Maddie didn’t speak, just wrenched the small, wet boy from the man’s rigid
grip and stumbled back up the track, Harry huddled in her arms. There was
no sound of feet behind, and she wondered where the German was. But
when she looked around, she saw him still standing there, on the dunes.
He’d picked up the rusted warning sign and was staring at it, transfixed.
He didn’t move, didn’t speak; it was as if he was frozen to the spot.
The lad was silent too, with only the odd shiver running through him,
proof he was still awake. Still alive.
She looked down at his thin frame, pushed the soggy wet hair back from
his face. He didn’t resist, just clung on to her, trust mirrored in his huge
hazel eyes. Maddie headed back to the car, hardly noticing the weight of her
burden. Not much of a burden, for the boy felt light as a feather.
Warm, dry clothes, that’s what he needed. And food. And a comfortable
bed. A place of safety where he could snuggle beneath the covers and sleep
away the trauma. The child had been trapped in a minefield, had seen a
rabbit blown to pieces, been terrified for his life. But then children had great
powers of recovery. Didn’t they? That’s what she’d heard. But how did that
work? Because, right then, the poor little mite was limp, and didn’t seem to
have a lot of fight in him.
She bundled him into the front seat, out of the rain and howling wind,
and walked round to the back of the car, to retrieve the car-rug from the
boot.
She gasped in shock.
It had been a day of surprises: good, bad, unexpected; like having a
mine explode in front of your eyes. But Maddie, who thought of herself as
rational, stoic and in the main unflappable, now threw up her hands in
horror. There was no boot. Not as she remembered it.
Poor old Harriet! The car was a friend. And her friend had been
vandalised in the most dramatic way. The lid of the boot was tilted at a
crazy angle, balanced on one hinge only. It gave the car an odd, human-like
quality, like a face that had been flattened in a fight, the damaged hinge
hanging like a loose tooth.
The German. It would have been the German prisoner who did it!
Somehow, he’d managed to hide himself in her car, and to punch his way
out. And although she’d known nothing of his escape attempt, he couldn’t
have done it without her. She was responsible for helping her country’s
enemy. Her enemy! He’d used her! The damn man had used her! Made her
into some kind of traitor, if only by default. Just like Corporal Williams…
she remembered how the man had waved her through and thrown her a
wink. He was responsible too. He should have searched the staff car. She
wouldn’t have minded. She’d expected no less. And now they were both at
fault.
Maddie felt the burden of guilt press down heavily on her. She wanted
to cry. But you didn’t cry over spilt milk. That wouldn’t put it back in the
bottle, would it? Instead, she thought about young Harry waiting in the car,
miserable, soaking wet, thin shoulders shivering with cold. She squeezed
her hand carefully into the car boot and pulled out the rug.
Harry hadn’t moved. But when she tucked the plaid blanket around him,
he nodded, and said, ‘Thanks, miss.’
She remembered the Thermos flask of tea Lizzie had given her, and
retrieved it from the wicker basket on the back seat. It would warm the lad
up a bit.
Harry took it gratefully, cupping his shaking hands around it, slurping
the tea noisily. He wiped his mouth with the all-purpose sleeve of his
jumper and finally smiled up at Maddie. ‘Got any grub in there, miss?’ he
asked. The smile turned into a cheeky grin.
Maddie handed over one of the meat-paste sandwiches and watched half
of it rapidly disappear in one go. The resilience of youth. The boy must be
made of rubber to bounce back like that.
‘Miss…?’
‘Yes, Harry?’ She smiled. No one had ever warned the lad about
speaking with his mouth full. Or if they had, he’d taken no notice.
‘I needs to get back, miss. She don’t like it when I’m late for tea.’
‘Who?’
‘Mrs Edson.’
‘I see.’
‘She’s right partic’l’r, miss. Not like me ma. Ma’s great, she don’t never
mind how long I stay out. But we don’t have such good grub back home,’
he admitted, sheepishly. ‘That ain’t me ma’s fault, mind. She’s busy, see.
Works at the munitions factory. She don’t have no time, not for making tea
and stuff.’
‘Okay, we’ll get you home,’ said Maddie. ‘You can show me where you
live. That all right?’ She thought about the poor old boot lid, hanging on by
a thread, and the narrow track full of ruts – she’d need to drive slowly.
