Home Fires and Spitfires

by Daisy Styles

  Ada’s dark-blue eyes opened wide. ‘Heavens!’ she cried. ‘I don’t know how she endures it. The waiting and uncertainty would kill me!’

  When a letter with RAF Duxford stamped on the back arrived for Diana, Ada’s heart skipped a beat.

  ‘Please God let it be good news,’ she prayed, as she personally delivered the letter to Diana, who was on light kitchen duties.

  ‘For you,’ she said.

  In seconds all the blood drained from Diana’s face, and she grabbed the edge of the sink, where she had been washing up, for support.

  ‘Sit down,’ Ada urged and pulled up a chair; then she quickly got Diana a glass of water. ‘I’ll leave you in private,’ she murmured, but Diana grabbed her by the hand.

  ‘No, Ada, please stay with me.’

  Hardly daring to breathe, Ada tensely watched Diana open the letter, which she clutched with trembling hands; suddenly she gave an anguished cry and thrust the letter at Ada.

  ‘It’s from Derek Robson, Harry’s RAF Commanding Officer in Duxford: he’s a friend of Harry.’ Looking terrified, she begged, ‘Read it.’

  Dear Miss Bishop,

  I know how devoted Harry was to you, which is why I feel it is my duty to inform you that he has been reported missing in action. Please understand that for reasons of national security I cannot go into details. All I am able to say is Harry disappeared on a flying mission over two weeks ago, and we have had no contact with him from that date. His plane was discovered grounded in central France. We can only assume that Harry is missing in action and pray for his safe return.

  I will continue to keep you informed.

  Yours faithfully,

  Flight Commander Derek Robson

  RAF Duxford.

  Shocked rigid, Ada put on her bravest, most optimistic face. ‘It’s bad news,’ she babbled. ‘But missing in action could mean he’s in hiding until it’s safe to make his way home.’ Ada scrambled around in her mind, trying to think of something positive to say, something – anything – that poor Diana could hold on to, but Diana didn’t seem to be listening to her.

  They were disturbed by Sister Mary Paul bustling into the kitchen bearing an empty tray. When she saw Diana doubled over in a chair with her head in her hands, the nun didn’t ask any questions but immediately filled up the kettle, which she popped on to one of the Aga hot plates.

  With tears coursing down her face, Diana became hysterical. ‘The Germans could have picked him up, they could have tortured him – Harry could be dead by now!’

  Ada tried her best to calm and placate Diana, who was fast losing control. Glad of the cups of hot sweet tea that Sister Mary Paul quietly handed over, Ada urged Diana to take a few sips to steady her nerves.

  ‘He could be any of those things, dear,’ Ada soothed. ‘He could also be alive and well; for all we know he could have linked up with Resistance workers and be making his way back to England.’

  ‘Oh! Why can’t they tell me more?’ Diana wailed. ‘I can’t bear it,’ she cried in an agony of despair.

  Seeing her patient becoming severely distressed, Ada led the poor trembling girl upstairs to her bedroom, where she helped her undress and get into bed. Sitting by her side, Ada stroked Diana’s long, silky blonde hair until Diana fell into a mercifully deep sleep. Desperate that nobody should disturb her, Ada quickly slipped downstairs to warn Zelda and Gracie not to enter Diana’s bedroom. Both women were horrified when they heard the bad news, Zelda especially so.

  ‘I am happy to sit close by,’ she gently suggested. ‘It might be good to have a friend there when she does wake up.’

  Ada gave Zelda a grateful smile; if anybody knew about loss it was Zelda.

  ‘Thank you, dear, that would be most kind.’

  Ada noticed Gracie looking slightly panicked. ‘The best thing we can do until we know more is to be as normal as possible, Gracie.’

  The girl’s big green eyes filled with tears. ‘I know, Sister, I’ll do my best, I promise – but,’ she muttered with a catch in her voice, ‘poor Diana … as if she’s not been through enough already.’

  Diana was taken off all the duty rotas, including feeding the babies in the nursery.

  ‘You need plenty of bed rest,’ Ada said when she visited Diana in her bedroom the next day.

  Her patient gave a wan smile. ‘Don’t you start, Sister,’ she murmured. ‘Zelda’s on a mission to make me a herbal tonic – honey, spices, beeswax, and God knows what else.’

