leaving a nasty dent in the hotplate cover before it hit the floor and buried an edge in the lino.
A layer of dust covered everything and Peggy’s resolve to remain calm began to falter as she eyed the large framed print of the King and Queen which had shifted on its hook to a sharp angle, knocking her mother’s clock and all the photographs off the mantelpiece. By some miracle, the precious clock had landed on the fireside chair and was still in one piece, but it was the sight of Jim’s certificate and newspaper cutting lying on the floor that broke through the tight hold she’d kept on her emotions for the past hour, and she burst into tears.
Robert put his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Peggy,’ he said softly. ‘Sarah and I will clean up here whilst you see to Daisy.’
‘I’ll get Grandma Cordy sorted and then help with the clean-up,’ said Ivy. ‘We’ll soon have it all ship-shape again, you’ll see.’
Peggy nodded, unable to even thank them in case she went completely to pieces. She took a candle and carried Daisy into her bedroom to settle her into her cot, before getting dressed. It was still black as night outside, even though it was almost six o’clock. Unlike Daisy, she was far too tense and fretful to sleep.
Staring at her reflection in the dark, rain-lashed window which had survived the blasts thanks to the heavy taping she’d kept over it, her fears rose and her thoughts whirled.
Where had those rockets landed? Had RAF Cliffe and Tamarisk Bay escaped – was the Anchor still standing – and Doris’s bungalow? And what about Kitty and Charlotte and their babies up in Briar Lane – and Fred the Fish and his wife Lil who lived three streets away with their adopted boys? And then there was the telephone exchange where April worked, and the little stationmaster’s cottage where she lived with her baby Paula and her Uncle Stan – and … and …
She shook her head, knowing that if she carried on like this she’d be sent mad by it all, and would be of no help to anyone. She heard the sound of running feet coming down the stairs and across the hall and knew it was Rita, Danuta and Fran leaving to do their bit at the fire station and hospital, so she purposefully rolled up the sleeves of her cardigan and donned her wrap-around apron. It was time to be doing something useful, rather than standing about in here worrying herself silly.
Peggy left the bedroom door ajar in case Daisy woke and needed her, and returned to the kitchen to discover that Robert and the two girls had done a sterling job in clearing away the broken glass and china and stirring the range fire back into life. Ivy was on her knees scrubbing away the last of the porridge, Sarah was putting away the unbroken china she’d washed, and Robert had found a bit of hardboard – probably from Ron’s shed – and was nailing it over the window to stop the wind and rain from getting in.
‘No sign of Ron yet?’ she asked, mournfully regarding the very few bits of china she had left before reaching for the kettle.
‘I expect he’s out with the wardens and Home Guard,’ said Robert, the raucous sound of more fire engines arriving from the station in the next town almost drowning him out. ‘There were bound to be people trapped after that raid, and it’ll be all hands on deck. Once I’ve done this and checked on the rest of the house, I’ll go out to see what I can do to help.’
‘The window in my bedroom is still in one piece, so there’s no need to disturb Daisy,’ she replied. ‘And it’s still too dark to see anything outside – but I have a horrible feeling the chimney’s gone. Where’s Cordelia?’
‘Out for the count in her bed,’ said Ivy. ‘Poor old duck’s worn out.’
Peggy wasn’t surprised to hear it, and she went to the table to inspect the pitiful stack of photographs which had once stood so proudly on her mantelpiece. They’d been taken out of their damaged frames, the broken glass carefully removed – but the sturdy frames Ron had made for Jim’s certificate and newspaper cutting were still all right, and she placed them back on the mantel. Eyeing the dust and debris lying over everything, she didn’t have the heart to explore the rest of the house. ‘Oh, lawks,’ she sighed. ‘I do so hate this bloody war.’
‘We all do,’ said Ivy, getting to her feet to dump the filthy cloth in the sink. ‘Especially when me breakfast ends up on the flaming floor.’ She pushed her hair off her face with the back of her grubby hand. ‘Still, at least we’ve got a roof over our ’eads, which is probably more than some after tonight, so I suppose we should count ourselves lucky.’
‘We’re all alive,’ said Sarah, ‘and I for one am very grateful. I think we should get dressed, Ivy, and go and see if we can help in any way.’
‘Yeah, yer right, as always,’ said Ivy. ‘Make that tea, Auntie Peg, we’ll need something warm inside us before we go out in that.’ She jerked her thumb towards the sound of the heavy rain battering the hardboard, and then hurried out of the room after Sarah.
Peggy pulled herself out of the doldrums, realising she had no business to feel sorry for herself when she’d got off so lightly. After all, she reasoned silently, what were a few broken cups and picture frames compared to lost homes and lives?
