wasn’t your job. It was everyone’s job.
At last the terrible work was over. Firemen had come and gone, ambulances had taken the injured away to the hospital. The rubble still filled the playground where small children
had played hopscotch and fivestones, and would have to be left until there was time to deal with it. But as far as anyone could tell, there was no one left under the chaos of smashed masonry and torn beams. No one alive, anyway.
Eleven dead. Eleven people who had been fit and healthy but for one reason or another not expected to fight — men too old or too young, women who had been glad to offer their
time. Eleven people who had left their homes that afternoon expecting to be home in time for supper and would never go home again.
‘One of them was the Superintendent,’ Frank told Jess when he finally came in through the front door to find her
sitting doing nothing, with Rose now asleep in his chair. ‘And there was others hurt, some of ‘em aren’t going to live, you could tell that.’ He shuddered a little, thinking of the injuries, things that ought never to happen to human bodies. ‘And all the time I was thinking about you and the kids and wondering what was going on up here. I couldn’t tell where all the explosions were coming from, and no one seemed to know anything. It seemed as if the whole city had been smashed to bits. And the sky was so full of smoke and flames, I thought they’d set light to whatever was left anyway.’
‘I know.’ Jess held him tightly, not caring that his clothes were filthy, that his hair was full of dust and plaster. ‘We could see it from here. Whatever was it? Someone said it was one of the ships in the Yard on fire.’
Frank shook his head. ‘There might’ve been some ships hit, I dunno. But the fire came from the gasholder at Rudmore. A bomb fell right inside. It wasn’t full, one of the firemen who came to Drayton told me that. It could’ve been nasty, all the same, if they hadn’t got it under control so quick.’ He sat down wearily at the table and leant his head on his hands. ‘Thank God you’re all right, Jess. All the way home, I was thinking what it’d be like to turn the corner and see number 14 just a mass of rubble. There’s a whole row in Portchester Road, with hardly a slate left and all their windows out. And houses in Farlington Road they’ll never be able to patch up, almost nothing left of them, bricks and stuff all over the place. And the Blue Anchor’s gone, and half a dozen houses and a garage in Gamble Road. And that’s just around this part of Pompey. God knows what the rest of the city’s like.’
Henry, the big tabby cat, got up from the rag rug and came over to lay a paw on Frank’s knee. Frank reached down and pulled the cat on to his lap and Henry purred and rubbed his
head against the dirty shirt. He had spent the raid crouched
against the wall of the coalshed and had hardly left Jess’s side
since she had come back to the house.
‘Poor old chap,’ Frank said, scratching the hard, furry head. ‘You can’t understand it at all, can you.’
Jess went out to the scullery to make some more cocoa. As she came back into the room, she saw Rose stir and open her eyes. She saw her father and scrambled out of the chair to run to him and bury her face against his chest.
‘Rose Jess remonstrated. ‘Your father’s all dirty still.’
But Frank held his daughter’s head and his big hands
stroked her straight black hair. He looked down at her trembling body and Jess felt her own heart soften at the
expression on his face.
Frank wasn’t a man who was demonstrative towards his
children. He hadn’t had enough of that kind of loving in his own childhood to be able to pass it on. But she knew his heart was tender and that he longed to be able to cuddle them, or even to give them a casual pat, without feeling awkward. And, just occasionally, there were moments when his emotions overcame his reticence and he
At last the terrible work was over. Firemen had come and gone, ambulances had taken the injured away to the hospital. The rubble still filled the playground where small children
had played hopscotch and fivestones, and would have to be left until there was time to deal with it. But as far as anyone could tell, there was no one left under the chaos of smashed masonry and torn beams. No one alive, anyway.
Eleven dead. Eleven people who had been fit and healthy but for one reason or another not expected to fight — men too old or too young, women who had been glad to offer their
time. Eleven people who had left their homes that afternoon expecting to be home in time for supper and would never go home again.
‘One of them was the Superintendent,’ Frank told Jess when he finally came in through the front door to find her
sitting doing nothing, with Rose now asleep in his chair. ‘And there was others hurt, some of ‘em aren’t going to live, you could tell that.’ He shuddered a little, thinking of the injuries, things that ought never to happen to human bodies. ‘And all the time I was thinking about you and the kids and wondering what was going on up here. I couldn’t tell where all the explosions were coming from, and no one seemed to know anything. It seemed as if the whole city had been smashed to bits. And the sky was so full of smoke and flames, I thought they’d set light to whatever was left anyway.’
‘I know.’ Jess held him tightly, not caring that his clothes were filthy, that his hair was full of dust and plaster. ‘We could see it from here. Whatever was it? Someone said it was one of the ships in the Yard on fire.’
Frank shook his head. ‘There might’ve been some ships hit, I dunno. But the fire came from the gasholder at Rudmore. A bomb fell right inside. It wasn’t full, one of the firemen who came to Drayton told me that. It could’ve been nasty, all the same, if they hadn’t got it under control so quick.’ He sat down wearily at the table and leant his head on his hands. ‘Thank God you’re all right, Jess. All the way home, I was thinking what it’d be like to turn the corner and see number 14 just a mass of rubble. There’s a whole row in Portchester Road, with hardly a slate left and all their windows out. And houses in Farlington Road they’ll never be able to patch up, almost nothing left of them, bricks and stuff all over the place. And the Blue Anchor’s gone, and half a dozen houses and a garage in Gamble Road. And that’s just around this part of Pompey. God knows what the rest of the city’s like.’
Henry, the big tabby cat, got up from the rag rug and came over to lay a paw on Frank’s knee. Frank reached down and pulled the cat on to his lap and Henry purred and rubbed his
head against the dirty shirt. He had spent the raid crouched
against the wall of the coalshed and had hardly left Jess’s side
since she had come back to the house.
‘Poor old chap,’ Frank said, scratching the hard, furry head. ‘You can’t understand it at all, can you.’
Jess went out to the scullery to make some more cocoa. As she came back into the room, she saw Rose stir and open her eyes. She saw her father and scrambled out of the chair to run to him and bury her face against his chest.
‘Rose Jess remonstrated. ‘Your father’s all dirty still.’
But Frank held his daughter’s head and his big hands
stroked her straight black hair. He looked down at her trembling body and Jess felt her own heart soften at the
expression on his face.
Frank wasn’t a man who was demonstrative towards his
children. He hadn’t had enough of that kind of loving in his own childhood to be able to pass it on. But she knew his heart was tender and that he longed to be able to cuddle them, or even to give them a casual pat, without feeling awkward. And, just occasionally, there were moments when his emotions overcame his reticence and he
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