'48

Like I say, Cissie had understood.

But now it was over, burned from me. I think I even smiled at the thought.

She was waiting for me with the others at the corner of Westminster Bridge, just under the statue of Boadicea. I could see them up ahead as I turned the corner from Whitehall, smaller figures among them, the kids and adults I'd set free in the old castle. We'd rounded up fewer than a dozen women and children when we'd returned to the castle grounds, only two men with them, one middle-aged and in poor condition, the other hardly more than a kid himself. Oh yeah, and we'd caught sight of two Blackshirts scurrying away, trying to hide from us; but that didn't worry me - how long did they have left anyway?

One of the kids saw me approaching and began jumping up and down, tugging at the skirt of the woman closest to him and pointing in my direction. They all started waving, the two boy twins and some others even running forward to meet me. Cissie stayed where she was though. She was unmistakable in her new blue frock, one hand raised in greeting, the other on her hip. Even from the truck I could see she was smiling.

I passed the battered Houses of Parliament, Big Ben tall and looming, and carefully drew the vehicle to a halt, wary of the kids rushing forward in their excitement

'You ready?' I called from the open window, returning Cissie's smile.

'It's done?' she said in reply.

'Can't you see?' My thumb indicated the huge cloud of smoke darkening the horizon behind me.

She nodded. 'I hope it burns the whole city. We don't need London any more.'

The women, helped by the two men, were already lifting the children into the back of the truck.

'Sit up front?' I asked Cissie.

She strolled over and opened the passenger door. The sun was behind her, shadowing her face as she leaned in, but I could still see the whiteness of her smile, the fine little scar running across her nose. She climbed up, flopping purposely into the seat beside me.

'You needed to ask?' she said.

'Guess not,' I replied. 'Ready to roll?'

She banged on the screen behind us. 'Everybody set?' she called.

A chorus of yeses came back, followed by a few muffled giggles.

'We're ready,' Cissie declared. She looked ahead through the dusty windshield. 'I always fancied the Surrey hills.'

'I always liked the sea.'

'Does it matter?'

'Not one bit. There're plenty out there just like us.'

I pushed the stiff lever into gear and pulled the truck away from the kerbside - funny how they'd all been waiting safely out of the road - and we rolled onto the bridge. As ever, the river beneath us was silver with specks of dazzling gold.

For no particular reason - old habits again? - I glanced into my wing mirror and my foot almost slipped off the accelerator. Without saying anything to Cissie, I stuck my head out the window, looking back. I wasn't sure what I was searching for at first, it seemed so, well, so out of place. Then I grinned. It was, it really was.

The zebra - yeah, four legs and a whole lot of black and white stripes - was ambling across the broad road some distance behind us, heading, I figured, for the overgrown green in Parliament Square. I ducked back inside the cab again, just in time to swerve round a Ford parked in the very middle of the bridge.

'What are you grinning at, Hoke?' Cissie was still smiling herself.

'Nothing,' I told her. 'Nothing at all.'

And maybe that zebra was nothing. It set me thinking though. And hoping too. Although I had no idea what I was hoping for.

- James Herbert

AUTHOR'S NOTE

'48 required a great deal of research into World War II and conditions in London around that time.

Where possible, I've stuck to the facts, but in instances such as the escape along the Tube line between Holborn and the Aldwych, which was in truth closed down during the war years, I've allowed the story to stretch the actuality. There also appears to be some confusion between the experts as to whether trams were allowed to run through the tunnel beneath Kingsway during those dangerous years, so again I've opted for artistic licence (or not, whichever the case may be). Most other details should be accurate, but please forgive any mistakes I'm bound to have made and certain elaborations used for the sake of dramatization.

JAMES HERBERT Sussex, 1996