The Girls in Blue

by Fenella J Miller

  The next ten days were spent performing similar, numbingly boring activities. Eventually the morning arrived when they would be interviewed and then allocated their trade.

  *

  Oscar was involved with his squadron leader planning mock sorties. As dogfights would often be conducted when flying upside down, pilots had to learn to handle their kites under all circumstances. The G-force when climbing steeply at full throttle or diving when upside down made one’s head spin and one could lose consciousness for a few seconds.

  He tried to push Jane from his thoughts but she constantly intruded at the most inconvenient moments. He couldn’t understand why he’d become so obsessed with a girl he scarcely knew. He must try harder to forget her as he was unlikely to see her again.

  The more they practised the less likely they were to be shot down on their first real sortie. They’d all had to undergo parachute training before getting their wings – he hoped to God that he’d never have to use this knowledge.

  Two weeks after meeting Jane he heard that the NAAFI were putting on a dance to welcome the new WAAF who’d just arrived at the base.

  ‘Roy, do you know if invites have been sent to Ash Vale and Pannal Ash? There’re hundreds of men here and only about thirty girls – we could do with more if this dance is going to be enjoyable.’

  ‘Good thinking, old boy. I think we could arrange to collect a couple of coachloads and then return them afterwards. Of course, it all depends if they can get leave of absence.’

  ‘I shouldn’t think any of them are needed at night – there’s damn all happening on the home front.’

  The two of them headed to the admin office and spoke to the adjutant. He assured them that invitations had been extended to both places and that the COs had agreed that any girl who wished to attend could do so.

  ‘You hoping Jane will come? You were rather taken with her, weren’t you?’

  ‘I was – in fact I still am. I hope she comes, but somehow I doubt she will.’

  ‘Surely, all girls like to dance?’

  ‘Not this one. I think she’s very young, inexperienced and innocent. Probably just left a select girls’ boarding school and is finding real life a bit of a challenge.’

  ‘Bloody hell! You think she might be only eighteen years old? That would make you a cradle snatcher, old boy.’

  ‘A bit of an exaggeration, Roy. I’m twenty-three not thirty-three. Anyway, whether she comes or not I’m looking forward to a bit of female company. Sodding about doing very little whilst waiting for the things to start is getting on my nerves.’

  ‘Crikey, old boy, enjoy a quiet life whilst you can. Once it begins, we might have no life at all.’

  ‘That’s a depressing thought. You’re right, Roy; I’ll appreciate today and not anticipate tomorrow.’ He’d not been entirely honest with his friend as the only female company he wanted was that of the lovely girl who’d somehow embedded herself in his heart.

  *

  On the evening of the event all the bods were in their best bib and tucker – buttons polished to a high shine and immaculate shirts and ties. The NAAFI girls had managed to find a few dozen balloons, which were festooned around the walls making it look quite jolly.

  Catterick was fortunate as they had their own band. Once things got going on the military front it was highly likely the members would be separated as they were posted elsewhere. But tonight, and hopefully for the next few weeks, they had their own live music.

  The resident WAAF were already in the room, clumped together in giggling groups, waiting to be asked to dance once the music started. This shindig wasn’t restricted to officers only but open to everyone. He expected there to be a lot of beer consumed and several lower ranks appearing on charges of being drunk and disorderly tomorrow.

  There must be over a hundred boys in blue milling about, glancing expectantly at the double doors, waiting to see if the promised influx of extra females turned up. There was a ripple of excitement and he couldn’t stop himself turning to look along with everyone else.

  The room was invaded by sixty or more girls of all shapes and sizes. He scanned the throng and picked Jane out immediately. She was hovering towards the back of the group, looking nervous and uncomfortable. Being half a head taller than most of them, she’d been easy to spot.

  He shouldered his way through the eager press of airmen trying to grab themselves a partner for the first dance, which was going to be a Glenn Miller number from the sound of it. He reached her side as three others were about to pounce.

