While the Storm Rages, page 22
The moon reappeared from behind the trees and Winn’s pace picked up. How she was doing it he had no idea, but he couldn’t lose her, not now, so he sped up too. He saw a long, high wall ahead of them, stretching out into the darkness.
It was imposing and grand, with a decorative top section. Could this be it? Feeling giddy with shock, he heard another shout. And for every second that passed, the gap between him and the chasers decreased, the sound of their boots echoing in a menacing rhythm.
‘Don’t stop, Winn!’ cried Noah, ignoring the tears that rolled off his chin. ‘Not much further now! That’s it.’
He had no idea of course if that were true, but he had to believe it. To think anything else would extinguish whatever waning faith he had left.
But just as it felt like luck had betrayed them, he saw, some thirty yards ahead, what they had been looking for all this time. The first glimpse of the Duchess’ house itself. It seemed to rise out of the darkness like a mighty stone giant. It would have taken his breath away had he not been so close to collapse, and it spurred him on, until, finally, finally he saw the metal gates that would lead to its front door.
They stood some twenty-feet high, standing guard, warning him to keep back.
But when had he ever listened?
Instead, Noah and Winn sprinted faster, finding one final gear that neither of them knew they possessed.
It carried them to the foot of the gates, and their lead, if anything, slightly increased.
But not for long.
Because the gates were well and truly locked.
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Noah pushed, though there was clearly no point.
So he took a different tack. If he couldn’t go through, then he would have to go over, and he wedged his right boot into the first iron foothold he could find.
‘Stay here, girl,’ he told Winn, who looked on, anxiously.
Climbing was not Noah’s forte and under pressure, it was like tackling Everest in his slippers. He felt every minute of the last few days in his bones, the pain from his burns screaming at him to stop. He heard every breath reverberate in his ears, as well as the shouts of the officers, moving ever closer.
He tried to speed up, but this accelerated not only his clumsiness, but also an over-riding feeling of futility. It felt unlikely that he would make it up and over the gates, but even if he did, the chances of reaching the house, then rousing and returning with the Duchess before the police arrived and took Winn, seemed frankly, impossible.
Despair and exhaustion engulfed him, as did the shouts of the bobbies. They were close now, too close, they’d be on top of him within a minute, and Noah felt his legs and arms stop moving without realising that his brain had told them to.
How could he get so very, very close, only to see it snatched away? They deserved better than this, Winn deserved better than this. He gripped the bars tightly with his fists and pulled on them again and again, a frustrated wail bursting from his lungs.
‘Get down, boy!’ came a voice, still far enough away to need to shout. ‘You’ll break your ruddy neck.’
With arms and legs feeling more leaden with every single movement, Noah descended. It was over. Once back on the floor, he slumped at Winn’s side, not even her long, affectionate licks reviving him.
‘Leave us alone!’ he gasped to the nearest policeman. ‘We haven’t done nothing wrong you know!’
‘We know that, lad. Though your mother might see things differently. Fancy running off like that with everything else that’s going on?’
‘We didn’t have a choice, did we?’ Noah snapped. ‘They wanted to kill our pets.’
‘It’s for their own good,’ a second officer replied. ’And for everyone else’s. They’re only animals, son.’
If there was a moment when Noah knew, truly knew that his actions of the last few days were right and just, this was it. And he had no hesitation in telling them so.
‘This dog here, and the one back there? They’re worth ten of you!’ Noah spat. ‘Winn’s braver and more loyal than any human I know. And even though she hasn’t slept, or eaten properly in God knows how long, if I ask her to defend me, she will. Even now. Won’t you, girl?’
Noah stood unsteadily, legs apart, fist raised in resistance, and watched as his dog joined him, back arched, teeth bared to each of the bobbies.
The one at the front sighed as he straightened his helmet. ‘Come on now, son. Enough of the dramatics. You either come quietly or you come with a couple of thick ears.’
Noah could feel the cold of the metal bars against his back. There was nowhere to go. Nothing to save him.
