May burned at the injustice. If Miss Foster had done her job, May wouldn’t have had to interfere. She held her tongue, though. There was less than a fortnight until the course started. Surely nothing could go wrong before then. ‘Please, ma’am. Do you know if anyone else from Amberton is doing the training?’
Flight Officer Payne peered at a sheet of paper on her desk. ‘ACW Jessica Halloway,’ she said.
It was all May could do to contain her excitement and not let out a whoop of joy in the cramped office. Then Payne made her joy complete by dismissing her early for the day, as she had been forced to miss nearly all of her breaks. As it was, she broke into a run as soon as she had been dismissed and was outside. Her annoyance at Miss Foster and Flight Officer Payne disappeared. She and Jess were going to be on the same course! Where was Jess?
The NAAFI. May changed course abruptly, causing a young corporal who had been cycling past to swerve and nearly fall off his bike. May called out an apology but didn’t pause until she was in the doorway of the NAAFI. She searched the room until she saw Jess’s bright blonde head. She was sitting by the window with three airmen. May recognised them as ground crew to Brimstone squadron.
By the time May had managed to weave her way through the busy canteen the men were rising, collecting their trays and eating irons.
‘See you later, lads,’ Jess said, waving the men away with a cheery smile. Then she saw May. ‘I was going to come looking for you. I’ve just got off duty, and I’m free until Boxing Day. Ellerby gave me the time off to organise the pantomime. Isn’t that wonderful? I thought you might like company to take Peggy’s clothes back to Mrs Evans.’
In her delight over the course May had nearly forgotten Peggy’s clothes. ‘I’d love the company. And just wait until you hear what Flight Officer Payne just told me.’
‘That we’re going on the course together? I know. Isn’t it the most wonderful thing?’
And talking nineteen to the dozen, they dashed out to get their bikes.
May had hoped to find Peggy helping in the shop, but only Mrs Evans stood behind the haberdashery counter. Thankfully they had struck a quiet time, so they would be able to talk to Mrs Evans about Peggy alone.
May put the bundle of Peggy’s clothes on the counter. ‘Peggy forgot to collect these yesterday,’ she said.
Mrs Evans gave her a purse-lipped look. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly. She evidently expected May and Jess to leave. Her frown lines deepened when May didn’t move away. ‘Well? Was there something else?’
May and Jess had tried to work out what to say on the ride into the village but neither had come up with any good ideas. ‘We’ll just have to play it by ear,’ Jess had said finally. ‘You’d better do the talking, though. She seems to regard me as just one step up from a lady of the night.’
‘I don’t think she has a higher opinion of me after seeing me in my Prince Charming get-up.’
Now, as she stood at the counter, eyes on a level with a stand displaying a rainbow of cotton reels, May wished it was Jess doing the talking. ‘I… ah… we’re very sorry you weren’t informed about the pantomime,’ she said. Best to take a conciliatory tone. ‘But we were hoping you would allow Peggy to take part in the pantomime. She’s worked so hard for weeks. It would be a shame for her to miss it.’
‘She lied to me. I don’t reward liars.’
‘I know. And if we had known she hadn’t given you the letter, we would have come to tell you ourselves.’
‘So she lied to you, too. Why would you want her back?’
‘Because she’s lonely and misses her home. She’s very young. I’m sure she’ll apologise if you give her the chance. Didn’t you ever make a mistake you wished you could undo?’
May didn’t know what had made her say that, but she was sure that just for a moment, Mrs Evans’ glance flicked to a paperback novel sitting on a low shelf on her side of the counter. May would never have noticed it if Mrs Evans’ glance hadn’t given it away. May bit back a smile. Was the straight-laced Mrs Evans ashamed at being caught with something as frivolous as a novel? Pressing her point home, she said, ‘You don’t have to attend if you don’t want to. It’s on Christmas Day in the afternoon. Perhaps you would appreciate a few quiet hours.’ Another thought struck her. ‘We will be providing food for the children afterwards.’
