Two days after the new lodgers had arrived, Joanna, as promised, travelled to the village in the gig driven expertly by Joe. Despite her tumble from the bicycle the day before, she would much rather be riding it than sitting in the gig. She knew she’d never be entirely comfortable travelling this way. She really didn’t trust horses to behave. Liza was sitting beside her, clutching the three small bolts of material that she’d managed to find in the attics.
‘Them two WAAF girls made their own breakfast this morning, my lady, and had been gone an hour or more by the time I came down. The kettle was stone cold, that’s how I knew.’
‘They have to work from dawn until dusk at the moment. I must remember to ring the base and ask if we’re supposed to supply them with a packed lunch. It means you have to remain on duty later in order to give them their hot meal when they get back.’
‘I ain’t bothered about that,’ Liza said happily. ‘I like them and I don’t have to stay after I’ve served as they tidy up for me.’
‘I had a phone call from a WAAF officer this morning saying that we’ll be getting at least six more girls, not four. It’s a good thing the ladies from the village will be able to come in, as it’s going to be far too much for just you and Betty.’
‘We’ve got the extra rooms ready, my lady, but there’ll be too many to eat in the kitchen. Will I lay up in the dining room?’
‘As my mother-in-law now has the breakfast parlour as her own, we’ve no option but to do that. It’s all very well in the summer, but it’s going to be a problem heating all the extra rooms next winter. I’m expected to pay for fuel out of the generous allowance I’m given. Heaven knows where we’ll get it, as it’s already in short supply.’
Joe had been listening to this conversation and joined in without taking his eyes from the mare, who was trotting along smoothly, but might well spook if something untoward occurred – like a squadron of Hurricanes flying overhead.
‘I can get Starlight to pull the cart instead of this gig. Then I can collect as much wood as we need from the grounds – I reckon we’ll have enough for this winter and probably next as well.’
‘Then do that, Joe, and get it stacked in the barn so it dries out before the autumn.’
He reined in beside the haberdasher’s and kept the horse steady whilst she and Liza clambered out. ‘I can’t wait here, my lady, no room for anyone else to pass. I can wait just outside the village on the road what leads to Ramsgate where there’s a nice bit of grazing. When shall I come back?’
As the church clock no longer struck the hour and he didn’t have a watch, this was a difficult question to answer. Joanna had a brainwave. ‘The bus comes in at just after midday, it’ll have to pass you so be ready, and then follow it in. That should give us ample time.’
Whilst they were inside, and Liza was being measured and looking at patterns, she heard in the distance the roar of aircraft taking off from the base. It sounded as if more than one squadron had gone, so it must be something important. Her mouth was dry and she was unnerved for a moment. Then she pushed her fears aside and smiled. Better to concentrate on what she could control and ignore the ominous signs overhead.
They were outside on the pavement waiting when Joe returned. ‘Ta ever so much, my lady,’ Liza said, ‘I can’t tell you how happy I am to be having new frocks. Not only frocks but knickers and such – I’ll be the bee’s knees when I get them.’
‘You really need new shoes as well, but there’s nothing available at the moment at the cobbler. I think that your feet might well be the same size as Sarah’s were a year or two ago – I’m pretty sure I know where her old ones are. I’ll search them out for you.’
When they arrived back at Goodwill House, Joanna went in through the front door, but Liza stayed in the gig and travelled around to the back and would go in through the rear entrance. As soon as Joanna stepped into the hall, she was waylaid by her mother-in-law’s personal servant.
‘My lady, the Dowager Lady Harcourt is refusing to get up today. She says that she’s dying and that I’m to leave her to get on with it.’
‘I’d no idea that she was unwell.’
‘I don’t think she is, my lady, I just think she’s given up.’ Baxter shook her head. ‘She knows that she’s not wanted here but has nowhere else to go.’
‘I’ll come up shortly and speak to her. I’m not sure what good that will do, but I’ll do my best to restore her spirits.’
Baxter nodded and scuttled back up the stairs. Joanna headed for the telephone and asked the operator to connect her to Dr Willoughby. She was fortunate, as he answered the telephone himself.
How could she have missed the signs? She didn’t like her mother-in-law, but she deserved to be cared for and not ignored.
She explained the problem briefly. ‘It’s very difficult, Dr Willoughby, as I really don’t like her and she certainly doesn’t like me. I’m pretty sure my husband won’t be happy to know she’s living here either, as he’s not spoken to her since she refused to come to our wedding.’
