One morning when it was her turn to light up, it was frighteningly dark, not a glimmer of light from anywhere, no moon, the horizon not yet showing. It was unnervingly still, mist draping the hedges like curtains that refused to open, and Rosie had a creepy sensation that she was being followed.
She looked around her but her eyes were unable to pierce the gloom, and the torch she carried, with its thin beam, simply emphasized the darkness. Then near the hedge, a few feet away, she was alarmed to see a white shape moving slowly as she went into the second field. It was the size of a football and was floating about five feet from the ground. Trying not to be afraid, she continued walking. The whiteness was remarkable and she couldn’t think what it could be.
Pushing through the second hedge, she looked around but it had disappeared. She ran the last few yards and locked herself inside the canteen building with a sigh of relief. She saw Walter later that morning and told him about her experience. If she expected sympathy and a promise to investigate she was disappointed. He laughed and told her to take more water with it and stop wasting his time.
Later that day a young man came in for the lunchtime break. Removing a balaclava from his head to reveal a white bandage, he said, ‘Sorry if I frightened you, Rosie. I often go out early and watch the day break.’ It was Duggie.
‘What have you done?’ Rosie asked, at once concerned.
Duggie refused to explain, insisting he had been bitten by a dog.
‘A dog, on your head?’
‘A very tall dog!’ he laughed.
‘Why didn’t you call me, say something?’ Rosie asked.
‘I wanted to but I thought it might frighten you even more.’ He gave a twisted grin and added, ‘I could see by the way you were bent forward and taking great scuttling strides that I’d frightened you.’
‘Nonsense,’ Rosie grinned. ‘I just couldn’t wait to get started on yesterday’s cold ashes!’
She was blushing furiously as he smiled at her and wondered why she had been able to answer to him so freely. She usually avoided conversations. ‘It must have been because he’s very kind,’ she told Kate and Ethel later.
‘Interesting,’ said Kate with one of her broad winks at Ethel.
Duggie appeared twice more on her early mornings, and on each occasion he walked with her and followed her into the canteen, lit the fire for her and dealt with the cantankerous water heater. Once he gave her a bar of chocolate and, starving as she always was, she kept it all day before sharing it with her friends. She had never received a gift from a man before and she marvelled at it, kept the fact that Duggie had given it to her as a secret to enjoy. They chatted easily as they worked, and she learned that he was the youngest in his family, with three older sisters.
As the time for the bandage to be removed drew nearer she knew that it would also mean he would have to return to his place in the cockpit of one of the ferocious little Spitfires and have to get up there and protect the airfield against enemy bombers. That thought frightened her as no other had. Reading about the war in newspapers and even seeing it on newsreels at the pictures was frightening. But the real thing, involving people you knew, liked and cared for, was quite different.
There were air raids on most nights but so far the airfield hadn’t been bombed. The planes were on their way to other targets. Each time the fighter planes took off as the enemy bombers headed towards them, to defend the airfield and also to avoid the bombers catching them on the ground – an easy target.
The area around the town had suffered casualties though, and during their time off they were upset to witness the scenes as people carried what they could from damaged houses, and areas were fenced off and notices were placed warning of buildings in imminent danger of collapse. There was an air raid once as they were heading for their bus and they had to go down a shelter with the rest of the shoppers.
When they emerged they were distressed to see stretchers being carried across rubble-strewn areas that had once been neat and orderly streets. Men were using anything they could find, and in many cases their bare hands, to search the rubble for survivors. A dog wandered around barking occasionally, searching for his home and family. A cat sat on a wall jerkily washing itself, as though to say life goes on and we mustn’t let things slide.
