Most nights, Merryn and her sister remained in their hut or tent, listening to German machine guns and bullets bouncing off walls and trees, valiantly attempting to curb the fear sparked by this sound. This evening, Cecily was fast asleep, but Queenie was again absent. She often came quite late, putting off going to bed as she did still suffer the odd nightmare. Or else she could be trying to bribe the chef to give her a spot of rum. In view of the fresh danger that had erupted recently, Merryn was concerned and went in search of her.
Walking across the camp, she suddenly heard a grunting sound and saw Queenie on the edge of the woodland, tightly holding a young man in her arms. They were safely hidden in the dark beneath a tree, and whomever this soldier was he laid atop her, pounding into her as she squealed with pleasure. Her mother had always liked to indulge in sex, revelling in affairs with various men throughout her life. This was not something Merryn had any wish to investigate and turning, she quickly ran away and slipped back into bed, making no comment when her mother returned some time later.
Determined to keep her mind off Queenie’s foolish obsessions and these increasing dangers, Merryn happily spent days rehearsing. The opportunity to act as Johnny’s wife filled her with excitement if also a slight nervous tremor. Not that she was against spending time alone with him rehearsing. She simply had no wish for Queenie to guess her attraction to him.
‘How perfect Johnny is for this part,’ her mother declared, her chirrupy laughter lightening all their hearts.
‘He certainly is,’ Merryn agreed and received a hug, as her mother once more treated her as her favourite child whenever she was in a good mood. Had Queenie truly recovered from her lack of gin, her temper at last in decline or was she still acquiring alcohol? Watching her take a sip from her water bottle, Merryn again felt a pang of concern. She really should look into that, but carefully pay no attention to her obsession with sex.
Queenie interrupted these thoughts by making a smart retort about her lack of costume. ‘I should be wearing a crinoline and a stole: do we have any of those? My curls need ribbons to turn them up into ringlets. Oh, and do we have a fan, Merryn?’
‘Sorry, the answer is no to all of those questions. I certainly can’t make you a crinoline,’ she firmly stated. ‘It would require a great deal of fabric, which I no longer have. Nor do I have the time for all the stitching involved.’ Let alone the energy, Merryn thought, feeling far too overworked in this muddy and dangerous situation, her heart constantly bursting with fear at the sight and sound of guns, shells and injured men. ‘We could borrow a uniform for Johnny. I’ll speak to Corporal Lewis about that,’ she offered.
‘So long as we give it a good wash first. Most of them are filthy and stink like hell,’ he grumbled.
‘I’ll see to that too,’ Merryn said, and he thanked her with a smile that set her heart racing. His closeness was at least putting some happiness into her life.
‘Sewing is an important part of your job, not simply playing that stupid accordion.’
Seeing the glower on Queenie’s face, Merryn held up a hand to silence her. ‘Stop fussing over such things, Mama. I’ve already made us some lovely gowns and I’m sure you’ll find one you wish to wear.’
‘You’re quite right. What a darling you are,’ Cecily said. ‘We must next go through a dress rehearsal and find some chaps to watch it.’
It began well, attended by a small audience of sick men who cheered and clapped to welcome them. When Queenie came trotting on stage, elegantly dressed in her favourite blue evening gown, Merryn noticed at once how glazed and bloodshot her eyes were. She looked utterly inebriated. Stumbling forward, she constantly tripped from side to side, completely unbalanced. Her curly blonde hair, twisted up into a knot on top of her head, had fallen loose from the glittering hair comb Merryn had used to pin it in place. It looked entirely dishevelled as she kept flicking her hand through it. And the slur of her words when she began to speak was atrocious.
‘I abso-lu-tely adore these men,’ she stuttered, skittering over to the front of the boards to beam at the audience. Forgetting she was supposed to be acting as Lady Sneerwell, she then began to sing ‘The Boy I Love Is Up In The Gallery’, her tone of voice completely outrageous.
Merryn turned to Cecily with a weary sigh. ‘She’s drunk yet again. What on earth do we do?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ Cecily groaned.
