The Girls in Blue

by Fenella J Miller

  They eventually parted company in front of the entrance to Bentley Priory.

  ‘Blimey, it’s bloomin’ huge. You’ll be safe in here. TTFN. We’ll be closer when I transfer, even if we’re not at the same base.’

  Sadly, Jane waved goodbye knowing she wouldn’t be venturing outside whatever base she was on until she reached her majority. It was possible he’d already traced her here so she would put in for a transfer immediately and hope that this would be enough to keep her safe.

  *

  The pandemonium outside the hall after the sound of someone falling in the pond continued. Oscar’s greatcoat was the only one left. He snatched it up, raced out of the door, skidded around the end of the building and ran towards the crowd of shouting, drunken men and women.

  He was quite prepared to jump in and pull whoever it was out of the water. He was a strong swimmer and even the cold would be no deterrent.

  His mad dash to the rescue proved unnecessary. Two miserable-looking airmen were already clambering out of the pond, dripping with icy water, teeth chattering. Then he realised the watching crowd were actually laughing and cheering the unfortunate men, that the racket wasn’t caused by panic.

  Roy appeared at his side, his teeth flashing white in the torchlit darkness. ‘Bloody hell, that was fun. Not for those poor sods, of course, but I’ve not laughed so much in months.’

  Someone from the pub had appeared with blankets and sympathy and the unfortunate duo were escorted away accompanied by hoots of laughter and hearty slaps on the back.

  ‘I’m going back in the hall as I’m not needed here. I’m helping them tidy up.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand. The cold air has sobered me up. But it was a damn good evening. Who would have thought a beetle drive could be such fun?’

  By the time they’d finished stacking chairs and sweeping floors there was no one outside. They shook hands with the three ladies who’d been in charge of the event and headed for their billet.

  The front door was kept permanently locked but they had their own key so this was no obstacle to them getting in. To his surprise Mrs Branston appeared from her sitting room and was actually almost smiling.

  ‘I heard there was some excitement at the village hall earlier. Mildred, she’s on the committee you know, popped in to tell me that the two of you had remained behind to clear up. She also said that you, Flight Lieutenant, have agreed to sing in our choir when you can. It would appear that you have a beautiful tenor voice.’

  He exchanged an amused glance with Roy. The village grapevine was certainly efficient. ‘Fortunately, ma’am, the two idiots who fell in the pond are little the worse for their experience. I always avoided any similar functions when living at home, but wish now that I hadn’t. We both thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.’

  ‘There’s something arranged on the last Saturday of every month. I’m too decrepit to attend myself, but Mildred always calls in on the way home to tell me what happened. Now, young men, I’ve put a jug of coffee and some freshly made sandwiches in your sitting room. After all the excitement I expect you’re in need of nourishment.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s exactly what we do need. But, please don’t feel you have to give us coffee every day. We can get some occasionally at the base, but once yours is gone I doubt you’ll be able to replace it.’

  ‘Fiddlesticks to that! I’m in the fortunate position of being able to send to Harrods or Fortnum & Mason’s for anything I require. Run along and put your coats away, boys; your supper will be waiting for you.’

  He said nothing until they were in their bedroom with the door shut. ‘I think things here are going to be a little less frosty in future. I wonder which of the ladies we met tonight was Mildred – no doubt we’ll discover that next time we go to a social.’

  The following morning, despite every encouragement, Roy refused to get out of bed and accompany him to matins. Therefore, he ate his substantial breakfast on his own. Mrs Branston, elegant in a moss green tweed coat and matching pillbox hat, was waiting impatiently in the entrance hall.

  ‘There you are at last, young man. I haven’t been to church myself for weeks because of the inclement weather. I’m expecting there to be a large congregation today and I’ve no wish to be stuck behind a pillar.’

  He escorted her into the church and then made his way to the vestry. He was welcomed enthusiastically and one of the flustered female choristers attempted to find a gown of the appropriate length.

  ‘This one will be fine. I really don’t mind if my ankles are visible. The rest of me is suitably covered.’

  He glanced at the list of hymns displayed next to the choir stalls and knew all of them. He was so familiar with the order of service he scarcely had to look in the book to follow the responses. The choir consisted of four elderly men, six assorted women and three choirboys. He was a welcome addition and, when the service ended, he was glad he’d made the effort.

  He had always made a point of attending the short services put on by the padre at whatever base he was stationed at but rarely went in search of an actual church. In future he wouldn’t be so delinquent in his thanks to the Almighty. He was going to need all the help he could get once things kicked off. On the way out the vicar took his hand and pumped it vigorously.

  ‘Excellent, thank you so much for making an appearance this morning, Flight Lieutenant. Are you coming to Evensong?’

  ‘I certainly am. If you’ll excuse me, sir, Mrs Branston is waiting for me to accompany her home.’

  *

  By the end of March, he, like everyone else on the base, was aware that the phoney war would soon be over. His flight, and the entire squadron, was as well prepared as they could be. The powers that be decided wasting valuable fuel and ammunition on dummy runs and practice dogfights wasn’t cost-effective. Therefore, each flight was stood down in turn and given a travel warrant to go anywhere in the country.

