by Annie Groves
The Italian seaside in winter was not attractive: it was grey, rain-whipped, mosquito-infested and muddy. The girls’ accommodation, in the form of Nissan huts, had yet to be built, so they were lodged in an unheated museum, provided with only two primitive toilets for all of them. ‘A nightmare,’ they had called it, and even more so when the toilets had become totally blocked and overflowed.
‘I bloody hope the next place is better,’ grumbled Janet, as they prepared to leave Naples to make their way to another part of bomb-scarred Italy.
‘Hopefully,’ Tilly said, ‘all the devastation will be behind us.’ As they piled into an army truck, in which their heavy typewriters had been stowed, Janet was already making plans for what she was going to do when the hot weather arrived. Tilly laughed; she had never seen anybody so eager to change colour before.
‘Let’s hope we’re on our way to somewhere picturesque and wonderful,’ Janet said, closing her eyes to the pale, cold, rain-soaked sky.
‘Would you cop an eyeful of that!’ Janet exclaimed as, hours later, the truck headed up a wide avenue of tree-lined lawns after a bumpy and painful ride. As Tilly popped her head out of the side of the truck, she was amazed to see the sun’s rays bouncing off a golden palace.
‘Those gardens will look absolutely gorgeous in summer,’ Tilly breathed, taking in the scent of the coming spring after the muddy filth of winter. ‘This is the opulence you’d expect from a royal residence.’
A young soldier began to give them details of their surroundings, reading from notes. ‘The Palace was built by King Charles, when he took the throne of the Kingdom of Naples. He wanted to establish a prestigious palace that would be fit for a Bourbon king.’
‘It’s not too bad for the British ATS either,’ Janet piped up, much to the amusement of her companions. ‘Oh, I’ll have to get a picture of this to send to my ma; she’ll be made up!’
‘The magnificent mansion is surrounded by stunning gardens, meant to rival the magnificence and the majesty of Versailles,’ continued the soldier.
‘Are you after a job as a tour guide when the war’s over, then?’ Janet laughed. ‘You won’t see anything like this around Seaforth, that’s for sure. We’ve got some fabulous buildings in the centre of Liverpool – or we did have the last time I was home – but I’ve got to give it to the Eyeties, I’ve never seen anything like this.’
‘Oh, it takes your breath away just looking at it,’ Tilly offered, as they jumped down from the back of the truck with the others, and gazed at the eighteenth-century palazzo.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so big,’ said Janet, gazing towards the sun-drenched walls of the palace.
‘It has 1200 rooms, with four interior courtyards,’ the soldier said from behind them, obviously in love with the place. ‘It also has its own chapel, a hunting lodge, a silk factory and a small theatre built to mimic the Teatro di San Carlo in Naples.’
‘Well, I’ll go to the foot of our stairs!’ Janet said in awe of the place, making Tilly laugh. ‘Your mum would have no shortage of space for her lodgers here, Till,’ she added, and received a sarcastic smile from Tilly in return. But her exclamation of surprise was nothing to the gasp she gave when they were escorted inside the palace and shown the grand, ramped staircase.
The soldier’s itinerary fluttered to the marbled floor. Janet, standing behind Tilly, bent and picked it up, then read in her best guide’s voice: ‘Its beauty boasts Renaissance-style symmetry on the façade, but with Baroque décor inside,’ and stunned Tilly into a momentary, surprised silence.
‘You read that, didn’t you?’ She smiled. Janet nodded, as a shiver ran down Tilly’s spine at the sight of such opulence. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.’
‘You want to come around to our house,’ Janet said, laughing, before they were silenced by the arrival of a busy subaltern, carrying an armful of files towards a huge golden door.
‘You two follow me,’ she ordered, showing them into a high-ceilinged, gold-embellished room beyond the marbled hallway.
‘This was the throne room but for now it is your office.’ Tilly and Janet watched the commissioned officer heading for the huge, wide, gold-panelled doors. ‘You’ll soon get used to the view. You might even tire of it one day.’