‘I’ll come and see her around teatime as I’m making another call at a farm near you. I’ll check that there’s nothing physical to worry about and then we can take it from there.’
Millie watched the Hurricanes scream overhead as they scrambled and was on edge until they returned an hour later to rearm and refuel before tearing off again. The Blenheims had also joined this particular sortie and she watched for their return equally anxiously.
Her boys came back safely but one of Di’s planes was missing. Millie made sure there were full Thermos flasks, sandwiches and buns available at all times. She’d also kept some food and drink for herself so, when she returned the much quieter young men to their billets, she felt a lot better than she had yesterday.
Despite the fact that from the rear the men looked similar, she could now pick out Ted from the crowd. He was above-average height and walked with a distinctive stride – she thought he’d be very good at square bashing, something she was glad she no longer had to do. It had always been a struggle to keep in time when marching up and down. During training, everything was a parade, even collecting their meagre wages once a fortnight.
She was a hopeless dancer, with the proverbial ‘two left feet’, and this had made marching in time a struggle. She could do the Gay Gordons and the polka but that was her absolute limit.
When she parked the lorry, the sergeant was waiting to speak to both of them. ‘Take care of those bicycles, ladies, those bloody flyers will nick them if they can. I’ve managed to wangle two more girls – they’ll be staying with you and should arrive in a couple of days.’
‘Thank you, sir, that’s really good news,’ Millie said.
‘I’m not an officer – call me Sarge, not sir. Once the other two are here, you’ll not just be driving lorries but ferrying officers about the place and collecting spare parts. There are several bases and we often borrow from each other when we run short of something.’
‘We’ll obviously do whatever’s required, Sarge. Good night,’ Di said cheerfully as she hopped onto one of the cycles.
Millie thought her friend remarkably cheerful, considering the crew of the Blenheim hadn’t returned. ‘Have you heard anything about the missing plane?’
‘The two men were picked up safely – only the Blenheim has gone for a Burton. They don’t like that fighter bomber at all – none of them do – but they still go up there when asked, knowing they’re quite likely not to return.’
‘It looks all right – what’s wrong with it?’
‘Far too slow and the German fighters can out-shoot and out-fly them every time.’
They decided to leave the bicycles on the other side of the fence, where they could be sure no wandering airman could pinch them. This was the first opportunity she’d had to tell Di about her encounter with the older Lady Harcourt.
‘You have to mention it to Joanna, Millie, they might not like each other but the Dowager is her responsibility.’
‘I’m not sure when I can do that, as we’ve left before she comes down and don’t get back until after she’s gone up. I don’t think it’s the sort of thing I should discuss with Liza, do you?’
‘You could always write her a note? I’m too tired to do more than wash my hands and face before I eat. What about you?’
‘Same here. At least it’ll be easier when there are four of us. I wonder how the rota will be organised? Will we split the shift, work on alternative days?’
‘Haven’t the foggiest and don’t really care. Something smells good – I don’t care what it is, as a couple of sandwiches and a bun is just not enough.’
They shared the sink in the downstairs cloakroom and headed eagerly for the kitchen. To their surprise, Joanna was waiting to speak to them.
‘Goodness me, what a long day you two have had. I sent Liza to bed as I want to speak to you in confidence. Do you mind awfully serving yourselves tonight?’
She waited until they were halfway through their meal before explaining why she was there. ‘Lady Harcourt is unwell. I had to call out the doctor and he says the problem is more emotional than physical, but she’s lost far too much weight and just isn’t eating properly.’
‘I had to help her to bed last night, Joanna, and was going to tell you how frail I thought she was.’
‘Thank you, Millie. This leads me to the confidential aspect of our conversation. I’m sure you know that I don’t get on with my mother-in-law – she’s a very difficult woman – but I’m determined to make more effort. The thought that she’s so unhappy that she’s starving herself is quite dreadful.’
Di had already cleared her plate and was looking hopefully at the range.
‘I’m going to include her in our mealtimes – I don’t think it’s good for her to be isolated. When the other girls come, the day after tomorrow, we’ll have to use the dining room anyway. I’m hoping that you can try to include her in your conversations, make her feel more part of the family.’
