“Is that it for today, do you think?”
“I think there might be another wave on the way. I’ve told the boys we must be ready for anything. Vincent looked after you, I understand?”
Merlin nodded. He decided that he would very much like to have a further chat with members of the squadron about Kilinski, but now was not the time. Indeed the way things were going in the air, it might not be the time for the foreseeable future. He would have to see what interviews with de Souza, the Tarkowskis and perhaps other Poles in the legation would reveal. He shook hands with Kellett, thanked him, wished him all the best and headed back to collect Sonia.
Jan was asleep when he reached the hospital bed.
“They’ve sedated him because his shoulder was giving him real pain.”
Merlin might have asked Jan about the restaurant or if Kilinski had ever mentioned de Souza, but clearly it was time to go. Sonia protested, but she was by now completely exhausted by all the emotion and in the end came quietly.
*
Sam Bridges and his wife were taking a walk in Battersea Park when they heard it. The heavy drone of a large aeroplane grew louder and louder, but there was something wrong about the sound. Increasingly it was accompanied by a clattering, juddering noise.
Bridges took Iris under the cover of a park hut and they turned to watch the stricken aircraft appear from over the top of Prince of Wales Mansions trailing a stream of black smoke. They could see sparks of flame flaring on one of the wings. Higher above, Bridges thought he could see a couple of Spitfires shadowing what presumably had been their target. As the bomber passed above them, the engines made a screeching sound as the pilot struggled to find some thrust.
After it had passed over them, Bridges ran in the direction of the Thames and moments later heard a loud explosion. Reaching the roadway nearest the river he could see a tall column of smoke and flames rising from the direction of Victoria.
Back at the hut he found Iris sitting on a bench, crying. “What’s the matter, love?”
“A fine gentleman, you are! Deserting your pregnant wife like that.”
Bridges sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry, Iris. Got caught up in the moment.”
Iris dabbed her nose with a handkerchief. “What happened then?”
“Well, it crashed. Somewhere in Victoria.”
“Theirs or ours?”
“One of their bombers, a Dornier I think, but some civilians will have got hurt when it came down, I shouldn’t wonder.”
Iris shuddered. “Put your hand here, Sam. She’s giving me a right old kicking.”
“What do you mean she? It’s young Winston, isn’t it?” He put his hand on her stomach and indeed felt a tremor against his fingers. “He’s a right old one, isn’t he? Going to play for Chelsea, I think!”
“What do you mean Chelsea, Sam Bridges? He’s going to be a Gunner just like his old uncle Alf, God rest his soul!”
“Alright, alright, Iris. Whatever you say. Let’s get back home now and have a nice cup of tea.”
*