Girls of the Great War

by Freda Lightfoot

  Merryn gave a shrug as she carefully folded the costumes away. ‘No idea. Like you, there’s very little I’ve been told about him or what went wrong between them. One day, Queenie might explain the reason but it’s not something we should ask her about right now. We have enough anguish to deal with, not least the problem this Major General has created. He sounds as if he’s wanting to send us back to Blighty for good.’

  ‘As he stoutly declared, he’ll make damn sure of that,’ Cecily said, adopting his resolute tone of voice. Then she firmly remarked, ‘And I’ll make damn sure that he doesn’t succeed.’

  Due to the dreadful weather with snow blocking all the roads and frost freezing everything, a decision was finally made to call an end to this latest battle, at least until spring came, which was a great relief to everyone. Many of the troops were transported away by bus or train back to Rouen, some to Ypres and other places. As she felt eager to carry on entertaining the Tommies still present here in Saint-Omer, singing, reciting poems and performing their play extract, Cecily found herself again engaged in battle with the Major General. She asked for her small troupe to be granted the necessary pass by the military to remain with this battalion. Corporal Lewis was standing by her side, ready to offer his support.

  ‘It’s time for you to leave for England,’ the Major General informed her decisively. ‘We’ve heard enough of your performances.’

  ‘I appreciate that you are clearly no longer prepared to accommodate us, however, we fully intend to visit more bases and local hospitals,’ she said. ‘At least for a while longer.’

  ‘Why would I allow you to do that? You should consider going home to your family.’

  ‘They are all here, including my mother, who is a star performer and happy to assist me. Also my sister Merryn and Johnny, our friend and drummer. We’re busy rehearsing new songs, music, play extracts and poems, happily doing our bit and have no wish to return home until this war comes to an end, which could be soon.’

  Clearing his throat, Corporal Lewis stepped forward, clicking his heels together to stand stiffly erect. ‘Sir, I assure you neither the patients nor the Tommies are bored with these performances. I accept it is essential for this concert party to entertain at other bases. But can we welcome them back in a few weeks, sir?’

  ‘Never!’ the Major General roared. ‘I’ll make damned sure no further passes are provided.’

  To her dismay, before the end of January, Cecily received notice that their permit had been cancelled and they were ordered to quit and return home. Still determined to contest this decision, she again hurried to speak to Corporal Lewis.

  ‘Can you arrange for me to be escorted back to Blighty?’ she begged him, showing the details of the letter. ‘Lieutenant Trevain initially granted us permission so I need to return to Cornwall to speak to him and gain a new permit. It was my idea in the first place, so I feel the responsibility to resolve this problem and restore the Major General’s faith in us. I’ll make sure it’s a short trip.’

  ‘Of course, ma’am. We’d feel lost without your team of entertainers and you should have the right to visit more camps and bases. Men always feel enraptured by you, and your performances boost their morale. I’ll see that you get home safely.’

  Cecily wrote to Nan to tell her she was coming, explaining that Merryn, Mama and Johnny had agreed to stay and continue working. Nan wrote regularly to them all, and it was always good to hear how things were back home in Plymouth. Queenie, in particular, loved receiving many letters and postcards from her.

  ‘I’ve certainly no wish to travel anywhere in this freezing temperature, let alone cross the sea,’ Queenie stated with a shiver, despite being dressed in several layers of clothes.

  ‘We will miss you, love, and live in hope you get the necessary permission,’ Merryn said, giving her sister a hug.

  ‘It’s most brave of you to risk taking this journey on your own,’ Johnny said. ‘Would you like me to accompany you?’

  Cecily shook her head. ‘No need for that. Corporal Lewis is finding me an escort. You stay here and care for Mama and Merryn.’

  Merryn gave him a shy smile. ‘We’d be lost without you too, and would feel in more danger.’

  ‘We would indeed,’ Queenie said. ‘And we need you to keep on drumming for us.’

