27

‘There’s water coming in,’ the children shrieked, waking everyone in Clemmie’s bungalow.

George came to with a start from where he’d been sitting on a dining chair, leaning on the dining table. He couldn’t believe he’d slept on, as his feet were covered in water. There were a good four inches of water in the room, which was rising at speed. ‘Climb onto the chairs,’ he shouted to the children, as Freda tried to rouse Bob from a deep sleep. Failing miserably, she lifted his feet so that they were on a wooden crate they’d been using to stand on, while painting the walls. He checked his watch; it was two o’clock in the morning.

‘Bob,’ Freda shouted in his ear as she shook his shoulder. ‘Bob, you need to wake up; there seems to be a flood. You will need to help George get the car working, so we can get to higher ground.’

‘The car’s done for. We couldn’t get it working last night and didn’t want to alarm you,’ Bob said, as he came to, before a fit of coughing stopped him speaking any more.

‘You mean we can’t drive away?’ Freda asked in alarm, knowing that her own car was out of action. ‘Come on, everyone, we’ll have to wade through the water to get up to the main road. Hopefully the rainwater will have drained away from there.’

‘I’m afraid it’s much worse than that,’ Clemmie said from where she was looking out of the window to the front of the house. ‘That is more than rainwater.’

George joined her as the children started to snivel. He sucked in his breath as he spotted the glasshouses belonging to the nurseries half under water, as were the caravans belonging to the fairground, which he could just see further over the fields. Reaching for his coat, he went to the front door. ‘I need to go out and see what’s happened. Can you all climb as high as you can, because when I open the door, more water is going to flood in.’

Jessie and Clemmie started to lift the children up onto the solid-oak dining table and turned to help Bob.

‘Get off with you. I’ll be helping George,’ he said between clearing his throat, while trying to catch his breath, before another fit of coughing overcame him.

‘No, Bob, I need you to stay here and look after everyone,’ George said, giving Freda a grim look. ‘Besides, Mum will have something to say if you go down with a cold.’

‘George is right; we need you here, Bob,’ Freda urged him as he tried to reach the door. ‘Come along, let me help you onto the table,’ she said, as Jessie took his other arm, and they manhandled him to where the children were huddled together.

‘Where will you sit, Mum?’ one of the children asked, on the verge of tears.

‘We’ll be in the kitchen, sitting on the draining board,’ Clemmie said, making them giggle, even though she could have sobbed her eyes out at the state of the home that she would be sharing with Jimmy and his children, once they were married.

‘It’ll be all right,’ Freda said, giving her arm a squeeze. ‘There’s nothing here we can’t clean up, once the water subsides. It’s best you don’t upset yourself in your condition.’

Clemmie gave a weak smile. ‘Perhaps it’s a sign that I shouldn’t be getting married?’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Freda laughed, even though she could have cried. She couldn’t help wondering if everyone back at Alexandra Road was safe; this reminded her of not knowing what was happening to her loved ones during the war. ‘Now, why don’t we help George out the front door, so he can see what’s going on out there. I only hope he doesn’t get swept away.’

‘I can help with that,’ Clemmie said, opening a cupboard below the kitchen sink. And she pulled out a washing line, still neatly bound in a cardboard band. ‘I picked it up in Woolies the other day, along with a packet of wooden pegs. Not that it’s the kind of weather to put the washing outside,’ she couldn’t help but giggle nervously. ‘We could tie one end to George and hold onto the other, so he doesn’t get lost in the floodwater.’

‘It’s not that deep,’ Jessie said.

‘Don’t you be so sure,’ Freda replied. ‘Have you ever been to the seaside and tried to walk out of the sea? Even a few inches of water can cause you to become disorientated; there’s a lot more than a few inches out there, and it seems as though it’s getting deeper,’ she said, looking out of the kitchen window.

To begin with, George objected to having a washing line tied around his waist, until he was shown the neat knots Freda tied, before challenging him to wriggle free. ‘If I learnt anything with the Girl Guides, it was how to tie a secure knot.’

‘But if the three of you hold onto the other end, you may be pulled into the water.’

‘We could tie the other end to the door knocker?’ Clemmie suggested.

‘It’s too weak,’ George said as he peered through the front-room window. ‘It will have to be one of the fence posts; there are some made of concrete that should hold up. Fetch your coats and we’ll get started.’

‘Best we don’t wear our coats, then we’ll have something warm to put on afterwards,’ Freda said. ‘We will stay warm if we keep moving.’ She wasn’t sure if this was true, but no one argued with her, as George opened the door, allowing a rush of water to enter the hall.

‘I’m not sure if this is a good idea,’ Jessie said, peering outside. ‘There are three steps down to the front path, so it is going to get even deeper.’

‘In for a penny,’ George said, as he held onto the side fence and tentatively stepped down until he was standing on the front path. Continuing to grip the side fence, he made his way to the gate and shouted behind him, ‘I need the other end of the line, so I can tie it to the post.’

‘I’ll go,’ Freda said, taking the end of the washing line from Clemmie and trying to ignore a flashback to her wedding day, when she had almost drowned in the Thames.

