‘You did what?’ Jess cried.
‘We kissed,’ May replied, face flaming.
‘Attagirl, Lidford!’ Jess slapped her on the back. ‘I knew you two would get together sooner or later. I’m glad you’ve finally come to your senses. Now come on – I want to hear all the details.’
‘It was lovely.’ May sat on her bed and gazed down at her bag, which she had just started to unpack when Jess had arrived and demanded an explanation for May’s dreamy expression. May was unable to hold back a huge smile as she remembered her first kiss and all the ones that had followed. She had been unable to stop smiling all day, except when she’d had to say goodbye to Peter.
‘Lovely? Is that all?’ Jess’s voice jolted her back to the present. ‘I want to hear everything: what it was like, what you said to each other, most especially I want to know why you look like you’ve got a light switched on inside you.’
‘Do I?’ May looked into the mirror but she didn’t think she looked any different, apart from the hair slightly messed from the cycle ride back from the station. She tried to come up with words to describe their kisses apart from ‘lovely’, but how could any words be adequate to describe the delightful jumble of sensations and emotions that accompanied each kiss?
Jess shook her head and gave a crooked smile. ‘You’re back there again, aren’t you? I can see it’s going to take a while to get anything sensible from you. At least tell me if you found Peggy’s mother.’
‘We did, and she’s fine. Well, shocked and homeless, but she’s got a place to stay now and someone to take care of her.’ May glanced at her watch. ‘In fact, I need to get to the village, to catch Peggy when she comes out of school.’ She’d reluctantly insisted that she and Peter leave Kenilworth early so she could find Peggy as soon as she finished school; she didn’t rate her chances of getting past Mrs Evans if she wasn’t in time to meet Peggy in the village. ‘Hopefully I’ll see Mrs Bowes, too. I promised I’d let her know.’
‘I’ll come with you. I said I’d meet some of the lads at the pub later.’ Jess picked up her greatcoat and pulled it on. ‘You can try to think of a better description than “lovely” on the way.’
They managed to catch Mrs Bowes making her way to the infants’ school, who was delighted to hear that Mrs Hardy was safe. May handed her the letter Mrs Hardy had dashed off for Davey in shaky handwriting. They then headed for the junior school. The children were just starting to emerge when they arrived. There was less of the usual chatter and horseplay usually associated with schoolchildren being released from a day’s work; of course, it wasn’t just Peggy who was affected by the tragedy of Coventry, but all her fellow evacuees. More than one face had swollen, reddened eyes, and here and there were huddles of children with their arms around a classmate with a tear-streaked face. May had to remind herself of Peter’s words again, that she couldn’t help everyone.
May soon saw Peggy in the doorway. At least there was one child who would receive good news today. Peggy stopped dead when she saw May, seeming to gather her courage before approaching, eyes wide and haunted. A look that should never be seen on a child.
‘I found her. She’s fine,’ May called as soon as Peggy was in earshot.
Instantly Peggy’s face lit up and she pelted across the playground to May’s side. ‘Where is she? Was she hurt?’ Peggy asked the moment she could draw breath.
‘She’s unhurt.’ May pulled Mrs Hardy’s other letter from her pocket and handed it over. She and Jess fell into step with her to walk her home, with the unspoken understanding that they would stop short of the haberdashery. ‘She wrote you this. Your house was bombed but she’s staying with Mrs Hughes now, so she’s got food and shelter.’
Peggy tore open the envelope, her eyes alight, and studied the letter. May turned away when the girl scrubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, thinking that she wouldn’t want to be seen crying. However, she turned back when Peggy gave a heaving sob. Peggy had stopped walking and her face had crumpled, tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘It’s alright,’ May said. ‘I know you must have lost a lot when your house was bombed, but your mother’s safe and that’s the main thing.’
Peggy drew a shuddering breath. ‘You don’t understand.’ Each word was punctuated with a sob.
May crouched beside Peggy and put an arm around her shoulders. She exchanged a glance with Jess who looked as confused as she felt. ‘Then what’s the matter?’
