The Fleethaven Trilogy

by Margaret Dickinson

  ‘We’ve invited the two Land Army girls for Christmas dinner,’ Esther told Kate. ‘Poor things! They’re sisters – from Coventry.

  ‘Oh heck!’ Kate said at once, staring at her mother, the unspoken question in her eyes.

  Her mother nodded. ‘Yes, their home was bombed in that awful raid in November. Their parents were safe, thank God, but the lasses have no home to go back to.’

  ‘How awful!’ Kate said. ‘Where are they billeted?’

  ‘At the Grange. The Squire’s turned it over for the duration. He’s taken a small house in the town.’ She shook her head, murmuring. ‘Poor old Squire – he’s not well.’

  ‘Do the girls help here?’

  Her mother’s impish smile was back. ‘Oh, yes. They’re surprisingly good too – for townies.’

  Kate hid her smile at her mother’s innocent tone of condescension.

  ‘But I have to watch ’em with ya dad,’ Esther added and touched her husband’s cheek tenderly.

  Kate exchanged an amused glance with her stepfather. As if the idea would even cross his mind, she thought.

  So Christmas passed pleasantly enough, but it was not the same without Danny.

  Her pen was poised above the white page of the writing pad. Should she tell Danny about Rosie? Kate bit her lip with indecision and then decided to keep her promise to the girl. She sighed. She just hoped young Rosie did know what she was doing else it could all end in tears, as Grannie Harris was fond of saying.

  She was sitting in front of the window in the sitting room, her legs curled up in a chair, the writing pad resting on her knee. From time to time she paused, looking up to stare out of the window across the smooth fields towards the Grange, the straight brown furrows white-tipped with the morning frost. In an hour’s time, her stepfather would take her to Suddaby in the pony and trap.

  ‘Who needs petrol?’ her mother had snorted in contempt, when the rationing had hit so many folks’ mode of transport. Jonathan, whose love for motors and engines seemed never to be catered for, at least on Brumbys’ Farm, had winked at Kate who had smiled back sympathetically.

  A shadow fell across the page of her half-written letter and she looked up to see her grandfather.

  ‘Writing to Danny, lass?’ he asked without preamble, and eased his stiff limbs down to sit in the chair beside her. ‘You leaving this morning?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Ah’ve got you a little something extra to what I gave ya on Christmas Day, lass,’ he said and dropped a package into her lap. ‘I expect ya’ll be making a lot of new friends and maybe seeing new places and I thought this might come in handy.’

  Carefully, Kate unwrapped the square-shaped parcel. It was a Box Brownie camera. ‘Oh, Grandad, that’s a lovely present. And yes, it will be very nice to have. You make friends with people and then get posted to different places and maybe never see them again.’

  Will Benson sniffed. ‘That’s what Ah thought. Ah got ’em at the shop to put a film in it, lass, so if ya wanted to take a few pictures ’afore ya leave . . . And Ah’d like to take one of you in yar smart uniform. Ya’d send it back to me when ya get it developed, would ya?’

  ‘Of course. Thank you, Grandad.’ She leaned forward and planted a kiss on his stubbly face.

  He sniffed and grunted with embarrassment. Changing the subject, he asked again. ‘A’ ya writing to Danny?’

  ‘Yes – just to let him know my new address. I haven’t heard from him in ages. I expect it’s all this moving about. Maybe his letters have got lost. Maybe one day I’ll get a bundle arrive all together.’

  ‘Kate . . .’ the old man began, paused, and then continued haltingly. ‘Katie, it’s time to – to let go, lass.’

  She avoided looking at him. ‘What – what do you mean, Grandad?’ The question was unnecessary. In her heart she knew what he meant only too well.

  ‘Don’t live ya life hankering after summat – or rather someone – ya can never have.’

  ‘I’m not,’ she snapped, and then, feeling guilty for her sharpness, put her hand on his arm. ‘Truly I’m not. We’re – we’re . . .’ She took a deep shuddering breath and said the words she had always found so difficult to voice: ‘Brother and sister. We know we are. It’s just that . . .’