Or so he thought, for as the game was finally up, and the policeman reached out to take hold of him, from the shadows raced a dog. Not Winn, nor Frank. A dog Noah had never seen before in his life. A long, lean hound that, judging by the barking it offered the bobbies, clearly didn’t think much of the law.
Where had it come from? Noah was so tired he reckoned it must be some sort of guardian angel. It didn’t seem to belong to anyone. Was he ill? Feverous?
But then he heard a woman’s voice, which loomed out of the darkness, in clipped, precise tones like the ones that read the news on the wireless.
‘Could someone tell me what on earth is going on?’ it asked.
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The woman wasn’t tall, Noah thought through tired eyes, no bigger than his mother really, though she seemed to fill the landscape. Through the glow of the police lanterns, he could see that she was wearing a pair of filthy Wellington boots and a long woollen cardigan, buttoned from shin to neck. Upon it sat the contents of a small haystack. Strands were also caught in her wiry, thick hair: so many that she took on the appearance of a poorly maintained scarecrow.
‘Madam,’ said one of the officers, ‘if this is your animal, then may I ask that you call it to heel. This has nothing to do with him, or indeed you.’
This did little to make either the dog or the woman back down. In fact, she marched forward even quicker, positioning herself between Noah and the bobbies.
‘Oh I wouldn’t say that,’ she said bluntly. ‘Given that you seem to be arresting someone on my land.’
Noah felt his eyes widen and his pulse race. Had he heard her correctly? Because if what she said was true, then this was the... but it couldn’t be? He looked at the woman then back at the house. There could be no way that this person ate and slept and lived in such grand surroundings, not looking the way she did. Even Dennis was better turned out than her. But as he looked at the woman once more, he saw a fierceness and regalness in her stance that offered him hope. She was the Duchess. She had to be.
‘M’lady,’ he said, though he had no idea if he was addressing her correctly. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? I know it is.’
The woman peered at him confused. ‘Are you all right, young man. You don’t look well.’
Noah didn’t give her the answer she’d asked for. He wasn’t well, far from it. One of the burns on his wrist was oozing now, a yellow pus leaking which smelled anything but healthy.
‘My name’s Noah. Noah Price.’ He went to shake her hand then saw the mud and infected blood smeared over it. He wiped it on his vest and offered it anyway. ‘And this is Winn. We heard about you from a lady at Battersea Dogs Home.’
‘Did you?’ she replied, her face a mixture of surprise and revulsion at the hand on offer. ‘And what did she say?’
‘That we should come to you. And that you wouldn’t turn us away.’
The first policeman sighed in irritation. ‘That’s enough now, boy. Let’s get you home.’
But Noah wasn’t ready, and the woman wasn’t either. ‘Let him finish officer... please.’
Noah jumped on the opportunity, as best he could. He felt oh so dizzy and his mouth was parched, but he had to get the story out. Convince her while he had the chance. ‘There was more of us before. Loads more. There was Clem, my best friend. And Samson and Delilah. She’s a snake. Great big python, she is. But Col took her home cos she was dying. Then there was the kittens, Mary and Joseph, but we left them at a farm for a boy to look after.’
‘Is that all?’ The woman’s eyes suggested she couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing.
‘No, there was Frank too. Little Frank. Best dachshund ever, and he wasn’t a Nazi, no matter what Col’s dad said... but he died. Tonight. Twenty minutes ago. Back there.’ And he pointed, exhausted, ready to collapse, the woman following his finger.
‘Is this true?’ she asked the bobbies.
‘There is a girl back there,’ one confirmed. ‘And a dead dog as well.’ He looked sheepish and said no more.
The woman shook her head in confusion as she turned back to Noah. ‘Then I can hardly doubt you, can I? Though I’m afraid I really don’t understand what this has to do with me.’ And she smiled, sympathetically.
‘Because you’re the Duchess, aren’t you? Like the woman said.’
One of the officers laughed. The woman did not. She just looked even more confused.
‘The what?’