‘Of course we can, I’m sure she’s got hundreds of interesting stories she can tell us about her life in the south of France. Don’t worry, Joanna, I rather like a challenge.’ Millie picked up both the empty plates. ‘I’m having seconds, Di, what about you?’
‘Absolutely – I’m not exactly sure what was in the stew, but it was absolutely scrumptious.’
Joanna said goodnight and drifted off, leaving them to eat everything left for them and then quickly dispose of the washing-up.
‘I don’t know why she expects us to include the old biddy in our lives,’ Di said, as they prepared for bed.
‘We just have talk to her, listen to what she has to say, ask her opinion about things even if we don’t want to know the answer – I had a very similar grandmother who, although generally disliked by most, I actually got on really well with. I’m hoping I can put some of that experience to good use.’
An image of the old lady she’d been sent to stay with during most holidays filled her mind. Initially there had been little fondness between them, but by the end of that first summer together, they had struck up an unlikely but genuine friendship. When Grandma had died two years ago, Millie had been bereft, knowing there was now no one in the world who really cared for her.
‘I don’t think it’s fair to be asked to become involved in something that’s nothing to do with us. We just board here, we’re not relatives or friends of the family and by rights we should be living in RAF accommodation on the base.’
‘Are you saying that you don’t want to help Joanna?’
‘I’m saying exactly that. I joined the WAAF to help with the war effort, not to become entangled in something that’s nothing to do with me. I think we should ask to be moved somewhere less intrusive.’
Millie shook her head. ‘You absolutely mustn’t create problems for Joanna. I didn’t realise that you’re such a selfish person, but I suppose the fact that you don’t like dogs was a good indication.’ Her hand flew to her mouth as if she could push back the unkind words. This was her first disagreement with her dearest friend, and she was shocked that she’d spoken so harshly.
Di flinched as if she’d been slapped, and Millie rushed across and hugged her. ‘I’m so sorry. That was absolutely vile of me. I don’t think you’re selfish, I think you’re just being practical and, unlike me, are taking your duties very seriously.’
Di hugged her back. ‘That’s all right, we’re both tired. I won’t say anything at the base about what’s going on, but it’s quite possible the other girls might complain if things become too stressful here.’
‘Anyway, we were told this placement was temporary. As soon as the mess hall and recreation rooms are ready, then we’ll all be moving to the base. We’ll have our own officers to keep us in line.’ Millie reached out and turned off the bedside light. ‘I know this place isn’t perfect, but I really like it here and don’t you think having to spend a bit of time with a grumpy old lady is preferable to sleeping on those horrible biscuits, having to parade for everything and having to eat sausage and mash and prunes and custard from the same plate, like we did at our last posting?’
Di laughed. ‘Oh, please don’t remind me. You’re right – I was being silly – living here is much nicer than sharing a Nissen hut with thirty other girls.’
That night, Millie found it hard to sleep. She listened to the steady breathing of her friend and wondered if they were really as close as she thought.
Ted had finally fired his guns in anger – he hadn’t hit the target but at least he’d made the Jerry change course and hopefully not fire his guns on the retreating troops. He’d narrowly avoided being caught by two Messerschmitts but was returning his precious Hurry with only one or two bullet holes. He thought he’d acquitted himself reasonably well and, after devouring a massive meal, decided to join his fellow flyers in the mess.
Nobody mentioned the sorties, the fact that a Blenheim had been lost in the drink, they just added to their bar bill and sang rude songs when one of the chaps sat at the piano and started playing. He didn’t stay as long as Dickie but still made his way to his room feeling decidedly unsteady. He wasn’t used to consuming more than a pint of shandy and he thought he’d had at least three pints of bitter.
Thank god they didn’t get scrambled at night, as he doubted that anyone was safe to fly. As always, he set out what he’d need in the morning. Heavy flannelette pyjamas were issued to all RAF personnel but, like his roommate, he preferred to sleep in his underwear.
Their laundry was done for them by their orderly, so he dumped today’s shirt and so on into the bag provided and hung it on the outside of the doorknob. He rather liked the unusual sensation of the bed spinning when he lay flat, but for some reason, despite his consumption of alcohol, he couldn’t fall asleep.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw images of the poor bastards desperately retreating towards the coast. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of French civilians, carrying their belonging, or pushing them in a wheelbarrow or handcart, fleeing ahead of the German tanks and infantry – but they were going south rather than to the coast.
