Gunner Girls and Fighter Boys

by Mary Gibson

  At the house the couple greeted everyone with glasses of champagne perry, made from pears gathered in the little orchard behind Angelcote House. Everyone gasped at the cake, a three-tier white froth, which they all knew was largely cardboard. But when Mrs Lloyd removed the small fruit cake from its hiding place in the lower tier, it really was a surprise.

  ‘Is there booze in this?’ Bee asked May, her mouth full.

  ‘Mum used the last of the major’s sherry to soak the dates! I don’t think she asked him.’

  Even though the wedding dinner contained every variant of rabbit, from potted to pie, it felt like a feast. The big dining room had been shut up for the duration and the long table covered in dust sheets, but today all the sheets were removed and the table polished till it shone. Now, standing at its head, the major struck his glass and called for order.

  ‘Please raise your glasses. To my dearest niece, Patricia, and her new husband, Mark!’

  Everyone cheered and the second toast required a top-up of the champagne perry.

  ‘And to her good friends, the brave gunner girls of the ATS!’

  This brought another resounding cheer from the rest of the guests. It wasn’t long before the champagne perry was gone and May saw Mark and the other lads carrying in several crates of beer. No one asked where they’d come from, but soon the party moved to sit round the grand piano, where Bill began playing some Vera Lynn favourites. Peggy asked for ‘Tomorrow is a Lovely Day’. And they all joined in the bitter-sweet song about that wonderful day, which was always coming and never seemed to arrive. But then May’s mother, who’d begun to relax once she’d seen her food such a success, broke in. ‘Give us some of the old songs, Bill – let’s have “Poverty Street”!’

  Her mother was soon leading them in a loud, rousing version. ‘When you’re living down in Poverty Street, nobody knocks on your door. When you’re living down in Poverty Street, the folks all know you’re poor.’

  Pat came over to May and sat on the arm of her chair, putting her arm round her friend. ‘Never thought I’d see my uncle joining in a sing-song – listen to him!’

  ‘But when your bits of silver turn into gold, they’ll drive away all your care. Then you’ll find that everybody’s knocking at your door, when you’re living in Golden Square!’

  ‘We’re slipping off now, May, dear. But I meant what I said about the wedding dress – don’t keep Bill waiting too long! I’ll be expecting an announcement when I get back!’

  ‘Good luck,’ May whispered. ‘See you at camp next week!’

  And as she watched her friend slip out, she saw a vision of herself wearing the same dress, looking as happy. But then it vanished, as Pat and Mark closed the door behind them.

  *

  Peggy spotted Pat and her new husband slipping away. Even though that wedding dress no longer had any happy associations for her, she remembered the hopes and dreams she’d had when she first married George. She’d felt so grand and grown-up, basking in her parents’ approval and her friends’ admiration. She’d thought she loved George and had she not met Harry she might never have known the difference. Harry had promised to marry her, but it felt as if they were married already. Sometimes, as she lay in bed at night, she thought she felt his arms round her, could feel his fingers stroking her face, could even hear him whispering her name. If the miles of separation were irrelevant, then what difference would a marriage certificate make? But she would marry, for Pearl’s sake. May had told her she was brave, but it was only Harry that had made her so.

  The insistent ringing of a telephone in the next room interrupted her musings. Bill had just started them on ‘Dear Old Pals’, when the major called him to the phone.

  ‘For me?’ Bill stood up, looking worriedly over at May, whose face clouded over.

  Mrs Lloyd quickly carried on a capella. ‘Dear old pals, jolly old pals, always together, whatever the weather…’

  Peggy tried to join in, but she could only imagine that this was bad news for Bill and the words of the song froze on her lips. Ambushed by fear, Peggy’s throat constricted, for though the bombing had eased up, there were still plenty of tip-and-run raids and it only took one bomb to destroy a family. She felt herself clenching her fists, so that her nails cut into her palms. What if the Gilbies’ house had been hit? The idea of little Jack under another ruin made her nauseous and, in that moment, she determined to leave Pearl here with her mother when she went home.