  Now she could not put their feelings into words. How could she explain to her grandfather the love which still lay between her and Danny, a love which she believed would never go away or even be replaced?

  Maybe the old man understood, at least in part, for he covered her hand with his wrinkled one. ‘I know, lass, I know. But mebbe ya’ve the chance now to meet other fellers. It’s time you were married and settled down and having bairns.’

  ‘Yes, Grandad,’ she said dutifully, and forced a smile on to her mouth. She knew her grandfather meant well, but she could not imagine meeting anyone who could take Danny’s place in her heart. Not ever.

  ‘ACW Hilton. Ah yes, you’re the new driver for the CO, aren’t you?’

  Kate gasped in surprise. The officer looked up. ‘Well? Doesn’t that suit?’ There was sarcasm in the woman’s tone that told Kate immediately that whatever she felt, it would have to suit.

  ‘Oh yes, Ma’am. It – it was just a surprise, that’s all. I hadn’t been told. I mean—’ She floundered, feeling herself going red. ‘I mean, I knew I’d be in Motor Transport but I didn’t know exactly what I’d be doing.’

  ‘You’ll still be in the MT Section and will have to carry out other duties when the CO doesn’t need you. The officer in charge of the MT Section is Flying Officer Cooper, but you’ll take your day-to-day orders from Flight Sergeant Martin. It seems, however,’ the officer added drily, ‘that our new Commanding Officer has asked especially for your services.’

  ‘Oh!’ This was an even bigger surprise. She could not imagine why.

  The officer was looking at her keenly. ‘It’s a very good posting, particularly for a new recruit. Just mind you are up to it.’

  Kate saluted smartly, some of her confidence returning. ‘I’ll do my best, Ma’am.’

  She was dismissed.

  As she left the orderly room, Kate stood for a moment to get her bearings. The airfield was in fact divided by the main road; on one side were all the quarters for the officers and airmen – and the WAAFs – and the administration offices were also sited there. On the opposite side, spread out before her, flat and windswept, was the operational site; the runways, the hangars and control tower and all sorts of buildings whose use Kate had yet to learn.

  She drew in a deep breath and held it, revelling in the feel of the wind upon her face and the panorama before her. A small smile curved her mouth as she looked about her. She was so happy to be back in her home county. Before her, beyond the perimeter of the airfield, lay the gently rolling fields of the Wolds. Nearer, she watched a tractor, driven by a WAAF, hauling a bomb-train from the ammunitions dump towards the waiting aircraft. That was a job she might have done. But it seemed as if her new Station Commander had other plans. Now, her main duty would be to familiarize herself with the MT yard and the CO’s staff car in particular. Crossing her fingers that it would be a Humber Super Snipe, the same type on which she had done her training, she went in search of the MT Section office.

  Flight Sergeant Martin was a kindly, fatherly figure, affectionately known by all in the section as ‘Chiefy’. He was bald, apart from tufts of grey, bushy hair which sprouted on either side of his head just above his ears. His eyes twinkled at her from behind round, steel-rimmed spectacles. ‘CO wants to see you the minute you arrive. Leave your gear here . . .’ He took her outside and pointed in the direction of the building which housed the CO’s office. ‘Now, you be careful. He’s a handsome devil, if ever I saw one,’ Chiefy chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound from his round belly.

  Waiting in the outer office for her interview with the CO, Kate’s confidence ebbed away again and her stomach was churning with nervousness. She was uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the Adjutan
t upon her.

  Then for some reason she suddenly thought about her mother. A picture of Esther Godfrey was in her mind’s eye, standing with hands on hips, feet planted firmly a little apart, her strong jawline jutting out resolutely. A small smile twitched at Kate’s mouth. No one, as far as she could remember, had ever intimidated her mother; not the Squire, not a headmistress, not authority of any kind. And were she in Kate’s place at this very moment, the man beyond that door would hold no fears for Esther Godfrey either. Some of the fluttering under Kate’s ribs settled a little.

  Something buzzed on the man’s desk and he lifted a telephone receiver and listened. ‘Sir,’ was all he said into the instrument. Replacing the receiver, he looked up at Kate. ‘You may go in now.’