  It had proved to be a cold, hard winter and their booted feet were crunching through snow as the two sisters took a walk together that evening around the camp, Cecily feeling the need for a private chat. ‘The Tommies have clearly been through a difficult time, with this latest battle destroying more lives. Because of their heroism, I firmly believe we should continue to support and entertain them. Keeping their spirits high is vital.’

  ‘Oh, I do agree. They love to sing with us instead of thinking how they could be blown to bits any day. And these brave men sometimes keep singing our tunes in the trenches. You’re so clever, Cecily. I’m sure you’ll succeed with this problem the Major General has created for us.’

  ‘I’ll certainly do my best. And do take good care of yourself while I’m gone.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I will, and I’m sure Johnny will help.’

  Cecily gave her a wry smile. ‘I suspect you’re becoming very fond of him. Has he declared his fondness or love for you too?’

  Merryn blushed. ‘Oh, don’t ask. We are becoming good friends and, yes, he has kissed me on a few occasions. It turns my heart over with excitement. Whether we’ll get any closer, I really don’t know.’

  Cecily wrapped her arms around her sister to hold her close. ‘I hope you are happy with him. But as I say, do take care and protect yourself from too much of his constant flirting.’

  By the end of the week, Cecily was on board ship, and a young man who was due a leave was happy to escort her. She thanked him most gratefully and promised herself that she would do whatever was necessary to achieve her goal.

  TWELVE

  FEBRUARY 1918

  NAN WAS waiting for Cecily at Millbay railway station in Plymouth. ‘Oh, I’m so pleased to see you, darling,’ she said, welcoming her with a warm hug. ‘I’ve missed you so much. I do hope Merryn and Queenie are safe and well.’

  ‘They are indeed,’ Cecily said with a smile. How she loved this woman who still felt like a mother to her.

  To her delight, they took a tram home. It felt like she was stepping back into her past and she instinctively helped an elderly woman climb on board with them. As she contentedly sat as a passenger instead of a conductor, Cecily spoke of how popular they were, having achieved relief and happiness for the troops, making no mention of the dangers they’d had to face. She went on to briefly explain the problem the Major General had created.

  ‘Good for you. We’ll celebrate your triumph this evening with a delicious dinner.’

  Back on Grand Parade, Cecily could hardly believe that she was home in this charming Victorian white house with its elegant bay windows, rosewood furniture, oak-panelled walls and her personal bedroom. She’d always relished its braided chintz curtains, mahogany bed, bureau and wardrobe, not least her own private bathroom.

  She eagerly took a bath, something that had not been possible at the base camps in France, then dressed herself in a lilac chiffon gown that reached in a straight line down to her ankles with a crossover draped bodice and ruffled waistband. It was one of her favourites, which she hadn’t worn since before the war. She also adored being able to wear her pretty heeled shoes. Glancing in the mirror, Cecily modestly admired her elegant appearance, so different from the plain uniform she’d normally worn for years, either on the tram or in camp and sometimes on stage. She looked much thinner though, and more tired. A few days off might do her good.

  Thinking of this visit as a little treat that couldn’t last long, she went down the curved staircase to take dinner with Nan in the dining room. Expecting there to be just the two of them, Cecily was surprised to find a young man seated beside her.

  ‘Ah, hello, darling. I hope you don’t m
ind that my nephew has come to join us, being keen to hear all about your achievements.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she said, reaching out a hand to shake his.

  He introduced himself as Boyd Radcliff: a young man who was quite good-looking, if somewhat reed-thin. His left eye looked a little narrow and blank while the other was a lively and bright velvet brown, the same colour as his hair. Hobbling over to her, using a crutch, he gently shook her hand. Cecily quietly asked if he’d suffered injuries in the war.

  ‘Yes, a bash to my head when I was hit with a shell and lost part of my left leg.’

  ‘Oh, you have my deepest sympathy. I’ve met many other young men and boys in hospitals where we perform who have similar problems. You must have suffered considerable pain.’