  ‘Roy, we’ve got seven days’ leave. What shall we do with it?’

  ‘What about Norwich? Might be worth a visit.’

  ‘Sounds good to me. Hang on, Riley’s heading this way.’

  ‘Good show, glad I caught you blighters before you departed. Leave’s cancelled, I’m afraid. Just heard the squadron’s being relocated to Kenley.’ Riley frowned and tweaked his moustache. ‘We’ll be the first kites there. I gather the place isn’t operationally ready. Probably be utter chaos.’

  ‘They’ll have it ready when it’s needed. We’ll be closer to the action. When do we leave?’

  ‘As soon as the other chaps return. They will all have reported by midnight tonight. The bigwigs want us in situ before lunch tomorrow. We’re staying in Fighter Group 11, just in a different sector. Prefer to be in the thick of it when it starts.’

  ‘Okay. I take it my chaps know or do I need to find them myself?’

  ‘I’m detailed to tell flight leaders. Up to you, old boy, to inform your bods.’

  There were two married men in his command and they were the only ones fed up about the cancellation of their home leave.

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be reinstated once we’re settled at our new base,’ he told them hoping this would, in fact, be true. A move to an airfield only half-constructed after being at Debden would probably mean their accommodation might well be in a Nissen hut rather than a comfortable billet.

  On the plus side they would be closer to London and he and his men would be able to visit the capital more often. He wouldn’t go back to the same hotel in case he bumped into Jane. That would be hard for both of them. In fact, they were probably close enough to spend the evening in Town and still get back before curfew.

  He was sorry to say goodbye to his landlady and doubted that he’d ever have such a comfortable billet again. ‘Please pass on my apologies to the vicar. I enjoyed singing in his choir these past few weeks.’

  ‘I didn’t intend to take in any further officers, but to my surprise I found I’ve rather enjoyed having you living under my roof. Good luck
to you both.’

  21

  Jane’s request for a transfer was refused. She could hardly explain why it was crucial for her to move somewhere else as that would reveal that she’d signed up without parental permission. Disappointed that she now had no option but to spend any free time on the base, she threw herself into being the best she could be as a plotter.

  A week after her return she wrote to Charlotte telling her what had happened and asking her advice. She also passed on the good news about their mutual friend’s engagement. The reply arrived the following week.

  Dear Jane,

  How absolutely dreadful for you. I think you’re right to keep silent about your reason for remaining on base. Your father must have influential friends to have discovered you so easily. I think that your mother must have told him you were in the WAAF. There’s no other explanation for him being able to track you down.

  The Sanctuary Hotel was recommended to us when we arrived in London so I think it quite possible that’s why he made his enquiries there. Somehow one of those creepy detectives must have got a look at the book and seen your name there.

  Keep asking for a transfer. Eventually, something will come up and they’ll be prepared to let you go.

  I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you last week. I doubt that we’ll get the opportunity again as everyone here is convinced Hitler will start attacking the low countries now the weather’s better.

  Thank you for giving me the news about Nancy. The first of us to fall in love – neither of us are likely to do so given our circumstances. Let’s hope they can get married as planned in the autumn and that we can get the time off to attend.

  Take care of yourself and don’t despair – I rather feel that even if your father appeared at the gates they wouldn’t release you. You’re far too valuable to them now.

  Jane was somewhat comforted by this letter and prayed that her friend was right. She volunteered for any extra duties, offered to stand in for others when they wanted a day off for something special, and she now had experience in most of the sectors on the table.

  As the days passed without any further scares she began to believe she was safe. The weeks passed and although a little lonely without any special friends, she was on good terms with a dozen or more girls as she became known as someone who would always step in and take an extra shift, if she could, when asked.

  The first week in April was busier than any preceding it from an operational viewpoint. She was so proficient at calculating distances, locations and altitude and then moving the counters around the map on the table, that her name began to be mentioned by those relaying the information. She’d heard that Fighter Group HQ at Uxbridge needed more experienced plotters and filterers to work there.

  Immediately she went to the adjutant’s office and asked if she might be transferred there. This time she wasn’t sent away with a flea in her ear.

  ‘We were already intending to move you, Aircraft Woman Second Class 374,’ her commanding officer said with a smile. ‘Your work is exemplary and we shall be sorry to lose you. You will be taking a more senior position and have been promoted to ACW1.’

  Jane saluted smartly. ‘Thank you, ma’am. When do I transfer?’

  ‘Two others will be going with you. Details will be posted on the board later today.’

  ‘Will there be transport or do we make our own way?’ The thought of lugging her heavy kitbag on and off trains wasn’t a happy one.

  ‘You can travel with the airmen. There are a dozen transferring at the same time as you three. Not officers – not pilots or aircrew.’

  There was no need for anything further to be said. The lower orders, those of similar rank to herself, could well make the journey embarrassing. It was all very well flying off the slippery benches and showing one’s knickers to other girls but quite different when it was men watching.

  Her name was already removed from the duty roster and somebody else’s written in its place. Horrid to be leaving somewhere she’d spent quite a long time and not have anyone to say goodbye to.

