Good, Eileen thought, and went back inside to separate Alf and Binnie, who were battling over the right to sleep on the sofa. She pulled the blackout curtains together and helped Theodore into his pajamas, then trooped them all upstairs to the loo and back down to the sitting room, put Theodore on the sofa—“Because it’s his house, Alf”—made up beds for Alf and Binnie on the floor, set the torch by the back door, switched off the lamp, and sat down in the overstuffed chair, listening for the sirens and hoping she’d recognize them when she heard them. She hadn’t researched sirens either. Or bombs.
She’d only just decided it was safe to take her shoes off when she heard the sirens, and then, before she could get her shoes back on, the ominous buzz of approaching planes. And immediately after, the distant crump of a bomb. “Binnie! Alf! Wake up! We’ve got to go to the Anderson.”
“Is it a raid?” Alf said, instantly alert. He leaped up and then stood there looking up at the ceiling, listening. “That’s a Heinkel III.”
“You can do that in the Anderson. Hurry. Take your blanket with you. Theodore, wake up.”
Theodore rubbed his eyes sleepily. “I don’t want to go to the Anderson.”
Of course. She wrapped the blanket around him and picked him up in her arms. There was a boom, and then another, much louder. “They’re comin’ nearer,” Alf said happily.
“Let’s go. Hurry,” Eileen said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. “Binnie, fetch the torch—”
“My name’s Spitfire.”
“Fetch the torch. Alf, open the door—no, switch off the lamp first.” She got the torch and matches from Binnie, and they ran out the back door and across the grass, the torch’s beam lighting a wobbly path in front of them.
“The ARP warden’ll get you for showin’ a light,” Alf said. “You could go to prison.”
Binnie reached the Anderson first. She opened the low door, stepped in, and backed out again. “It’s wet!”
“In,” Eileen said, “now,” and pushed her through the door. She grabbed Alf, who was standing on the grass, staring up at the dark sky, shoved him through the door, and stepped through after him. And into four inches of icy water.
It’s flooded, she thought, grabbing the torch and shining it down on the water and then along the walls to see if water was coming in somewhere. So this was what the neighbor meant by dampish.
“My shoes and socks are soaking,” Binnie said.
“I want to go back inside,” Theodore said.
“We can’t, not till the raid’s over.” She had to shout over the noise of the bombs and the Heinkel IIIs or whatever they were, their sound a heavy growl. Perhaps shutting the door would shut some of the racket out. She handed Binnie the torch and pulled the door shut and fastened it.
It didn’t help. The curved tin roof seemed to magnify and reverberate the sound, like shouting into a megaphone. How had people slept in these? She took the torch back from Binnie and shone it around the shelter. There were two very narrow bunks on each side, with shelves at the end by the door. On one sat an oil lamp with a glass chimney.
The hurricane, Eileen thought, lifting Theodore onto a top bunk, then waded over to light the lamp. It cast a dim, shadowy light.
“Look,” Binnie said, pointing. “There are spiders.”
“Where?” Theodore cried.
“In the water.”
Eileen replaced the glass chimney over the flame and switched off the torch. “It’s all right. They’ve all drowned.”
“Drowned?” Theodore wailed.
“I think the water’s gettin’ deeper,” Binnie said.
“No, it isn’t,” Eileen said firmly. “Get in your bunks. Binnie, you take that one.” She pointed to a lower bunk. “Alf, you climb up on top.”
“I want to go back inside,” Theodore said. “I’m cold.”
“Here’s your blanket,” Eileen said, picking it up. It was sopping wet. The tail must have dragged in the water. She took off her coat and tucked it around him.
“There’s no room in ’ere,” Binnie said from her bunk. “I can’t even sit up.”
“Then lie down and go to sleep,” Eileen said.
“With all that goin’ on?” Alf asked.
He had a point. The noise of engines and explosions was growing louder. There was a whoosh and then an explosion that shook the Anderson. The hurricane lamp rattled.
“Are we going to drown?” Theodore asked.
No, we’re going to be blown to bits, Eileen thought. And Binnie was right, there was no room in these bunks. She curled up on the lower one, shivering,