Millie and the other three WAAF drivers had been busy all day, taking items from the transport kite that had arrived that morning. Not only were there spare parts for the aircraft themselves which went to the hangers for the ground crew to sort, but also things for the motor pool and thirty of the hideous metal bedsteads for them to use.
She and Di were carrying in the last of these to the large, sparse hut that they would be using. ‘There’s only the one cast-iron stove to heat this entire place. It’s going to be absolutely freezing in the winter,’ her friend said gloomily.
‘And don’t forget we’ll only have the three biscuits, two horrible, rough blankets and those cardboard sheets to sleep on them with.’
Millie looked around at the beds propped up against the walls. ‘They still need to bring the lockers and the ablutions aren’t finished. I think everything else is done. When do you think we’ll actually move?’
‘One of the chaps told me the sewer pipe hasn’t been connected to the main drain properly so it’s got to be laid again – I doubt that will be done for a week or two. What a very depressing place this is – let’s hope when we’re all in here, it will seem jollier.’ Then Di’s expression changed. ‘You’re an NCO, so won’t sleep with us – you lucky thing. I’m going to see if I can get another promotion as soon as possible. What act of heroism can I perform to bring me to the attention of the CO?’
‘They won’t send us another twenty or so girls without a queen bee and at least two senior NCOs, so I might well be in with you all. That was the last of the beds and I just heard the Anson taking off. Shall we have a surreptitious nose around the buildings and see exactly what’s finished and what isn’t and just how awful it is going to be after the luxury of Goodwill House?’
Ruby and Cora, as always, had sloped off for a quick cigarette so there was no one to witness their probably highly improper and illegal exploration.
The area they would be sleeping in didn’t open directly to the elements, which was fortunate, but had a wall which separated it from an open area where there were two rows of metal pegs. Presumably, these were for greatcoats and the groundsheets that were also used as protection from the rain.
‘There should be another stove in here – that will make it a lot more pleasant and will certainly dry our outer garments. Without it they’re likely to freeze solid overnight if we hang them up damp,’ Di said.
‘I wonder if they’ll put in an office, somewhere with a telephone – it would make sense,’ Millie replied as she led the way out. There were no keys supplied, so she left the door unlocked. She wasn’t worried about anyone wanting to steal the beds – who in their right mind would want to sleep on one of those?
‘There’s no sign of anyone working on the faulty pipes – the longer they take to do it, the better. Shall we have a quick squiz in the ablutions block anyway?’ Di suggested, but didn’t wait for her agreement and headed across to the brick-built buildings.
Again, the doors weren’t locked, and Millie followed her in. ‘Good grief! I thought as these have been purpose-built for us that they might be better than the previous ones.’
‘It’s a good thing we’re used to a lack of privacy. The three baths only have a flimsy curtain between them and nothing at the end so anyone walking past will see the person in the bath.’
Millie pointed to the three shower cubicles. ‘I’ll be all right using them but you’re taller than me and will have to crouch down if you don’t want your bosom to be visible. I shudder to think what the actual WCs are like.’
There were six of these and thankfully they all had a door. Facing them was a row of six sinks, each with a small mirror over the top.
‘These are all right, and at least it’s not one loo between thirty girls like it was at the last place. Let’s inspect the mess, recreation room and admin rooms before we go back to the motor pool and see what else we’ve got to do.’
Di was a little more circumspect approaching these buildings, as they were completely finished and they would be put on a charge for going in without permission.
‘Shall we try the back of the building first? The front door’s bound to be locked as this block is finished and fully furnished.’
All the doors were locked but they were able to peer into various windows and were much happier with what they saw. Millie, however, was relieved to scramble back into the cab of the lorry without having been seen.
‘Not exactly luxurious, but adequate. I think they might well be hoping to have far more girls than thirty eventually. It wouldn’t take them long to erect another Nissen hut and I thought the recreation room and so on was far larger than necessary for the number of girls that are going to be here,’ Di said firmly.
‘I don’t know – this is going to be a very dangerous place very soon and the bigwigs won’t want the men distracted by worrying about us getting bombed.’
