Ruth passed what was obviously a formal dining room, a mess hall and then as expected, she found the kitchen. This was immaculate – as was always the case anywhere in the army and particularly where officers were being trained.
It didn’t take her long to fill a kettle and put it on, then after further searching she found the wherewithal to make herself several slices of toast to go with her tea. There was both jam and butter in the well-stocked pantry but she settled for beef dripping and salt – this was a particular favourite of hers, as Aunt Jemima had loved it.
As she was slathering the delicious dark brown jelly that you found under the white dripping on the last slice of toast, the kettle whistled. After carefully cutting the toast into triangles, she poured herself a mug of tea and sat down at the table, glad that she was indoors and not outside in the torrential rain.
Her tea slopped onto the table as the door swung open. The captain strode in and her stomach somersaulted. She was probably going to be put on a charge or possibly sent packing before she’d even started.
‘I could smell the toast from the office. Please say you’re going to give a starving officer a slice.’
She could hardly stand to attention or salute as she was sitting at the table, so she smiled. ‘There’s plenty here, sir, and you’re welcome to share it with me. I’ll get you a cup of tea as well.’
He shook his head. ‘No, Bombardier Cox, stay put, I’ve gate-crashed your midnight feast and will get my own tea. Don’t look so surprised – I might only have one arm but I’m quite capable of filling a mug with tea.’ He grinned and walked around the long table and she heard him doing just that behind her.
‘Are you intentionally anonymous, sir, as I’d like to know with whom I’m sharing my meal.’
‘Fair point. I’m Adam McAllister. I apologise for being so bloody rude to you when you arrived earlier. I’d fallen asleep on duty, which is a hanging offence in the army, as you know.’
‘Apology accepted, sir, and nobody will hear about your heinous crime from me. I’m assuming that I won’t be put on a charge for stealing my supper.’
‘I’m still considering my options. Doesn’t do to show favouritism to an NCO.’
Ruth was enjoying this conversation rather too much and wondered why that was. He wasn’t particularly handsome and probably ten years older than her. Then she realised she was talking to him in the same way she talked to Sam.
‘Is there really no accommodation for me until the day after tomorrow?’
‘I expect there’s a bed somewhere, but we can’t wander about upstairs peering in bedrooms tonight. Why were you sent here two days early?’
‘I think the senior commander took pity on me. I would have had to find a bed and breakfast somewhere as I’m now detached from my RA unit. How many cohorts are there being trained at any one time?’
‘There are four groups of ten doing the twelve-week course, but we now have a two-day preliminary course which weeds out the unsuitable candidates and means that the majority of those here gain their pips.’
His matter-of-fact explanation rang warning bells. ‘Am I to assume, Captain McAllister, that I’m going straight onto the full course?’
‘Of course you are. I checked your record, Bombardier, and I doubt there’s any other officer cadet as highly skilled as you. I’m wondering why you wanted to be an officer – you do realise you’ll no longer be doing any of the things you trained for, don’t you?’
Ruth frowned. ‘I’m not sure that I understand, sir.’
‘ATS officers are responsible for the discipline and welfare of those under their command. Once you’re promoted, you won’t be involved in range finding and so on – it will just be discipline, welfare and administrative work.’
Her heart sank. She’d sort of known this but had pushed the worries aside and now she was faced with a dilemma. She pushed her chair back and refilled the teapot from the gently hissing kettle to give her time to think about what he’d said.
Could she trust him if she asked him what he thought she should do? She poured them both a second mug of tea.
‘Do I have permission to speak freely, sir?’
He nodded. ‘Go ahead, Bombardier Cox, nothing you say will go on your record if that’s what you’re worried about.’
‘I’m not sure I want to be an officer if I can’t lead from the front. I know that’s what happens on your side of the army. I believe that to be an officer you should be able to do all the things that you ask those under your command to do. How can a girl who hasn’t got the same specialised training be an effective officer on a mixed artillery site?’
