Chapter Twenty-Three

Next morning dawned way too early for everyone except Bobby who, as soon as he was let out the back, darted around Betty’s garden, poking his nose into every bush, flower, and potato plant. He reserved his special attention for the chicken coop and rabbit run.

“I don’t know about you,” Betty said, leaning against the kitchen door frame whilst nursing a steaming cup of tea, “but I feel exhausted just watching him.”

The morning was cold yet clear, with dew dripping from the leaves and a slight early morning mist still stubbornly hanging in the air. Against expectations, everyone had been up earlier than normal, and the smell of bacon frying was soon wafting through the cottage. Walter was on tea-making duty, whilst Lawrence was demonstrating his culinary skills. All the girls were more than happy to accept an unexpected bacon sarnie. Whilst brewing up, Walter explained how Lawrence had caught him halfway to the hospital.

“By then, I think I’d run out of adrenalin. So we chatted, and before we knew it, dawn was only a few hours away. Don’t ask me what we talked about, but he persuaded me charging into the hospital in the small hours of the morning wouldn’t have made me the most popular person and I should wait until after breakfast this morning. Especially after the pasting Portsmouth took.”

Lawrence dished bacon onto a plate for Penny to divide up into sandwiches whilst he put on another frying pan full. “And I was quite right. I expect Doris would have sent him on his way with a flea in his ear, if he’d have managed to see her in the first place.”

“Thanks very much,” Betty said, accepting her butty. Taking a bite, she savored the sweet bacon against the coarse bread, wiping the grease from her chin. “You can come here again!” she told him before turning her attention back to keeping an eye out for Ruth’s dog.

This was a little late as, in the few moments she’d had her back to the garden, Bobby had disappeared. “Bobby! Here, boy,” she called, walking into her back garden to see if she could see where he’d gone. “Ruth? Bobby’s gone. Do you think he’d go back to your place?”

Ruth appeared next to her, though she didn’t seem particularly worried. Glancing around, she caught sight of what she’d been looking for. She pointed to a corner of her garden. “There’s a hole in the hedge there. I’d say it leads toward my place. You’re probably right,” she agreed and drank down the rest of her tea.

Taking her friend by the hand, Ruth led her inside, put her cup in the sink, and drew Betty into a hug. “Thank you,” she said. “I can’t thank you enough for putting us up last night.”

“Think nothing of it, Ruth. I didn’t do anything you wouldn’t have done for me, if our positions had been reversed.”

Ruth pulled back and even had a slight smile on her face as she surveyed the kitchen. Mary, Penny, and Shirley, all togged up and ready for work, were happily munching their way through their unexpected breakfasts whilst watching and listening to what was being said. The cook was finishing off his share.

“Walter, can I leave the office to you today? After you’ve been to see Doris, of course,” she added.

As if he didn’t trust his mouth to speak, Walter nodded.

“I don’t think it’ll be as bad as it looked last night,” Shirley couldn’t help but say, though she then looked as if she wished she hadn’t said anything.

Ruth, though, went and kissed the top of her head. “Very sweet of you.”

“I’ll see if I can get the day off, Ruth,” Shirley offered.

Ruth shook her head. “No. You three had better get to work. Lawrence and I will do what we can.”

“I’ll come and help too,” Betty offered.

“Oh, no, you won’t, Betty Palmer,” Ruth said. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy. Or had you forgotten?”

Betty looked like a puppy caught being naughty. “Not forgotten. I was kind of hoping everyone else had, though. However, I’ll still be walking around to see what needs doing.”

Before anyone could argue, they heard someone attempting to turn a key in the front door. Everyone looked at each other and did a mental tot up. All who should be present were, apart from Doris. Multiple eyebrows shot up as it hit them it could only be one person.

“Don’t just stand there,” Penny urged. “Let her in!”

A little too enthusiastically, Walter wrenched the door open, prompting a disheveled and pale Doris to tumble inside.

****

“Heck of a welcome home,” Doris grumbled five minutes later when Betty had her tucked up in bed, the others having gone on their way. She was in a bad mood not caused by her wound. Walter had been packed off to work without being able to do more than satisfy himself that his girlfriend would be all right at home. “I’m sure we’re supposed to be looking after you!”

Betty, still in her dressing gown, parked herself beside the American’s elbow on the bed. “I won’t tell anyone, if you don’t,” she told her friend with a twinkle in her eye.

