An Army of Smiles

by Grace Thompson

  ‘It was Colin Bailey from the farm,’ Sid told her softly.

  Ethel felt the shock of it invade every part of her; then she allowed her mind to wander over the thoughts and fears she had suffered since Glenys’s tragic death. Colin Bailey was a kind, gentle man who had always been a friend but had never interfered in her life. The truth was far kinder than any of her imaginings. ‘I wish Glenys had told me,’ she said at last, ‘then she needn’t have died.’ With Kate and Rosie holding her and soothing her, Sid comforting her mother, she cried, while upstairs the man she had always called Dad cried too.

  They didn’t stay long but before they went for their bus Kate and Rosie went for a walk while Ethel went to see Colin.

  ‘I’m glad you know,’ he said smiling. ‘My only regret is that I didn’t know in time or we’d have married, young as we were. Your mother had taken the child, given you her name before I knew and Glenys begged me to keep it a secret. I’ve watched you grow and taken pleasure in the way you have developed into a lovely, capable young woman. I was on hand if you needed me but content to watch from a distance and marvel at the wonderful person your sister and I gave life to. I’m still here and always will be. But nothing will change unless you want it to.’

  The three girls turned back and waved from the bus as Colin, Sid and the woman she still called mother stood watching them leave. Ethel wasn’t able to discuss what had happened and Kate and Rosie understood. Rosie asked just one question. ‘Are you glad we made you go?’

  A still tearful Ethel simply nodded. As Rosie well knew, sometimes a nod was sufficient.

  * * *

  The war continued to rage in Italy, Russia and the Far East as well as nearer to home, in Europe. Caen had been taken by the Allies and London was again being attacked from the air, this time with pilotless planes, V1s that quickly earned the nickname doodlebugs or buzz bombs.

  City dwellers became aware and quickly learned to recognize the sound of this new terror. They would watch nervously, knowing that when the engine stopped, the flying bomb would fall to the ground at terrific speed bringing death and terror. After the engine fell silent, they would count to seven and wait for the devastating blast that followed. Life or death was decided in those seven seconds.

  When Ethel, Kate and Rosie returned to camp it was to learn to their horror that gunners on the ground were told to fire at these planes and try to shoot them down.

  ‘Shoot them down? But we’re underneath them!’ Kate gasped. ‘And with stores filled with petrol and ammunition all around us? Are you mad? You mean we’re standing here while you lot are trying to bring the bombs down on ourselves?’

  ‘You’ll be safe enough in the slit trenches,’ they were told laconically by one of the gunners.

  ‘You make sure you aim to miss till I’ve got my hat on!’ Kate warned.

  ‘You should have let me keep my best hat instead of throwing it under that train,’ Rosie grinned. ‘That would have stopped them!’

  One day when several raids had disrupted the whole day, preventing Ethel from completing her tasks; when the cakes were over-cooked and the potatoes ran out before they had finished serving lunch and a dozen other small incidents had annoyed her, Albert came in and looked around as though hoping to see someone else he could approach. He eventually asked if the books and money had been made up for him to check.

  ‘No they haven’t, and I won’t get them done until tomorrow because I’m going out!’ she snapped, irritated by his juvenile behaviour.

  ‘You know they have to be completed each day,’ he said stiffly. ‘It’s the only way to ensure accuracy. No one can rely on their memory being precise if there’s a query.’

  ‘And talking about queries,’ she said angrily, ‘what upset you last time we went out? Was it because I said a few swears? Or offended your inhibited, pompous heart by some other such dreadful misdemeanour?’ Her day had been so frustrating she spoke more fiercely than she normally would, her patience had all been used up. ‘Or was it your stupidity in proposing, so you could seduce me into bed?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have been the first to do that, would I?’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ she demanded. ‘Who’s been lying to you?’

  ‘Lying? Walter was very convincing when he told me that you and he… that I wouldn’t be the first.’

