by Daisy Styles
‘Maudie left an hour ago,’ Ruby concluded. ‘Rafal gave her a lift to the station. They went off, nattering in Polish. She was in tears, he was being really kind to her, calmed her down, I think – though I haven’t a clue what he was saying.’ She couldn’t resist a little joke as she added. ‘It certainly wasn’t about cups and sauces or knives and forks! That much I do know.’
Apart from worrying about Maudie, who, the girls knew, was devoted to her father, there was also the overwhelming prospect of how were they ever going to manage without her. Everything would take so much longer: setting the trays, carrying them upstairs, cooking, prepping and serving all the meals, and the endless, endless waves of clearing away and washing up.
‘We’ve got to put our best foot forward and get on with it, Ruby,’ Ava said, lighting up a Woodbine. ‘Poor Maudie’s dodging bombs in London, and there are brave pilots flying out on bombing raids every night from Holkham airfield.’
Ruby nodded. ‘You’re right, Ava; the worst thing that could happen to us is breaking our necks running up and down those damn stairs,’ she chuckled.
For all their brave words and determination, there was no denying that, without Maudie, their workload was virtually impossible to manage.
‘I could get Mum to come and help with the washing-up,’ Ruby suggested, as she set the supper trays with the Spam salad that Maudie had prepared before she got the bad news about her father.
‘That’d help,’ Ava replied.
They staggered upstairs with the loaded supper trays. At the top of the stairs, they bumped into Rafal, who firmly relieved Ruby of her tray.
‘Rubee, I take, tak?’
Ruby nodded gratefully.
‘Thanks, Raf. I’ll go back and get another load.’
Rafal helped the girls lay out the supper, then he said, ‘Maudie in London. Her father, sick. I know’
Ruby was right: he’d obviously got all the relevant information from Maudie on his drive to King’s Lynn station.
‘I gives help to you this night,’ he added, then tapped his watch. ‘I go, nine o’clocks.’
Ruby and Ava hugged him.
‘Thank you, Raf!’ they cried, as the gong for six-thirty supper rang and the hungry code girls filed into the canteen.
With Rafal’s generous help, supper went almost to plan, though none of the diners could have been unaware of a breathless Rafal frantically running up and down the kitchen stairs with empty trays and dirty dishes.
‘You’re down on numbers,’ the Brig remarked to Ava.
Without stopping to clear away, she quickly replied, ‘Maudie’s had to go home.’
‘Can you manage?’ he asked.
‘No! But needs must.’ Ava bustled off with more dirty dishes.
Bella, sitting at a table with a group of chattering trainees, also noticed the cook’s frenzied activity and the fact that a young man in RAF uniform was clearly helping out.
‘Looks like the cooks are overstretched,’ she observed.
‘Don’t look at me!’ her companion exclaimed, pushing aside her empty plate and lighting a cigarette. ‘I’ve got to practise my Morse code for tomorrow’s test.’
Below stairs, Rafal insisted on washing up with Ruby.
‘Please rest,’ Ruby begged, and tried to sit him in a chair by the Aga. ‘You’re on duty all night, you’ll be worn out.’
Rafal didn’t understand, but it didn’t matter, as he had no intention of sitting and resting.
‘I wash for you!’ he announced, and stuck his hands into the sink, which was brimming with soapsuds.
Ruby smiled fondly at him. She loved Rafal’s sweet mistakes and his determination to communicate, even if he did say the wrong things. Turning to Ava, who was wiping down the worn wooden tops with a damp cloth, Ruby said, ‘What do you do with a fella like this?’
‘Give him a big kiss,’ Ava joked. ‘We would never have got through supper without his help.’
Rafal was surprised when Ruby took his hands out of the water and turned him to face her.
‘Thank you,’ she said. She held his face and softly kissed his warm cheek.
Blushing and laughing, a delighted Rafal dabbed soap bubbles on Ruby’s nose, then kissed her cheek, too. ‘Tak, thank you, my Rubee!’
10. Another Pair of Hands
Bella had worked out an effective way of avoiding her family, who would resent spotting her mixing with ‘commoners’. By confining herself to the south wing and the utilitarian dining and recreational areas, she’d managed to avoid them, though she had half glimpsed Edward on the grand staircase and seen her mother being chauffeur-driven by Dodds down the wide sweep of the drive.