“Oh, very funny,” Doris replied, holding on to her annoyance at being treated like an invalid. “Look,” she pleaded, trying to paste on her best smile and swiping up her fringe to reveal as large a sticking plaster as could be placed onto a face without it obscuring one’s vision. “I’m fine. No concussion, there’s still blood in the old head, and look…” She held out her hands before her. “No wobble or anything.”

Betty’s expression needed no words.

“Honest! They wouldn’t have let me out if they thought anything was wrong.”

“Or, and work with me on this one,” Betty said, “you may have sneaked out?”

Doris promptly went bright red. A knocking on the front door interrupted them.

“Don’t say a thing,” Betty told her and went to answer the door.

Upon opening it, she didn’t even have the chance to open her mouth before the person on the other side of the door stated, “I take it she’s here.”

Answering with a nod, Betty stood aside and waved Nurse Grace through. “I was right, then.”

“Right about what?” Grace asked, untying her cape and hanging it up.

“About a certain someone escaping from the hospital.”

Grace grumbled to herself without replying as she headed upstairs. “There you are! Sister would like to have your guts for garters!”

Betty matched the nurse’s stern look as best she could. This was easy, as she could tell Grace’s heart didn’t match her words. The Sister may have wanted Doris hung out to dry, but Betty knew Grace had no such intention.

Doris hadn’t picked up on this yet, though. She reached out a hand toward the nurse. “Oh, Grace, I hope I haven’t caused you any trouble.”

“Not me,” Grace replied, still trying to keep up the façade.

Gripping her hand, Doris implored, “Don’t take me back, please. I’ll stay in bed, though…” she added, a touch of hope in her voice, “I’d rather go back to work.”

“Which brings me to,” Grace declared, whipping a piece of paper out of her handbag, “the doctor’s note.” She unfolded it and read out loud, “To summarize. The doctors couldn’t find any signs of concussion, but”—she raised her eyebrows when Doris opened her mouth—“they’re not totally certain. Therefore, you’re off flying duties for a week. No arguments!” She waved a warning forefinger when Doris started to protest.

“I’ll give Thelma a ring in a bit, let her know about the wounded warrior here,” Betty advised.

Doris raised a hand and tenderly touched her forehead, winced, and dropped her hand. “Bloody piece of glass.”

“You’re very lucky it wasn’t a bit of Nazi shrapnel,” Betty pointed out.

“Very lucky indeed,” Grace agreed.

Doris had the good grace to appear subdued. “Point taken. I’m sorry if I caused you a problem, Grace,” she added.

“I can’t keep it up any longer,” the nurse announced, dropping onto the bed at Doris’s feet, Betty close behind her. “Not really. I’m sure Betty remembers what Sister Modesty Henry is like.”

Betty let out a pantomime shudder. “Not half.”

“Let me put it this way,” Grace told her. “Try not to need hospital treatment any time in the near future, if you follow my meaning.”

“Hint taken,” Doris told her.

A few minutes later, Grace had followed Betty downstairs and into the kitchen.

“What happened here?” she wanted to know, looking at the mucky marks on the floor and the scratches on the doors and chair legs.

Betty pulled one out and gingerly sat down. “I expect you heard about the bit of excitement we had last night?”

“Not exactly what I’d call it,” Grace replied, frowning.

“Very true. Well, I shut Bobby up in here last night. He didn’t like it.”

Grace fingered a groove running down her chair leg. “So I see.”

“The others had to leave, and I haven’t been able to grip a mop since I got back. Something about the angle,” she explained. “Mind you, compared to what Ruth’s place looks like, this can wait until tonight. I’ll get one of the girls to give it a quick go-over then.” Betty paused. “Was it bad last night? You know, with Portsmouth.”

A dark shroud seemed to enfold the nurse. Eventually, she found her voice. “Not as bad, at least for us, as it could have been. We took in a few cases, as overflow, but not as many as we thought we might get. It could have been a lot, lot worse, or so I’m led to believe,” she admitted.

“Thank heaven for small mercies,” Betty muttered.

Grace got to her feet, stretched, and went to retrieve her cape. “Well, now I’ve found the escapee and told her off, per a certain Sister’s instructions, I’ll go and check in on Lawrence.”

