Lynda La Plante: The Legacy

At long last she reached the corner of the street to find it a nightmare of flames and charred buildings. Fire engines were trying to get through the rubble. Stumbling and crying, calling her boys’ names, Evelyne stopped in horror. Ed’s brother’s house was no more than a heap of rubble, and fire gushed from next door’s wooden window frames. Screams echoed around, the thick black smoke filled the street, and Evelyne pushed her way through the dazed people wandering around calling for their loved ones. One of Freda’s lodgers, one of the tarts, was sitting on the pavement sobbing, repeating over and over in a shocked, hysterical voice, ‘Me new dress, me new dress, I just got it, me new dress.’

Evelyne could see Ed and Freda’s house burning, the roof on fire, and as she pressed on she prayed over and over again that her boys were safe.

She saw Edward first, he was scrambling over the rubble calling out for Auntie Freda, Uncle Ed, his hands bleeding as he clawed at the bricks. A fireman tried to haul him away as burning timbers came crashing down. Evelyne ran towards him, and Alex appeared, black from head to foot, his tear-stained face hysterical with fear as he pointed back to number twelve, still gabbling as Evelyne held him tight, tried to calm him down. An unexploded incendiary bomb was sticking through the roof of their house, and the firemen were trying to clear the street. It could go off at any time.

‘Where’s your father, Alex? Alex?’

Evelyne had to slap his face, he didn’t even seem to know that he was in her arms.

‘Get the bloody fool outta there, it’s going up at any time.’

Knowing both her boys were safe, Evelyne headed for number twelve. A fireman grabbed her, shouting that the house would blow at any minute, everyone had to get back.

‘He’s inside, Ma, he went in for Rex, he’s gone to get Rex.’

The hoses drenched her as she screamed out for Freedom. The smoke was so thick now that their eyes were red and smarting, and the fumes from the glue factory hung in the air like an overpowering cloud.

‘Freedom … Freedom?’

As the roof blew, Freedom hurtled out of the house, clutching the terrified, snarling dog to his chest. Evelyne, her arms wrapped around her boys, almost collapsed with relief. They all stood together and watched the house blaze. Alex clung to her, holding his beloved dog at the same time. The hoses sprayed them as they stood in the debris of their street. Freedom went back to help with the fire.

Freda had been at her sewing machine, and Ed had obviously tried to warn her — his body was found in the passageway between the rooms. Ed’s brother and sister-in-law and two of their children had been trapped in the kitchen. They had not stood a chance.

The realization of how lucky they were did not dawn until later that night as they lay in the underground shelter. They huddled together, clinging to each other. Alex whispered to his mother that Edward had known it would happen, he had known.

‘What are you talking about, love, how did he know?’

Edward was sleeping, his filthy face resting on his arms. Evelyne wrapped the blanket closer around him, tried not to cry.

‘He knew, Ma. We were out in the yard and there was no sound of the planes, nothing — no sirens even, an’ as it was day we didn’t worry, like — an’ suddenly he grabbed hold of me and said go and warn Auntie an’ Uncle Ed. The planes weren’t even overhead.’

Freedom left the shelter and went off to do his warden’s duties, and in the morning he was back and said they could return to their house. The roof was badly damaged and they didn’t have a single window left, but at” least it was still standing.

The sad, bedraggled group made its way home. The street was full of rubble, and the ambulances were still taking the bodies of the dead away. Firemen were digging in the bombed-out buildings looking for survivors, for bodies. The family kept their eyes down, not wanting to see Freda’s frilly curtains, charred and sodden, lying in the gutter. They stepped over puddles, charred furniture, shattered glass, until they stood outside their house. Evelyne shuddered, it looked so derelict, so black, so deathly.

‘Freedom, I don’t want to go in, is there anywhere else we could go?’

He was carrying Rex in his arms, and he paused. Was she reading his mind? ‘It’s our home, and the way you look at it is, they hit us once, be a miracle if they get us again … Come on, lads, let’s make some tea and get the place cleaned up.’

Freedom could feel the horror, the house closing in on him, and he gasped for breath. The acrid stench from the glue factory hung in the air, burning his nostrils. He put his shoulder to the door and it crashed open.

The impact of bombs all round had made the house subside. The passageway was waterlogged and strewn with broken glass, and over everything was thick, black dust. It broke Evelyne’s heart. Ordering the boys to search for what could be salvaged, Freedom began to clear away the ruined furniture. In the centre of the room was the scrapbook — not one page was left intact. He picked it up, and all he could think of was Ed, how he had looked with his warden’s tin hat on the back of his head. He gritted his teeth and threw the remains of the book out of the back door along with everything else. But he couldn’t get Ed’s voice out of his mind, heard again the last words Ed had said to him, ‘Now, look, lad, I’m not one wiv words, but I want you ter know somefihk should anyfink ever happen … I love you, like you was me’ own son, an’ I’m depending on you ter take care of Freda. I’ve not much, but what I ‘ave is yours, that includes all me memorabilia.’

Freedom felt the loss swamping him, overpowering him, and he hurled a chair out through the broken window with all his might. Edward started screaming, and Freedom’s heart lurched. He turned in panic, to see Edward waving a telegram, his face shining.

‘Ma, Ma, it’s come, I’ve won a scholarship to Cambridge. I’ve won a place at Cambridge University … I’ve done it!’

Before Evelyne could congratulate him, Freedom slammed his fist into the last intact pane of glass, shattering it into the yard. His fist bleeding, he turned on Edward, his face dark with rage.

‘Don’t you ever think of anyone but yerself, boy? There’s Freda an’ Ed dead, an’ all you can scream about is that you won a bloody scholarship’. I’ll knock that smile off your face!’

Edward was taken aback for a moment, then he glared. ‘You just try it — come on then, try it.’ He threw a wild punch at his father, and Freedom blocked it with a swift movement of his arm. Edward tottered backwards, off balance.

‘You better stay away from me, Eddie, I mean it.’

Edward charged, head down, and butted Freedom in the stomach, then swung his fists like windmills, but again Freedom threw him off as though he were a small child. This time Edward lurched backwards, striking his head on the mantelpiece. His face red, his mouth tight, he picked himself up. ‘That’s the last time you’ll ever hit me, you bastard, you bastard.’

Reaching out, Freedom grabbed Edward and pulled him closer, slapping his face, the blows jerking his head back and forth. ‘Don’t try fighting me, sonny, you don’t stand a chance. Go and join the army like the rest of the lads, like a man, instead of a nancy boy tied to your mother’s apron strings.’

Edward dodged behind the table. ‘Only nancy boy. round this place is you, the great champion fighter, an’ the army wouldn’t even take yer.’

Alex ran from the room into the hallway, calling for his mother, ‘Ma, Ma, come quick, Dad and Eddie are fighting!’

Panic-stricken, he ran up the stairs. Freedom kicked the door shut, and began to roll up his sleeves. ‘You’ll not have your Ma to help you now, son, you’ve been asking for this for a long time.’