  Anger left her like air out of a burst balloon and laughter took its place. ‘Walter? You believed him? Walter Phillips? He’d be so lucky!’

  ‘He told me that—’

  ‘Forget it, Albert. I’m laughing at you, not pathetic Walter who has to lie, to pretend, because no one will give him a moment of their time. Me and Walter? What a laugh, wait till I tell Rosie and Kate!’

  ‘I’m sorry. I—’

  ‘Don’t be sorry. I’m not. It’s shown me just what a fool I’ve been to think you could even be a friend, let alone something more. Friends trust each other. Walter! You amaze me! You believed that of me? And without even allowing me to answer? Goodbye, Albert.’ She was still laughing when she went to find the others.

  Predictably, Kate was writing to Vincent. Beside her was a notepad covered with surprisingly good sketches of wedding gowns, together with small bridesmaids’ dresses coloured faintly in pink crayon.

  ‘Mum thinks it’s my favourite colour and I’d hate to disappoint her,’ she explained.

  They were in and out of bed that night with constant air raid warnings and Hitler’s latest weapon causing havoc in the cities. The gunners were improving their technique and some were being shot from the skies before reaching their intended target. Others went off course and fell harmlessly into the sea or the fields around south-east England.

  Besides the V1 rockets, there were still a few raids in which bombs were dropped, and civilians as well as camps and airfields were strafed by lone aircraft on nuisance raids. There was a brief attack one morning, and during the lull that followed, the injured were taken to the sick bay, the mess cleared, then everything continued as before.

  A solitary plane turned back and came in low over the camp and fired into the groups of fitters working around the planes. The medics ran to the scene but no one was hurt. Rosie, who unlike Ethel had failed to become a proficient driver, was on her way back from taking food and hot drinks to the ground crews. It was very warm and as she was pushing the trolley towards the nearest line of lorries she was singing cheerfully, puffing her hair from her face between notes. Around the fields guns began to fire. Above, the plane was turning and coming in for another attack.

  Kate watched her friend and smiled. Rosie was stretched out, leaning forward, head down, struggling over the uneven ground towards the men, some of whom were walking towards her to help push the ungainly trolley.

  Kate saw, then heard the plane, realized that it was coming towards them, dropping down, increasing speed and heading for the field, and she ran, calling to Rosie to get down. The noise of the plane’s engines deafened her, and her voice was unheard by Rosie. The sound of the plane filled her head as it came closer, large and deadly, the unbelievably loud roar stopping all thought.

  The line of bullets crossed Kate’s back, the blood spurting up like roses blooming on the khaki cloth. Ethel and Rosie saw what had happened and the world seemed to stop and everything fell silent. The drone of the aircraft faded away. The sun still shone. The sky was still a clear, summer blue.

  Then voices and people running and Rosie bending down staring in utter disbelief at the still form of her friend. Someone gently turned Kate over and Rosie straightened her hair, folded it neatly around the face that was so lovely in repose.

  When they put Kate’s body on to a stretcher, covered her beautiful face and took her away, Rosie screamed and clung to the men, trying to stop them, and it was Ethel who helped her and soothed her until the screams died away.

  ‘We were so afraid she would lose Vincent,’ Rosie sobbed. ‘We didn’t once imagine it would be Kate who left us.’

  After Kate’s body
had been taken to her stricken parents for burial, Ethel and Rosie were given permission to attend the funeral.

  * * *

  The funeral was a large one as Kate’s parents were business people and well known in the town. Ethel and Rosie stood beside other friends of Kate and representatives of the Navy, Army and Air Force. Others too, those serving the war effort in munition factories and on the land, or in the manufacture of the hundreds of items needed by men and women in every branch of the services. Vincent stood beside Mr and Mrs Banner, sharing their grief, helping them with his love and strength.

  There were many there who had lost members of their own families, and others who had been bombed out of their homes, but today their thoughts were for the newly bereaved parents of Kate Banner and their quiet sympathy was touching. Crying could be heard, muffled by handkerchiefs, and the flowing of tears was part of the healing that would surely come one day.

