CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Claire arrived home soaked. ‘The bloody British summer!’ she mumbled, unlocking the door to the apartments. Dropping her shopping bag and gas mask on the floor of the entrance foyer, she wedged the door open with her foot and stuck her head out. Sheltering beneath the art deco portico, she collapsed the umbrella and shook off the excess rain. It had thrown it down for days, which had made trawling the empty shops for food even more miserable. As she stepped inside, letting the door swing shut behind her, she heard the discordant whine of the air raid siren. She turned and looked up at the sky. It was still light. The Luftwaffe had long since stopped waiting until it was dark to drop their bombs. The maxim now, it seemed, was anytime, anywhere. Grabbing her belongings, she ran across the foyer as the ack-ack of the anti-aircraft guns in Hyde Park began firing. Opening her apartment door, she put her shopping bag down and shrugged off her coat.
‘Coming, Dudley?’ Eddie shouted, as she and several tenants from flats on the upper floors ran past. Claire had no intention of going down to the shelter, but as she turned to close her door she saw Eddie leaning on the wall at the top of the basement stairs, swinging her gas mask nonchalantly.
‘On my way,’ Claire sighed. With her coat over her arm, she grabbed her own mask.
‘You won’t need your coat, darling, it’s like a sauna down there with all the hot water pipes.’
‘It’s wet. It will dry quicker in the basement than it will in my hall.’
Most people had taken a cup, a chair, and something to occupy themselves with – a book, board game or playing cards. Some had even left mattresses down there. The apartments’ oldest tenant, Mr Smallman, who held everyone’s spare keys, had appointed himself air raid warden. In charge of the tea and dried milk, he was already boiling the kettle.
Claire and Eddie sat down on a wooden bench with their backs to a panel of warm pipes. They were the only tenants who had not taken anything comfortable to sit on. Neither had been in residence for long enough at any one time to warrant it. There was a sudden muted rumble, followed by a deep boom, and instinctively they looked up. ‘The bombs are close tonight,’ someone said, to which Mr Smallman replied, ‘We’re safe enough down here.’
‘So how did it go with the colonel?’ Eddie whispered. Claire grimaced. ‘That bad, eh?’
She shrugged. When the old man shouted, ‘Tea up!’ Claire went over to where he was handing out hot drinks. She waited in the short queue until he had filled every cup, thanked him, and took hers and Eddie’s back to the bench.
‘I can tell by your face it didn’t go the way you’d hoped,’ Eddie said.
‘It didn’t, but I can’t tell you about it here. Come to mine when the raid’s over.’ Eddie nodded. When they had finished their drinks, Claire took their empty cups back to Mr Smallman who, after the first air raid, had taken on the job of washing the cups and keeping the basement tidy.
It was still early when the all-clear siren sounded and the old man boomed, ‘Air raid over!’ Above the clatter of scraping chairs and people gathering their belongings, Eddie and Claire made their escape.
Claire unlocked the door of her flat and after hanging up her coat, which was now dry, she went into the sitting room and dropped into the chair. Eddie followed and perched on the chair’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, Dudley. Is there anything I can do?’
Claire shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not, but thanks anyway, you’re a pal. Have you eaten?’
‘No, you?’
‘No.’ Claire pushed herself out of the chair and went to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make a sandwich. Tinned ham do?’
‘You certainly know how to spoil a girl, Dudley.’
Claire laughed. ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Pulling a silly face, Eddie pressed her lips together in a wide grin. ‘I’ll scrape the jelly stuff off and cover it with mustard and pickle – you’ll hardly taste the ham.’
While they ate, Claire told Eddie about the meeting she’d had with Colonel Smith that day. ‘The colonel has no objection to me going back to France. He said he needed me. Apparently, any day now, there’s going to be a massive push to drive the Germans out of France. Its codename is Operation Overlord, and the colonel said it’s going to be the biggest amphibious invasion since the war began. The Boche have been fed false intelligence,’ Claire said, excitedly. ‘They think the invasion is going to take place in Calais, but it’s actually going to happen all along the Normandy coastline. If everything goes to plan, which the colonel is confident it will, Hitler and his Nazis will be pushed out of Western Europe all the way back to Berlin.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘He made me see a psychiatrist who doesn’t deem me mentally or physically fit enough to go back into the field. Though what my physical fitness has to do with him I should like to know. In his opinion – and I quote – “I would not be happy if Miss Dudley returned to the stresses and dangers