  Kate stood and marched through the door. As it closed behind her she came to attention in front of the CO’s desk and rattled out her rank, name and number.

  Then her hand fell away from her forehead in an untidy end to her salute and her lips parted in a gasp.

  She was staring straight into the blue eyes of Philip Trent.

  Having returned her salute, he at once seemed to relax and become completely ‘unofficial’. He came round the desk and held out both his hands to her.

  ‘Kate – it’s so good to see you again. You look wonderful.’

  Hesitating only a moment, but then taking the lead from him, she smiled warmly. ‘And you. How are you? How’s your arm?’

  ‘Fine. It wasn’t broken, thank goodness, only dislocated and a small flesh wound just here.’ He indicated a point just below his collarbone. ‘It’s healed well now.’

  They stared at each other, smiling, genuinely pleased to be meeting again.

  ‘Well, this is a coincidence,’ she said.

  Philip’s smile broadened and he shook his head. ‘No coincidence, Kate.’

  A slight frown furrowed her forehead. ‘Why? What do you mean?’

  ‘Do sit down.’ He indicated a wooden chair in front of his desk. ‘I’ll get us some tea.’ He leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘If anyone asks, we’re discussing details of your job as my driver.’

  He went towards the door, opened it, issued orders for two teas, closed the door and returned to his desk. Sitting behind it, he smiled across at her again. ‘I’d better look all official when the corporal comes in with the tea. Actually, joking apart, we will have to discuss your – er – position as my driver. But first, I want to catch up on what’s been happening to you since we last met.’

  They looked at each other, remembering Dunkirk, and their faces sobered. ‘I’m so glad you’re safe,’ he said softly. His gaze held hers and for a long moment they just sat staring at each other. Then Philip Trent cleared his throat and seemed to shake himself. His glance fell away and he shuffled some papers on his desk in front of him. ‘How’s Danny?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Fine. He’s joined the RAF.’

  Philip nodded. ‘I know.’

  ‘You do?’ This was getting more mysterious by the minute.

  ‘I can’t believe this is happening.’ She shook her head in disbelief. ‘What did you mean when you said it wasn’t a coincidence?’

  He was smiling again, though looking a little sheepish.

  ‘When we get to this exalted position,’ he cleared his throat as if poking gentle fun at himself. On looking more carefully, she could see by the four half-inch stripes on his sleeve that he was now a Group Captain. ‘It does have its perks,’ he was saying. ‘We have colleagues in all sorts of posts. And if necessary, we can pull rank to get information.’

  Kate still looked puzzled.

  ‘I was pretty sure you – and Danny – would join up after Dunkirk. Not only did I find out that you had, but also where you went for your training and that you’d ended up as an MT driver and with a special recommendation for promotion from your instructor,’ he added, teasing gently. ‘So – I made the right contacts and got you posted here as my personal driver.’

  Kate gasped aloud. ‘Goodness. Just like that.’

  He pulled a face. ‘Not really. I had to do a lot of string-pulling. But it worked.’ His face clouded momentarily and he leaned towards her. ‘You don’t – mind?’ he asked, suddenly boyish in his anxiety.

  Before she could answer, there was a knock at the door and a corporal entered carrying a tray with two cups of tea on it, a small milk jug and sugar bowl. He set it down on the desk and retreated.

  The very new station commander was still looking anxiously at his even newer driver. ‘Do you mind?’ he repeated the moment the door had closed behind the corporal.

  ‘Of course not,’ Kate reassured him swiftly. ‘I’m really very grateful.’ She smiled mischievously as she added, ‘I’ve already been told by a WAAF officer that it is a very important posting and she hopes I’m up to it!’

  Now he laughed aloud as he handed her a cup of tea. ‘Oh, you’ll be up to it all right, Kate Hilton. There’s no doubt about that, and I’m recommending you be made up to Leading Aircraftswoman with immediate effect.’ His smile broadened. ‘Promotion can come amazingly quickly sometimes!’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, touched by his faith in her.

  Then his face sobered. ‘There is just something we must get straight, though . . .’

  Kate nodded and, trying to lessen any embarrassment he might feel considering the debt of gratitude he owed her, she said, ‘I know – this is the last time we can talk like this. In future we must be – well – official.’

