Ron opened his eyes to utter darkness and the snuffling of a cold wet nose. He tried to lift his head but a sharp pain shot up his back and into his neck. Spitting and snorting dirt from his nose and mouth, he felt Harvey’s tongue rasp across his face.
‘Gerroff,’ he spluttered. ‘Will yer not be slobbering over me?’
Harvey whined and dug around Ron, nudging his nose through the dirt and debris that threatened to smother him before returning to wash his face.
‘Good boy,’ Ron managed. ‘Thanks be you’re in one piece, but that’s enough washing for now.’ He tried to push him off but found he could move no more than his hands – anything else sent terrible pains right through him. His head was throbbing, and his searching fingers found an egg-sized lump above his forehead, which had been neatly sliced into two and was probably bleeding.
He decided he couldn’t just lie here in the hope that someone might come and find them. It was a miracle they were still alive, and now it was up to him to get them both out of here. He steeled himself to bear the pain and attempted to sit up – only to slump back down as a knife of searing agony ripped through him. Something large and extremely heavy was pinning him firmly to the floor.
Determined not to let the growing fear overwhelm him, he counted the seconds until the pain ebbed, and then tried to wriggle his toes and move his legs. They didn’t respond, and that’s when he knew he was in very serious trouble.
He lay in the dirt and darkness fighting against the claustrophobia and the rapidly growing terror that he and Harvey would die down here.
Every sound was magnified in that all-pervading black void and although he couldn’t see, his other senses were heightened. He could hear the drip, drip, drip of water, the sigh of shifting earth and the groan of the supporting props; could smell the skittering, scampering creatures that lived down here, and the sour stench of his own sweat – and could feel the depths of the earth that almost entombed him, and the heavy weight on his spine that pinned him down on the unyielding floor. His imagination began to feed on those sounds. He needed light, had to have light.
But where was the torch? He hadn’t had time to switch it off when he’d been blown through the tunnel, but there wasn’t a glimmer to be seen.
‘Don’t let the battery be dead,’ he whispered, his fingers frantically scrabbling through the debris around him. ‘Please God if you’re really there, don’t let the battery be dead.’
He felt the edge of it, but it slid from beneath his fingers and skittered away out of reach.
‘Fetch it, boy,’ he gasped. ‘Fetch the torch.’
Harvey snuffled and scrabbled around him, his breath hot on Ron’s face, his heavy paws trampling painfully over Ron’s shoulders as he desperately tried to do his bidding.
Ron bore the pain, for surely it was better to feel something that kept you alert, instead of that awful numbness in his legs and the silent creeping darkness that was beginning to sap the life from him.
He winced as Harvey dropped the heavy torch on his nose. ‘Good boy,’ he rasped, making a painful grab for it and fumbling for the switch more in hope than expectation that it had somehow switched itself off when he’d dropped it.
And it had, it had. Ron gloried in the light after all that darkness, but the beam was frail and wavering as he swept it over Harvey. The dog was filthy but seemed unharmed, which was a huge relief, so he aimed the beam in front of him and discovered he’d come to rest against something hard. He dug away the dirt that covered it and discovered it was the generator.
That small effort proved too much and he paused to catch his breath and deal with the deep, throbbing ache in the small of his back. He had his bearings now: he was lying in the left-hand corner of the main bunker, with his back to the tunnel which led to the steps and the hatch.
Harvey licked his face and nuzzled his ear as he whined and pawed at his shoulder to encourage him to get up.
There was nothing Ron would have liked more than to do just that, but he could barely move. Harvey had made a fair stab at clearing enough dirt away from his face so he could breathe, and Ron shoved away more until his head was resting on the cracked concrete. Then he switched off the torch to try and save the battery whilst he rested.
Plunged back into absolute darkness, Ron could feel it wrap itself around him and begin to sink its way right to his core.