  Her face was white, her eyes wide as she looked from side to side for a way of escaping. ‘Excuse me, gentlemen, Miss Hadley is with me.’ He moved swiftly putting himself between the would-be partners and herself.

  ‘Oscar, that’s the third time you’ve rescued me. Thank you. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you.’

  8

  Jane had been reluctant to accompany the others to Catterick, not just because she didn’t want to see Oscar again but because the thought of being surrounded by eager young airmen filled her with horror.

  When the coach had arrived she’d wanted to remain on it but had no option but to follow the other chattering, excited girls into the building. Immediately she was overwhelmed by the noise, the brightness, the press of unfamiliar people.

  She was panicking, her head pounding, when Oscar barged through the group of hopeful young men trying to claim her hand for a dance and, with his bulk, protected her from further pestering. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life, despite her earlier reluctance to meet him.

  ‘Jane, let’s get out of here until things have calmed down a bit. I’ll take you to the mess – it’s likely to be empty at the moment.’

  He put his arm lightly around her shoulders and guided her out of the mass. The further she got from the crowd the better she felt.

  ‘I’m not an officer. I can’t go in there and I don’t want to get you into trouble.’

  He chuckled. He was walking beside her, not touching her; he seemed to understand she didn’t like physical contact. ‘Tonight’s different, Jane, no one will complain. I should think you won’t be the only WAAF invited to have a gin and it or a sweet sherry.’

  ‘I don’t drink alcohol.’ This sounded very abrupt so she qualified her statement. ‘I should say that I’ve never drunk alcohol, which is different I suppose.’

  ‘I expect they have ginger beer or lemonade. You could always try a shandy – a gentle introduction to the world of drink.’

  He’d whisked her so quickly through the building that she scarcely had time to look around her. It smelled different to her base – a definite masculine odour made up of tobacco, beer, and something else she couldn’t identify. She sniffed and then smiled.

  ‘Engine oil.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘That’s what I can smell.’ She turned her head and breathed in next to his shoulder. ‘Yes, you definitely have the aroma of engine oil but not tobacco. Don’t you smoke like everyone else?’

  ‘I tried cigarettes, pipe and cigars but didn’t like the taste. It’s supposed to be good for you, open your lungs, calm you down or something – but I’d rather have a pint of beer if I want to relax.’

  The Officers’ Mess had a bar at one end, a dartboard, half a dozen leather armchairs and several tables with battered wooden chairs around them. Hardly luxurious, but she didn’t suppose the young men cared about such things.

  There were three other occupants leaning on the bar deep in conversation. All had gold braid and many stripes – they must be very senior officers. She froze and was prepared to back out before they saw her intruding.

  ‘Don’t worry about them. The one with dark hair and grey temples is our wing commander, Jack Sugden – he’s a good bloke and won’t mind you being in here. One of the other two is the adjutant, Bill Jones, and I’ve no idea who the third one is – he must be a visitor.’

  He ignored his superiors and guided her to t
he comfortable chairs, which fortunately were at the opposite end to the bar. ‘Take a pew, Jane. I’ll get the drinks.’

  He strode away, full of confidence, and she envied him. It must be so much easier being a man – being in charge – being able to… She pushed the unwelcome thoughts aside. That part of her life was over and she was never going to put herself in danger of being abused again.

  She settled into the chair, pleased that the deep seat and high sides almost concealed her. With luck no one would know she was there. Oscar was talking to the three men at the bar and he hadn’t saluted; in fact was addressing them as if they were friends. Hadn’t he said that tonight everyone was mixing together at the dance?’

  She closed her eyes and forced her fingers to unclench. The faint sound of lively music drifted down the corridor. There must be a band and she’d never heard one of those. Maybe she could go back if she had him beside her and he promised not to let strangers drag her onto the dance floor.

  ‘Here you are, Sleeping Beauty, a very weak shandy. I’ve also brought you neat lemonade in case you don’t like it.’

