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Authors: Ellie Dean
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her cheek. ‘I know, Stan, but it’ll all be worth the waiting. I promise.’
Stanley didn’t reply but just continued smoking his cigarette.
Julie closed her eyes and tried to shut out the crush of humanity around her, and the bangs and crumps overhead. She and Stan would be all right, she thought. They were just tired and out of sorts, and everyone had their ups and downs. They wouldn’t be normal if they didn’t.
The enemy raid seemed to go on and on, and Julie’s fear of being buried alive became almost too much to handle. She sat as close as she could to Stan, who’d managed, unbelievably, to fall asleep, and tried not to flinch or shiver every time a bomb went off, or the lights threatened to go out.
This was far worse than sitting it out under the stairs with Sadie and Val, for there had been no locked door barring her escape from the tenements. Now, in the bowels of the earth, she could feel the ground tremble under her feet, could hear the mortar shift and feel the dust drift down from the ceiling as the lights flickered and the walls shuddered. They were shut in here, with no avenue of escape. One direct hit, and it would all be over.
Julie determinedly pushed back these terrible thoughts and set her mind to the problems of her relationship with Stan. Perhaps she was wrong to wait – wrong to protect her virginity when all she really wanted was to make love to him – for she could die here tonight and never experience the mystery of all the things she’d read about and heard.
At last the raid ended, and within half an hour of the last enemy plane leaving, the all-clear went and the warden opened the door.
‘I’ve got to get back to the hostel,’ Julie said urgently to Stan, shaking him awake. ‘Will I see you on Wednesday?’
He slung his arm round her and gave her a hearty kiss as they shuffled along with the others towards the open doorway. ‘Wednesday it is,’ he murmured, ‘and I promise to be in a better mood, Jules.’
They emerged into a cold, damp night which seemed to be filled with smoke and ash and the ringing of ambulance and fire engine bells. It was after midnight, but the sky was orange with the reflection of the fires they could see raging near the docks and to the east, and evidence of bomb-blast could be seen in the shattered windows of the buildings opposite.
‘At least the Bull’s still standing,’ said Stan with a grin. ‘I’ll walk you back to the ’ostel and then pop in for a pint. I know it’s way past closing time, but the landlady keeps ’er side door open, and me throat’s as dry as chalk.’
Julie tucked her hand in his arm and they hurried down the road, dodging fallen masonry, raised paving stones and the vast jet of water that was coming from a broken main. The maintenance crews were already out in force, and Julie wondered if her dad was out in Stepney doing the same hasty repairs.
Stan wrapped his arms round her as they stood outside the hostel in the darkness. His kiss was warm and tender, his hug gentle. ‘See you Wednesday, gel,’ he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek, ‘and I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit . . .’ He grinned and shrugged. ‘Well, you know how it is, Jules.’
She gave him a light kiss on his lips and then nodded. ‘I do understand,’ she replied, ‘really I do.’ Not wanting to say anything that might lead him to believe she was beginning to soften to his persuasion, she turned away and hurried up the path to the front door. Blowing him a kiss, she slotted in her key and stepped into the hall.
‘Thank goodness you’re back,’ said a breathless Lily, who’d come racing out of the dining room. ‘There’s been a telephone call from Mrs Bessell. Franny’s gone into premature labour.’
Julie went cold. ‘Oh God,’ she breathed. ‘Did she call the ambulance?’
Lily nodded. ‘Franny was admitted over two hours ago and taken straight into surgery.’
Julie was already running up the stairs, peeling off
Stanley didn’t reply but just continued smoking his cigarette.
Julie closed her eyes and tried to shut out the crush of humanity around her, and the bangs and crumps overhead. She and Stan would be all right, she thought. They were just tired and out of sorts, and everyone had their ups and downs. They wouldn’t be normal if they didn’t.
The enemy raid seemed to go on and on, and Julie’s fear of being buried alive became almost too much to handle. She sat as close as she could to Stan, who’d managed, unbelievably, to fall asleep, and tried not to flinch or shiver every time a bomb went off, or the lights threatened to go out.
This was far worse than sitting it out under the stairs with Sadie and Val, for there had been no locked door barring her escape from the tenements. Now, in the bowels of the earth, she could feel the ground tremble under her feet, could hear the mortar shift and feel the dust drift down from the ceiling as the lights flickered and the walls shuddered. They were shut in here, with no avenue of escape. One direct hit, and it would all be over.
Julie determinedly pushed back these terrible thoughts and set her mind to the problems of her relationship with Stan. Perhaps she was wrong to wait – wrong to protect her virginity when all she really wanted was to make love to him – for she could die here tonight and never experience the mystery of all the things she’d read about and heard.
At last the raid ended, and within half an hour of the last enemy plane leaving, the all-clear went and the warden opened the door.
‘I’ve got to get back to the hostel,’ Julie said urgently to Stan, shaking him awake. ‘Will I see you on Wednesday?’
He slung his arm round her and gave her a hearty kiss as they shuffled along with the others towards the open doorway. ‘Wednesday it is,’ he murmured, ‘and I promise to be in a better mood, Jules.’
They emerged into a cold, damp night which seemed to be filled with smoke and ash and the ringing of ambulance and fire engine bells. It was after midnight, but the sky was orange with the reflection of the fires they could see raging near the docks and to the east, and evidence of bomb-blast could be seen in the shattered windows of the buildings opposite.
‘At least the Bull’s still standing,’ said Stan with a grin. ‘I’ll walk you back to the ’ostel and then pop in for a pint. I know it’s way past closing time, but the landlady keeps ’er side door open, and me throat’s as dry as chalk.’
Julie tucked her hand in his arm and they hurried down the road, dodging fallen masonry, raised paving stones and the vast jet of water that was coming from a broken main. The maintenance crews were already out in force, and Julie wondered if her dad was out in Stepney doing the same hasty repairs.
Stan wrapped his arms round her as they stood outside the hostel in the darkness. His kiss was warm and tender, his hug gentle. ‘See you Wednesday, gel,’ he murmured, his hand cupping her cheek, ‘and I’m sorry if I’ve been a bit . . .’ He grinned and shrugged. ‘Well, you know how it is, Jules.’
She gave him a light kiss on his lips and then nodded. ‘I do understand,’ she replied, ‘really I do.’ Not wanting to say anything that might lead him to believe she was beginning to soften to his persuasion, she turned away and hurried up the path to the front door. Blowing him a kiss, she slotted in her key and stepped into the hall.
‘Thank goodness you’re back,’ said a breathless Lily, who’d come racing out of the dining room. ‘There’s been a telephone call from Mrs Bessell. Franny’s gone into premature labour.’
Julie went cold. ‘Oh God,’ she breathed. ‘Did she call the ambulance?’
Lily nodded. ‘Franny was admitted over two hours ago and taken straight into surgery.’
Julie was already running up the stairs, peeling off
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