‘So,’ Pips smiled across her kitchen table at Mitch as she set a cup of coffee and a plate of biscuits in front of him, ‘we’ll be seeing a lot more of you, then.’
Mitch stirred his coffee thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea.’ Now he glanced up at her and deliberately met her gaze. ‘I don’t think old George would be happy about that.’
Pips groaned. ‘Oh, not that old chestnut. For goodness’ sake, Mitch. We’re all friends. We’re still part of the Brooklands crowd, even if there’ll be no more racing for the duration. Is that why you’re going to be at your apartment in London more now?’
‘Apart from keeping my Lysander in good nick – just in case it can be useful – there’s nothing much for me to do down at Weybridge. And, at the moment, Jeff’s still there anyway.’
‘What’s he going to do? As regards the war effort, I mean.’
‘Oho, Jeff has all sorts of contacts. He’ll find something very useful to do, I can promise you that. But knowing him’ – Mitch tapped the side of his nose – ‘it’ll be something very hush-hush.’
‘I can well imagine you getting involved in something like that as well.’
Mitch laughed. ‘Well, I’ll be sure not to tell you if I do.’
They smiled at each other.
‘So, in the meantime, until something more exciting turns up, you’re going to be an air-raid warden in this area.’
‘That’s right.’
‘You know, that’s a very good cover for some clandestine work.’
‘Pips, you’re far too clever for your own good.’ He set down his cup, picked up a biscuit and bit into it before saying, ‘So, what are you going to do? Knowing you, I don’t expect you’re going to sit here twiddling your thumbs.’
‘I’ll do something, but at the moment, I don’t quite know what.’ She sighed. ‘Maybe I should go back to Lincolnshire and help my mother. She is organizing everybody to be useful.’
Mitch chuckled and murmured, ‘I wouldn’t expect anything less, but I don’t think that’s quite you, is it?’
‘Once the bombing starts – and it’s bound to – I will probably offer my services to drive an ambulance here in London.’
Mitch frowned. ‘I don’t think George will like that.’
‘George will have nothing to do with it,’ Pips retorted.
Knowing her as he did, Mitch didn’t doubt it for a second.
They were all seated around the long dining table in the Great Hall. Henrietta beamed at her daughter-in-law, her granddaughter and the seven women, which now included Betty Cooper too, who’d been invited to attend the meeting. ‘Thank you for coming here this afternoon. It’s very good of you.’
‘Nah then, Mrs Maitland,’ Bess said. ‘Is this about having these kiddies from Leeds to live with us, because me an’ my Charlie’ll gladly take one or two. Ones that are related. You know, brothers and sisters – so that they’re not split up.’
‘Partly, Mrs Cooper, yes, but there’s more to it than that.’
Swiftly, she explained her idea that they should all become founder members of the WVS branch she intended to open in the village.
‘I want us to do it properly. The Women’s Voluntary Services is going to be very important in this war. I have already obtained clearance from the headquarters of the organization and we shall be a recognized branch and have proper uniforms.’
Daisy took a surreptitious glance at Bess Cooper and was not disappointed to see a beam spreading across the woman’s round face.
‘Now,’ Henrietta was saying, ‘would you all like to join?’
There was a chorus of ‘yes’ around the table. Only Norah did not speak at once.
‘I’d love to join you all,’ she said hesitantly, ‘but I’m not sure . . .’
‘You leave that husband of yours to me, Norah,’ Bess said. ‘I’ll have words with him.’
Norah’s cheeks turned pink at the thought that her private business should be discussed in front of the other women. Then she sighed. There was no need for her to feel embarrassed; they had all known for years just how Len treated her. Perhaps this was something she really could do that would give her a feeling of self-worth. She glanced round the table at the women she considered to be her friends – even Mrs Maitland. She lifted her head and smiled. She’d do it. With their help, she’d defy Len and join them.
A little later, Bess walked back with Norah to the Dawsons’ cottage. ‘Put the kettle on, Norah duck. I’ll just nip along the lane and have a word with Len.’
‘Oh Bess, do be careful what you say.’
‘I aren’t going to have a row with him.’ She laughed raucously. ‘At least, not unless I have to.’
Moments later, she was standing outside Len’s workshop. ‘You there, Len?’
There was a pause before he appeared. ‘’Course I am. It’s a working day, in’t it? What d’you want, woman?’
‘We’ve just been up to the hall . . .’ Swiftly, she went on to explain what Mrs Maitland had asked them to do.’
For a moment Len was thoughtful. ‘She’ll not be wanting you all to go away from the village, will she? I don’t want Norah gallivanting off.’
‘I wouldn’t think so, Len. It’s the village she wants us to concentrate on.’
Again, there was a pause whilst Bess held her breath. ‘Well,’ Len said slowly at last, ‘as long as my meals are ready on time and she does all her housework, then, aye, she can join you.’ Before Bess could say any more, he pointed at her. ‘But one thing I won’t have is strangers in my home. We’re not taking any of these brats coming from God knows where.’
