by Daisy Styles
‘What’s the matter? Don’t you like it?’ he teased.
Emily couldn’t respond immediately; she was thinking of Bill’s sweet young kisses. Their innocent lovemaking had been tender and experimental. He’d always been wary of offending her and they’d both agreed that she would be a virgin on their wedding day. Keeping that promise had been a struggle, especially after Bill joined up. The night before he left for active service they had both longed to make love, and if it hadn’t been for Bill respecting her so much they almost certainly would have.
‘I … I, er …’ She stumbled over her words, but what she wanted to say to Freddie was that she’d never experienced such boldness. Frightened that he’d laugh at her naivety, she simply said, ‘It was just a bit quick.’
The frosty air rang with Freddie’s loud, mocking laughter.
‘Jesus! What do you guys get off on up here in the wilderness? There’s a war on, honey, how slow do you want me to be?’
Emily blushed as she struggled to her feet. For all of Freddie’s sexy ways and charming looks, she wasn’t having herself or her kind mocked.
‘We manage well enough,’ she said with icy haughtiness as she brushed snow from her hair. ‘We certainly don’t need foreigners to show us how to conduct ourselves.’
Seeing he’d gone too far, Freddie jumped to his feet.
‘Babe, I’m sorry,’ he murmured as he gently took her resistant hand. ‘You just blow me away,’ he added as he swept his palm across her flaming angry cheeks. ‘Forgive me, pleeease?’ he begged with a heart-stopping smile.
Feeling rather silly, Emily quickly nodded and smiled.
‘Come on,’ she said as she tucked her arm in his. ‘Let’s walk before we freeze to death.’
Freddie smiled as he moved in close.
‘I promise not to move so fast, though I can’t make any promises if you keep looking at me with those big blue eyes,’ he said huskily.
After wading through snow drifts four feet high Freddie led Emily into an old, disused stable that still had a deep litter of straw on the floor. She was too cold to think beyond finding some shelter.
‘We can warm up in here,’ he said as he closed the door then pulled a small flask from his inside pocket. ‘A drop of Scotch will put some fire in your veins,’ he said, handing the flask to Emily, who took a sip then grimaced at the sour taste.
Freddie took a deep swig from the flask then guided Emily to an untidy heap of hay bales in a corner of the stable.
‘Come on, gorgeous, I’m going to warm you up,’ he said as he threw off his coat and gently laid her on it.
Lying in Freddie’s strong arms, Emily was no longer able to hold back. He soon had her hot and bothered enough to cast off her coat and Alice’s wellington boots.
‘You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on,’ he said in a voice thick with desire.
Emily couldn’t believe what she was doing but, with her head in a spin and all her senses clamouring for his touch, she was lost to everything but her overwhelming need for him.
Unbidden, an image of Bill wearing his brand-new Lancashire Fusiliers uniform popped into her head. She’d promised to wait for him, to always be there for him. As passion blazed through her, Emily thought defiantly of Bill’s last disastrous visit home.
Forcing herself to stop thinking of Bill, she gripped Freddie, whose advances grew stronger as his hands went from her face and neck to her full breasts and hard nipples.
‘Take your clothes off,’ he whispered. ‘Let me see you naked.’
Swept away by a passion she had never previously known, Emily moaned with desire as Freddie reached down to remove her underwear.
‘Yes,’ she murmured. ‘Yes …’
A dog barking outside in the snow sent both of them jumping sky-high.
As if waking from a trance, Emily stared in disbelief at her open blouse.
‘What am I doing?’ she gasped.
‘Hey, honey,’ he laughed softly. ‘What does it look like we’re doing?’ He dipped his head to kiss her again.
‘No!’ Emily cried as she pulled her blouse tightly around her. ‘I-I can’t! I shouldn’t,’ she panicked. ‘I’m engaged to Bill.’
‘And he’s not here,’ Freddie said nonchalantly.
Stunned by his dismissive tone Emily struggled to stand up.
What was she doing? Was she out of her mind to let things go this far?
‘I’m sorry, Freddie, but this is wrong.’
‘You weren’t saying that a few minutes ago,’ Freddie teased. ‘Come on, don’t spoil it, baby.’