The pair of them watched in dismay as Queenie pulled down the strap of her gown and leaned closer to these Tommies. Shaking her shoulders, she gave them a glimmer of her breasts and a sexually flirtatious smile. They roared with laughter, taking this as a fun and exciting part of the scene. Tottering among them, she smoothed their cheeks, slipping her arm around their shoulders erotically as she grinned and offered them little kisses. She then started whispering in their ears, possibly offering something sexually suggestive or making inappropriate comments. Some men shoved her away, while others captured her in their arms to give her a more passionate kiss.
Alarmed at what Queenie was doing, her performance going from bad to worse, the two sisters met each other’s gaze in equal panic then rushed over to capture her, as they had done that time she fell on stage at the Palace Theatre. She shouted at them in fury as they dragged her away, the audience still roaring with laughter. They applauded and cheered, obviously having enjoyed Queenie’s drunken behaviour. What a nightmare their mother was. The sisters took her to her tent and Merryn struggled to settle her in bed.
Cecily said, ‘I’ll rush back to inform the audience we’ll give a far more appropriate dress rehearsal another day, once Queenie has sobered up.’
‘That went well,’ Merryn commented cynically, glaring at Queenie as she lay on her camp bed with a damp towel over her forehead. ‘You made a complete fool of yourself, Mama, absolutely forgetting how you were supposed to act and remain sober.’
Clearly drained of energy, Queenie responded by denying she was drunk. ‘Oh, darling child, don’t say such a thing. I’ve on-y had a couple of drinksy,’ she stammered.
That evening, while brushing and cleaning costumes, Merryn searched through Queenie’s possessions and unsurprisingly found a bottle of rum tucked away in a drawer beneath her nightgown. Pouring out the alcohol, she replaced it with clear water, then put the bottle back where she found it. She could but hope that her mother would not surmise she was the one responsible for this loss. Determined to resolve her mother’s problem, she went at once to speak to the chief cook to explain what had happened.
‘May I beg you not to provide Queenie with any alcohol in future? It badly affects her.’
He quickly apologised, saying he’d believed he was doing her a favour in this dreadful war. ‘Soldiers too are given a glass of rum each day to ease their suspense and distress.’
‘I appreciate that, but she is an addict and no doubt managed to receive more.’
‘Sorry if I filled her water bottle with too much.’ Just as Merryn was listening to his assurance he would not do that again, a fusillade of machine gun fire suddenly erupted. Part of the hut roof collapsed, and she screamed as something hit her in the back. Her knees buckled and Merryn found herself smacked down on to the ground, then was blocked into silence as she lost consciousness.
When she came round some moments later, Merryn found herself locked in a world of smoke, could hear the sound of moaning and cries for help, some of it perhaps coming from herself. Barely able to breathe, she struggled to pull herself up, anxious to escape, terrifyingly aware that the army canteen had been attacked and was now on fire. Could she manage to get to her feet or had her spine been snapped into pieces? Convinced she was about to die, she was lit with relief when she became aware that someone was dragging her along the ground past men who’d been wounded or killed. Pain enveloped her, but then Merryn found she was being lifted up and seconds later, gasping for breath, she was laid out on a duckboard. A voice close by spoke of someone dying. Were they referring to her? Closing her eyes, she assumed s
he was and sank back into oblivion.
‘How are you feeling, lovey? Oh, what a relief that you’re now awake.’
Blinking open her eyes, Merryn was astonished to find herself tucked in her camp bed and her beloved sister holding her hand. ‘Oh, thank God I’m still alive,’ she said, fear still thumping in her chest.
‘You are, and praise be to those who saved you! I’ll send word to Mama who is desperately upset by what you’ve suffered.’
‘What happened to the chef I was talking to? Is he all right?’ she gasped, struggling to speak clearly.
Cecily smiled. ‘He was the one who saved your life by carrying you out, dear man. He is slightly injured but yes, alive and reasonably well. Many Tommies who acted as cooks and kitchen workers for the battalion did manage to escape. Others were caught up in the fire and tragically could not. They died. It was a terrifying attack.’