  Bill came back after a few minutes and he went straight to May, whispering in her ear. Her sister’s face went white and she looked at Peggy. ‘Always together, whatever the weather…’ The singers grew gradually silent and Peggy’s hope faded away as she saw her sister and Bill coming towards her. But it felt an agonizingly long time before they were at her side. Peggy got up.

  ‘Is it your mum’s house?’ Peggy’s voice rasped from her dry throat. She knew it, without being told.

  ‘Peg, come outside a minute.’

  Her sister’s hand was on her elbow and the silence hung heavy in the room now. She let herself be led into the next room, her legs turning suddenly weak, so that she stumbled and Bill had to catch her other elbow. They sat her down in the major’s chair near the fireplace and May got on her knees in front of Peggy. Her cheeks were wet.

  ‘Has your mum’s place been hit, Bill?’ Peggy asked him again.

  His face was grey and she saw the muscle on the side of his jaw clenching.

  ‘It’s little Jack, isn’t it?’

  May took hold of her hand as Bill drew a hand down his face.

  ‘No, Peg, it’s not Jack – it’s Harry.’

  ‘Harry? Did he come home on leave?’ Peggy couldn’t understand why he hadn’t told her. ‘What was he doing at Bill’s mum’s house?’

  She felt May’s hand grip hers more tightly. Her sister was crying and now the blood began to pound at her temples, till she thought her skull might split. ‘Is it bad? Tell me!’ She looked in terror, from May to Bill, who had turned away towards the fire.

  ‘He’s not come home, love. Bill’s mum got a telegram today… Harry’s been killed in action.’

  Peggy heard her own scream, and then nothing. She felt herself expanding, leaving her heavy body behind her. As if made of light, she stretched herself halfway across the world, searching like a circling winged creature, looking from high up down on to the small figures far below, tanks and jeeps and streams of soldiers, but he wasn’t there. Then with a jolt like an electric current she was back in her body, the pain slicing her like a knife, and the scream ripping through her brought her mother rushing to her side.

  ‘I’m here, my darling, I’m here.’ And her mother held her as tightly as she could bear, and still she wanted it to be tighter, to squeeze out the knowledge of her loss.

  ‘Oh, Mum, oh, I can’t bear it, I can’t…’

  ‘I know, love, I know how it hurts.’ Her mother held Peggy against her breast, until she was stiff with holding herself rigid and every limb ached with grief. At one point May came in with a cup of tea and some tablets, which Peggy refused.

  ‘They’ll help you sleep, take them,’ May had insisted, waiting till she swallowed the tablets.

  Soon Peggy’s eyelids began to close, though she fought to keep them open. She didn’t want to go into the dark. But as her mother stroked her hair, she eventually gave in to the merciful blackness, where pain could no longer find her.

  26

  ‘Tomorrow is a Lovely Day’

  Summer–Autumn 1942

  The wedding party had broken up in sombre mood. May was grateful that Pat had left early enough to be spared the sad end of their day. The following morning they moved about the cottage softly, careful not to rob Peggy of any balm she might still find in sleep. Mrs Lloyd had insisted on sleeping with Peggy last night and May had helped almost carry her sister into the bedroom, where she’d allowed her mother to tuck her up like a small child.

  In the early morning, as May was making breakf
ast for herself and Bill, her mother crept downstairs to see them off.

  ‘How is she?’ May whispered, handing her mother the cup of tea she’d just poured for Bill.

  Mrs Lloyd looked hollow-eyed, all her newfound country lustre tarnished by her daughter’s pain. ‘Not good, love. She’s broke her heart crying most of the night. It was getting light before she went back to sleep.’

  ‘I feel so bad for her, Mum. She was so happy. She told me she was having the baby’s photo taken for Harry next week.’

  Mrs Lloyd shook her head, rubbing at her face. ‘I know I was against it, but she did love him, May, and now I wish I hadn’t been so hard on her.’

  Her mother tried to sip the tea, but instead her face creased into tears. She put the cup down and lowered her head. May, frightened that this new tragedy might send Mrs Lloyd back to her own dark place, hugged her and put her cheek against her mother’s, saying firmly, ‘Don’t start blaming yourself, Mum. You’ve had your own battles, haven’t you? Who better to help our Peggy get through this? Now’s the time for you to be strong, for her sake. Blame’s got nothing to do with it, hear me?’