‘Her senior NCOs take care of that.’ He drank his tea silently for a moment but she could see he was pondering whether to say something that was probably unwise.
‘I honestly think you’d be better off becoming a warrant officer, we both know that it’s sergeants and warrant officers who really run the army.’
‘Thank you for being so frank, sir. I trained to be a kinetheodolite operator, then retrained to be a spotter, predictor or range finder and have changed tack again to come here. Surely being so indecisive and costing the army so much money will make my promotion any further than bombardier unlikely?’
‘Good point. I’m going to suggest you complete your training, I’m sure you’ll come out top in everything you do, then politely decline your commission and explain your reasons. That way you can always become an officer at a later date if things change. Have you actually considered the benefits?’
‘I’ll have a better uniform, better accommodation, and an orderly to take care of me, and considerably more pay – but that means nothing if I’m not doing my best for the war effort.’
‘Good girl, well said. Nobody knows you’re here so you could leave at dawn and I’ll say I had a telephone call saying that you changed your mind.’
‘I can’t do that, sir, as I’m presently unattached. My unit was at Binbrook and goodness knows where they are now.’
He nodded, drained his mug and put it down. ‘Then continue as planned. This meeting and conversation didn’t happen. Goodnight, Bombardier Cox.’
After putting everything back where she’d found it and removing every trace of their illegal occupation of the kitchen, Ruth collected her kitbag and went in search of the rec room. Tomorrow she would have to report to whoever was in charge and would offer to work in admin until her cohort arrived as she didn’t want to be idle.
The rec room was large and well furnished. There was a sideboard which had dozens of boardgames, packs of cards and even two sets of darts, although there was no sign of a dartboard. There were a dozen wooden chairs around a long table at one end of the room and two dozen assorted armchairs and three sofas at the other. More than adequate to accommodate the forty or so girls who would be training here.
After the illuminating conversation with the one-armed officer, Ruth was wide awake. She got out her stationery folder and sat down to write a long apologetic letter to Sam.
* * *
Sam explained to his parents how he thought they could solve the problem of Nan not being able to manage the stairs and Grandpa not wanting to live with her.
‘The front room’s large enough to put a single bed, a wardrobe and dressing table as well as having a couple of armchairs and so on. As you have a downstairs WC, Nan could move into that room permanently. She’s obviously happy there. By the way, Mum, she ate every mouthful and is now asleep.’
‘That’s the best news I’ve had in months, Sam,’ she said as she carefully stirred the generous portion of stew for his grandfather’s supper. ‘I think moving her downstairs makes perfect sense.’
‘I could do that tomorrow, son, I don’t know why we didn’t think of that ourselves. What about my dad?’
‘Convert the workshop for him – in fact, why not get him to do it with you? I reckon it would make the perfect home for him. He’d be independent and can come and go as he likes but still have his meals here if he wants to,’ Sam replied.
His dad pursed his lips and then nodded. ‘That might just work, son. Give the old man something useful to do and he might be less belligerent.’ He grinned at Mum. ‘Are you ready, love, shall I let him in?’
‘Yes, hopefully he’ll have calmed down by now.’
Sam heaved himself upright. ‘I’m going to sit with Nan, don’t want things to get heated again.’
He spent the remainder of the evening happily listening to the evening big band concert but was pleased when his mum arrived with a mug of cocoa at ten. Nan had slept throughout.
‘Here you are, love, nice and hot. Your dad and I will get your nan sorted and put her to bed. You’ll be pleased to know your grandfather was sweetness and light when he came in. He’s eager to get the workshop converted and agreed he’d live there when it’s done.’
‘That’s the best possible news. I’ll drink this quickly, Mum, and get on to bed.’
Sam left his parents with his nan and hopped to the stairs. Going up backwards on his arse was the safest option. He did this, carefully manoeuvring his crutches beside him.
When he got to the top, he wasn’t sure how to negotiate the turning and having to stand in order to get safely onto the landing and wished he’d asked his dad to come up with him.