‘The Duchess. Nina Douglas-Hamilton.’
The woman let a sad smile slide on to her face. ‘I’m very sorry. But I think you have me confused with somebody else.’
‘No,’ said Noah, taking an unsteady step towards her, panic rising in him. ‘I haven’t. You live here, don’t you? In this big house.’
‘Well, I do, yes...’
‘Then you’re the Duchess. You have to be. Esther’s been to your house before. Then Clem found it on the map, backing on to the Thames. Clem never gets these things wrong. I do, but Clem? No chance. She said you’d take all the animals in. She said you wouldn’t turn anybody away.’
Another of the officers stepped forward, taking care to move slowly around the woman’s dog. ‘Come on now, son. You’re tired and confused.’
‘No. No I’m not.’ Noah fought back. ‘Go get Clem. I’ll prove it to you.’
‘Son, you and your pal can swear on each other’s lives, but this will never be a Duchess’ house. This has been my beat for nearly twenty years, so I know that for a fact. The Duchess of Hamilton’s estate isn’t anywhere near here. Far as I know it’s in Dorset.’
Noah looked at the woman, praying she’d contradict him, but she didn’t. Instead, all she could say was, ‘It’s true I’m afraid, young man. I’m not the person you’re looking for. For your sake I wish I was, but I’m not.’
Noah felt the life fall from him. Felt his left knee tremble then buckle, and then sensed Winn at his side as he fell, the gravel biting at his skin.
‘I’m sorry, girl,’ he whispered to her. ‘I let you down, didn’t I?’
But Winn wasn’t the only one beside him now. The woman was too, her hand brushing Noah’s forehead.
‘Officer, this boy is burning up. We need to get him some water. His dog too. Help me get him inside.’
‘Madam, we really should be getting him home. His mother is worried sick.’
‘I’m sure she is. And she’ll be even more worried if he returns home with a fever. I have a telephone. We can get her word from here.’ She turned back to Noah. ‘How far have you come, you and your friend? Where’s home?’
‘London,’ Noah replied. He knew that much. ‘Wapping.’
‘But that’s miles away. How did you get here?’
‘On a boat, then we walked. We didn’t steal the boat. It was my dad’s.’
‘Was?’
‘She sank.’
She shook her head again. ‘But why? Why run away with everything else that’s going on?’
‘Because they wanted to kill them,’ Noah said. He wanted to sleep so desperately now, but he had to tell her and make her understand. ‘Not the police... the government, they told us to have them put down. Winn, Frank, Delilah all of them. You should’ve seen the queues! Wrapped halfway round London they did. They said it wasn’t safe to keep them alive, except, well, we couldn’t do it, could we? Because they’ve just as much right to see the end of the war as we have. The government’s evacuating us so we wanted to do the same for our dogs. So... we ran away. Because we had no choice and because we were told about the Duchess keeping animals safe.’
‘So you came all this way on your own from London?’
‘Well, yes. Wouldn’t you? For your dog?’
‘On a stolen boat?’
‘No, no!’ Noah panicked, ‘It was my dad’s. The Queen Maudie., I just... borrowed it.’ He lowered his voice, ‘You see he’s fighting. He wouldn’t mind. Not if it kept Winn safe, I promised him. We made a deal, if I kept Winn safe, then he’d come back safe too!’
The woman shook her head sadly yet again.
‘I promise you, it’s true.’ Noah pleaded, ‘Our animals, they mean more to us than anything. And we just want them to have the same chances we have. And you can do that, can’t you? Please. You can, I know you can, because the woman at the dogs home told us. Ask Clem, she’ll tell you...’
He felt confused and hot again, woozy, like the ground underneath him was made of jelly. A firework went off in his head, or it could’ve been a gunshot, or another Spitfire crashing into a field. He couldn’t tell, he was too tired. He just needed to rest a while, right where he was. Him and Winn together.
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Noah had the craziest of dreams.