‘I thought she would come for me when you found her. Bring me back home.’
May’s heart sank. She shot a pleading look at Jess, who simply shrugged. ‘She can’t do that, Peggy. Your home’s gone.’
‘I don’t care. I could stay with Mrs Hughes, too.’
‘It’s not safe. Your mother told me that however bad things got, however much she misses you, it’s a comfort to know you’re safely away from the bombings.’
‘But I hate it here.’ Peggy jerked free from May’s arm and stood ramrod straight, her fists clenched at her sides, the letter crumpled in one hand. ‘I’d rather be in Coventry with all the bombs than spend one more second with Mrs Evans. I hate her. I…’ Her face crumpled. ‘I want my Mum.’ Her words ended on a wail.
May’s heart clenched. From another child it might have been a melodramatic statement, but from Peggy it came out as the simple truth.
‘What about Davey?’ Jess asked. ‘Surely you wouldn’t want him to be in danger, and you know going home would mean leaving him.’
That seemed to hit the mark. Peggy’s shoulders slumped, then she sagged into May’s arms and fresh tears poured down her cheeks, soaking the front of May’s coat. May didn’t try to stop the crying. This was the pent-up flood of weeks of ill-treatment. Tears pricked May’s own eyelids, but she resolutely blinked them back. She held the little body as Peggy convulsed with sobs, wishing she could howl out her own helplessness. She had almost as little power as Peggy to change her lot. How on earth was she supposed to help?
May mentally braced herself. Clearly the first thing to do was get Peggy to tell her exactly what she was going through with Mrs Evans.
When the latest storm of tears had subsided and Peggy’s breathing had steadied, May said gently, ‘Peggy, what’s it like with Mrs Evans? I might be able to help if you tell me how she’s treating you.’
She had feared Peggy would clam up again, but the girl drew a deep, shuddering breath and said, ‘I hate Mrs Evans. She’s horrible.’
Well, that much was apparent, but they would need details if they were going to help. ‘In what way?’
Stuttering a little from repressed sobs, Peggy said, ‘She makes me do all the cleaning.’
May’s heart sank. This was too close to her own experience. She could just imagine Peggy working late into the night, scrubbing the floors, dusting and polishing until the house was gleaming to Mrs Evans’ exacting standards. She glanced at Peggy’s hands, still clutching the collar of May’s coat. She’d not thought to look before – now she saw the cuticles were reddened, speckled here and there with blood. The skin over the knuckles was dry and cracked. May’s hands had looked just like that. The trouble was, she knew exactly how Mrs Evans would explain it away, because her father had done the same when she’d plucked up the courage to tell a teacher her father made her do all the work. She could imagine Mrs Evans’ self-righteous tones as clearly as though she were standing there. ‘A bit of hard work never killed anybody. Every girl needs to be trained to do the cleaning and cooking so she can keep a good house for her husband when she’s married. I’m doing her a favour.’
She gave Peggy a hug. ‘That’s awful.’ She could at least give Peggy something her teacher had never offered: sympathy.
Peggy nodded. ‘Mrs Evans doesn’t do anything herself. Says her maid left to do war work, and if I want food and shelter, I need to work to pay my way.’
‘Anything else?’ May asked. Although she didn’t want to hear Peggy was suffering from other cruelties, it would be next to impossible to get Peggy moved merely on the grounds that she was made to do chores.
‘She… she hits me sometimes. The other evening I was so tired and had homework to do. When I asked if I could leave cleaning the hob until the next day, she fetched me a clip around the ear. My ears were ringing for hours after that.’
‘I’m so sorry, Peggy.’ She gave the girl’s arm another squeeze.
Jess’s face was grim. ‘I’ll give that bi— that Mrs Evans a clip round the ear next time I see ’er.’
Peggy gave a shaky laugh. ‘I’d like to see you try.’ She wiped her face with the hanky, looking a little better for having confided in someone.
But May could see Jess was thinking the same as her. If challenged, Mrs Evans would trot out some trite saying like, ‘Spare the rod and ruin the child.’ Or, in May’s opinion, far worse: ‘My parents beat me as a child and it never did me any harm.’ Whenever May heard that argument, she always wanted to shout: ‘It did. It turned you into a vicious bully.’
