Chapter 21
Tilly watched as the boat receded into the distance.
Somewhere on board, Jed would be searching for her.
He’d told her to stick close but, once they had been separated, the crowds made it impossible for her to keep up with him.
She just hoped that he would be able to find his way to East Cowes and give the family news of her, although the news that she was stranded in France would not give them much encouragement.
Fliss must have got safely on board and she was the one who was left stranded.
There was nothing she could do about it.
She looked back towards the town, a tangle of broken buildings covered in plumes of smoke.
She could hear explosions in the distance and the roar of tanks advancing towards Dunkirk.
They couldn’t stay there and just wait to be captured. She leaned over the boy.
‘Come on, you have to get up,’ she said. ‘The Germans will be here any moment. I don’t even know your name. I’m Tilly.’
‘Eric,’ the boy replied.
‘Well, Eric, lean on me and we’ll try to get out of here.’
Progress was going to be slow and she had no idea how they were going to avoid the German patrols.
They had nothing to protect themselves and, even if they’d had a gun, Tilly had not been trained in how to use one.
Eric had lost his rifle and was in no fit state to use a gun anyway.
They walked slowly and painfully off the mole.
Tilly scanned the smouldering buildings around her for a place to hide.
If they could just get somewhere where they could hide, somewhere where she could safely leave Eric, then she could go in search of water.
They at least needed that — food was probably out of the question.
Tilly spotted an open doorway, which led inside a warehouse building.
She helped Eric inside and saw that it was stacked with pallets holding bags of flour and canned goods.
This might not be a good place to hide out, for once the Germans arrived they would be looking to boost their own supplies of food for their troops.
She decided they should move on. They were just leaving the building when a small boy spotted them and beckoned them to follow him.
He had a wild look in his eyes and kept repeating, ‘I help. Par ici.’
They followed the boy down several side streets, passing burnt-out cars and army vehicles, until he stopped outside a cafe.
Once inside, the boy led them through to a room at the back, dragged a table to one side and stamped on a trapdoor five times.
There was the sound of a bolt being drawn back and the boy stood back while the trapdoor lifted.
A dim light shone out of the gloomy hole and the boy indicated that they should climb down.
A woman’s face appeared, followed by her body.
She was about Tilly’s age and wore her hair tucked under a scarf.
She had grubby dungarees on and heavy boots on her feet.
A frown creased her forehead when she saw the state that Eric was in and her voice had a sense of urgency.
‘We must help him down,’ she said in broken English that was still a good deal better than Tilly’s French.
Thank goodness for that, Tilly thought, at least we will be able to communicate.
A young man appeared from the dark hole and between them they managed to lower Eric into the cellar.
The young woman placed a coin in the small boy’s hand and smiled at him.
Tilly navigated the ladder and, once they were all inside, the bolt was drawn across and Tilly heard the table being dragged back into place.
She looked around the dimly lit space and, as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she took in their hiding place.
There were several pallets on the floor serving as sleeping platforms. They were strewn with grubby-looking blankets.
They lowered Eric onto one of them and the young woman, seeing the bloodstains on his shirt, unbuttoned it and pulled back the bandage.
She wrinkled her nose at the smell exuding from the wound.
In one corner of the cellar there was a makeshift cooker and a means of making coffee and cooking basic food.
There was a table covered in maps and paperwork.
Several rucksacks were stacked in one corner.
The young woman went to one and took out a bottle of liquid, a roll of clean bandage and some antiseptic cream.
She returned to Tilly and gave them to her.
‘Here, you see to him. My name is Celine,’ she said. ‘Give him a little morphine, but this is our last bottle.’
‘I’m Tilly. Am I pleased to see you!’
‘You’re lucky that Robert found you. It won’t be long until the German troops are here. You don’t want to become a prisoner of war. The Germans do not treat women kindly.’
‘Can you help us?’ Tilly asked. ‘We missed the last boat back to England. God knows how long it will be until the British soldiers come back.’
‘Are you a nurse?’ Celine said.
‘I am. I’m also an ambulance driver,’ Tilly replied.
‘Then you can be of help to us. We can’t guarantee to get you home, but we can keep you safe until you can re-join your unit.’