  Her mother patted May’s cheek. ‘When did you get to be the wise one? You sound like your Granny Byron. But you’re right, love. I’ve shed my tears over Jack; now she’s got to shed hers for Harry. And she won’t be on her own, not if I can help it. But where’s Bill? You two’d better be making a move.’

  ‘I suppose so; don’t know what the trains will be like. I’ll go and make sure he’s awake.’

  May poured another cup of tea and sliced the bacon sandwich she’d been making for Bill. In the parlour, where he’d spent the night, he was packing his kitbag and stopped to take the tea.

  ‘Thanks, May, I’m gasping.’

  She smiled. ‘You’re a right old teapot, aren’t you? I didn’t realize it till this weekend. Well, you learn a lot about someone living in the same house, don’t you?’

  He leaned over the cup and kissed her. Then he went to sit on the edge of the sofa, which last night had been his bed. Finishing the sandwich, he asked softly, ‘Have you seen her this morning?’

  ‘Still asleep. I won’t wake her to say goodbye.’

  ‘Perhaps not.’

  May noticed that they were both whispering, as though the tragedy of days like this could be alleviated by hushed tones and cups of tea.

  ‘Poor Peggy. She seemed so happy yesterday, joining in with the sing-song. None of us know what tomorrow’ll bring, do we?’

  ‘No, love, nothing’s certain.’ She squeezed his shoulder. ‘Least of all the bloody trains,’ she said, trying to lighten his mood. ‘Last time I was late back they put me on a charge.’

  But Bill caught at her wrist and pulled her on to his lap. He kissed her, till she was gasping for breath. And when he gave into her half-hearted pleading to be let go, he said, ‘I resent every minute that the army has you and I don’t, do you know that? This war’s stealing all our precious time together.’

  ‘Well, darling, we’ll just have to make every minute count for an hour. My sarge says I’m efficient like that.’

  Normally her teasing could ease him out of any dark mood, but today he seemed immune and she had little energy for optimism herself. He tipped her off his lap and stood her on her feet. ‘I love you,’ he said, and shouldered his kitbag. ‘Let’s go then.’

  *

  Back at the base, May allowed the well-oiled machine that was her gun team to distract her. If her mind wandered to Peggy, a dark wave of sadness would engulf her and so she kept herself too busy to think. But she knew that half of her heart was still back at Moreton-in-Marsh with her sister, where Mrs Lloyd had insisted that Peggy stay, at least until she was stronger.

  Not long after their subdued journey back to Essex, Bill cycled over from Chigwell to spend their half-day leave together. After a tea dance in Gant’s Hill, they walked to a pub.

  ‘They’ve got gin, so my mate tells me,’ Bill said, knowing her weakness. ‘Come on, let’s go mad, all the pubs could go dry tomorrow!’ They hurried along, through the damp late summer evening, splashing in puddles like schoolchildren. They hadn’t had a chance to speak about Peggy so now, as May drank her gin and bitter lemon, she told him what little news she had.

  ‘The major let Mum use his phone. She says Peggy wants to go home and take Pearl with her.’

  ‘You don’t sound sure about it.’

  ‘Only she knows where she’ll feel better, but Mum says she seems almost a bit too bright, you know what I mean?’

  Bill nodded and May studied him. ‘It’s upset you too, hasn’t it, Harry dying?’

  ‘Yes, he was a nice bloke,’ Bill said. ‘It doesn’t seem fair, poor sod, blown up in some godforsaken Libyan desert, before he can even see his daughter.’

  ‘It seems so strange, we saved his child and now he’s gone and little Jack’s an orphan; Pearl without a dad. It’s almost like he was never here…’

  ‘Except he left the children.’

  ‘Yes, there’s the children.’

  Bill pulled aside the pub’s blackout curtain.

  ‘You’ll get in trouble!’ May warned, but he ignored her.

  ‘I’m in the mood for breaking a few rules. Let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice night now – look at the moon through the clouds, there’s a rainbow round it.’