‘Oh, it was,’ Merryn murmured, the memory of it resonating through her and making her choke, but she was so thankful she had no serious damage to her spine.
Cecily gave her a drink of water and a warm hug. ‘The loss of a large amount of food from the canteen will prove to be a problem and some of the Tommies have already been sent off in search of replacements. Not an easy task. We’ll be on tight rations until more can be delivered. Are you hungry now?’
Merryn gave her head a little shake, then saw her mother come rushing in to wrap her in her arms, sobbing as she hugged her close. ‘What on earth were you doing in the canteen?’ she cried.
Making no mention of how she’d been investigating her mother’s addiction to alcohol, Merryn remained silent. Then, ordered to rest, all thought of resolving this problem, let alone other issues and the sewing and rehearsals she should be involved in, vanished from her head and she slipped back to sleep.
Days later, Cecily was delighted to find her sister fully recovered if still suffering from a sense of trepidation that flickered through her whenever they heard the roar of a gun or shellfire some distance away. Queenie was now stone-cold sober and as a result, the next dress rehearsal went much better. Cecily thanked their small appreciative audience when they gave their applause, which was a relief and most encouraging.
‘Normally we say break a leg when we really mean good luck for our main performance, which will take place to celebrate Christmas. Right now, that sounds the wrong thing to say,’ she said with a smile. ‘And I’m sure we’ll perform it brilliantly.’
The play did indeed work wonderfully, cheering everyone up and giving them a great sense of satisfaction after all the terrors they’d suffered. It was followed by Cecily singing a few melodies and Merryn playing her instrument. At the end, standing tall and straight, Corporal Lewis presented each of the ladies with a bouquet of winter holly. He gave a smart salute, then with a click of his heels turned and marched off the platform.
‘How kind of him,’ Cecily said, welcoming his gift of red berries with delight. ‘What a charming and helpful man he is, and this play extract has been a real success.’
Lewis returned a few moments later to say, ‘You’ve all been invited to take lunch with the officers who were present at this concert.’
‘Thank you, that would be lovely.’ When he left, Cecily turned to her sister, looking highly irritated. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, is Mama missing again?’
‘She’s gone for a little walk around the camp, presumably to see the Tommies.’
‘By herself ? Goodness, will she be safe? There are quite a lot of prisoners of war here and Mama is not very sensible.’
‘I’ll go and find her and make sure she’s all right,’ Johnny offered, ‘then bring her to the lunch.’
Once he too had left, Merryn gave a weary sigh. ‘I recently saw Queenie involved in a passionate embrace with a soldier. She could well be with another right now. Not something I wish to consider.’
‘Ah,’ Cecily said, giving a small shiver. ‘Not a surprise! As we know, Mama is a bit of a nightmare. In spite of her always being a very determined, self-obsessed lady, albeit with vulnerable addictions, she also has an insatiable sexual appetite. Being a star, she’s a woman who has always loved frolicking with various men friends, viewing herself as an adored Queen. Whatever she’s up to now, with a man or alcohol, is her choice. I can think of no reason why you and I should not attend this lunch, Merryn, since we are desperately hungry. Let’s quickly change and savour some good food, as well as receive the support of those officers.’
ELEVEN
WAITING FOR them outside the Nissen hut, when they came out looking quite smart, Corporal Lewis greeted them with an approving smile and led Cecily and Merryn to the Mess for the lunch. There were often many officers in the audience who would offer their praises, applause and thanks, as they had done for this latest show. The moment they sat down, the Major General turned to them with a scathing expression in his eyes.
‘I’m surprised that you bothered to come and entertain us. In my opinion, women should remain at home, not involve themselves in the war, particularly here in France,’ he said, looking extremely sour-faced and disapproving.