“I’ll come with you,” Betty told her, getting to her feet. “Don’t try to persuade me otherwise. I know I should be resting, but honestly, I feel better when I’m on my feet. Plus, I told Ruth I’d be around later.”

“I know better than to try to persuade you otherwise.”

“Good girl.” Betty smiled before yelling up the stairs, “Doris? We’re going around to Ruth’s. You stay in bed, please. I won’t be long.”

“All right.” She could hear Doris’s shouted reply, plus the less than muttered coda, “If I bloody well have to.”

****

Betty and Grace came through the side gate, which was hanging on one hinge, to a sight like hell on earth, or as near to it as they would want to come.

It had looked bad enough last night, but the darkness had hidden the worst of the damage. What she’d thought had been blown-out windows and torn-off curtains she could now see was much more. The windows were gone, yes, along with most of the frames. The back door was nowhere in sight. Below the eaves, there were multiple holes, likely caused by flying debris, or shrapnel of some kind. There were tiles missing from the roof, too, though perhaps not as many as there could have been.

“Watch out below!”

Betty and Grace both looked up from where they were standing, before the missing kitchen windows, just as a broken roof tile crashed to the ground a few feet away from them. Stepping back, both women craned their necks up and could see men in khaki edging themselves across the roof.

From behind them came the call of, “Betty! Grace! Over here!”

Walter, accompanied by Sergeant Green, made toward the pair through the gap in the hedge where the bomb had fallen. As they came closer, Betty recalled something from last night about the sergeant bringing a section along to see what could be done for Ruth’s cottage. True enough, not only were the men on the roof seeing what damage they could repair, but there were more behind Walter.

“Just making sure there’s nothing back there which could do any more harm, Ms. Palmer,” the sergeant said by way of explanation.

Unseen, Ruth appeared behind them, making the pair jump when she touched both on their shoulders. “Isn’t this good of them?” she exclaimed. “I think we’ve got half the men from the village helping out!”

It seemed true enough. Not counting those on the roof, those who’d been trailing behind Walter and his sergeant now went into the house.

“It’s honestly not as bad as it looks,” Lawrence said.

Looking around, Betty and Grace saw Lawrence, previously unnoticed by them, set up in a deckchair down by the doghouse. Bobby, the owner of the doghouse, was lying at his feet.

At seeing her patient, Grace strode toward him, whilst Betty went over to join Ruth, Walter, and the sergeant.

“Is he really right?” Betty asked. “Can your cottage be made livable?”

Ruth nodded, a smile on her face. “Oh, yes. Matthew here,” she clapped the sergeant on the shoulder, nearly knocking him over, no mean feat as he was at least six inches taller than she was, “is a builder, and though he does advise me to get a proper survey done, he tells me he can’t see any structural damage. It’s mainly the roof, windows, and doors.”

“She’s right,” the sergeant said. “I was about to send Walter here off with a few men to grab some tarpaulin from my yard. I don’t have any tiles in stock, but we can at least make the roof rainproof until I can get some in.”

“Isn’t he a gem?” Ruth stated enthusiastically.

The sergeant then jogged into the cottage, leaving Betty with the distinct impression she may have missed something.

Taking the opportunity, Walter leant in toward the two women and, hiding his mouth behind a hand, told them, “Not what I’d call him.” Though he did have a ghost of a smile on his face as he said it.

“Don’t be so tough on Matthew,” Ruth scolded, still smiling.

Walter held up his hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know. He’s like sergeants everywhere, all sweetness and light.”

Betty asked Walter, “Weren’t you going in to the office?”

“I made an executive decision,” he told her. “I’m more useful helping out here. Ruth told me off when I turned up with this mob, but then she saw sense. I’m sure everyone will understand if we’re closed for a day. I did put a note up in the window before shutting up,” he added.

“I can hardly complain,” Ruth added. “I mean, look at all this!” She waved her arms around as if to encompass all the endeavor going on around them.

“Do you think it’ll be ready today?” This was Grace, who’d finished taking a look at Lawrence and, together with an ever-hopeful Bobby, had joined them.

“Probably not,” Ruth admitted, her smile slipping somewhat.

“Johnson! Get yourself over here!”

“See you in a while,” Walter told the women, as he jogged over to join two other members of the Home Guard.

Betty hooked an arm through Ruth’s. “You must stay with me again,” she told her. “You’re welcome for as long as you need.”

