A pair of arms enfold her. The familiar brown wool suit. ‘I’m here, Ellie.’
Thomas taps George’s shoulder. ‘C’mon, b’y. There’s a cellar. We’ll be safe there.’
***
Ellie sits on a wooden crate packed with wine bottles beside a large beer cask. The cellar windows are blacked out and reinforced with a crisscross of masking tape, and a single electric bulb hangs from the ceiling, throwing an eerie yellow light over the round-bellied beer casks and wooden crates of wine and soft drinks. Others have found their way to the cellar as well, and they sit together in an uneasy silence, waiting for the all-clear.
Thomas nods at the crates. ‘We’re not goin’ to go thirsty, that’s for sure.’
George squints through his glasses at Thomas’s face, lit pale yellow by the electric light. ‘How did you know there was a cellar?’
‘I always makes it my business to check these things out. Just in case.’
‘Well, I’m very glad you did.’ Ellie shifts on the crate, away from a splinter pushing through her navy skirt. ‘I wouldn’t have wanted to be squeezing into the shelter up the road with everyone else.’
George removes his glasses and tugs the handkerchief out of his breast pocket. ‘I saw your friend Charlie,’ he says as he wipes a film of dust off his glasses. ‘He said to tell you he’d gone back to Filby early on the train.’ He tucks the handkerchief back in his pocket and pushes the glasses over his nose.
‘That’s not like Charlie. He’s one for a party.’
‘He asked about Ruthie.’
Thomas nods. ‘All right, then. I see.’ He looks at Ellie. ‘He liked your friend. He talked my ear off all about her for months. He kept looking for her at the dance halls every time we came to Norwich.’
Ellie presses her lips together, willing the sob that’s forming in her throat not to spring into life. If it does, she can’t trust herself not to stop crying. She’d thought she’d cried all the tears allotted to her body, but she was wrong. They were like a perpetual spring with a source that never dried up.
The ear-splitting wail of the all-clear slices through the heavy stillness of the December night. They rise and stretch, unfolding into the pale yellow light illuminating the cellar. The revellers pick their way over the crates and beer casks and make their way up the cellar steps.
Outside, a half-moon hangs like a Christmas bauble in the twinkling sky. George holds out his hand to Thomas. ‘Thanks for your help tonight.’ His breath forms into a cloud that sits on the cold air. ‘Will you get back to Filby okay?’
Thomas shakes George’s hand. ‘No problem, George, b’y. There’s always someone happy to give a soldier a lift.’ He looks at Ellie and touches his forehead in a mini-salute. ‘See you anon. Thanks for the dance.’
Ellie watches as Thomas walks down the street, his tall figure growing smaller, his outline growing fainter, until he melds into the black winter night.
Chapter 15
Tippy’s Tickle – 13 September 2001
The screen door from the yard into Ellie’s kitchen swings open and Becca bounds into the room, the great black bulk of Rupert at her heels. She runs over to Florie, who is drying the breakfast dishes at the sink, and gives her a hug. Scampering over to the table where Ellie and Sophie are drinking coffee, she hugs them both. She pulls out a chair and sits down beside Ellie.
‘Sam!’ Florie calls out. ‘Sam! Get that dog outta here! This place isn’t big enough for all of us!’
The door springs open and Sam strides in holding a bright pink school bag, his leather jacket replaced by a plaid flannel shirt and a jean jacket. ‘Rupert! Get out here, b’y!’ The dog lumbers across the linoleum floor, pausing for a pet on the head from Sam, then pads out of the door.
‘Jaysus God, Sam. I don’t even let my doxies in here,’ Florie says as she wipes the breakfast dishes dry by the sink. ‘They’ve got a right nice kennel behind the shop. Don’t know why you don’t do the same for that bear.’
‘Rupert’ll go into a kennel the day palm trees grow in Tippy’s Tickle, Florie. You might be all spit and vinegar, but Rupert knows you’re a soft touch. I found date-square crumbs on him the other day and Becca swore it wasn’t her.’
‘Well, one date square won’t hurt him. Look at the size of him.’
Sam hands the school bag to Becca and takes the cup of coffee Ellie offers him. Nodding at Sophie, he sets the mug on the table and bends to give Becca a kiss on her blonde head. ‘Be a good girl, honey,’ he says, signing to her. ‘Listen to Nanny, and show me what you learned at supper tonight, okay?’
‘You down at the store today, Sam?’ Ellie asks as he heads to the door.
‘No. Heading down to Gander to see what’s going on with the planes. Meeting up with Thor and Ace to move some supplies around to the legion hall and the gym for the CFAs. I’ll be back by supper.’
‘Could you ask about my flight, please?’ Sophie asks as she spreads thick purple blueberry jam on a warm scone. ‘BA101 going to JFK in New York.’
‘Can’t wait to get out of here, can you?’
Sophie blinks at Sam, the scone halfway to her mouth. ‘Well, I need to know when to get back to Gander. I’ve got a meeting—’
Sam jerks his head in an impatient nod. ‘Yes. You’re a high-flyer, we all know that.’
‘Come over here for supper, why don’t you, Sam?’ Florie says as she slides the final plate into the plate rack over the sink. ‘Doing macaroni and cheese tonight. There’ll be plenty.’
‘I’ll see how I go, Florie.’ The door slams shut behind him. ‘Don’t wait if I’m late. I’ll be back in time to put Becca to bed.’
***
‘That’s enough studying for today,’ Florie says as she stomps into the
