The Girls in Blue
Page 28
After only walking half a mile a car, driven by a WAAF, pulled up and the driver offered her a lift to the base. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open as she’d now gone twenty-four hours without sleep.
On her arrival she checked in and then headed straight for bed. It seemed as if she’d only just closed her eyes when someone was shaking her shoulder. ‘Jane, Jane, you’re wanted immediately downstairs.’ As the blackouts were drawn she had no idea if it was night or day but the fact that the other three beds were unoccupied must mean that the girls were on duty – so on balance it had to be night-time.
‘Golly, I’ll be as quick as I can. Thank you for coming to fetch me.’
The WAAF who’d been sent with the message left Jane to get up and in record time she was correctly dressed and flying down the stairs. She’d left her bed unstacked and could be put on a charge if she was unlucky enough to have an NCO make a spot inspection of her dorm.
Normally at this time she was on duty and everyone else was in bed. The place was eerily empty. She had only been told to report to the office and assumed one of her team had been taken ill and she was needed to replace them.
There were no officers around in the night and minimum staff on duty. A bored-looking girl was reading a magazine and gestured towards the telephone, which was off the hook. Jane stared at it unable to move for a moment. There was only one reason she would be summoned to take a call at this time and she didn’t want to pick it up. If she didn’t know then it wouldn’t be true.
She forced her legs to move but her hands were shaking so much it was hard to grasp the receiver. ‘ACW1 374 speaking – that is to say – Jane Hadley.’
‘Wing Commander Brotherton, Kenley. I’m sorry to have to tell you that Flight Lieutenant Stanton was shot down yesterday and is missing.’ He cleared his throat noisily. ‘He landed in the drink and was seen alive and well afterwards. His position was noted and we are still searching the area. It’s bloody chaos out there, hundreds of boats of every description plying back and forth rescuing stranded soldiers from the beach. It’s possible he was picked up by one of them so don’t give up hope that he will be found, Miss Hadley.’
‘I see. Thank you for taking the trouble to inform me. Have you told his parents as well?’
‘You’re his fiancée – his letter is addressed to you, but I won’t send it to you yet. It might be several days until we know anything for certain.’
She replaced the receiver without responding or saying goodbye. Oscar couldn’t be dead. She wasn’t going to fall apart this time but would keep believing he was alive and well somewhere. The girl with the magazine was now on her feet.
‘I say, I am most awfully sorry. I should have realised you wouldn’t be called to the telephone for anything but the worst possible news.’
The other girl pulled out a chair. ‘Sit down and I’ll rustle up some tea. You look a bit peaky, love.’
‘He’s missing but they think he might have been picked up by one of the little boats. I really wish they didn’t feel obligated to inform people until they know for certain. Now I’m just going to worry myself silly until I get…’ She couldn’t continue and swallowed the lump in her throat.
‘My brother is a captain in the army and we don’t know if he’s alive or dead. Ma said it could be days before things are sorted out and those who have been rescued can contact their families.’
‘I was told that Oscar had written me a letter but I wouldn’t get it yet. He writes me letters all the time so why would he have given it to his commanding officer?’
‘I haven’t the foggiest. Elsie might know. We can ask her when she brings the tea.’
Despite the circumstances Jane couldn’t help noticing that one of the girls was incredibly posh and the other sounded more like Nancy. The WAAF didn’t discriminate, but just trained up the girls and put them in the positions they would be the most use.
Elsie returned with the tea and had managed to find some biscuits to go with it. When asked about the reference to a letter she nodded. ‘All servicemen have to write something to be sent to their nearest and dearest if they go for a Burton.’
‘Then I must hope I don’t get any mail for the next few days. Now I’m up, I’d rather be busy than go back to bed and fret. Is there any admin I can do for you?’
She was handed a pile of filing and asked to answer the telephone if it rang and the two of them dashed off to smoke a cigarette in the recreation room. Smoking was disapproved of in this office.
Not knowing one way or the other was going to be difficult and she decided it wouldn’t be fair to worry his parents. Better to wait until things were clearer.
28
Oscar opened his eyes and looked around. He was in a ward, in a bed adjacent to the door. The overhead lights were off, only a glimmer from the one on the nurses’ table. It must be night-time. He’d no idea how long he’d been out but had no intention of malingering here a moment longer. The other beds were occupied by sleeping patients.
He needed to get to a telephone. More importantly, he needed to find the bog urgently. He ran his fingers over his chin. Good God! He must have been here several days. He looked inside the locker and found the borrowed uniform neatly folded inside.
He drew the curtains and got dressed. He smiled as he pushed his feet into the boots of the dead soldier. Literally waking in a dead man’s shoes. They were a bit loose, but better than the other way. He picked up the notes hanging from the end of the bed.
He wasn’t listed as Flight Lieutenant Stanton. As far as they were concerned he was a nameless soldier waiting to be identified. For God’s sake why didn’t they look at his tags? He put his hand to his neck and realised they were missing – they must have come off when the soldiers had dragged him into the boat.