  A look of surprise flitted across his face. ‘Oh, I hope not, Kate. No, what I was going to say was that on duty and in front of others, yes, we must be “official” as you put it.’ The smile lit his face again, ‘But I hope that in private we can still continue to be friends.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure it won’t compromise your position in any way.’

  ‘It won’t trouble me. After all,’ he puffed out his chest with mock pride, ‘I am the new Station Commander. My word is law!’

  Kate laughed, but he said quietly and more seriously now, ‘No, Kate, all joking apart, it’s you who could be compromised, and I wouldn’t want that.’

  He stood up and Kate followed suit, placing her empty cup back on the tray. He was moving towards the door and opening it for her. ‘And this is the last time I’ll be able do this for you. I’m afraid you’ll have to open it for me in future.’

  She smiled and then, deliberately adopting a bland expression before leaving his office, she saluted smartly and said, ‘Sir!’

  Kate threw her kit-bag on to the end bed nearest the big grey stove – Mavis already having laid claim to the bed opposite – and surveyed the rest of the hut. ‘Did you have a good Christmas, Mave? There doesn’t seem to be many here yet.’

  There appeared to be only three other beds occupied besides the one she was now claiming.

  ‘Yes, thanks. There’s more arriving later today.’ Mavis bounced down on the unoccupied bed next to Kate and lay back with her hands behind her head. ‘Two more R/T operators and a meteorologist. You and me are lucky to know each other. I guess for a while we shan’t know anyone else. They’ll be coming from all over.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Kate agreed absently, and sighed. All she hoped was that her recent letter to Danny got delivered to him all right and that he knew where she was. Wouldn’t he be surprised that she’d met up again with Philip Trent and that from now on she’d be seeing him every day? She must write at once and tell him . . .

  Almost as if reading her thoughts, Mavis said, ‘I hear you’re the envy of the camp. Landing a job as driver to the dishy CO. Lucky old you!’

  Kate just smiled.

  ‘Mind you,’ Mavis went on, ‘there’s a rather nice Flight Sergeant in the Ops Room . . .’

  ‘Oh, Mavis, you’re impossible!’

  Kate sat down on her bed and pulled out her writing pad.

  ‘Oh, you’re not writing to him again, are you?’ Mavis cast her eyes to the rafters in mock exasperation. ‘And you try t
o tell me he’s not your boyfriend!’

  Kate said nothing, but bent her head over the page and began to write, ‘Dear Danny . . .’

  The door of the long hut opened and two newcomers entered. Mavis twisted her head to look towards the door but made no effort to move from the bed.

  ‘Hello there,’ she called cheerily. ‘Welcome to your new home.’ Now she levered herself up on her elbow, swung her legs off the bed and sat up. ‘I’m Mavis and this is Kate.’

  The two arrivals walked down the length of the hut, a tall, slender girl with sleek blonde hair leading the way with confidence in every stride, while behind her came a smaller, thin girl.

  Ignoring Mavis’s greeting, the tall girl was complaining loudly in affected tones, ‘If I have to endure another Free From Infection inspection just once more . . . it’s so humiliating!’

  Kate looked up, glancing over the newcomers. Her gaze rested briefly on the thin girl and then was drawn to the other girl. There was something vaguely familiar about her. Kate frowned. The girl nodded stiffly towards Mavis, her only acknowledgement of the friendly greeting.

  There was something about the sulky mouth, the tilt of her head as if she were looking down her nose at everything and everyone . . .

  Even before the newcomer opened her mouth to speak again, Kate recognized her.

  ‘How do you do?’ Her tones were affected and cold. ‘This is Edith Brownlow and my name’s Isobel Cartwright.’

  Twenty-Three

  Kate knew she was staring at Isobel Cartwright, but she could not stop herself.

  Her stomach was churning. Of all the people she had hoped never to meet again in her life, this girl was top of the list, apart, perhaps, from Miss Denham. Any moment, she expected the girl’s petulant mouth to twist into a sneer and hear herself called that dreadful name. ‘Why, if it isn’t Sicky!’