by Annie Murray
We’re all so young, and a lot of the blokes training as pilots have never even driven a car – then we’re all being put in charge of these huge planes. If you stop to think about it, it’s madness. But then I suppose there are a lot of things it’s better not to stop and think about in this war. Some aspects of life here I could do without – some things about living cheek by jowl with a whole load of other lads can be . . . Well, I won’t go into detail. But most of them are terrific. And it can be enormous fun.
At the end, he wrote:
I’m really sorry, Sylvia. Mother told me what happened – with Ian. She says you’re not yourself and everyone’s worried about you. Sounds really rotten. I wish with all my heart that I could find a way to cheer you up. I suppose I’m a bit in awe of you, as you’ve been like ‘a big sis’ to me – you and Audrey too, though Audrey’s far more frightening! Anyway, this is just to say that I do hope you’ll be feeling better soon, Sylv. If Ian could treat you like that, well . . . I don’t want to say anything bad about him, as I know how keen you were on him, but what a fool he was to let you go, that’s all I can say.
She was touched by the letter. It felt strange, the idea of writing letters to Laurie. Little Laurie Gould! But he was not so little now. She was having to adjust to the fact. And she had known him all her life. He felt safe and kind. She wrote back quickly, suddenly feeling that he was someone she could turn to, telling him more about what had happened, about Kitty. Again Laurie must have written back the day he received it and, when she received that letter, she did the same.
It was Laurie’s third letter that she took out to read again now. It truly warmed her heart, and she had carried it with her ever since it arrived:
Dear Sylvia,
I may not be able to write much today, but I want to get another letter off to you. Thanks for yours – it means such a lot to hear from you, and I liked your descriptions of the Goods Yard. Your ‘Froggy’ foreman sounds a bit of a character! I’ve discovered from being away that I like writing letters. It’s like talking to you, but different somehow. You can think more about what you say.
I hope all is going well at home. It does seem very quiet over here, and safe. But they’re keeping us busy. I’m in class most of the day, learning all the stuff a navigator needs, and sometimes I feel as if my head’s going to explode with things like dead-reckoning (which means working out where you are – if only it was as simple as it sounds!). Anyway, time is too short to bore you with the details. Otherwise, we have also been exploring the town. I’m coming to the conclusion that now the novelty of Canada has worn off, I really prefer good old England after all. Everything here is too spread out and a bit too new. It just doesn’t feel right – although I suppose one could get used to it. I’d love you to see it and tell me what you think.
I feel very shy saying this, Sylv, but I don’t half miss you. I’ve realized, being away from home, just how much you mean to me. Well, maybe I had already begun to realize, but now I know for sure. You’re a great girl, and I find myself thinking about you so often and wishing we could sit and chat, with all the time in the world. I don’t want to say too much because I know you’re grieving for Ian. And us being childhood pals – well, maybe it would be a challenge to change into a new gear, if you like. All I will say is that there’s a heart that beats faster, over here in Canada, every time I think of you, and I want you to know that. I hope you won’t think the worse of me for saying so. Whatever you feel about me, just know that you have a very big admirer, who thinks of you with great fondness and appreciation.
The letter finished with a few more remarks about daily life, but it was this last paragraph that Sylvia read again and again. She was struck by how good Laurie was at saying on paper what he felt. And his words struck a chord deep within her – the feelings of this boy who was suddenly a man.
She read the letter several times and for a moment held it close to her heart, picturing his kindly face and remembering his voice. His words had stirred feelings in her that made her happy in a calm, warm way.
‘Laurie Gould,’ she said, out loud, ‘you’re a nice, nice man. Come home soon.’
They day was darkening. Looking up, she saw the clouds gathering overhead. Folding the letter safely into her pocket, she got up to hurry home.
Thirty-Five
September 1941
‘Are you with us today?’ Sergeant Nick Reynolds walked up behind Audrey.
She jumped, startled back to the present moment. ‘What? Oh, yes, sir, I am.’
