by Shirley Mann
Alice peered to see if Lily was telling the truth but Lily wasn’t giving anything away. Alice frowned and took down her pyjamas from behind the door. This wasn’t the Lily she knew, she had become hard and her determination to be top of the class was resulting in a rift between them. Alice was still struggling with Morse and Lily, despite her promises, seemed caught up in her own world and never seemed to have time to help her. The Lily who had been so caring and worried about Amy was a long way away.
By the time two more weeks had passed, Alice had almost given up trying to get through to Lily. The close friendship between them had dwindled to one of polite roommates. Alice realised how lonely she was without her friend but did not know how to get through to the Lily she had once known.
Chapter 17
It was the morning of the final exam, the WAAFs had gathered in the lobby to Olympia and were chatting nervously. Lily stood with her head held high but Alice felt sick. She had tried, really tried to concentrate on the ridiculous little noises that came out of the set but she was still making basic mistakes.
‘Good luck, Lily’, she said gently.
‘Oh, yes, and you,’ Lily replied in an offhand manner.
Alice sighed and started to move up the line towards the rows of desks waiting for them, headsets neatly placed.
Marion whispered from behind, ‘Where’s Viv?’
They looked round and scanned the line of girls but there was no sign of her. They all sat down but there was one desk empty that morning and from time to time Marion and Alice glanced over at the vacant space. The examiner then announced they would have until noon to finish their papers and counted them down to start, leaving them little time to worry about anything except the Morse that had started to come faster and faster in their earphones.
Alice felt panic rising in her stomach and tried to concentrate on the signals coming through. The expected speed was six words a minute and by the time the clock struck twelve, there were quite a few gaps in her transcribing. She looked back over her work.
‘I think I’ve just about done it, but I hope the RAF doesn’t rely on me to get its planes home.’
Lily was already standing up, looking, Alice thought grimly, ridiculously confident.
They went straight towards the mess for dinner. Alice was suddenly ravenous. It was cauliflower cheese and she tucked in. The chatter was all about the test and Alice announced she didn’t care anymore. She had done her best and if the war effort didn’t like it, then it could lump it. Her cows were missing her and she could always go home.
There was going to be a party that night and even Lily had promised to join them to celebrate the approaching end of their course. Their heads were bent as they talked about their plans for going out so none of them heard Warrant Officer Hales approaching.
‘Attention!’
There was a scramble as they all got to their feet and saluted. Even Lily was getting quicker at it.
‘I need Mullins, Hill and Colville. Follow me.’
With a puzzled glance at each other, Lily, Marion and Alice obeyed, following her into the foyer where Viv, looking pale and tired, was standing next to Doug. They were both in their uniforms but each had a small pansy attached to their lapel. Viv was also holding a small bunch of them in front of her.
‘We’re getting married,’ she chirped in a high-pitched tone. ‘And we want you to be witnesses.’
Lily looked sharply at Doug who caught her eye for a second and then looked down at the floor.
‘Well, that’s a bit sudden,’ Marion said. ‘What brought this on?’
‘We just want to be together that’s all,’ Viv said, grabbing Doug’s arm. ‘Come on, we’re due at the register office at one, we’ll have to hurry.’ And she started off towards the front door, leaving them all to follow in her wake.
The little group of girls turned to WO Hales who nodded, dug in her pocket for passes, and handed them out without saying a word.
They ran to catch up with Viv, who was heading down the street at a fast pace. Lily reached out to catch Doug’s arm and pulled him back, looking at him quizzically.
‘It’s your fault,’ he whispered bitterly, glancing to Viv, who was skipping along ahead. ‘If you hadn’t split up with me, I’d never have been in this position.’
‘Is she pregnant?’ Lily demanded in a whisper.
‘Yes, of course she’s bloody pregnant, you don’t think I’d be doing this if she wasn’t, do you?’
‘Well, it’s not my fault. You idiot.’
‘Come on, we’ll be late,’ Viv called over her shoulder.
Lily dropped back, letting her hand fall from his shoulder and Alice almost ran into her.
‘Lily, what the hell’s going on?’
