Page 37 of The Lost Story of Sofia Castello

36

LONDON, 1941

‘Do you know where the nearest shelter is?’ I asked, trying to keep the panic from my voice as people began running across the bridge.

‘Do you believe in fate?’ Trafalgar called over the siren’s screech.

‘What?’ I stared at him, bewildered. Maybe I’d misheard. ‘I said, do you know where the shelter is?’ I yelled.

‘And I said, do you believe in fate?’ he yelled back.

What on earth? I glared at him. ‘Do you really think this is the best time for a philosophical discussion?’

‘Of course!’ he replied. ‘What better time to philosophise than when you’re facing death?’

‘Are you crazy?’

‘Maybe.’ He looked at me, his eyes wide.

A man wearing a uniform and a helmet with ARP painted on it ran past blowing a whistle. ‘Get in the shelter – the Germans are coming,’ he screamed.

‘Could we please have this scintillating discussion about fate in an air-raid shelter?’ I asked, looking at the sky nervously. ‘Mary told me you only get about ten minutes’ warning once the siren starts.’

‘Who’s Mary?’

‘That doesn’t matter.’

‘Do you believe in fate?’ he asked yet again.

‘I don’t know, but I can tell you that you’re fated to be punched on the nose unless you take me to a shelter this instant!’

He began to laugh. ‘OK. Fair enough. Come on.’

We started running after the other people and off the bridge, where I thankfully spied a sign for the London Underground. We raced down the steps into the station. The ticket barriers had been opened to allow us to swarm onto the platforms to shelter. It was so crowded when we got there, people were down on the tracks too. The air was musty and humid and smelled of urine and alcohol.

‘It’s not too late to change your mind, you know,’ Trafalgar muttered in my ear.

‘And go where? Back outside to get bombed to smithereens?’

‘I know somewhere. Somewhere safe-ish where we can be alone and watch.’

‘Watch what?’ I stared at him, confused.

‘The sky. It really is quite something once the searchlights and anti-aircraft fire get going.’

I was about to call him crazy again when a red-faced man grabbed my arm.

‘Hang on a moment, ain’t you that singer?’ he asked, breathing beery fumes into my face.

My heart sank. The last thing I needed was to be recognised in such a crowded and confined space. I glanced at Trafalgar.

‘Come on,’ he said, grabbing my arm, and, unsure what to do for the best, I found myself following him back up the stairs, against the current of people still streaming down.

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ A warden standing on duty at the entrance demanded just as the air filled with a low ominous hum.

‘Here they come,’ Trafalgar exclaimed. ‘Quick!’ He grabbed my hand, and we started running back towards the river.

‘Where are we going?’ I cried as the hum of the planes grew louder. Then I heard a rattling sound and looked up to see trails of silver lights streaking across the night sky like fireworks. The beam of a searchlight swept across in an arc, and I glimpsed the outlines of planes flying in a V formation, like an arrowhead aiming straight for the heart of the city.

‘Quick!’ Trafalgar yelled, pulling me towards a set of stone steps next to the bridge. We raced down and onto the muddy bank of the river. ‘Under here,’ he called, ushering me beneath the arch of the bridge.

While I was relieved to have something to shelter beneath, I wasn’t sure how much good it would be if the Germans were to bomb the bridge, I felt my fear begin to rise again.

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked as the planes roared by overhead.

I could barely breathe, let alone think as I prayed with all my might we weren’t about to be blown sky-high. One by one, the planes roared over and then they were gone. But any relief I felt was short-lived as I heard the boom of an explosion, followed by another and another, causing the ground beneath us to tremble.

‘I think you’re completely insane,’ I said, biting on my lower lip to stop it from quivering. There was no way I was going to let this crazy person see me cry. I’d just have to wait it out under the bridge with him and then demand we go back to the Savoy, give him the sheet music and never, ever see him again. And to think that I’d given up somewhere with a cosy shelter complete with beds and a dance floor for this. Even sitting through another ten courses with Bertrand would have been preferable at this point.

‘I get the feeling you’re angry with me,’ he said as I crouched on the ground.

‘Really?’ I replied sarcastically. ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’

‘I’m sorry, I just…’ He sat down beside me and gazed glumly at the water lapping at the riverbank.