The adjutant would have informed Jane he’d been shot down. She would be frantic waiting for news. He prayed they hadn’t declared him missing, presumed dead and posted his farewell letter. Footsteps were approaching and the curtains were drawn back briskly, the rattle loud in the quiet room.
‘You shouldn’t be out of bed, and you certainly shouldn’t be dressed,’ the young nurse said flapping her hands and gesturing that he return from whence he came.
‘I’m Flight Lieutenant Stanton. I was fished out of the sea and put in these clothes. My fiancée and my CO will think that I’m dead.’ Instantly her expression changed.
‘Come with me, Flight Lieutenant, you can use the telephone in matron’s office. You were brought in unconscious three days ago.’
‘The WC first.’
‘It’s the first on the left. The office is at the end of the corridor – it’s clearly marked.’
His watch, despite having been immersed in water for hours, was still functioning. It was just after nine o’clock at night. Hopefully someone who knew who he was would be on the base when he rang. After several whirrs, clicks and long pauses he was connected to Kenley.
‘Flight Lieutenant Stanton, I need to speak to the officer who is in command tonight.’
The WAAF who’d answered dropped the phone. He clearly heard her running footsteps fading into the distance and then the clatter of male boots approaching equally fast.
‘Riley here. Is that really you Stanton?’ Oscar wasn’t given the opportunity to answer as Riley continued. ‘Where the bloody hell have you been these past four days? We’ve sent the bloody letter to your fiancée and told her that you perished at sea. I expect she’s told your parents.’
‘I feared as much.’ He quickly explained how the misunderstanding had occurred. They were both laughing when he’d finished.
‘Damn good show, old bean. You can’t trundle about the place dressed as a brown job. Where exactly are you?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Just a minute, I’ll see if I can find something in here that will give me a clue.’ He put the receiver down and then flicked through a pile of letters. ‘I’m in St Thomas’s in London.’
‘How many were saved, do you know?’
‘I heard that Churchill hoped to get back around forty thousand but in fact it was nearer three hundred. They also got off over a hundred thousand French and Belgian troops.’
‘How many men did we lose?’ He didn’t like to ask after Roy by name.
‘We were bloody lucky. Only the two chaps in my flight.’
‘That’s terrific news. Don’t contact my parents. I’ll do that myself.’
‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am to have you back. Take a few days’ leave. It’s Tuesday, June the fourth, today in case you were wondering. Report for duty next Monday.’
He put the phone down, overwhelmed by what he’d heard. His stomach rumbled loudly. He was desperate for a drink of some sort. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything to eat.
The nurse was waiting by an open door adjacent to the ward. She beckoned him and he shuffled up to her, his feet slipping about in the overlarge boots. There was a student nurse in this little room and the wonderful smell of hot toast drifted out.
‘Nurse Kelly will take care of you, Flight Lieutenant. I’m sorry I can’t find you anything more substantial than toast and tea. You must be absolutely starving.’
‘Anything will be gratefully received. Thank you. They’re sending a driver with my uniform and once it arrives, I can get out of your hair. My fiancée and family think I’m dead so I’ve got to see them pronto.’
Nothing had ever tasted quite as delicious as the six slices of toast and four mugs of hot sweet tea that the young nurse provided. He was allowed to remain in the tiny ward kitchen until word came that his driver had arrived.
‘I’ll go down and get your bag, Flight Lieutenant. Why don’t you nip into the bathroom and have a shave and a bath? I’ll bring your clean clothes in to you.’
He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of a young lady seeing him naked but he supposed he was being unduly modest as she’d probably already seen everything there was to see when he’d arrived.
‘I’ll do that, thank you. Unfortunately, until my kit arrives, I don’t have a razor.’
She beamed. ‘Just a minute, I’ve got what you need here. We don’t expect serving soldiers and so on to arrive from the battlefront with the necessaries.’
Equipped with razor, soap, brush and a large white towel he headed for the bathroom. He drew the regulation five inches and stepped in, relieved to be able to remove the remainder of the ingrained dirt and salt from his long immersion in the English Channel.
He was out, towel wrapped around his waist, shaving when the nurse knocked on the door. ‘Come in, I’m decent.’
‘Here you are. Your driver’s waiting out front but can’t stay where she is for long as it’s the area where the ambulances pull in.’
In double quick time he was dressed and on his way downstairs with his kitbag over his shoulder. He’d abandoned the army uniform and supposed that it would be recycled somehow. He felt better in his own clothes and certainly his feet were more comfortable in shoes that fitted.
He regretted the loss of his flying boots and sheepskin jacket as well as the rest of his uniform. They didn’t fly with any personal items so he now had his wallet, identity papers and ration book in his pocket and brand-new dog tags around his neck.
He tossed his bag onto the rear seat and climbed in beside the WAAF. It was going to be strange driving in the blackout with only the small lowered beam that was allowed on each headlight of the staff car. ‘Thank you for coming – you made good time. I hope you’ve got ample petrol as it’s fifty miles to my family home.’
