Chapter Twenty

It turned out Doctor Barnes had been right. Where she’d suffered some internal damage from the knife had indeed started bleeding a little. Fortunately, it hadn’t proved too difficult a job for the surgeon to perform the repair. As a result, and because she’d actually been a cooperative patient this time, Betty had been allowed to go home to finish her convalescence after two days’ bed rest in hospital.

After they’d got her settled on the sofa, Betty confided she was a good amateur actress and had acted her heart out so they’d allow her out as soon as possible. This caused Doris to fix her with a suspicious frown.

“Does this mean you’re not going to be a good patient?”

Betty shook her head and, when this failed to appease her American friend, elaborated. “Not this time,” she began, holding her side and wincing. “I’ve no idea what caused this, but I’ve had enough of being cut up, so I’ll try to take it easy for the two weeks they’ve told me to take off.”

“However…”

“However, nothing, Penny,” she answered with a smile. “I really, honestly don’t know what I did to cause this, but I will try to be careful. Okay with you—mum?”

Penny eventually smiled back. “Good enough. Now,” Penny said, getting to her feet, “I hate to love and leave you, but Ruth had invited us over before we knew you were coming home.”

Betty placed her hands by her sides and slowly levered herself up until she was more upright. “Then you must go. I’ll be quite all right.”

All three of her lodgers regarded Betty with skepticism. A knocking at the door came before anyone could say anything.

“Hold on,” Mary said, going to answer the door. “We can have an argument in a second.”

Her strange statement left the other three staring at each other, uncertain how to reply. Before anyone was able to figure anything out, Mary came back into the room. In her wake trailed Shirley. Somewhat atypical of late, the younger girl had a wide smile upon her face.

“Betty!” Carefully, Shirley knelt down at Betty’s side and slid her arms ever so gently around her shoulders. “I’d heard you were back. How are you feeling?”

“Much the better for being out, and for seeing you, my love.”

“Excellent,” Shirley told her, “as I’m going to be your nursemaid for the evening.”

“My what?” Betty stiffened at Shirley’s choice of words.

For once, Shirley didn’t bristle or cower back, but kept a hand resting on Betty’s upper arm when she released her from the headlock. “Perhaps not the right choice of words. What I meant, Betty, is I’m going to stay with you whilst everyone goes around to Ruth’s. I think Lawrence will be very pleased to see you, Mary,” she stated. “Apparently Grace is a bit of a hard taskmaster. He hasn’t been taking it as easy as he should have. Something about going out for too many walks, when he should be resting a little more.”

Mary’s ears went a little red. “Perhaps I’m to blame there. I could see how bored he was getting at Ruth’s, so I suggested we just take walks up and down the riverbank.”

“You’re in luck. Grace left after checking him over, so you can go around without her giving you a rollicking.”

Upon seeing the very obvious expression of want upon Mary’s face, Betty began to laugh and immediately winced and placed a hand over her stomach.

“Come on,” Penny declared, taking hold of her friends’ hands and dragging Mary and Doris to the door, before turning back and kissing Shirley on the cheek. “Let’s leave before we cause Betty more pain. Thanks so much, Shirley, but are you sure about this? We know we haven’t spent much time with you lately.”

As Shirley took a seat on the edge of the sofa, Betty told them, “You leave our Shirley to me. I’ll bore the pants off her. Before she knows it, she’ll be begging me to let her join you lot.”

Leaving their two friends at the beginning of an argument on how long it would be before Shirley wanted to put a pillow over Betty’s face, the three girls went out the front door. As they strolled arm in arm the short way along the riverbank, keeping a close eye on where they stepped in the darkness, they caught sight of the odd bat flitting along the surface of the river Hamble, catching an early evening meal of flies and, generally, having a good time. The quiet was so all pervading, none of the three wanted to say anything, as it would spoil the illusion of a world at peace.

When they arrived at Ruth’s, they saw a note pinned to the front door—Out Back. Come Through. Opening the side gate, the three made their way into the back garden to find Lawrence stretched out on what looked like a tartan rug, an open bottle of beer clutched in his good hand. Sitting beside him on a cushion was Ruth, and the two appeared to be in the middle of a good-natured argument, Lawrence barely missed a beat as Mary lay down beside her boyfriend, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I don’t want to leave the police, Ruth. I know I voiced my reservations when I turned up, but can we please drop the subject?”

Ruth accepted a greeting kiss from both Doris and Penny as they each took a place on another rug obviously set up ready for them, before replying, “As we now have company, yes. However, don’t think I’ll stop trying.”

“Stop trying, what?” Mary asked. Her voice being slightly muffled as she was busy nuzzling her way into the crook of Lawrence’s neck.

“My good Aunty Ruth thinks being in the police is too dangerous.”

“In relation to what?” Mary wanted to know, as she settled in with a contented sigh.

Doris placed her bottle of Guinness at her feet. “She’s got a point there, Ruth. When it comes down to it, pretty much any job at the moment could be considered dangerous.”

Lawrence used his good hand—the bad one was around the shoulders of his girlfriend—to raise his bottle. “Good point, Doris. If you’d come around a bit earlier, you’d have saved me a lot of grief.”

“Not necessarily,” Ruth said, shaking her head. “I still wish you could find a safer job.”

“Who wants a safer job?” Unseen or heard, Walter had crept into their midst.