  ‘Thank you, I wasn’t asleep I was just listening to the music. I panicked rather at all the people, at the men trying to grab my arm. I’m not used to crowds and I’ve never been to a dance.’

  ‘I thought as much.’ He was looking at her in a peculiar fashion, his amazing eyes narrowed, with a very intense expression. ‘I know you said you didn’t want to get to know me better but if I give you my word that I’ll not be anything but a friend, do you think you could bring yourself to come out with me occasionally?’

  The tight band around her chest vanished. ‘I’d like that. But sadly, we’re going to be sent to our next posting for training the day after tomorrow. So I doubt that we’ll get the opportunity before I go.’

  ‘Then we’ll make the most of tonight. After that, could I persuade you to write to me?’

  ‘I’m not sure how that will work. Isn’t your squadron likely to be moved at some point?’

  ‘I’m certain that we will be, but not for the next few weeks. I’d hoped you would come tonight and so have written down my number and details. All you need to put on the envelope is my name, number and Catterick RAF base and it will find me.’

  She took it and slipped it into one of the many pockets on her uniform jacket. The shandy was quite palatable and she took a second sip. ‘I like this, thank you. This is what I’ll ask for if I ever go into a bar again.’

  ‘You didn’t answer my question. Are you going to keep in contact?’

  She hesitated, not sure if she was ready to be closer to anyone. Then her confidence returned. It would be perfectly safe writing to him as long as they didn’t meet too often. Being with him in person was far too unsettling. ‘I certainly will write. I’ve never been alone with a gentleman and only left my boarding school in July. I must seem like a silly little girl to you.’

  His smile was warm and not at all threatening. ‘I worked that out for myself, Jane.’ He paused and raised an eyebrow in a comical fashion. ‘I’m assuming I have your permission to use your first name.’

  She nodded. ‘I don’t suppose you’d take any notice if I did say no. It’s very disconcerting being on first-name terms with a man I didn’t know two weeks ago.’

  ‘If you don’t mind me asking, what made you join up?’

  ‘I wasn’t happy at home and this gave me the opportunity to leave.’ Even telling him so little made her feel sick. Nobody else must ever know exactly what had happened to her – it was too humiliating.

  ‘Okay, I won’t press you for more details. Do you have any siblings?’

  ‘Only child. What about you?’

  ‘I have two sisters, both older than me, both married with nippers of their own. My dad’s a vicar – he was horrified when I chose to join the RAF after Oxford. He doesn’t approve of violence of any sort, however justified it might appear.’

  ‘Is he a pacifist? There was a girl at school who was a Quaker and she was anti-war. I understand how they feel but sometimes you just have to fight back. Good versus evil – or something like that.’

  *

  Oscar nodded. ‘The Nazis have given us no option. Appeasement didn’t work – Hitler wants to conquer the world and we just can’t let him do that. My brothers-in-law will get called up eventually – they are in their thirties so not too old to do their bit.’

  ‘I was wondering, what made you choose to be a pilot?’

  ‘I was always fascinated by flight. I was left a hundred pounds by a great-aunt and used it to pay for flying lessons. I already had my licence when I joined so my training was shorter than it might have been. That’s why I’ve been promoted already.’

  ‘Did you know that they don’t have officer training in the WAAF? I suppose you had to go away somewhere to become one.’

  ‘All pilots are officers – at least they were before the outbreak of war. I think they’ll have to take other ranks eventually as there just won’t be enough flyers otherwise.’ The mortality rate for aircrew was likely to be high but best not to dwell on that.

  He noticed that her foot was tapping in time to the distant music. ‘Do you know how to dance?’

  ‘I do, we had lessons at school. But as I was tall, I always had to be the man so I’ve no idea of the steps for a woman.’

  ‘No problem.’ He was about to tell her to accompany him but then reconsidered. ‘Would you like to dance with me? If, when we get there, you don’t feel comfortable then we’ll come back here.’