‘Yes, sir, I filled up and I have a spare can in the back. I know the way to Ipswich but you’ll have to give me directions after that.’
‘We don’t go to Ipswich – we turn off at Chelmsford and head to Braintree. Chalfont Major. Not nearly as far as you thought.’
‘Then I won’t need directions for a while so why don’t you get some rest? It will be light when we get there but still very early.’
She was an excellent driver and after the first few miles he stopped worrying about her competence and did as she suggested.
*
It had been two days since she’d received the dreadful news, along with the heart-breaking letter from Oscar. She read it so many times it was crumpled and tear-stained but was the most precious thing she owned. She knew every word off by heart.
My darling Jane,
If you’re reading this then you will be devastated. You mustn’t be sad for me – know that I’m in a better place but that I’d much rather be with you.
I love you and I always will. Keep my memory in your heart but don’t grieve for long. You have a job to do and must put your feelings aside and carry on.
I wish we had had longer together but things didn’t work out as we’d hoped. One day you will meet somebody else and fall in love with them. Do so with my blessing. Be happy, my love, but sometimes think of me.
Yours for eternity
She still couldn’t believe Oscar was dead. The thought that she would never see him again was unbearable. Somehow she’d held herself together, said all the right things, collected her kit and headed for his family home. She could have gone to Lattimore but she wanted to be the one to tell his parents and then they could share their grief.
Her journey to this small town, Chalfont Major, had passed in a blur. She arrived at the vicarage on a rattling local bus. She had to stand outside for several minutes gathering herself before trudging up the path and knocking on the front door.
She didn’t know how she was going to break the news but trusted the words would come to her. There was no need for her to say anything apart from her name. The woman who’d opened the door took one look at her and held out her arms.
‘My poor dear, come in, come in. There’s no need to give us the details – that can come later when you’re feeling better. A nice cup of tea is what you need.’
Jane leaned into her embrace, comforted by the fact that this was Oscar’s mother. The one person who would understand exactly how she felt. If she started to cry again she wouldn’t be able to stop. She had to be strong for Oscar’s sake. He would want her to be a comfort to his parents not a burden.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten or drunk anything but still thought she wouldn’t be able to swallow whatever was offered. Her throat was raw. She felt as if she’d swallowed a large stone and it had settled somewhere in the centre of her chest.
A tall man, an older version of Oscar, with the same ash blond curls, but his were sprinkled with grey, appeared from somewhere and took in the situation at a glance. ‘Jane, thank you for coming in person to tell us that our son is dead. It took the most amazing courage and we appreciate what you’ve done for us.’
If he’d started to tell her that his son was in a better place, suggest that they pray together, she couldn’t have borne it. If there was a God then he wouldn’t have taken away the man she loved. He wouldn’t have stood by and allowed someone as monstrous as Hitler to be taking over the world. She had gone to church because it was the one place she’d felt safe but she’d stopped believing in the existence of a higher power by the time she was eleven or twelve years old.
Her prayers that the brutality and abuse would stop went unanswered. The loving God that Mr Jackson had spoken about with such conviction would never have allowed a child to suffer the way she had. She envied those who still believed, but she wasn’t one of them.
She managed to swallow the tea but ignored the slice of cake placed beside it. She sat with her head lowered unable to say anything but then rallied. They’d just heard that their son had died and she couldn’t sit here wallowing in her own misery when they must be suffe
ring unbearably too.
‘I’m so sorry for your loss. Oscar was shot down somewhere in the English Channel and… and his body wasn’t recovered. This happened four days ago but they didn’t declare him dead until this morning. They checked every boat that docked but no one reported having an RAF pilot on board.’ She managed to raise her head and look at them. ‘I didn’t believe it until I got the letter. They only send that out when they’re certain.’
‘My poor child, after all you’ve been through. When I spoke to him last he was so happy – he was looking forward to spending his life with you. You might not have been married but as far as I’m concerned you will always be part of this family. That’s what he would have wanted.’ Mr Stanton cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. He was holding his wife’s hand and she seemed incapable of speech.
‘I’ll stay for the memorial service, but then I must go back and get on with my job. I’ve already had far too much time away from my station.’
Mentioning a service that wouldn’t include a coffin was too much for Mrs Stanton. She broke down and her husband offered what comfort he could.
Jane had slipped away, leaving them to grieve together.
*
That had been yesterday. By the afternoon the house was full of relatives offering sympathy and she wished she hadn’t come. She was a stranger to them, an unnecessary and unwanted guest.
She checked her watch – it was a little after four a.m. and would be light enough to leave. She had already written a letter to the Stantons thanking them for their hospitality and apologising for leaving so abruptly.
Her bag was packed and she was ready to depart. The ancient family dog, a smelly black Labrador, thumped his tail as she walked past his bed but was too lazy to get up and investigate. She put her letter on the kitchen table and then exited by the back door, which was never locked.