There was a sound behind him and his grandpa spoke. ‘Here, let me give you a hand, son, you’ll likely fall headfirst down the stairs and break your neck otherwise.’
He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. ‘Ta, Grandad, that would be a great help.’
Who was this genial bloke? His grandfather had never smiled or spoken to him so nicely and Sam could hardly believe the apparent change in the old man.
It was easy to regain his feet with his grandfather hauling on his arms. ‘There. Goodnight, Sam. Pity you can’t help with the conversion as it would be done in a trice if you were. You’ve always been good at your trade. Being a first-class builder runs in your blood.’
‘It certainly does. Goodnight, Grandpa.’ He had been about to mention the knife incident but changed his mind. Let sleeping dogs lie. He chuckled as he entered the bedroom he’d once shared with his younger brother.
Using that silly saying reminded him of Ruth. Tomorrow he’d write to her, try and put things right between them. Tonight was a night for miracles. His nan had held his hand and eaten her meal and his grandad had just been pleasant. Neither thing had ever happened before.
* * *
Sam had a decent night’s kip and was woken the next morning with breakfast on a tray. ‘Blimey, Mum, I told you I didn’t want waiting on. But ta for doing it. I can’t remember the last time I had breakfast in bed.’
‘I expect it was when you had the measles when you were little. Your grandparents didn’t hold with making a fuss but you were so poorly you couldn’t get out of bed.’
‘I’ll be down soon and will keep Nan company.’
‘There’s no rush, love, that banging you can hear is your grandad and dad sorting out the front room. I’m leaving Nan where she is until all that’s done. Whilst I’m getting her dressed in the bathroom, they’ll take the bed down.’
‘I’ve got to write a letter to someone, someone I hope you’ll meet if I can put things right between us.’
Mum smiled but didn’t ask any questions. She left him to his boiled eggs, soldiers with Marmite and mug of tea. He needed to unpack his kitbag, find his wash bag and stationery, put everything away as it should be or his uniform would become creased.
He hopped out to the bathroom before it was needed by Nan and shaved quickly, then returned to his bedroom to write the most important letter he’d ever written. Not that he’d written many and the only ones to a girl had been to Ruth.
His fountain pen was empty and he didn’t have the ink to refill it so he’d have to wait until he was downstairs and could use the bottle that was kept in the desk in the office for writing invoices and so on.
He heard his grandmother being escorted to the bathroom and thought this was a good time to emerge from his bedroom and bump his way down the stairs. He wouldn’t need any help going this way to stand up.
The front room door was wide open and both his dad and grandpa were in there chatting away as if they hadn’t been rowing last night.
‘Morning, gents, this looks just the ticket. I’ll make the bed up. I can do that on one leg – I reckon I could do it standing on my head. Every bloke in the army, apart from the officers, is a dab hand at bed making.’ If Sam had suggested that he sang the national anthem, they couldn’t have been more surprised.
‘That’s women’s work, son, it doesn’t seem right that you do it,’ Dad said.
‘Been doing it for the past three years like every other soldier. Why don’t you two push off and let me get on with it? Nan will be down soon and I want it to look tidy for her.’
He issued the order without thinking, it was something he did every day as an NCO. His heart thumped heavily and he waited for the explosion.
‘Right, son, Dad and I will leave you to it. We’re going to have a look at the workshop and then your grandpa will start clearing it whilst I get off to work.’
The two of them left without another word – how things had changed. Sam was still wary of his grandfather – he might be friendly and polite this morning but last night he’d grabbed a kitchen knife and had wanted to gut him. Something he wouldn’t forget in a hurry.
He was kept busy helping in the office all morning and didn’t get the chance to even consider writing his letter until after lunch. The changes to the front room had been completed and his nan was content with the new arrangements. Or he thought she was, it was hard to tell. The fact that the old lady had walked over and climbed onto the bed for her afternoon nap had to be a good sign.
