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A heavy silence hung about the loft like fog after Lucille's father had left, leaving the German paper behind. The two boys refused to say a word to each other, choosing to stay solemnly by themselves. This, however, was quickly broken by the clattering of wood lifting from the entrance.
Tommy smiles as he watched Lucille poke her head through the small hole, her wide eyes blinking and adjusting to the darkness that surrounded all but the sparkling light that shone up from the square. Her hands disappeared from above for a second and returned with another cloth bag, which was chucked up next to the boys, the contents somehow staying intact.
"We haven't got long." She said, as she struggled to pull herself up to the next floor level.
Tommy had noticed the lack of rusty steps that would usually extend into the loft, and shuffled forward, grabbing under her shoulder and her hand to help her up. He peered back down, looking at the low cabinet that had been shifted to give her a boost.
"I brought cigarettes." She said, watching as the boys let out sounds that could be close to moans.
Dawson scrambled to the bag and pulled out the box, flicking it open and breathing in a deep sniff. Lucille laughed as they lit them, inhaling the smoke in a matter of seconds.
They were obviously cheap, and nothing like the Shelby's favourites from back home. But Tommy was thankful- he had never craved one more than he did in those few days.
"I think you needed them." Lucille laughed out as they said nothing, too busy.
But Tommy still watched as she sat up and walked around the small area, her light footsteps making no sound against the bare wood. Her fingertips trailed across the wooden surfaces, lifting up the coating of dust and painting her soft skin grey. She stopped as she came to the corner, which was uninhabited, except for the paper, that lay foreboding in the middle. Picking it up carefully, when her eyes came to rest in the German title, Lucille frowned.
"So you've read this?" She asked, and the soldiers nodded.
"No one in the village knows how to speak or read German." She said. "But we spent an hour trying to convince the mayor to read it to us."
"So how did you read it?" And asked.
Dawson raised his hand quickly and slapped it down lazily. He didn't wish to expand. "I know a bit of German."
Lucille nodded in answer before asking, "The British army will help, won't they?"
"Can't imagine Britain ever lending itself to offensive operations." Tommy said and Dawson shook his head in agreement.
Tommy could see her watching his coat. It had freezing in the loft and both soldiers had needed all of the layers that the could get. He shuffled slightly, as her hands reached out to his top layer, but she reached forward still, her fingers fumbling in his top pocket. She pulled her hand out, bringing with it, a small silver object, one that Tommy wished he had hidden.
"You have a medal?" She asked, her eyes widening as she looked from the medal to him, in questioning. He nodded slowly.
"And you don't wear it?" She asked again, he shook his head.
He could tell she was still curios by the wide ness of her gaze and light grin in her lips. "There was a point where I wouldn't have had it at all."
She was confused. "I almost got rid of it."
"Why would you ever want to do that?" Dawson exclaimed, looking almost disgusted at his statement.
Tommy laughed at the memory. "I was thirsty."
"There was a french man, almost traded it for a bottle of his wine. We got called out before I could." He explained.
He shrugged at their shocked behaviour. "It's better now though, I can throw it into the cut and the whole of bloody Birmingham can have the fucking thing."
"But you fought for that medal!" Dawson said, passionately.
"I didn't fight for a fucking metal circle." He replied. "Why should I be rewarded for an honour when there were men loosing their lives left, right and centre?"
They stayed quiet after his burst of anger. His feeling had been made clear, and they obviously opposed Dawson's. But the two soldiers chose to remain respectful, and wouldn't hold on to any of it.
"What'd you get it for?" Lucille asked, taking the medal gently and placing it back into his pocket, buttoning it softly.
"You wouldn't deprive me of a story, when I love them so much?" She joked, and Tommy smiled, nodding.
"I'd love to, but-" Lucille didn't allow him to say anything more. Instead she nodded in understanding, shaking her head after, wordlessly telling him she didn't need to hear.
"I got it after the battle of Mons." He offered the information lightly, but it was all that he was willing to give.
That battle had been the worst he had experienced above ground. And those under, he would never wish to think of during the day. Not when they haunted him in the night.
"I remember that one. It wasn't far from here. They used the town as a station for injured soldiers." Lucille said, sitting back and crossing her legs. They remained silent remembering the battle.
"I must be going. The soldier will be here soon and I need to go out early in the morning." She finally said, as she got up abruptly, gathering the empty bag and heading back toward the hole in the floor.
"Anywhere nice?" Dawson asked lightly, and she smiled.
"For you it is." She teased, her feet dangling before disappearing into the hole.
"We never did get to that book, did we?" She said and Tommy nodded.
Without anything more said, she slid down carefully onto the cabinet, her blonde hair being the last to disappear. They could hear the scraping of wood as it was pushed back against the wood eventually.
"Bye!" She shouted back, before Dawson placed the panel back over the entrance, hiding the soldiers away, once again.