‘I doubt it!’ Tilly exclaimed. ‘Wait till I tell my mum about this …’ That was the first time she had missed her mother so much that she’d automatically thought of her without all of the negative associations that been a constant companion of late. ‘I’m sure I’ve died and gone to heaven. I can’t see me getting bored around here.’
The subaltern laughed. ‘You can always visit the library if you’re short of something to do. It’s got about 10,000 volumes; the war might even be over by the time you get through that lot. Oh, and there’s always the Spring Ball to look forward to, the highlight of the year in some girls’ eyes.’
‘The Spring Ball,’ said Janet. ‘That sounds a bit more like it. When is it?’
‘The end of May, before the really hot weather gets underway.’
‘Oh, put my name down for some of that,’ said Janet. ‘I should be nicely golden by then.’
‘In the meantime, enjoy the library, girls.’
The two girls nodded and smiled and exchanged looks of disbelief when the subaltern left the room.
‘Not likely.’ Janet laughed. ‘I’m going to find myself a nice little dance hall and shake off some of this dust.’
Janet and Tilly enjoyed their time with the Allied Forces at the palace headquarters, and soon got used to the mixed nationalities and different uniforms.
‘Some of these women look so glamorous,’ said Janet as she watched the Americans in their sharp jackets and pristine shirts that topped off their slim skirts. ‘Compared with the khaki material that ours are made of they look like clothes for film stars.’
Tilly smiled – even after a couple of days, her friend was growing used to her luxurious surroundings – and, sure enough, was finding something to carp about as they sat at their desks. It used to be the sleeping arrangements in the Nissan huts, or the lack of privacy, but they had plenty of privacy now, with their own lavish rooms to sleep in – they could not wish for better – so it stood to reason that Janet had to find something else to complain about.
Tilly let Janet waffle on until the door to the throne room opened and she was summoned to see the major, the commanding officer. Tilly could feel all eyes upon her but nobody spoke as she followed the captain out of the room. About half an hour later she returned looking more than happy.
‘I’m moving office,’ she said brightly to Janet, ‘to work with the Americans as a clerk for Allied Intelligence Censorship, this afternoon. I have to take an oath of secrecy and everything.’ Her eyes were wide but not as wide as Janet’s.
‘Blimey, you’ve fallen on your feet, haven’t you? That’s great, Tilly.’ There was a tinge of disappointment in Janet’s sigh, and Tilly, although she was excited at her new role, felt sorry that she and her friend would not be working together any more. Also she felt more than a bit nervous at being on her own; usually she and Janet did everything together.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Janet assured her a little while later, when she had let the news sink in. ‘You always could look after yourself and you surely don’t need my hand to hold.’ They both laughed, although Tilly knew that her friend would have bitten the major’s hand off for such a position, too.
‘We’ve got the May Ball to look forward to at least,’ Tilly said, gathering her papers and her files. ‘You will be staying here at the palace, won’t you?’
‘I’d better be,’ Janet said, with an emphatic nod of her dark curls. ‘I’ll have a separate office. I’ll be sharing it with an ATS officer – a linguist.’
‘Aren’t they the ones who used to bring in the captured German mail by the sackload and just tip it out on the floor of the office?’
‘That’s right,’ said Tilly, ‘but
now things are hotting up, so to speak, that kind of thing is frowned upon …’ Tilly suddenly stopped. ‘Anyway, I’ve already said more than I should have done.’
‘I know, Tilly,’ Janet joked. ‘If the Germans got hold of me, I’d blab before they asked my name if I thought I was in danger – it was survival of the fittest where I came from.’
Tilly kept the news to herself that she had to pick out all the useful bits of information and type it out, and make lots of copies. She knew Janet was a trustworthy person but, even so, she wasn’t going to put her in a position of jeopardy.
‘Do you mind if I close that window?’ Janet asked, giving an involuntary shiver. ‘Someone’s just walked over my grave.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Tilly said, giving her friend a puzzled frown.