Possibly it was the thought of a day without needing to provide Peggy with a meal that struck a chord, because Mrs Evans seemed to unbend. ‘Let me think about it. Maybe if she apologises—’
The shop bell jangled and Mrs Evans glanced at the door. It seemed to May that her expression shifted to one of alarm, quickly hidden. Curiously, May glanced over her shoulder to see Arnold Walker stroll in.
Nerves tingling, she shot Jess a significant glance. Jess gave an almost imperceptible nod in return. Was this the chance they had hoped for? Were they about to discover the reason behind Mr Walker’s frequent visits to the haberdashery?
Mr Walker tipped his hat at Mrs Evans. ‘Morning. My wife sent me on an errand, but I can come back later if you’re busy.’
‘Don’t mind us,’ May said. ‘We’ve finished here.’ She gave Mrs Evans a polite smile. ‘Send Peggy to the village hall for two in the afternoon.’
She stepped back from the counter, wondering how they could remain in the shop while Mrs Evans spoke to Mr Walker.
Jess rescued her. ‘Oh, look at these gorgeous hankies,’ she exclaimed as they passed a shelf by the door stacked with pretty lace-trimmed handkerchiefs. ‘I could get one for my Auntie Vera for Christmas. She’d love one embroidered with her initials.’ Ignoring the fact that it would almost certainly be too late to embroider and post it before Christmas, Jess picked one up and held it for May to inspect. May admired the soft cotton and the delicate lace while straining her ears to catch what Arnold Walker was saying. His voice had dropped to a low murmur, which immediately aroused May’s suspicions. However, she could just make out his words.
‘She wants some beeswax and three balls of grey wool.’
May felt a lurch disappointment. She exchanged glances with Jess and read the same disappointment in her face.
‘Think I’ll get these, anyway,’ Jess murmured. She collected three of the handkerchiefs and went to stand behind Mr Arnold.
Mrs Evans had wrapped a lump of beeswax in brown paper and placed the three balls of dark grey wool in a bag for Mr Walker. She was just placing the money in the till when she gave an affected start. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot.’ She picked up the paperback. ‘Do thank your wife for lending me this book. You will tell her how much I enjoyed it?’
Mr Walker reached out to collect his purchases and the book. If May hadn’t seen Mrs Evans’ guilty glance earlier, she would have thought nothing of this exchange, but now she watched with narrowed eyes as Mr Walker took the book. Was that a sheet of paper between the pages? Probably just a bookmark Mrs Evans had forgotten to remove. She had to be sure, though. The thought that this could be her last chance to help Peggy gave her courage. Pretending to trip, she nudged Mr Walker’s arm as he reached for the items. He fumbled them and everything fell to the floor. Balls of wool rolled across the polished floorboards, and the book fluttered to the floor, dislodging the loose paper inside. With an exclamation of annoyance, Mr Walker knelt down and lunged for the book. Not the wool, which was rolling away, May noted. She quickly crouched down to seize a ball of wool and managed to catch a glimpse of the loose paper. A second later, Mr Walker had snatched up the book, tucking it under his arm.
‘Watch what you’re doing,’ he snarled.
‘I’m very sorry, Mr Walker.’ May gathered up the errant balls of wool and the paper bag still containing the little parcel of beeswax. She handed it to him with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m so clumsy. I’m always falling over my feet.’
He glanced down at her feet with a sneer, making May horribly self-conscious of her size nine feet in their unflattering regulation lace-up shoes.
Mr Walker stormed out, leaving Jess to pay for the handkerchiefs. Then the girls also left, with May reminding Mrs Evans that Peggy would be fed if she arrived at the village hall for two in the afternoon on Christmas Day.
After a glance around to be sure no one could overhear, May murmured to Jess, ‘Did you see what was inside the book?’
Jess shook her head. ‘I was too busy trying not to get kicked when he flung himself after it. Did you manage to get a look?’
May gave a triumphant grin. ‘I did. It was ration coupons.’
