That evening we decided to celebrate Bronwyn being found innocent by going to the dance in town. We could get in half price if we wore uniform, so we made sure we were extra smart as we got ready.
‘Do you think it’s okay for me to go to a dance when I’m engaged to Edward?’ I asked Mavis.
Her jaw dropped. ‘Why ever not? You’re not going to find yourself another man and go up against a wall with him, are you.’
I frowned. ‘What do you mean, go up against a wall?’
‘Oh, come on, I know you’re an innocent but you must know.’ She raised an eyebrow.
I shook my head.
She gave a little laugh. ‘It means doing it. You know, doing it.’
‘Oh, I never…’ I wished I’d never asked.
‘What? You never done it? Round our way, if you ain’t done it by the time you’re sixteen you start to wonder if there’s something wrong with you. Your Edward never tried it on?’
I shook my head silently, I’d never had such intimate conversations with anyone before and felt awkward and silly. Making an excuse, I picked up my things and left the latrines, wondering if there was something wrong with me that Edward hadn’t pushed for us to go all the way.
Mavis and me were friends again as soon as we got back to the others, and set off to the dance in high spirits.
It was a freezing evening. Stars freckled the sky, and tree branches looked like giant’s arms against the dark navy sky – mysterious, powerful. We heard owls, and squirrels scurrying along the grass and up trees. The smell of winter, damp and heavy, surrounded us. The dance hall was packed, mostly with men and women in uniform, all taking advantage of half-price entry. Some sat quietly drinking, others stood flirting but most were dancing like they might be dead soon.
Perhaps some would.
‘Let’s have port and lemons,’ Amanda said when we’d taken off our coats, ‘or gin and tonic. My parents have that every night before dinner.’
I’d only ever drunk cider or stout but decided to try the port and lemon. At first I didn’t think I liked it, but after the third sip I changed my mind and looked forward to the next one immediately. So I had a second, and a third, just to keep up with the others. After three, Mavis was the only one not a bit tipsy. ‘You lot woozy on three port and lemons? You need more practice.’ She laughed. ‘Come on, let’s dance.’
As she spoke a soldier came up and asked her to dance with him. They were soon doing the Lindy Hop.
‘I don’t know how she can be tossed around like that after all that alcohol and not throw up,’ I said.
The rest of us sat nursing our fourth port and lemon, watching her a bit enviously. After three dances, she vanished from sight. The room was crowded and we weren’t worried. ‘They’ve probably gone outside for some fresh air,’ Amanda said. ‘I don’t think I’m going to have any more port and lemon. Just lemonade for me from now on. Mummy always used to say that it’s easy to make silly decisions when you’re a bit tipsy.’
I nodded, half listening, then remembered what Mavis said about being up against a wall, but didn’t say anything, telling myself I had an overactive imagination. Fifteen minutes later she was back holding another port and lemon, and wearing a smug smile, her hair slightly untidy.
‘Where’d you get to?’ Bronwyn asked.
Mavis tapped the side of her nose. ‘That’s for me to know,’ she said with a laugh.
By the end of the evening we’d all been asked to dance several times, although I made sure not to do the slow, smoochy numbers with anyone; that would have felt disloyal to Edward.
We staggered back from the dance singing ‘South of the Border’ and ‘Somewhere in France With You’ at the top of our voices. A couple of times, when the path was wide enough, we linked arms and stepped out together like the characters from The Wizard of Oz. ‘I wonder where the Yellow Brick Road will lead us,’ Bronwyn said.
‘Paris!’ I shouted, my voice a bit slurred.
‘Let’s hope so,’ Mavis said with a giggle, ‘I’ve always wanted to go out with a French man – such a sexy accent.’
I’d never had a hangover before and woke up next morning with my head full of storm clouds that swirled around my skull making me feel sick. My mouth was so dry I had to prise my lips apart and my stomach gurgled loudly. I wasn’t even sure I could stand up straight, and when I tried, the room moved as if I were on a ship. It took me a minute to realise I wasn’t ill, it was all down to those port and lemons. Bronwyn was struggling to sit upright in her bed next to mine. Her hair was all over the place and she had dark rings round her eyes. ‘You look dreadful,’ she mumbled, then held her head in her hands. ‘Oh, my head. Did we really drink six port and lemons?’