‘Maybe you can drop me up the lane, miss? I’ll walk to the ’ouse from
there, it ain’t that far.’
‘You don’t want me to go in, Harry? Don’t you think Mrs Edson should
know what happened? She might be worried. I could explain…’
‘Nah, that’s alright. I’ll tell her I got caught up in the rain.’
‘But she should know about this. It was dangerous what you did – you
know that, don’t you?’
‘I won’t do it no more, miss. Promise. Cross me heart and hope to die.’
‘Harry…’
‘What, miss?’
‘Mrs Edson – she doesn’t hit you, does she?’
‘What?! That old biddy? There ain’t no harm in ’er. She’s just a weird
old girl. Keeps to ’erself, like. Some of them others thinks she’s a witch, but
she ain’t.’
‘So, she’s never smacked you?’
‘Nah.’ Harry laughed at the idea. ‘Once she even hugged me. Kissed the
top of me ’ead. She’d never belt me, not like me ma.’
‘Your mother hits you?’
‘Me ma’s okay,’ he said quickly, a challenge in his eyes. ‘Only she gets
sad sometimes, what wiv the war an’ all. Gives me the odd clip round the
’ead. Ain’t nuthin’ much, and mas are allowed to do stuff like that, ain’t
they?’
Maddie didn’t argue. It wouldn’t help. She’d never had kids, and it
couldn’t be easy looking after them all by yourself with a husband away
fighting. Keeping a house, trying to scrape by on the ration, going to work
in a munitions factory, bombs falling around you. No, many women didn’t
have it easy. Would be struggling.
‘Okay. Eat up, I’ll drive you back. Oh, and Harry…’
‘Yeah?’ The lad was smiling now, and had requisitioned yet another
meat-paste sandwich from the basket.
‘I’m glad you’re okay. And it’s good to be an explorer, to go to new
places. But promise me you’ll never go near those sand dunes again.’
‘Said so, didn’t I? Crossed me heart an’ all.’ Harry grinned.
‘Right, let’s go.’ Maddie started up slowly, nosing the car carefully
along the bumpy track. Even so, a disturbing grinding noise came from the
back of the car. She held onto the steering wheel with a fierce, determined
grip and tried to block the unnerving sound from her ears.
‘Miss – that bloke were kind, the geezer what saved me. And I didn’t
say ta. Me ma would knock me block off for that.’
‘It’s okay, Harry. I’m sure he’ll understand.’
‘You’ll tell him, like?’ said Harry, getting agitated.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell him,’ she said. Though she wouldn’t, of course.
The man would be far away from there by now, on the run. An enemy
escapee. Her fault, and nothing she could do about it. Except report him – at
least she could tell the authorities that he’d been in Gunwalloe, last seen on
the dunes. But by now he could be anywhere.
‘Right, I’ll jump out ’ere,’ said the lad, pointing towards a decrepit
looking building.
Maddie pulled the car up beside it. It was a pub, or had been. With its
flaking paintwork and ancient signboard, the place looked abandoned, like
it had sold its last pint years ago.
‘You don’t live here, do you?’ asked Maddie, surprised.
‘Nah,’ said Harry. ‘That’s the Ship Inn. Smugglers owned it. Not now,
mind. Old boy what owns it now, he’s a cranky geezer. Chases me and
Jimmy off. Says we’re too young to drink.’ Harry grinned. ‘Wouldn’t mind
tryin’ it, like.’
‘The landlord’s right,’ agreed Maddie, ‘alcohol’s bad for you.’ She
thought about the Spingo waiting in the car – she planned to drink it
anyway.
The young lad fidgeted in his seat. Bored now. Wanting to get on with
more exciting stuff.
‘Right, off you go. You take care, young man,’ said Maddie. ‘And be
nice to Mrs Edson, you hear.’
‘Sure, miss. And… ta.’
‘What for?’ said Maddie.
‘For the tea and sarnies. Meat paste, they’re me favourite.’
Harry Foster grinned and shook her hand with an exuberance and
energy that seemed at odds with his skinny body and the frightening events
he’d just lived through. He slammed the car door behind him and went
running off down the lane, whistling something cheerful as he went.
