The Hills and the Valley

by Janet Tanner

  ‘One of ours, I think,’ Harry said. He too sounded shaken. It was the suddenness of the incident which had been so unnerving. One minute a peaceful summer afternoon, the next … ‘It’s all right, they’re beating them back. It’s over now.’

  ‘But where were they going?’ she asked. ‘What were they after?’

  Harry brushed bits of twig from his shirt. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. One of the Wiltshire aerodromes, perhaps. Or the army training camps on Salisbury plain. I don’t know. Whichever it was, they won’t get them – this time.’

  ‘No,’ Margaret agreed. Then the full force of his words hit her. ‘This time’he had said, but there would be other times. The war had taken hold in earnest and this was just the beginning. Before it was over there would be many more dogfights in the sky, many bombers seeking to drop their loads of death, many men dying.

  ‘Let’s pray we can finish it quickly!’ she said.

  Margaret and Harry were not the only members of the family to witness the dogfight. Amy, Barbara and Maureen watched it from a bedroom window at Valley View and their faces, white with tension, reflected their thoughts.

  It could be Huw up there in one of those Spitfires. It could be Huw, blazing fire and receiving it, bobbing, weaving, ducking. When they saw the plane spiralling down Amy stretched out her hands and the girls took them so that they stood close together in a chain, straining their eyes at the distant darting specks.

  Please God, not Huw! Amy prayed silently.

  Oh, those poor men! thought Maureen.

  And Barbara, holding on to the panic inside her with a supreme effort felt as if all her worst nightmares were taking shape in the daylight. She had known what was going on, of course, but until now had only been able to guess at what it was really like. Now there was no more uncertainty. She was seeing it with her own eyes.

  Even when it was over she seemed to see it still and knew it would haunt her dreams throughout the weeks and months to come.

  Elaine and Marie were down by the river when the planes came. It was a pleasant spot. On both sides the meadows sloped bumpily down, scarred only by cow pats left by the herd of heifers that inhabited the valley and the river meandered cool and clear beneath the overhanging trees. At one point it broadened into a natural pool which Sir Richard Spindler, who owned the land, had leased to the council for a swimming bath and the girls had lingered there for a while, dangling their feet in the water before pressing on upstream, picking their way between the bushes and keeping a sharp eye out for the cows who sometimes lumbered down to the river to drink or take advantage of the shade.

  Elaine and Marie did not like cows. Until they had come to Hillsbridge they had never seen one in their lives and although Margaret had told them they were quite harmless they treated the cows with suspicion bordering on terror. They were so big and Elaine and Marie disliked their baleful expressions and the way they had of suddenly charging across a field like a herd of wild buffalo.

  Today there had been no cows to be seen, however, and the girls had been able to wander about in peace. Marie had picked a few celandines and some wild garlic to go into the basket Margaret had given her; she sniffed her fingers and wrinkled her nose at the strong smell of onions which clung to her skin. But Elaine had not bothered to collect any specimens. She had no intention of bothering to write an essay about birds and flowers or anything else – essays or ‘composition’ as she called it were strictly for school, not something with which to pass the holidays.

  At first, when the planes came the two girls could not understand what was going on. They grabbed hold of one another, dropped their specimen baskets in the thick marshy undergrowth and turned frightened eyes to the sky. They could see nothing; the heavy trees in full leaf hid all but the smallest trace of blue. But when they inched nervously out into the field they were able to see at least some of what was going on and they watched round-eyed with terror.

  When it was over Marie began to cry very softly, little mewing sobs.

  ‘I don’t like it, Lainey! I want to go home!’

  ‘Don’t be soft,’ Elaine admonished.

  ‘I do. I want to go home. I want our Mam!’ She rubbed at her cheeks with her onion-smelling hands.

  ‘You’d get worse than that in London,’ Elaine said. ‘Every day, I’spect. That’s why they sent us here.’ Her eyes were shining with a peculiar light. She had been a little frightened by the dogfight, though she would never admit it, but now she was excited. The adrenalin, pumping through her veins, was a new experience. ‘I’d like it,’ she said boldly. ‘I’d like to be back in London. But you wouldn’t. You’re just a baby.’