  They’d had a full inspection quite recently when everything had to be laid out on the bed in a certain order and anything missing had to be replaced at one’s own expense and then that unfortunate WAAF would be written up.

  This meant that her gear was already neatly folded, which made it much easier to pack. Her stationery folder, documents and personal items went into a canvas shoulder bag. Everything else had to be crammed into the tubular kitbag. She left the top unlaced so she could put in her toiletries, nightwear and so on when she got up tomorrow.

  Last time she’d transferred she’d had to drag the wretched thing behind her. She picked it up and to her surprise it seemed much lighter. A wave of panic flooded through her as for a moment she thought she must have omitted to put half her kit inside. She checked the locker and it was empty, as were the pegs by her bed.

  For the first time in several weeks her smile was genuine. By some miracle she’d become stronger and fitter – it wasn’t the bag that was lighter at all.

  The two girls accompanying her to Uxbridge were named Angela Westley and Emily Defoe. They were the same rank as her, but apart from that Jane had no idea who they were. She couldn’t remember speaking to either of them. The lorry taking them to Uxbridge would be leaving Bentley Priory at eight o’clock the following morning.

  She was about to head for the recreation room when a tall, slim, fair-haired girl rushed up to her. ‘I say, Ange and I have been hanging about here for ages waiting to see who was coming with us. I’m Em. Ange has gone to bag us a table in the rec room so we can get to know each other.’

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you. You already know that my name’s Jane. Uxbridge is only about twelve miles from here so it won’t take long to get there tomorrow.’

  The girl about her own height and of similar colouring who was waving from the far side of the room must be the missing Ange.

  ‘It’s going to be strange working underground and not on an actual base,’ Jane said as she sat down. ‘I’m looking forward to being somewhere smaller, somewhere easier to get around and where it’s easier to get to know the other people working there. I suppose having the ops room sixty feet below the surface is sensible but it’s an awful lot of stairs to go up and down, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s a good thing we girls are so fit. Are you claustrophobic?’ Em asked. ‘I don’t like heights, but am absolutely fine travelling on the underground and so on.’

  ‘No, not as far as I know.’ Her hands clenched under the table as she lied. Having been locked into a variety of enclosed spaces during her childhood, including the broom cupboard and coal cellar, had made her fearful of being shut in anywhere.

  ‘It’s a real feather in our caps to be selected for this posting. We’re the best of the best and I intend to be an officer before the end of the war,’ Ange said.

  They spent a pleasant afternoon getting to know each other but Jane was relieved when the other two joined their friends for a farewell drink at a local pub. She’d been invited but had politely refused saying that she didn’t drink alcohol.

  *

  The journey to Hillingdon House, Uxbridge, in the back of the lorry wasn’t nearly as unnerving as Jane had feared. The airmen were accompanied by a fearsome NCO and behaved impeccably. No ribald comments, no suggestive remarks – they were all perfect gentlemen.

  Their accommodation was excellent, no huge dormitory with dozens of iron bedsteads but a real bedroom shared only with Angela and Emily. They were very chummy, had known each other since basic training, had attended similar expensive boarding schools, and obviously found her dull and ignorant as, after the first day, they didn’t include her in their conversations or invite her to socialise with them.

  The underground bunker had been built close to Hillingdon House where all the other admin offices were housed. After a few days she was resigned to her less than ideal circumstances, with only the thought that it was unlikely that man and
his detectives would trace her to her new posting.

  Two weeks after her arrival she had a forty-eight-hour pass on the same days that Charlotte was going to be free. Her friend had leave as she was being relocated too.

  In a short telephone conversation, they’d managed to organise their break.

  ‘I’m still not entirely confident about leaving the security of Hillingdon House, Charlotte. I’ve become quite chummy with one of the guards and he promised to keep a lookout for any strangers hanging about.’

  ‘I take it there haven’t been any.’

  ‘Nothing out of the ordinary at all. I’m so looking forward to seeing you, especially if you’re going to be unable to get to London very easily in future.’

  ‘I arrive at Charing Cross. Shall we meet under the clock?’

  ‘As we don’t know exactly what time we’ll be there, that might be problematic. I don’t know if there’s a café, but if there is, shall we meet there?’

  ‘If there isn’t, then whoever gets there first can stand under the clock.’

  *

  Oscar’s arrival at Kenley was as expected. The two new concrete runways were still under construction and they were the first, and only, squadron on the base since it had been recommissioned last year.

  The brown jobs were busy setting up their ack-ack guns around the perimeter. It seemed rather pointless bringing them here when nothing was ready.

  Win Co Riley was equally browned off. ‘You’d have been better staying at Debden. Even if all hell breaks loose, there’s bugger all we can do about it until we can refuel and rearm.’

  ‘They’ve got hangars but no mechanics to work in them,’ he replied.

  ‘The only positive to this almighty cock-up is that you can all take your leave. I was informed that it’s going to be another couple of weeks before things are battle-ready.’

  The atmosphere changed from fed up to that of a crowd of boys being released from school for the holidays. A couple of hours after their arrival he and Roy were on their way to London.