She and three other WAAFs were standing in line holding one of the balloon ropes on the airfield, in front of the huge hangars. It was another warm day and she was enjoying the feel of the sun on her upturned face. The balloon was tugging against their restraining hold, so there was a pleasing pull on her muscles. She was the last in line today, at the back.
Nick Reynolds kept moving, as if he had come all this way just to inspect their work. But as he walked past Audrey he breathed, very low, ‘Fancy a drink tonight? Eightish?’
Audrey nodded, almost without thinking. It would have been hard to refuse. As Nick walked away towards another group of WAAFs, the girl in front of Audrey turned and made a face at her. ‘You’re in there, by the looks of it!’
Audrey gave what she hoped was a mysterious smile. Narrowing her eyes, she watched Reynolds’s departing form. He had a straight back and carried himself well, his short fair hair neat against his head. She liked the way he walked. A man, her mind offered the words. Go for a drink with him. He’s a man – a nice one. Normal. That’s what you are. A normal woman going out for a drink with a good-looking man.
As soon as she and Dorrie had arrived back late on Sunday night they had released each other’s hands and launched themselves among all the other girls in their huts. They had been so busy that Audrey had scarcely seen Dorrie since. In fact she had been throwing herself into activities and socializing. Caught between aching to see Dorrie, who above all people she longed to see, and fearing and dreading it, she kept herself in constant motion. Even when they were not working, she was cleaning her bed space in the hut and chatting feverishly to Maggie, Cora and the others – all the while trying not to think about what had happened in High Wycombe.
Now that they were back here, the whole thing felt like a dream. She only let herself remember when lying in bed, when doing so was so full of memories of Dorrie’s fulsome body lying beside her. What had really happened? They had not done anything much at all, she told herself. There had been those snatched kisses, caresses under the bedclothes. But the thought of Dorrie – her full breasts, her lips – immediately filled her with an ache of desire. She almost tried to persuade herself that Dorrie was just being friendly. They were just pals – girls together. They had not talked about it. It all felt like a beautiful, loving dream. But now, back here, whatever could it mean? She felt ashamed, and terrified of anyone finding out. She tried to imagine taking Dorrie home, her Mom and Dad knowing what had gone on, and she was full of horror. Whatever happened, whatever you might call it – it had to stop.
At the end of their afternoon shift, once they had the balloon securely bedded down and put away, the transport came out to the airfield to pick them up. Audrey saw a familiar shape at the driving wheel. With a melting sensation inside, she saw Dorrie’s bouncy hair under her cap, the shape of her face and the quizzical angle of her slender eyebrows. Audrey’s body gave a throb of recognition. She took a deep breath and prepared to act normally.
Dorrie turned the truck with its winch, braking near the balloon squad. Her eyes sought out Audrey.
‘What’re you doing here?’ Audrey called to Dorrie, trying to sound as if she might be talking to someone with whom she wasn’t besottedly in love, whose very outline didn’t make her feel like taking her in her arms.
‘We had to do a swap,’ Dorrie called, with no further explanation. But Audrey knew what the explanation was: Dorrie had managed to exchange jobs with someone else, in order t
o be close to her. Sitting perched on the back of the open truck, Audrey knew that her feelings were at war with each other. As soon as they stopped, she knew Dorrie would find a way of speaking to her. While this was exactly what Audrey longed for, she also knew she would try to fight it and avoid Dorrie. What else was there to do? They could hardly carry on the way they were at the Coopers’ house, could they?
She jumped down as soon as the truck braked and started walking briskly away towards the NAAFI, laughing and chatting with some of her squad.
‘Audrey!’ She heard Dorrie’s voice ring out behind her and she felt like a betrayer, turning casually to her as if to say, ‘Oh – who are you again?’
‘Hang on,’ Dorrie said, running to catch up.
‘You go on,’ Audrey said to the others.
‘There’s a picture on tonight, if you fancy it,’ Dorrie said. Now that they were alone she seemed edgy, as if she was afraid of Audrey and what she might say.
