'Forget it. Let's just concentrate on getting outta here.' I took her hand and surprisingly -I thought she was still mad at me - she allowed me to guide her.
Once through the door we found ourselves inside another corridor, this one wider though, with openings along each side. Water covered its concrete floor and at the far end a carbide lamp burned, its white glare harsher than the warden's paraffin lamp but more effective. On the wall outside one of the open doorways was a yellowing poster, an upper corner drooping over, and as I passed by I saw there were two pictures of Adolf Hitler on it, front and profile, WANTED writ large at the top, smaller headline type explaining why.
FOR MURDER ... it said. FOR KIDNAPPING . . . FOR THEFT AND ARSON. It should've added FOR WORLD GENOCIDE. Our breeze caused the opposite corner to curl over so that the paper folded and the mad Fuhrer was out of sight. The floor shook beneath our feet and Cissie's grip tightened in mine.
I took a peek through a doorway and saw a plain square room inside, pipes running round the walls close to the ceiling. One of the smaller pipes was leaking in a couple of places, thin jets of water arcing onto the bare floor. The only furniture was an iron table with four straight-backed chairs around it; a black telephone sat on the tabletop. It was a relief to see there were no human remains in there.
Other rooms were similar but with more furniture; two or three tables, green filing cabinets and cupboards. The pipes ran through every room, and there were more leaks, some pretty bad. There was another stairway at the end of the corridor, broader than the last and turning back on itself as it rose to the next levels. We used its iron handrail to drag ourselves upwards, the warden urging us on and getting mighty agitated with the ladies for holding us back. We'd just reached the next level when an explosion beyond a set of doors to our left shook the walls.
The warden clung to the stair rail until the world had settled down a little. 'It's the gas cylinders!' he shouted at me accusingly, as if it were my fault, I'd arranged the whole thing. 'They're kept 'ere for emergency power and now your bloody fire's got to them!'
My bloody fire? Yeah, sure. But you had to wonder what kind of genius built an underground bunker vulnerable to explosions beneath the city streets. We were both distracted by smoke curling through the gap beneath the heavy double doors.
'Which way do we go?' I asked as Cissie sank down next to me. Muriel stood with her back resting against the wall, the German supporting her, his impatience to get moving plain in his quick-shifting eyes.
'Upwards!' the warden shouted back at me. 'There's sleepin quarters and plannin rooms on the next floor, and we can get out through there.'
'Doesn't this stairway lead to the street?'
'It does, yeah, but the buildin over the exit collapsed and blocked it a long while ago. Thank Gawd there're others.'
'No point in hanging 'round then, right?' I kept my voice calm - shouting would have only hurt my throat even more anyway.
'You're not wrong there, son.' He'd calmed down a little himself, but he still looked scared. Letting go of the rail he bustled round to the next flight of stairs.
'Hey,' I called after him, the stab to my throat making me wince. 'What's your name?' I finished more quietly.
'Potter. Albert Potter, ARP warden for the Kingsway and Strand area.' He seemed proud of the title and I almost expected a smart salute. He started climbing again, but I just caught his added remark.
'Can't say I'm pleased t'meet you at last'
My limp was getting worse as I followed him, but I knew I'd only bruised the ankle - anything more severe and I wouldn't have been walking at all by this time. But tiredness was slowing us all down, I guess only our last reserves of adrenaline keeping us going. I'd learned a lot about that during the war, because flying a Hurricane at more than 300 miles an hour with a couple of superior Me 109s on your tail, it's the old energy-juice that takes over, overrides the fatigue that comes with too many sorties and not enough sleep, keeps your brain razor-sharp, until maybe a Spitfire can get to you and cover your back. Even if you got shot up, it was the adrenaline pumping that got you through the shock, helped you function until you'd baled out. Yeah, I'd learned a lot about what adrenaline could do for you in times of crisis, and I also knew that eventually it dried up, it could only take you so far...
The German surprised me by drawing level and taking me by the elbow. 'Do you need help?' he asked.
His face was black with dirt - hell, all our faces were black. 'Cept the warden's - his was just getting redder by the second.
I paused just long enough to pull my arm away. Take care of the girl,' I told him, my voice low and full of warning. I climbed on, leaving him there, but he was close to me again, this time with an arm around Muriel's waist, her own arm over his shoulder. I let them go on past and then it was Cissie who was by my side.
'You're slowing down, Yank.'
'It's been a busy morning,' I managed.
Her teeth flashed through the dirt, and I appreciated the smile.
'If you need a shoulder to lean on...'
'You're not sore at me any more?'
'Anyone can make a mistake. Besides, if those Blackshirts are as nasty as you say-'
'You had a taste of 'em.'
Trying to roast us alive wasn't very civilized. As for wanting our blood, well, we only have your word for that I mean, for all we know you could be a criminal of some kind and they could be the only law and order left'
'You got a point When you see 'em next, march right up and introduce yourself. Tell 'em about your blood type. They'll be pleased to get acquainted, wait and see.'
She gave me a long look, then grinned again. 'I'll take my chances with you - for the moment Not that I have any other choice.'
The banter might have continued - we were both dog-weary and this was a way of keeping each other going -but the next explosion that ripped through the underground bunker was the fiercest yet.
Although the blast was somewhere deep within the complex, the walls around us shuddered violently and debris began to fall through the stairwell from above. Brickwork caught the rail and shattered, throwing out pieces like shrapnel. Cissie yelped as she was struck on the forehead and she fell back against the wall. I grabbed her when she staggered down a step, and pinned her there while rubble and dust rained down.
'It's the ceiling at the top!' I heard Potter shout back at us. 'The whole lot's gonna break loose in a minute!'
With Stern and Muriel just ahead of us, we clambered up to the next landing, spitting dust and blinking grit from our eyes.
'This way - quick!' The warden was holding one side of a double door open and we scooted through, the deluge behind us increasing, becoming a cascade of bricks, masonry, timber and powder. Once inside the door we could barely see, even though there was another carbide lamp on the floor - the warden must have placed these lamps in strategic places along our escape route - because it was like running into one of those famous London fogs the guidebooks told you about, 'peasoupers' I think they called them in those days. The fog was smoke, and it swirled everywhere, thicker in some parts than others.
Potter hurried past us, his tin helmet knocked askew, and we followed after him like lost souls, afraid of losing sight of his broad back. Luckily, the smoke soon thinned out and we were able to see our way more clearly, although every so often we had to wipe our blurred eyes with sleeves or knuckles. We found ourselves in a huge open room filled with desks and large tables with street maps set on them, the maps marking out various divisions of the city and outlying areas. There were more maps around the walls, coloured pins indicating what could only have been other Civil Defence centres and contact points; metal lightshades, disr turbed by the eruptions, swung low over the desks and map tables. As well as a phalanx of telephones, still in neat formation along the desktops, I glimpsed a whole battery of radio transmitters against a side wall. Only one thing was missing, but now wasn't the time to ask the warden.