Having overcome their tiredness and settled into the routine of their work, the three girls enjoyed their trips into town. It wasn’t a daily treat as their wages were too low for such extravagance. Rosie and Kate sometimes received postal orders from home, and Rosie’s Nan kept them supplied with food parcels on a regular basis. Kate occasionally treated them to afternoon tea when she had extra cash. She liked dressing up and sitting in a café, looking at the airmen, soldiers and sailors passing by. She enjoyed flirting, but during their visits to town never left them to go out with one of her conquests. They always went back to camp together. Ethel and the shy Rosie considered her a good, reliable friend. She frequently complained abut her lack of money but was generous with her friends when her purse was full.
When their first weekend leave came, Ethel went home with Rosie. Mrs Dreen welcomed her and enjoyed spoiling the two girls with breakfast in bed and silly luxuries, like Christmas crackers she had saved for a special occasion and ‘lucky dip’ parcels containing small gifts of a hand-made handkerchief and a knitted scarf each.
A letter came while they were there. Rosie picked it up off the mat and handed it to her nan after looking curiously at the handwriting. Mrs Dreen hastily pushed it out of sight. ‘Someone I was at school with,’ she explained vaguely.
Ethel imagined having a letter and tried not to think of her own home with its air of fear and anxiety. She enjoyed her days with Rosie but a part of her grieved for the place she called home. In spite of all the problems, she wanted to see her family. She had no news of her brother and there was no way she could receive any.
They went back to camp with a basket of goodies to share with Kate. And when they shared their news of their first weekend home, Ethel was enthusiastic in her descriptions of Mrs Dreen’s kindness.
* * *
Money was far from plentiful for any of the girls. Their wages, which were little more than a pound with a few shillings more for Ethel as cook, had to provide for their entertainment and travel during their days off as well as items of clothing. The uniform supplied only included two blouses, a skirt and a jacket, plus the blue overalls they wore while at work. Everything else they had to find for themselves. Ethel had no generous parents to help and for her money was difficult to manage.
She never complained about being hard-up. She didn’t smoke but bought her allocation of cigarettes and gave them one at a time to airmen who were without any. She never wrote letters and she went out only when persuaded by Kate or Rosie to go into town to see a film or have tea in a café; she was still nervous of being found.
Rosie spent money on postage stamps, writing home to Nan and to many of her friends. She went to the town whenever Kate went, and one afternoon was persuaded to buy a lipstick which she put on amid much hilarity by pursing her lips, while Kate was demonstrating the better way. By the time she had blotted it and rubbed it in there was little to be seen.
Regarding money, Kate was different. She was always broke. She wrote several letters each week to her parents and friends, one each Monday pleaded for her parents to give her a ten bob note for the weekend, which they often did. Whenever there was news of a shop receiving supplies of make-up or other toiletries, she dashed into town, usually scrounging a lift from the willing airmen, and bought all she could. Make-up, soap, perfume, curling lotion, plus a secret formula of bleach for her hair, which she did herself. No matter how late they were getting into bed, she never failed to remove her make-up, cream her face and hands and roll up her hair in curlers ready for the following day.
Her looks were her absolute priority and from the pleasure given to the men by her cheerful, saucy attitude towards them, the dedication and expense were justified. He
r cheerful face was a tonic to the men on the camp, her flirting a relief from the tragedies unfolding all around them.
Ethel neither received nor wrote letters. She considered writing to Wesley at his home address but the risk of her parents learning of her whereabouts stayed her hand. Whenever new personnel arrived at the camp she questioned them, asking if any of them had met Wesley Daniels, but so far she had not been lucky. Nor was there a simple way for him to find her.
It was easy to get to know some of the young men on the station. Coming in for snacks and for the small items such as combs, hair cream, shaving soap, pens, ink, writing paper and all the other necessities, or just sitting to chat to others during the evenings, their faces became familiar. Some flirted, others just wanted to talk about their families, and the three girls became adept at saying the right thing as they admired photographs of loved ones. Very few grumbled or related their fears, although there were a few who had received ‘Dear John’ letters from girls they had hoped to return to one day. These the girls comforted, listening to their grieved stories and helping them to accept what they couldn’t change.
