got into trouble with this new brainwave of his? She was very frightened. The candle flickered and a judder went through the
ground. The next second an explosion knocked them off the bench. They fell on the hard floor. Dust tumbled from the ceiling and the shelf crashed down. With her eyes tightly closed, she covered
Lucky with her body. Was this it? Was this the end? Noise roared all around them.
‘Keep us safe, please,’ she prayed between little sobs. She was too scared to move.
‘Connie!’ A voice was calling. She cried to call back but nothing came out. She could hear someone banging at the shelter door.
‘It’s me, Vic. I’m digging you out. The door’s blocked with sandbags.’
‘Vic?’ She scrambled to her knees. The door finally swung open. ‘Oh, Vic!’
He rushed in and grabbed them. ‘Oh thank God you’re safe!’
‘There was a terrible bang.’
‘It was in the next road. But when I saw the smoke I thought it was Kettle Street.’
‘Oh, Vic,’ she sobbed as he held her tight.
‘Are you both okay?’
‘Yes, but I fell on top of him.’ They both looked into the shawl. A dirty little face gazed up at them. She pressed him against her chest as he began to cry. Automatically she rocked
him. ‘It’s a wonder he isn’t squashed and deaf.’
‘That was very close.’
‘I know. But why are you here?’
‘I bumped into Billy today on my way home from work. He said he had to go across the water with this new boss of his and didn’t know if he’d get back before nightfall. I
intended to be here earlier but I had to report in first and it was bedlam. I just couldn’t get away.’ He held her face in his hands. ‘Connie, I was so worried about you being on
your own.’
‘You’re here now, that’s all that matters.’
Gently he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you, sweetheart – to either of you.’
He had called her sweetheart! Her heart fluttered as he hugged her. ‘Come on, sit on the bench.’ He righted the seat and helped her to get comfortable.
‘Have the planes gone?’
‘For the moment. But they’ll be back again.’
‘I don’t want to be on my own.’
He put his arm around her. ‘You won’t have to. I’ll stay until morning.’
‘Oh, I wish I was braver.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I get so scared.’
‘Just like everyone else,’ he soothed, stoking her head. ‘And you are brave. Very brave indeed. Now, Lucky seems to have gone off. Why don’t you close your
eyes.’
‘I don’t want to let go of him.’
‘All right. I’ll put my arms round you both.’
And they were the last words she remembered before sleep claimed her.
When she woke, she was lying on the bench where Billy usually slept. A blanket was draped across her. The Tilley lamp was on and Vic was slumped in the corner, snoring softly. His arms were
folded across his chest, his long legs stretched out in front. Lucky was asleep in his cart. He was getting used to the bombs. And so, it seemed, was she.
Connie’s heart tightened with joy. Vic had called her sweetheart!
The following week the BBC broadcast that already over one hundred and eighty-five enemy planes had been shot down and the raids were expected to continue. Connie saw pictures
in the newspaper of a changed Oxford Street. Peter Robinson’s department store and John Lewis’s both had their ornate facades ripped away, almost every window shattered. It was reported
that Londoners now enjoyed less than four hours sleep at night, a fact to which Connie herself could testify. She was only half awake at work and sometimes found herself dozing on her stool. Not
that she hadn’t noticed Mr Burns stifling a yawn, as he removed his spectacles and cleaned the lenses methodically. Ada, once a self-confessed night bird, now replenished her make-up so
frequently that her eyes resembled a panda’s. Even Len’s jokes about his mother were fewer. But life continued in a
ground. The next second an explosion knocked them off the bench. They fell on the hard floor. Dust tumbled from the ceiling and the shelf crashed down. With her eyes tightly closed, she covered
Lucky with her body. Was this it? Was this the end? Noise roared all around them.
‘Keep us safe, please,’ she prayed between little sobs. She was too scared to move.
‘Connie!’ A voice was calling. She cried to call back but nothing came out. She could hear someone banging at the shelter door.
‘It’s me, Vic. I’m digging you out. The door’s blocked with sandbags.’
‘Vic?’ She scrambled to her knees. The door finally swung open. ‘Oh, Vic!’
He rushed in and grabbed them. ‘Oh thank God you’re safe!’
‘There was a terrible bang.’
‘It was in the next road. But when I saw the smoke I thought it was Kettle Street.’
‘Oh, Vic,’ she sobbed as he held her tight.
‘Are you both okay?’
‘Yes, but I fell on top of him.’ They both looked into the shawl. A dirty little face gazed up at them. She pressed him against her chest as he began to cry. Automatically she rocked
him. ‘It’s a wonder he isn’t squashed and deaf.’
‘That was very close.’
‘I know. But why are you here?’
‘I bumped into Billy today on my way home from work. He said he had to go across the water with this new boss of his and didn’t know if he’d get back before nightfall. I
intended to be here earlier but I had to report in first and it was bedlam. I just couldn’t get away.’ He held her face in his hands. ‘Connie, I was so worried about you being on
your own.’
‘You’re here now, that’s all that matters.’
Gently he stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. ‘I won’t let anything happen to you, sweetheart – to either of you.’
He had called her sweetheart! Her heart fluttered as he hugged her. ‘Come on, sit on the bench.’ He righted the seat and helped her to get comfortable.
‘Have the planes gone?’
‘For the moment. But they’ll be back again.’
‘I don’t want to be on my own.’
He put his arm around her. ‘You won’t have to. I’ll stay until morning.’
‘Oh, I wish I was braver.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. ‘I get so scared.’
‘Just like everyone else,’ he soothed, stoking her head. ‘And you are brave. Very brave indeed. Now, Lucky seems to have gone off. Why don’t you close your
eyes.’
‘I don’t want to let go of him.’
‘All right. I’ll put my arms round you both.’
And they were the last words she remembered before sleep claimed her.
When she woke, she was lying on the bench where Billy usually slept. A blanket was draped across her. The Tilley lamp was on and Vic was slumped in the corner, snoring softly. His arms were
folded across his chest, his long legs stretched out in front. Lucky was asleep in his cart. He was getting used to the bombs. And so, it seemed, was she.
Connie’s heart tightened with joy. Vic had called her sweetheart!
The following week the BBC broadcast that already over one hundred and eighty-five enemy planes had been shot down and the raids were expected to continue. Connie saw pictures
in the newspaper of a changed Oxford Street. Peter Robinson’s department store and John Lewis’s both had their ornate facades ripped away, almost every window shattered. It was reported
that Londoners now enjoyed less than four hours sleep at night, a fact to which Connie herself could testify. She was only half awake at work and sometimes found herself dozing on her stool. Not
that she hadn’t noticed Mr Burns stifling a yawn, as he removed his spectacles and cleaned the lenses methodically. Ada, once a self-confessed night bird, now replenished her make-up so
frequently that her eyes resembled a panda’s. Even Len’s jokes about his mother were fewer. But life continued in a
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