Unable to bear it any longer, he turned the torch back on and quickly inspected the ceiling and walls. The concrete had come down, leaving exposed tree roots and great clods of earth that were precariously hanging from them, but he couldn’t see even a hint of sky, or feel a breath of air coming from the air vents that were beyond the torchlight. He could only pray those vents were still open.
He switched off the torch, closed his eyes against that all-pervasive darkness and nestled his cheek against Harvey’s muzzle, his mind working furiously.
How the hell was he going to get them out of here when he was unable to move more than his arms and hands? Even if Harvey barked himself hoarse no one would hear him, for they were a long way from any of the buildings on the Cliffe estate, deep within a remote valley and at least two miles from the nearest gun emplacement. The escape tunnels had probably caved in, so the only way out was through the trapdoor, and he’d closed that on their way in.
But perhaps those explosions had loosened and shifted the earth away from it enough for Harvey to be able to dig his way out? The thought lightened his spirits a little. ‘Harvey,’ he murmured, ‘I want you to go home.’
He switched on the torch and, with a groan of agony, twisted towards the sharp bend that led to the tunnel and the steps which seemed to be clogged with dirt. ‘Go home that way, Harvey. Try to get home,’ he gasped before passing out from the unbearable pain.
When he came to again, it took a moment to get his thoughts back into order. Whether Harvey had tried and failed to get out, or not tried at all, Ron would never know, for he could feel Harvey’s muzzle against his cheek and hear the soft, fretful whines in his throat.
‘It’s all right,’ he muttered as the stark reality of their situation pierced his confusion and pain. ‘We’ll get out somehow.’
Harvey snuggled closer, and Ron could feel him trembling. He tried to switch on the torch, but the battery had died along with Ron’s last vestiges of hope.
Fumbling back his sleeve, he saw the illuminated hands on his watch. Twelve hours had passed since he’d left Beach View, and now it was almost three in the afternoon. Surely, by now, someone must have noticed that he and Harvey had disappeared?
He held Harvey’s paws and pressed his face into his filthy fur to comfort them both, for he already knew the answer. As he’d brought Harvey with him, neither of them would be missed until tonight. Peggy would think they were with Rosie, and Rosie would assume they were at Beach View. And even when they did realise both man and dog were missing, no one would know where to start looking for them.
The claustrophobia was closing in again and he fought to overcome it, determined to keep his mind clear despite the terrible throbbing in his head and the deep pain in his back. If only he could shift whatever was pinning him down, he might stand a chance of getting out of here. He reached back as far as he could, and his fingers scrabbled over what felt like a huge lump of rough concrete, and by the width and weight of it, he had absolutely no chance of shifting it.
He rested again, counting the seconds until the pain eased a little, his mind working furiously. There was a glimmer of hope – a tiny one – and he clung to it desperately, knowing it was their only chance of rescue.
Stan and Frank and the others would be waiting for him at the Officers’ Club at seven, and when he didn’t show up, there was one man amongst them who might, just might, have the wits about him to put two and two together and realise where he was. But it was a long shot, and even if he did suspect what had happened, would he remember the way after all this time?
Ron patted Harvey’s paws and felt the reassuring softness of his nuzzling cheek against his face. ‘We just have to be patient, boy. To be sure, he’ll find us,’ he whispered as the foul air seemed to thicken and a heavy drowsiness crept over him.
Peggy hadn’t had the chance to speak to Solly. According to Madge, he’d been called to an emergency meeting at the main synagogue in the next town and couldn’t say when he’d be back.
‘If it’s important, then I’m sure Rachel wouldn’t mind coming in,’ Madge said. ‘Or perhaps I can help?’
Peggy had known Madge for years and could trust her implicitly, but the things troubling her were not for her ears, and she didn’t want to disturb Rachel who she knew was hosting a fund-raising tea party this afternoon in aid of homeless refugees.
The files had been rendered harmless, and Mavis was welcome to pry if she dared. ‘It’ll keep until tomorrow,’ she said. ‘I hope you haven’t forgotten it’s Rosie’s send-off do tonight.’
