Chapter 28
When the flashbulb popped, half the people in the crowd flinched. Frankie, face still smeared with grime, had been posed on a pile of rubble. A smart young man in a suit had handed him a Union Jack on a stick and told him to wave it.
Half the crowd had flags. Most held them listlessly by their sides.
A few got into the spirit, cheering when Churchill stepped from his car.
A flying visit, surveying the damage. More than a few onlookers had things to say under their breath.
The early editions of the papers had told one version of the story.
The docks had been the target. The rest of London had been largely untouched.
Someone passed Cook a paper. The front page was dominated by a picture of Tower Bridge, a column of smoke behind it.
COWARDLY RAID ON LONDON DOCKS
FEW CASUALTIES
LONDON CAN TAKE IT!
Cook looked at the crowd, most of whom sullenly watched Churchill as he made his inspection. London may or may not have had an opinion on whether it could take it, but the islanders knew what taking it meant. The island was finished.
‘Where are we going to go?’ a brave voice rang out. A uniformed police constable took a step towards the trouble-maker, and the bravery evaporated.
Churchill returned to the safety of his armoured car. A wise move, Cook thought. He’d been curious to see the great man in person. He looked tired. Must have spent the night waiting for the invasion, as they all had.
One thing was certain, another few nights like the one they’d just survived, and there wouldn’t be much left to invade.