‘We’re like ships in the night,’ Bella thought to herself, with a relieved smile.
She loved the communications course. It suited her analytical, mathematical mind; she always got top marks at the end of every test, which her colleagues good-naturedly teased her about.
‘Brainbox!’ they called her or ‘teacher’s pet!’
Seeing her potential, the Brig singled her out for advanced training. Thrilled to be asked, Bella immediately agreed to attend extra classes outside of the scheduled timetable. Without mentioning his work at Bletchley Park, the Brig explained to Bella that when she had completed her advanced-skills course she would be eligible for top-secret work in a communications centre which specialized in cracking German codes. Bella’s cheeks blazed bright pink with excitement when she heard this; doing high-priority war work was more than she’d ever dared dream of.
Bella looked forward to her twice-weekly meetings with the Brig. During the day, he was always brisk with his trainees, sometimes to the point of brusqueness, plus, he was always accompanied by Miss Cox, who guarded him like a terrier guards a bone. In the early-autumn evenings in the south wing library, with a fire (lit by Bella!) crackling in the hearth, Bella saw another side of Brigadier Charles Rydal. He was a quiet, intellectual man with strong views on politics and religion; he was also a brilliant teacher. Bella loved the intriguing challenge of learning the codes and then the even harder job of decrypting them. Sometimes the coded messages he set her were funny and made her laugh out loud; at other times, they were so difficult she entirely failed to decrypt them, which put her in a bad mood.
‘There are too many combinations,’ she moaned.
‘That’s the whole point of code-breaking,’ he said. ‘You’ve only got to break one word, like “Hitler”, then, with time, the rest will fall into place.’
‘But it’s not that simple!’ she cried.
‘I never said it was simple. It’s a question of elimination. It’s a slow, tedious process, like doing a crossword ‒ you keep cancelling out until you’ve completed the puzzle.’
Bella threw back her head and laughed at this. ‘It’s a thousand times harder than any crossword, even the Times’,’ she objected, pointing at the newspaper lying in his lap.
‘You’re clever enough. You’ll work it out,’ the Brig said, admiring her eyes, which always lit up with excitement when she was working alongside him.
Bella particularly enjoyed their time after the lessons, when the Brig would build up the fire, pack his pipe with cherry tobacco and sit back in a battered old leather armchair, cradling in his hand a small tumbler of Scotch. Bella loved to watch him relax. His dark brown eyes became soft and dreamy as he stared into the flames, and all the tension of the day flowed out of him. It was on one of these occasions, when she wasn’t quite sure whether to chat or keep quiet, that the Brig suddenly said, ‘Your parents should be very proud of you.’
Bella literally hooted with incredulity. ‘Quite the opposite!’
The Brig gazed at Bella, curled up in an armchair. With her soft, blonde hair framing her sweet face, she looked as innocent as a child.
‘Then they should be thoroughly ashamed of themselves,’ he said, more forcefully than he’d meant to.
‘I can sort of understand it. I’ve always let them down,’ Bella t
ried to explain. ‘They never wanted a plain, dowdy daughter like me.’
‘God spare us!’ he cried. ‘You are neither plain nor dowdy. You’re beautiful and extremely clever.’
Bella’s heart pounded so loudly she was sure the Brig would hear it through her ribcage. At school she’d been told she was clever, but nobody had ever said she was beautiful. As he gazed into her wide, staring eyes, a slow smile spread across his face.
‘Would you like me to inform them that you’re the brightest trainee I’ve ever taught?’
‘Believe me, they wouldn’t be impressed, though they’d love it if you could find me a husband with a title,’ she said with a mischievous smile.
‘Waste of a fine brain,’ he said, and returned to rekindling his pipe.
They sat on in companionable silence, the Brig reading his newspaper and Bella pretending to read the decoding manual they’d been working on. In fact, she hardly read a word. All she could think of was the Brig’s words: ‘You’re beautiful and extremely clever.’ That was praise indeed.
At breakfast the next day Bella saw Ava and Ruby struggling to serve, this time without Rafal to help them. When she caught sight of Ava hauling the hot-water urn on to the serving table, she abandoned her breakfast.