‘Is there anything else you can tell us?’ May asked. As it stood, she would do her best to help, but there was nothing Mrs Evans couldn’t pass off as normal behaviour.
Peggy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I just wish I wasn’t so hungry all the time.’
‘Hungry?’ While rationing was making things like meat, butter and sweets scarcer, in a country village like Amberton, fruit and vegetables were plentiful. No one should be hungry, even if they were missing certain foods.
‘She always has enough to feed her friends, but she says children don’t need so much food because they’re smaller.’
This was dynamite. If May understood correctly, Mrs Evans was using Peggy’s rations to feed herself. And how could she, on just her and Peggy’s rations, be able to entertain her friends? This needed investigating, and it was something concrete she could report. ‘I tell you what,’ May said, ‘why don’t you come to the tea rooms with us now and have a slice of cake? Then we can talk over what to do next.’
Peggy’s face lit up for an instant, but then the light was extinguished. ‘I can’t. Mrs Evans will be cross if I’m late.’
‘Of course. I don’t want to get you into trouble,’ May said. ‘Me and Jess—’ she glanced at Jess, sure she would want to help, but not wanting to drop her into something without permission. Jess gave a tiny nod. ‘Me and Jess will talk over what to do, and we’ll do our best to help, I promise.’
Peggy smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Jess asked, ‘Why didn’t you say anything earlier?’
Peggy hesitated, then said, ‘She told me that if I wasn’t good, she would tell the school she couldn’t look after me any more. Then I would be sent away, maybe hundreds of miles from here. I couldn’t have that. I have to be near Davey.’
It was a wrench to let Peggy return to Mrs Evans after hearing her story. May, blood boiling, wished they could march straight there and take Peggy away.
‘That Mrs Evans has got some nerve,’ Jess said, gazing after the little figure. ‘To think she treats us WAAFs as though we’re contaminating the village by our very presence, when she’s treating a child like a slave.’
May couldn’t speak for a moment. She too watched Peggy who, with dragging feet, was turning into the High Street. ‘How can we let her go, Jess?’ She made a move to go after her, but Jess caught her arm.
‘Use your ’ead.’ Jess gave a choking laugh. ‘Blimey, I never thought I would be the one to say that out of the three of us.’ May immediately understood Jess was including Evie in the number. May felt the same way. Even though Evie was elsewhere, she was still an invisible presence in their tight group. ‘We can’t take ’er with us.’
‘But we can’t let Mrs Evans get away with it.’
‘Did I say that?’ Jess squeezed her arm then released her. ‘Don’t worry – I’ve no intention of letting Peggy stay with that cow a moment longer than she has to, but we’ve got to do this the right way. We’re not part of the village, remember. Whatever we do, we have to make sure Peggy will still be looked after, even if we get transferred.’
She was right, of course. It was easy to forget they could be moved to another location at short notice. Evie had already moved on, and both May and Jess were being encouraged to apply for officer’s training like Evie, which would mean leaving Amberton. May suspected Milan was a factor in making Jess drag her feet over her decision. As for herself, she still wasn’t convinced she was officer material. Even if she didn’t go for it, she could be transferred to the transport section of another station at a moment’s notice.
‘I wish the village was run like the WAAF,’ May said. ‘We’d just have to report Mrs Evans to our immediate superior and leave it to the chain of command.’ Some people found the rigid hierarchy stifling; to May it was a comfort. She’d had no one to turn to when she’d been under her father’s thumb. The structure provided by the WAAF meant security to May.
‘Come on, let’s go to the pub,’ Jess said. ‘It’s getting cold out here and I’ve got to be back on duty in another couple of hours. Let’s talk it over in the warm.’
