had already started to coat her face as she peered out into the smoky grey darkness. Concrete dust was swirling around her, the only illumination provided by the eerie glow of thousands of blazes haloed by the fiery fog. Working her way carefully through the debris, she coughed as the brick dust and smoke combined into a heavy dry powder that caught in the back of her throat. Tentatively moving forward, unable to see more than a few feet in front of her, she continued to peer through the smog as the high-pitched, repetitive, rolling screech of the all-clear competed with the jangling bells of fire engines and ambulances. The whole experience creating a surreal, but now daily occurrence. The constant bombing was now being called the Blitz, after the German word for lightning war, Blitzkrieg.
As she staggered forward, many buildings were still on fire, flames leaping into the air, some reaching over one hundred feet, their searing heat heightening an already fractious night. Around her, weary people were trying to make their own way the best they could, no doubt desperate to check on family, friends and property. In front of her, firefighters stumbled across the roads, clambering through the rubble and pulling their heavy hoses, calling urgent instructions to one another as they tried to do their duty. Moving forward, carefully, Lizzie’s eyes began to adjust to the eerie atmosphere when something caught her eye.
In the middle of the road, a small figure stood stock-still, not moving or breathing, head tilted up to the sky. Lizzie stopped, drawn to the odd spectacle. Frantic people hurriedly pushed past the figure as they went on their way but no one seemed to see her, it was if she was not there. Lizzie was fascinated at how she could stand so perfectly still in the midst of so much activity, seemingly paralysed, unaware of the danger all around her. Lizzie scrambled towards her to see if she could help her and realized with surprise that it wasn’t a short adult, it was a young child, right in the centre of the road, dressed in a blue flannel nightie, her feet bare and dirt-spattered. Her blonde flyaway hair was golden, aglow from the fires that lit her up from behind. Lizzie looked around for her parents, but no one seemed to be searching for her, and she seemed to be entirely, completely alone. Stumbling over the bricks of what used to be an old church building, Lizzie reached her side and noticed that the girl’s eyes were firmly closed, her head tilted up, her palms facing upwards. If she’d been in church, you would have thought she was praying.
Lizzie reached out to her tentatively. ‘Hello there,’ she said in a quiet, calm voice. Hard for her to achieve when all around them, the aftermath of the bomb was creating hysteria.
Slowly, the young girl’s eyes opened, her blonde eyelashes blinking away the coat of dust that swirled around the two of them. Seeing Lizzie in front of her, her eyes widened and then she threw her arms around her waist, taking her breath away and almost knocking her down to the ground. She gripped Lizzie so tightly, she was afraid the young girl would lose sensation in her arms. A lump caught in her throat. She must be frightened to death. Taking hold of the tiny fingers and gently peeling them away from her waist, Lizzie bent down to talk to her eye to eye.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked gently, trying to keep her tone light and sound as English as she possibly could.
But the girl seemed to like the way Lizzie spoke and cocked her head to the side like a dog listening to the way she was speaking.
‘Is your mummy or your daddy about?’ continued Lizzie, asking quietly. Still, the girl didn’t answer. ‘My name’s Lizzie,’ she continued, and with that, the tiny child threw her arms around Lizzie’s neck and wrapped her feet around Lizzie’s waist, burying her head firmly into her shoulder.
Lizzie could hardly leave her now, she thought, as she heaved herself to her feet and, hugging her close, she started walking. With the little girl wrapped around her body, she scanned the street again, to see if anybody was looking for her or a house that she may have come from. Lizzie was in a part of town she didn’t know, quite a way from Julia’s house. Holding the little one in her arms she stumbled up