  ‘I’m not!’ Marie protested, wriggling uncomfortably. When the gunfire had started she had wet her knickers; now they felt cold and clammy.

  Elaine noticed her gyrations. ‘What’s the matter wiv you?’

  Marie told her, still sniffling.

  ‘There you are! You are a baby! Take them off. We’ll hang them out to dry.’

  Marie did as she was told and Elaine hung the offending knickers over a branch.

  ‘Yer,’ she said, suddenly making up her mind. ‘I’m going back to London. I’ve had enough of this place.’

  ‘You can’t. They won’t let you,’ Marie gulped.

  ‘Just let them try to stop me! I’ll find a way!’ The adrenalin was making Elaine believe anything was possible.

  Suddenly Marie’s expression became one of horror. She stood transfixed, her eyes huge, her mouth fallen open.

  ‘Lainey – look!’

  ‘What now?’ Elaine began, then as she turned her own voice became a scream.

  Just a few inches from her a cow’s head was poking through the branches. All bravado forgotten she turned and ran, Marie following her, out into the alien green field where monsters lurked, leaving their specimen baskets and Marie’s knickers still dangling from the branch. They went on running and they did not stop until they reached the road.

  ‘I want to go home!’ Marie wailed again and this time she did not mean London, but the safety of the house in Tower View.

  For once Elaine did not argue with her.

  ‘Do you want to go and see the German plane?’ Ralph asked.

  He had come home late in the afternoon and brought with him the news that one of the planes that had been hit in the skirmish had come down in a field just over the hill.

  ‘A bit ghoulish, isn’t it? Amy said.

  ‘I thought the girls might be interested. It’s probably the best chance they’ll get of seeing a Jerry aircraft at close quarters.’

  ‘Oh yes, please! Please take us Ralph!’ Maureen begged eagerly.

  ‘Barbara?’

  Barbara nodded. She was still a little shaken by the afternoon’s events but there was a creeping fascination all the same about the German plane.

  ‘Are you coming, Mum?’ she asked.

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Amy.

  They all piled into the family car and Ralph drove up the hill and along the lanes. It was a perfect August evening. In the hedgerows the cow parsley grew taller than a man; out across the fields, thick and green, a hawk hovered in the still blue air. Once again it was hard to realise that this was a world at war and the glimpse of harsh reality which had been revealed to them that afternoon now seemed more like a dream.

  Until they saw the plane.

  Ralph parked at the field gate and they climbed over and walked along beneath the hedge until it came into view, lying there in the open like a great wounded bird. Surprisingly, it was still almost intact, the black cross on the fuselage clearly visible though a piece of the tail, marked with its swastika, lay some distance away at the edge of the field. Nearby the aircraft lay the unexploded bombs, guarded, as was the wreckage, by stern-faced uniformed men.

  ‘There it is,’ Ralph said. ‘An ME110.’

  They all stared in awe.

  ‘What happened to the men?’ Maureen asked.

  ‘One bailed out. The rea
r gunner we think – they haven’t found him yet. They took the others away.’

  ‘Dead?’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  A Home Guard man recognised Ralph and strolled over.

  ‘One less for the Luftwaffe,’ he said cheerfully.

  ‘Yes. Any news about the one who bailed out?’

  ‘Not yet. He’s hiding out somewhere. We’ll find him, don’t you worry.’

  Amy shivered. ‘I don’t much care for the idea of a Gerry roaming around, especially after dark.’

  ‘I expect he’s far more scared of you than you are of him,’ Ralph told her. ‘He’s probably been told he’ll be shot, or worse, if he’s caught.’

  ‘So he will be if he comes anywhere near me. Not shot – but I’d certainly take my umbrella to him!’

  Ralph laughed. ‘See what I mean? Come on then. Let’s go home.’