Duggie, still wearing his white bandage, came often to talk to Rosie, who still blushed when she saw him, sometimes hiding when her embarrassment became acute. He soon learnt the routine and when it was Rosie’s turn to light the dreaded boiler and fill the urn he was often there to give a hand.
Kate had many dates, but with only one evening off each week, it was difficult to fit them all in, so most were refused. She didn’t want to ‘get serious’ she told Ethel. ‘I just want to have a bit of fun and make sure the boys do too. When I marry it’ll be for love but he’ll have to be rich too!’
Rosie refused dates to the few who invited her. She was too inexperienced, and avoided situations she felt unable to manage. The only man she spent time talking to was Duggie and it was some time before she realized he asked more questions about Ethel than herself. She felt a slight disappointment but soon shrugged it aside. Who wouldn’t prefer the confident, outgoing Ethel to someone like herself?
Ethel had plenty of invitations too but she refused them all, although she was getting braver as days passed without a sign of her father. Perhaps she would be safe here after all. She began going out more. Sometimes with one of the girls, occasionally with an airman but only as part of a group, never as a couple.
One day she left the camp alone after the lunchtime shift and walked to the bus stop. It was the first time she had done this and she felt vulnerable. A lorry slowed as the driver recognized her and offered her a lift. She hesitated, then, as she saw the bus approaching she thanked them and said she was meeting a friend on the bus.
‘Why did I do that?’ she asked Rosie when she got back to camp. ‘They were only being friendly.’
‘You’re still thinking about your family, I expect,’ Rosie surmised. ‘Until you find out the reason for their behaviour you won’t be free of fear.’
‘It isn’t that I presume every man is going to be violent like my father.’
‘Not violent, necessarily. It could be because your father forbade you to talk to any male, clearly suspicious of their… non-violent intentions?’ she grinned cheekily, her blue eyes wide.
‘I can’t be that stupid, can I?’ Ethel frowned.
‘Only one way to find out. Next time accept and thank them with a smile,’ Rosie advised.
When she next went into town, determined to take Rosie’s advice, her resolve was wasted. The bus came before there was any sign of a vehicle leaving the camp. It was on the way home that she was offered a lift. Losing her nerve in a way she couldn’t explain, and which made her angry with herself, she thanked them and shook her head.
There had been an air raid which she guessed might have delayed the bus, and as she watched the lorry disappear she wished she hadn’t been so foolish. She tapped her cold feet impatiently, hugged her shoulders for warmth. Where was the bus? After ten minutes she knew it wasn’t coming and, aware she would be late for her shift, she began to walk. Rain began, slowly at first, then in an increasing downpour that threatened to soak her to her skin. The lorry had stopped somewhere and it overtook her again just outside the town. The driver slowed and repeated his offer of a lift. Without thinking she shook her head and waved them on. There was a corner not far off and as the lorry slowed to take it a man jumped off the back and waited for her.
‘I know a short cut,’ he said after introducing himself as Dave. ‘You’ll be late on shift if you take the road.’
He led her along the road then cut through a hedge and began to walk at the side of a ploughed field. Once out of sight of the road, he put an arm around her and tried to kiss her. His face was rough and his breath was tainted. She pushed him away and he pleaded, then grew angry.
‘Ice maiden they called you. Did you know that, Miss Frosty Ethel Twomey? There’s bets on for who’ll melt you, but I don’t think I’ll bother to try,’ he shouted as she hurried away from him, across the field in the direction of the camp.
What is the matter with me? she asked herself as she walked across fields of soggy, beaten-down grass. Her feet were so cold she couldn’t feel them. Her uniform skirt was already soaked and sticking to her thighs at every step. Kate managed to stay friends with the boys who tried to go further than she wanted. She had the skill to deal with these incidents in a friendly way. Even Rosie managed to keep her dignity and smile her way out of embarrassing teasing and the occasional stolen kiss. Why did she have to lose her temper and make a fool of herself? It would probably have been nothing more than a kiss, a hand to hold, a moment’s fun. Now she had added to her reputation as an ice maiden. She thought of her father and blamed him for her inadequacy with men. Blaming him wouldn’t help her now. She had to deal with it, face it and overcome her stupid attitude or she was in for a miserable war.