‘Let me help,’ she said, and took hold of one of the handles.
Too tired to protest, Ava smiled gratefully.
‘Are you short-staffed?’ Bella asked, as they settled the urn on the large serving bench.
Ava nodded. ‘You could say that,’ she said, as she hastily laid bread and marge on the tables. Until Maudie returned, there’d be no soft, warm breakfast rolls.
‘Our second cook had bad news from home and had to return to London.’
‘So it’s just you and Ruby downstairs?’ said Bella.
‘Just the two of us,’ sighed Ava, and hurried below stairs.
Bella hung about in the dining room, waiting for Miss Cox to leave the Brig alone for a few minutes. When she did so, Bella dashed to his table.
‘Would you mind if I helped the girls in the kitchen?’
The Brig lowered the newspaper he’d been reading and gazed up at Bella, who was breathless.
‘They’re short-staffed,’ she added.
‘I know,’ he replied.
‘I promise you my work won’t suffer,’ she assured him. ‘I’ll only spend my spare time helping out.’
Knowing how capable she was, the Brig made a suggestion. ‘You could skip the classes that you’re well ahead in ‒ Morse code and signalling, for instance?’
Bella’s face melted into a warm, happy smile as she realized he wanted her to help the girls below stairs.
‘Yes! Yes!’ she answered eagerly.
‘I’d prefer you not to skip your advanced classes with me,’ he added quickly.
Bella gazed into his soft brown eyes. ‘I’d rather die than give those up!’ Blushing, she immediately tried to rectify her outburst. ‘They’re my top priority, I’d never miss them,’ she added primly.
The Brig was surprised at the relief that flooded through him; he would have been very disappointed if she’d ask to suspend her one-on-one classes with him, and not just because of the progress she was making; the hours he spent with her in the library were some of the happiest of his week.
‘Are you a good cook?’ he joked.
Bella gave him a big, confident smile. ‘Just you wait and see!’
A little later, Bella skipped below stairs and presented herself for work.
‘Give me a pinafore, and I’ll fill in for Maudie,’ she said, with a winning smile.
Although they were astonished, Ava and Ruby didn’t argue; instead, they gave Bella a pinafore and a long list of jobs to do. Over the next few days, they quickly learnt to value Bella’s presence. For one thing, she was fit and strong and could run up and down stairs with vats of stew, several pies and a loaf tucked under her arm! Bella, of course, had to keep up with her own work; she only skipped the classes the Brig suggested and never missed a single private class in the library; in fact, she enhanced them by bringing slices of cake or some nutty cheese and warm bread for him to eat.
‘Are you trying to fatten me up, young lady,’ the Brig teased as he ate whatever she’d brought.
‘Just building up your strength for code-breaking,’ she said, admiring his long, lean body, stretched out in the battered old armchair.
‘Get over your pathetic schoolgirl crush,’ she told herself firmly, tearing her eyes away from him. ‘The man’s nearly double your age!’
As the days turned to weeks, Bella revealed her real culinary talent, which was cooking game. Unlike squeamish Ava, who was revolted by blood and innards, Bella could skin rabbits and hares, pluck pheasant and wild duck, make pâté from mackerel and crab, and her game pie was to die for. Nobody would argue that Maudie and Ava were good cooks, but Bella’s flair and creativity took below-stairs cooking to another level. When her fellow trainees were upstairs making bedtime cocoa, Bella was to be found below stairs, happy in the kitchen, making pies, bottling or jamming leftover fruit, boiling chutney made from anything she could find; apples, pears, carrots, cabbage, beetroot, onions, vinegar, ginger and dried fruit.
‘You’re the queen of making do in wartime, lass,’ Ava said, as they sat around the kitchen table one afternoon, smoking Woodbines and drinking scalding-hot tea. ‘You could make summat from nowt, as mi mam would say.’
‘I really enjoy the challenge,’ Bella admitted.
‘By the way,’ said Ruby, as she topped up her tea from the big brown kitchen teapot. ‘His lordship said to congratulate the cook on yesterday evening’s venison casserole.’
Bella rolled her eyes. ‘He’d choke if he knew his youngest daughter had cooked it!’