Millie was ambivalent about the move. On one hand, they would be where they were supposed to be, and she’d be closer to Ted. On the other, it was really comfortable and informal at Goodwill House. There were so many rules and regulations to follow on base and it was she who would, initially, have to enforce them.
‘Then it’s a good thing, Millie, that we don’t have to make these decisions. Will you be pleased when you have someone of higher rank than you to keep order?’
‘Surprisingly, I rather enjoyed being in charge. If ever they give me the opportunity, then I’ll definitely apply to be an officer. What do you think about being promoted?’
‘As I’ve already told you, I’m going to do everything I can to get raised from the ranks. I don’t think they have officer training for us as yet, but I’m sure as the war continues they’ll have to do something about it.’
‘Have you got the key to the gate from Ruby, Di? You’re going to need it when you finish your shift tonight.’
‘She actually gave it to me without me having to ask, which is a first. Look, the NAAFI van is outside our headquarters. Let’s get tea and a wad before you finish.’ Di grinned. ‘Wonder why a bun or sandwich is called a wad.’
‘Haven’t a clue.’
Millie reversed the lorry so it would be easier to drive off when she went to collect the other girls to take them home at six o’clock. She was pretty sure that if she’d been working as a special duties clerk then she’d have to work much longer hours and would probably get no time off at all.
The girls who had opted for that route had had to sign the Official Secrets Act so weren’t allowed to tell any of their peers exactly what they would be doing. She was certain it was something to do with directing the fighters and bombers in some way.
Tonight, Di was working with Cora – this was unusual as normally she and her friend worked together and Cora and Ruby did the same. The rotas weren’t done by her, but by the adjutant, and she wouldn’t dream of questioning his decisions.
They’d been lucky so far and had been allowed to keep the lorry parked outside Goodwill House most nights. Sarge had warned her that this was likely to stop fairly soon as the lorry would be needed for other duties – he didn’t specify what and she didn’t like to ask. From his grim expression, she thought it might be to do with fatalities and having to transport them to the morgue. This wasn’t a duty she wanted but would just have to do if needed.
Joanna clenched her fists under the table but managed to keep, she hoped, her expression bland as she waited for this irritating man to tell them just how bad things were.
‘On the matter of death duties, my ladies, you might not be aware, but a serving soldier is not liable to pay them if he dies fighting for his country.’
For a moment, the words didn’t register, then a wave of relief flooded over Joanna. ‘No death duties? None at all? That’s absolutely the best news.’ She turned to her mother-in-law. ‘That means we don’t have to sell the estate—’
‘Lady Harcourt, I’m afraid you’ve rather jumped the gun. If you would kindly allow me to finish?’
She bit her lip and her cheeks flushed in annoyance. ‘I apologise, please go ahead.’
‘There are no death duties, but the bank owns two thirds of the estate. I’ve spoken to the bank manager and they want the debt fully repaid within the next three months or they will foreclose.’
From elation to despair in the space of a few minutes. Joanna swallowed the lump in her throat and didn’t dare look at her mother-in-law. This was what she’d dreaded hearing. Somehow, she gathered herself and asked what she hoped was a sensible question.
‘What possible reason would they have for doing that? Surely if I can continue to pay the mortgage each month, it doesn’t make sense for them to foreclose?’
He smiled in a very condescending manner. ‘Lady Harcourt, I’m sure you understand that things are quite different without Lord Harcourt being in charge of the estate. The bank would never agree to allow a lady to be indebted for so much money. They owe it to their shareholders to recover what they can of the amount owing.’
She was tempted to throw the contents of her cup in his face but wisely refrained. Dignity was called for in the face of his patronising and unpleasant manner. She was trying to think of something cutting to reply when the other Lady Harcourt spoke.
‘This meeting is over, sir. You may go now, and I can assure you that my daughter-in-law and I will not be using your firm again.’
The man opened and closed his mouth like a floundering fish and was obviously about to argue when the woman, who, up until this point she’d not really liked, administered the coup de grace.