‘You’re not going on your own,’ Clemmie said, hanging onto the back of Freda’s cardigan.

‘And neither are you,’ Jessie said, as she hung onto Clemmie’s jumper and the three girls moved slowly towards George. The swirling water was around their waists, and it was hard for them to keep together, even though they were still in the small front garden. Between Freda and George, they secured the washing line and then the four of them pulled open the garden gate.

George reached inside the neck of his jumper and pulled out a torch. ‘I’m not sure how long this will last, so don’t panic if it goes out suddenly,’ he said, sounding more determined than he felt. ‘Turn your torches off, so we can conserve the battery power. We have the moonlight to see by,’ he added, looking up and thanking God at the same time.

The three girls huddled together as they watched the small beam of light start to move away from them. ‘Keep talking to us,’ Freda shouted.

‘I can’t think of anything to say,’ he called back.

‘Then sing us a song,’ Clemmie said. ‘What was that one you entertained us with at Christmas?’

‘As I walk along the Bois de Boulogne with an independent air . . .’

Freda and Clemmie joined in, ‘. . . he’s the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo.’

‘You’re bloody bonkers,’ Jessie said as they all started to laugh, until George shouted loud and clear, ‘Hey, you up there, what’s happening?’

The girls stopped laughing as they tried to listen. George had seen someone in the upstairs window of a house. As the girls hung on to the fence, trying hard to listen, they became aware that the water level was rising.

‘I can hardly keep my feet on the ground,’ Clemmie said, with panic in her voice.

‘Then both of you go back to the front door. I’ll wait here for George, in case he needs to be released from the washing line,’ Freda said, wishing she’d thought to bring a knife out with her, as her fingers felt so icy that she knew she’d have trouble undoing the knots.

As she watched, George started to retrace his steps and she pulled in the line, as she didn’t want him getting tangled. ‘What’s happening?’ she asked, once he was within a few feet of her.

‘The lady in the house down the road said that the Thames has breached its bank. Her husband has gone to help other householders; he didn’t realize anyone was currently living here, otherwise he’d have knocked on the door. They are telling people to go upstairs and try to stay warm and dry.’

Freda looked back at her drenched friend, shivering at the front door, and then at the little bungalow. ‘I’m afraid we may have a problem doing both those things,’ she said as her frozen fingers started to pick at the knots around George’s waist, which were now under water.

‘Hang on to the fence,’ George gasped, as he and Freda staggered back towards the front steps, where Jessie and Clemmie grabbed hold of them, before pushing open the door as they all fell inside.

‘I never thought we’d do it,’ Clemmie gasped as she stood in the thigh-high water. ‘Look how much it has risen.’

The door to the front room opened and Bob stood there, holding his chest as he started to cough. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Bob, you should have stayed out of the water,’ Freda said crossly. She didn’t like the pallor of his skin or the way beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead.

‘There’s hardly any point,’ he said as they all looked at the three scared children and the water starting to lick at the tabletop where they were huddled.

George was looking at the ceiling. We need to get as high as we can; the river has breached its bank. Do you have an entrance to your loft,’ he asked Clemmie, wishing the bungalow had a staircase that led into an attic.

‘It’s in the master bedroom through here,’ she said as the pair, followed by Freda, waded through the murky water to a door at the side of the room. A short hall led to two bedrooms and a boxroom. Clemmie opened the closest of the doors. ‘Oh no, look at my new bed,’ she cried out, as the double bed in the middle of the room stood there underwater. ‘And the beautiful wallpaper. Everyone has helped so much to get our home presentable before the wedding and now look . . .’

‘Don’t upset yourself; we can sort this all out later,’ George said, wondering if the foundations of the old building would survive. ‘For now, we need to get into the loft to escape the floodwater. Would you happen to have a ladder?’ he asked, wishing he’d brought his inside earlier and it wasn’t still lashed to the roof of his car.

‘It’s in the shed in the back garden; the ground is lower there than the front of the house, so we could have trouble getting out there, as the floodwater may well be over our heads.’

‘In that case we need to improvise. Let’s get the sodden mattress off the bed and prop the frame up against the wall. I can climb up it to open the hatch.’

‘I’ll climb up, I’m lighter than you,’ Freda said, once they’d pushed and shoved until the frame was in place. ‘Lean on the bed, so it doesn’t slip,’ she instructed as she pushed her feet into the springs and tentatively checked to see if it held her weight. She gave a big sigh of relief and started to climb, wondering if it would hold the two men, who were the heaviest of the group. As she neared the ceiling, she started to reach out with one hand until she could touch the square panel of wood that covered the loft entrance. ‘I need something to push it aside,’ she called down.

‘I’ll get the broom from the kitchen,’ Clemmie said and pushed her way through the water, causing waves to form.

‘Slowly,’ George instructed. ‘We don’t want the water to shift the bedstead, or Freda will come a cropper.’

