The explosions began. The nightmare returned. It didn’t seem real. The blasts were more distant than last night’s, but the thumps and crumps of falling bombs terrified Eve nonetheless. She had witnessed their destruction. She couldn’t breathe. She had to get out!
She couldn’t get out.
As the other servants talked softly, she tried to gauge how far away the blasts were. What the targets might be. Which part of London was getting the worst of it. It sounded like the East End. Again. She tried to draw deep breaths but couldn’t. A heavy weight sat on her chest.
Hours passed and nothing changed. Eve sat in the shelter with her mum throughout another long night as the ground shuddered and London burned. She prayed for Iris and her family. She prayed she and Mum would survive another endless night.
13
WELLINGFORD HALL, NOVEMBER 1940
The telephone awakened Audrey just after dawn, jangling its dire alarm. She grabbed her robe and stuffed her arms into the sleeves as she hurried downstairs. Robbins answered it, and he held out the receiver to her. “It’s the vicar, Miss Audrey.”
“Hello, Rev. Hamlin. This is Audrey.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Clarkson, but there was a horrific bombing raid on the city of Coventry last night. They’re asking for help. Will you come?”
Her heart thumped faster. She knew the vicar well enough to recognize the urgency in his voice. “Yes, of course. What can I do?”
“We need blankets. Food. Old bedsheets to tear into bandages. Clean drinking water.”
“Right. I’ll meet you at the church as quickly as I can.”
“And, Miss Clarkson . . . ?” he added before she rang off. “I’m told that Coventry is a scene from hell. Nazi planes bombed the city for eleven straight hours. Devastated it.”
“Oh, dear God . . .”
“They even destroyed Coventry Cathedral.”
Audrey closed her eyes. That beautiful fourteenth-century cathedral. Gone.
The vicar cleared his throat. “Everyone will understand if you stay here while we deliver aid to the survivors.”
“No,” she said. “No, I would like to help.” Eve had taught her to be courageous, forcing her to pilot the Rosamunde for the evacuation of Dunkirk, insisting she learn to drive a car. She could do this. She would do this.
Audrey ran up the stairs to her room to dress, praying for the people of Coventry, for the men and women who labored to help them. She’d learned to pray in the past few months as she’d become more involved in the village and in the life of the church. It was simple, really, the vicar said. A matter of talking to the Almighty and believing that He heard. That He cared. She’d also taken a first aid course to learn how to apply a tourniquet and administer basic medical help. Now, as she and one of the chambermaids gathered blankets and sheets from Wellingford’s bedrooms, then raided the linen cupboard for more, she thought of how different she was from the shy, tearful girl she’d once been.
Mrs. Smith and Robbins boxed up all the food they could find and filled spare containers with drinking water. George helped load everything into the car. “I would like to come with you, Miss Audrey,” he said. “They might need me to help dig . . . you know . . . for survivors.”
Audrey feared he was too old for such grim labor, but she wouldn’t deny his request. “Yes, of course, George. Put your shovel in the boot with the rest of the things.”
They stopped at the village church to pick up more supplies and volunteers. Then, with the car fully loaded, Audrey followed the vicar’s car across the tranquil countryside to Coventry. With such dire news these past weeks, Audrey wondered, at times, if England would survive. Italy had entered the war on the side of the Nazis. France had surrendered less than three weeks after the evacuation of Dunkirk. Nazi troops occupied Britain’s Channel Islands, a few miles away. Nearly all of Europe had been defeated. Eve’s letters detailed the ongoing fear and destruction in London as the Nazis bombarded the city night after night. Would anything be left?
Meanwhile, Audrey’s family was separated. Mother insisted on staying in London in spite of Audrey’s pleas. Alfie would be shipped out soon, traveling through U-boat-infested waters aboard a transport ship. Father was overseeing his factories in Manchester, with no plans to return to Wellingford. And Eve worked in London during the day and slept in a bomb shelter every night. Audrey longed to gather together all of the people she loved and stash them in the shelter George had dug in Wellingford’s back garden, but she couldn’t. They were all fighting this war in one way or another, and she wanted to help, too.