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ said Madge, patting the fresh shampoo and set she’d treated herself to in her lunch break. ‘I haven’t had a decent night out in ages.’
‘See you at seven in the Anchor then, and don’t forget to bring something to help with the food and drink. Rosie might have a pub, but it wouldn’t be fair to expect her to give us all free drinks.’
Peggy shot off to collect Daisy, who was now in her usual dungarees, sweater and wellington boots, and quite happy after having had jelly and ice cream as a birthday treat. She noted that the doll had been carefully wrapped in the knitted cardigan and was buried in the string bag beneath the good dress and shoes. As Daisy seemed to have forgotten about the doll, Peggy thought she might hide it away until she was older and less likely to tear it to pieces.
They arrived back at Beach View to find that everyone but Danuta was home and dressed up to the nines for the party. Daisy demanded she put on her birthday finery again and Cordelia obliged whilst Peggy dished up a plate of supper for herself and Daisy and the girls finished making the pile of sandwiches they would be taking to the Anchor.
‘I suppose Ron’s already gone to the Officers’ Club,’ said Peggy, noting his and Harvey’s absence. ‘I hope they let dogs in, or there’ll be ructions like there were before that parade.’
‘None of us have seen him,’ said Sarah, ‘but then we haven’t been home for long.’
‘He’s probably getting ready at Rosie’s,’ said Ivy with a wink. ‘You know what them two are like with their billing and cooing.’
Peggy rolled her eyes and made no comment as she tweaked the tea towel more firmly around Daisy’s neck and over her new dress to save it from food droppings.
Robert came into the kitchen a while later looking very smart in a suit and tie beneath his tweed overcoat, his shoes highly polished. ‘Well, I’d better be off,’ he said, giving Fran a hug and kiss before handing her the violin case which she’d left upstairs. ‘Have fun, girls, and I’ll try not to wake you up when I bring Ron home.’
‘Chance’d be a fine thing,’ said Rita. ‘Anyway,’ she added with a cheeky grin, ‘we might still be out having a fine old time ourselves.’
Peggy remembered Brendon’s send-off on his last leave home, and had a sudden fleeting image of Frank face down in Ron’s compost heap while Ron lay snoring on the cellar floor, and poor Brendon trying to wheelbarrow Frank indoors. It had been very funny, but not something to be repeated when they all had to be at work the next day.
‘You’d better bring Frank with you as well,’ she said to Robert. ‘He’ll never make it to Tamarisk Bay in the dark, and I don’t want him falling off a cliff.’
Peggy finished her supper, and left Daisy under the watchful eye of Sarah to go and pack an overnight bag and get changed. She and Daisy would be sleeping in Rosie’s spare room tonight, so they’d both need nightclothes and something clean for the morning.
With the case packed, she opened her underwear drawer and looked in disgust at her old corset. The elastic was threadbare and sagging, the satin virtually falling apart. And she’d lost so much weight since the start of the war, the damned thing swum on her.
Tossing it aside to put in the dustbin later, she decided to flout convention and go without it – after all, she reasoned silently, she had nothing to hold in, so she was hardly going to wobble about and cause a scandal like Gloria Stevens, who’d been a stranger to corsets all her life.
She smiled at the thought of Gloria, who had the nerve not to care what people thought of her and carried on in her own brash way. It was lovely of Rosie to invite her tonight, and Peggy was glad they’d become friendlier since the incident of the soot fall, for she’d always secretly admired Gloria.
Peggy changed into clean underwear and pulled on her yellow linen dress which had short sleeves and a square neckline. Fastening the buttons down the front, she buckled the cloth belt and eyed her reflection in the wardrobe mirror. The dress was an old favourite and definitely showing its age now, but the colour cheered her up and was just right for a celebration.
Standing by the mirror, she brushed her thick, dark curly hair into neat waves, dabbed some powder on her nose and carefully eked out the last of her lipstick and mascara. Happy with the result, she clipped on the sparkling earrings she hadn’t been able to resist at a jumble sale and hunted out her one and only pair of low-heeled black shoes. They needed a bit of polish to hide the scuffs, and she’d have to have them resoled soon at the cobblers, but they would do for tonight.