  They were both staying with Rosie’s Nan and she went to church with them to listen to the vicar trying to explain why and how a caring God could allow such a cruel thing to happen. As they left the church, leaving the men to go with the cortege to the burial, they saw that Rosie’s mother had come too.

  It was all so unreal, unbelievable. Ethel and Rosie stared at each other at times as though begging for the joke to end and for Kate, their lovely, happy friend, to walk in and laugh and hug them. They watched Vincent sitting with Kate’s parents and wondered how he was coping, after seeing so much death and now sitting beside the coffin of his darling Kate – the one death he did not expect.

  ‘When we get back, how d’you feel about applying for overseas again?’ Ethel asked as they walked away from the grieving house. ‘I don’t think I can cope with staying on and expecting Kate to be there.’

  ‘The news is good. If we’re to go we might as well go now before we miss all the excitement. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be in Germany when the war ends?’

  * * *

  The Allied advance was steadily progressing towards Germany, the Naafi was present, serving the armies as they freed village after village, town after town. Bulk stores had been set up along the route, leapfrogging ahead beyond the front line. Rest centres were set up for the men to move back and relax for a while and recover before going once again in to the fighting. These were sometimes a hall, a large house, or a café, and sometimes a hotel that had been commandeered and made comfortable for the army’s use. At times the situation was very confused, the front line moving sometimes within hours, and the men and women were determined that the comforts and necessities should always be there when needed.

  ‘We’ll go,’ Ethel said. ‘But first we’ll go and sort out your Nan and your mother. We don’t have to be back for two more days.’

  Rosie had previously written to her Nan, telling her to invite her mother to call. With the funeral taking all of her thoughts she hadn’t mentioned this, but seeing her mother in church that day had given her hope.

  To her relief, Nan had offered no argument. She too had been upset by the death of Kate and perhaps it was that which made her decide to start putting things right between her daughter-in-law and Rosie.

  Having saved her meagre bacon ration for a few weeks and receiving it in a small and rather fat joint, she cooked mashed potatoes and a hard cabbage that she called ‘cannon-ball cabbage’, usually grown to feed animals. Served with a cheese sauce, the result was an insipid plateful. ‘No one can afford to be fussy any more,’ she said as an apology. ‘Edible means practically the same as eatable these days.’

  There were many meatless meals served in every household and they ate the meal appreciatively, aware of her generosity with her precious ration. So many meals consisted only of vegetables and gravy, that many declared that throughout those years of shortages, it was Bisto and Oxo which fed the nation.

  When the three members of the Dreen family sat down to talk, Ethel excused herself and went to the pictures. On her return, the atmosphere was relaxed and she thought that, against all the odds, Rosie had found a mother she could care for and maybe, one day, would learn to love. Lucky Rosie, she thought with a sigh.

  There would never be a loving reunion for her. How could she ever return to her family and be greeted with such affection? How could she forgive her father for the years of misery? Or her mother for allowing the dangerous situation to continue when she should have taken them away? She might visit but would never again call The Dell her home.

  Perhaps the kind of loyalty which made my mother stay is something special, she thought with a stab of guilt, something of which I am not capable. But from the viewpoint of the child that was me, it was not loyalty but cowardice. That oft-repeated blame placed at her mother’s feet had been comforting, a reason for her to perpetuate her refusal to consider her mother’s side, blame for her mother was a garment that sat too comfortably upon her, and it was now beginning to worry her. Growing doubts about the easy excuse for her resentment and hatred were keeping her awake.

  * * *

  On their return to camp, heavy-eyed with crying, Baba was there to greet them.

  Rosie smiled at him, hoping her face didn’t show either her pleasure or her regrets. She politely welcomed him back then left Ethel and him to talk. Once out of sight of the guard room, Baba opened his arms to Ethel and they hugged. Their joyful reunion made Ethel think again about love and sex and she knew that her feelings for Baba were more than a need to belong. She did belong. To him.