The snug of the Horse and Groom was emptier than usual. None of the pilots were there, it being rather early in the day. The only other occupants were Arnold Walker and three men May didn’t recognise, sitting at a table around the corner of the L-shaped room. Mr Walker shot them a glance with narrowed eyes while they stood at the bar, ordering lemonades, but he returned to their muttered conversation without making any comment, much to May’s relief. She’d dreaded a jibe about Milan or the other Czech pilots.
The girls took their drinks to a table at the opposite end of the snug to Mr Walker. For a while, they sat in silence. May gazed at the row of gleaming horse brasses suspended from the beam above their table while she sipped her drink, but she wasn’t really seeing them. Her head was full of Peggy’s tale. Peggy had poured out her woes, trusting May to make it better. She couldn’t let Peggy down. Not when she understood all too clearly how it felt to live in a home where no one cared for her. Where she was treated as a being with no feelings or wishes for herself, existing only to serve the other members of the household. The WAAF had freed May, and she couldn’t return to the station until she’d done something to ensure Peggy would soon be free of Mrs Evans.
Of course, even though the village didn’t have the same rigid structure as the WAAF, there were still systems in place. ‘I’m going to speak to Peggy’s headmistress,’ May said. She started when she heard how loud her voice sounded. With the snug being so empty, there wasn’t the usual hum of chatter to screen their conversation from other listeners. She looked at Mr Walker, but he was deep in earnest conversation with his friends, hunched over his beer glass. He gave no sign of hearing. Even so, she lowered her voice before continuing. ‘She’s supposed to be responsible for Peggy’s well-being too.’
Jess nodded. ‘Good idea. I can’t believe she hasn’t noticed Peggy needs help, to be honest. You don’t have to know Mrs Evans well to know she’s the last person on earth I’d trust to care for a child.’
May caught a movement from the corner of her eye; she thought she’d seen Arnold Walker turn his head at the mention of Mrs Evans. However, when she looked, he was talking to his friends. She must have imagined it.
‘When are you going?’ Jess asked. ‘I’ll come with you.’
May drained her glass. ‘Right now.’ She hoped Jess couldn’t hear the quaver in her voice. The prospect of speaking to the headmistress terrified her, but for Peggy’s sake she would do it. No one had spoken up for her when she had needed help; she wasn’t going to let Peggy suffer alone. ‘I won’t sleep tonight unless I’ve done everything in my power to free Peggy from Mrs Evans.’ Again the slight movement in the corner of her eye. It must be a trick of the firelight.
At that moment the door creaked open and Milan strode in. His face was set in grim lines, though it softened when he saw Jess. Jess, who had just risen, glanced between Milan and May.
‘Stay with Milan,’ May said.
‘Are you sure?’ There was no mistaking the longing in Jess’s expression when she looked at Milan.
May wasn’t sure at all. The prospect of speaking to the headmistress filled her with trepidation, even taking Jess for moral support. Going alone was a thousand times worse. However, Jess hadn’t seen much of Milan lately, and when she had, it had been in the company of May or the pantomime children. She knew from the two days in Peter’s company how precious time alone could be. ‘Of course. You’ve got to go back on duty soon and I’ve got the rest of the day free.’
She comforted herself with the thought that this was good practice for becoming an officer. Officers wouldn’t ask their friends to come with them when they had to face a difficult task.
The teachers’ entrance to the school was still open when May got there and it was with a mixture of hope and apprehension that she saw a gleam of light escape under the door with the sign proclaiming, ‘Miss L. Foster, Headmistress.’ Reminding herself that this was for Peggy’s benefit, she tapped on the door and pushed it open when Miss Foster’s voice called, ‘Come in.’
Remembering Jess’s lessons, May stood tall, straightened her shoulders, held up her chin and strode in.
‘Miss Lidford,’ Miss Foster said, looking at May over the top of her reading glasses, ‘Do come in and sit down. Is this to do with the pantomime? I hope none of the children have been causing bother.’
‘Not at all, they’ve been very good,’ May said, perching on the edge of the chair indicated before deciding that a confident person would settle into their chair more comfortably. She sat further back and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap while making a conscious effort not to fidget.
‘Then how can I help?’ Miss Foster took off her glasses, letting them dangle on the chain around her neck. She gave May a stiff smile, but her gaze was already drifting towards the paper on her desk.