Cecily was staggered by this remark. Merryn was too, judging by the way she blinked. They’d each made sure they were wearing a respectable skirt and jacket, not a fussy costume, and a hat, aware they needed to look smart for this lunch with the officers. Now her nerves jangled with a spurt of anger. How could this man say such a thing after all the applause and roars of delight they’d received from the audience? His dismissive attitude caused Cecily to feel the need to stand up for women’s rights all the more, as she had done while working with the suffragists and even when talking to Johnny. She would continue to do so whenever necessary. Men could be so obstinate and dictatorial.
‘Are you saying women should only be wives and mothers and keep to the kitchen or bedroom?’ she asked, giving a little smile in an attempt to appear courteous.
‘Indeed. That is their duty in life.’ His view of women seemed to be entirely disrespectful and old-fashioned.
‘With this war still going on and rarely anyone at home to cook or care for, women having lost their husband, father, brother or some other loved one, why would they not find suitable duties?’
The Major General made no response to this, merely making puffing noises with his tight-lipped mouth, his flabby nostrils flaring. Turning his face away, he began to sip his soup.
‘Most women have a strong sense of duty,’ Cecily continued, ‘and have taken on jobs normally done by men. Women are working in factories, making ammunitions, and as bus conductors, cooks, clerks, waitresses, mechanics, nurses and ambulance drivers, or sewing shirts for soldiers. All are viewed as pioneer women. My sister Merryn and I too did our bit back home and now are perfectly happy to serve the troops here in France as entertainers. Why would we not?’
‘Utter rubbish! We may well be in need of nurses to work for the doctors, definitely not women singers and actresses.’
‘The Tommies would not agree with you there, sir,’ Merryn gently pointed out. ‘They always welcome us with delight, saying we’ve lifted their morale.’
‘Indeed they do,’ Cecily agreed. ‘We are greatly enjoying this trip and would be prepared to move closer to the firing line, as near as we are allowed by the military.’
‘They would never agree to that,’ he said with a snort of disapproval. ‘It’s against the rules, and there’s also a limit to how long you’ll be allowed to stay here.’
Cecily gave him a polite smile. ‘We have been granted several months’ permit, as no one knows how long this war will last. We’re happy to stay as long as necessary and visit more camps and base hospitals.’
‘You would require new passes in order to do so,’ he stated firmly.
‘We’re perfectly aware of that and have had no difficulty in being granted one for each base and hospital we’ve visited already, including this one, thanks to Corporal Lewis who organises these for us. He’s first-rate at helping and keeping us infor
med of such rules. Getting the necessary petrol and vehicle to transport us does take him some time, with quite a few formalities to go through.’
‘You will never be granted a pass again, not if I have any say on the matter,’ he growled. ‘I’ll make damn sure of that.’ And with a sardonic smile, he turned his back on her and spoke not another word.
‘Goodness, he was such a difficult man,’ Cecily said, as she and Merryn later packed their equipment and costumes ready for departure. ‘What a dreadful attitude he has, stating that women should only be wives and mothers. Mama has constantly attempted to push us into a domestic lifestyle, which she herself has no interest in. Even though because of the war, there are few men around and none that we love. She hates the fact that we both abhor the idea of marriage.’
‘You certainly do,’ Merryn said with a smile. ‘I’m much more in favour of it.’
‘Then do take care whom you choose for a husband, assuming you can find one. Marriage is a form of tyranny that can chain women into slavery. This Major General’s attitude illustrates that entirely. He looks upon dancers and singers as prostitutes, as Mama claims many men do.’
‘Sometimes actresses are accepted by men of distinction and become pretty grand ladies. Mama once told me that Papa was a high-class gentleman from a well-to-do-family, so that could be how she sees herself.’
‘Really? I didn’t know that. I assumed he too was involved in the theatre.’
‘Not that I’m aware of.’
‘That’s something of a puzzle. And as we know that his name was Dean Stanford, then why is she called Hanson?’
‘I assume, having lost him, she returned to her maiden name.’
‘Ah, yes. Apparently, he was not an easy man to live with, so must have made bad mistakes too. I wonder if that is the reason for her inappropriate behaviour, and why she never speaks of her past? Do we have any notion why their marriage failed?’
Girls of the Great War Page 9
