The Brooklands Girls

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘Thank you for telling me. You’ve made me feel a little better. Perhaps he didn’t suffer as I’ve been imagining.’

  ‘Even if he wasn’t killed outright, we did our best to alleviate their pain, I promise you, even when there was no hope of recovery.’

  Muriel nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she said huskily. She cleared her throat and said more strongly, ‘I’ll tell you something, Pips Maitland. You can drive my car any time you want to.’

  Eleven

  As they left Brooklands later that day, instead of returning to London, Paul took the two girls to the Fortesques’ home on the outskirts of Weybridge. The manor was a large country house, set back from the road and surrounded by well-kept lawns and trees.

  Henry Fortesque was tall, with an upright bearing. He had a moustache and piercing blue eyes that seemed to bore into Pips’s soul. But he was smiling as he held out his hand. ‘You are very welcome, Pips. We know how you looked after our girl at the front and we’re grateful. Come and meet my wife Victoria, who, I should warn you, does not like her name to be shortened.’ He led the way into a large, sunny drawing room where a woman, whom Pips guessed to be in her late forties, jumped up from a sofa and came towards them, hands outstretched. She was an older version of Milly, with blond, short, curly hair, a pretty, doll-like face and blue eyes. She was bubbly and promised to be full of fun – just like her daughter – but Pips guessed her zany exterior hid a steely strength when it was needed – again, just like Milly.

  ‘My dear Pips, how welcome you are. Sit down, beside me. Have you enjoyed your day at Brooklands?’

  ‘It was wonderful, Mrs Fortesque, thank you.’

  ‘Muriel has promised her a drive in her car,’ Milly said.

  Henry Fortesque blinked. ‘Muriel Denton has? Good Heavens – you must have been a hit with her. I’ve never heard of her allowing anyone else to drive her beloved Napier.’

  Milly linked her arm through her father’s. ‘I think, Daddy, it was when Muriel found out that Pips had been nursing near the Somme, where her husband died.’

  ‘Ah, that might explain it, then.’

  As they sat down on a sofa opposite, the door opened and a maid carried in a tea tray. ‘We always make sure we wait for afternoon tea until Milly gets here when she’s been at Brooklands. Thank you, Mary, and would you tell Granny Fortesque that we are having tea in the drawing room, please?’

  The girl bobbed a curtsy and left the room, whilst Victoria handed around plates, cakes and poured tea. As she was passing a cup to Pips, the door opened and an elderly lady, though still slim and straight-backed, with white hair piled on top of her head in neat curls, entered the room. She wore a long-sleeved, high-necked dress, similar in style, Pips couldn’t help thinking, to those favoured by Queen Mary. As if indeed she were the Queen, everyone rose to greet her.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mama,’ Henry said, offering her his place on the sofa.

  But, with a wave of her hand, the imperious lady brushed him aside. ‘You know very well, Henry, that I prefer the winged chair near the fire. If I get down onto that thing, I’ll never get up again without a crane.’

  Milly rushed to her and planted a kiss on both her wrinkled cheeks. ‘Darling, Granny. How are you?’

  Granny Fortesque – as Pips had now realized who she was – tutted quietly and yet there was the hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. ‘Always so effusive, aren’t you, my dear? How they coped with you at the front, I shudder to think. And whatever have you done to your hair? Let me see.’

  Milly stood meekly in front of her grandmother and submitted to her scrutiny. Pips held her breath, but, to her surprise, the older woman nodded and said, ‘It’s rather daring, but I must admit it suits you, Milly. I’ve seen pictures of girls with straight hair with this style, and I didn’t like it, but because your hair is naturally curly, it frames your face. It’s really quite sweet.’

  When she was settled in her chair, everyone sat down again. Now Granny’s sharp eyes alighted on Pips. ‘And who have we here? Please introduce her, Henry. And yes, Victoria, I’ll have lemon tea as usual, if you please.’

  ‘Mama, may I introduce Miss Philippa Maitland – known as Pips. She is Milly’s friend. They were in Belgium together. Pips, this is my mother, Eleanor Fortesque.’

  ‘“Pips”? It sounds like something you find in an orange. I shall call you Philippa.’

