A short story. 70 years ago tomorrow\u2026 <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She stood on the platform at Haymarket and waited. Someone will come and help, she thought. The afternoon was cool, but the train brought with it a blast of warm air heavily laden with dust and the acrid smell of burning coke. Her heart sank as each coach passed by, finally coming to a stop too far away for her to clamber aboard with her bags. Then a young lad came up. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Can I help with those?\u2019 He pointed to the bags.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She nodded and he dragged them along the ground to catch up with the train. He reached the last carriage and hauled one bag and then the other up and onto the high step. The guard was blowing his whistle when the boy grabbed her hand and pulled her on board. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She gasped for breath, and her head spun so she sat down where she was on the hard floor. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Are you all right? Are you \u2026?\u2019 He couldn\u2019t finish the question. \u2018I could get help?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She smiled and shook her head. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I\u2019m here, that\u2019s all that matters. You are very kind. My bags are heavy.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Can I help you to a seat? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
He didn\u2019t look any older than sixteen and had a thin face with extraordinarily blue eyes and hair like stubbly stalks of hay. He helped her stand as the train began to pick up speed and he pulled back the door of an empty compartment and helped her inside.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I\u2019ll lift your bags onto the luggage rack.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She managed to steady herself and sit down. The boy sat opposite. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
They both stared out of the window. At first they saw rows of blackened tenements and dismal backyards strangled with washing lines. An old mangle and a rusty bike had been abandoned on an embankment. But soon there were flat fields of ploughed earth and the horizon opened up under an immense sky of steel grey. A flock of starlings furled and unfurled, disappearing into a copse of yellowing oak trees. Lilly settled back into her seat and allowed herself a long-drawn-out sigh. For the boy it was too much.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Are you sure you\u2019re all right? <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Don\u2019t worry, not due for a month. Where are you heading?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Dundee. Dad\u2019s got a job there. Commercial traveller, sells soap.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018I\u2019m going to Leuchars. If you\u2019ll give me hand with my bags when I get off I\u2019ll give you sixpence.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The boy suddenly stood up and pointed to the sky. An aeroplane came into view. It flew alongside the train and then looped off towards the north. It was dark green with a yellow circle painted on the body. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Spitfire,\u2019 he said. That\u2019s what I\u2019m going to do. Be a pilot.\u2019 He kept watching the plane until it disappeared. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Have you ever been up in an aeroplane?\u2019 asked Lilly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Nope. But I\u2019ll get a chance one day.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018That\u2019s what my husband does. Fly spitfires I mean. He\u2019s based at Turnhouse. The 603. Perhaps one day he could let you see inside one.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The lad\u2019s cheeks turned pink and the blue of his eyes intensified.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Do you think he would?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The train curved northwards, and the afternoon sun broke through the clouds. They approached the bridge and leaning her head against the window, Lilly could see ahead of them the rust red arches. She closed her eyes and felt the familiar fluttering inside her belly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
She opened them with a start when the train screeched to a stop and the boy was thrown across the compartment onto her lap. The weight of his body against her chest left her gasping for breath. As she pushed back he stumbled and fell on the floor, banging his face on the wooden edge of the seat. Blood began to pour from his nose. Her heart beat wildly, as if desperate not to deprive her baby of oxygen. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
They were under the first arch, and outside she saw men half climbing, half jumping from scaffolding. Even from that distance she could see fear in their eyes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The boy struggled to his feet, rubbing his face with a handkerchief. As the train finally shuddered to a halt, he pulled back the compartment door and went out into the corridor and looked downstream. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Lilly was still shaking. And then she felt a tightening across her stomach. It was painful, and the shock made her cry out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
The boy ran back inside. \u2018You\u2019re hurt. I\u2019ll find someone.\u2019 His nose had begun to bleed again and he wiped it with his sleeve.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They heard the drone of an engine coming nearer and nearer, until it seemed as if their eardrums would burst. Both of them instinctively slid between the <\/p>\n\n\n\n
seats to the floor. Lilly found herself holding his hands. When the next contraction came she squeezed hard. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
A long thin aeroplane with a triangular fin came into view. It was flying parallel with the bridge and they could see the gunner in his cockpit at the back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Ouch,\u2019 he said, pulling his hands away, and then with another look out at the sky, \u2018Germans.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At the same time, an explosion and a huge plume of water rose into the air and then seconds later, the grinding of train wheels as the train jerked and began to roll forward. Someone must have decided it was safer to be off the bridge. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018We\u2019re moving again,\u2019 Lilly whispered to herself. She began to cry and wrapped her arms around her baby. Again, a plane passed them, this time so close they could see the pilot in his cockpit. They saw the single engine of a spitfire. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018The 603,\u2019 shouted the boy. \u2018Up and at \u2018em.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A minute later the train was over the bridge on its way to Dundee. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018So it\u2019s begun,\u2019 sighed Lilly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She felt another contraction, but this time not so strong. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018What\u2019s your name?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Sandy,\u2019 he said. He was pacing the carriage up and down. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Same as my husband,\u2019 she said, cradling her bump. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
Fin<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" A short story. 70 years ago tomorrow\u2026 She stood on the platform at Haymarket and waited. Someone will come and help, she thought. The afternoon was cool, but the train brought with it a blast of warm air heavily laden with dust and the acrid smell of burning coke. Her heart sank as each coach […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[15],"tags":[20,17,19,18,16],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/97"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=97"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/97\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":102,"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/97\/revisions\/102"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=97"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=97"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/judithwharton.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=97"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}