Jack of Ravens

3

‘My Old Man (Said Follow the Van)’ was ringing around the auditorium as Church and Jerzy followed the trail of Spring-heeled Jack backstage. A man practising the trombone pointed them to the stage door, which hung open. Outside in the icy fog two women clutching each other in terror directed Church and Jerzy towards the East End.

They hadn’t gone far when ear-piercing sirens rose up.

‘It’s another air raid,’ Jerzy said. ‘That’s why there’s a blackout — if the city is in darkness it is much more difficult for the bombers to find a target.’

‘I know what a blackout is, Jerzy.’

‘Ah. I forgot. This is all history to you.’

‘Come on, come on, lively up!’ An ARP warden brought his bicycle to a wobbly halt. ‘You don’t want to be out on the street with the Nazis dropping eggs on your bonces. Get down the Tube, pronto!’

Jerzy grabbed Church and started to haul him in the direction of the nearest Underground station. ‘He is right, Church. I have seen what it is like. The fires blaze like the furnaces of the Court of the Final Word. Even if you are nowhere near the bomb blast it can tear you limb from limb. I have seen arms and legs lying in the gutter … men, women and children. We can search later.’

‘It’ll be too late then,’ Church said, but he knew Jerzy was right. They set off for the nearest Tube station, but after a few feet Church had a very strange feeling about the ARP Warden: something about him was familiar. He turned back, but the street was empty.