by Rosie Hendry
‘I went to your ambulance station, number 75, and they said that you,’ his eyes met Bella’s, ‘were here. Remember we met at Aldwych?’
Bella nodded. ‘Yes, you were very kind and helped me and Frankie.’
‘We don’t usually get visits from people who help us at incidents,’ Winnie said. ‘So, what brings you here?’
‘Winnie!’ Frankie said. ‘You’ll have to excuse our friend, she’s rather direct at times.’
The Polish airman smiled. ‘Is good to be direct, I think, so I will be. My name is Stefan Kaminski and you please tell me your names.’
‘I’m Winnie, this is Frankie, and Bella,’ Winnie said, pointing at her friends.
‘Then I would like to ask you, Bella, if you would do me the honour of coming to a dance with me?’ His striking cornflower-blue eyes fixed on hers as he held out the bunch of flowers to her, with a small bow.
Bella’s cheeks grew warm and she ignored the nudge in her arms from both Winnie and Frankie who stood either side of her. She was lost for words for a few moments, completely taken aback by his invitation.
‘Bella would love to—’ Winnie began.
Her friend’s words spurred her into action. ‘I’m sorry but I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Bella said, steeling herself against the look of disappointment on Stefan’s face.
‘Why ever not?’ Winnie said. ‘It would do you good to go out dancing.’
‘No!’ Bella said. ‘But thank you for asking.’ She wanted to turn round and run back to Station 75 but, before she could leave, Winnie took the bunch of flowers from Stefan and thrust them into her hands.
‘All right, if you don’t want to go dancing, how about going for a cup of tea with Stefan now? There’s a little café just around the corner, perfect for a cuppa,’ Winnie suggested. ‘Frankie and I can finish up here.’
‘A cup of tea together would be good,’ Stefan agreed.
Bella considered for a moment, looking down at the bunch of summer flowers which were beautiful, the scent of the fragrant sweet peas amongst them perfuming the air. It would be churlish and rude to refuse to at least have a cup of tea with him since he’d gone to all the trouble of coming here, bringing her flowers, and had helped them at Aldwych. ‘All right, a cup of tea, thank you.’
‘Excellent, we’ll see you back at Station 75 in a while then,’ Winnie said. ‘Don’t hurry back.’
‘We’re goin’ to take a long time to get this finished if you carry on at the rate you’re going,’ Frankie said.
Winnie tore her eyes away from the retreating backs of Bella and Stefan as they walked back past the Tower of London towards the little café. She was delighted that her friend had attracted the attention of a handsome airman – Bella had shut herself off from any chance of love for long enough. ‘I’ll catch up in a minute, don’t worry.’
Frankie sat back on her heels beside the vegetable bed. ‘Do you think Bella’s done the right thing?’
‘Absolutely. She’s mourned for James quite long enough, it’s time she had some fun again, some love from a good man in her life again.’
‘How do we know if Stefan is a good man? I’d hate to see Bella get hurt again.’
‘I think he is for several reasons. Firstly, he was there helping at Aldwych, it wasn’t very pleasant and plenty of people would have gone the other way rather than help and have to see what was there; and secondly, Trixie likes him. She’s a wonderful judge of character, aren’t you?’ She stroked Trixie’s ears as the little dog had heard her name mentioned and come over to her mistress for some attention.
‘But ain’t Polish airmen supposed to be rather . . . dashing and cavalier and have a reputation from their love of enjoyin’ the company of many different women? Their manners alone make them stand out from British fellas.’
‘Well he has got impeccable manners,’ Winnie laughed. ‘I love all that bowing and clicking of heels, besides, bringing Bella a bunch of flowers was lovely. I know some Polish pilots have the reputation of wooing many women, I remember Harry telling me that some of the other pilots in his squadron used to pretend to be Polish because they got so much female attention. Not surprising since they seem to be better at courting women than British chaps are. He also spoke very highly of the Poles in his squadron, said they were grand chaps, very courageous, brave as lions and terrifically good pilots.’ She smiled at Frankie. ‘Don’t worry, I have every intention of keeping a close eye on Bella. I won’t let anybody hurt her, regardless of whether they click heels and bow.’
