A single German aircraft dropped a bomb on the Whitehall Cinema in East Grinstead late in the afternoon of Friday, the ninth of July. Then the plane circled round, came back, and opened fire on the cinema with machine guns. Over eighty people were killed, including servicemen, women, and children. Among them was my friend Thelma Jenkins, together with her younger sister Elsie and their mother Ivy Ward.
I had thought I loathed Hitler before, but those feelings paled into insignificance now. And as for whoever had done it, I didn’t care that they were somebody’s brother or husband or son. I didn’t know it was possible to hate someone I had never met to such a degree.
Captain Davies was enormously kind. Fred looked distraught. When I protested that it couldn’t be true, he gently explained that the emergency services had found Thel’s National Fire Service ID on Friday night and traced her to Carlton Street station. They moved particularly fast for one of their own. Captain Davies didn’t want to tell us if there was a chance the information was wrong, so Roy had volunteered to go to East Grinstead and find out. Poor Roy, what a bloody awful job.
After they told me, I couldn’t think or even move. Disbelief wrapped itself around me like a blanket, but not a nice, comforting blanket. Instead it was one that was too tight, so that I couldn’t hear or see or understand what was going on. I couldn’t even breathe.
It didn’t last long, probably a few seconds.
“The children.”
It was a second, bigger wave, but now of pure panic, as I vaguely heard Captain Davies saying that he would do everything in his power to help. I fought through the fog.
“I need to tell Guy,” I said. “I have to… could someone take my shift, please?”
I was stammering but dragging myself into action. I had to get things ready for when Bunty and the children came home. I had to be ready.
“Don’t worry about your shift,” said Captain Davies. “Don’t think about the station. You’re going to be needed here.”
I looked at him as the truth began to sink in. “What do I say?” I whispered.
Captain Davies did not reply at first. Then he put his hand on my shoulder. “I have absolute faith in you,” he said, “and so would Thelma.”
I nearly crumbled when he said that. How quickly it had become would rather than does.
The captain must have been through this situation a hundred times, but I would never forget how kind he was. He had to return to the station, but Fred said he would stay until Guy got here. Fred and Roy had both been in the Fire Service for years, and had known Thelma for nearly as long.
There wasn’t much they hadn’t seen, especially during the Blitz, but it didn’t make it any easier. How much death were these men expected to be able to cope with?
I didn’t properly cry until Captain Davies left. Then I couldn’t stop. I sobbed and sobbed while Fred held on to me as if I was a child. He was as tough as they came, but there were tears rolling down his cheeks too. He insisted on phoning Guy for me, and Guy said he would come straight round. I wasn’t to worry, he said, Bunty and I would not be on our own.
I wasn’t worried about Bunty and me. I didn’t even think about Thel. Perhaps it was easier that way. I could hear myself asking Fred, “But what will I say? I don’t know what to say.”
Fred suggested putting the kettle on, so we went down to the kitchen, where I turned on the tap and splashed water all over my face, drying it quickly with a tea towel. My cheeks were hot, and as I tried to pull my thoughts together, I covered them with my hands, which were still stone cold.
“Don’t let me cry anymore,” I said to him. “I have to not look awful when they get home.” I checked my watch, trying to work out when Bunty and Harold were likely to be back. “If they watch the B-movie, the newsreel, the feature…” I added it all up. “She won’t keep them out after that, as they’ll need their tea. They must have that. Bread and jam, and Bunts was going to give them strawberries too.”
It felt hugely important that the children should be fed. Yesterday we had meals just like normal people, and nobody cared. Today feeding them felt like the most essential thing in the world.
I took out the notebook that was kept in the kitchen table drawer and began to write a shopping list for food.
“Does Thelma have any other family?” asked Fred, using the wrong tense.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “And Arthur’s an only child.” I looked up. “We have to let him know.”
“We can get word to him,” said Fred. “I can sort that out.”
My mind started to race. “Then there’s coroners and banks, and we have to tell the schools, and oh God, there’s everything for her mum and her sister as well.”
It was overwhelming.
“I tell you what,” said Fred, his brown eyes kind. “Let’s not think about any of that. None of it. All you need to think about is you, Bunty, and the kids. Everything else can wait.”
And so that became the plan. Everything else would wait. It felt as if my stomach had clenched itself into a fist. A huge, hard, immovable fist. I could convince myself that Thel was still just over at her mum’s house, but the thought of George, Marg, and Stan coming home scared me witless.
When Guy arrived, shocked and desperate to help, we worked out what we would do. I needed to tell Bunty the news on her own. When we heard them come in, I would go upstairs to my room, and Guy would tell her I had come home from my shift and ask her if she would head up to see me. Bunty would know something had happened, but with luck, the children would not notice. This would give us a little time.
It was horrible for Guy to have to put on a front with the children, but he told me not to worry about him. He would be fine. He looked awful.
“Don’t worry,” he insisted. “I’ve been in this kitchen enough times, I can sort things out if they’re hungry.”
I wished Charles was here, but thinking about him made me feel worse. Somehow it might not have been as horrible if he had been here. Or I would at least have felt less out of my depth. I missed him so much, it hurt. But then, so did everything.
Fred reluctantly left to return to the station as Guy and I talked about telling the schools and what would happen next. There was so much to take in. It was overwhelming. Thel, of course, but the children’s gran and their aunt as well. How could young heads cope with it all?
“Forget about the office,” said Guy. “I know there’s a lot going on, but none of it matters. Don’t think about anything. You have to look after yourself and the children.”
I nodded. It didn’t matter. Nothing did now.
At a quarter past five I decided to go upstairs, leaving Guy to pace up and down in the hallway, waiting for the front door to open. I pressed a cold, wet flannel to my face, hoping it would make me look better. But as I sat on the stairs and listened for the front door, hot tears kept coming.
Then I heard them. High-pitched chatter and the sound of Bunty laughing and saying, “I don’t know about that.” Then a sound of surprise as she must have seen Guy and a “Righto, is she unwell?” before she came up the stairs.
I got to my feet and went into my room. My heart doubled its speed. My throat felt dry, as if something was stuck. I tried to breathe properly as Bunty came in.
“Em?” she said.
Despite being adamant that I must not cry any more, the tears came faster. I put my arms around Bunty and hugged her as hard as I could. Not hugging, but hanging on to her, as if her arrival could make everything go away.
“What is it?” she whispered into my hair.
I pulled back and pushed the tears out of my eyes.
“Thel,” I said. “Bunty, it’s Thel.”