  Pips rose again, crossed the space between them and held out her hand. ‘As does my mother, Mrs Fortesque.’ She smiled. ‘How do you do?’

  ‘Please call me “Granny Fortesque” or we’ll get muddled up between my daughter-in-law and me.’

  They shook hands and Pips sat down again beside Milly’s mother.

  ‘Where were you both in Belgium? Safely behind the lines, I take it. And whatever did my scatter-brained, flighty granddaughter actually do to help the war effort?’

  Pips stared at her. Did no one back here understand just what Milly had done? Had she told them nothing? Pips set her cup carefully on the low coffee table and met the older woman’s steady gaze. Milly’s parents were listening intently too, though out of the corner of her eye, Pips caught sight of Milly shaking her head frantically.

  ‘Milly came out just after her aunt and uncle, Mr and Mrs Wallis, joined our flying ambulance early in 1917. My brother lost his arm towards the end of the Battle of the Somme and he and Alice, who was a nurse in our corps, had gone home. Then – two more left.’ Once again, she did not say that it had been Giles’s departure with Rose that had left the corps depleted.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about your brother. What rank was he?’

  ‘He wasn’t in the army. He was a doctor with the corps.’

  Eleanor Fortesque frowned. ‘Then how did he become so seriously injured? Was it the shelling?’

  ‘No, he went into no-man’s-land to pick up the wounded and was hit by a sniper.’

  ‘Pips went out to rescue him. Wasn’t she brave?’ Milly said, desperately trying to steer the conversation away from herself.

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought they’d have allowed you to do that.’

  Now Pips laughed. ‘They didn’t, but because we were an independent flying ambulance corps, we came under no one else’s authority but our own.’

  ‘Then you were very foolhardy, Philippa.’

  ‘But he would have died if we hadn’t got to him quickly.’

  ‘He wasn’t the only one she rescued . . .’ Milly went on, but Pips interrupted. ‘This isn’t about me, Milly dear. It’s about you and what you did.’

  ‘Oh Pips, don’t. Please don’t.’

  Pips stared at her for a moment and seeing genuine tears in the girl’s eyes, she got up and went to sit beside her on the other sofa. She took Milly’s hand and said softly, ‘Why not, Milly?’

  ‘I – because we shouldn’t talk about what happened out there. We – no one does. We – we should protect them.’

  ‘Dearest Milly – I don’t like to hear you described as scatter-brained and flighty.’ Pips smiled. ‘Perhaps, back here, you are, but out there, you were anything but that and your family and your friends have a right to know that they should be justly proud of you.’

  Through her tears, Milly suddenly giggled. ‘But you’ll ruin my reputation, Pips. I’m an empty-headed party girl.’

  ‘Here, maybe, but out there – never!’

  ‘Millicent,’ Eleanor said, ‘I would like to hear what your friend has to say . . .’ She met Pips’s gaze with a steely stare. ‘And then I shall make my own mind up as to what description you deserve. Pray continue, Philippa.’

  ‘Oh Pips,’ Milly said again and hid her face against Pips’s shoulder. Pips put her arm around her friend, but had no intention of not continuing.

  ‘Milly had no formal nursing training when she came out to the front, but she was a tonic in other ways. She lifted the spirits of the casualties and our – by then – rather jaded members of the corps. She met the wounded being brought to our adva
nced first-aid post and comforted them as best she could until she could pass them on to a professional medical person. Even when she was covered in their blood and exhausted after long hours on duty, she never failed to smile, give a cheery word or gently hold the hand of the dying. And the soldiers loved to hear her singing and doing her impressions of the music hall artists.’ Pips raised her eyebrows. ‘I expect you do know that she’s a wonderful mimic?’

  Eleanor gave a brief nod. ‘Go on.’

  ‘In the privacy of our tent, she would shed tears over all she had witnessed, all the terrible sights she’d seen and the ones we couldn’t save, but never once did she let the soldiers see that.’

  There was silence in the room for several minutes when Pips fell silent. Milly remained where she was with her face buried against Pips’s shoulder.

  At last, Eleanor spoke in a voice that, strangely, was not quite steady. ‘Millicent, come here.’