  He nodded and went on to tell how prosthetic technology was improving and that he had not succumbed to gangrene or any infection. His leg had been amputated just above the knee, then fitted with an artificial wooden limb. ‘I call it a peg-leg, something I’m slowly growing accustomed to,’ he said with a smile. ‘I spent some time in a military hospital with an excellent doctor, where we were given exercise and assistance to get walking again. Not easy, but if one wishes to return to reality it’s worth the effort.’

  ‘I greatly admire you for that and wish you every success,’ Cecily said, smiling with admiration at his courage.

  Nan came bustling in carrying a tray stacked with dishes of chicken, vegetables and gravy. Boyd quickly hobbled over to lift it from her and place it on the table.

  ‘Look at this boy, always so keen to help despite him having no chance of getting that knee back.’

  Boyd laughed. ‘Aye, I do tend to walk a bit stiffly and one day my peg-leg should become much more comfortable. I’m enjoying this much-needed rest here in Plymouth. It was kind of you to invite me, Aunty, and I’m delighted to meet you, Cecily.’

  She found herself blushing as she met his appreciative gaze. ‘I’m pleased to meet you too. I love Plymouth. I used to constantly explore the Sound, Drake’s Island and Wembury Bay. It was a delight to come and live in this house in the city where my mother was born.’

  Nan gave her a startled look. ‘Queenie was born in Whitstable in Kent, not Plymouth.’

  Cecily blinked at her in astonishment. ‘Goodness, that’s news to me. I thought Mama said that was the reason she bought this house, as well as the fact she’d always loved views of the sea. Did I misunderstand?’

  Frowning slightly, Nan looked a little embarrassed. ‘Possibly Queenie doesn’t always explain things very well. After her mother died, she had no wish to return to the house where she was born, so she bought this one instead.’

  ‘I see. She has, in fact, told us little about her past. Is there more you could tell me about her and my father?’ Cecily asked quietly, hope flickering through her.

  ‘Not without her permission, dear. I probably shouldn’t have said what I’ve just told you. Now do help yourself to some chicken.’

  Frustration brought a small frown to Cecily’s face, thinking how difficult it was to find simple answers to her mother’s past. She noticed how Nan avoided her gaze, as if nervous of having said the wrong thing. This was a subject she should not have asked about, she decided, as they settled to eat the delicious meal Nan had provided.

  ‘I wondered if you were at all interested in the suffrage movement,’ Boyd asked, skilfully changing the subject.

  Now she tactfully smoothed her disappointment away. ‘I am indeed interested in the suffragists, having been involved with them for some years. Nothing too violent, but I’ve willingly offered my support by raising funds and gathering new members for them. When this war began, the suffrage movement ceased their political activities, cancelled their hunger strikes and focused their attention on the war effort. We women eagerly volunteered to take on jobs normally carried out by men, which has surely proved how capable we are. As a result, I think the view of women by the government has improved. They agreed to release all the active suffragettes who’d been imprisoned.’

  ‘And now they have successfully reached their goal, at least to a degree.’

  Cecily gave a sardonic little smile, fully aware, as was he, that only women over thirty who also owned property were the ones to gain the right to vote. Whereas all men over the age of twenty-one were now allowed to vote, while those in the armed forces could vote from the age of nineteen. ‘The suffrage movement is pleased that votes have finally been granted to some women, but there is still evidence of inequality between us and men.’

  ‘I agree that’s entirely wrong,’ Boyd said, with a firm nod. ‘At least it’s a start and will improve.’

  ‘It certainly should, as this war has proved women’s ability,’ she stated, meeting his bright gaze. How she appreciated his support. He seemed to be a most friendly man. ‘I’m so glad we agree on this subject.’

  ‘Indeed we do, and you may be interested to know that on 6th February there is to be a suffrage parade to celebrate this granting of votes for women, not only in London but in many other places too in the days following, including here in Plymouth. I’ve definitely been in favour of it so will be attending. Would you care to come too?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’d love to.’ There was something about this young man that caused a warm glow to spread through her, rather a surprise considering how she’d felt little interest in men recently. Smothering a yawn, she leaned back in her chair and patted her tummy. ‘That was a delicious meal, Nan. Such a treat. Can’t say we’re ever well fed in camp, particularly lately when we ran out of food, the canteen having been attacked by a bomb.’ She briefly told what Merryn had suffered from, but that fortunately she was not seriously injured.

