My bedroom is in darkness. It isn’t the kind of darkness where demons and their shadows hide in the corner. No! This was more a scary than that; it’s so black that I think I’ve gone blind. Mum knows I’m afraid of the dark yet she has caused this blackness.
The hall light was on when she put me to bed, and she left the door open a wee bit when she tucked me in. “Now you get to sleep, there’s no school tomorrow, but that isn’t an excuse to lie awake. So get your head down.” She went to the window and pulled down the black window blind and drew across the curtains. “You’ll be all right now, we have to make sure the bad men don’t see the light.” She closed the door and left me alone in the dark and I’m frightened. Gran keeps telling me that bad men love the dark. She quotes from the Bible, stories of evil people that do bad things in the dark. I can’t understand why she and Mum can’t agree on the things the bad men like?
I think big people believe us kids are stupid. Our teacher says all the boys in my class are barmy, but he still hasn’t caught my best mate Billy taking the mickey out of him when he is writing on the blackboard. Mum doesn’t know about the torch under the pillow, well, she pretends she doesn’t. I’ve got a comic here so I’ll have a look at what Desperate Dan is doing. Actually I know ‘cause it’s an old one I’ve read before. They stopped selling them when the war started.
The window blind doesn’t keep out the noise. Wonder what that squealing noise is? When Dad took me to that farm to get eggs there were pigs that sounded like that. Haven’t seen much of my Dad lately; Mum says he’s only here for a wee while, he’s home on leave. Whatever that is. Dad lifts me from my bed, and trails the bedclothes with me. “C’mon son, gotta go, gotta go.” He carries me into the street where Mum is waiting. Old Simpson, the policeman shouts, ”Into the shelters, get into the frigging shelters.” He’s always saying bad words. “No bloody way,” Dad yells back at him. Could Dad get arrested for yelling at a policeman? “Chrissie, get into the house,” he shouts. I’m scared, Dad doesn’t usually shout at Mum.
The bright lights in the sky hurt my eyes. Dad calls them searchlights, but he doesn’t tell me what they are searching for. He shoves us into the space under the stairs. There’s a stinking smell coming from all that wood he had put in here. Support bracing he called it. Mum put a mattress down on the floor last week and we lie on it. It’s very lumpy and sticks into my back. I can’t breathe because Dad is lying on top of me, he wont get off, even though I’m shouting and crying. He never hurt me like that before; maybe he doesn’t love me any more. I fall asleep. Mum’s shaking me. Doesn’t hurt, she’s always gentle. “C’mon son, its over. Put on your clothes and shoes.” She must have got them from my bedroom. There’s glass everywhere, our windows lie all smashed on the parlour floor. Dust is covering everything, my bike’s all mangled. Mum holds onto my hand and makes sure I don’t walk on the broken glass on the floor, I’m glad I’ve put on my shoes. We run down the hall into the street. There must be thousands of people moving about. Everyone seems to be doing something. Water is spouting from the ground into the air, just like it does in the fountain at the park. The whole street appears to be on fire. Dad is helping to clear stones from where the shelters used to be. He turns round and sees us, at the same time I see a wee arm sticking out of a pile of bricks. I want to run away.
“Chrissie, you shouldn’t be here with the young lad, go back inside. Mum is annoyed with him. “Jack, there’s no water or lights in the house and I can smell gas. We’re better out here.” She looks around, and whispers, “ Was that Mrs Devine’s wee boy in the rubble? “Chrissie be quiet, Jackie will hear you. Yes, the whole family was in the shelter. It took a direct hit.” They think I don’t hear them, but I do. The lady from the Salvation Army comes marching down the street followed by a lot of my mates and their mothers. She shouts over to my Mum, “We’re going round to the hall for the rest of the night. Are you coming?” I hear Dad say we should. Mum takes me over to her. “Take the wee lad, I’ll stay here and give a hand.” Mum gives me a hug and I go off with the rest of my mates. As I turn the corner I look back and see Mum and Dad working among the dirt of the shelters.
I’m still frightened.
John Galbraith