  Milly’s head shot up and for a moment she looked frightened. Pips almost laughed aloud. It seemed the young woman was far more afraid of her fearsome grandmother than ever she had been of German guns and shells. As Milly rose and went to kneel in front of Granny Fortesque, Pips saw Henry and Victoria exchange a glance, but not knowing them well yet, she could not read anything in the look. Eleanor leaned forward and cupped her hands around Milly’s face. ‘My dear child, I owe you an apology . . .’

  ‘Oh Granny, you don’t need to say that.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I have misjudged you. I am extremely proud of you as I am sure your mother and father are too. Will you forgive me – forgive us all?’

  ‘There’s nothing to forgive, Granny. Really. I really am all the things you said. I am flighty and pleasure seeking; a party girl – a flapper.’

  ‘Perhaps so, but obviously, much more besides than we have given you credit for.’ She stooped forward and kissed Milly’s forehead, adding quietly, ‘Some time – when you feel like talking about it – I would like to hear more, but I understand that perhaps just now it is too raw for you.’

  Milly nodded and then got up off her knees and went to sit down beside her father, who, though he squeezed her hand, said nothing. Now, Eleanor turned her gaze on Pips.

  ‘And as for you, young woman . . .’

  Pips held her breath, thinking she had offended her hosts. But suddenly, the old lady smiled and it was like the sun appearing from behind a cloud. ‘I thank you for your temerity in standing up for your friend against a formidable old woman. I admire you for that and you will be welcome in this house at any time. In fact, I hope you will visit us often. And now,’ she added, getting up stiffly from her chair, ‘I will have a brief rest in my room before dinner.’

  Shortly afterwards, Milly took Pips to her room. ‘Are you dreadfully angry with me?’ Pips asked her in a small voice.

  ‘Oh darling, no, of course I’m not. In a way, I’m glad you said what you did. I find it awfully difficult to tell anyone what happened out there and especially talking about myself. I could tell them all about you and the others, but not about me.’ She giggled. ‘But now they all know – my family and everyone at Brooklands – even Paul, and that’s why I intend to have fun now. We should grab enjoyment while we can.’

  ‘I agree, but I still think we should try to do something to help soldiers who can’t find work for one reason or another.’

  Milly wrinkled her forehead. ‘Why don’t you find Dr Hazelwood and ask his advice? Your father is still in touch with him, isn’t he?’

  Pips stared at her. ‘D’you know, Milly Fortesque, sometimes you are absolutely brilliant.’

  Milly fluffed her hair and laughed. ‘Don’t go telling anyone, darling. You’ll ruin my reputation completely.’

  Over dinner that evening, there was no more talk of the war, only of the future.

  ‘Will you continue to manufacture at Brooklands, Mr Fortesque?’ Pips asked.

  ‘Oh yes. I don’t know how much Milly has told you about the company.’

  ‘Not much,’ Pips smiled, ‘she seems rather shy about it.’

  Henry chuckled. ‘I expect she doesn’t want to appear boastful, but Vickers developed the Vickers Vimy, a long-range bomber that, I’m pleased to say, was not needed as the war ended before it went into service.’

  Pips pulled a face. ‘That’s good, I suppose, but did it affect your company?’

  ‘We thought it might, but we were fortunate that we could then turn our efforts to civilian aviation. Last year – I don’t know if you heard about it – the Daily Mail offered a £10,000 prize for the first flight across the Atlantic.’

  ‘Of course. I knew I’d heard the name Vimy before. My brother and I followed the news avidly, but, please, go on. I’d like to hear it from your side.’

  ‘Tommy Sopwith, who was also a major manufacturer of aircraft for the war effort and also at Brooklands, and his company, along with ourselves and one or two other manufacturers, entered.’

  ‘And you won.’ Pips couldn’t stop herself.

  Henry smiled benignly and nodded graciously. ‘Winning a well-publicized event like that can be worth a thousand advertisements.’

  ‘It was a fantastic achievement.’

  There was a pause until Granny Fortesque asked, ‘And what do you hope to do with your life, Philippa? Are you going to continue to be a party girl, like Milly?’ She had the grace to smile across the table at her granddaughter. Now there was no censure in her tone, only a gentle teasing.