‘I suppose it’s only a cup of tea they’ve gone to ’ave, so let’s not jump the gun on this, although it would be lovely for Bella to fall in love with a decent fella, she misses James badly.’
‘I know. She’s buried herself away in her writing for far too long but perhaps now it’s time for her to find some love again, and why not with the handsome Stefan?’
Chapter 28
Bella wasn’t in the habit of going to cafés, or anywhere else for that matter, with men she knew nothing about. It felt odd and awkward to be sitting here opposite Stefan who had been nothing but considerate, kind and polite since he’d arrived at the allotment.
‘Cheers.’ Stefan held up his cup of tea in salute to her. ‘And thank you for coming here with me, I must seem very . . . ’ He paused, searching for the right word, ‘bold to arrive and ask you go to dance. I not do this before but . . . ’ He looked down at the table for a few moments, fiddling with a teaspoon on his saucer, before looking up and meeting her eyes. ‘I think about you a lot since I see you at Aldwych last week, there’s something about you that is so. . . ’ He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Bella’s cheeks grew warm again, she wasn’t used to this sort of attention. She fixed her eyes on his wings badge on the front of his tunic for a moment, noticing how different it was from the British RAF pilots’ which she’d seen on Winnie’s brother Harry’s uniform. This one was in the form of an eagle with drooping wings carrying a wreath. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes. ‘How did you know where to find me?’
‘I see the number on your ambulance – Station 75. I find out where it is and come and find you there, but they say you not there but at allotment.’
‘Who told you where to find me?’
‘I don’t know, he sit by the garage reading newspaper.’
‘Did he have brown hair and a cigarette tucked behind his ear?’ Bella asked.
Stefan nodded.
‘That was Sparky then. Did he quiz you about why you wanted to find me?’
‘Yes.’ He smiled. ‘But don’t worry, I not say.’
‘Good, or I’d never hear the end of it. Sparky’s an excellent crew member, but he does love a good gossip.’ Bella took a sip of tea, thinking she rather liked the considerate way Stefan had dealt with Sparky. ‘Thank you for your help at Aldwych, it helped us to get the casualties to hospital that bit quicker, we aren’t often lucky enough to get assistance from other people.’
‘I glad to help, was bad place for a witch to land, so many people around.’
Bella frowned. ‘A witch?’
He smiled at her. ‘Is what we call doodlebugs. We do best to shoot them down before they get to London.’
‘What do you fly?’ Bella asked.
‘A Spitfire.’ He beamed. ‘I love it, is marvellous machine.’
‘Winnie’s brother used to fly a Spitfire till he got hit during the Battle of Britain. He was badly burnt and bailed out into the sea. He was lucky to survive.’
A shadow passed across Stefan’s face.
Bella put a hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.’
Stefan’s eyes met hers. ‘Is fine, is what happens sometimes, I lost good friends. Your friend’s brother was lucky, many are not.’ He paused for a moment, sombre-faced, before smiling again. ‘So, we must enjoy life for them and us. Tell me, Bella, you always live in London?’
‘No, I grew up in the countryside
. My father was a gardener on a big estate and I only came to London after he died because I needed a job, so I came to work as a housemaid. I’d wanted to be a teacher, but I had to find work and somewhere to live and a home of sorts went with the job. I hated it. When the war started, I was very glad to leave service and join the Ambulance Service.’
Stefan nodded sympathetically. ‘After war you become a teacher, live your dream, yes?’
Bella smiled. ‘I have another dream now, and I’ve already started to fulfil it and, if I can, I want to carry on and do more after the war. I love it very much and it feels the right thing for me to do.’
‘What is it?’
‘I love to write and want to earn my living as a writer. I’ve already sold stories to magazines and had articles in newspapers, and I’d like to write novels as well.’
‘I wish you great success.’
‘What about you?’ Bella asked. ‘Did you grow up in a city or the countryside?’