‘Oh, it’s something me ma always says when she gets a shiver.’
‘Here, take my cardi,’ Tilly said, wondering what her mum would have said about all this.
Olive woke with mixed feelings on the morning of her wedding to Archie. She would have loved to have Tilly here but time was of the utmost importance now. Turning onto her side, she wallowed in a few more minutes of slumber before she got up to start the day.
She was excited about becoming Mrs Archie Dawson and looking forward to their spending the rest of their lives together, but the day was tinged with sadness that her daughter could not be here.
Olive had written to Tilly, but as yet she had received no reply. She knew that the British Forces were busy with something Top Secret; Archie told her that was why she hadn’t heard and he was sure that Tilly would be in touch very soon. She hoped so. It had been nearly two months since they had the upset over those letters.
Knowing she had done the most foolish thing of her life for what she had thought of as very good reasons, Olive realised that there was no use crying over it now. It was done. But that didn’t stop it hurting – especially today.
‘So, the big day then,’ Nancy said, when she came into Olive’s kitchen later that morning as Olive was looking in the drawer for her prayer book; she didn’t have flowers as there were none to be found at this time of year, and what flowers there were available were far too expensive.
‘It’s not a flashy do,’ Olive explained, lifting her prayer book out of the drawer. ‘Archie is wearing his best uniform, the dress one he wears on parade for special occasions, and I’ve got a nice pale blue hat with a veil attached.’
‘Is Agnes bringing the children?’ Nancy asked, and Olive nodded.
‘Alice and Barney will be here later this morning and then they will travel back after we have a little tea in the front room, and Dulcie is bringing Hope and Anthony.’
‘It’s really not going to be a large flashy do then, is it?’ Nancy said. ‘Mind you, given that you’re still grieving the loss of your friend Audrey …’
Olive sighed. Under normal circumstances Audrey would have rejoiced in this wedding.
‘We prefer to save the celebrations until Tilly gets home,’ Olive said, pinning the hat to her neatly rolled hair, not telling Nancy that they had parted on less than happy terms over Christmas.
‘Well, if there is anything you need you know where I am,’ Nancy said as she put her hand on the kitchen door. ‘If there had been any spare eggs I could have made you a few sandwiches for after …’
‘That’s very kind of you Nancy, but we don’t want a fuss.’ Egg sandwiches? Olive thought. For her wedding breakfast? She knew she and Archie were keeping things low key, but it really would be a poor do if she could only give the guests, travelling all the way from Surrey, egg sandwiches.
‘You look beautiful,’ Archie whispered when Olive joined him at the altar in the little church next to the vicarage. She looked up at her husband-to-be, knowing today was one of the happiest days of her life.
‘Thank you, you don’t look so bad yourself.’ Olive smiled, as the vicar, her best friend, Audrey’s, husband, joined them in Holy Matrimony. It was a short, simple service, which found favour with the bride and groom who felt their marriage didn’t have to be a huge frothy affair to be special. Afterwards, David brought out his Brownie box camera and took a few pictures of the small group, which included his wife, blooming now and looking fabulous in a red hat and matching three-quarter-length duster coat over a slim dark skirt, their two children carried by Agnes, while Sally gently contained an excitable Alice, who had grown so used to the freedom of the countryside, she was having trouble settling back into the refined restrictions of the churchyard. Barney was looking taller and sturdier now he was having plenty of fresh air and invigorating toil on the farm.
‘If it is all the same to you, Archie,’ ventured David. ‘I have organised a little surprise for you and Olive, if I may?’
‘Surprise?’ Archie said as he put his arm around his wife’s waist and pulled her close, much to the amusement of the younger children who had never seen such an intimate display before.
‘I’ve booked a table at Claridge’s for lunch, if that is OK with you?’
‘Claridge’s!’ Olive whispered. Even in the new hat she had bought especially for her wedding, as it didn’t need coupons, she knew her finery still didn’t match the clothing of the clientele of Claridge’s.