‘I’ll tell you later’ Lily said, but her face had gone pale.
The wedding was a rushed affair, almost as if Viv was worried that Doug would run off if she gave him any time to think. He muttered ‘I do’ and then they retired to the Clifton Arms to have sausage rolls and cider. Viv made a great show of throwing her little bouquet of pansies over her shoulder towards Lily, Alice and Marion. Lily didn’t even try to catch them, but Marion lurched forward and grabbed them.
The happy couple were allowed to go back to married quarters, so it was a subdued trio who curled up on their beds in their pyjamas at Mrs Porter’s that night. The discarded bouquet was in a jug on the table next to Viv’s empty bed.
It took Marion to speak first.
‘Well, that was a turn up for the book. I suppose that’s her out of the WAAFs now.’
‘Yes, well, it will be when the baby arrives,’ Lily said.
The other two nodded. They had worked that one out. Alice and Marion started to talk about the past few weeks, pin-pointing events that now took on a new significance. The times Doug and Viv had disappeared on the way home, under the cover of the blackout, the proprietary way Viv had treated Doug when they were in a crowd and how recently she had spent far too much time in the toilet first thing in the morning. The future of the pair was dissected and debated and it was agreed that the fact that Doug would have to move on shortly to take up his position on a ship was decidedly not a good start to married life.
It was later in the evening when Marion was snoring contentedly on the other side of the room that Alice tackled Lily.
‘OK, Lily Mullins, tell all.’
There was a short silence before Lily started to fill Alice in on the events of the past couple of months. Alice kept quiet until she had finished, hearing the catch in Lily’s voice as she described what had happened in the dark doorway. She crept out of bed and moved across to Lily’s bed, pushing back the blanket to sit next to her friend. She put her arm around her just as Lily started to sob.
‘It’s my fault, I should have said something. I knew how he was and I could have warned her. He was holding in so much anger and passion, he wasn’t thinking straight.’
‘Well she knew exactly what she was doing,’ Alice said, in her matter of fact tones. ‘She wanted to get out of this war and this was her exit pass. She’s got what she wants – a man, a baby and an escape route from Morse.’
This made Lily smile reluctantly in the dark.
‘I’m sorry, Alice, I’ve been horrible. I just had to shut off from everything. I couldn’t believe how shaken I was. I’ve never had a man touch me like that before and it frightened me.’
The two girls talked well into the night. Under the cover of darkness, they talked openly, revealing their sheltered upbringings and how the WAAFs had opened up a strange, new world for them. It was bringing them into contact with people they had never come across before and they were both re-evaluating.
‘I have so much to do, Alice,’ Lily finished, ‘until I came here, I was happy to just work at Liners until I married and had children but now, I’m not so sure.’
‘I know, I was destined for a life on the hills, wearing wellies, but I’ve found I’m really good at technical things and
I’m beginning to think there must be more I can do – preferably indoors and out of the rain!’
They gave each other a hug and as Alice tiptoed back to her own bed, she added quietly, ‘I’m glad you’re back, Mullins, I’ve missed you!’
Chapter 18
4th April, 1943
Dear Lily,
You’ll be glad to know I am out of hospital and back on duty. Perhaps I shouldn’t have rushed to get back! We’re moving on so quickly at the moment, there never seems to be a minute to take in where we are and certainly not much time to write. The towns where we stay just start to become familiar and hey presto, we’re on the move again. It’s unsettling and sometimes I can’t remember which country we’re in. At least we stay together as a group, which helps. I can’t imagine what it must be like if you have to keep leaving friends behind – because you do make real friends in these circumstances, don’t you? I hope you’ve found some nice friends, to say you’re naturally chatty would be a polite way of putting it, so I am quite confident you are finding people you can get on with. You certainly need people to have a good laugh with and to keep this war in proportion.
