While the Storm Rages, page 3
She shook her head, sadly. ‘I can’t, Noah. We don’t know what will happen. How long the war might last, or how bad the bombing might get. The only thing I do know is that if something happened to you and I could’ve avoided it, then I’d never forgive myself. So that leaves me no choice. You have to go to the countryside. Even if it’s only for a short while.’
‘But what about Winn? Mum, please, I can’t leave her.’
Mum sighed, though she must have known that question was coming.
‘I walked to school after you stormed out,’ she said. ‘Wanted to speak to Mr Gryce.’
Noah felt himself shudder. It was an involuntary reaction he always had when someone mentioned his headteacher. Their relationship was fractious, at best.
‘Oh,’ was the most he could manage.
‘I wanted to speak to him about Winn.’
Noah’s next ‘Oh?’ sounded a lot more hopeful.
‘He said the same as me. That pets will have to stay put. He doesn’t know if there’ll be enough space on the trains for teachers and pupils, never mind animals.’
That stumped Noah. He wanted to argue the toss, but how could he when she’d already tried like she had? No one went to speak to old man Gryce unless they had to.
Which left him... ? Nowhere. In the same position he was when he came back to apologise. He was leaving without Winn. And he hated Hitler for it with a passion.
‘When am I going?’ he asked.
‘Three days, Mr Gryce reckons,’ replied Mum, fighting back a sigh. ‘Just about long enough to get all this darning done. If I’m lucky.’
She returned to her mercy mission, and the wounded socks in front of her.
8
Noah didn’t have nightmares that night, because he didn’t really sleep.
His brain whirred and fizzed, trying to come up with a plan, harebrained or otherwise, a spark that might give him even the smallest semblance of hope.
But nothing came. Winn was too big to hide in a case, and too disobedient and greedy to charm Mr Gryce (or his new evacuation family) into changing their minds. But to give up? That was unthinkable.
Instead, he rolled and cursed in his bed, dragging his bedsheets with him at every turn until they all ended up on the floor. Only Winn was comfortable, choosing the bare mattress over the rug, though her sad, mournful eyes mirrored Noah’s.
When sleep finally came, it was fitful, Noah’s drooping head snapping him awake with a painful reminder every time; How can you sleep? His brain asked him. You’ve a promise to Dad to keep.
Eventually, with the sound of the wireless seeping through the floorboards, morning came, and Noah dressed and slumped downstairs, to find Mum still at the table, her darning pile a little smaller. There was no needle in her hand though, instead her focus was entirely on a folded booklet lying open in front of her.
‘Morning,’ Noah mumbled.
Mum jumped in her chair, closed the booklet quickly and tried to ram it inside a ripped envelope that sat on the table.
‘Do I have to do my chores today?’ Noah asked. He wasn’t trying to wangle his way out of cleaning the pantry: he genuinely didn’t know what was expected of him now under these new, strange circumstances, and he wanted to spend as much time as possible with Mum and Winn.
Mum’s reply didn’t help.
‘Yes – I mean, no,’ she said, booklet still in hand.
‘What’s that?’ Noah strained his eyes to see what was written on the parts of the booklet that weren’t obscured.
‘Nothing.’
Whatever it was about, it looked official. He could make out the sentence ‘Air Raid Precautions’, but that wasn’t enough to really interest him, the only bit that pricked his curiosity were the words ‘For Animals ’ typed underneath.
‘What is that?’ he asked again. ‘That book?’
Mum looked flustered. More than flustered, speechless.
‘Can I have a look?’ he asked.
‘I-I’m not sure,’ she stammered. ‘I haven’t read it all myself yet.’ Noah tried to take it from her, and whilst she resisted at first, it wasn’t enough to stop the booklet sliding into his hands. Mum went to speak, then seemed to think better of it.
Noah read the opening line of the first page.
Animals, like human beings, will be exposed to the risks of air attack in a modern war –
Noah felt his chest constrict. He could see now why Mum wasn’t keen on him reading it.