As Freda clung to the bed frame, she could feel it starting to shift away from the wall. ‘Can you lean on it, please?’ she called down to George as Clemmie returned, holding the broom above her head, ready to pass to Freda.

‘Jimmy usually slides it to the left, if that helps?’ she called up.

Freda used the bristle end of the broom to poke at the wooden loft hatch and it slid easily to one side. After passing the broom down, she slowly climbed a little higher until her head and shoulders were above the ceiling and she could see into the loft. ‘This is better than I expected; we could be very comfortable up here until we are rescued. I imagined that we would need to balance between the beams, which could have been awkward for the children.’

‘My Jimmy wanted to board it out, so that we had plenty of storage,’ Clemmie said proudly. ‘But how will we get the children up here? I doubt they can climb up the bed frame.’

‘We need to bring the table in here and then, if two of us were in the loft, we could lift them easily between us,’ Freda suggested.

‘Even better if we could put a dining chair on top of the table,’ George suggested. ‘But what will we do with the children while we move the table in here?’

‘Gosh, this is harder than playing chess,’ Freda declared.

‘We can carry them into the kitchen and sit them on top of the draining board,’ Jessie said as she joined them. ‘I am worried about Bob, though, as he is shivering so much, and his cough is getting worse.’

‘Ah!’ Clemmie said as a thought came to her. ‘If you can make your way to the large wardrobe, George, I’ve stored spare sheets and blankets on the top shelf. There are some of Jimmy’s clothes in there as well, but they may already be wet.’

George waded over to the wardrobe and, with difficulty, pulled open the two doors. A shelf that ran the width of the wardrobe held a pile of dry sheets, blankets and towels, while the shelf below it had dry jumpers and a couple of shirts. ‘Everything is dry. I’ll bring them over to you to put in the loft,’ he called and, with Clemmie’s help, they were soon passed to Freda and deposited safely.

The sound of grunting preceded Bob and Jessie, pushing and pulling the dining table into the bedroom. ‘We had to bring it on its side, as it’s the only way we could get the wretched thing in here,’ Bob wheezed. ‘What’s the plan? For some reason Jessie has deposited her three kids in the sink and on the draining board.’

‘You’ll see,’ George said as he helped Jessie right the table and place it under the loft hatch.

‘I’ll fetch a chair,’ Clemmie said.

‘I’ll start fetching my kids,’ Jessie grinned. ‘They think it’s an adventure. I’m just glad I have them with me, as God knows what’s happening down my nan’s yard right now. I hope they are safe.’

Freda didn’t like to reply as she’d wondered the same; there must be a lot of people trying to stay alive right now.

They soon had the three children safely in the loft, with their mum encouraging them not to run about. ‘Now it is your turn, Bob,’ Freda said, as George and Clemmie helped him onto the table and then onto the chair balanced on top. ‘We will pull you up by your arms.’

‘And I’m behind shoving,’ George laughed.

‘I must look a right sight,’ Bob guffawed, before starting to cough again. ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said, seeing Freda’s concerned face. ‘I just need to warm up.’

‘You are next, Clemmie,’ George said, holding out his hands to help her.

‘Wait a minute,’ she said, wading away from them into the living room. She came back within minutes, carrying a bag above her head. ‘It’s the remains of the food we all brought with us, and there’s a full flask – it could be soup, it could be cocoa, but it’ll be filling all the same,’ she said, passing the items to George, before starting to climb up to the loft.

Once they were all safe, Freda closed the hatch and they sat on the floor, looking at each other. ‘Now what do we do?’ Clemmie asked.

‘First, we get out of our wet clothes,’ George said. ‘I’ll string a line between the beams up this end and hang up a sheet, so that we get changed in private,’ he continued, as he started to sort out who needed what.

There was laughing and joking as Bob appeared, wearing a jumper and a blanket as a sarong, and paraded up and down in front of them. The girls followed, wrapping flannelette sheets around themselves. ‘What about you, George?’ Clemmie asked, noticing there was only a small towel left. ‘That won’t protect your modesty.’

‘I’ll use the sheet that you all changed behind, but you’ll have to turn your backs while I undress.’

Once everyone was garbed in an array of dry items, Freda hung the wet clothing across the line. ‘I’m not sure they will dry, as it is so blooming cold,’ she said as her teeth started to chatter.

‘Here, drink this,’ Clemmie suggested, as she passed a tin cup containing warm cocoa. ‘It’s all right, I have more cups,’ she said, pointing into the bag. ‘I made a quick sweep of the living room and kitchen to see what we could bring up here. ‘The children will have to share, though,’ she added, giving them a smile. ‘You’ve all been so good that I have a special present for each of you,’ she said, reaching into the bag and pulling out a small bag of toffees. ‘I had them in the kitchen for Jimmy; they are his favourites,’ she went on, as she gave one each to the children and their eyes lit up. ‘You can have another one later.’

‘Thank you,’ Jessie said as the children also mouthed their thanks. ‘You’ve all been so kind to us.’

‘I have one question,’ Freda asked. ‘How can we be rescued, if no one knows we are here and we can’t see out?’