  Ada smiled. ‘You’d be surprised by how much Zelda knows about natural remedies. She studied their beneficial effects for a while at university; she’s not making it up,’ she assured her patient. ‘And don’t worry, Zelda does a lot of research before she even starts the distilling process.’

  ‘That’s a relief. I thought she stuck two twigs in a teapot and gave it a good shake,’ Diana joked.

  Pleased that Diana’s sense of humour was returning, Ada smiled too. Ada had spoken the truth about the benefits of Zelda’s products: she had seen first-hand the improvement in Frank Arkwright’s skin since he had started using the ointment that Zelda had prepared for him. During his weekly check-up Frank announced that he actually preferred the latest lotion to the previous one he had been using.

  ‘It doesn’t sting or congeal on my skin like the other stuff,’ he told Ada. ‘Due to my poor eyesight I can’t really see how improved my skin is, but it certainly feels a lot better.’

  After examining Frank, Ada agreed that the scar tissue was much improved.

  ‘It’s certainly not as inflamed as it was,’ she said cautiously.

  Frank then asked the question that Ada had been secretly dreading. ‘Do you get it delivered from Lancaster Infirmary?’

  Remembering her promise to Zelda, Ada blushed guiltily as she replied, ‘No, it’s easier to pick it up locally.’

  ‘Well, I’m grateful to you,’ Frank replied.

  After Frank had left the surgery, Ada assuaged her conscience by reasoning that Zelda (working in her garden shed) was a kind of chemist, and nobody could argue that, for the moment at least, she was very local.

  Zelda’s herbal tonic for Diana required ingredients she could buy only at the old-fashioned chemist’s shop in Kendal, which Gracie kindly drove her to. When Zelda appeared with powdered garlic and ginger in her shopping basket, Gracie burst out laughing. ‘Honest to God!’ she exclaimed. ‘You come out of that shop smelling a lot different than when you walked in.’

  ‘If it makes Diana just the tiniest bit stronger, I don’t care what I smell like,’ Zelda retorted.

  Gracie’s smile fell from her pretty face. ‘You’re right, Zell,’ she replied using the nickname she’d given her room-mate. ‘Anything is worth trying, as poor Di’s in such a state.’ Dropping her voice to a whisper, she asked, ‘Do you think her boyfriend could be dead – I mean, really, it does sound likely, doesn’t it?’

  Zelda looked Gracie square in the eye. ‘Do you want the honest truth?’

  Gracie nodded.

  ‘We can only hope and pray he is alive and can find a way to safety, wherever he is.’

  Clearly obsessed, Gracie continued, ‘But if he really is dead, do you think Diana might decide to have her baby adopted?’

  Zelda spoke from experience. ‘The child could be the last link she will ever have with her beloved.’

  Back in her garden shed, Zelda worked up quite a sweat, grinding and pounding herbs and spices in her mortar for Diana. After simmering them in a pan of water until they were reduced by a third, she let the liquor cool before she bottled it. When she presented it, Diana stared sceptically at the golden-brown liquid.

  ‘Thanks, darling, I know you mean well –’ she said nervously.

  ‘Stop being polite, Di,’ she exclaimed. ‘Just try it – I swear it will do you no harm.’

  In fact, Diana rather took to Zelda’s honey-rich tonic. After several large doses she started to sleep better, and her appetite improved to such an extent that she dev
eloped a passion for jelly and custard. Ada allowed herself to give a sigh of relief; hopefully Diana had turned a corner and would soon be strong enough to endure the ordeal of childbirth. She prayed nightly that Diana would receive positive news about Harry. But, contrary to her hopes, a week after Diana had received the letter from Flight Commander Robson in Duxford, the officer himself made a personal phone call to the Home.

  ‘May I please have a word with Diana Bishop?’ he asked Sister Mary Paul, who scuttled off to find Diana, bumping into Ada along the way. ‘There’s a gentleman on the phone asking to talk to Diana – he said he’s from the air base where she used to work.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ Ada murmured fearfully. ‘I’ll fetch her, Sister.’

  Standing by Diana’s side, Ada hardly dared breathe as she watched her pick up the phone with white, trembling hands.

  ‘Hello,’ she whispered in a quavering voice.

  ‘Hello, Diana, Flight Commander Derek Robson here, from Duxford.’

  Gripping the desk Diana murmured, ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Miss Bishop, I’m sorry to have to tell you Harry is no longer assumed missing, I’m sorry,’ Robson, clearly upset, repeated himself as he struggled to continue. ‘Reports have just come in … I thought you would want to know immediately …’ His voice broke as he clearly tried to steady his emotions. ‘Harry has been killed in action.’