  ‘D’you know, Granny Fortesque, at this precise moment, I haven’t any idea. Like Milly, I suppose, I just want to have a good time for a while, though I can’t see it fulfilling me for very long. I always wanted to train to be a doctor, like my brother, but my mother wouldn’t hear of it.’

  Eleanor was silent for a moment before saying, ‘I can understand that, I suppose, though, with no disrespect to your mother, I don’t think I would have agreed with her.’ She leaned across the table and said in a stage whisper, ‘I was a secret suffragette, you know. My family never knew, but I used to attend some of Mrs Pankhurst’s meetings before the war.’ She gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘But, of course, that’s all gone now that women have been given the vote – well, some of them, anyway.’ She sat back and, almost tongue-in-cheek, suggested, ‘You could, of course, stand for Parliament.’

  Pips chuckled. ‘I could, but, you see, I don’t seem to fit into the views of any particular party. I like some Tory ideals and some liberal ones, and as for this new labour party that’s growing, well, I can sympathize with some of their aims too.’

  ‘So, for the moment, you’re going to continue with a life of idle pleasure.’

  Pips grinned, liking the old lady more and more. ‘’Fraid so, Granny Fortesque.’

  Twelve

  The promised drive for Pips around the Brooklands track took place the following weekend. They were all there: Milly, Paul, Mitch and Muriel – and she had brought along another young woman.

  ‘I want you to meet Pattie Henderson, Pips,’ Muriel said. ‘She’s a racer too.’

  Pips shook hands with the woman whom she gauged to be a little older than Muriel, in her late thirties or maybe even her early forties. She had dark brown hair and brown eyes and a very firm handshake.

  ‘Muriel and I – along with a few others including Milly, who, although she doesn’t drive, is an honorary member – are known as “the Brooklands Girls”.’ Pattie laughed and her eyes twinkled with merriment. ‘Are you going to join us?’

  ‘Let’s see how she drives first,’ Muriel said. ‘Driving round Brooklands isn’t quite the same as driving an ambulance in the war.’

  Pattie’s eyes widened. ‘Is that what you did? My word! Well, there’s one thing, Muriel, she’s obviously got no fear. Come on, let’s have a tootle round.’

  ‘She can drive my car, if you’d rather, Muriel,’ Mitch offered, but she waved him away. ‘No, no, I’m not one to go back on my promises. Just don’t crash it, Pips.’

  It was arran
ged that Pattie should go first and that Pips should follow her track line. In a borrowed suit and leather helmet, Pips climbed in behind the wheel, her heart thudding, her palms sweaty with excitement. They set off steadily, but when Pattie saw that Pips was following her faithfully and keeping pace, she increased the speed – once, twice, three times – until they were both tearing round the track almost as fast as if they were in a real race.

  Pips felt the power of the car and knew – had she been inclined – that she could have surged past Pattie, but she was not going to show off. At least, not today!

  As Pattie slowed and pulled over to where their group of friends was waiting, Pips drew in behind her. They surrounded her car.

  ‘Oh darling – that was wonderful. You went so fast.’

  ‘You’re a natural.’ Mitch grinned.

  ‘If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes,’ Paul said, ‘I wouldn’t have believed it. It normally takes years for someone to reach that proficiency. You handled the car like a pro.’

  Pips felt a rush of pride, but it was Muriel’s approval she sought. As Pattie climbed out of her car and joined them, Muriel said, ‘Pattie, meet the latest recruit to the Brooklands Girls.’

  ‘So, you need to buy yourself a car now,’ Mitch said. ‘I’ve heard of one going for a reasonable price. He’s a mate of mine, so he’ll treat us fairly. Well, actually, he’s a mate of Paul’s really. Michael’s his name and he lives near to Paul’s family’s farm. But I know him well.’

  ‘Is there anyone you’re not mates with?’ Pips chuckled.

  ‘Not many in the racing world – or the flying fraternity either, for that matter. That’s the next thing we must do. Take you flying.’

  ‘When?’ Pips asked mischievously.

  ‘Whenever you say the word.’

  Pips gasped and her eyes widened. ‘You’re on – the very next time I come down to stay with Milly.’

  Mitch frowned. ‘Oh, are you going back to Lincolnshire? I thought you’d moved in with Milly.’