Gertie amazed herself by breaking into a run. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so alive. So free. Even more surprisingly, she didn’t feel the least bit afraid.
As she rounded the corner, Gertie could see the spire of St. Mark’s engulfed in a funnel of crimson and amber. She spotted two firemen and two wardens doing their best to get the fire under control. Gertie recognized one of them immediately.
“Betty!” she shouted.
“Mrs. B! What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for Hedy. She was at the cinema when the raid started.”
“I’m sure they’ll be in the public shelter. My friend Judy is a warden down there. I can try to find out what’s happened as soon as we’ve got this under control.”
“You shouldn’t be out of your shelter,” said the other warden to Gertie. “It’s not safe.”
“Let me help,” she said.
“Has this woman had any formal training?” he demanded.
Betty scowled. “No, but then you hadn’t either until two weeks ago, Bill.” She turned to Gertie. “How are you with a stirrup pump? We’ve got a spare but no one to man it.”
“Just show me what needs to be done,” said Gertie, rolling up her sleeves.
It was hard work, but whether it was through fury or determination, Gertie kept pumping until they managed to bring most of the fire under control. “Cor, I reckon we should recruit you into the service, lady,” said one of the firemen as they walked to the canteen where volunteers were serving hot tea and soup. “You’re more use than Bill, that’s for sure.”
Gertie accepted a tin mug of tea with gratitude. She cast around the crowd, desperately searching for Betty returning with news of Hedy. The faces surrounding her were etched with soot-caked exhaustion. Volunteers sat by the roadside, drinking tea and smoking. There was an eerie silence about the place as if the assembled company was in shock, absorbing the same thought: How much longer could they endure this?
“Mrs. B!” called a voice.
Gertie looked up, spotting two recognizable forms waving to her through the darkness. As they moved into the light, Gertie leapt to her feet.
“Look who I’ve found!” cried Betty.
When Gertie saw Hedy’s weary face, she was overcome. She darted forward, drawing her into a tight embrace as the realization hit. It was Gertie’s duty to protect this girl for her mother, to keep her safe. Nothing else mattered. She knew this now. “Are you all right, Gertie?” asked Hedy.
“I am now,” she said as they let go.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” said Hedy. “When the siren sounded we panicked and decided to walk back to Audrey’s house.”
“Oh my dear. Why didn’t you go to the shelter?”
Hedy looked sheepish. “I don’t know. I suppose we felt safer somehow.”
“Well, it was a jolly good job you did,” said Betty gravely. “There was a direct hit by the cinema. They’re digging for survivors now.”
Gertie and Hedy stared at one another as the realization of what might have been sank in. “Oh Gertie,” whispered Hedy.
Gertie put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “It’s all right,” she said. “You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
“Here you go, missus,” said a kindly fireman, appearing at her elbow and holding out a hip flask. “Have a drop of this.”
Gertie accepted, wincing against the sharp heat of alcohol. “Thank you,” she said, handing it back to him.
“Nothing worse than when you lose sight of one of your nippers, eh?” he said, smiling at them both.
Gertie was about to correct him, but he had already gone, heading off into the darkness to wherever he was needed next. She felt Hedy rest against her shoulder and instinctively drew her closer.
“The city’s getting a proper drubbing tonight,” said one of the wardens. They turned to stare at the scarlet sky, fiery orange fingertips reaching heavenward as if praying for salvation.
My beloved London, thought Gertie. How could they?
Hedy linked an arm through Gertie’s. “Let’s go home.”
“Shall I escort you?” asked Betty. “The bombers are concentrated over the city, but it’s still dangerous.”
“We’ll be fine, won’t we, Hedy?” said Gertie.
Hedy nodded. “We’ve got each other.”
The streets were eerily quiet except for one black cat out on a nighttime stroll. The wind had picked up and was whistling around their ears. Gertie pulled up the collar of her coat and glanced toward the sky. The familiar thrum and drone had begun again, but the planes were all heading in the opposite direction.
“They’ve done their worst and now they’re on their way,” she murmured as they turned onto the street adjacent to hers.
“Maybe they’ll sound the all clear soon,” said Hedy, casting her eyes heavenward. She froze. “Gertie, look out!”
As Gertie followed her gaze, the world seemed to slow as if they were moving through treacle. She saw the underside of a German plane, backlit by the moon, a monstrous vulture above their heads. As she watched it open its hatch and hurl out a bomb, she struggled to grasp the nightmarish reality of what was happening. Gertie was familiar with the whistle and scream as these horrors hurtled toward the earth. However, she wasn’t prepared for the silence. In the moment before the bomb struck, the world was muted. A split second. A gut instinct. Gertie grabbed Hedy and flung them both over the nearest garden wall, throwing herself on top of the girl in the process. She squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath. A heavy cracking thud. A heartbeat. Silence.
Gertie opened her eyes and hauled herself to a sitting position as Hedy uncurled beside her. They peered over the wall, blinking toward the large crater with its unexploded bomb poking out from the middle of it. A vast hissing monster.
“Are you all right, dear?” asked Gertie as they helped each other to their feet.
Hedy stared at her. “Yes. And you?”
“We’re alive!” cried Gertie, shaking her gently. “We’re alive, Hedy.” They fell into each other’s arms and wept for fear, for relief, for survival.
They were still clinging on to each other when the police arrived and began to evacuate the street. Shakily, Gertie and Hedy walked arm in arm, following the throng of people along the road back onto their own street. As the all clear sounded, the crowds echoed with a loud cheer.
“Gertie!” called Elizabeth, meeting them by their front gate with Billy and Hemingway in tow. “Are you all right?”
“Gertie Bingham and Hedy Fischer,” cried Billy with wide, excited eyes. “There’s an unexploded bomb on the next street.”
“I know, dear. It missed us by a whisker.”
“Gosh,” said Billy with even wider eyes.
“Thank goodness you’re both all right,” said Elizabeth with a look of relief. She turned to her son. “Come along, Billy. We must let Gertie and Hedy go inside and you need to get to bed. That’s quite enough drama for one night.” She gave a cheerful wave before they disappeared.