Jones and Jenkins are saving my life. Not sure about my sanity, but their ridiculous sense of humour is certainly keeping me going! Last week, ENSA put on a show and we three volunteered to be the three witches from Macbeth in a comedy version – well it was never going to be a serious one, was it? It was hysterical and I can honestly say we went down a storm. My ‘toad’ ingredient was a dead rat we had put a green beret on and it became the star of the show! I’ve discovered I have a secret side to me . . . I love dressing up and playing a part. I was always in the school plays, you know, usually as a shepherd with a checked tea towel on my head, but making people laugh was a great tonic for me, blow the audience! I may have to join Sale Operatic when I get back. I’ll book you in for the opening night!
I finally caught up with some mail from home this week and I got your letter as well, so thanks for that. It was really good to get all your news, and news from Mum too. Manchester has been a bit quieter than usual, so that’s a relief and Mum’s found a good supply of bruised fruit, so she’s thrilled and has been busy making purée puds, but Dad’s just been moaning that there isn’t any pastry around it. Mum says she’s banned him from mentioning apple pie more than once a day! He’s really busy with his warden role but is feeling frustrated he can’t join up. He did his bit last time, but I think he does envy me sometimes. He can have it! I’ll sell it to the lowest bidder!
Time to go, I’ve got to go on the stage in this ridiculous comedy we’re all in. Write soon. I do look forward to hearing all about those spam fritters.
Love,
Danny
It was hard to remain so positive at times, Danny thought, folding the letter into the envelope. The Macbeth show had been a desperate attempt by ENSA to cheer the men up. The fighting in Tunisia had been relentless and, in reality, the show had been a hurried, almost frantic evening, thrown together while they were preparing for the invasion of Sicily. He had heard of the plight of thousands of Italian troops who had been captured and knew that the British captives did not get such humane treatment. Since his close call in the desert, Danny had felt his odds of surviving the war were becoming more and more limited and he was having to fight against a feeling of hopelessness. Acting the fool in the Macbeth show had been a useful mask against reality. He sighed and tried to remember the words his father had uttered as he saw him off at the station that first morning. ‘Remember you’re a Jackson and we stand tall no matter what life throws at us. You will survive, God willing, but make sure your spirit survives too. The first is out of your hands, the second isn’t.
Danny got back into his tank transporter, started up the familiar throaty engine, and thrust the unwilling gear stick into first gear. There was only one way forward.
It was a couple of weeks before he had time to write again.
18th April, 1943
Dear Lily,
I hope you’re well and enjoying some nice late summer weather. I’m fine. Still managing to keep my head down. It’s either full-on action or we’re hanging round for hours, which is what’s happening at the moment, but at least it gives me time to write to you. We’ve been in the same place for about a month now and we’re ready to get back on the road. It’s stupid really, we should be appreciating the lull, but to be honest, we feel that if we sit around here for much longer, then we’re not helping the war to finish. I’ve been quite bored really, there’s only so many times you can strip an engine down and put it back together but it has given me time to dare to think beyond this war and I keep dreaming of being back in Manchester – that is if the Jerries have left us a bit of it to enjoy! It would be nice to walk in Heaton Park. We could take Patch and Mutt, they’d love it! I bet you’re fully trained now and strutting round in that uniform. I hope you’re taking care of yourself.
Jenkins and Jones are in good form, but another guy had to get married, a Polish girl he met here is pregnant. It’s a scandal, as you can imagine, and certainly gave everyone something to talk about. Apparently, he only met her once and they can hardly communicate, but now they are having a baby together. He’s having to do the honourable thing and marry her and they’ll have to spend their lives together, probably in her country once the war is over. He doesn’t speak the language and the culture is certainly different. Believe me, her dad’s letters indicated he wasn’t having it any other way! So they’ll have to make a go of it. Talking of babies, there was a woman the other day who stopped us en route and begged us to give her some dried milk for her baby. Needless to say, we’ve had black tea all week! You could give all your food away, they’re so desperate, but we get into real trouble if we do and there are regular inspections to make sure we have supplies. An army marches on its stomach, we keep getting told. Well, mine’s empty most of the time, so it’s a good job I’m driving a tank transporter, I wouldn’t get very far walking!
Take care, keep your head down when you’re strutting around!
Love,
Danny
Danny, Frank and Eddie had sat round the night after the wedding, quieter than usual and more pensive. Frank spoke first.
