What We Did In The War: A gripping and timeless suspense novel full of twists by Jennie Walters

Author:Jennie Walters [Walters, Jennie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bloodhound Books - Historical Fiction
Published: 2024-03-12T00:00:00+00:00

‘Don’t ever pull a stunt like that again,’ the incident officer told Floss. ‘It’s a miracle you weren’t killed.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘You were jolly brave though.’

‘I’ll say,’ Claude put in. ‘A lot braver than us grown-ups.’

Which hurt a little, I must confess, because it had taken some courage for me to climb up there and see those awful things, and I had been warned specifically not to enter the building. And I was actually the one who’d pulled Claude out before it collapsed, so Floss and I had saved her life together. Still, Floss had been extraordinary, and no one could begrudge her the attention she was getting now: hot chocolate and custard creams from the WVS refreshment van, and the promise of a ride in a fire engine when things had calmed down. She and Claude were treated at the first aid post for the cuts on their hands and legs, and Claude was given a tot of brandy for the shock. The baby was jumping, apparently, but a nurse listened to its heartbeat through a trumpet, took Claude’s pulse and pronounced them both fine.

When she had gone away to attend to somebody else, I took Claude by the arm. ‘Let’s go. Quick, while no one’s looking.’

‘Why?’ she asked. ‘I’m enjoying sitting here. It’s a bit of life, isn’t it?’

Yet the knot of people that had gathered around Floss was growing larger and a man with a camera around his neck was positioning her for a photograph. ‘Do you want to end up with your picture in The Gazette?’ I hissed. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you a hot chocolate on the way back.’

She grumbled but let me usher her away, leaning on my arm as we started to walk along the river; I couldn’t face the hectic King’s Road after what we’d been through. The colour had come back to her cheeks but her hair was so grey with plaster dust, she looked like an old woman.

‘That’s the second time I’ve almost had it,’ she said, as we sat on a bench midway home. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t push my luck. The maternity home might take me in now if I ask them nicely.’

‘Could you bear it though? Two months of chores and begging for forgiveness?’

She sighed, cradling her stomach. ‘I might have to put up with that. You know, I was absolutely terrified back there, simply paralysed with fear. I’ve never felt anything like it. But I was frightened for the baby, not myself. I suppose that’s what being a mother is all about: one’s priorities change.’

‘Possibly.’ But I only had experience of my own mother to contribute and I’m not sure she ever felt that way about me.

We sat for a while in silence, watching the murky Thames flow past. It had recently occurred to me too that staying in London, no matter what, might have been foolish. Where could we go though? There might have been fewer bombs in the country but everyone knew each other’s business and a couple of women like us were bound to attract attention.

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