There were arms on him, lifting him, carrying him. Then there was a car. At least he thought it was a car. It may have been a van, he couldn’t be sure. Or a Spitfire – engine roaring. Then there was nothing. Except bumps and braking and possibly a siren.
He thought he dreamed of Mum as well. Could hear and smell her, but he couldn’t see her. He tried to call to tell her he was here, to explain, but then there was a whole lot more of nothing.
Until he woke.
He had no idea where he was or what time it was. All he knew was that as he moved his hand, he felt fur against it, and relieved, he allowed himself to sleep again.
He awoke to the same thing several times: the only thing that changed was the quality of the light.
When he finally came to for more than a moment, he knew exactly where he was. The smell, the background noise, the feeling of the sheet against his skin, he knew he was in his bedroom, and as he turned his head, feeling pain as he did so, he saw something very familiar in the chair next to him: his mother. Her presence was more of a shock than a comfort, though judging by the wet flannel in her hand and the bowl on her lap, it was clear she’d been there throughout. As had Winn, wedged still at his side.
‘About time you woke up,’ she said, deadpan.
He looked for the word that he knew he had to say quickly, but his throat and mouth were too parched to force it out. It took a cup, lifted to his mouth by Maudie, to enable him to actually say sorry.
Once said, and once his mother had checked his temperature, he braced himself for the inevitable and possibly deserved onslaught.
But his mother surprised him, for instead of strong words, there was only the strongest of hugs that went on so long that he thought it would never end.
‘I’m not sure there’s enough water in the world to get you clean,’ she said, her voice thick with emotion. ‘I did try, but even when you were delirious, you still fought me because I had a flannel in my hand.’
Noah laughed, but it hurt. Or more accurately, everything did. From his scalp, to the bandaged burns on his wrists and fingers, to the soles of his feet.
‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he said, knowing it was nowhere near enough, but he had to start somewhere. ‘How long have I been home?’
‘Well, the war’s not over yet. But you’ve been back three days.’
‘Three days?’ He tried to sit up, but the mixture of head pain and a forceful motherly arm pushed him back on to the pillows. ‘I need to speak to Clem.’
‘You’ll have a job,’ she replied, dousing the flannel and using it to rub at his fingers roughly. ‘She’s on a train as we speak.’
‘She’s gone? But what about Frank?’
Maudie sighed. ‘We’ll talk about this when you’re on your feet.’ But Noah grabbed her hand and implored her. ‘Please, Mum. Tell me what happened to Frank.’
‘They buried him yesterday, love.’ Her tone was matter of fact, like she needed it to be.
‘And is she all right? Clem?’
‘Well, she was a lot better than you, that’s for sure. She wasn’t burnt. Or full of fever. Her mother wasn’t so happy though. Neither of us were. Worried us sick you did, the pair of you.’ She took a deep breath, like she was burying the rest of what she wanted to say.
‘I’m not ready to be angry with you quite yet though,’ she said. ‘Though I’m sure I’ll manage by the time you’re clean.’
Exhausted at the thought, Noah closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift off.
His convalescence was quicker than he expected, partially because once he was consistently awake, Mum made it clear that he was to get up and sort himself out.
After batches of her homemade chicken soup and slabs of buttered crusty bread, within twenty-four hours he found himself in the kitchen, in a steaming hot bath,
Mum’s only words telling him he’d missed a bit when he dared to get out of the water too soon.
It wasn’t until he was sitting, wrapped in a towel, that Mum managed to find the words that summed up how she felt. And she delivered them without hesitation or regret, silencing Noah every time he dared to offer a counter-argument. He had no idea what she was most angry about, the running off, the stealing of the boat, the lies, the deceit, they all seemed to add equally to her volcano and he could understand that. All he could do was be as equally honest.
‘I just couldn’t do it, Mum. I couldn’t let them take Winn. I still can’t.’
‘I know it hurts, Noah. But there’s a war on, son. We don’t know what that means yet, not really, or how long it will last, but everyone has to do their bit. And there are thousands of people in exactly the same position as you, making a sacrifice.’