  May didn’t believe him. But once outside, she saw he was right. Tilting her head back, she stared at a radiant moon, on a black disk of sky, fringed by gilt-edged turquoise and purple clouds.

  ‘It’s so beautiful,’ she said. ‘We’d have no trouble spotting a Heinkel tonight, would we?’

  ‘Oh, May, it’s all about the war, even the bloody moon,’ Bill said morosely. He put his arm round her and kissed her head. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It’s getting us all down, Bill.’

  Normally he was so accepting of the way things were, the orders, the drills, the need to be far from home… He lumped them all under ‘duty’, so it was a shock to see this small vein of bitterness creeping in. They walked to a nearby park, where the railings had all been removed for salvage, and ignoring a notice which asked the public to respect opening times in spite of there being no gate in evidence, May followed Bill down to a small seat by the lake. The reflected moon, twice as bright as the real one, shone back up at them from the inky water, and May leaned against Bill as she compared the moon above to the moon below. The night smelled of damp leaves and wet grass, and it felt to May as though she couldn’t take deep enough breaths to fill her lungs.

  ‘Oh, Bill, my poor sister. I can’t stop thinking about her. He was everything to her. If you’d only seen the way her face lit up when she talked about him. She risked everything for him, Bill, and now she’s lost him. It’s not fair.’

  His arm was strong about her and he pulled her coat tight across her shoulders.

  ‘You’re getting cold, come here.’ The warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, all felt like an accusation – this was everything her sister no longer had.

  ‘I don’t know how she’ll get through this, and she’s got the baby to look after…’

  ‘She’ll get through it because she’s got the baby,’ Bill said.

  May nodded. ‘You’re right, as usual.’

  Bill smiled down at her. ‘I’ll remember that. But, May, listen, it’s made me think about us, and I know it’s not the best time in the world, but you said I needed to ask you first. Well, I’m asking you now – May, will you marry me?’

  She took in a deep breath. ‘I want to keep you,’ she whispered.

  ‘So, is that your answer? Is it yes?’

  ‘It’s my answer.’ Her voice trembled and she hugged herself against the chill and the shaking of her body. ‘But it’s not yes.’

  ‘What? But why not?’ He sprang away from her. ‘I know you love me, May.’

  His face was in shadow but his voice, trembling as much as her own, revealed his shock.

  ‘
Yes, I do love you, Bill, and that’s why I won’t marry you. You told me yourself that as soon as you apply to get married, you’ll be flagged up on some list and get sent overseas!’

  Bill had mentioned several pals landing overseas postings directly after marrying – it was like sticking your head above the parapet it seemed. This had been the root of her nagging unease about marrying Bill.

  ‘But that could happen anyway, May – nothing’s guaranteed!’

  ‘Well, I think we should wait – till the war’s over. I’d rather have a fiancé here, safe and sound, than a husband dead a thousand miles away! I don’t want to end up with nothing but a telegram, like our Peggy. Can’t you understand that, Bill?’

  He stood up now and began pacing up and down in front of her.

  ‘I understand, but it’s precisely because of Harry that it’s made me want to do this now. We’re always talking about tomorrow, May. What were we singing the night Peggy found out? It’s a lovely day tomorrow? Well, it’s not. We’re always singing about it, dreaming about it, making up stories about it. When the war is over, we say, we’ll do this or that. But in this war, there are no tomorrows, don’t you see, there’s only today. Today!’ His voice rose and suddenly he was on his knees in front of her. ‘How many times have you said, you’re so glad we found each other again? Well, how can you be sure today won’t be the last time you see me? You say you don’t want to lose me, but every day we’re not together you’re losing me, and I’m losing you. It’s got to be now or never, May – it’s the only way I can get through this bloody war.’

  He took her hand in his and she could feel tremors of emotion passing through him to her. His expressions of love had always been so restrained, always as if he were half surprised at his own captivation, a willing but puzzled slave to his love for her. But now his passion was almost fierce and, taking her in his arms, his kisses were insistent, as if he wanted to distil all the essence of his love through normally gentle lips.

  When he drew back, she saw tears shining in his eyes.

  ‘Believe me, May, there is no tomorrow. Marry me now.’