  ‘I have a father now, if I want him,’ she explained to Baba later. ‘And Mr and Mrs Bailey are my grandparents. And their daughter is my aunt. What d’you think of that?’ She was laughing with happiness and crying for Kate at the same time and Baba held her and soothed her when tears overcame her, understanding how she grieved.

  ‘I hope you’ll still have room in your full life for my three sisters,’ Baba laughed. ‘They’ll want a share of you too, mind.’

  ‘And I have a brother who’s my uncle and a mother who’s my grandmother and besides all that, I know I have an extended family in Rosie and Rosie’s Nan, plus her mother, who will always be there when I need them. Oh Baba, I miss Kate dreadfully, and I always will, but another part of me has never been happier. Is that thoughtless and hard, d’you think? To be so happy at such a time?’

  ‘Can you imagine Kate begrudging you a moment of it?’ Baba asked and Ethel cried some more.

  Loneliness need never be a fear, ever again. Her feelings for Baba were nothing to do with loneliness or an artificial pretence of belonging. Whatever happened to them, she wanted to be with him. ‘Perhaps this really is love,’ she whispered to a photograph of Kate. ‘You’d understand what I mean, wouldn’t you? You who loved everyone so much that you made people happier just by meeting you.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Baba and Ethel returned to a loving closeness that soothed some of her distress at the death of Kate and the confusion of her feelings toward her family. In his arms she could forget everything except his need of her and her willing response. He never brought up the subject of her family, but was always willing to listen when she felt the need to talk. His comments were few, he was non-judgemental about Dai and Molly, but his support of her unwillingness to return home in the full sense, and become a part of her family once more, was balm.

  She dreamed of a future far away from The Dell and all its tragedies, with Baba and, one day, their children. She would have his sisters and parents and the many cousins and aunts and uncles he had told her about who would become her family, and life would be perfect.

  Rosie’s attitude was different. She was grateful for the growing respect and understanding between Nan and her mother and deliriously happy to have her mother back in her life. She wanted that same happiness for Ethel. Ethel wouldn’t be complete until she accepted her family for what they were. To accept them she would first have to understand.

  ‘And you’ll never understand until you go back home, stay for a while and talk about it a
ll, including the death of Glenys,’ she told her friend often, but Ethel refused to give up on hating her father and despising her mother. Even the image of Dai sitting alone, uncared for, in that silent cell of a room failed to move her sufficiently to make her relent her decision. She tried not to think of Wesley at all.

  * * *

  Wesley, having lost contact with his ship, had attached himself to the canteen service close to the front line in France. Messages had been sent to inform the authorities of his present whereabouts but no word had yet come through to tell him where to report. He worked alongside the other canteen personnel but made no friends. He volunteered for anything others didn’t want to do and had become a bit of a joke. ‘Wesley’ll do it,’ became a sort of catch-phrase. If he was aware of this he did not react.

  Apart from the goods which came from the Bulk Issue Stores, Naafi staff were adept at finding additions to their supplies. Orchards long abandoned and forgotten lofts in barns were raided for fresh fruit. Gardens no longer tended by the owners, who had died or fled, were useful for the fresh vegetables they occasionally still held. There were even a few chickens roaming around and these were a popular addition to the rather boring contents of a stewpot. Having been brought up in the country, Wesley was talented in hunting skills and on occasions took a gun and returned with something edible, his shots causing concern to sentries of both sides.

  He was reasonably content. He concentrated on each day, each task, to the exclusion of everything else. His thoughts rarely wandered homewards. Home meant shame, guilt and the loss of Ethel’s love.

  * * *

  Sid wrote to Ethel regularly now contact had been made and he was unhappy about her decision to apply for overseas again. ‘What if it isn’t France?’ he asked, ‘although that would be bad enough. What if they send you to the Far East? Japan is still fighting and will be after Germany’s defeat. Think about it, please, Ethel,’ he ended. As a postscript, her mother had added her pleas for her not to go.