Jess gave a low whistle. ‘You think they were Peggy’s?’
‘I’d stake my life on it. No wonder the poor girl looks so underfed. Arnold Walker must have some kind of black market racket going on, and Mrs Evans is handing him Peggy’s coupons in return for…’ But May couldn’t think what would make the respectable Mrs Evans risk prosecution.
‘I bet he’s getting hold of nylons and soap, which he’s doling out in return for the coupons,’ Jess said. ‘Do you think other foster parents are involved?’
‘Maybe. I—’ By this time the girls had rounded the corner of the haberdashery, where the wrought iron gate leading to the small garden behind the shop stood. May could just make out a child’s figure, huddled with her arms wrapped around her knees, sitting on the doorstep leading to the living quarters. ‘Wait a moment.’
She darted across to the gate and peered through. ‘Peggy,’ she said, careful to keep her voice down so it wouldn’t carry to Mrs Evans.
Peggy raised her head from her knees to reveal a tear-streaked face. ‘M-May?’ she sniffled.
‘Yes. How are you?’
Peggy’s face crumpled. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell her. Now she says I can’t even watch the panto. She won’t even let me see Davey.’ She broke into fresh sobs. ‘The only time she lets me out is when she wants me to deliver stupid letters to her friends.’
May wished she could reach through and pat Peggy’s shoulder, but the gaps between the ironwork weren’t wide enough. ‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I think we’ve managed to persuade Mrs Evans to let you come.’
Hope blazed in Peggy’s eyes. ‘You’re not having me on?’
May shook her head. ‘You’re going to have to apologise to her. Do you think you can do that?’
Peggy’s face screwed up as though May had just asked her to lick the moss off the walls. At first May was worried the headstrong girl would refuse, but after a moment’s reflection, Peggy nodded.
‘Good girl.’
May’s spirits were lighter than they had been for a long time as the girls cycled back to High Chalk House, pedalling slowly so they could avoid the frozen puddles in the twilight. They had persuaded Mrs Evans to let Peggy take part in the pantomime; they finally had an idea of what Mrs Evans was doing with the ration coupons that clearly weren’t being used to feed Peggy and, best of all, she and Jess would be going to Cranwell together. Even so, May was conscious of a heavy weight dragging her down. Her lack of backbone had made her push Peter away, and now, even though she was beginning to see that Jess and Evie were right, and she could speak out when necessary, she feared Peter would never want her back. Not when she had broken his heart in the most brutal way possible.
He had said he would respect her decision. That meant it was up to her to make the first move. Did she dare try?
‘Jess,’ she said when they had put their bikes away and were walking towards the back door of the Waafery, ‘If I sent Peter a letter, do you think he’d read it?’
‘Absolutely.’ Jess, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, brightened. ‘Take my word for it, May, he’ll have been watching the post every day for word from you.’
May swallowed. ‘But what if he says he doesn’t want to see me?’ Dreams of a reunion had sustained her ever since she’d returned from Birmingham. If Peter refused her, she’d have lost both him and hope.
Jess paused, her hand on the door handle. ‘It’s a risk, but don’t you want to end the uncertainty?’
May thought for a moment then nodded. ‘You’re right. I need to know, one way or the other.’
Jess squeezed her arm. ‘Whatever happens, you’ll always have me and Evie.’ Then she smiled. ‘But I don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about. He’s crazy about you.’
May could only pray she was right.
When they had climbed up to the schoolroom, Jess marched straight into their bedroom and returned with pen and paper. ‘Go on. Write. Ask if he’ll take you back.’
May shook her head. ‘I’m going to invite him to the pantomime. I finished with him by letter. I need to apologise to him to his face and… well, I’ll see what happens if he comes.’
‘He’ll come.’
May wished she shared Jess’s confidence. She sat at the rickety table to write her letter. With Jess pacing around the room, pausing to fidget with the blackout blinds, plumping the cushions and straightening the curtains, it was hard to concentrate. In the end she kept it short, simply writing a brief but heartfelt apology for being a coward and asking if he would come to the pantomime so they could talk afterwards.