  ‘Oh my goodness, thank heaven for that. What dangers you must have faced. Do you intend to stay in France and continue with your concerts?’

  ‘We do indeed. We feel it’s our task to keep these men’s spirits and morale high.’

  ‘That is very brave and noble of you,’ Boyd remarked softly.

  ‘Now you’d best go off to bed for some much-needed rest,’ Nan instructed her, as she had done so often when Cecily was a young girl.

  ‘You’re quite right, I do feel pretty whacked. And tomorrow I need to make an appointment to see Lieutenant Trevain. Let’s hope I don’t have to wait too long for that.’

  A few days later, Cecily received word that he was looking forward to seeing her again, whenever it suited her. At ten o’clock the next day, she sat before him relating what their troupe had achieved and went on to explain why she had come to see him.

  ‘Oh dear, that sounds odd,’ he said. ‘I’ve received good reports of your performances so why would you not continue? I’ll be happy to provide you with a new permit, one that should see you through to the end of the war. I’ll write and explain to that fellow why I trust you to perform for them, as you are a most talented and brave young woman.’

  Her heart swelled with relief at his generosity. ‘Thank you so much, Sir. I really appreciate your help. We’ve worked hard and do find great fulfilment in what we do.’

  Leaning closer, the Lieutenant quietly remarked, ‘In return for this new pass, may I respectfully request that you contact me with any information you might come across, should you be willing to speak with prisoners of war?’

  Cecily stared at him in blank astonishment, falling silent for some seconds. ‘Are you suggesting that you wish me to act as a spy?’

  ‘We call them agents, not spies. It is considered to be an element of your duty, one that women are particularly good at, being able to persuade men into handing over information by offering them a sweet smile and a bat of their beautiful eyelashes. Would you be prepared to do that?’ His eyes widened as he patiently awaited her answer.

  Swallowing the panic that blocked her throat, Cecily worried whether she could cope with such a challenge. It surely wouldn’t be easy. She’d seen PoWs tucked in tents watching their performance, but had never approached them or
attempted to converse with them. How on earth would she find the courage, let alone be aware of the right questions to ask? It then came to her that this might prove to be a form of revenge for the loss of Ewan, so why shouldn’t she give it a try, assuming she was told exactly what to do? Clearing her throat with a little cough, she met his questioning gaze with one of her own. ‘Would I receive training on how to go about this?’

  ‘I will teach you how to achieve anything that could be useful for us.’

  ‘If this is what you wish in return for the permit, then yes, I’ll do the best I can for you, Sir. No promises, however, that I’ll succeed.’

  ‘Excellent! I know you’re leaving soon so I’ll be in touch with you in the next day or two to arrange an element of training for you.’

  It turned out not to be easy. Lieutenant Trevain assured Cecily that her success as a spy would be largely dependent upon practice and experience. He began by lecturing her on the growing threat of conflict in Europe and how the Germans were determined to invade Britain. He then informed her that she should look into the possibility of interrogating prisoners-of-war to gain essential information. First, she should attempt to identify their name, rank and number and possibly their chief officer; where they were planning to go before being captured; as well as more important details of the enemy’s military capacity and their future plans. Becoming part of an undercover spy operation, he explained, would also be useful.

  Achieving that seemed highly unlikely, let alone questioning PoWs. Were members of the local population involved in such activity, even though so many villages had been under attack? Her team had performed quite close to the enemy front line, where German armies occupied a section of northern France as well as nearby Belgium. The Netherlands were neutral, but would she ever find herself in a situation where she could acquire information on when the Germans planned to invade her home country? Cecily suspected that being a spy, or agent as Trevain preferred to call them, would be a lonely and dangerous occupation, with no certainty she’d find the necessary support.