‘In Warsaw, my father has shop and I go to work with him but then I see aeroplane . . . ’ he smiled, ‘then I want to be a pilot. I get a place to train and become fighter pilot in 1939 and then the Nazis came.’ The shadow passed over his face again as he tapped his fingers on the table, before sighing and looking at Bella and shrugging. ‘We fight hard, but their planes better . . . faster, and they had more than us, we outnumbered . . . we had no planes to replace the ones shot down. It was bad, we have fighting spirit but no chance against so many.’
‘What happened?’
‘We escape over border to Romania and was put in internment camp, but I not wait to see what happen next. I want to fight not wait. I escape and go to France with other pilots, then come to England and join RAF.’
‘From what I hear Polish pilots have made a huge contribution to defending the country,’ Bella said.
Stefan shrugged. ‘We fight to stop the Nazis and to go home again one day to what is left. They destroy so much of my beautiful country.’ He fell silent for a moment and shook his head. ‘We should talk about happy things. Bella, what do you write about, why do you write? Do you feel you must, in here?’ He put his hand over his heart.
Bella stared at him for a moment. She had never been asked that before, certainly not how her writing made her feel. There was something different about Stefan compared with all the British men she’d known. He had a passion about him, he wasn’t frightened of talking about how something made him feel or to think of emotions in others. She liked that.
By the time they’d finished their tea and ordered another cup, and drunk that, too, Bella was surprised to see that they’d been in the café for well over an hour and it was time that she was getting back to Station 75 before the boss went on the warpath.
‘I’m going to have to go back to work. Thank you for the tea, it’s been lovely talking to you.’ She started to get up and Stefan immediately hurried round to pull out her chair for her.
‘Can I walk you back?’
‘All right, thank you.’
Arriving at the entrance to Station 75, Bella turned to Stefan. ‘I’ll say goodbye here, thank you for walking me back.’
‘My pleasure. Can I see you again, for cup of tea?’ Stefan asked.
To her surprise, Bella’s mind instantly said yes, she’d enjoyed spending time with him and what harm would it do to meet again sometime? ‘I’d like that.’
Stefan took hold of her hand and kissed it, then clicked his heels and bowed. ‘Goodbye, Bella, I look forward seeing you again.’
She smiled at him. ‘Goodbye then.’ As she walked through the archway into Station 75 she could feel him watching her but resisted the sudden urge to turn around and wave back at him.
‘There she is!’ Winnie’s voice shrieked out of the common room window above the garages and Bella looked up to see her friend waving at her; she’d clearly been watching out for her return.
Bella laughed, she knew that she was about to be grilled – Winnie would want to know everything that had gone on and, in particular, what she thought of Stefan. So, what did she think of him? She had to admit she rather liked him and would be happy to see him again, although she wasn’t going to let on to Winnie. It would be rather fun to let her stew for a while, especially after she’d been so adamant about her accepting Stefan’s bold invitation.
Chapter 29
Frankie loved being sent out to do this job, it made a welcome break from the usual routine work at Station 75 and gave her a chance to get out and about without an incident to attend to, as well as seeing how other ambulance stations were run. This one, Station 101 on White Horse Lane in Stepney, was situated in the Trafalgar School and ambulances now stood in the playground where children used to play.
‘There you are.’ The Station Officer handed her a pile of completed pay sheets which it was her job to collect from all the stations in their sector this morning before delivering them all together to the pay office. ‘Who’s next on your list to collect?’
‘Just Station 114 on Rifle Street in Poplar,’ Frankie said. ‘I’ve been working outwards from the nearest to the furthest, it’s a lovely day to be out and about.’
‘Indeed it is. If you came back here later, no doubt you’d see my crew making the most of it sitting out in deckchairs soaking up the sun.’
Frankie laughed. ‘We do that too, it’s nice to sit down and ’ave a rest once the ambulances are ready to go. Right, I’d better be off, thanks for these.’