Dover Harbour was full of ships – navy vessels and private boats of all sizes were gathering there. There were hundreds of thousands of soldiers, both British and French, being pursued by the Germans as they retreated – it just didn’t seem feasible that many of them could be evacuated.
The Luftwaffe had numerical superiority and the experience of fighting in the air during the Spanish Civil War, and Ted didn’t see how the RAF could prevent a massacre. From what he’d seen, it was only a matter of days before the BEF and the French and Belgian armies were overrun. Whether they would be taken prisoner or slaughtered, he’d no idea, and pushed the thoughts aside. He couldn’t do his duty if he was worrying about things he couldn’t influence.
He’d been told by someone that if you consumed a lot of alcohol then you should drink water to dilute it. His bladder was already awash with beer, so it hardly seemed sensible to add more liquid. With a groan of resignation, he rolled from bed and padded down to the WC.
‘There you are, been to the bog?’ Dickie asked cheerfully when he returned. ‘Top hole night, don’t you think? Things are only going to get worse, so we might as well enjoy ourselves whilst we can.’
Ted didn’t stir until the Tannoy blasted into the room the next morning, jerking him from his drunken slumber. His mouth felt like the bottom of a parrot cage – and he really wished he’d brought a glass of water with him as instructed.
‘Come on, Dickie Bird, time to flap your wings and fly.’ He grabbed the edge of the mattress and tipped his friend onto the linoleum. This was the only way to get him out of bed.
‘Bloody hell, Ted, that was harsh. Are you quite sure it’s time to get up?’
‘Of course it is, you buffoon. I’ve a sinking feeling that today’s going to be rather unpleasant – let’s hope more so for the Jerries than for us.’
‘Well, with Churchill in charge and Chamberlain gone, I think we’ve more chance of success.’
‘Success? I think if we survive the next few weeks and don’t get invaded it will be a major achievement.’ This sounded a rather bleak statement, but Dickie wasn’t bothered.
‘Live for the day, old boy, no point in worrying about something we’ve no control over.’
Dickie was probably right – their job was to fight the Jerries in the air and let the politicians worry about everything else.
Ted’s premonition of it being a difficult day was reinforced when he discovered that both squadrons of Hurries and of Blenheims were to be at readiness. From what he overheard from the more experienced flyers, this was the first time everyone had been on duty simultaneously. Things were escalating more quickly than he’d expected and he sent up a quick prayer to the gods of flyers that he wouldn’t let anyone down.
Before heading for his locker, Ted went to speak to his ground crew. They’d managed to repair the holes in the fuselage and his kite looked as good as new.
‘Something’s up, sir, what with all you blokes being here today,’ one of the men said. ‘Pity the poor buggers trapped over the water. They’re sitting ducks.’
‘We’re going to do our damnedest to keep the Luftwaffe away from the beaches. Let’s hope we have time for breakfast before the first party.’
The huts were overflowing, with not enough seats for everybody. Ted propped himself against the one with the telephone – the one where the call to scramble would be announced. He was remarkably calm, considering what was coming, and happily consumed two bacon sandwiches and half a flask of tea.
The telephone rang and he was on his feet before the man at the desk answered it. ‘Right. Good show,’ the airman said. ‘Okay, chaps, just heard we’re getting our very own NAAFI mobile canteen. From now on, we don’t have to share. It’s on the way over.’
As Ted was standing, he wandered outside to find Millie. Did she know about the van? He found her peering into the engine of her ancient lorry. Remarkable that these girls could also mend an engine as well as drive. He certainly couldn’t.
‘Hello, Ted, I heard the phone ring and thought you’d all be off.’
‘No, not yet. Did you know we’re getting our own mobile canteen supplied by the NAAFI?’
‘I didn’t, but I’m not surprised. It doesn’t make sense for Di and me, and the other two coming tomorrow, to have to hang around a lot of the time when we could be doing something more useful.’
Why were they talking about catering arrangements? Did he have the courage to ask her out? She smiled and this seemed like a good sign. Then the telephone jangled loudly in the dispersal hut.
This time, the phone call was to scramble. He raced for his chute, slung it over his shoulder and was climbing into his Hurry in less than a minute. Pre-flight checks were ignored, getting into the air as fast as possible was more important.
His ground crew fastened his harness and pulled the cockpit cover closed. The engine roared and he taxied onto the runway. Moments later, he was airborne and listening to the voice in his helmet rapping out his orders.