  As the phone slithered out of Diana’s shaking hand, she fell to the floor in a faint. Ada quickly replaced the phone in its cradle, then called out for help. Sister Ann appeared, flushed and breathless, and between them the two women managed to get Diana on to the ward, where they quickly drew the curtains around a vacant bed.

  ‘I’ll get her some water,’ Ada said, as her colleague settled their patient on to the bed.

  Sister Ann stopped Ada in her tracks. ‘She’ll need more than water, dear,’ she said, lifting Diana’s wet skirt. ‘Her waters have broken.’

  Diana had a long, hard birth. The weakness and lethargy that she had suffered throughout the latter part of her pregnancy meant that what strength she had was very soon exhausted. Her cervix was slow to dilate, and the grief and stress that had recently preoccupied her dominated her emotions throughout her labour.

  ‘She needs to calm down,’ Dora whispered to Ada, as they took it in turns to monitor Diana’s progress. ‘She’s not relaxing in between contractions, just constantly fretting and working herself up.’

  Ada nodded grimly. ‘I know – Matron said the same thing too. My heart aches for her, poor lamb, going into labour early due to the terrible shocking news she’s had,’ Ada swiped her hand across her worried brow. ‘I’m concerned that if labour drags on her baby could suffer foetal distress.’

  ‘We’ll have to keep checking her blood pressure,’ Dora added. ‘The last thing we want is for Diana to get pre-eclampsia.’

  Gradually Diana’s contractions started to quicken, at which point Ada asked Zelda and Gracie to take it in turns to sit with her, as she and Dora were suddenly needed by Marie in the delivery suite.

  ‘Wouldn’t you know it?’ Dora said as she rolled her eyes. ‘Two births in the same day!’

  Ada smiled. ‘Well, at least Marie’s as strong as a horse.’

  Gracie’s big green eyes all but rolled out of her head when Ada asked for her to sit with Diana in Ada’s absence.

  ‘What if she gives birth right there in front of me?’ horrified Gracie cried.

  Ada couldn’t help but chuckle at her reaction. ‘Giving birth is never that quick, Gracie,’ she assured the startled girl. ‘Anyway, we’ll be just along the corridor, not in Timbuctoo!’ she joked. ‘All you have to do is talk to Diana and reassure her, or, if you’re really worried, just come and get one of us.’

  Gracie gave a nervous nod. ‘All right,’ she agreed, then quickly added with a self-deprecating smile, ‘But can Zelda sit with her first? She’s a lot calmer than me.’

  Zelda was a natural: soothing Diana with her soft voice, she sat by her bedside giving the patient little sips of water and cooling her hot face with a damp flannel. Zelda’s heart ached for the poor stricken girl, whose anguish brought back many painful memories, though Zelda realized, as she reflected on her past, that remarkably she was starting to heal. Not that she could ever forget her beloved Izaak or her family in Germany – they were part of her, her life’s blood – but she had found peace and security in England. Mary Vale and her wonderful friends were intrinsic to the unexpected happiness of her new life, and for that she would never stop giving thanks. In return for what she had so freely received, Zelda made a vow: she would do everything in her power to help others who were suffering – whether it was mixing tonics, making salves, growing veg or sitting by a woman in pain. They were small, grateful gestures to the Home and staff who had saved her from falling into an abyss of utter hopelessness.

  Meanwhile, in the delivery room, Marie’s contractions were fast and furious.

  ‘You’re doing very well, sweetheart,’ Dora said, as Marie took deeps breaths in between her contractions.

  Ada quickly took the opportunity to check the baby’s position before Marie’s next contraction. Placing her cool hands on Marie’s huge tummy, she deftly traced the shape of the baby’s back. Concentrating hard, she said, ‘Baby’s in the correct position: its back is towards the front of your tummy, Marie,’ she explained. ‘Exactly where we want it, allowing easy movement through the pelvis and the birth canal.’

  ‘Oh-oh! Here comes another,’ Marie grimaced.

  Dora checked her fob watch, then looked across the bed at Ada. ‘They’re coming every two minutes,’ she said.

  ‘You’ll have your baby soon, Marie,’ Ada reassured her patient. ‘Big in-breath, go with the contraction, good girl.’

  ‘Arghhhh!’ Marie howled.