‘But, David …?’
‘Not another word, Archie, old boy,’ said David. ‘My treat. Call it a wedding present.’
‘Thank you very much, David,’ Olive said. ‘That is very kind of you.’
‘Think nothing of it,’ David replied, as Dulcie linked her hands through her husband’s arm and he smiled at her, glad to have his wife home again, even if it was only for a few hours.
‘It’s what you deserve,’ said Dulcie, thrilled to see Olive’s surprise and glad they were able to return some of the goodwill she had been shown over the years. ‘And David’s booked the honeymoon suite for later, but don’t let on I’ve told you.’
‘But … but …’
‘No buts, Olive. You would have done it for me if you could.’
So the party of ten sat down to celebrate, the overwhelmed bride and groom seated centrally amongst their friends. Over lunch, Sally swapped farm stories with little Alice, who chatted about country life like she’d been born to it, giving Sally cause to smile. Then there were Barney and Agnes, enjoying a day out of wellington boots and scrubbing up nicely. They enjoyed the whole occasion, catching up with the lives of their loved ones, and the time flew by. Olive looked at Archie and a private communication flowed between them that was almost imperceptible to the untrained eye …
‘Happy, darling?’ David asked Dulcie, enjoying the company of his wife once more.
‘Always with you, my darling,’ Dulcie whispered. ‘Do you remember our wedding day.’
‘How could I forget?’ David smiled as Dulcie recalled the fabulous hotel, the champagne and the gown her husband had sent over from Harrods, while David recalled the bad news of Wilder’s death brought by Dulcie’s irate sister, and the air raid that set their union back a good while. But everything was perfect now, they were together again, even if only for a short while, and all was right with the world.
After their meal, a cake was brought to their table, much to Archie and Olive’s surprise, especially when they discovered that it wasn’t a cardboard cover over a flat sponge but a beautifully rich, fruity two-tiered cake made in the hotel by one of the finest chefs in England.
‘Anything that isn’t eaten today can be taken home in little boxes,’ Dulcie whispered to Olive, who could only gasp at the wonderful opulence – even in wartime.
‘I would love it if Tilly was home to share our happy day.’ Now they had all this, Olive was so overwhelmed she could hardly speak. This was the most wonderful day she could possibly have imagined. Only the absence of her beloved daughter cast a shadow over the joyful occasion. But Tilly was very far away, Olive mused sadly, in more ways than one …
TWENTY-FOUR
June 1944
Over the next fe
w weeks, Tilly was run ragged, starting work at seven o’clock in the morning, and it was often nine o’clock at night before she could head back to her billet. If she was lucky, she might find a bit of time at midday to get something to eat, but she and Janet, like shadows, passed in the corridors with little time to catch up.
Thank goodness, the weather was warming up nicely now. They were looking forward to the ball, which was actually held in the palace ballroom and would be attended by everyone who was anyone. Tickets were being snapped up fast and Tilly managed to bag one each for herself and Janet, who was coming over later to show Tilly the new dress she had made especially for the evening. The only thing was the ball had been put back until June, which was a huge disappointment to everyone who’d bought a ticket in eager anticipation.
‘I can make lunch at one o’clock,’ Tilly informed Janet on the telephone. ‘Meet me in the gardens at the back – I’ll bring sandwiches.’ She had been busy all morning writing out all the high security travel passes for people who were going overseas on various missions.
‘That will be great,’ said Janet excitedly, ‘and I can tell you all about my new chap. You’ll like him.’
‘Oh, you are a dark horse, Janet. When did you meet him?’
‘In the officers’ mess. Well, there was no sign of you, and I was feeling rather lonely, and he …’ Tilly knew it was far too dangerous for the women to venture from their camp alone and they often spent the evening together in the mess, although not usually in the officers’ mess, she thought with a grin.
‘Who is he?’ Tilly could barely contain her excitement, and even though there was no shortage of would-be suitors, she wasn’t inclined to date. She had still never met anybody to match Drew.
