The Fleethaven Trilogy

by Margaret Dickinson

  Kate nodded to the clerk. ‘Thanks. I’ll let the rush subside a little and then I’ll see if they’ve any left.’

  Half an hour later, Kate approached the two women. She had been standing a little way off watching them while they handed out cups of tea, always smiling, a cheery word for each soldier, and although the queue stretched right down the platform, they appeared calm and unhurried. But by the time Kate felt she could join the queue the two middle-aged ladies were red-faced and flustered and beads of sweat stood on their foreheads. Kate glanced up the track. There was no sign of the train she awaited, so she left the queue and pushed her way to the end of the table.

  ‘Could you use another pair of hands?’ she volunteered. The older of the two women turned to face her and Kate drew in a sharp breath.

  She was staring straight into a face she knew. An older, more lined face, but there was no mistaking the gentle features of Miss Ogden.

  Twenty-Five

  Was she never to be free of that dreadful place, was her first shocked reaction, but when the initial surprise had subsided, Kate realized she was actually quite pleased to see Miss Ogden again.

  ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’

  Miss Ogden was smiling apologetically. ‘I expect you’re one of our girls, but you do change so much . . .’

  Kate took off her cap and her glorious auburn hair tumbled down to her shoulders.

  Miss Ogden gasped. ‘Oh! Oh – now I know.’ She reached out with hands that trembled slightly. ‘My dear Kate. How are you? Oh, I am pleased to see you.’

  ‘’Ow about a cuppa, darlin’?’ a rough voice broke in and, distracted, Miss Ogden’s hands fluttered without purpose. ‘Oh, yes – er – of course. I’m sorry.’

  Behind Kate another group of soldiers had joined the queue, swelling the demand for tea. She slipped behind the table and stood next to Miss Ogden. ‘Here, let me help.’ Immediately her hands deftly caught up a cup and held it under the tap of the urn. ‘Where are you heading, soldier?’

  The man grinned at her, showing yellow and misshapen teeth. He tapped the side of his nose. ‘Can’t tell you that, darlin’. You might be a bloomin’ spy!’

  Kate laughed gaily. ‘Ya think this uniform’d be a good cover, do ya?’ Without thinking, she had lapsed into her native dialect.

  The man guffawed. ‘I take it back. With an accent like that, you’re one of us, all right.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Kate grinned back, knowing he meant it as a genuine compliment.

  For the next ten minutes the three women worked side by side, and when at last the flood had subsided to a trickle, the other helper handed Kate a cup of tea. ‘Here you are, me duck, you’ve earned that.’

  Kate accepted it gratefully.

  ‘You go and ’ave a sit down with yer friend, Elsie. I can manage the rest of ’em.’

  ‘Well, if you’re sure, Mabel . . .’ Miss Ogden said tentatively.

  “Course I’m sure – and take yerself a cuppa as well.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so pleased to see you,’ Miss Ogden said again, as they sat down in the waiting room together, their hands round the cups and sipping the hot tea. ‘You look wonderful and that uniform suits you a treat. I’ve often thought of you over the years and wondered . . . You had such a rotten time. I’ve often felt guilty I didn’t do more.’

  Kate smiled. ‘You did as much as you could in the circumstances, I realize that now, and a lot more than anyone else there. Tell me,’ she added suddenly. ‘Was it you who put the sugar on the second helping of gooseberries that day?’

  Shyly, Miss Ogden nodded. ‘I couldn’t believe she did that to you. I was horrified. I should have said more – done something . . .’

  Swiftly, Kate patted the older woman’s knee. ‘Please, don’t worry any more about it. It might have made things even worse if you had.’

  Miss Ogden sighed. ‘That’s true.’ She paused, then added, ‘I didn’t blame you for running away, but I was so worried about you.’

  ‘You went to see my relatives, didn’t you?’

  ‘Mrs – er – Godfrey, was it?’ When Kate nodded, Miss Ogden continued, ‘I didn’t know if I’d done the right thing, because the poor woman flew into a panic. She said she’d just posted a letter to your people only half an hour beforehand . . .’

  ‘Yes,’ Kate murmured, remembering vividly the woman’s kind and concerned letter.

  ‘And the next day she sent a telegram and received a reply that you had arrived home.’

  Kate grinned ruefully. ‘I was wrong to do what I did – I realize that now – but at the time, I didn’t think anyone would even care that I had gone.’

  Miss Ogden gave a nervous laugh. ‘Oh, there was pandemonium that night. But I suspect Miss Denham was more worried about the precious reputation of the school than about your welfare.’

  Kate did a swift calculation in her head. Although obviously in the intervening years Miss Ogden had aged, she was nowhere near retirement age. ‘Are you still there – at the school?’

  Miss Ogden nodded and smiled ruefully. ‘No doubt I shall finish my days there.’

  They fell silent. Deliberately, Kate refused to ask about Miss Denham. There was nothing she wanted to know about that woman.

  She opened her mouth to tell Miss Ogden that she had met up with Isobel Cartwright again too, but then she closed it. If Miss Ogden still felt so guilty even after all this time about the treatment Kate had received at the school, then hearing that she was once again in a kind of dormitory with one of her tormentors might fuel the woman’s remorse.

  Now Miss Ogden was asking Kate about herself, about her life in the WAAF. Relieved, Kate launched into telling her about driving for the CO and why she came to be waiting on the station.

  ‘And what did you do before joining up . . .?’ Miss Ogden’s question was drowned by the arrival of a train.

  Kate jumped up. ‘I’m sorry, I’d better go. That must be the one I’m waiting for.’ Swiftly she took Miss Ogden’s hands in hers and squeezed them. ‘I’m so glad we’ve met. Perhaps I’ll see you again some time. I often have to bring the CO here.’

