The Silent War by Victor Pemberton Page A

Sunday had just heard were a chilling reminder that the war was not yet over.
    In fact, it was about to begin all over again.

Chapter 5
    Overnight, elation turned to anxiety and fear. Whatever it was that had dropped out of the sky during the night of Tuesday, 13 June, everyone was now convinced that the first of Hitler’s retaliatory secret weapons had arrived. Despite the fact that the explosion had occurred somewhere on the outskirts of London, most people in ‘the Buildings’ had heard it, and some, like Sunday, swore that they had actually seen that mysterious flame lighting up the dark night sky somewhere over the East End of London. Although the newspapers were very cagey about giving any details of the secret weapon, Doll Mooney was taking no chances, and from the first moment she heard that explosion she made all her four kids wear their gas masks in bed at night. The only hope now for a quick end to the war was the Allied invasion in France, now at the end of its second week, and gaining momentum.
    Sunday, however, had other problems. The incident in Finsbury Park two nights previously had not only got her into trouble with the police, but it had also left Harry Smike with a fractured jaw and two broken front teeth. Worse still, Ernie Mancroft appeared to be getting off scot-free, having denied any part in the savage and unprovoked attack on the young airman. Sunday had always disliked Ernie but now she hated him. Sometimes she felt as though he was obsessed with her; all this talk about her belonging to him frightened her. She might have taunted him a little but she had never given him any reason to think about her like that. In fact, even though she had to work with him at the Bagwash each day, she had done everything in her power to ignore him. The way he had set upon poor Harry Smike had terrified her. Ernie came from a family of ‘bruisers’, a pig of a father and five sons who all went around as though they owned the place. If anyone ever dared say one word out of place they would give them a hiding they’d never forget. Ernie took after his dad and brothers all right. He was tough, strong, and very muscular, and he used that strength with horrifying brutality. Sunday’s only hope was that once he was called up, the Army would knock the living daylights out of him.
    ‘Yer know somefin’, Sun,’ said Pearl, sweat pouring down her face as she and Sunday worked the Bagwash tubs, ‘we din’t oughta be workin’ durin’ an air-raid. That siren went nearly two hours ago. It’s dangerous up ’ere. We all oughta be down in the cellars.’
    ‘Some hopes,’ replied Sunday, who was at the scrubbing board trying hard to remove dirt from a shirt collar. ‘If we lost five minutes’ work that bloody woman’d stop it from our wages!’
    ‘You’re absolutely right, Collins.’
    Both Sunday and Pearl turned with a start to find Ma Briggs, hands on hips, fag in mouth, standing just behind them.
    ‘An’ I’ll tell yer anuvver fing, Miss Clever Arse,’ she said, taking the fag from her lips and pointing it straight at Sunday, ‘one more word out of you, and you’re out!’
    Sunday suddenly lost her cool. ‘You’ve got no right to keep us up here during an air-raid,’ she snapped. ‘Those flying bombs come over without warning. We could all get killed.’
    ‘There ’asn’t bin an air-raid for munfs,’ bawled Ma Briggs, furious that the girl had answered her back. ‘If you fink I’m goin’ ter stop work every time the bleedin’ siren goes, yer’ve got anuvver fink comin’!’
    ‘
You
don’t stop work, Mrs Briggs – because
you
never start it!’ At this point, Sunday had abandoned any idea of caution. ‘We’re the ones who do the work round here, not you!’
    Pearl gasped, and dropped the washing soap she was using into the tub. Around her ‘Baggies’ everywhere stopped what they were doing, and were staring at Sunday and Ma Briggs in astonishment.
    Ma Briggs was seething. She tossed