She waved her hand at him in a dismissive gesture. ‘Take yourself away, man, your services are not required here.’ Still he didn’t move. ‘My dear, would you ring the bell and summon the outside men to remove this unpleasant person from the house?’
Joanna had never seen papers returned to a briefcase so fast. Mr Culley was on his feet and running towards the door before she had time to move. They heard him thumping down the passageway and, moments later, the front door opened and slammed shut behind him.
Some impulse made her turn and hug her mother-in-law. ‘That was absolutely magnificent – it might not have been the wisest move, but it was the perfect one.’
She was hugged back, which surprised her. ‘My dear, I’d be so grateful if you would call me Elizabeth instead of “mother-in-law” all the time. I do hope that we’re becoming friends now.’
‘Elizabeth it will be in future. I should really have asked what your given name is but, to be honest, I never thought I’d be in a position to be using it.’
‘I don’t suppose there’s any of David’s whisky in the cellar? I think we could both do with a stiff drink after that.’
‘I’m certain there is – I’ll ask Betty to make us a jug of coffee and bring it to the drawing room. I’ll join you there in a few minutes. We’ve got a great deal to talk about, I think.’
By the time she’d located one of the last three bottles of spirits and brought it up from the cellar, Liza was taking in the coffee tray. Betty smiled as the girl hurried off.
‘That man went out as if his coat was on fire, my lady, most enjoyable to watch.’
‘It was, but I’m not sure it’s going to make any difference in the long run. Whatever happens, it was invigorating to rout that unpleasant solicitor.’
Elizabeth had collected crystal whisky tumblers and had them waiting on the coffee table between the two chairs they often sat on. How much longer would they be able to enjoy the luxury and space of this splendid drawing room?
‘Excellent, my dear, I knew you’d find what we needed. We can raise a glass to David whilst we discuss our next moves.’
For some reason, her companion seemed unbothered by the impending catastrophe and was remarkably cheerful. Joanna poured them both a generous measure of the expensive amber liquid and placed it on the table. The coffee had already been poured into delicate porcelain cups and there were several slices of Victoria sandwich with homemade conserve – obviously made for the occasion.
With sugar so scarce, she didn’t know how they were going to manage for jam and so on next year as there certainly wasn’t enough in the shops for Betty to make what she usually did.
‘How are we going to move from that solicitor? Is it even possible?’
‘Money talks, and so does our name. I’m sure we shall have no difficulty finding another firm to act for us. There must be several in Ramsgate – newer firms – ones not as entrenched in the old ways.’
Joanna couldn’t bear the suspense a moment longer. ‘Elizabeth, what is it that you know that I don’t that’s making you positively bubble with glee?’
‘I believe I might have enough money in my trust fund to clear the debt. My family were incredibly wealthy, which was why David’s father married me. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t touch the principal of it, and that was one of the reasons he turned against me.’
‘I’d no idea – but then, why would I? David only mentioned your name once and that was to tell me that you’d refused to come to our wedding.’
‘How else do you think I could afford to live a life of luxury in the south of France? Did you really think that David’s father funded it?’
‘To be honest, Elizabeth, I never thought about it at all. I was an obedient and meek little wife. David treated both Sarah and I like precious items in his collection – too delicate to make decisions for ourselves.’
‘Unfortunately, in order to access the funds, I’ll have to go in person to London. I’ve banked at Coutts in Park Lane since it opened in 1921. Will you come with me? Perhaps you’d be good enough to ring the branch and tell them we’ll be coming.’
Joanna was stunned by this revelation. She should have realised Elizabeth was wealthy, as how else could she have afforded a Rolls-Royce and employed a full-time chauffeur and maid?
‘Let’s finish the coffee, cake and whisky and then I’ll make that telephone call for you. What a treat! I’ve not visited Town for years. Shall we stay at the Savoy or do you prefer the Ritz? We once stayed at the Dorchester, but never stayed at Claridge’s – I believe all of them are open and all of them are excellent.’
Ted was now a respected and integral part of his flight. His exploits during Operation Dynamo when still officially on sick leave had been noted, so he’d been told, by the Wing Commander in charge of Manston.
