We were coming to the end of our training, when Miss Rounds called us together.
‘Girls,’ she said, ‘I have just put your next postings on the wall next door. You may go to see them now if you so wish.’
Every single one of us hurried to the door, then, just like at basic training, pushed each other out of the way trying to see what fate awaited us.
I scanned the list, reading and rereading it to make sure I hadn’t made a mistake. Then I turned to Amanda and Bronwyn, hardly able to speak. ‘Yes! We’re all going to Paris!’
‘All right for some,’ someone near me said, ‘I’m going to Doncaster.’
I gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I didn’t think I’d get in,’ I said, ‘my French is still nowhere near as good as Amanda and Bronwyn’s.’
Miss Rounds’ voice made me jump. ‘No, your French still leaves a lot to be desired, Volunteer Baker, and I have to tell you, you only got this posting because two of the girls there are ill and have had to be repatriated. You’re the next best thing.’
I didn’t mind at all being called the next best thing. We were going to Paris!
* * *
We stood gazing out at Dover from the side of the ship, jostling for space with all the soldiers going to France. The port was busy with sailors hurried here and there, kitbags on their shoulders; porters trundled boxes on to ships and women waved goodbye to their loved ones. The smell of the sea mixed with the smell of oil and greasy food. Voices shouted, whistled, sang. Heavy clouds loomed low, turning the scene a dull grey, then weighty raindrops began to fall.
Standing under cover out of the rain, Amanda, Bronwyn, Mavis and me waved as the boat started to slowly leave the dock. ‘I don’t know what we’re waving for,’ said Amanda, ‘after all, we don’t know anyone.’
‘Doesn’t matter, it’s just something you have to do,’ I said, grinning as the engines hummed. ‘I’m so glad you got to come with us Mavis,’ I said, squashed next to her.
‘Bit last minute, wasn’t it? An orderly again, but never mind, at least I’ll be in Paris with you lot.’
‘Do you know who you’ll be an orderly for?’ I asked.
‘I think it’s you lot and the army and BEF soldiers in the building. At least I’ll get to know everyone.’
‘You okay now?’ I asked. She knew what I meant. ‘Yeah, nothing to it. I’m fine.’ I could see her holding back a tear.
‘It’s going to be a rough trip,’ I heard someone near me say. My heart sank. I’d never been at sea before; the most I’d experienced was a pleasure trip on a river and I felt sure that wouldn’t prepare me for this.
‘Do you get seasick?’ I asked the others.
Amanda thought for a minute. ‘I’ve been across to France twice before, but the sea was always calm. I did feel a bit queasy once or twice though. What about you, Bronwyn?’
‘It’s like this see, my dad was a sailor, so surely I won’t be seasick. Mind you, I’ve heard some sailors are sick for the whole journey.’
I patted the sturdy rail. ‘This ship reminds me of the ones that lads sail on the pond near our house.’ It was pointed at both ends with one funnel and two masts.
Mavis nodded. ‘Someone told me this used to be a post office ship, but now it’s military so they painted it grey.’
The rain got heavier, and squally winds blew the water into our shelter, driving us inside.
Within minutes the sea swell got worse and we had to sit to avoid falling over. Angry waves threw themselves at the side of the boat – water beating against the windows as if it was trying to break the glass and get in. The ship groaned and creaked like it was ready to fall apart any minute. The sky darkened; the gloom torn apart by flashes of lightning every few minutes. Sailors struggled to move around the deck, clutching onto anything lashed down. The deck awash with foam like popcorn that had escaped from its bag.
A sailor came round and handed out paper bags to be sick into. Soon the room filled with the sound of heaving and the throat-clenching smell of vomit. Bronwyn was right; she wasn’t seasick, but Amanda, Mavis and I certainly were. We were torn between straining our muscles clutching onto our seats to avoid being thrown onto the metal floor, and holding the bags to our mouths.
‘Do you think we’ll sink?’ I gasped between bouts of sickness.
Bronwyn grinned. ‘Well, the sailors are okay, like. They’re not worried so I suppose we shouldn’t be either.’
For an hour we were at the mercy of the sea, thrown from side to side, barely able to hear each other for loud claps of thunder and the screeching of the boat. It was like the gods had decided to throw everything they had at us.
Then, as suddenly as it began, the storm lessened. Waves still battered the ship but they were getting less furious. The squealing of metal gradually calmed until we were able to tentatively stand upright again.
I put the sick bag in a bin and wiped my lips with my hankie, longing for some water to get rid of the taste in my mouth. ‘Phew, I think we made it,’ I said.
‘Let’s pray a Y-boat doesn’t get us,’ Amanda said, holding her hands in a prayer gesture.
She was right. I sent up a silent prayer to a God I wasn’t sure I believed in.