The Girl With No Name by Diney Costeloe Page A

anti-aircraft battery in the park not three streets away and the crump and thud of falling bombs. The house seemed to be shaking above them and they held hands for mutual comfort.
    Lisa wondered if Harry had got back to the hostel before the raid. She knew they had a shelter there, so he should be all right. Naomi was worrying about Dan. He was out with his taxi when the siren had gone off and a surprise daylight raid like this would have caught him, like so many others, unawares.
    One very loud explosion made the whole house shake and groan above them, and they clutched each other in terror at the sounds of destruction nearby. ‘That one was close,’ cried Naomi. ‘Oh God, I hope Dan’s all right.’
    ‘He’ll have taken shelter somewhere.’ Lisa tried to sound reassuring, but her own fear made her voice shaky. She hoped he was safe, as well.
    It was more than an hour and a half before the all-clear sounded and Lisa and Naomi could emerge into the kitchen. Naomi looked in dismay at the broken glass on the kitchen floor. The window sagged inwards, still criss-crossed with strips of black tape as a defence against bomb blast, but the tumblers which had been on the draining board and two vases at either end of the mantelpiece lay in smithereens on the lino. The front door had been blown open and hung askew on one bent hinge.
    Outside there was the sound of shouting, voices echoing down the street as people came out of shelters to view the damage the Luftwaffe had left in its wake. There was immediate activity further along the road and Naomi and Lisa went outside to see what had happened.
    ‘Oh, God,’ Naomi cried, rushing down the street in distress, ‘the Duke’s been hit.’ Lisa followed her to join the crowd gathering outside the pub. There was a crater in the road and the roof of the Duke of Wellington hung unsupported over a collapsed wall.
    Leon Hardman, the air raid warden, had taken charge and was urging people to stand back and stay clear. ‘That roof could come down at any moment,’ he shouted. ‘Keep right back.’ Even as he shouted, a shower of tiles clattered down, smashing on the pavement below, and everyone drew back, looking up anxiously at the crumbling roof.
    But it was something else that caught Naomi’s eye, a flash of orange, a flicker of red. Flames. She gave a shriek of panic. ‘The Duke’s on fire!’ she screamed. ‘The Duke’s on fire!’ Smoke began to seep out through a broken window.
    ‘Where’s Mary and Tom?’ someone called. ‘Are they inside?’
    With another bellow of ‘Stand back! Stay back!’ Leon Hardman made a dash for the door of what had once been the public bar. Its glass panel was gone and he peered through the small opening into the room beyond.
    He could see Mary lying on the floor, her arm flung out and her face turned away. There were already flames on the stairs to the floor above and smoke was swirling through the room. Leon flung his weight against the door, but it wouldn’t budge, the shifting of the wall had left it wedged.
    ‘Mary’s inside!’ he yelled. ‘Get an axe! Call the fire brigade! Get some water!’ Again he drove his shoulder against the resistant door. Someone dashed off to the wardens’ post to summon help and to find an axe, but at that moment a man hurtled round the corner, erupting through the crowd and flinging himself towards the door.
    ‘Where’s Mary?’ he shrieked as he ran. ‘Is Mary inside?’ He thrust Leon aside and flung himself against the unyielding door.
    ‘It’s jammed,’ yelled Leon. ‘Tom, it’s jammed. They’re getting an axe.’
    Tom gave a roar of rage and set off round the building. With a glance up at the overhanging roof, he clambered up and over the rubbled remains of its supporting wall and appeared inside the bar. Smoke was now pouring from the damaged building and the crackle of the burgeoning flames was clearly heard by those outside in the street. Another shower of tiles from the roof caused