  ‘Can I take my drink? What exactly is a shandy? It’s really quite delicious.’

  ‘Lemonade and bitter – that’s beer – not too strong.’ He stood up and offered his hand and to his surprise she took it. It seemed small and delicate in his. ‘Probably better to finish our drinks as we can’t dance with them in our hands and if we put them down some blighter will take them.’

  He drained his pint and she did the same with her shandy. He’d released his hold as soon as she’d been on her feet. For some reason she was wary of being touched and he didn’t want to scare her away.

  The noise from the temporary dance floor washed over them as they approached and he expected her to shrink back but the reverse was true. She looked up at him, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed with excitement. ‘I hope you don’t regret this, Oscar – I think I’m very likely to tread all over your toes.’

  ‘I’m looking forward to the experience, crushed toes or not.’ He was about to pay her a compliment but reconsidered. Telling her she was the most beautiful girl in the room might put her off. It was going to be bloody difficult keeping her at arm’s length when the more time he spent with her the more he wanted to kiss her.

  They arrived at an opportune moment as the band began to play a waltz. She came willingly into his arms and he moved them smoothly onto the floor. For the first few moments she was stiff and unresponsive then gradually softened and began to follow his lead.

  Soon they were twirling around the floor like professionals. He’d always been an expert dancer but had never enjoyed the experience as much as he was now. He risked drawing her closer and she looked up and smiled at him.

  ‘I think you must be an expert to be able to make it seem so easy.’

  Was she a mind reader? ‘It helps that we’re the perfect height for each other. Don’t look now, but we’re gathering a lot of attention.’

  To his astonishment she laughed, turning even more heads in their direction. He tightened his hold so every inch of her was pressed against his body. They dipped and swayed in perfect harmony and he was disappointed when the dance finished.

  There was a spontaneous round of applause and she hid her face against his shoulder as he walked her to the edge of the room. ‘They’re going to play something different from the sound of it. I don’t suppose you know how to do the Charleston?’

  ‘Actually, I do. It might have been an all-girls establishment but our dance teacher wasn’t at all stuf
fy.’

  ‘Then, shall we give it a go?’

  She glanced down at her uniform and pulled a face. ‘I think my skirt’s too tight to do it justice, but I’ll do my best.’

  The band struck up a lively number. He’d no idea of the title, but it had an American flavour suitable for dancing the Charleston. He’d spent a few months in the States after leaving university and before joining the RAF and had learnt the moves when he was there.

  The floor was only half full now as those who didn’t know this modern dance moved to the edges to watch those who did. It was energetic, great fun; it didn’t really matter if you didn’t get the steps right as long as you were in time to the music.

  One thing he did remember was that swivelling the feet was essential. Jane knew exactly what to do and was better than he was. After a few minutes, others joined in copying the basic moves and there was a lot of handwaving, feet swivelling and laughing.

  He’d never seen her really laugh – he didn’t think she did a great deal of it. Maybe one day she’d tell him why she was so wary.

  Red-faced and sweating, they staggered from the floor in search of a drink. ‘Let’s go back to the Mess. It’ll take too long to get a drink in here. I’m shattered – I’d forgotten how exhausting that dance was.’

  She mopped her face with her handkerchief and then wriggled her hips in an attempt to get her skirt to return to the place it should be. During their performance she’d pulled it up above her knees so she could move more freely.

  ‘I hope I don’t get put on a charge for interfering with my uniform.’ The wriggling had failed to achieve her objective but it was doing nothing for his self-control. She reached down and grabbed the offending hem and pulled it back in place. ‘There, that’s better. Come on, Flying Officer Stanton, don’t dither about here. I need my shandy.’

  He grabbed her hand and they ran through the building, dodging past those who were travelling at a more sensible speed, and burst into the bar. Fortunately, his superior officers were no longer there and the place was now much busier.