  ‘It’s passing,’ Ada soothed. ‘Well done, dear,’ she said, as Marie slumped back on to the bed.

  In no time at all Marie was bearing down. Panting in between the contractions, she conserved her energy; then, tucking her chin on to her chest, she pushed her baby out into the world.

  ‘A boy!’ Dora exclaimed as the baby slithered out from between Marie’s beefy thighs. ‘A big boy too,’ she added, holding him out for Marie to see.

  The young new mother’s eyes filled with tears as she stared into her son’s puckered-up face.

  ‘The image of his father,’ she murmured, as she cradled him naked in her arms. ‘Beautiful silky dark skin and big brown eyes.’

  ‘He’s lovely,’ Dora agreed. ‘Have you thought of a name for the little lad?’

  Marie gazed into her new baby’s face. ‘George,’ she announced. ‘Just like the King!’

  Suddenly the baby opened his mouth and started to wail.

  ‘Hand him over,’ Dora urged. ‘I need to wash and weigh him, then I’ll get you a nice cup of tea.’

  Marie grinned. ‘A pint pot mug, if you please, Nurse Dora, and a packet of fags!’

  22. A Breakfast of Ashes

  Hours after George (who weighed in at a bouncing nine pounds) was born, Diana delivered another little boy into the world. Unlike George, Diana’s son was pale, underweight and listless after his long, protracted birth. As soon as her ordeal was over, Diana slipped into a deep, exhausted sleep, which lasted until dawn, when she woke up to the sound of a wailing baby. Turning instinctively towards the sound, she opened her eyes to find Ada by her bedside bearing a little bundle in her arms.

  ‘This little boy would like to meet his mother,’ Ada said gently.

  Tears slid down Diana’s face as she stared into her baby’s face. ‘His mouth is like Harry’s,’ she murmured. ‘And he has his hair too,’ she said incredulously, running her fingers through her son’s sparse blond hair.

  ‘I’ve brought a bottle so you can feed him,’ Ada explained. ‘He’s only had a bit of sterilized water so far.’

  Diana gazed intently into her baby’s blinking eyes. ‘I want to feed him myself.’


  Ada gave her a hard look. ‘Are you sure?’

  Opening her nightie, Diana answered simply, ‘Quite sure.’

  ‘Here, let me help you,’ Ada said, as she positioned the baby in the crook of Diana’s right arm. ‘Let him nuzzle your breast – he’ll find his own way from there.’

  The little boy snuffled, then, when he found the nipple, he latched on and started to suck.

  Surprised at his strength, Diana let out a little cry. ‘Ow! He’s pulling.’

  ‘He’s hungry, poor chap,’ Ada said, smiling. ‘He slept on and off through the night; he must be starving by now.’

  As Diana gazed at the child in her arms, she remembered what Harry had said when they had discussed their baby before he left.

  ‘Have you thought of a name?’ Diana had asked one night as they were sitting comfortably on the sofa.

  Harry’s handsome face had grown serious as he considered the options. ‘What about Margot if it’s a girl and Teddy if it’s a boy?’

  At the time Diana had smiled indulgently, but, thanks to that conversation, she knew for sure the name of their son.

  ‘Hello, Teddy,’ she whispered, as she stroked his soft, warm cheek. ‘Welcome to the world.’

  From the day they were born George and Teddy slept side by side in identical snowy white canvas cots lined up in the nursery, where all of the other Mary Vale babies slept. Marie bottle-fed her little boy, while Diana continued to breast-feed. Well aware of Diana’s fragile state, Ada sat with her as Teddy, now nearly a week old and already visibly bigger, suckled on her breast.

  ‘Are you sure this is wise, dear?’ Ada tentatively asked.

  Diana turned her cornflower-blue eyes on Ada. ‘I know what you’re really asking me,’ she smiled. ‘Is it a good idea to feed the baby you’re about to have adopted?’

  Ada nodded. ‘I’m thinking of both of you, to be fair,’ she pointed out.

  ‘I completely understand that,’ Diana acknowledged. ‘To be perfectly honest, Ada, I can’t think straight. I’ve lost the love of my life and found the love of my life,’ she confessed. ‘I weep in my sleep for Harry, yet I smile when I wake up and hold this little treasure. I never thought I would feel like this. Before I gave birth, everything was cut and dried: with Harry gone the only sensible thing to do was to return to my war work, which, by the way,’ she added with a modest smile, ‘I was rather good at.’