She had one pair of decent stockings, but was saving those for the wedding, so she slipped her bare feet into the shoes, grabbed the evening bag that had done her such sterling service since the Christmas of 1932 and draped her gorgeous Indian silk stole over her shoulders. Jim had sent it as a Christmas present the first year he’d been abroad, and as she rarely went out, this was only the second time she’d worn it. Grinning with delight and eager for the evening to begin, she returned to the kitchen.
Coats, gloves and scarves were pulled on to ward off the bitter cold. Fran picked up the violin, and bottles and plates of sandwiches were gathered up amidst a great deal of chatter and laughter. Once they were all ready, they trooped out of the front door, none of them wanting to scuff their good shoes by going down the back alley.
Peggy held Daisy’s hand and went arm in arm with Cordelia whilst the four girls paired off and hurried on ahead with the food and drink. Danuta had promised to join them once she’d finished her district rounds, and Peggy could only surmise that she must have been held up by some emergency or other.
Rosie had taken her time dressing carefully for this special evening, and knew she looked very glamorous in the black velvet cocktail dress and high-heeled silver sandals. This was a night to celebrate, and she was determined to enjoy every last minute of it, which was why she’d closed the Anchor for the night and put a big notice on the door to that effect.
Now the fire was lit in the inglenook, sending the sweet scent of apple wood into the room. Sprays of holly and ivy had been entwined with tinsel into wreaths which hung from the sturdy beams, and candles flickered in glass jars on the mantelshelf. There were more candles on the linen-covered tables which had been pushed together to form a line from one end of the room to the other. The curtains had been drawn to add to the sense of cosiness, the old piano had been polished, and to complete the picture, Monty was sprawled in front of the hearth fast asleep.
Rosie turned to her barmaid Brenda and they clinked glasses. ‘Cheers, Brenda, I couldn’t have done all this on my own.’
‘Glad to help,’ she replied after taking a healthy slug of gin. ‘I must say, Rosie, it does all look lovely. I bet the stuffy old Officers’ Club won’t be half as nice.’
Rosie laughed. ‘I doubt any of them will notice. Men are terrible at that sort of thing at the best of times, and after a lot of beer they could be in a mineshaft for all they cared.’
‘I’ll just shoot upstairs and get changed,’ said Brenda. ‘Won’t be a tick.’
Rosie nodded, and as she waited for her guests to arrive, prowled around the room, admiring the way the horse brasses glinted in the candlelight, and how Monty’s brushed coat gleamed in the firelight. She felt calmer than she’d done in years, for within two days she would be Mrs Ronan Reilly and at the start of a whole new life. And it would be an exciting one, for she had plans to do a great many things once she’d sold the Anchor, and had even picked out the house she’d like to buy.
The only shadow marring her happiness was the fact she hadn’t seen Ron since yesterday afternoon, but she supposed he’d been busy at Beach View doing the last-minute jobs still on Peggy’s list. Still, it would have been helpful if he’d come to take Monty for his walks when she’d had so many things to do.
Her thoughts were broken by the arrival of the Beach View girls, who were soon followed by Peggy, Cordelia and Daisy. She hurried to greet them with kisses and hugs, and made a huge fuss of Daisy who was looking very sweet in her lovely new outfit.
The first round of drinks had been poured when Brenda came downstairs looking quite youthfully carefree in a pink frilly blouse and navy skirt to join in the fun as she wasn’t serving behind the bar tonight; and then Madge turned up looking very glamorous in a dark green dress, wielding a huge bottle of gin courtesy of Solly, and a cake from the bakery.
Doris arrived at the same time as Peggy’s sister-in-law, Pauline. They studiously ignored each other as they greeted Rosie, handed over their offerings and then promptly chose to sit at opposite ends of the table. Rosie was sad to see this for Peggy’s sake, but there was nothing much she could do about it except hope the alcohol loosened them up enough to at least talk to one another – but not enough to have them falling out. She didn’t want them to ruin Peggy’s rare night off.