‘Oh,’ Audrey said. ‘The trouble is, I’ve just said I’ll go for a drink – with Nick Reynolds. Sorry, Dorrie.’ She saw her friend trying not to show that she was hurt. ‘He just asked me, when we were out on the field. It was difficult to say no.’
‘Okay, never mind,’ Dorrie said lightly. Audrey was about to turn away when Dorrie said in a low voice, ‘Aud – I’m missing you terribly.’
Audrey stared at the ground. She felt the blood rise in her face, in a whole confusion of desire at the very sound of Dorrie’s voice, yet embarrassment at her words. What if anyone heard? They were two women! This was unnatural – it could not be happening.
‘Well,’ she said, all awkwardness now, and unable to meet Dorrie’s eyes. ‘I miss you too. But we’re back here now, aren’t we?’ She turned and walked away.
She met Nick Reynolds at eight and he invited her to come to the sergeants’ mess. He was waiting near the entrance when she arrived and gave his easy smile at the sight of her. He was a good-looking, relaxed-seeming man, whom Audrey had realized was quite some years older than her – over thirty, she thought, looking at him as he greeted her.
‘Good timing!’ he said. ‘Come on – let’s get a drink.’
As they turned into the entrance to the mess, she felt his hand on her back, gentle, but as if steering her. Audrey felt a combination of reassurance and irritation at this.
The mess was rowdy, with jazzy music blaring out and lots of male chat and laughter and smoke. There were other WAAFs sprinkled about, and Audrey caught sight for a moment of Cora’s pale hair across the room. Cora waved and mouthed something at her, but she didn’t catch it.
Nick brought the half of bitter that she had requested and sat next to her with his pint. ‘Cheers!’ He grinned, holding up the glass. ‘At last you’ve agreed to come and have a drink with me. That feels like something to celebrate.’
It was an effort to say much in the mess as it was so noisy, so she gave him a smile, wondering why a nice man of his age was not married. Then she wondered if he was, in fact. She had never asked. She was not sure she wanted to know.
‘How long’ve you been here?’ she asked, having almost to shout.
‘Only about twenty minutes,’ he quipped.
Audrey put her head on one side. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Oh – months. Forever.’ Nick had to lean close for them to hear each other. His powerful body pressed against her shoulder. Audrey shifted on the bench. She had her uniform skirt on and eased it a little further down. ‘They brought a few extras in, when the women were taken onto the job, but I was here before, training the blokes. You must’ve seen me around.’ He took a drink and then said, ‘Well, you’ve not got much longer here, have you? You’ll be trained up by the end of the month. How’re you finding it?’
‘It’s hard work,’ Audrey admitted. ‘I’ve found muscles I never knew I had. But it’s much better than sitting in the office.’
One of Nick’s friends came up then, with a WAAF whom Audrey didn’t know, and the four of them chatted for a time. The WAAF was rather a posh girl from Kent, who kept talking about her horses, and Audrey found her rather snooty. She was glad when they moved away and Nick suggested they go out and get some air. ‘This is one of the few really fine days,’ he said. ‘Make the most of it, shall we?’
The sun was just setting as they went out into what could almost be called a balmy evening. Nick took Audrey’s arm and she linked hers through his, feeling his hard, manly warmth beside her. Unlike Dorrie, he was much taller than her.
This is the proper thing, she thought, and her thoughts were like a harsh running commentary. I’m walking arm-in-arm with a man. She was glad there were a lot of personnel around to see them. Audrey Whitehouse with Nick Reynolds. Man and woman. All as it should be.
As soon as they found a quiet spot, beyond the huts, Nick began to kiss her. Audrey responded enthusiastically. She was a woman and she was attractive to men. This is what she should be doing, what was expected. But all the time, as Nick’s kisses became more forceful and passionate, it was as if Audrey was viewing the whole thing from the outside. And she was glad when she heard people passing them, hoping she would be seen in Nick’s embrace.
Nick pulled back for a moment, an aroused, almost drugged look on his face. ‘God, you’re a cracking woman, you are, Audrey. I thought that the moment I saw you.’ His hand pressed into the small of her back, bringing her closer. ‘Christ, I want you.’