  They turned back towards the lane, but Barbara was still standing looking at the plane as if mesmerised.

  ‘Come on, Babs!’ Amy called.

  Barbara turned and there was a strange light in her eyes.

  ‘Mum – I’ve made up my mind,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to go to college. I want to join the WAAF.’

  Over the next few days the arguments raged.

  ‘You can’t join the WAAF, Barbara. You’re not old enough,’ Amy said.

  ‘I shall be next year.’

  ‘So why not go to college until then.’

  ‘Because I want to join up as soon as I’m eighteen. That would mean leaving college in the middle of term. It would be just silly.’

  ‘The silly thing is to waste a whole year for no good reason. You were very keen to get your qualifications and take a position with one of the companies until just recently. I don’t know what’s got into you.’

  ‘I want to join the WAAF.’

  ‘Well, I don’t want you to. I might as well tell you that straight.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why not?’ Amy raised her eyes heavenward. ‘Hundreds of reasons.’

  ‘Give me one.’

  ‘It could be dangerous. Most of the airfields are in the south-east and that’s where the Germans are bombing.’

  ‘Huw’s in the south-east. I’d be in no danger at all compared to Huw.’

  ‘That’s different. Huw is a young man.’

  ‘Why should it be different?’ Barbara argued. ‘The only difference I can see is that I am your daughter, and Huw is not your son.’

  ‘I’ve always treated him as my own!’ Amy flared. ‘I brought you up as brother and sister and it wouldn’t do you any harm to remember that.’

  Barbara opened her mouth as if to say something, then thought better of it.

  ‘Anyway, I’m not prepared to argue with you about this,’ Amy went on. ‘If you’re still set on the idea this time next year then I suppose we shall have to think again. For the moment, my lady, you are going to college whether you like it or not. And that is my final word on the subject.’

  Barbara hesitated outside the door of the Recruiting Office swallowing at the sudden lump of nervousness which seemed to be constricting her throat. Then she lifted her chin, pushed open the door and went inside.

  A stern-faced woman in uniform was sitting at a bare table. Barbara looked at the iron grey hair, mannishly cut, and the tight uncompromising line of the lips and once again her courage almost failed her. Had there been a queue she did not think she could have stood the suspense. As it was there was no time for second thoughts for the woman glanced up at her, grey eyes snapping coldly, and indicated the chair opposite her with a quick jab of her pencil.

  ‘Morning.’

  ‘Good morning,’ Barbara said, surprised.

  The woman sat back in her upright chair. Behind her recruitment posters pinned to a screen made a colourful backdrop.

  ‘So you want to join the WAAF.’

  ‘Yes,’ Barbara said.

  ‘Good. That’s the spirit. The more young people who are prepared to volunteer the sooner this war will be over.’

  Barbara nodded vigorously. Her sentiments exactly. What a pity her mother could not see it like that.

  At the thought of Amy Barbara felt another qualm of nervousness. What on earth was Amy going to say when she found out what she had done? Barbara pushed the thought to the back of her mind. By the time Amy knew anything about it it would be too late. She would be signed on as a WAAF.

  ‘Name?’ The woman was uncapping a pen, all brisk efficiency. Barbara supplied the details.

  ‘Age?’ This was the one that had been worrying her. Barbara crossed her fingers tightly in the pocket of her jacket.

  ‘Eighteen.’

  ‘Birth certificate?’

  ‘Oh – yes …’ Barbara opened her bag and fumbled inside. She had rather hoped they might not ask for her birth certificate. She was not certain it would stand up to inspection, though she had worked on it for half an hour last night with lemon juice and some of Ralph’s thick black ink. She handed it over nervously and watched the woman straighten it out on the desk. Not a flicker passed across the woman’s face and Barbara breathed a little more easily.

  A few more questions then the woman nodded briskly.

  ‘Right. In a moment I’ll ask you to sign this. Before you do so I should point out to you that it is a very serious offence to give false information – the penalty for doing so could very well be a jail sentence.’

