The blood-red glow of the night sky filled the girl with terror as she ran through the smoke-filled streets. The entire city of London seemed to have been razed to the ground in a matter of hours, taking with it every last man, woman and child as it burned. She rounded the corner and as her destination came into view, she felt her legs buckle as she took in the sight of the burning beacon of orange flame. Surrey Docks was gone.
Choking on the hot dust particles that flew through the air, she clamped a hand to her mouth and nose and tried to breathe. The heat was stifling and the air thick with fear. She couldn’t think as people with ash-encrusted faces rushed past her, desperately searching for safety or missing loved ones. Her gaze turned to the banks of the Thames river. She saw a crowd of people gathered on the edge, anxiety across their faces, all hoping their turn to be evacuated would come before the ground burned beneath their feet. She looked at the boats manned by volunteers. There was no fear in their eyes, just grim determination to ferry desperate souls across a river so tangerine in colour it looked as if the murky waters of the Thames themselves were aflame.
As she stood in the shadows of Silvertown she felt her resolve grow. She was here to help the Women’s Voluntary Service. She wouldn’t back out now, no matter how terrified she felt. For a moment she stood transfixed, watching smaller flames become larger, each one laying claim to more of the city she loved. The factories that lined the river from Tower Bridge to North Woolwich were all ablaze now making the riverbank look like one large ruby. Shuddering, she cast her gaze over the remains of the building that stood just yards away. She knew this would be Hitler’s greatest prize – the timber yards of Surrey Commercial Docks. These docks that nestled in a large loop of the Thames were Britain’s main timber importing centre and the perfect kindling to blazes so big she could see firemen in tears as they tried to control the inferno.
Watching the volunteers and fire officials confront the flames that tore through Russia, Greenland and Canada Yards, for a moment she felt her resolve weaken. Only hours earlier these warehouses had been packed to the rafters with vital foodstuffs for the war effort. The loss loomed large across the firemen’s faces as they battled the flames, only for every one they extinguished to be swiftly replaced by another.
At the sound of the frantic call of the ARP Warden’s whistle urging people to get indoors, she glanced up and saw the vapour trails of the RAF bombers doing battle with the German Heinkels. The rhythmic stab of gunfire echoed loudly above. It was the British answering the calls of the Germans’ endless stream of incendiaries whilst the scent of burning flesh and charred wood filled her senses.
Determination returned and she ran towards the job she had been trained for. Only as she gathered pace, she felt the hem of her dress catch under the heel of her boots. In her haste to get to the docks, she had forgotten the blue and cream crinoline gown she had worn especially for tonight. As she glanced down at the fabric singed and burned at the hem and torn at the sleeves, she laughed. This dress belonged to someone else in another lifetime. The thought surprised her. It was as though the life she had been living less than an hour ago belonged to someone else.
Was it really possible that up until this moment her world had centred around the Hammersmith Palais de Danse? Now, as chaos and destruction rained down around her, she knew everything had shifted. Things had changed since those first bombs dropped. This new way of life would see her and every other Briton she knew wage war with Germans on every front – nothing would get in their way.
Urging herself forwards, she pushed through the crowds but as she reached the WVS truck that was handing out tea and aid to volunteers alongside the wounded, her eyes came to rest on someone she hadn’t expected to see. Sensing her presence, he turned around and as they locked eyes, she felt a pang of fear. She thought he was at the Palais, where she had left him, dressed in his finest suit, looking the perfect gentleman. He’d had an important job to do. And yet here he was, standing before her in his volunteer fireman uniform battling the inferno. He smiled at her, his love radiating out like a guiding light.
She wasn’t sure if it was luck, happenstance or the fact she heard someone screaming her name, but something made her look away and up to the little office window on her left. Like everything around her it was engulfed in flames but she could make out a face pressed against the glass. She looked closely and a mixture of anger and fear coursed through her veins. What was he doing here? She watched his face contort with terror as the flames licked the window frame and she hesitated; a part of her wanted him to burn for what he had done. He didn’t deserve her help, he didn’t deserve anyone’s help. But then she became galvanised. She couldn’t stand by and do nothing, even if there was a part of her that might want to.
About to raise the alarm for help, she saw she was too late. A fireman was already rushing towards the burning building. He paused for a second in the doorway and her stomach dropped as she drank in the familiarity of his smile and the kindness in his eyes. Above the roar of the flames she shook her head and screamed, ‘Nooooo.’
But he said nothing. Instead he shot her the same familiar smile he had seconds earlier. And then, before she could stop him, he stepped inside the red-hot warehouse, risking his own life to save that of a man who didn’t deserve saving.