– and everyone will wish, both from practical and humane motives, to do what is possible to protect them and to alleviate their sufferings.
‘Sufferings?’ he said out loud, though he meant to question it only in his head. ‘Mum? Who sent you this?’
‘The government. Mr Chamberlain,’ she said.
‘Just to you?’
She shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t have thought so. I’m imagining everyone got one. Postman delivered it, first thing.’
‘But what is it?’ He flicked through. ‘There’s pages of it.’
‘I haven’t read it all, Noah. Not yet. So I’m not sure you should until I finish.’
He didn’t believe her. She’d read it, or enough of it to know that it contained things she didn’t want him to see. But there was no way he was giving it back to her until he had a better sense of how it affected Winn.
Not that the dog was concerned. The only thing bothering her was that her morning walk was overdue. She lingered by the back door, tail wagging optimistically.
Noah, for once, ignored her and sat at the table, going back to page one, thwarting Mum’s half-hearted attempts at taking the book from him. It didn’t take him long, half a page at most, to find the next line to distress him.
It should be realised that, in a hostile air raid, poisonous gas may be employed as well as high-explosive and incendiary bombs, so that wounds, fractures and burns may be complicated by gas poisoning.
Nausea rose in him and he swallowed it down.
‘Did you read this?’ he said, underlining the section he’d read with his finger, before showing it to Mum.
‘I did,’ she replied, though she found it hard to meet his eye. ‘I think that will do for now.’ And she tried to prise it from his hands again. But Noah wasn’t having any of it and scooted away from the table, knocking the chair over in the process.
‘You’re saying I have to leave Winn here, yet they’re saying she could end up with gas poisoning? And you expect me to stop reading?’ There was an urgency to his voice now. A rise in pitch that made Winn turn to face him, instead of the back door and the freedom beyond it.
‘Noah, I don’t know exactly what it means.’
Noah had already turned the page and was reading on.
‘It says here that it’s not safe to keep animals in the city,’ he said, jabbing at the page.
‘I know, son, I saw that,’ Mum replied.
‘That they should be evacuated, wherever possible.’ He looked up. ‘So that means she should come with me, doesn’t it?’
Mum made a final attempt to swipe the book from his hand, but it was too late. Noah’s eyes fell on the line that broke his heart;
Owners should make up their minds whether they can take their dog or cat themselves. If this is impossible they should decide whether the animal is best destroyed...
He couldn’t read on. He couldn’t. All he could see, whether his eyes were open or shut, was that one word – destroyed.
He looked to Mum. ‘They’re not saying...’ he asked. ‘They can’t tell us to do that, can they? Not to Winn?’
Mum nodded slowly, painfully.
‘They are, Noah. From what I can see, that’s exactly what they’re telling us to do. They’re telling us to put her down.’
9
Noah had gone to bed the night before feeling more despair than he thought possible, only to be shown this morning that there was further for him to travel. It felt like he’d been pushed down a whole new flight of stairs that spiralled on and on.
What made it worse was that he felt alone in this new, unthinkable reality. If sides were being taken, then it felt like Mum was not on his team.
‘We’re not going to do what they’re saying, are we?’ he’d asked her.
But she’d scrunched up her face in a way that Noah didn’t like one bit.
‘Mum, we can’t, we just can’t. Look at her, Mum. Look at her. That’s murder.’ He’d grabbed the booklet again, devouring random words, but the more he read, the worse his despair became. By the time he reached page twenty-four, he was beside himself, and needed to sit down to read a paragraph entitled Dogs and Cats;
When an owner has been unable to send his dog or cat to a safe area or to make suitable arrangements for its protection, he should consider the advisability of having it painlessly destroyed.
Tears pricked Noah’s eyes.
‘Painlessly?’ he cried. ‘How can it possibly be painless, Mum?’
‘There are ways, Noah. Winn wouldn’t know a thing.’
‘No but I would. And so would you. And Dad. There’s no way he’d agree to this.’
