Ted woke up with his head clear and feeling a bit of a fool. He rolled out of bed and flexed his left arm and the pain was almost non-existent. He wasn’t going to malinger here for more than a day – he was damn sure that if pilots could fly with tin legs or one arm then he could do his bit with a few stitches in his shoulder.
Joe had folded his uniform neatly and put it on the chair – fortunately the boy hadn’t unpacked his kitbag. Ted dressed rapidly and headed downstairs. What he needed was a square meal and then he’d be ready to return to the base. He’d stay here overnight – but no longer than that.
He made his way to the kitchen – this was easy to find, as he just had this follow his nose. He checked his watch and saw that it was three o’clock – a bit of a no man’s land when it came to mealtimes.
He pushed open the door but didn’t go in immediately. The boy, Joe, was enveloped in a wraparound apron far too big for him and busy at the cooker. He looked as though he knew what he was doing.
‘Excuse me, Joe, I’m rather hoping there might be something substantial for me to eat.’
Joe dropped the ladle with a clatter and turned round. ‘I didn’t know you were there, sir. I thought you were fast asleep in bed, recovering, but you look perfectly fine to me.’ He grinned and waved at the table. ‘Sit yourself down, you can have some of this stew. I reckon it’s tasty if I say so myself.’
‘The place seems very quiet – where is everybody?’
‘They’ve gone to Ramsgate to help the poor buggers coming off the boats. The other Lady Harcourt is in the drawing room. I’ve got to take her tea and biscuits in a minute.’
This news made Ted even more determined to return to the base and insist that he was well enough to fly. He devoured everything put in front of him, had no idea what it was, but it was all delicious and far better than the dire hospital food.
‘Thank you, Joe, I’m a new man. Shall I take the tea to the drawing room for you?’
‘Yes, that would be a great help. I like the old bird but she wants to talk and holds me up something rotten.’
Ted picked up the tray but didn’t move for a few moments until he was sure his shoulder wasn’t going to give out under the weight. As he was leaving the kitchen, the boy called after him.
‘I reckon you’ll be back with your mates tomorrow. You don’t look like no invalid like what you did when you arrived a few hours ago.’
‘Thank you again for your admirable assistance, Joe.’ Ted carried the tray with no difficulty through the house but was faced with a problem when he got to the closed doors. He didn’t think it would be safe for him to balance the tray in order to open them. He did what any sensible chap would do.
‘Excuse me, my lady, I have your tea here, but I can’t open the door because of my injury.’
His words were answered by the puppy barking and then he heard light footsteps approaching and the double doors were opened. He looked down on a slender, elegant, grey-haired woman, every inch an aristocrat.
‘Come in, young man. I thought you were at death’s door in your bed, but I’m delighted to see that you’re not. Can you manage to transport it to that octagonal table over there?’
‘I certainly can. I’ve just had the most delicious stew – rabbit, I think – so you’re in for a treat tonight.’ He put the tray down and stepped back, not sure if he should remain or beat a hasty retreat.
‘Sit down, Flying Officer Thorrington, and allow me to pour you a cup of tea. I see that Joe has put on an extra cup for you. He’s a fine young man and provided me with a bowl of excellent soup and a tasty sandwich for luncheon. My daughter-in-law was so fortunate to find Joe and Liza and bring them here to live with us at Goodwill House.’
Ted spent a pleasant hour talking to her and hearing about her adventures driving through France and catching what was probably one of the last ferries to leave from Calais unhindered by German patrols.
‘Forgive me, my lady, I’m going to have a brisk walk about the place. I need to be sure that I can convince my CO to allow me back on duty tomorrow. Wouldn’t do to be fainting all over the shop like I did earlier.’
When he returned, the Hillman was parked outside. He increased his pace and bounded up the stairs, knowing that Millie had probably returned to check on him and wouldn’t be impressed by the fact that he was gallivanting about the countryside.
She was in with the elderly Lady Harcourt so presumably already knew where he had been, which made things easier. ‘Why have you got hay in your hair, Millie?’
Lady Harcourt smiled at him. ‘I didn’t like to enquire, young man, but I’m glad that you asked, as I too am curious.’
The explanation regarding the evacuated soldiers from Dunkirk shocked them both and it gave him the opportunity to explain his plans for the morning. ‘I’m fit enough to fly. I’m hoping I can cadge a lift with you tomorrow and then persuade the medic to allow me back in my kite.’
‘You were told to rest up for two weeks and it will only be two days – not even that, really,’ Millie said. ‘But, in the circumstances, I don’t blame you for wanting to be back with your squadron. I’m going to help Joe in the kitchen – the others will be back in an hour, expecting a hot meal.’