  Her eyes, hard as flint, met Barbara’s then glanced obliquely for a moment at the birth certificate lying on the table; Barbara felt her stomach turn to water. She knew. Oh Lord, what had she done? A jail sentence! Oh jeepers!

  The woman pushed back her chair and stood up.

  ‘Excuse me. I have something to attend to in the back office. I’ll be back in just a moment.’

  She disappeared around the screen without a backward glance. For a second Barbara sat as if rooted to the chair then realised – this was her chance. She leaped up, almost knocking over the chair in her haste, grabbed her birth certificate and the completed forms and ran to the door. As she opened it she was terrified she would hear the woman’s voice ordering her to stop but she did not and she ran out into the street, not daring to look over her shoulder or stop until she reached the corner and lost herself in the scurry of shoppers.

  What a narrow escape! If they’d checked her birth certificate and found it falsified, if they had realised she had lied about her age … But they hadn’t. Luck had been on her side. The woman had had to leave the room and she’d been able to get away …

  Her step slowed as a thought struck her. Had it been luck – or something else? Had the woman known all the time that she was lying and made the chance for her to escape rather than having her arrested, or whatever it was she would have done? Barbara couldn’t be sure. She simply thanked her lucky stars that she was not at this moment being whisked off by a military policeman to answer charges. Next spring she would try again. For the moment she had had quite enough excitement.

  Oh Lord, I’ve got to alter my birth certificate back to the correct date before I can go and see them again, Barbara thought. Why do things never happen this way in romantic novels? Then, girls could even dress as boys to follow their loves to war and get away with it. Whilst she had done something as uninteresting as adding a few months to her age and risked a jail sentence. Life simply wasn’t fair.

  Feeling very much a failed adventuress Barbara walked to the bus station to catch her bus back to Hillsbridge.

  Chapter Ten

  Throughout the month of August the Battle of Britain raged on, squadrons of the Auxiliary Air Force and fighter pilots of the Fleet Air Arm now fighting alongside the RAF.

  Losses were heavy, though not so heavy as the toll they inflicted on the marauding Germans, and Barbara lived in a constant state of anxiety. There was little evidence in the western corner of England of the battle that was raging over the south-east, but they knew about it all the same and Barbara’s
supreme moment of pride came when she heard what Mr Churchill had said in the House of Commons: ‘Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few.’

  Huw was one of ‘the few’. But for how much longer could he fly day after day without getting caught? The bombers came now in smaller formations with much heavier fighter escort – the Germans had learned that their famed Luftwaffe were not going to wipe out the aerodromes of Kent and Essex as easily as they had first thought, but they were as determined as ever, sending in wave after wave of planes to try to achieve by sheer weight of numbers what they had earlier been unable to succeed in doing.

  Barbara no longer thought about it every moment of every day, for to do so was more than could be humanly endured, but it was there in her heart all the same, a constant weight, an agony of waiting.

  Letters arrived for her and for all the family more frequently now but they were shorter and much less detailed as if Huw, too exhausted by a day’s flying from the first dawn ‘scramble’to the last fading moments of dusk to push his pen across the paper for more than a few lines, yet somehow felt compelled to make contact with those he loved. As if he is afraid in his heart that each day might be his last – though he would never admit it, thought Barbara.

  One such letter arrived during the first week of September – the very day that Barbara was due to begin her course of business studies at a commercial college in Bath. She was in her bedroom making sure her bag contained everything she would need when she saw the postman pushing his bicycle up the slope to the gate and she swiftly thrust the last items inside and ran down the stairs.

  Amy was in the hall picking up the envelopes from the mat.

  ‘Anything from Huw?’ she called eagerly.

  ‘Looks like it.’ Amy began ripping open the envelope. ‘It’s addressed to all of us,’ she added, seeing Barbara’s face.

  ‘What does it say?’

  ‘Give me a chance!’ said Amy. She was as anxious as Barbara though she would never admit it. Then her face whitened. ‘Oh Lord, he got shot down!’