‘So lads, how are we going to cope with another God knows how many years without sex?’
They all looked at each other. It was a valid point.
All in their early twenties, being celibate was not a state any of them would have chosen, and there had been raucous comments about the lack of complaints about cold showers that were rigged up behind the latrines. But, like their fathers before them, sex was something that belonged in marriage and any fumblings before that had to be with a certain type of girl.
Eddie looked pathetically into the gloom of the warm autumn evening.
‘It’s no wonder I am happy to fly at those Jerries, I’ve got so much aggression building up in me.’
They all nodded in agreement, hand-to-hand combat had been a strange way of relieving their frustration, but in a way it had given them a temporary respite from those pent up sexual urges.
‘It’s bloody tempting to give in to those girls,’ Eddie went on. ‘They’re certainly good looking and up for it. Some of them will do anything for food.’
Danny agreed but quickly reminded his friends of the rising number of soldiers who were hauled out of line during the regular sexual disease checks.
‘You’re all right, you’ve got that nice girl you keep writing to, what’s her name, Lily?’ Eddie said to Danny. ‘At least you’ve got a reason to behave.’
Danny smiled mysteriously at them all. He never discussed Lily with them, not wanting her to become a topic of soldier gossip. She was more special than that.
‘The rest of us just can’t win,’ Eddie added glumly.
‘No, we’d better just win this war and then we can go and find ourselves wives,’ Frank laughed, getting up to get yet another cup of black tea.
Chapter 19
The girls’ time at Blackpool was over all too soon. They had completed their three-hour tests to match them with an area that would suit their abilities. The test had consisted of a section on maths, general knowledge and an aptitude test. Lily had scraped through the maths questions.
Lily packed her bag once more but this time she was going to be on her own and she was very nervous. She proudly fingered her new badge that denoted her as Aircraftwoman, Second Class and looked round at the empty room. The others had all had to catch the early transport and the stripped beds seemed to make the room echo as Lily moved quietly around sorting out her bag. The goodbyes had been rushed, and all too soon Lily had been left alone in the room. She picked up her duffel bag, slung her gas mask strap over her shoulder and paused momentarily to look back before she closed the door, imagining for the last time the five of them all jostling while they got dressed or bickering about who had the curlers.
Walking slowly down the stairs, Lily edged to one side out of habit to avoid the creaky step and made her way to the hallway. Mrs Porter was coming into the back kitchen from the outhouse with the washing, undoubtedly getting ready for the next intake. She barely glanced up and just nodded a cursory goodbye, too occupied with sorting the sheets and pillowcases on the kitchen table. Lily walked out of the front door and closed it quietly behind her. Her footsteps resounded on the pavement in the stillness of the morning air and the only other sound was the mocking squawk of Blackpool’s seagulls from above. She stood at the bus stop feeling tears prickling the back of her eyes and blinked. The rail warrant in her hand was first for Cranwell and then onto East Kirkby, a Bomber Command station. She should have been excited but all she felt now was sadness – sadness that she was leaving a group of girls who had become like family to her and also that she now had to grow up and stand on her own feet.
The platform was a mass of service people, which helped Lily merge with the sea of khaki, blue and brown crowding onto the train. On one side of the carriage were four naval men who made the usual jokes about how she could sit on their lap. She ignored them and found a few square inches next to the window on the opposite side, next to some other WAAFS who were all chatting excitedly. They too were bound for Cranwell but were then, they told her, going on to Metheringham, a station further down the road. Claiming a splitting headache, she gave only brief answers to their questions and stared out of the window. The countryside seemed to fly by. It was late summer 1943 and the fields were looking slightly parched. She tried to recognise towns and villages as the train sped through but they were all new to her. The land gradually became flatter and the skies looked enormous. As ever, there was a constant buzz of chatter in the crowded compartment but for once Lily did not join in, needing her own thoughts to be clear and uninterrupted to gradually assimilate the move from Blackpool. The intensity of being with the same people for several months had made the move to East Kirkby feel like being turfed out of a door into a freezing cold day without a coat.