‘He fed me at lunchtime – rabbit stew, I think – and it was delicious. He’s a very competent young man.’
Ted was happy to eat the same meal again that evening with Millie and the old woman in the breakfast parlour. The WAAFs ate in the dining room but tonight they mucked in and served themselves and then did the washing-up. It wasn’t until it was almost dark that the younger Lady Harcourt and the girl, Liza, finally returned.
Joanna looked exhausted but still remained her charming self. He was extra to requirements so retreated to his bedroom with a book. He was stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, when Millie knocked on his door.
‘Di got back a little while ago. I thought I’d better tell you there have been several losses – men who haven’t returned. I’m sure you’ll have little difficulty persuading them to pass you as fit tomorrow morning.’ Her expression was sad as she spoke and he had no desire to smile either.
‘Didn’t you tell me that Lord Harcourt is trapped on the beach with his regiment? I wonder if there’s been any news about him?’
‘If there has, Joanna hasn’t shared it with us. I went to collect my friend when she finished and was allowed to bring the Hillman back so I can give you a lift at dawn tomorrow.’ She looked at his kitbag. ‘I see you haven’t unpacked. Have you tried putting that on your shoulder?’
‘I haven’t – I thought I’d leave it until tomorrow. Give myself a few more hours to recover. If I can’t carry it then I’ll accept I’m not ready to fly – but I can still do admin.’
Millie flopped onto one of the two armchairs that flanked the unlit fire and he joined her in the one opposite.
‘It’s been an absolutely horrible day. I don’t think I realised just how bad things would be when I volunteered. Naïve and silly, I know, but it all seemed a bit of a lark. I only opted for being a driver to annoy my parents, who were horrified. They’re both terrible snobs.’
‘You’re doing a valuable job – just as important as being somewhere hush-hush. I think we’ve all been a bit complacent these past nine months as nothing much has happened. It’s going to be grim from now on – I hope all the children have been evacuated from the village as it’s likely to get bombed once it starts.’
‘They haven’t. I think some went last year but they all came back, and as far as I know, the school’s still running as normal. I don’t go anywhere without my tin hat – do you think I’m going to need my gas mask as well?’
‘The Germans certainly used gas in the last war but whether they’ll do the same this time, I’ve no idea. You do realise that with the BEF defeated, France overrun, Hitler will be preparing to invade?’
It seemed odd to be talking about these things with a girl and especially one he didn’t know very well and who was in his bedroom. This was not somewhere she should be, even though they were both fully clothed.
‘Being the closest coast to France, this is where they’ll land, isn’t it? The government has set up something called the Local Defence Volunteers – it’s made up of boys too young to enlist, those exempt and those too old. I don’t think they’d stop Hitler for long.’
‘I’m sure they wouldn’t – but over the next few days, hopefully, half the army will be back and they can fight for us. However, the loss of equipment as well as manpower is going to take some replacing.’
‘What a depressing conversation, Ted, and I only came here to tell you that I can give you a lift tomorrow. I’m going to make myself some cocoa – would you like a mug?’
‘I’ll come down with you. I don’t like being waited on.’
The following morning, Ted reported to the adjutant, demonstrated the flexibility of his injured shoulder and waited for his comment.
‘If I sent you to the medic, he’d probably refuse to sign you off, so I’m going to do so myself. We lost three kites and six men yesterday. If you think you’re fit enough to fly, then you’ve got my permission.’
Ted saluted and this time received a crisp salute in response. He dashed to his room, chucked his kitbag in the corner and just made it in time to scramble into the back of the lorry. If he’d expected to be greeted with enthusiasm, he would have been disappointed.
For the next few days, Ted, like all the other bods, slept in his flying gear on the ground or, if he was lucky, in a deckchair. Not only were they flying daylight sorties, but they were also doing night patrols.
He’d never forget the pitiful sight of the soldiers cowering on the beaches, plumes of sand and smoke rising into the air where bombs and machine-gun fire pounded down on them. God knows how many were being killed, how many would be captured, but from the amount of shipping buzzing about in the Channel, far more were being rescued than had been thought possible.
The base was constantly busy. Squadrons of Spitfires, Hurricanes and Blenheims did their best to protect those waiting to be evacuated. Their job was to intercept the bombers and fighters before they reached the beaches and he saw far too many of his fellow flyers shot down.
He was to learn later that two of those he saw prang managed to return courtesy of the navy on a paddle steamer, the Royal Eagle. Others weren’t so lucky. On 4 June, Operation Dynamo was over.