There was still no sign of Queenie, which was very worrying, but she supposed she was hiding out somewhere, still terrified by those explosions. She tried not to think of her out there in the rain, alone and frightened, but it was difficult, for Queenie was as much a part of the family as the rest of them.
To keep herself busy, Peggy made the tea, lit a cigarette and quickly put some bread on the hotplate to toast before checking the contents of her larder. She doubted very much if the hens had laid any eggs with all that racket going on, but there was a packet of Shredded Wheat, and enough bread and milk to get them through until tomorrow morning when the shops opened again.
Once the tea and toast was on the table, Peggy’s restlessness sent her into the hall. She would telephone round to make sure everyone was all right.
But the electricity was still off and the telephone line was dead. In growing frustration, she returned to the kitchen and began to clear away the layer of dust and debris that smothered the collection of oddments on the dresser. She’d been meaning to sort it all out for days, and as she needed something to do, this seemed to be as good a time as any.
Robert and the girls came back down, bundled up in raincoats, scarves and hats. They stood to drink the tea and stuff down the toast before hurrying out into the darkness and the teeming rain.
Peggy stood on the back doorstep calling for Queenie, but there was no sign of her, so she checked the hen house was still standing and the birds alive, then shut the door and returned to the kitchen. She wished she could do something to help in the aftermath of those rockets, but with Daisy and Cordelia asleep, she had little choice but to stay here and carry on with clearing up.
Returning to her previous task, she sorted out the top of the dresser, and gave the old battered wood a good polish before running the mop over the floor and wiping the dust and grit from the oilcloth on the table.
However, she soon found that although her hands were busy, her imagination was running wild and putting her on edge. She couldn’t help but worry about where those rockets had come down, and if her friends and loved ones were safe.
Unable to stand it any longer, she grabbed her coat and headed for the front door to see if she could spot any sign of fire which might give her some idea of where those rockets had landed.
The distant sound of fire and ambulance bells echoed throughout the town, and as she opened the door, she was met by the horrifying sight of the enormous flames of a blazing inferno rising into the sky less than two hundred yards away. Two fire engines were already in attendance, but the jets of water and drenching rain seemed to be making little difference to the ferocity of those flames.
Peggy took a shuddering breath, the realisation of how close they’d all come to being killed making her pulse race. Tearing her gaze from that awful sight, she noted the rubble strewn on her steps and the glow of another fire to the west. It seemed far enough away to be on the other side of the cliffs where there was nothing but fields – but perhaps that was wishful thinking, for the dawn had yet to come and it was difficult to gauge the distance.
However, there had been four explosions, so there must be four fires. She pulled up her coat collar and was about to leave the shelter of her doorway for a better view from the end of the cul-de-sac when she thought she heard something.
Peggy stilled, straining to hear it again beneath the background noise of shouting firemen and drumming rain. She began to wonder if she’d imagined it and was about to go back indoors for her umbrella when it came again.
The faint, pitiful mewl was instantly recognisable and drew her onto the top step. She peered down into the gloom. ‘Queenie? Is that you? Where are you?’
A dark shadow shifted slowly on the pavement into the reflected glow of the nearby fire, and with a heart-rending yowl, struggled to climb the bottom step to reach her.
Peggy stumbled down the rubble-strewn steps and sank to her knees beside Queenie, who’d collapsed, and was now lying panting and clearly in great distress.
‘Oh, Queenie,’ Peggy breathed tearfully, ‘what is it? What’s happened to you?’
Queenie lifted her head to Peggy’s gentle touch, her eyes pleading for help and dulled with pain as she reached out a trembling paw. But even this small movement seemed to prove too much, and she collapsed again.
Peggy tentatively ran her hand over the soaking black fur, but the cat didn’t respond – not even when Peggy’s fingers found the cruel sliver of metal embedded in her spine.
‘No! Oh, Queenie, no,’ she sobbed, gathering her to her heart and burying her face in her lifeless neck.
Blinded by her tears, unaware of the rain beating down on her and the rubble digging into her knees, Peggy rocked Queenie in her arms, remembering how she’d arrived at Beach View in Ron’s coat pocket – a tiny ball of fluff that fitted in the palm of Peggy’s hand. And how Harvey had tried to intimidate this intruder with his barking and snarling, only to be cowed by a swipe of her sharp claws, eventually becoming her constant, loyal companion. And how, despite her withered back leg, she’d taken to accompanying Ron and the dogs when they walked the hills, often returning home exhausted and tucked into Ron’s coat pocket.
Peggy finally got to her feet and carried her indoors for the last time. Queenie had become an intrinsic part of the Beach View family, and had done her best to come home to them, so it was only right that Peggy should help her complete her final journey.