‘What? Have a death wish?’

‘No. I’m just sick of…’ Again, he fell silent.

‘Sick of what?’

‘Being made to feel scared,’ he said quietly, sounding really subdued.

I stared at him, completely baffled. ‘So, in order to feel less scared, you come outside during an air raid?’

‘Yes.’ He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and offered them to me. I practically tore one in half in my haste to grab it. He lit our smokes and took a long drag on his before continuing. ‘It’s my way of saying up yours to the Jerrys.’

‘Up your what?’

‘Up your arse.’

‘Don’t you mean, bottle and glass?’ I said, softening just a little.

He laughed. ‘Yes! We’ll make a cockney of you yet.’

‘But the Germans can’t see what you’re doing, so what difference does it make?’

He looked at me. ‘That may be so, but I know what I’m doing and, let me tell you, it makes me feel a whole lot better than cowering in a shelter.’

I nodded. I still thought he was crazy, but I could see a certain logic to his hare-brained thinking. As someone who has always hated being made to feel a victim, I quite liked the notion of saying ‘up your arse’ or the equivalent to the Germans – even if it did make you more likely to be killed.

‘And I believe in fate,’ he added.

‘So you keep saying.’ I took a drag on my cigarette. ‘Well, go on then, explain.’

‘I believe that certain things are meant to happen. Important things – like when you’re born…’ He paused. ‘And when you’re going to die.’

‘You believe that we all have a predestined date of death as well as a date of birth?’

‘Yes. So, if my number’s up, it’s up, but in the meantime I’m not going to let those bastards ruin my fun.’ There was a bitterness to his tone which felt like a stark contrast to the sunny disposition I’d seen from him so far, but I guessed that nine months of relentless bombing could do that to even the cheeriest person. I felt myself soften towards him again.

‘I think I understand,’ I said. ‘I’m just not sure if I believe that the way we’re going to die is predestined. Or rather, I don’t know if I want to.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because then it would mean that my mother was fated to die of cancer when I was just sixteen,’ I muttered.

‘Oh shit, I’m sorry.’ He moved a little closer so that our arms were almost but not quite touching. ‘So that’s the true story?’

‘Yes.’

‘I can see why you’d want to keep that private; it must have been very painful.’

I nodded.

‘I didn’t mean to be insensitive.’

‘I know. You weren’t to know what had happened to her.’

‘But still. You only just got here and I dragged you out into an air raid.’

‘My first ever air raid,’ I added.

‘I’m sorry. I just thought that…’

‘What?’

The air seemed to thicken around us, and the explosions faded into the distance.

‘You seemed like such a good sport.’

‘I am!’ I replied indignantly. ‘I just don’t want to die.’ I paused for a moment. ‘Especially when I’m having so much fun.’

‘Being here in London?’ he asked.

‘Yes, and being in London with you,’ I said so quietly my voice could barely be heard over the rattle of the anti-aircraft fire. I couldn’t believe how forward I’d been, and it left me instantly feeling vulnerable.

Trafalgar leaped to his feet and punched the air. ‘Yes!’

‘What was that for?’ I couldn’t help grinning. He was such a live wire and so unpredictable, but I found it strangely intoxicating. Once again, I had the sensation of being jolted wide awake after a very long, deep sleep.

‘You said you like me,’ he replied.

‘Er, no I did not.’

‘You said you were having fun with me.’

I nodded.

‘And have you ever had fun with someone you don’t like?’

I thought for a while before nodding again. ‘Yes, if I’m torturing them with my quick wit and biting sarcasm.’

‘Damn!’ he sighed.

‘But that’s not what’s happening here,’ I found myself blurting out.

‘It’s not?’ He started to grin again. ‘So, you do like me?’

‘Potentially,’ I replied, although I already knew that I did. If I’m really honest, I knew it the second I caught sight of his twinkling eyes peering over that Savoy menu at me.

Oh, if only I’d known what fate – or rather misfortune – had in store for me.

‘She potentially likes me!’ Trafalgar cried, and, as if on cue, a silver stream of anti-aircraft fire blazed a trail in the sky above his head.