The Prime Minister, Winston Churchill, gave a rousing speech, thanking the small boats and the Royal Navy for doing such sterling work and also praising the RAF for their assistance. He made it clear that although they had much to celebrate, as more than 350,000 men had been safely evacuated, an evacuation wasn’t a victory.
Joanna, the WI and the WVS continued to help at Ramsgate until the very last soldier landed and had been taken care of. They were all exhausted but satisfied they’d done their duty and that if their loved ones had arrived safely anywhere else along this coast, other cohorts of ladies would have looked after them as they’d looked after these poor men.
Ted was back with his squadron and flying sortie after sortie without complaint, according to Millie. Joanna hoped those flying from Manston would have time to recover before Hitler began his invasion.
Whatever Churchill might say to the contrary, the British Army had been defeated and they were in no fit state to protect the country – the navy and RAF would have to do what they could.
There was a feeling of apprehension, dread, pervading the village as the women waited for news of their menfolk. So far, nobody had heard anything, either good or bad. Joanna thought that it might take days to process everyone who’d returned and for the men themselves to contact their loved ones or for the War Office to contact the relatives.
It had been reported in the newspaper that Winston Churchill himself had said in his speech to Parliament, ‘We must be very careful not to assign this deliverance the attributes of a victory. Wars are not won by evacuations.’ He also said a lot about France and Belgium falling but that whatever happened, Britain and the Commonwealth would fight on. ‘We shall fight in France, we shall fight in the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air; we shall defend our Island whatever the cost may be. We shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender.’
On Tuesday night, 4 June, Joanna sat in the drawing room with her mother-in-law and they discussed this speech and what it meant to them.
‘I think because we have more than half the British Army back safely, even if we’ve lost the tanks and the equipment, Hitler will think twice about invading,’ her mother-in-law said firmly.
‘I pray that you’re right. However, I doubt that many of the men I saw over the past few days are in any state to fight – it’s going to take them a while to recover and for the government to replace the guns, tanks and so on.’
They were both avoiding the fact that they’d heard nothing from David. Joanna decided to be the one to mention it. ‘Do you think David was one of the lucky ones?’
‘No, my dear, I don’t. If he’d been returned alive to these shores, he would be here with us now. He’s either dead or a prisoner of war and we must just wait until we hear which of those it is.’
‘There were at least a dozen women waiting for news and none of them has heard either. Surely at least one of them must have landed safely, so why aren’t they home?’
‘I don’t know. I believe you will receive a telegram soon. It will say either that David is missing in action or that he is dead. You realise, don’t you, my dear, that it might be weeks before we know anything for certain?’ Mother-in-law seemed unbothered at the prospect of her only child possibly being dead.
Joanna’s eyes filled. David had done his best and wasn’t a bad man. She prayed he was unharmed and would be able to return home one day.
‘I do. We’ve been managing perfectly well without him for the past nine months and can continue to do so. I need to tell you that I think he has taken out several loans against the house and my biggest fear is that if he’s… if he’s dead then the bank will foreclose.
‘There’s also the matter of death duties. They are crippling and I believe I heard somebody say they’ve just been raised from 50 per cent to 60 per cent – we could be destitute and homeless as we certainly can’t pay off the bank and what will be owed on the estate.’
Joanna didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to talk about it. ‘I’m going to make cocoa and eat the last of the cake. I think we both deserve a treat, don’t you?’
The old lady laughed. ‘You certainly do, my dear, as you’ve been doing sterling work these past few days. All I’ve had to do is eat endless bowls of rabbit stew and I hardly think that counts.’
Nobody at Goodwill House had complained about the food, despite the fact Joe had been in charge. They were all heartily sick of rabbit stew after having it every day for five days but at least it was well cooked and tasty.
‘Things will be back to normal tomorrow. Betty and Liza will be in the kitchen and Joe can return to his outside duties. They were talking on the bus tonight about evacuating the children. I think the entire school might be moving to Devon – I think now’s the time for them to go. Even if Hitler doesn’t invade, the Luftwaffe will start bombing us soon.’
Two days later, Joe found her busy writing up the logbook for the WVS in the study.
‘This just came, my lady, I’m ever so sorry to be bringing you such bad news.’
She took the proffered, black-edged telegram, nodded her thanks and stared at it. After several deep breaths, she was ready to open it. The words danced in front of her eyes, and for a moment she couldn’t quite comprehend what she was reading.
David was dead – not missing – not taken prisoner – but quite definitely and unequivocally deceased. The telegram said a letter would be following with details of his demise.
The worst had happened. There were things she had to do but she couldn’t remember what they were. Should she be crying? Her husband was dead. She was a war widow. None of it made sense.