Bad News on the Doorstep by Harcourt Tendhall
13 July 2022 { General Fiction }
There was a knock on the door.
‘Who can that be, this time o’ night?’ said Mum.
‘We’ll never know lest we answer it,’ Dad replied, lifting himself out of his armchair.
He’d sat in that same chair, every evening, for all my life. At least, I can’t remember him sitting anywhere else, or in a different chair. It’s next to the fire, with the radio right next to him and woe betide anyone who dares sit in it when he’s home. When I were still at school, I’d sit in it when my brother, Sid, and I did our homework before our parents got home. I work now, so rarely get the chance. I suppose Sid sits in it, since he’s still at school, but that don’t mean owt, since there’s no one else there to lord it over.
Anyway, Dad came back in, ashen faced. ‘That were Jack. There’s been an explosion at the factory. The night shift’s only three hours in. I’m off up there, see if I can help.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ I said.
‘Thanks, Son. You’ll need your working boots and grab your overcoat. We might be a while out there. It’ll get cold later.’
‘I want to come too,’ said Sid.
‘Sorry, Sidney; you’re too young and it might be dangerous. Best you stay here and keep your mum company.’
Sid pouted, but knew better than to argue. It were already near his bedtime.
Mum had disappeared into the kitchen, hastily making two sandwiches and a flask of tea. ‘Dad’s right,’ she shouted, ‘it’ll be cold out there and you’ll need these. Don’t go empty-handed. If you don’t want ‘em, like as not someone will.’
She handed Dad and me our sandwich tins and the flask.
‘Thanks, Love. C’mon, Son, let’s see what we can do.’
The factory was on the other side of the hill from our house, about five minutes’ walk away. We skirted the hill and marched up the brew to Factory Lane. As we did, we could see a huge plume of smoke. We rounded the corner and were faced wi’ what looked like a war zone.
‘Ruddy Nora! Where’s factory gone?’ asked Dad.
There weren’t much left of it that we could see. Piles of rubble, some wi’ pockets of fire or billowing smoke, twisted metal girders and roofing sheets. It were hard to see through the choking dust and smoke in the air, stinging your eyes. The Fire Brigade were playing hoses over the fires and there were blue flashing lights everywhere. As we got closer, we could see folk everywhere. Some just stood watching, mainly women and kids, but men folk were digging by hand, forming chain gangs, passing stone and brick down the piles of rubble, searching for survivors. There were police, ambulance drivers, firemen, workers, anyone really.
Dad pointed to someone who seemed to be directing folk, so we headed over to him and asked, ‘How can we help?’
‘Thanks. Join them over there,’ he said, pointing to his left. ‘They need more help.’
As we walked over, Dad said, ‘Hell, this used to be the Maintenance Shop. Albert and Fred were working the shift tonight.’ As we got close, he shouted, ‘Where do you want us, lads?’
‘Charlie? Is that you?’
‘Aye, Albert, and my lad. Glad you’re alreet, how’s Fred?’
‘No idea. I was outside, on the other side of the office block, when it went up. I ran back to find this. Six of us were on the maintenance shift tonight, along wi’ a hundred men. He might be under here wi’ the others. Give us a hand up here.’
We both climbed up and began heaving at the stone blocks that had once been the walls of the Maintenance Shop. I were thinking there’d be little chance of anyone surviving under here, but we had to try and find them.
After what seemed like a lifetime, Dad suddenly shouted, ‘Stop. I can hear something.’
Everyone went quiet, then I heard it as well. A metallic tap, tap.
Albert shouted, ‘Is that Fred? Tap twice for yes, once for no.’
Tap, tap.
‘That’s grand, Fred. Hold on, we’re coming for you. Keep tapping, so we can follow the sound.’
We set to with renewed vigour. One lad shouted for more help and another gang joined us to help take the rubble away. Every few minutes, we stopped and listened for the tapping, shouting encouragement to Fred. After half an hour, we found his hand, holding a tin mug, tapping on a length of pipe.
Albert was delighted, as we all were, and he said, ‘Might’ve known you’d be having a brew when it went up.’
‘Not me,’ murmured a muffled voice. ‘This is your mug, Albert. It hit me on the head when the explosion happened. C’mon, get me out of here but have a care; I think me right leg’s broken.’
‘Soon have you out, lad. Hang on,’ said Albert, then shouted, ‘Let’s have some light over here. We’ve found someone.’
Two firemen quickly joined us and set up an arc light, then helped shift more rubble. We carefully removed the stone blocks from around Fred and gave him a drink of water. Two ambulance men arrived to check him out before we moved him. They put his leg in a splint and moved him onto a stretcher, which we all passed, one to another, as Fred groaned wi’ the pain, down the pile of rubble.
Fred said he were the only one in the Maintenance Shop when it all went up. The others were out in the factory, doing repairs. We took a quick break. Dad and me ate our sandwiches and drank some tea. We’d taken off our overcoats when we were digging, but soon put ‘em back on again when we stopped. It were freezing.
We joined another gang, deeper in the factory. This time, we were the last two in the chain, just chucking rubble passed down to us into a new pile. They found another two lads alive, as well as four who didn’t make it.
As dawn broke, we got our first actual view of the surrounding devastation. The factory were spread over two acres, but most of it were gone. Some girders still stood, like trunks of massive trees left after a forest fire, all branches gone and good as dead. Some sections of walls still stood, but not many. There were only twisted beams and roofing sheets where the main production area once stood. The fires were all out, but smoke and dust still filled the air. Our clothes were filthy grey wi’ the dust from the rubble. Almost all the hundred men from the night shift were now accounted for. Most of the survivors had serious burns, and some, like Fred, had broken bones. Miraculously, twenty men were unharmed. We found out that the main steam boiler blew up and that fractured a gas pipe, which caused a flash explosion across the whole factory. That’s the trouble wi’ furniture manufacturing; there’s a constant haze of wood dust in the air. Dad often said the place were an accident waiting to happen.
We were exhausted and left the site at six o’clock. There’d be no day shift that morning. When we got home, Mum were already up. She’d put the immersion on and made our breakfast while we had baths. We had nowt to talk about; we were too exhausted and shocked. After that, we went straight to bed.
Next time someone knocks on our door late at night, I think we’ll just ignore it.
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