Alf’s wife came in with Fred’s Lil; Danuta rushed in having finished her district rounds and quickly gone home to change into a pretty white blouse and pleated skirt. She was swiftly followed by Stan’s niece April, and Ruby.
‘Oh, Ruby, April,’ cried Peggy. ‘It’s so lovely to see you both.’ She hugged the girls who’d once been her evacuees, and regarded them with deep affection.
‘What have you done with little Paula?’ Rosie asked April. ‘She could have stayed here, you know.’
‘That’s really kind, Rosie, but Vera Gardener’s looking after her, bless her. I don’t know how I’d cope without her, to be honest.’
Peggy smiled. ‘I told you when you first went for that interview at the telephone exchange that her bark was worse than her bite,’ she said warmly. ‘Being on her own now that revolting dog has gone, I expect she’s very happy to mind little Paula.’
Rosie turned to Ruby, who was looking quite stunning in a simple dark blue dress. ‘How’s your Mike doing up there in the wilds of Scotland?’
‘Getting very bored, but that could all change if he’s sent home to Canada.’ She gave a small sigh. ‘It’s what we’ve both been dreading, and of course I don’t want ’im to go, but anything ’as to be better than watching puffins and gulls all day, I s’pose.’
‘Oh, Ruby, I am sorry,’ murmured Rosie.
‘It ain’t all doom and gloom,’ the girl replied, ‘’cos once this war’s over, he’s coming back for us to get married.’
‘How exciting,’ said Rosie. ‘So you’ll be moving to Canada with him, then?’
‘I’m willing to give it a go,’ Ruby said brightly. ‘At least there, I won’t have to worry about me rotten mum turning up on the doorstep to cause trouble.’
Rosie patted her arm, thinking of the ghastly Ethel who’d spitefully pinched her letter to Ron and was now serving a prison sentence for stealing from the Red Cross. In her opinion, the further Ruby went from her mother, the better.
At that moment the door crashed open and Gloria Stevens made her entrance, holding aloft two bottles of champagne. She had some holly pinned in her peroxided hair, jewellery jangling, bosom and hips quivering beneath a very tight, short red dress.
‘Wotcha, Rosie, gel,’ she yelled. ‘You can get this party going proper now I’m here.’ She came down the step and nearly sprained her ankle in her high heels.
Rosie almost burst out laughing as all conversation stopped and everyone held their breath to look at her and see how she’d react. She had only told Peggy she’d invited Gloria, wanting it to be a surprise – and most clearly, it had been.
Without missing a beat, Rosie hurried towards Gloria and relieved her of the champagne before she dropped it. ‘Glad you could make it, Glo,’ she giggled, grabbing her around the waist to stop her toppling over. ‘It looks like you’ve been having your own party. Steady the Buffs, girl, we’ve got a long way to go yet.’
Gloria shot her a sloppy grin and, before Rosie could stop her, plumped down next to Doris, who shrank away, pursing her lips.
‘Blimey,’ said Gloria, breathing gin fumes and cigarette smoke over Doris as she peered at her more closely. ‘You made yer mouth look like a tight bumhole. Swallowed a wasp, ’ave yer?’
Doris went puce as Gloria screeched with laughter at her own joke and everyone else collapsed into helpless giggles.
Rosie quickly steered Gloria away from Doris and sat her between Ruby and Ivy who’d also come from the East End and welcomed her gladly. ‘Try and behave, Glo,’ she said through her giggles. ‘Not everyone appreciates your sense of humour.’
Gloria knocked back half of someone else’s gin and winked. ‘I always said you and Ron were made for each other,’ she slurred, raising the glass. ‘The best woman won, Rosie. Here’s to yer, gel.’
Rosie didn’t point out that it had always been a one-woman contest. Raising her own glass, she downed it in one. This could turn out to be quite a night.