‘Leave your bag there and I’ll show you around the depot.’ Mr McDonald was my new boss and keen to get me started. ‘We’ve been asking for someone for ages. Important work we do here, keeping the military in the area stocked with everything they need.’
We headed out of the office building and into the yard. It was so big it was difficult to see it all in one glance, and much of it was covered in buildings or lorries moving here and there. It was more or less square. One side was bordered by the road where I’d come from on a number 57 bus. The opposite side was bordered by a railway line, a third by houses and the other couldn’t be seen because of one of the two massive warehouses.
Men were everywhere, loading or unloading lorries; pushing trollies stacked with goods from one place to another, or painting the side of one of the warehouses. Between the road, the railway and all the activity, it was a noisy place and smelled of petrol fumes and smoke from the trains. Dust swirled like miniature whirlwinds here and there, lit by the morning sun.
‘Let me show you what’s what,’ Mr McDonald said, leading me to the nearest warehouse. He had a funny side-to-side walk, probably caused by his very fat legs or arthritic hips. The noise inside the warehouse was deafening, but what struck me most was how organised it all was. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were loaded with an enormous variety of things, all clearly labelled. He saw my look of surprise.
‘People don’t think about it, but we have to supply everything from guns to food.’
‘But surely the cooks must buy fresh food locally.’
He nodded. ‘They do, you’re right, but we have the canned and bottled stuff. Even with everyone “Digging for Victory” and turning their flower gardens into vegetable plots, there’s not enough food to feed the whole population. There are warehouses all over London and the country, this is just one of many. Did you notice the guards as you came in?’
I shook my head. I’d been so busy looking for where I had to report, I hadn’t seen them at all.
‘We have to guard against stuff going missing. Everything is checked in and checked out.’ He stopped and took me out of the warehouse to an area where we wouldn’t be overheard. ‘I was told you’d uncovered a German spy while you were in Paris. That’s one of the reasons I particularly wanted you. You must be good at keeping your eyes open.’
I had no idea that sort of information would be passed on and felt embarrassed. ‘Is that what you want me to do then?’
He waved his arm to indicate the whole yard. ‘You won’t be responsible for that on your own. Like I said, we check everything in and out, but the more people on the alert the better. You’ll be doing some typing and switchboard work, but I’m going to make sure you sometimes have to come out in the yard.’
I swallowed hard. ‘But what if I don’t find anything?’
‘No one’s going to blame you. Just keep your eyes and ears open, that’s all I ask. Report to me if you’re suspicious about anything. Come on, let’s get inside and I’ll show you where you’ll sit.’
My desk was in a small room with three other girls who all stopped typing and looked up when I walked in. Two smiled and said hello; the third ignored me and went back to what she was doing.
Mr McDonald coughed loudly. ‘Can I introduce you to Lily Baker,’ he said, ‘she’ll be working with you. Normally, she’d be in uniform, but she needs a few days to sort that out. She can type and do switchboard work. I hope I can count on you all to take her under your wing and make her feel at home.’
He pushed me forward. The girl nearest stood up and leaned over her typewriter. ‘I’m Edith, pleased to meet you.’ She was a wispy sort of girl, her uniform hung off her and she was pale and looked underfed. But her smile was friendly, and I was relieved I’d be sitting next to her.
She looked at the girl next to her. ‘This is Marion,’ she said. Marion moved forward and shook my hand. ‘Nice to meet you, you’ll soon find your way round,’ she said. She was plump with rosy cheeks and thick brown wavy hair.
The third person finally looked up. She was older, perhaps mid-forties. Deep frown lines etched her forehead and her mouth naturally turned down at the corners. She was not in uniform. ‘I’m Mrs Rogan, and I’m your supervisor,’ she finally said, ‘you come to me if you’ve got any problems with your work. No need to bother Mr McDonald.’
I hoped I wouldn’t need to turn to her for help very often.
‘Now, I’ll leave you to it,’ Mr McDonald said. ‘Mrs Rogan will give you your work each day. Come to see me before you go this evening and let me know how you get on.’
