Chapter 25 #2
When the entire village was held at gunpoint in the church and the vicar, who’d tried to ring the church bell as a warning, was shot in cold blood, you could have heard a pin drop.
But what really disturbed Florence were the scenes which, naturally enough, showed the villagers fighting back; even the postmistress took an axe to her German guard and killed him outright.
It wasn’t that they shouldn’t fight back, of course they should, but she couldn’t help feeling vulnerable.
What might happen to Florence herself if anyone found out that her father was German?
Now that Mrs Wicks had inadvertently hit the nail on the head she didn’t feel secure.
Meadowbrook had been her sanctuary but was this going to follow her all her life?
‘The area is being evacuated,’ a gutsy woman in the film was saying. ‘We need to release the children first.’
But a young boy had already climbed out of a window to run for help and Florence flinched when he was shot trying to escape the German soldiers.
‘All right?’ Bruce whispered.
She nodded but didn’t speak.
At the end the audience cheered. The plucky British villagers had won the day and now people were standing up, laughing and chatting about the film.
The disembodied voice of the loudspeaker broke into the general hubbub. ‘An unexploded bomb has …’ A loud crackle broke up her words.
‘What was that?’ Florence asked Bruce and heard other people saying the same thing.
The voice continued, ‘… so, in the light of this will you please vacate your seats in an orderly fashion and head—’
They began to move but heard an explosion from somewhere outside the building, and the house lights went out again.
The older lady who had been sitting in the seat next to Florence gripped hold of her by the elbow. ‘Can I stick with you, m’dear? I dropped my spectacles and I don’t see too well in the dark.’
‘Of course. Hold tight. We just need to head for the exit.’
‘Did she tell us where the bomb was? The lady on the loudspeaker?’
‘It went off already, somewhere outside. We heard it. Don’t worry,’ Florence said. ‘Just hang on to me. Best to get out quickly now.’
By then Bruce was a few steps away from her, heading up the aisle, although in the dark she couldn’t see him. Somehow, she’d let go of his hand but she could hear him call out to her.
‘I’m here,’ she shouted above the general noise and confusion. ‘You carry on.’
People were used to unexploded bombs, but you didn’t want to be trapped inside in the dark.
She felt the sting of fear. You never knew if there might be another about to go off.
She clasped hold of the woman and almost dragged her along the aisle.
Whether there was any danger or not, people were still pushing and shoving, and you couldn’t help holding your breath until you were safely outside.
But then an usherette appeared on the balcony above and shone a torch onto the stairs.
The light made everything better and, relieved, Florence scrambled towards them making sure the woman was still holding tight.
A few moments later, along with a flood of excited people, they reached the top of the stairs and were swept across the foyer to the open front doors.
Once outside, with unshed tears glistening in her eyes, the woman thanked Florence for her help.
Florence smiled, told her it was nothing and then glanced around to look for Bruce.
An acrid smell of burning filled the air and everyone was milling around asking each other what they’d seen.
Bruce waved and motioned for her to follow him, and they walked down a narrow alley to an area behind the cinema which was being cordoned off.
Florence saw policemen, wardens, and parents in clusters clutching their children.
She stared at smoke still drifting from scattered fires, and debris spawned by the explosion that had been propelled in every direction.
But worse, a crater about fifteen feet wide with raised edges met her eyes, a dreadful wound in the earth.
The children’s schoolyard had been destroyed.
She glanced at the school itself, its walls blown outwards, drainpipes dislodged, windows shattered and evidence of the blast in the holes that peppered its walls.
In the distance, the sound of children’s voices.
‘Dear God,’ she whispered and turned to see the back of the cinema covered in blast holes too. ‘We were awfully close.’
‘Bloody UXBs. Even more dramatic than the damn film,’ Bruce said wryly. ‘Although that postmistress with the axe – the look on her face. Terrifying. Next time let’s make sure we come to see a love story.’
‘Or a comedy,’ she suggested. ‘I don’t think I can take any more shocks. A good laugh is what I need.’
After the drama had faded, Florence focused constantly on the incident that had happened in the library.
The thought of what the woman might be spreading about her haunted her and her life in Devon felt fragile.
She hadn’t seen Bruce since that night. He had written to her, twice.
Once to say how much he’d enjoyed the film with her despite the dramatic ending to their outing.
And then, just before they were due to meet again, he sent her a note saying his mother was ill and between looking after her and his duties at the hospital he wouldn’t be free for a little while.
She felt disappointed but wrote back wishing Grace well.
Although she longed for Jack to hold her, to feel his body strong and comforting – which it would be, she knew it would be – she hadn’t shared her worry about whatever gossip Mrs Wicks might be circulating.
Instead, she told Gladys, who didn’t know the truth about her father, and Gladys had said not to worry and promised to have a word in the village.
Of course, Florence did still worry. How could she not?
And the thought of Friedrich and Anton frequently played on her mind too, and she hoped they were safe.
And now, in these days of waiting, she and Jack listened to the wireless in nervous expectation, as the news came fast and furious.
On 2 May, when they heard that Berlin had surrendered to the Russian Army, Jack cheered and Florence clapped, and then again two days later, when a section of the German Army surrendered.
‘Jack,’ she asked, ‘how will things be in Germany? For Friedrich and Anton, I mean.’
‘I really don’t know. One thing is certain, their lives won’t be easy. At least not for a while.’
On 7 May, the newsreader on the wireless announced that the new German President, Admiral Karl Donitz, had authorised the unconditional surrender of the armed forces of Nazi Germany. The newsreader added that the very next day would be celebrated throughout Great Britain as Victory in Europe Day.
Florence and Jack gazed at each other with tears in their eyes.
So much had happened to them both during this interminable war, it was almost impossible to believe that in Europe, at least, it was over.
She closed her eyes for a moment as her thoughts travelled to her sisters in France and to all the people who had suffered so terribly there.
And then, unable to stop herself, she wept with Jack holding her in his arms.