Fastening the buttons on her blouse, Emily blushed as she replied, ‘Please, Freddie, can we just talk?’
‘Talk!’ he scoffed as he stood up and angrily wiped straw off his uniform. ‘What kind of bullshit is that? One minute you’re begging for it, the next you want to talk. Gimme a break!’
Realizing the enormity of her mistake in leading him on, Emily quickly apologized.
‘I’m sorry, Freddie,’ she said again. ‘It’s as much my fault as yours.’
‘Too right it is,’ seethed Freddie. ‘Here I am freezing my ass off on the bloody moors whilst you whinge on about your stupid fiancé. How come you didn’t think about lover boy sooner?’
Colour flooded Emily’s face; she was ashamed of herself for giving in to Freddie and furious with him for bad-mouthing Bill. She didn’t know whether to walk away or burst into tears.
‘I’m sorry …’ was all she seemed able to say.
‘To hell with sorry!’ snapped Freddie as he strode out of the stable, still wiping bits of straw off his Royal Canadian Air Force uniform.
Fighting back tears, Emily pulled on her coat and hurried after him, but he was storming off through the snow without a backward glance.
‘FREDDIE!’ she shouted.
Still walking away, Freddie called angrily over his shoulder.
‘Go and find some other schmuck to tease!’
With her head bent and her shoulders hunched, Emily walked away, oblivious of the dog that had disturbed their lovemaking now leaping joyously over the snow drifts with its owner, who squinted to get a better view of the pair.
‘Ten to a penny they’ve been up to no good,’ the dog walker chuckled to himself, then he frowned as he recognized the good-looking woman with the flaming auburn hair hurrying away.
‘Bloody hell, that’s Emily Yates,’ he gasped in amazement. ‘Wait till young Bill finds out what she’s up to in his absence!’
Back at the Phoenix Alice and Lillian were visiting Agnes and Elsie in the hospital complex. Both patients, though bruised and scratched, were now on their feet.
‘We’ll soon be back working on the bomb line,’ plucky Elsie joked.
‘You’re going nowhere until you’re properly well,’ said Tommy as he laid a protective arm around her shoulder. Elsie blushed at his touch but her face was radiant with happiness.
‘Will you tell your dad?’ Alice asked the happy couple.
Elsie vehemently shook her head.
‘He’d kill Tommy,’ she replied with a tremor in her voice.
Looking furious, Tommy swept a hand through his fine mousy hair.
‘Who ses?’ he said staunchly.
Elsie looked him straight in the eye.
‘I’m not kidding you; he’d beat up the pair of us.’
Seeing her question had upset Elsie, Alice swiftly said, ‘Not to worry. You’re old enough to do what you want and your dad’s far enough away not to trouble you.’
‘Just let him bloody try,’ Tommy muttered under his breath.
Lillian winked as Malc came wandering down the ward towards them. ‘Oh-oh! Here comes trouble!’
‘Hiya!’ Malc said as he approached.
‘Come to take the sick and the lame back to work, have you?’ cheeky Lillian teased.
‘At least I didn’t try to blow ’em up in the first place!’ Malc retorted sharply.
Seeing poor Lillian
blushing underneath her perfect make-up, Agnes chided Malc.
‘That was a bit near the bone.’
Malc shrugged.
‘I say as I see,’ he replied.
‘Then try not to, it doesn’t help,’ Agnes replied.
Staring daggers at Malc, Lillian snapped, ‘To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?’
Malc nodded towards Alice.
‘Featherstone wants for’t see yon brain box,’ he said.
Alice looked at him in surprise. ‘Me?’
Malc nodded.
‘Looks like we’ve got more of them bloody useless French manuals for you to translate.’
As he and Alice left the ward, Lillian rolled her eyes.
‘Bastard!’ she seethed. ‘As if I don’t know how much trouble I’ve caused without him rubbing it in.’
‘You won’t be calling him names when he comes chasing after you with silk nylons and chocolates,’ Agnes reminded her.
‘Won’t I?’ Lillian replied contemptuously. ‘After the harm I’ve done to you and Elsie my days with Malc are well and truly over!’