He left his grandmother to sleep and returned to the kitchen, where his mum was preparing the veg for the evening meal.
‘Mum, I’m finally going to write that letter. Did I hear you telling Dad that the lady from the council houses will be starting tomorrow? How did Grandpa take the news?’
‘He doesn’t know. He’ll have to get used to it. You coming, that scene last night, was just what was needed to push us into making the changes we should have done years ago.’
‘About that, Mum, I’m still bothered by the knife. Has Grandpa been violent before?’
His mother looked away, didn’t answer for moment. Then she sighed. ‘Yes, it started when Nan got ill. He slapped her a few times but your dad put him straight. That’s when the drinking started.’
‘Then the sooner he’s living elsewhere the better. None of you are safe when he’s so unpredictable.’
* * *
Ruth had written her letter to Sam and then curled up on the sofa using her kitbag as a pillow and her greatcoat as a blanket. Her sleep was fitful as she was determined not to be found where she was in the morning.
She was jerked fully awake by the sound of a bugle. She almost fell off the sofa. Why would reveille be sounded at an OCTU? Surely the girls training to be officers weren’t expected to do the same things they’d done as privates?
She’d never moved so fast in her life. The bugle had hardly stopped playing by the time she’d repacked her kitbag, straightened her skirt and pinned up her hair. Thank God she’d had the foresight to change her collar, put on clean stockings and polish her shoes last night as there wouldn’t be time to do it now.
After snatching up her uniform jacket from the back of a chair, she pulled it on, hastily buttoned it and adjusted the belt. All she had to do now was pin on her cap and she’d be ready for inspection.
She hid her kitbag behind the sofa, checked the room was as tidy as it had been when she’d come in last night, and was ready to emerge and pray that whoever was in charge wouldn’t be annoyed at her early arrival.
Dozens of officer trainees were trooping down the central staircase, all immaculately dressed, many of them were looking rested and happy – but there were exceptions. A fair number of them had miserable faces, which wasn’t something she’d expected to see. They were presumably heading for breakfast, but none of them were carrying their irons. This was fortunate as she’d forgotten to get hers out of her bag. Cutlery and mugs must be provided here.
There were no bombardiers, no white lanyards to be seen on any shoulders which was a shame as she could have bonded with them. She’d expected to be spoken to but was ignored as they fell into groups and marched to the mess hall.
Ruth followed behind them and as each group peeled off, she noticed that one of them was missing a member. She followed them and slipped into a place at the same table. Only then did someone comment on her unexpected appearance.
‘You must be replacing Penny, she left yesterday, compassionate grounds,’ a tall dark-haired girl said without much enthusiasm. From her diction, she was definitely the sort of young woman the army wanted to promote to officer status. ‘You are not a welcome replacement in our group.’
‘I’m not replacing anyone as far as I know.’
The dark-haired girl raised her aristocratic eyebrows. ‘No one arrives late for officer training. It just isn’t done. I expect you will be in disgrace. Look at her, girls, she’s not one of us, is she?’
A surge of irritation ran through Ruth. She knew responding was a bad idea, but she was tired and unhappy and being sneered at wasn’t on. This supercilious girl reminded her of the bullying she’d received when she first went to boarding school. She’d not allowed that to continue either.
‘Is it not? Then I must be invisible.’ She leaned forward so she could speak quietly. There was a nervous collective withdrawal of breath as she spoke. The others must be expecting an outburst from the bully.
Then something she’d noticed but not registered made her smile. She was the only one with any stripes. She outranked them.
‘You privates must be both ignorant and blind. You are insubordinate and I intend to make a formal complaint. I do hope you enjoy scrubbing latrines.’
Finally, the penny dropped. The girls stared at her in horror. Ruth ignored them and smiled her thanks to the mess orderly who’d just put her breakfast in front of her. The shocked silence didn’t bother her and Ruth tucked in, knowing she’d have no further trouble from anyone on this table.