Saint Paul’s appeared undamaged, but as Emmy gingerly made her way east toward home, the destructionfrom the day before began to reveal itself: crushed buildings, broken windows, blackened brick, roofs missing or caved in. Fire and rescue crews were rushing about with a hundred tasks to attend to; they had no time to bother with a fifteen-year-old girl who hobbled resolutely down debris-choked streets. The closer Emmy got to the flat, the more her heart began to pound. She passed the intersection that would take her to Primrose. She didn’t know whether Mrs. Crofton’s shop still stood but she could not take the time now to see. Her only aim was to make sure Julia and Mum were all right.
Emmy passed a rescue crew digging in wreckage. A dead man lay at their feet, his eyes open and vacant, his nose and mouth covered with dried blood. Another man was being tended to. His shoes had been blown off and his shattered legs hung from his pant legs like laundry on the line. “Where’s my Lucy?” he was saying.
Two more rescue workers were pushing away rubble to get to an outstretched hand. “Hold on. We’re coming for you,” one of the workers said. He reached for the hand to assure the trapped person that help was on the way. The hand and half of its severed arm tumbled toward him at his touch.
Emmy turned away to vomit into the gutter. The paltry contents of her stomach landed on a baby’s crib toy.
She wheeled away from the scene, holding a hand over her mouth and willing herself to look at nothing but her feet. Finally, she turned down her street. The first few buildings were fine. But then she could see that the row of flats across the street from where she lived had been flattened, squashed as if they’d been made of cardboard. With relief she saw that the flats on her side of the street still stood. But the explosions from acrossthe street had taken out every front window. Whole sections of roof were missing and Thea’s front door hung by one hinge.
Emmy hobbled up to her front door and felt for the key under the mat. She wrenched open the door, calling Mum and Julia’s names.
Glass and ash covered the sitting room floor. She limped into the kitchen. More broken glass. She turned to hobble up the stairs.
“Mum! Julia!”
Emmy threw open Mum’s bedroom door. Debris littered her bed. The blackout curtains from her window overlooking the street hung in tattered threads.
She limped into Julia’s room, where she met the same scene.
They weren’t there.
Emmy’s head throbbed. She made her way back downstairs and pulled out a kitchen chair. She sank into it to wait for them to return from the shelter. She had eaten nothing in nearly twenty-four hours and she marveled that her stomach could growl for food after what she had seen that morning. But she was too tired to see whether there was anything edible left. There was no electricity. Whatever was still in the fridge was probably spoiled. She leaned forward to rest her head on the table.
Emmy startled awake when she heard a voice outside on the front step.
“Bloody mess this is.”
Mum.
Thank God.
Emmy shot up out of the chair and had to steady herself when her injuries protested.
“Mum!” she called out.
Emmy stumbled into the front room as Mum stepped inside the flat.
She staggered toward her mother and wrapped her arms around Mum’s neck. Tears that she’d kept at bay since the sirens first sounded yesterday fell freely.
“Good Lord, Emmy!” Mum’s hand stroked Emmy’s hair. She couldn’t remember the last time Mum had done that.
“Oh, Mum. I was so worried.”
“What in the world? What happened to you? Why are you here?”
Mum did not sound angry. She sounded surprised. Completely surprised. Emmy pulled back from her to study her mother’s face.
“Didn’t—didn’t you see my note? Didn’t Julia tell you?”
“What note? Didn’t Julia tell me what? What are you talking about? Why are you here?”
“Mum. Didn’t you come home yesterday? You got off at four o’clock.”
“How did you... Why aren’t you in Gloucestershire? Why are you here?” Mum’s voice rose in pitch as she slowly realized that something was terribly wrong.
“Tell me you came home when you got off work. Tell me you have Julia,” Emmy murmured, new tears already falling.
Mum went white. “Julia is with you. In Gloucestershire.”