Once inside Mr Featherstone’s office Alice looked around for the French manuals she presumed she’d be translating.
‘Sit down, Alice,’ said Mr Featherstone stiffly.
Alice immediately sensed his tension.
‘Is something wrong?’
Mr Featherstone shook his head.
‘Far from it, young lady,’ he replied as he politely pulled out a chair for her. As soon as Alice was settled, he continued, ‘How do you fancy taking your French skills a step further?’
Alice looked at Mr Featherstone in disbelief. How could he, the boss of a bomb factory, help her improve her French?
‘Well …’ she said slowly. ‘I’m always keen to learn more but I’m not sure how that can be achieved right now in Pendle.’
‘We’re not talking Pendle, Alice, we’re talking London – the War Office, to be precise.’ Mr Featherstone paused to let the enormity of his words sink in. ‘The powers that be are recruiting fluent French speakers like you.’
‘Oh, well, I’m not sure I’d call myself absolutely fluent, Mr Featherstone,’ Alice protested.
‘You’re far too modest, Alice,’ he insisted. ‘Anyway I’ve let it be known to the powers above …’
What is he talking about? Alice wondered as she watched Mr Featherstone rock complacently up and down from his toes to his heels.
‘I had no hesitation in telling them that we’ve got a regular little French speaker right here at the Phoenix, who is an excellent Bomb Girl to boot,’ Mr Featherstone concluded with a proud smile.
Mystified, Alice smiled blankly at her boss, who was clearly more excited than she was.
‘What do they want me to do?’ she asked.
‘That’s for them to tell and you to find out,’ he said, tapping the side of his nose as if it was a secret. ‘Mark my words, you’ll be hearing from the powers that be, Alice. Mark my words.’
When Alice rejoined her friends in their digs they immediately asked what Mr Featherstone had wanted.
Alice answered with absolute honesty.
‘I have no idea!’
A few days later Alice was surprised to find an official, buff-coloured envelope in her pigeonhole at work. With Emily on one side of her and Lillian on the other, she tore it open to find it contained a letter from the War Office and a train ticket for travel the following Thursday to London’s Euston station.
‘Ooh! Going on holiday?’ Lillian enquired as she eyed the train ticket.
‘Well … ? What does it say?’ Emily asked as she nodded at the letter Alice was clutching.
Alice’s eyes scanned the contents of the letter.
‘The War Office are interested in my French skills,’ she answered quickly.
‘Ha, ha! French letters!’ joked Lillian.
‘How come the War Office know about you?’ Emily asked.
‘Mr Featherstone must have recommended me after I’d translated those French manuals for him,’ Alice answered.
‘Lucky sod! A free trip to London and all expenses paid,’ Lillian giggled. ‘Maybe I should take up French too!’
Back in their digs Alice read the rest of the letter when she had a private moment in the bedroom she shared with Emily.
You are instructed to make your way to Simpson’s-in-the-Strand, London, where one of our men will be waiting for you. Train tickets are enclosed and details will follow.
Alice took a deep breath as she folded the letter and shoved it to the bottom of her cardigan pocket. Today was Tuesday; she had just over a week to prepare for her mysterious meeting with the Man on the Strand.
CHAPTER 12
Churchill’s Secret Army
The next day Alice rounded up Lillian and Emily straight after work and the three of them rushed to the hospital to see their two friends, but they were shocked to find Elsie in floods of tears.
‘What’s wrong? Has she had a relapse?’ Alice asked Agnes, who was sat on Elsie’s bed rocking the sobbing girl in her arms.
Agnes shook her head.
‘Tommy’s just had to leave,’ she said. ‘He had no idea but his unit has just been posted to Tobruk. They’re literally moving out tonight,’ she added quietly. ‘It’s been a terrible shock.’
Emily’s heart skipped a beat. Like Tommy and most of the local Pendle lads, Bill was in the Lancashire Fusiliers – in a different division, which was why they had different postings – but would he be on his way to Africa too?