She was desirable then. She was a real woman. But she felt trapped by his need. How could she get out of this?
‘It’s early days,’ she said, drawing back. But she did not want to close the door on his attraction to her. Nick was nice enough, when he was not in this state. And she needed to continue seeing him. ‘No need to rush, is there?’ she added lightly.
When she got back to the hut and climbed into bed, she found a note tucked under the bedclothes. The lights were still on and she looked around to see if anyone was watching her. None of the others were taking any notice. She wondered when on earth Dorrie had put it there, and if anyone had seen, because she knew immediately who it was from. Keeping it well down in her lap, she opened it: Let’s meet tomorrow. I’ll be driving you again. D x
Thirty-Six
Audrey slept very badly that night. Her dreams were full of looming faces: Dorrie’s and Nick’s, both huge and distorted, both trying to make love to her. In the dream she kept pushing them away and running across the airfield, which was endlessly enormous. She had an idea that she might catch hold of the ropes of one of the balloons and be pulled up into safety. As she was swept off her feet she woke with a gasp of panic, the blood thudding in her ears.
After a few minutes, tears came. She felt so confused, afraid of what she felt – barely knowing what she did feel any more. Being with Dorrie that weekend was one of the best times of her life. She loved the talking and joking, the way their eyes met with such understanding and mischief. But the other things – the desire, the way they had slid into each other’s arms. Surely that was wrong and unnatural? She dug around for the word in her mind. Homosexual. Was it? Surely that was just men? She’d seen one or two WAAF girls in pairs, which the other girls nudged each other about. ‘Those two are, you know . . .’ this usually with a wink, ‘ . . . close.’ But that was not her, was it? She turned over in bed in an agony of feeling, remembering the hurt she had seen in Dorrie’s eyes when she said she was going out with Nick last night. It was as if she had to make a choice between the two of them. If only Dorrie was a man, she found herself thinking. But then she wouldn’t be Dorrie, would she? She almost groaned out loud with the ache of it all.
Dorrie was not driving them the next morning, to Audrey’s disappointment and relief. They spent another warm day out on the airfield with the balloons and then did a couple of hours’ rope-splicing. Now they were more familiar with how to do things, it was easier to chat and she managed to forget her troubles for a time.
She only saw Dorrie at the end of the shift
, drinking tea in the NAAFI. As Audrey walked in, she spotted Dorrie immediately, at a table laughing with another driver. She was taken aback by the moment of jealousy that she experienced, seeing Dorrie smiling into the other girl’s face. Then Dorrie caught sight of her and waved, smiling.
‘Hello, Aud – come and join us!’
Audrey fetched her mug of tea, feeling a wave of light-heartedness come over her. Perhaps she was just being silly. Dorrie was her friend, that was all. Maybe she was just a bit more physical than some girls, but did that matter? After all Dorrie had been away to boarding school, and those girls were always a bit odd, she’d heard.
‘Look at the state of you,’ Audrey said as she sat down. Dorrie’s face was blackened with smears of oil and her nails were filthy.
Dorrie made a face. ‘Is it that bad? I’ll go and ablute when I’ve had this. Joan and I,’ she nodded at the other girl, a rather horse-faced woman who smiled toothily at Audrey, ‘have been driving some top brass about. Fairly top brass, anyway. Unfortunately, in my case, the car broke down – himself was none too pleased!’
Audrey laughed. ‘Oh dear. Bet you weren’t popular.’
‘No. A visiting wing commander – he was trying to catch a train as well. I got him to the next one, and he was pretty civil about it. In fact I thought he was going to pat me on the head.’
‘I’m glad it wasn’t me,’ Joan said. ‘I’d have gone all to bits.’
‘No, you wouldn’t,’ Dorrie said, preparing to bite into a dry-looking currant bun. ‘You’d have got your head under the bonnet like anyone else. So,’ she looked at Audrey, ‘you been out on the field all day?’