But we knew the ATS wouldn’t let us off a day’s training for a hangover. ‘Come on, get up. If they realise we’ve got a hangover, they’ll probably put us on latrine duty,’ I said, clutching on to the bedhead for support. The smell of breakfast made my stomach turn and for the first time, I was grateful it wasn’t egg and bacon.
‘I wonder if we’ll ever get to France,’ I said as I ate my porridge more slowly than I’d ever eaten it before.
‘Well, you and Mavis haven’t done bad learning French. Wouldn’t call you fluent yet, though,’ Bronwyn said.
‘Vous apprenez vite,’ Amanda said.
I smiled, pleased with myself that I understood. ‘Oui, merci,’ I quipped, ‘you two are good teachers.’
We washed our eating irons and headed out for yet more square-bashing; this time along the road from the camp. After five minutes I was relieved to find the rhythm and the cool air cleared my head. By now we were a disciplined group, and even my feet did what they were supposed to do. The marching kept the worst of the cold at bay and we sang as we walked, ‘Deep in the heart of Texas’ and ‘Kiss Me Goodnight, Sergeant-Major’. Marching, which we’d hated so much when we first joined up, lifted our spirits that day. And better was to come.
We just returned to the camp when word went round that our postings were on the board outside the office. We’d all put down to be telephonists, but the odds on us staying together were slight even if we got our wish. What if I got an awful posting doing something I hated, somewhere I didn’t want to go?
There was a real crowd around the board where postings were listed, girls were groaning or jumping with delight. It took a few minutes to find our names.
When I saw mine, my heart skipped a beat. ‘I’ve got it, telephonist!’ I joined the girls who were jumping up and down, a silly grin on my face – jubilant, overjoyed.
The others smiled and nudged me out of the way so they could see their new roles.
‘Me, too,’ said Amanda, twirling me round, our hats flying off onto the damp ground.
‘And me!’ That was Bronwyn.
Mavis’s face fell. ‘Bugger! I’m going to be an orderly. I want to be a telephonist! I want to go to Paris!’ she said, her shoulder sagging as if they supported the weight of the world. ‘Oh well, might be worse, I suppose. Might’ve been a cook, then no one would have liked their food ever again. I’ll miss you lot though.’
‘But we won’t know where we’re posted for a few more days, Mavis,’ I said, ‘you might end up with one of us. Let’s all pray tonight that we get to stay together.’
I wrote to Edward that night to tell him my good news. I hadn’t heard from him for a week and worried that something had happened to him, although everyone kept saying it was just the post being in a muddle.
I read and reread his last letter until it was ready to fall apart.
Dearest Lily,
Every time I get a letter from you, my heart gives a happy leap. I’m very sorry that I haven’t written as often as you. Sometimes our work here makes it impossible or I would have done so. I wish I could tell you about it, but you will understand how that is impossible.
I miss you so much, my love, and hope that soon our war work will throw us near each other so we can meet. My next posting is a matter of conjecture, I’m afraid, and I’m guessing that you don’t know where you’ll be posted yet. Have they told you yet what sort of work you’ll be doing? I like the idea of telephonist work, it sounds warm and safe and I do so want you to be safe and well. Let’s hope they give you what you want and that your friends can go with you. I have made some good friends here, and when we get a bit of spare time we head to the pub and drown our sorrows.
Keep writing! I miss you. All my love,
Edward
I’d hoped he would be able to get leave for the weekend when my training finished, we’d spent so little time together since we met. I hadn’t thought he would get leave at the same time but that didn’t stop me feeling down about it. Even though it was just a few short weeks since I’d seen him, it seemed for ever. The other girls and me checked the board every day to see where we were going to be posted. Now that three of us knew we were going to be telephonists, Amanda and Bronwyn got me practising suitable phrases, like ‘How can I help you?’ in both French and English. Mavis still kept up the lessons too, just in case she got a transfer later. We practised and practised and I managed to get a French language book out of the library and I often studied it for a few minutes after I’d written letters home, or to Edward.