Ruth turned her head to take another look at the cottage, gauging how long it might take to make the repairs, before turning back to her friend. “Assuming they can get the planks to board up the windows, we should be able to move in tomorrow. There’ll be glass and wood and God knows what everywhere, but at least we’ll have a roof over our heads.”

“What about the electricity, gas, and water?” Betty asked.

“Water’s fine, or else we’d have been in more trouble last night,” Ruth pointed out. Betty nodded in agreement. “Nobody can smell any gas, but Walter told me he phoned the gas board to get someone out to come and give it a check.”

“When?” Grace asked, and then went a little red at her presumption.

Ruth smiled to show she was okay to ask questions. “Sometime in the next few days.”

“Look, if you insist upon sleeping here, you at least have to come over to my place for meals whilst you’re waiting to get the okay,” Betty restated.

“Seems fair,” Ruth agreed, looking around. “Electricity’s fine. I flicked a switch without thinking and, well, nothing went bang!” The shrug of her shoulders didn’t fool anyone. She knew she’d been lucky. Ruth walked over to where her chicken coop stood. Quickly, she looked back up, her expression one of annoyance. “Bloody great hole in the back! Little buggers have all done a runner!” She then made her way toward her rabbit hutch. This time when she straightened up, she wore a huge smile. “Fancy rabbit tonight?”

Conversation was halted by the sound of someone clearing his throat in a very loud and pompous fashion. The three women looked around for its source and saw a rather small man, nearly as wide as he was tall, wearing a bowler hat and a three-piece suit, standing in the gap left by the missing gate. Despite a distinct lack of height, he gave every impression of looking down his nose at everyone in sight.

Being the property owner, Ruth strode over toward him. “Can I help you? I’m Ruth Stone.”

Whoever he was, manners were not high on his list of priorities, as he ignored the hand Ruth held out for him to shake.

Without preamble, the man stated, “I am looking for a Miss Penelope Blake.”

Ruth wasn’t one to take rudeness lying down. “And you are?”

By this time, both Betty and Grace had joined their friend, whilst Lawrence could be seen struggling to his feet.

“I am her father, Mr. Blake.”

Ruth and Betty raised an eyebrow at this announcement, both being familiar with the story of Penny’s flit from the house of her overbearing father.

“Well, Mr. Blake,” Ruth replied, emphasizing the title he gave himself with undisguised disdain, “Penny will be out delivering aircraft—for the war effort,” she added, getting the expected rise from him.

“And when would you expect her back?” he asked, taking a large step back so he wasn’t craning his neck up at the women who fairly emanated hostility before him.

Betty, as the member of the ATA present, answered this time. “She’ll be as long as she’s needed, Mr. Blake. So, no, I can’t tell you when she’ll be home. By the way, she lives with me, next door.” She didn’t bother to tell him her name but being English, good manners still wouldn’t entirely stay repressed. “I can get a message to her, if you want. Was there something you needed?”

“From Penelope? Hardly,” the round man replied, looking around at the same time as Lawrence joined them. He therefore didn’t see Ruth place a hand on the crutch Lawrence had raised with the intention to clout him around the head. “I only want to know if she’s seen her sister.”

“Why would she have seen her sister?” Betty asked, puzzled. “She’s hardly been on leave. Not even when she…”

Ruth cut in before Betty could complete her sentence and let him know his daughter was married. The little man hardly seemed the most caring of fathers. After telling them why she had to get out from under his thumb, especially after he’d tried to force her into a marriage to someone she didn’t even know, she saw no reason to tell him.

“…has the time,” Ruth finished a little vaguely.

Betty realized what she’d nearly done, yet recovered admirably. “You’re welcome to wait around my cottage for her.” Everything considered, this was a very generous offer.

Not one the officious little man recognized. “No.” As a seeming afterthought, he added, “Thank you.” He continued, “I’m sure she would have told you if Celia had been in contact. No, if you would be so good as to tell her I was here and to phone me if she hears from her.”

“You’re not staying to see Penny?” Lawrence didn’t trouble to keep the incredulous note from his voice.

Again, the little man made a strange harrumphing sound in the back of his throat. Straightening his tie, which needed no adjustment, he replied, “No. I have a meeting in London I’m needed for. All very important,” he added quite unnecessarily before turning on the ball of a foot and striding off without so much as a goodbye.

“Has he gone?” a female voice asked from somewhere near Bobby’s doghouse.