‘There,’ she said once she’d put the letter in an envelope and addressed it. ‘I’ll put it in the post first thing tomorrow.’
Jess shook her head, glancing at her watch. ‘The girls on night watch in Ops should be leaving soon. I’ll ask one of them to hand it in for you.’ Without waiting for a reply, Jess took the letter and dashed out.
Jess was gone for longer than expected, so May used the time to think over what they had discovered. If they were right, and Mrs Evans had been giving Arnold Walker Peggy’s rations, they had to find a way of proving it. But how could they do that? Her run-in with Miss Foster had already shown that the authorities were unlikely to believe May’s word over Mrs Evans’ if she just reported that she had glimpsed ration coupons inside Mrs Evans’ book. She paced the room, covering the same trail followed by Jess only minutes earlier. As much as she tried to concentrate on the mystery of the coupons, her thoughts would flit to the letter. Would Peter get it in time? Would he come? What would she say to him if he did? And every now and again she would get a stab of happiness when she remembered she and Jess were going to Cranwell together. When she compared her life now with the life she had been leading a year ago, it was almost unbelievable. She had come so far.
The thunder of feet on the stairs broke through her musings, then Jess burst into the room, eyes shining. ‘Come down to the Rose Room,’ she said. ‘You’ll never guess who’s here.’
‘Who?’ May gathered up her writing materials, but Jess snatched them and tossed them back onto the desk.
‘Leave them.’ Jess was bouncing on her toes with excitement. ‘Come on!’
Jess refused to explain, so May followed her downstairs and into the cosy sitting room on the ground floor. An inkling of the truth was forming.
Jess opened the door with a flourish. ‘Look who’s here. It’s Evie!’
May gave a yelp of delight and rushed in. A moment later she was engulfed in an enthusiastic hug.
‘May! It’s so good to see you,’ Evie cried.
Then all three girls were hugging and talking at once.
May jumped when a masculine voice with a soft Scottish burr said, ‘Don’t mind me.’
She released Evie and stepped back, abashed. She had always been rather in awe of Alex Kincaith. But he was smiling, so she relaxed and sat on the sofa next to Evie.
Evie, she noticed, still wore her original uniform, not that of an officer. She eyed it anxiously. ‘How was your course?’
‘I passed. I’m an officer!’ Then she obviously must have noticed May eyeing her uniform. ‘I’m on leave until the new year, then I report to RAF Watnall. I’ve had to order my new uniform from a tailor, so it’s not ready yet.’
‘She passed with flying colours,’ Alex said with a proud smile.
‘Congratulations! I knew you would do it.’ Then May glanced at Jess. ‘Are we supposed to salute?’
‘Don’t be an idiot. Anyway, I heard from Jess you’re both going to Cranwell for training. I’d be very surprised if they don’t make you both officers soon. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we ended up at the same station?’
There was an air of celebration about the evening. Evie told them she was staying at the Horse and Groom over Christmas and promised to come to the pantomime. She also agreed to distribute some of the programmes around the village as flyers.
After the initial excitement had died down and they had caught up with Evie’s news, Evie asked, ‘What about that evacuee girl you were worried about, May? Have you been able to help her?’
May filled her in on everything that had happened. ‘Jess and I think she’s slipping Peggy’s ration coupons to Arnold Walker.’
Evie wrinkled her brow. ‘What would she gain by giving them away?’
‘We thought Mr Walker could be supplying her with black market goods.’
‘How could he use the coupons, though?’ Evie asked.
May’s eyes fell on the handful of programmes which they had given to Evie, and it was as though something clicked in her mind. ‘He has a printing press,’ she said slowly, her voice trembling with suppressed excitement. ‘What if he’s not using the coupons to buy things? What if he’s using them as templates?’
Jess’s eyes widened. ‘You think he’s forging coupons?’