The walk was longer than she had imagined, as twice her progress was restricted by barbed wire and she had to make a detour. Her legs and feet were painful and stiff with the cold, her forehead was hurting with the icy wind that blew the rain against her face, tormented her and tangled her hair. Discomfort and anger at her stupidity made her brown eyes look heavy against the paleness of her skin.
Without waiting for explanations, Rosie ran a bath, the maximum five inches. It was not enough to thoroughly warm her, the water was tepid, the bottom of the bath never really warming up. Walter heard the geyser roaring and the water running as he passed the window and shouted in complaint. ‘This isn’t the time for bathing. Don’t you know—’
‘—there’s a war on,’ the others finished for him.
* * *
They were still sleeping in the tent, which they had made more comfortable by the addition of a second heater and more blankets, when December came. By this time they were well in control of the job and each girl had settled to do the jobs they did best. So it was a surprise when Walter Phillips came in one day to warn them not to be sloppy and to make sure everything was in good order.
‘What d’you mean?’ Ethel demanded. ‘What’s wrong with the way we do things?’
‘It’s good but it’s got to be better because the Area Manager’s on his way.’
The three girls looked at each other and groaned.
‘No afternoon off then,’ Kate said.
‘At least we can ask about getting out of that damned tent,’ Ethel added. ‘It’s winter and soon we’ll have snow and the tent will be like an igloo. Can you imagine tunnelling out through six feet of snow one morning?’
‘We’d better ask Walter for a compass!’ Rosie joked.
The arrival of Albert Pugh was an anticlimax. Instead of the dragon roaring complaints, he walked in unannounced and didn’t introduce himself, just called them outside to see the arrival of their new accommodation. A small building built of arched corrugated iron was being lowered from the back of a lorry to be placed on the ground. It was in sections and, before the afternoon was over, the team of engineers had it erected
and complete with beds, lockers and a stove.
No one seemed to be in charge, the group of men all worked together, each doing what was necessary to get the job done. Albert Pugh was simply one of the gang, serious and hardworking.
‘Blimey, all this done and no foreman with a whistle!’ Kate teased. ‘There must be a war on!’
‘I bet all this is getting done in a rush so the visiting Area Manager doesn’t come here and find us poor helpless girls sleeping in a tent,’ Ethel said loudly.
‘I am the Area Manager,’ the serious-looking individual who had been working all afternoon told them. ‘And I have been trying since before you arrived to get this hut delivered.’
‘Thanks,’ the girls muttered.
‘Is it bomb-proof?’ asked Ethel with a grin.
‘You’ll go into the slit trench wearing your tin helmets as before,’ he replied.
‘No sense of humour,’ whispered Kate sadly.
Albert Pugh surprised them even more the following morning by being at the canteen before them, having the fire in the range blazing merrily and a kettle boiling for their cups of tea. When Ethel filled the trolley and set off for the hangars with tea for the engineers and ground staff, he went with her.
‘Is there anything you want to report?’ he asked.
‘Not now we have somewhere warm to sleep and to spread our possessions.’
‘I’m really sorry about the tent. These buildings are slow to come and they’re allocated according to need.’
‘That puts us in our place then, doesn’t it?’ she retorted.
‘You should have been allotted extra pay, hard-living allowance. I’ll see if I can claim back pay for you.’
She glanced at him, his face shadowed in the gloom of the early morning. He looked sad and she at once apologized.
‘Sorry, I’m sure you’re doing your best.’
‘He was in Norway,’ one of the men told her later.
‘During the evacuation?’
An Army of Smiles Page 6