“Walter!” squealed Doris, getting to her feet and flinging her arms around his neck. “I thought you were on duty tonight.”

Planting a huge smacker on her lips, Walter glanced at the watch on his wrist. “I have to be at the village hall in about a quarter of an hour, but I wanted to pop my head in to say hello first.”

“It’s not fair you have to go on patrol again tonight,” Doris pouted.

With perfect timing, Bobby crawled sleepily out of his wooden doghouse at the end of the garden. After stretching as only a dog can, he gave a shake of his head and trotted over to sit at Ruth’s feet. Tail wagging like crazy, he bobbed his head seemingly in the direction of her bottle and then back up at his mistress.

“Shall I get him a saucer?” Penny asked.

“Don’t give him too much,” Ruth told her.

As Penny knelt down and was about to pour the cocker spaniel his beer, the wind picked up, and with it, Bobby’s ears. His head jerked around and around until settling in the direction of the Solent. Before anyone could comment on his strange behavior, his hackles rose, and Bobby began to bark as if his life depended upon it. About half a minute later, the almost inaudible sound of multiple air raid sirens came wafting into the garden. Everyone shot to their feet, and all eyes automatically turned to check the blackout on Ruth’s cottage was correctly in place, and then they stood stock still and listened.

Penny was the first to break the silence. “I don’t think it’s us.”

After a few moments, Walter added, “Portsmouth. I think the bastards are hitting Portsmouth.”

As soon as he’d finished speaking, they all heard the ominous thrum-thrum from the engines of the approaching Nazi bombers. Looking up, they could even see the odd outline of them as they passed high overhead.

“Cheeky buggers,” Ruth declared. “They’re approaching from the north! They must have given Portsmouth a wide berth and then circled back.”

“Shouldn’t we take cover?” Mary suggested, clinging to Lawrence after she’d helped him get to his feet.

The searchlights over the city roughly twenty miles from Hamble now snapped on and began to sweep across the sky, searching, probing for the bombers and their cargoes of death. A moment later, the first anti-aircraft guns opened fire. Puffs of deadly white cotton wool appeared quite clearly in the dark satin sky. Unable to help themselves, the friends all stood and watched, offering up silent prayers for the inhabitants of the city fighting for its life. As the guns shot their shells into the sky, sending deadly shards of metal flying every which way, the first bombers began to unload their bombs. The clamor made it virtually impossible to tell the cause of each explosion, as everything merged into a cacophony, a symphony of death.

In unspoken unity, the friends stood in silent awe, Mary’s question forgotten. Everyone had, without being aware of it, taken someone’s hand.

“I think we’re as safe as we can be, but shouldn’t we be in the shelters?” said an unexpected voice in the dark, causing most everyone to jump.

“What the hell!”

“Language, please, Penny,” the voice of Betty said, and the owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows.

“Don’t blame me,” Shirley’s voice declared, taking up a place next to Doris and taking her hand. “When we heard the sirens, she insisted upon coming around.”

“And you didn’t stop her?” Walter said and was immediately swatted for his trouble by Doris.

“Have you ever tried to stop Betty doing something she wanted to do, once she’d set her mind on it?” Doris retorted.

“Good point,” her boyfriend admitted, then turned his head and told Bobby to be quiet. “Stop barking, Bobby. You’ve seen Betty before.”

“Don’t you think you’d better be off?” Mary ventured to Walter.

Even in the now almost total darkness, the whites of his eyes could be seen. “Christ! The sarge’ll kill me! Again!” Without another word, he kissed Doris on the lips, rammed his beret on his head, and took to his heels.

“Be careful!” Doris yelled after him as the back gate banged shut, whilst Bobby barked his farewell too.

“The shelter?” Betty asked again.

“I think we’re safe enough here,” Ruth replied.

As everyone grew silent once more, the attack on the city of Portsmouth reached a new height of intensity. Even from where they were, each of the friends was forced to clap their hands over their ears every now and again to protect their eardrums from the thump of the bombs and the crack of the defending British AA guns.

“They’ll be asking for blood tomorrow,” Betty muttered, gripping Ruth’s arm all the tighter.

“All they can get,” Ruth agreed.

Remorselessly, the glow of fires seemed to engulf the sky, as if the wounded city itself was trying to claw down the bombers who were inflicting so much pain upon it. Hypnotized by the sight of the sky aflame, not one of the group noticed the crump of the bombs was dying down, because the anti-aircraft fire had yet to slacken. Carried on the wind came the scent of the fire burning in the distance, a mixture of wood and something everyone wished they couldn’t place. A sweet, cloying aftertaste which made each of them retch and wish the wind weren’t so strong.

Betty turned her head away from the horrific sight, her stomach twitching in sympathy. Needing to see something other than the glow of the fire, she twisted her head and glanced up at the sky. What little cloud present was low, though broken and sparse. At first, she thought what she could see flitting low toward her was a moth, then a bat, yet the part of her mind trying not to deal with the horror her imagination was providing, knew neither of those had two engines nor flew as fast.

As it passed overhead, everyone had their eyes fixed upon what Betty now knew to be an enemy bomber. In fact, so low was it she could see it had its bomb bay doors open. Somebody, Betty wasn’t entirely certain who, barely had time to yell, “Take cover!” before an ear-splitting blast occurred, and everything went black.