A Strong Hand to Hold. Anne Bennett
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she’ll be in there hours yet,’ he said. ‘Honest to God we can do nothing more, and when she is eventually rescued, then she’ll need you.’ Maureen knew Gerry was right; she was too tired to think straight or be any bloody use to anyone. She doubted she’d sleep, but even to rest in the warm would be nice. Gerry put his arm around her and led her away.
Willing hands took the places of those who dropped out as the night wore on. The tale of the child who lay buried under tons of rubble and the girl not much older who’d crawled in to give her comfort, had spread like wildfire across the estate, and people came from all over to lend a hand. It was heartening, Maureen thought as she made her way home, in a world where values and common decency seemed to have been turned on their heads.
In the tunnel the going was tough. Conscious of the needle in her breast pocket, Jenny tried to keep her upper body raised as much as possible, but that meant the water bottle dragged on the roof. Occasionally, it got stuck altogether and she would have to hunker down and wriggle free, hurting her face again. But though she felt the water bottle to be an encumbrance, she knew it was vital; she dreaded puncturing it and seeing the precious water trickle away.
The blanket hampered her progress considerably, it kept getting stuck on things and had to be shaken loose – not an easy task in such a small space. Jenny wished many times she could leave it behind, but knew she couldn’t; she knew they’d need it, Linda was probably near frozen stiff already.
When she eventually reached the slit in the top of the piece of wood blocking off the pantry, she knew she couldn’t struggle through it this time. Not only was she wearing more and thicker clothes, there was also the morphine syringe that she couldn’t risk breaking; nor did she want the biscuits to be reduced to useless crumbs.
She called out reassuringly to Linda as she unstrapped the water bottle and the blanket and pushed them through the small gap. There was no answer. Jenny hoped she hadn’t dropped into unconsciousness.
Impatiently, she set to examine the wood. Surely there was some way of enlarging the gap? She swung the flashlight around. The wood was balanced on one side on a heap of bricks: if she could kick them away, the wood could drop another twelve inches or so. It would be enough for her to get into the pantry where Linda lay. But had she the courage to do so? Because to move anything was extremely dicey.
But then, she thought, what choice did she have? She might as well have stayed in front of her gran’s fire all night otherwise. Gently she scraped away at the powdery gravel around the bricks, and then began to push at them one by one. They seemed wedged fast: Jenny had to exert more and more pressure. Eventually, she braced herself against the wall and pushed hard with her feet. At first they moved slowly and then suddenly they came out in a rush. There was a terrific roaring above Jenny’s head as a beam fell, glancing off her shoulder and causing her to cry out, and a pile of masonry, broken pieces of plaster and charred timbers fell and filled the tunnel behind her, effectively sealing it off, so if she’d wanted to get out she’d be unable to. Jenny wasn’t aware of it at once: she was aware of nothing but the dust swirling around her as thick and acrid as smoke. It stung her eyes and caused them to stream with tears, and filled her nostrils, and she felt she would choke with it as she coughed and coughed till her stomach ached.
Outside, the rescuers heard the roaring boom too, as loud as thunder. Those on the pavement saw the rubble drop several inches and the whole mountain of bricks began to tilt and sway. For some time after the dust had settled around Jenny in her tunnel, it dislodged bricks, plaster pieces and glass shards outside and they continued to slither on top of the pile, and so it was a while before the rescuers could begin again. ‘I think the little lady’s had it this time, don’t you?’ one man said.
‘Don’t you believe it!’ Stan Walker, Jenny’s fellow warden and one of the rescue team, stated forcibly. ‘I’ve worked with Jenny at the warden’s post for some time now, and I’ll tell you she’s one of the best.’
‘No one’s saying she isn’t, man,’ another protested. ‘It’s just … well, everyone knows what that noise means.’
‘Bloody good job her gran’s gone home. I reckon she’d have collapsed if she’d heard and seen that.’
There was a murmur of agreement and then someone said, ‘Let’s hope she hasn’t upset the lot and brought it all down on the child she was trying to save.’
This was a sobering thought and Stan burst in eventually with, ‘That’s defeatist talk and what Hitler would expect of you all. Whether they’re alive or dead, let’s get them out of that hell-hole, even if it’s just to give them a Christian burial.’
At Stan’s words there was a small cheer. ‘That’s telling them, mate,’ a man said from the back. ‘Come on, you lot – where’s your Brummie grit? Let’s get to it,’ and without another word the men turned to their task and redoubled their efforts.
Down in the tunnel, despite the dust still swirling around her Jenny saw she had achieved her objective; the wood had dropped sufficiently to let her climb inside to where Linda lay. Lightheaded with relief, for she really thought she’d had it that time, she got to her feet shakily and clambered over the wood partition to the injured child.
Linda was unconscious and delirious, she was mumbling on about her mother and little brothers in a way that brought tears to Jenny’s eyes. She hoped that she had some nice kindly gran or aunt to take care of her after all this, for the thin undersized child certainly looked as if she needed someone to see to her and help her over the terrible tragedy of losing her mother.
‘Linda,’ Jenny said gently, ‘remember me?’ She saw the slight frown on Linda’s face and knew she not only had no idea who she was, she probably couldn’t even hear her. ‘I said I’d come back and stay with you, do you remember?’ Linda’s eyes flickered shut again and Jenny went on doggedly, ‘I’ve spoken to the doctor. He’s given me an injection for you to take away the pain, is that all right?’
There was no response and Jenny realized she’d have to administer the injection anyway. She eased Linda out of one sleeve of her coat and rolled her cardigan up. As she moved the flashlight nearer, she was more nervous than she’d ever been in her whole life. It took all her reserves of courage to stick the needle into the flesh of the bunched up arm, as Dr Sanders had shown her, and press the plunger, especially as Linda flinched as she did it.
The child was shivering with cold, Jenny realized as she gently pulled down her sleeve and eased her into her coat again and buttoned it up. She brought over the blanket and put it around the two of them, then lay down beside Linda and put her arms around her, trying to warm her with her own body.
She must have dozed off, for when she woke, Jenny didn’t realize where she was for a moment or two. Then she saw a pair of solemn, blue-grey eyes staring into hers in the flickering beam of the flashlight. The child’s voice was slightly slurred – with the morphine Jenny supposed – but her mind seemed lucid enough as she said, as if she couldn’t believe it, ‘You came back.’
‘I said I would.’
‘I know.’
‘You didn’t believe me?’
‘I tried to, I waited a long time.’
‘It took a long time,’ Jenny said. ‘I told you that. I’d also cut my hands and legs getting to you and I had to have them dressed. Not that it did my hands much good,’ she added, because though her legs and feet had been protected by heavy-duty trousers and boots, the bandages around her hands were filthy dirty and were virtually ripped to shreds.
‘Would you like a drink of water?’ she asked.
‘You’ve got water?’ Linda said, amazed. ‘I’ve dreamed about having a drink. My throat is so dry.’
‘You can’t take too much,’ Jenny warned. ‘It might have to last some time. I have special energy biscuits too. Are you hungry?’
‘I was,’ Linda admitted. ‘Terribly hungry. It went off, but I’d