Look her in the eye and speak firmly and without hesitation. May could almost sense Jess standing beside her, reminding her how to comport herself. It gave her the courage to maintain eye contact and say, ‘It’s about Peggy Hardy.’
‘Poor girl. She’s been so worried about her mother. Well, all the evacuees are worried about family and friends in Coventry, of course. Such a tragedy.’
‘As a matter of fact, I was able to find out that her mother is alive and well, so I gave her the good news after school.’ Miss Foster drew a breath but May, amazed at her own daring, hurried on before she could speak. ‘She told me something that I found very concerning.’ May congratulated herself for thinking of the ‘I found very concerning’ bit. It sounded like something a responsible adult would say. ‘As you’re her headmistress, I thought you would be the best person to tell.’
Miss Foster picked up a pen and nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, she’s told me that she’s very unhappy with Mrs Evans, the lady she’s staying with. She said she’s being made to do all the work, and—’
Mrs Foster pointed at May with her pen. ‘Let me stop you there. Girls do love to over-dramatise their lives. I’m sure that’s all that’s happening here. The village children are rather overawed by the city children, and the city children are enjoying being the centre of attention.’
‘But Peggy wasn’t telling the other children, she was telling me, because she thought I could help.’
‘Hasn’t it occurred to you that her tale is rather too close to the story of Cinderella? She’s taken it into her head to identify with a fairy tale character. I’m sure she is missing home, and the shock of the bombings must have been awful, of course. This is just her way of handling it. A way of getting attention.’
The old May would have meekly agreed and apologised for wasting Miss Foster’s time. But May knew she needed to dig deep for Peggy’s sake and find the May who had defied her father and secretly joined the WAAF. ‘She also said Mrs Evans wasn’t feeding her properly. I suspect she’s using Peggy’s rations for herself.’
Miss Foster raised her eyebrows. ‘That’s a very serious allegation.’
‘I wouldn’t make it if I didn’t think it was true.’ May held Miss Foster’s gaze steadily, much as she wanted to look away. She tried to put herself in Miss Foster’s shoes, tell herself the headmistress had scores of children to look after, some of whom were prone to flights of fancy. Surely if a child said they were being maltreated it needed to be taken seriously? May felt like she was the one under suspicion here, not Mrs Evans.
May had to remind herself she wasn’t a naughty child, she was an adult with serious concerns for a child in Miss Foster’s school. She was the responsible one for reporting it. It was Miss Foster who was being irresponsible if she refused to take May seriously. And May was a WAAF, for goodness sake! She had faced far worse things than a stern headmistress. It was time to call on all the skills Jess had taught her and really feel that she was in control. How would her flight officer act in this situation?
Miss Foster put her glasses back on and looked down at the paper she’d been reading when May arrived. ‘Well, I’ll look into it, of course.’
It was meant as a dismissal, but her CO wouldn’t have taken it as such, so May couldn’t, either. She stood up and towered over the desk. For the first time in her life she was grateful for her height, because it made Miss Foster crane her neck. ‘Miss Foster.’ She took care with her pronunciation. Jess had worked with her on her accent when she had first arrived at Amberton and had wanted to work in Operations. She had since decided she enjoyed her work in Motor Transport – persuaded mainly by the fact that her job meant driving Peter around the countryside – but now she rounded her vowels just like Jess had taught her. ‘A child in your school is being mistreated by her host. You should make it your first priority to ensure she’s given the care every child deserves, the care her mother was assured she would be given.’
Miss Foster gave her a stiff smile. ‘I hope you’re not suggesting I don’t take my pupils’ welfare seriously. I give you my word I will investigate the matter and take the appropriate action.’
This time there was no ignoring the dismissal. May couldn’t help reflecting that if she’d been an officer, Miss Foster would have taken her seriously. As it was, she felt she had been consigned to the same ranks of ‘girls prone to flights of fancy’ as Miss Foster’s pupils.
All she could do was leave, promising herself to follow up in a few days.