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side or beneath the bed when another noise came to us, a harsh, demented
rattling from the corridor outside our room. She tried to burrow into me and I
wasn't sure which was scaring her most. The rattling grew louder, a terrible
cacophony that resembled a stick running along iron railings, only a thousand
times more piercing.
Then we heard the old warden's voice.
'Air raid warning, everyone under cover, please go to your nearest shelter!'
The door burst open and Potter's bright flashlight lit us up on the bed. We
shielded our eyes and the light dropped. I blinked away the dazzle and when I
looked back at the doorway I saw there were two figures standing there.
Another blast outside - this one mercifully further off, the German bomber
moving onwards - diverted my attention for a moment or two, and when I turned
towards the doorway again, only Albert Potter was standing there, flashlight
in one hand, his air raid warning rattle in the other. The second figure,
Cissie, had gone.
11
I BROUGHT THE FLATBED truck round, a hard left from the Embankment into the
gentle rise that ran between the park and the Savoy's rear entrance, and was
surprised to see Cissie sitting on the kerbside opposite the hotel. I grinned
when I saw who was keeping her company and I wondered at it too.
They both looked up when they heard the chug of the truck's diesel engine and
the girl's concerned frown switched to a guarded smile of welcome when she
realized I was the driver. Cagney quickly rose from his haunches and gave a
pleased yap, then chased after me when I drove on by. I headed towards the end
of the narrow street where there was room to turn the long vehicle round so it
faced the right direction, easy to get away in a hurry should the need arise.
Another road ran beneath the buildings at the end of the street, but it was
blocked by other vehicles, its first few clear yards only good for
manoeuvring. A few hundred yards away one of the buildings of London's law
courts was still smouldering from last night's bomb damage, but I couldn't see
any other wreckage. The crazy German bomber pilot was unpredictable, but I
hoped he'd had his fill of laying waste for a while: sometimes he came over
several nights in a row, sometimes he wouldn't appear for a few months; I
guess it all depended on his disposition. I hoped some day a bomb would jam in
its bay and blow him and his
Dornier to smithereens. After completing the laborious parking procedure, the
truck's left wheels cracking pavement stones, I jumped down from the cab and
made a fuss of Cagney, who'd been waiting for me.
I ruffled his ears, something he didn't like, never had, and he growled low
and menacing, so I did it some more. Before he got too riled I hugged him to
me and got a face full of tongue for my kindness. The taste of dust didn't
seem to bother him and he would have slobbered me to death if I hadn't stood
and pushed him down when he reared up with me. Taking the hint at the second
shove, Cagney trotted off back along the street, making, to my surprise,
straight for Cissie, who was still sitting on the kerb observing us.
Cissie averted her gaze before I reached her, studying some point in the
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distance, her neck and shoulders kind of stiff-like. I sat next to her, laying
my leather jacket with its added weight of Colt .45 on the ground between us.
'Hyah,' I ventured.
'Hello,' she responded without much interest.
Cagney settled in the middle of the road, facing us, head resting on his paws.
He yawned as he watched us.
'Hot day again,' I said, making conversation.
The back of Cissie's head bobbed in agreement. Today she was wearing a
dark-brown dress that matched her hair, puffed at the shoulders, slim at the
waist No stockings and, when she finally turned my way, I saw she wore no
make-up. She eyed the dust in my hair, on my hands, on my face, but ignored it
for the moment.
'Is that your dog?'
'He's nobody's dog.'
'He was waiting outside when I came down for a breath of fresh air. I thought
he was a stray.'
'He didn't run away?'
'He was wary at first, so I just sat there and talked to him and after a while
he came over and sort of slouched down next to me. Wouldn't let me pat him
though, moved away every time I tried.'
'Cagney doesn't like people very much. Seems to think they're to blame for
everything that's happened.'
'Did you say Cagney? His name's Cagney?' At last her face cracked into a
smile. 'After James Cagney?'
'Well his real name's probably Rex or Red, but he wasn't saying when we met
up. I decided on Cagney and the mutt didn't seem to mind.'
'Has he been with you for long?'
'Coupla years, maybe.'
The sun beat down on the dusty roadway and pretty soon Cagney's eyes drooped
shut. I took a rumpled rag from my pants pocket and wiped sweat from the back
of my neck and underneath my chin.
'D'you have any idea what time it is?' Cissie asked, a coolness still there in
her tone.
I looked over my shoulder and squinted up at the sun. "Bout four, I'd guess.
Busted my watch way back, had no use for it anyhow. Hell, I got no
appointments to keep.'
'So where have you been all day?' She was looking directly at me now and I
wondered at the suspicion in her eyes. 'You left before any of us were awake.
Even before Muriel was awake, apparently,' she
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