The more she thought about it, the more sense it made. ‘He could be collecting coupons from Mrs Evans to use as examples, and possibly to sell on as well.’ May’s heart beat a rapid tattoo. She was certain she was right.
‘How do we prove it, though?’ Jess put in. ‘And how does it help Peggy unless we can prove Mrs Evans is involved?’ Evie’s eyes glinted. ‘In one of your letters, May, you mentioned setting a trap. I think now would be a good time.’
‘Yes, but how?’ May’s elation faded, faced with the difficulty of catching Mrs Evans out.
‘You said Mrs Evans passed the coupons to Mr Walker inside a book,’ Evie said, looking thoughtful. ‘Do you think they use that method every time? If so, perhaps you can intercept it in front of witnesses.’
‘Of course.’ It dawned on May that she had seen Mrs Evans hand Arnold Walker books more than once. ‘I can’t believe I’d forgotten, but I saw Mrs Evans give Mr Walker a book in church, too.’ She chewed her lip. ‘The problem is, how do we discover in advance when they’re going to make an exchange?’
‘I suppose Mrs Evans must send him a letter,’ Jess supplied. ‘Telling Mr Walker when to collect the book.’
‘Letters!’ May thumped the arm of her chair in triumph. ‘Peggy said she was only allowed out to deliver messages. I bet Mrs Evans uses her to deliver letters to Mr Walker. If we can get Peggy to let us see one first, we’ll know when she’s going to hand over the next batch of coupons.’
‘You’re a genius, May,’ said Jess. ‘I’d bet anything you’re right.’
May could hardly believe they’d finally hit upon a solution. ‘Then all we have to do is tell Peggy.’
Maybe Jess was sickening for something. May watched her friend as they cycled into the village the next morning, their breath forming puffs of sparkling vapour in the freezing air. The more animated May had become, thrilled that they at last had a plan that might free Peggy from Mrs Evans, the more subdued Jess had appeared. Come to think of it, she had been quieter than usual for the past week. Remembering Jess’s forced cheer during the carol singing and her reluctance to talk about Milan, May was convinced she knew the reason. With all that had happened over the past week, May had forgotten to ask Jess about Milan. Now she felt guilty for neglecting her friend when Jess had done so much for her.
It was impossible to talk while they were cycling. Not privately, anyway. But once they had propped their bikes up behind the village hall and were strolling towards the haberdashery, May asked tentatively, ‘Is everything all right, Jess? You haven’t been yourself recently.’
Jess gave a weak smile. ‘I’m fine. Just a little sad to be leaving all this behind. We won’t have another billet like High Chalk House.’
A few weeks ago, May would have accepted the explanation, even if she hadn’t believed it. But May had extricated herself from her father and had even dared to reach out to Peter. It was clear Jess needed help, and May refused to let her down. ‘That’s not all, Jess. What are you hiding?’ She tugged Jess to a standstill and forced her to return May’s gaze. ‘It’s Milan, isn’t it? If he’s hurt you, I’ll—’
Jess pulled May into a hug. ‘You’re a brick, May, do you know that?’
Really worried now, May pulled away from the hug and took both of Jess’s hands. ‘Please tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been so much help to me. You literally saved me, you and Evie. You know I’ll do anything for you in return.’
Jess released a breath, a soul-weary sigh. ‘Milan didn’t hurt me. He’s a good, kind man who doesn’t deserve me. It’s me who hurt him. When I told him I might be leaving, he wanted to keep in contact with me, but I said it was best if we went our separate ways.’
‘Why?’
Jess suddenly seemed to notice a loose thread hanging from one of her sleeves. She picked at it while replying. ‘It’s better this way. I’m not right for him. When he finds out I – well—’ Jess put on a smile that was too bright and didn’t reach her eyes ‘—you know me, I like to play the field. Milan is so serious, talks about love and wanting to settle down. I don’t want that. It’s not fair to keep him dangling when we want completely different things.’
