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Authors: Catrin Collier
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self-reliance. He would ask Bethan to organise that party. It might be as well to remind Evan Powell that he held his will, and perhaps add a letter to tell Alma all the things he couldn’t bring himself to say to her face.
Chapter Four
‘Someone take him from me.’ The dome of the warden’s tin hat appeared above the hole that hid the cellar steps. He handed out a blackened, dust-encrusted shawl, a shawl Haydn recognised. It moved, and the cry came again, thin, weak and wailing. Haydn stumbled over the wreckage and grabbed the baby.
‘It’s a her, not a him.’
‘Reckon she knows her father.’ The warden smiled in relief as he relinquished his hold on Anne. He rarely pulled live victims from the wreckage wrought by the blitz, especially babies. Haydn unwrapped his daughter gently and carefully, checking every limb and inch of skin as he brushed clumps of black mortar from her hair and face.
‘My wife?’ Haydn’s voice sounded strange. Hoarse and rusty as though he hadn’t used it in years.
‘There’s two women close by.’
‘Are they alive?’
‘Can’t tell yet, lad.’
Haydn knew from the tone of the warden’s voice that they weren’t.
‘Take care of the little one while we get them out. There should be powdered milk and nappies down at the centre.’
Haydn rose to his feet just as the cockney ‘helper’ dragged a second lifeless body to the surface.
‘Jane!’ The anguished cry turned to a sob. He clutched Anne tightly, before realising that the woman was too old and too fat to be Jane.
‘This your wife?’
Haydn shook his head. ‘Mrs Collins from downstairs.’
‘Can you give us an idea of how many were down here?’
‘There were twelve flats in the building. We didn’t know everyone.’
‘Hazard a guess?’ the warden pressed impatiently.
‘The last time I was home during a raid there were twenty people in the cellar.’
‘Keep looking, boys.’
‘I’ve picked up on a voice over here,’ the Cockney shouted.
Anne began to cry but Haydn remained rooted to the spot. Rocking his daughter in his arms he watched the senior warden climb to the surface and tie a rope around his waist.
‘When I tug the rope twice, pull me back, but mind you do it slowly,’ he warned the cockney before lowering himself down the hole again. Haydn was aware of the blood rushing to his head and his heart thundering erratically against his ribcage. A shout came from below. He stepped forward, someone – he didn’t notice who took Anne from him. He turned to see a VAD standing behind him.
‘The baby’s dehydrated, we have to get her to the first-aid post.’
‘Please, can you hold on for just two minutes, I’m waiting for them to bring out my wife.’
The nurse took Anne out of the shadow of the crumbling walls into the comparative safety of the street.
Haydn watched her go but his attention remained riveted on the rubble around the hole. The tin hat appeared again, and Haydn saw that the warden was carrying a woman over his shoulder. A woman in a dark skirt and light blouse.
‘Jane?’ He knelt beside them.
‘Go easy, lad. She’s alive, but she’s in shock and she may be hurt.’
Haydn cradled Jane in his arms as the warden heaved her to the surface. Her eyes flickered as she closed them against the strong afternoon sunlight.
‘Anne?’ she pleaded urgently.
‘She’s here, she’s fine.’
‘I told you we would be, didn’t I? My handbag?’
‘I’ve got it.’ The warden pushed it into her hand.
‘I’ve saved the ration books, and the bank book.’ Dazed she opened her eyes and looked around the ruins of the block. ‘We’ve lost everything …’
‘Nothing that can’t be replaced,’ Haydn reassured, holding her close.
‘Best get her and the little one down to the centre as quick as you can, lad.’
Haydn lifted Jane high in his arms, picking his way cautiously over the debris into the street, before stopping and turning back. ‘I can’t thank you enough.
Chapter Four
‘Someone take him from me.’ The dome of the warden’s tin hat appeared above the hole that hid the cellar steps. He handed out a blackened, dust-encrusted shawl, a shawl Haydn recognised. It moved, and the cry came again, thin, weak and wailing. Haydn stumbled over the wreckage and grabbed the baby.
‘It’s a her, not a him.’
‘Reckon she knows her father.’ The warden smiled in relief as he relinquished his hold on Anne. He rarely pulled live victims from the wreckage wrought by the blitz, especially babies. Haydn unwrapped his daughter gently and carefully, checking every limb and inch of skin as he brushed clumps of black mortar from her hair and face.
‘My wife?’ Haydn’s voice sounded strange. Hoarse and rusty as though he hadn’t used it in years.
‘There’s two women close by.’
‘Are they alive?’
‘Can’t tell yet, lad.’
Haydn knew from the tone of the warden’s voice that they weren’t.
‘Take care of the little one while we get them out. There should be powdered milk and nappies down at the centre.’
Haydn rose to his feet just as the cockney ‘helper’ dragged a second lifeless body to the surface.
‘Jane!’ The anguished cry turned to a sob. He clutched Anne tightly, before realising that the woman was too old and too fat to be Jane.
‘This your wife?’
Haydn shook his head. ‘Mrs Collins from downstairs.’
‘Can you give us an idea of how many were down here?’
‘There were twelve flats in the building. We didn’t know everyone.’
‘Hazard a guess?’ the warden pressed impatiently.
‘The last time I was home during a raid there were twenty people in the cellar.’
‘Keep looking, boys.’
‘I’ve picked up on a voice over here,’ the Cockney shouted.
Anne began to cry but Haydn remained rooted to the spot. Rocking his daughter in his arms he watched the senior warden climb to the surface and tie a rope around his waist.
‘When I tug the rope twice, pull me back, but mind you do it slowly,’ he warned the cockney before lowering himself down the hole again. Haydn was aware of the blood rushing to his head and his heart thundering erratically against his ribcage. A shout came from below. He stepped forward, someone – he didn’t notice who took Anne from him. He turned to see a VAD standing behind him.
‘The baby’s dehydrated, we have to get her to the first-aid post.’
‘Please, can you hold on for just two minutes, I’m waiting for them to bring out my wife.’
The nurse took Anne out of the shadow of the crumbling walls into the comparative safety of the street.
Haydn watched her go but his attention remained riveted on the rubble around the hole. The tin hat appeared again, and Haydn saw that the warden was carrying a woman over his shoulder. A woman in a dark skirt and light blouse.
‘Jane?’ He knelt beside them.
‘Go easy, lad. She’s alive, but she’s in shock and she may be hurt.’
Haydn cradled Jane in his arms as the warden heaved her to the surface. Her eyes flickered as she closed them against the strong afternoon sunlight.
‘Anne?’ she pleaded urgently.
‘She’s here, she’s fine.’
‘I told you we would be, didn’t I? My handbag?’
‘I’ve got it.’ The warden pushed it into her hand.
‘I’ve saved the ration books, and the bank book.’ Dazed she opened her eyes and looked around the ruins of the block. ‘We’ve lost everything …’
‘Nothing that can’t be replaced,’ Haydn reassured, holding her close.
‘Best get her and the little one down to the centre as quick as you can, lad.’
Haydn lifted Jane high in his arms, picking his way cautiously over the debris into the street, before stopping and turning back. ‘I can’t thank you enough.
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