Then the big day came. ‘Postings are up!’ went the word. We hurried back to the noticeboard outside the office. We couldn’t believe our luck, all four of us were being sent to Kensington Training Centre that was just being opened up. Mavis would be an orderly there and the rest of us would learn how to use the switchboards that appeared impossibly complicated from the photos we’d seen. We could not have known the problems that would overcome us there.
* * *
I always said my mum was a mind-reader when it came to me and my movements. The kettle was on and the fire was blazing when I walked through the door, kitbag on my back. She put down the old brown teapot and rushed to give me a hug.
‘Lily,’ she said, a tear in her eye, ‘I’ve missed you so much. Let me look at you.’ She stood back. ‘You’ve lost weight. Didn’t they feed you in that camp?’
I put my bag down and took off my coat, ‘They did, Mum, but it wasn’t up to your standard. It’s the square-bashing that’s taken off the pounds. It’s boring but it makes you fit, I’ve never felt stronger.’
She hung up my coat and came back into the kitchen.
‘Well, come and take the load off your feet and get warm by the fire. Tea’s almost ready and there’s crumpets to toast.’
We sat down on the brown pretend velvet suite she’d bought, against my dad’s wishes, when we first moved to the corporation house from the grotty old slum we’d lived in before. ‘Still no word from Dad?’ I asked, sitting down in his favourite spot. How good that felt. He’d have been furious if he’d seen me, but now he was banished; a loathsome memory drifting into the past, impotent to wield his vicious power.
She put the tray down, stabbed a crumpet with the long toasting fork and held it in front of the fire. ‘No, thank goodness, not a word from him. I hear about him from time to time though. He’s still with his fancy woman. Good luck to her, I say, she did me a favour.’
I poured the tea and noticed she’d got the best china out. ‘You have to feel sorry for her though. I wonder how long it’ll be before he lets his true nature show through. I don’t believe he can keep pretending to be nice for long.’
She turned the crumpet over, blowing on her fingers. ‘You’re not wrong there, Lily. This’ll be ready in a minute. Pass your plate. Did you enjoy the training camp? What was it like?’
I passed her tea and a plate. ‘The mattresses were made of straw, I’m surprised I’m not two inches shorter from all the square-bashing we did, and we never got a minute to ourselves. But, I did enjoy it, that’s what’s so weird. I met a lot of new people and learned a lot of interesting stuff.’
She passed me the crumpet. ‘Go easy with the marge, love. Not so easy to get now. I’m thinking of having chickens in the garden. Not much room there, but needs must. I’ll plant some tomatoes and runner beans come spring, too.’
She sat back and took a bite of her crumpet, closing her eyes briefly as she savoured the taste. ‘Mmm, that’s good.’ She wiped a drip of marge off her chin. ‘You know, you going to London and then who-knows-where, doing all this new stuff is really good. No one wants war, but it does give women a chance to do different things, doesn’t it? Your life will never be the same and a good thing too. Women my age never expected anything but marriage and kids.’
‘But your life’s better now Dad’s gone, isn’t it?’ I asked, ‘And you’ve got your new bloke, too.’
She gave a big smile. ‘Alex, yes, he’s very kind. I hope you’ll like him. If you’ve got time, I said we’d meet him at Woolworths café for a cuppa this afternoon.’
I took a sip of my tea, so much better than the awful stuff at camp. ‘’Course I will. I’d like to nip and see Jean first though. She’s only home for today. Lucky we overlap for a few hours.’
‘You must have missed her; you two working together at the shirt factory and the Dream Palace all that time.’
I thought about all the laughs Jean and me had. ‘You know I’ve told you in my letters about the three girls I’m friendly with? Mavis is a lot like Jean. She’s a good laugh and a bit too fond of the lads. Heart of gold though. Do you still like working at the Filling Factory?’