‘There’s no way Dad would agree to Winn being terrified or poisoned by gas, either. You know how much he loves her.’
‘And that’s why we can’t do what they’re telling us to. We can’t, Mum. How can you even consider it?!’
Noah wasn’t trying to lay guilt at her door. And although there was a flush to her face as she replied, there was also a frankness that made him despair still further.
‘We don’t know anyone outside of London who could care for Winn, Noah. I wish we did, but we don’t. I’ve racked my brains trying to think.’
‘Then we have to keep her.’
‘And risk her running riot when the bombs start falling? Noah, she wails when the milkman comes to be paid. How do you think she’ll cope when there are explosions hour after hour, night after night?’
‘She’ll have you to look after her though, won’t she?’
‘Some of the time, yes. But from what I read, animals won’t be allowed down in the air-raid shelters. And during the day I won’t always be here.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’ve got to find work, son. If the war starts we’ll all have a job to do, whether we like it or not. If I end up in a factory or cleaning hospitals, do you think they’ll let me take Winn too?’
‘But that hasn’t happened yet, has it? We shouldn’t be talking or even thinking about it when we’re not even at war!’
‘But, Noah, it’s coming. Everyone knows it. It’s like a storm. And while the storm rages, it won’t be safe for any of us.’
‘So we make that decision when it happens, Mum. When it’s overhead and we can’t run away from it any more.’
Mum said nothing.
‘Please, Mum. We can’t. Not yet.’
Still nothing, so Noah ran to the door and pulled Winn into him.
‘Look at her, Mum. Look! She’s our family. She’s ours. And what’s she ever done to deserve a barrel to her head?’
Mum looked, though it was clear she didn’t want to. Noah said it again. ‘She’s family...’ his eyes as wide as Winn’s, until finally Mum spoke.
‘Right. We’ll do nothing yet,’ she conceded. ‘YET. But the second war’s declared, well, we’ll be doing as the government tells us. Do you understand me, Noah? No ifs, no buts.’
‘I understand,’ said Noah, though his mind had already moved on.
He needed space and time to think. If he was going to hold back the storm that was brewing then he was going to need one heck of a watertight plan.
10
Noah hoped that the streets would be quiet. Masterplans needed focus and space to grow.
Surely everyone would be inside packing their children’s bags, ready for the trains to the countryside. And those without kids? Well, he could only wish that they had other things to busy them indoors. The world was about to end after all.
Within a dozen paces though, his hopes were dashed. The streets were teaming. Adults rushed from house to house, rounding up items of clothing or bars of soap for little Tommy or Margaret’s case. He saw a boy from his class, Robbie, dragging a suitcase after his sister and mum. His mother wore a frantic expression. Robbie just looked cheesed off.
‘Where you going, Rob?’ Noah asked.
‘Grandparents. In the countryside. Till it all blows over.’
If Noah had thought quickly enough, he could’ve asked them if they needed a dog. They might be farmers. Wasn’t that what everyone in the country did? He didn’t know. He’d never been there.
For every parent on a mercy dash or leaving the city, there were twice as many out with their pets. And sadly, they weren’t taking Bonzo on his morning stroll. These were animals being taken on their final walk.
Noah saw dogs, he saw cats, he saw rabbits in crates and a ferret on a lead. Birds sang mournfully in their cages as children (and adults) sobbed their way down the street.
Everyone, it seemed, had received the booklet.
It was difficult to watch, so Noah tried not to, choosing instead to look at Winn as she trotted alongside him. What if Mum saw all these people doing as they were told and changed her mind? Noah tried to walk faster, but Winn was sniffing and barking at anything and everything that interested her. Noah chose not to pull when she stopped to mark her territory every so often. How could he when the poor thing might not have many walks left in her?
Anger and confusion consumed him. At Hitler, at the Prime Minister, at all these fools following like sheep. He imagined the conversations they’d had with their kids;
This is the right thing. You will get over it in time. There will be other pets when this is all over.