‘I’ve only just met him,’ poor Elsie wailed. ‘I can’t believe he’s had to go away so suddenly. What am I going to do?’ With tears coursing down her cheeks she unashamedly turned to her friends. ‘If anything should happen to ’im, I’d kill myself, I really would.’
Lillian smiled as she ruffled Elsie’s fine hair. She was wracking her brains trying to think of something that would cheer the poor kid up, even if that something wasn’t entirely accurate.
‘Listen, have you seen Casablanca?’ she asked.
Elsie wiped away a tear and looked blank.
‘Well, if you had seen it you’d know that North Africa looks like a picnic compared to any other war zone. Tommy’ll be right as rain, and home before you know it,’ she assured her.
Elsie didn’t look convinced.
‘Come on, Elsie,’ Lillian urged. ‘I’m sure Tommy left with a brave smile on his face?’
Elsie nodded as she recalled his last sweet gentle kiss and his determinedly upbeat tone of voice.
‘Wait for me, sweetheart?’ he’d whispered.
‘For ever,’ was her answer. Then Elsie had sat up straight. ‘I’ll be strong for you, Tommy,’ she’d answered with a valiant smile.
As Lillian, Emily and Alice gathered around Elsie, reassuring her that Tommy would be fine, Agnes kept her mouth firmly shut. Since she’d lost her husband, who could be alive or dead, she had no words of comfort to give. This war was nothing but a long agony of waiting, praying and hoping. Poor Elsie had joined an army of women who’d been doing just that for a very long time.
The day before Alice’s interview in London, Lillian washed and set her silky blonde hair.
‘Chignon or bob?’ she asked.
Alice considered for a few seconds.
‘Er, what do you think, Em?’
She turned to Emily, who was gnawing at her nails deep in thought.
‘EM!’ she shouted.
Emily jumped sky-high.
‘Ooh! What?’ she gasped.
‘Chignon or bob … my hair?’ she said, pointing to her damp locks.
‘Er … ?’ Emily replied blankly.
Lillian quickly proceeded to brush out Alice’s hair.
‘Let’s go for a bob. We could be here all day waiting for gormless over there!’
Alice looked worriedly at her best friend. She instinctively knew what was preoccupying her: Freddie. She’d never been the same since she’d first clapped
eyes on him.
Anxious about leaving, albeit only for a few days, Alice said softly, ‘What’s on your mind, lovie?’
Emily turned her tear-brimmed eyes to Alice as she blurted out, ‘I two-timed on Bill with Freddie!’
Ever the realist, Lillian retorted, ‘Well, we all know that!’
Now that Emily had started, nothing could stop her.
‘I got so carried away, I felt like I was dreaming, floating on air …’ she said as she struggled to find words that explained the ecstasy of their kisses.
Lillian looked at her sceptically.
‘Really? The earth never moved for me with young Malcolm, that’s for sure!’ she laughed. ‘But then Malc’s not exactly Mr Universe, more Mr Puniverse!’
‘You don’t let your emotions run away with you, Lil, you always follow the money,’ Alice pointed out.
‘Well, next time will be different. I’m done with making deals with second-rate fixers,’ Lillian said firmly.
‘Did you … you know?’ Alice asked.
Emily shook her auburn curls.
‘No,’ she said quietly.
‘Why not?’ teased Lillian.
‘First I thought of Bill, and what a bitch I was breaking promises I’d vowed to keep, then a man walking his dog on the moors disturbed us,’ Emily admitted. ‘Freddie was livid, I can tell you,’ she added ruefully.
‘I bet!’ Lillian exclaimed. ‘He’s the kind of good-looking guy that always gets what he wants. He’ll be looking elsewhere if you don’t come up with the goods, Em.’
‘Well, let him look!’ exclaimed furious Emily. ‘Just because there’s a war on doesn’t mean that all women are available for sex.’
‘He probably thinks the Phoenix is one big knocking shop!’ joked Lillian.
As she and Alice burst out laughing, Emily stayed guiltily preoccupied.
‘I’ve never let Bill undo my blouse,’ she confessed with a blush. ‘He respected me, said we had to wait till we were married, but then Mr Wonderful Canadian swings by and I forget everything. Oh, what have I done?’ she wailed.