‘Thank God it’s autumn,’ Ruby said gratefully. ‘There’ll be more game after his lordship’s seasonal shoots. It should keep us going until well into the New Year.’
‘Nineteen forty-two!’ said Ava with a heavy sigh.
‘And still fighting,’ Bella added. ‘The Germans are bombing the living daylights out of our cities.’
‘Pity the poor sods living there, bombed out of house and home,’ said Ava, as she lit up another cigarette.
‘I’m grateful Raf’s a mechanic and not a pilot,’ Ruby said earnestly. ‘At least he’s safe on the base.’
‘When I lived upstairs I used to see the planes flying out over the North Sea. It made me shudder to think how many would never come back,’ Bella said sadly.
Ruby raised her brimming teacup. ‘Here’s to our brave lads in the RAF!’
‘Cheers!’ her friends replied in earnest.
On a dank and misty November morning, grim news was announced on the radio; the British aircraft carrier Ark Royal had been torpedoed and sunk by a U-boat just off Gibraltar.
‘My God!’ Ava cried as they listened to the BBC news announcer. ‘The crew survived. They played a big role in the sinking of the Bismarck in May.’
‘But the ship’s gone down, that’ll hurt our national pride,’ Bella observed.
‘Sounds like it sank quickly,’ Ruby said. ‘I’m glad the crew got safely away.’
The kitchen phone shrilled out.
‘I’ll get it,’ said Ava. ‘It’s probably the Fakenham grocer wanting more ration coupons.’
When she recognized the warm voice on the other end of the line, Ava smiled in delight.
‘Hello, Tom!’ she said softly.
‘Have you been avoiding me?’ he teased.
‘Of course not,’ she replied.
‘I’ve decided I’m going to put in an official complaint to His Majesty’s government,’ Tom joked. ‘It’s outrageous to keep a beautiful woman chained to a hot Aga!’
Ava laughed and explained: ‘Maudie had to go home and we’ve been rushed off our feet.’
‘Well, I’m certainly not waiting till Maudie comes back to see you again,’ Tom said firmly. ‘I’ll be at the Walsingham stables th
is afternoon. Can you pop over at four, just to say hello?’
‘I’m sure I can be spared for half an hour,’ she replied.
‘See you later,’ he finished cheerily.
Ruby and Ava were concerned about losing Bella, who they’d come to like very much in the brief time Maudie was away. Apart from being grateful for her help and enthusiasm, Ava was, frankly, amazed by Bella herself.
‘She’s a fantastic cook and a lovely, kind, generous woman. I can’t believe she’s a Walsingham. She couldn’t be more different from the rest of her rotten family.’
‘She’s had a tough time, poor kid,’ Ruby told her. ‘When I came to the hall at fourteen, I envied the gentry but, as I got to know the family, I felt sorry for Lady Annabelle, as she was then. Her bloody family never stopped criticizing her. She couldn’t get anything right for trying, and that bitch of a sister picked on her for everything; she took a real pleasure in mocking her hair, her clothes, her weight. She made poor Lady Annabelle cry nearly every day. Wealth doesn’t always bring happiness,’ Ruby concluded, with a heavy sigh.
‘The Walsinghams are a mystery to me,’ Ava said. ‘Why is Lord Edward not in the armed forces? And how come his sister’s dodged female conscription? She might be drunk from dawn till dusk, but she’s young and strong enough for factory work.’
Ruby burst into a fit of giggles. ‘Oh, I can just see her driving a farm tractor or making bombs in a munitions factory! She’d get her hands dirty or, worse still, break a precious fingernail!’
Maudie’s compassionate leave only extended to a week. Even though she begged for more, hard-hearted Miss Cox refused, saying her duty was to her war work, not her family. She also insisted that Bella’s place was above stairs, though the Brig didn’t seem too fussed.
‘Just as long as you keep up with your course work, you can do what you want in your spare time,’ he said to Bella, in the privacy of the library. ‘Don’t make it too obvious or you’ll have Cox on your back and, for God’s sake, don’t stop making your game pies. I’d go to prison for one of those!’ he joked.
Bella smiled happily. After a compliment like that, she’d make the Brig a game pie every week until the day she died!