He wanted to run with Winn, as fast as he could, away from everyone else and what they thought. But then he saw Clem and knew that it wasn’t an option.
She was walking with her mum and Frank, but not as she normally would. Usually Clem was a watcher, an observer: she soaked up every bit of life she could. But today, her eyes were focused only on the pavement at her feet. And when she did lift her head, her eyes were wet with tears.
‘What is it?’ Noah said as Winn dashed to them, pulling Noah along for the ride. Though in all honesty, Noah had already guessed what was wrong.
‘The booklet,’ Clem wept, as her mum chatted stony-faced to a passing friend, ‘from the government.’
‘But your mum’s not listening to them, is she?’ Noah looked down at Frank, who was wheezing loudly, though this was due to his advancing years rather than any knowledge or fear of what was about to happen to him.
Clem nodded sadly. ‘We’re on our way to the vet’s.’ She grimaced. ‘Are you?’
‘Not yet,’ he whispered. ‘Managed to buy a bit of time to think. Though Mum says if war IS declared, then we have to put Winn down too.’ He didn’t want to ask Clem the next question, but knew he had to. ‘D’you think it WILL happen?’
Clem looked at him. ‘Do you want the truth?’
‘Course I do.’
‘War’s coming, Noah. How could it not be when they’ve already decided to evacuate us?’
‘It can’t!!’ he yelled, before lowering his voice. ‘We can’t let this happen, Clem, we can’t!’
‘But what can we do about it? We’re just children!’
‘But we can’t give in. Not just like that. We need some time, Clem, that’s all. To come up with a plan.’
‘That’s just it though,’ she said, ‘There is no time. We’re off to the vet’s now. Like the rest of London by the looks of it.’
They looked about them, at the sea of long, funereal faces.
‘I can’t believe people are doing this,’ Noah gasped. ‘Just cos the government say so, doesn’t make it right, does it?’
‘I mean, what about the cats?’ said Clem. ‘Without them, who’s going to kill all the mice?’
‘Mice. What about the rats? There’s tons come up from the docks. Mum will flip her lid if she sees any!’
They walked on, as mothers spoke in hushed tones around them.
‘Will you stay with me for a while?’ Clem asked, and Noah was hardly going to say no. He wanted to support his friend, could only hope against hope that between them they’d think of something quickly to save Frank. Their heads whirred and crunched, but despite the urgency of the situation, nothing came, apart from one final surprise as they turned on to Wapping High Street, where the vet-turned-executioner did his atrocious work.
The surgery was at the far end of the street, some quarter of a mile away, but from his door there snaked the longest queue Noah had ever seen in his life. In fact, he didn’t realise it even was a queue at first, though irate, frustrated people wasted no time in telling him as he walked closer to the front.
‘Oi! You!’ One elderly gent yelled. ‘If you’re here for the vet then get to the back of the queue. We’ve been waiting since seven-thirty this morning.’
Noah looked agog. There had to be hundreds of people in front of them, and some had more than one animal in tow.
‘Is the vet going to put all these pets to sleep?’ he said to Clem. ‘In one day? There aren’t enough hours. How will he sleep at night? Knowing he’s murdered that many animals. Don’t they take an oath like doctors do? To keep pets alive, not massacre them.’
Typically, that was the bit Clem’s Mum overheard.
‘Massacre? That’s a strong word, Noah.’
‘What else would you call it?’ Noah muttered under his breath.
But he went obediently, back to the end of the queue, where all he could think about was the executioner’s axe falling, again and again.
11
The queue moved, but slowly. Torturously in fact.
Noah tried to keep Clem in a positive frame of mind, which was difficult when he feared being back here himself all too quickly.
They’ll never get to us today.
They’ll tell us to come back tomorrow.
By then we’ll have a plan. Or Mr Chamberlain will have changed his mind.
But no matter how hard or earnestly he spoke, none of these thoughts rang true. Trying to appeal to Clem’s mum’s better side had no success either.