Back in the car, she set off for Station 114, driving past St Dunstan’s church where she and Alastair had been married. Memories of that day came flooding back to her, making the hollow feeling of missing her husband ache even more inside. It was so hard not being able to see him, talk to him, hold him, just having to wait for precious letters to arrive. Working twenty-four-hour shifts didn’t help either, because if a letter arrived on the day she was working then she wouldn’t get it until she returned home the next morning. There could be one lying on the doormat waiting for her right now. Frankie smiled; she was only a street away from home, she could drop by and check. Turning the car left at the junction she headed for Matlock Street, taking a short diversion on the way to Poplar.
No one in Matlock Street owned a car, so Frankie’s arrival in one of Station 75’s cars didn’t go unnoticed. Parking outside number 25, she climbed out and waved to several of her neighbours who were out chatting in the street and enjoying the sunshine. As she opened the front door, Frankie closed her eyes and made a silent wish that there would be a letter for her on the doormat, but when she opened them she was disappointed, the only envelope that lay there was for Rose, all the way from her uncle in America. There was nothing from Alastair again. She picked up Rose’s letter and put it in her pocket to give to her friend later, doing her best to stamp down the swell of disappointment inside her.
She was about to leave when a sudden burst of laughter came from the kitchen, the familiar throaty laugh of Ivy combined with a deeper one – a man’s. A flicker of anger sparked in Frankie. Who had she brought home this time? Was it another hapless GI who’d succumbed to her dubious charms?
Frankie hurried down the hall and, without stopping to think, burst into the kitchen where Ivy stood with her back to her, arms wrapped around a man. But it was an Englishman, not a GI, and one who Frankie knew – a local spiv, Micky Chandler. She stared at them, thinking Ivy had sunk to new depths: she’d gone from being married to a well-respected policeman to being involved with a spiv who, if rumour had it right, had wriggled his way out of being called up to join the army by paying for a dodgy doctor’s certificate to get him out on medical grounds.
Ivy spun around and glared at her. ‘What are you doing ’ere?’ she sneered. ‘You should be at work.’
‘I am, and I’m workin’ out this way so called in to see if there was any post. Caught you out, have I?’
‘Ladies, ladies.’ Micky raised his hands. ‘There ain’t no need to argue.’ He smiled at Frankie, but his nicotine-
stained teeth had more the look of a shark than a friendly greeting. ‘I was just payin’ my friend Ivy here a visit.’
Frankie rolled her eyes. ‘And then some, by the look of it. It’s your life, Ivy, but I don’t think your late ’usband would be very happy about this.’ She turned to go.
‘Well he shouldn’t ’ave bleedin’ well got himself killed then, should he!’ Ivy spat. ‘I’m only ’aving a bit of fun, there’s no harm in that.’
‘That’s right, we’re just having fun,’ Micky echoed. ‘You’ve got to enjoy today because you don’t know if you’ll ’ave a tomorrow with this war on.’ He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a packet of stockings and held them out to Frankie. ‘Here, ’ave these.’
She looked at them for a few moments, taken aback by the man’s gall. ‘I’ll stick to paintin’ my legs with gravy browning, thanks very much.’
‘Well I’ll ’ave them.’ Ivy snatched them out of Mickey’s hand and laughed. ‘I ain’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.’
Anger flooded through Frankie and she turned and left them, banging the front door loudly as she went out, gulping in lungsful of fresh air, glad of the warmth of the sunny day outside after the sickening revelation in the kitchen. Ivy was clearly happily involved with the slimy, cheating world of Micky Chandler and his black-market deals.
She climbed back into the car and sat for a few moments drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, trying to calm herself down. A knocking on the door window made her jump.
‘Cooee, what you doing ’ere?’ Josie called.
Frankie opened the driver’s door. ‘Hello, Josie, I’m out collectin’ the pay sheets for our sector and thought I’d call in and see if there’s any post for me . . . but there ain’t.’
Josie narrowed her eyes. ‘You look a bit peaky, ducks. If you ain’t got a letter from Alastair today, it don’t mean anything, you know. The post from France ain’t exactly regular. He’ll write when he can because that fella loves you and will do everything he can to come back to you, just you wait and see.’