Everyone was knackered, they knew things were going to get worse and that at any moment the Luftwaffe would start bombing raids in preparation for the expected invasion. The base seemed unnaturally quiet without the temporary squadrons which had now returned to their permanent homes elsewhere in Sector 11. He prayed that things would stay that way until after the dance on Saturday. It hardly seemed possible that four days ago, he’d been flying non-stop sorties over France and the Channel.
There was now a squadron of Spitfires permanently based with them and he’d been looking at them longingly. No harm in asking – so he approached Flight Lieutenant Frederick Hanover who was in charge.
‘I say, Freddie, I heard that two of your chaps are in the infirmary so wondered if I could come up with you when you do your patrol? I trained on Spits.’
‘Ted Thorrington? I’ve heard about you. Clear it with Jimmy and I’d be happy to oblige.’
‘I’ve already spoken to him and he’s okay for me to do what the hell I want as it’ll be on my own time. I’m officially on leave for the next two days – unless the balloon goes up, of course. I can’t leave the base, but I don’t think it counts if I’m with you.’
‘What about night flying?’
‘Totally confident, day or night.’
‘Righto – we’re patrolling the Channel tonight. Get some kip and be ready for transport at nine-thirty.’
Ted rather enjoyed using his instruments to fly and was good at it. He’d known personally two bods who’d died after misjudging their height and crashing into the deck.
On his return to his room, the door was shut, which was odd. He pushed open the door but remained in the passageway. Dickie was in bed, looking decidedly green about the gills. His friend turned his head and croaked. ‘Don’t come in, old boy, unless you want to catch whatever bloody thing I’ve got. There’re no empty beds in the infirmary so I’m confined to quarters here.’
‘Where the hell do I sleep? Anybody tell you that?’
Corporal Brown was approaching at speed down the passageway. ‘Sir, these rooms are being turned into a temporary wing of the hospital. Whatever it is the blokes have got, it’s spreading. Did you go in?’
‘I didn’t. Presumably arrangements have been made for those who are being displaced by the invalids?’
‘Sid has already removed your gear, sir, and you’re billeted with the new lot.’
This was excellent news as ‘the new lot’ Brown was referring to were those he was joining, at least, for the next couple of days.
Ted couldn’t see who he was sharing with, as the occupant of the other bed was asleep, the blackouts were drawn and the room was in complete darkness. He didn’t bother to undress, just removed his shoes, jacket and tie and stretched out.
Like all the other bods, he’d soon learnt to sleep when he could and during Operation Dynamo no one had done more than collapse in whatever chair was available whilst the ground crew refuelled and rearmed their kites. If all the chairs were occupied, then they propped themselves against the nearest wall.
Sid knocked on the door, switched on the central light and came in with a tray of tea. His roommate sat up, yawning. ‘Tea? I hope there’s a cup on there for me. I’m Chalky White – pilot officer – so you outrank me.’
Sid had left the tray and vanished. ‘My orderly’s first rate but this is the first time he’s brought me tea in bed. Shall I be mother?’
They drained the pot and devoured the biscuits before getting themselves tidy. Ted ran his hand over his chin and decided he didn’t need to shave. In fact, like a lot of the younger members of the various flights, he could probably get away with only shaving every couple of days.
‘How did you know I outrank you?’
‘Everybody knows who you are, Ted, you’re a bit of a legend. I know that Freddie will be desperate to keep you. On the QT, one of the blokes in the infirmary was in a blue funk most of the time – totally bloody useless – LMF – and he’ll be posted to some godforsaken base and will be cleaning their latrines for the duration.’
Ted had plenty to think about as he settled into his kite and did the pre-flight checks. These were abandoned when they scrambled but as this was a routine jaunt, he ran though the checklist. ‘Lacking moral fibre’ wasn’t something he’d ever be accused of, and he pitied the poor sod who was now labelled as LMF and would be posted away in disgrace.
The ground crew had to hang onto the tail of his Spit as the powerful Merlin engine roared into life. He taxied onto the strip, took off smoothly and the sheer pleasure of flying his favourite kite made him forget about the war and just enjoy the moment.