She picked up the tea-tray. ‘I like the girls I’m working with, but it’s dangerous work. You have to concentrate every minute. You can’t relax when you’re working with explosives. Still, it’s better than charring, and the money’s good.’
She headed towards the kitchen. ‘Off you go, then, and see Jean. I’ll have a sandwich and some soup ready when you come back, then we can go into town.’
* * *
Even though Jean was only home for the day, her mum had her looking after her little brother and sister. ‘Come on in,’ she said when I arrived, ‘let’s give these little buggers something to eat and drink, then we can bung ’em in the other room so we can chat.’
Like me, she’d lost weight, and the dark rings round her eyes from lack of sleep matched mine.
‘Come on, you two,’ she said to the kids, handing them the sandwiches and drinks, ‘have this and in the other room with you. You’ve got toys and stuff in there. Let me ’ave ten minutes to talk to Lil. No arguing!’
She wiped their faces and hands with a damp cloth and headed them out of the kitchen. They went off grumbling, their mouths full of jam sandwich.
Jean set about tidying up. ‘This place goes to pot if I’m not ’ere,’ she muttered. ‘’Elp me sort it, will ya, then we can sit down. Can’t bear to sit in all this clutter.’
I had to laugh. ‘Goodness, Jean, the nursing’s certainly changed you. I remember when your room was such a mess it was a struggle to get in the door.’
She pulled a face. ‘I suppose you’re right. Can’t have germs in the ’ospital so I suppose it sticks in your brain.’ She handed me a tea towel. ‘Can you dry that lot?’
‘Are you still enjoying nursing?’ I asked, drying a plate and putting it on the shelf.
She passed me another one. ‘Usually. It feels good to be doing something useful, but sometimes I go to my room at the end of my shift too tired to even clean my teeth.’
‘What about lads? Found yourself anyone special?’ I picked up the pile of plates and put them in the cupboard.
‘There’s dozens of lads but most of them are missing something: an arm, a leg, their sight, their brain…’
I turned to face her. ‘Oh, Jean, that’s so sad. Thank goodness they’ve got someone like you to help them.’
She turned back to the sink. ‘I flirt and joke with them, try to cheer ’em up even though I get in trouble over it from Sister. I reckon they deserve a bit of a laugh with what’s ’appened to them. And some of them will never be the same again, poor sods. Can you do these last plates? Then we’re done.’
‘Is it all soldiers then?’ I asked.
She started to wipe the table down. ‘We get a few local girls in the women’s ward. Some of ’em ’ave got diseases off the soldiers and don’t know until they’re really ill. Others come in ’cos they’ve tried to get rid of a baby. ’Orrible it is. I feel so sorry for ’em. Let’s talk about something more cheerful. We’re both going to be in London while you’re doing your training.’ She stood up and put the dishcloth over the taps, then dried her hands on her pinny. ‘Let’s fix up to meet when we’re both off duty. We can go to a dance or the flicks or something.’
‘Let’s hope our shifts work out right. Jean, can I talk to you about something? I’m a bit worried ’cos I haven’t heard from Edward for two weeks. D’you think anything’s happened to him?’
She hung the tea towel over the mangle. ‘You’d ’ave ’eard, wouldn’t you? Surely his mum would tell you even if you’re not next of kin yet.’
‘That’s it – I’m not sure she would. She never approved of me – not her sort of person at all. And now I’m in the ATS, she probably thinks I’m on the game or an officer’s groundsheet like they say in the papers.’ She leaned against the sink and folded her arms.
‘Why don’t you go round and ask ’er, then?’
My stomach clenched. ‘Oh no, I couldn’t, it was bad enough meeting her with Edward. I went round once and you wouldn’t believe how off she was with me.’
Jean leaned over and squeezed my hand. ‘Write ’er a letter then, if you don’t ’ear in a few days. But odds are Edward’s letter is just in the post, you know what it’s like.’
When I left an hour later, I felt blessed to have such a good friend, and grateful for the new friends in the ATS. But I was still worried about Edward.