For once, Bess held her tongue. It was enough for the moment that she’d got his agreement to Norah joining them in the WVS. If the Dawsons were obliged to take evacuees, she’d leave that to Mrs Maitland to deal with. Her short walk back to Norah was triumphant. ‘He’s agreed, Norah. You can join us.’
‘No! Really?’
‘Yes, but he’s adamant you’re not having evacuees.’
Norah’s face fell for a moment, but then she shrugged. ‘Ah well, I expected as much. In fact, I didn’t expect him to agree to the WVS bit. Thanks, Bess.’
‘It’s going to be hard work, Norah, but we’ll have fun as well. And we’ll all be doing our bit.’
It didn’t take long for Henrietta to organize everything and by the second week in October, when the newspapers were full of the news that British troops had been sent to France, the newly formed Doddington Branch of the WVS had its uniforms and were meeting regularly to learn what their duties were to be. In the same week, the first evacuees arrived in the village. They were gathered in the church where Henrietta and her WVS ladies greeted them with food and drink and told them to sit down in the pews to await the arrival of the villagers who were to take them into their homes.
‘Poor little mites,’ Florence said, her gentle brown eyes filling with tears. ‘They all look so white-faced and exhausted. I want to gather them all up and take them home.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Peggy said, standing beside her a little self-consciously in her new uniform. ‘Which one will you choose?’
‘Oh, I won’t mind any of them,’ Florence whispered. ‘Probably the scruffiest, most peaky-faced one that looks in need of a good bath and a lot of love. The one that no one else wants.’
‘Sam says I’ve to pick a good, strong boy that can help him in the garden.’
Their glances ran over the children who were sitting in rows and munching sandwiches.
‘There’s a boy at the back, Peggy, who looks a bit older than the rest. What about him?’
‘I’ll go and have a word. No good being dressed in this uniform if we can’t pull rank now and again.’
The villagers were arriving now to make their choices and Florence shuddered. It was like a cattle market and she felt so sorry for all the children waiting to be picked.
Peggy approached the boy at the back of the room and sat down beside him. ‘Hello. Where have you come from?’
The boy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand – a gesture that Peggy was always reprimanding Harry for. It endeared him to her at once.
‘Leeds, Mrs. My mam reckoned I’d best come away, seein’ as we’re likely to be one of ’itler’s targets. I wanted ’er to come, an’ all, but she won’t leave me dad. He’s in engineering. He can’t leave.’ The boy spoke in a broad Leeds accent that reminded Peggy of Daisy’s friend, Gill.
‘How old are you?’
‘Twelve, Mrs, but I’m big for me age. I ’spect there’ll be some as think I’m older than that, but I ain’t.’
‘What’s your name?’
‘Bernard Smiff, Mrs.’
Peggy stifled a gasp of surprise. It was the same name as one of the Dawson boys who’d never come back from the war. Not her sister’s fiancé, Roy, but his brother.
‘Well, Bernard Smith,’ she said in a voice that was not quite steady now, ‘would you like to come and stay with me and my husband? We’ve got two sons. Luke is in the RAF and there’s Harry too. He’s still at home at the moment, but he will be joining the RAF in January. What do you think?’
The boy regarded her solemnly. ‘I fink I’d like that very much, Mrs. What’s your name?’
‘Mrs Nuttall. Now, you sit at the back here until I can take you home. I have to help with the others for now. But if anyone asks you, you’re taken.’
The boy grinned and wiped his mouth again. ‘Ta, Mrs Nuttall. Ta very much.’
The number of evacuees was thinning out rapidly. Under Henrietta’s guidance, the villagers picked out the ones that would suit them the best or fit in with their family. At last, apart from Bernard, who was waiting for Peggy, there were only two little girls, standing at the side, clinging to each other.
‘I think they’re twins,’ Florence whispered to Peggy. ‘They look ever so much alike.’
‘I think that’s why no one’s taken them. They didn’t want two.’
‘I think it’s more likely because one of them has obviously been sick down her coat on the journey and the other has wet her knickers.’ Her smile widened. ‘Just what I was looking for. They’re perfect for Conrad and me.’
Peggy glanced at her, but Florence wasn’t joking. She smiled as she went towards the two little girls who couldn’t be more than about four years old. ‘Hello, you two. I was hoping you would be left – just for me. Come along, now. Let’s go home.’ She took the girls’ hands, one on either side of her, and left the church, calling back over her shoulder, ‘Tell Mrs Maitland for me, Peggy, will you, that I’ve taken the last two?’
Peggy walked to where Henrietta was sitting at the front of the church, ticking off all the names on her lists.
‘That’s all of them, Mrs Maitland. Mrs Everton has taken the last two little girls.’
Henrietta glanced up. ‘But there’s a boy still sitting at the back.’
‘He’s coming home with me.’
‘Oh, right. What’s his name?’
‘Bernard Smith.’
‘Ah yes, here he is.’ She placed a tick against his name. ‘And that’s everyone. What a good day’s work.’