Jess snapped the thread, brushed it from her sleeve then took a step towards the haberdashery. ‘Anyway, what’s done is done. I’ll miss him, but it’s not the end of the world. Plenty more pilots where we’re going, I’m sure.’
May knew there would be no forcing the truth from her. And she couldn’t deny Milan had always seemed the more keen of the pair. Maybe it would have been unfair of Jess if she’d left letting Milan think they still had a chance to be together. However she couldn’t forget that look of utter desolation she had seen at the rehearsal.
They approached the gate where they had seen Peggy the day before, taking care to keep out of sight from anyone in the haberdashery. They had no wish to be seen by Mrs Evans.
May peered through the gate and into the yard. There was Peggy, not huddled up on the step this time, but kneeling next to it, scrubbing brush in hand and bucket of soapy water beside her. Her knuckles were cracked and reddened from the cold. She scrubbed the step with listless strokes.
‘Peggy!’ May hissed.
The scrubbing brush stilled. Peggy’s pale face turned. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ Peggy leaned towards the open door as though listening. ‘You can’t stay. Mrs Evans will be out to check on my work in a minute.’
‘This won’t take long.’
After another glance through the door, Peggy dropped the brush and approached the gate, wiping her wet hands on her greying apron. ‘I’ve already apologised for not telling her about the pantomime,’ she said. ‘Mrs Evans told me I can go.’
May, conscious that Mrs Evans could appear any moment, lowered her voice. ‘That’s wonderful. But we think we can prove Mrs Evans is involved in fraud. If so, we’ll be able to get you away from here. Does Mr Walker often come into the shop to collect a book?’
Her brow wrinkled, Peggy said, ‘Yes. She and her friends belong to some kind of reading circle. Mrs Walker can’t get out much so they lend her books.’
May’s heart sped up. ‘Does Mrs Evans send a message to Mr Walker when she has a book to collect?’
Peggy nodded. ‘She sends me.’ She tapped the pocket of her apron. ‘I’ve got a message here. I have to take it round when I’ve finished the step.’
May could hardly believe her ears. But then she heard something that sent chills down her spine. Footsteps approached from within the house, and Mrs Evans voice called, ‘What are you doing, girl? Haven’t you finished that step yet?’
Peggy went white; before she could dash back to her task, May hissed, ‘Quick. Give us the letter. We’ll take it.’
Peggy whipped the envelope from her pocket and thrust it through the gaps in the wrought iron gate and into May’s hands. Then she flung herself back upon the scrubbing brush.
May tucked the letter into her pocket then grabbed Jess’s arm and pulled her away from the gate. As they walked off, doing their best to look like casual passers-by, May heard Mrs Evans’ voice. ‘Hurry up, girl. I want you to take that message to the Walkers.’
Once they were clear of the shop, May drew the letter from her pocket. It was just a folded piece of paper with Mr Walker’s name on the outside. ‘Christmas Eve,’ she said to Jess after a quick glance around to make sure no one was within earshot. ‘She says she can lend Mrs Walker her copy of Devil’s Cub by Georgette Heyer if he collects it from the shop at midday on Christmas Eve.’
They made a careful note of the time and the title of the book, then paid a passing lad sixpence to deliver the note to the Walkers’ cottage. The last thing they needed was to be seen delivering the note themselves.
That done, they set out to find Evie. They didn’t have to go as far as the Horse and Groom; as they walked past the village green, they saw her by the pond, watching the ducks waddling across the ice. May, bursting with excitement at their discovery, poured out their news.
‘That’s marvellous,’ Evie said. ‘What are you going to do?’
All sorts of wild scenarios flitted through May’s mind. They could set a watch on the shop, waiting for Mrs Evans to hand over the book to Mr Walker, catching them red-handed. And then what? It would still be their word against Mrs Evans’. No, there was only one sensible course of action, much as she wished they could be the ones to catch her and see the look on her face when she realised the game was up. ‘We have to take this to the police.’