‘Come and sit here,’ Edith said, patting the desk next to hers. I took off my coat and sat looking at the scratched wooden desktop. The typewriter and wire basket were the only things on it. A chair scraped on the floor and Mrs Rogan came towards me with a pile of papers. ‘Type these reports, one carbon copy, no mistakes,’ she said, thrusting them into the wire basket. ‘Pens and a rubber in the drawer. Ask me if you can’t read any of the handwriting, don’t guess and waste paper, there’s a war on. Paper and other things you’ll need are in the stationery cupboard over there.’
‘But what about switchboard work?’ I asked.
‘No need to worry about that. It’s only in an emergency if two girls are off. If that happens they’ll give you the training.’
‘I’m used to working a switchboard.’
‘Well, let’s hope it’s the same type then.’
For most of the day the only sound in the room was the thumping of the typewriter keys or the sound of paper being rolled in or pulled out. But each time Mrs Rogan left the room, the atmosphere changed completely and Edith and Marion came to life.
‘You got a bloke?’ Edith asked, looking at my engagement ring.
My body felt cold. ‘I have, I’m engaged. But Edward is listed missing, has been for several months. He’s with the Royal Berkshire Regiment.’
‘And you’ve heard nothing?’ Marion asked. ‘Still, I suppose no news is good news and all that. Edith’s husband is missing, too.’
I turned to Edith; it was the first time I’d come across anyone in the same situation as me. ‘How long is it since your husband went missing?’
She sighed. ‘Six weeks. He was… is… a flight engineer and his plane went down over France, but no one saw it catch fire so I keep hoping he’s okay. Maybe he parachuted out.’
‘Lots of the boys parachuting over France get shot dead while they’re still in the air,’ Marion said, putting a new sheet of paper in her typewriter.
‘Marion!’ I said, unable to believe how insensitive her comment was.
Edith shook her head, her thin fair hair moving, ‘Take no notice, Lily. You’ll soon learn that when God made Marion, he forgot to give her any tact. Did you get the letter about Edward then? Him going missing?’
I sighed. ‘We’re not married so it would have gone to his mum. She never showed me.’
She reached into her bag and bought out a well-worn envelope. ‘This is the letter I got. Do you want to read it? I expect your Edward’s mum will have got a similar one. When my mother-in-law saw it she fainted clean away. I had to use smelling salts to bring her round. Banged her arm on the table she did as she fell, had a nasty bruise, poor thing. That was the least of our worries though.’
She handed me a sheet of paper that had been read so much the folds were almost falling apart.
Dear Mrs Robson,
May I be allowed to express the sympathy of myself and the squadron with you concerning the sad news of your husband Sidney.
The aircraft in which he was flying took off to attack a target near Paris and nothing further has been heard, although some witnesses say they saw the plane descend, but not catch fire. These comments have not been verified.
You may be aware that in quite a large percentage of cases missing aircrew are eventually reported prison of war, and I hope this may give you some comfort.
Your husband was a most proficient flight engineer and well liked by his colleagues. His loss is deeply regretted by us all.
We need to explain that we do not have any further information at this time. Once again, please accept the deepest sympathy of us all, and let us hope we may soon have some good news about the safety of your husband.
Yours sincerely,
Wing Commander D. F. Smyth
I handed the letter back to Edith. ‘It must be hard to know what to think after reading that.’
‘That’s right, it reads in some places like they know he’s dead, then in others like he might still be alive. I go from despair to hope every day. Two days after we got the letter I was walking down the road and a bloke in uniform just like him walked towards me, a long way down the road though. I thought it was him and it was like my heart jumped and I started to run towards him. Then I realised it wasn’t him at all and burst into tears. I felt such a fool.’
I reached over and put my hand on her arm. ‘Poor you, that must have been awful. Do you know how much effort they put into finding missing soldiers and airmen?’
She shook her head, the corners of her mouth turned down. ‘No idea. They don’t tell you anything but the bare facts, do they? Me and his mum have been beside ourselves wondering if he’s still alive.’
‘Do you get on well with her, then?’
Her eyes sparkled. ‘Yes, she’s lovely is Joan. My mum died when I was a kid and she’s been like a second mother to me. I’ve known her for ever. What about your Edward’s mum? Do you get on with her?’
My heart felt weighed down just thinking about Mrs Halpern. ‘No, she thinks I’m not good enough for Edward, barely speaks to me.’
We would have said more but just then Mrs Rogan came in and we all pretended we’d been working non-stop.