  ‘I hope so. Oh, I do hope so, Kate . . .’ were Miss Ogden’s final words.

  When Philip Trent finally stepped off the train which was running over an hour and a half late, climbed into the car and flopped back against the leather seat, Kate did not have the heart to ask him to grant her leave. He looked exhausted. His eyes were dull, with dark shadows beneath them as if he had not slept since leaving five days earlier.

  As if to confirm this he said, ‘Just get me to my bed, Kate, will you?’

  She glanced at him in the rear-view mirror. He was leaning his head back against the leather of the car seat, his eyes closed, his face gaunt with tiredness.

  Kate sighed and pressed the starter. The noisy engine burst into life, cutting off any further chance of conversation.

  As she drew up outside the CO’s quarters, the sirens began to wail and almost immediately they saw enemy aircraft swooping in from the east, low and deadly.

  ‘Out the car, Kate. Quick!’

  Kate grabbed her tin hat, opened the door and launched herself from the car.

  ‘I hope you can run – come on.’ Philip grasped her arm and began to haul her along, but then Kate began to run – really run – and he let go of her. When they reached the brick-lined trenches that served as an open-topped shelter, he was a couple of yards behind her. He was grinning as he joined her in the shelter, already crowded with airmen and WAAFs. ‘Remind me never to ask you again if you can run!’ he said. But his smile faded as, from the comparative safety of the shelter, they watched the enemy aircraft trying to destroy their station. Some aircraft were making a valiant effort to get into the sky, to escape being bombed where they stood on the ground. But the attack had been swift and sudden and the warning had come too late to allow evasive action.

  Four planes managed to get into the air, but three on the ground were already in flames. Anti-a
ircraft guns pumped bullets at the enemy aircraft as they swooped and dived overhead. One enemy plane was hit and came down in a field just off the airfield’s limits, bursting into flames on impact.

  Horrified, Kate watched as a plane came in low, its black swastika clearly visible. It flew straight towards the control tower. She saw the bomb leave the belly of the aircraft, whistling down towards the tower, where Mavis and Isobel were on duty.

  ‘Oh no!’ Kate screamed and jumped up.

  ‘Get down!’ Philip shouted at her above the noise, grabbing her arm roughly and pulling her down again.

  ‘But Mavis – and Isobel – they’re in there. I know they are.’

  Philip got up and pushed his way out of the trench. In an instant, Kate was right behind him.

  ‘Stay there,’ he commanded.

  ‘No – I’m coming too . . .’

  ‘Hilton – that’s an order.’

  Kate hesitated. It was a serious matter to disobey a direct order from her CO. Philip had turned away and began to run across the stretch of grass between the shelter and the control tower. Fire crews and medics were already running in the same direction. She saw Philip raise his arm to direct a crew towards the tower, one corner of which was badly damaged. Another enemy plane swooped low, aiming its nose directly at Philip as he ran. In his urgency to reach the control tower personnel, it was clear he had not even noticed the plane coming directly for him.

  Kate screamed at him, ‘Philip – look out!’ but above the noise and confusion, she knew he could not hear her. She was up and out of the shelter and running after him before she knew what she was doing. The plane, directly in front of him, was coming closer, but the space between herself and Philip was narrowing too. She saw him glance up, see the aircraft, realize that its blazing guns were heading straight for him. He slowed his pace and hesitated, staring up at the plane. In that split second, Kate reached him, grasped his arm and pulled him a yard to the right. They fell to the ground together as the hail of bullets spattered the ground, pitting the earth exactly where he had been standing.

  They lay there panting.

  ‘I thought I told you – to – stay there,’ he gasped, lying flat on his back.

  Kate raised her head to look at him, disbelief on her face.

  He got up and held out his hand to haul her to her feet. ‘Looks like they’re clearing off now. Out of ammo, I expect,’ he said grimly.

  He stood there for a brief moment amidst all the chaos, still holding her hand, looking down into her eyes. ‘Kate Hilton,’ he said softly, his voice a caress now, ‘are you going to make a habit of saving my life?’ Then he squeezed her hand. ‘Come on, we’d better find your friends . . .’

  The bomb had fallen on one corner of the control tower, demolishing the Signals Room and, below it, the Met Office. There could easily have been as many as five people in the two rooms at the time, Kate knew. The Control Room, where Mavis and Isobel worked, looked, at first glance, comparatively unscathed, although the glass observation room on the roof was completely shattered and fragments were scattered everywhere.

  Figures were staggering from the building, their faces grey with dust and hardly recognizable. Kate saw a tall, plump figure emerge, her arm about a girl whose sleek blonde hair was dishevelled. She had never seen Isobel Cartwright look such a mess.

  Kate rushed forward. ‘Mavis, are you all right? Isobel?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ Mavis gasped, ‘but Isobel’s got a cut on her face.’

  Philip’s deep voice spoke suddenly close by. ‘Is everybody out of the place?’

  ‘No,’ Mavis said. ‘We can’t find Edith.’

  ‘Where was she?’

  ‘In the Met Room,’ Mavis said.

  Already people were digging at the rubble. ‘Go carefully,’ Philip shouted. ‘There may be people still alive but trapped.’ He turned back to the three girls and, nodding towards the wilting Isobel, said, ‘Look after her. I’ll have to get back to my office – if it’s still standing – and see if I can organize some help. Kate – you stay here. I want you to act as my runner . . .’ He paused briefly, and looked at her. Even in the midst of all the devastation, a small smile quirked the corner of his mouth at the aptness of the task he was giving her. No one else he knew could run as fast as Kate Hilton. ‘Keep me informed of everything that’s going on, will you?’

  Kate nodded. ‘Yes, sir.’

  *

  Two hours later they found the bodies; there were three. An airman and two WAAFs. One was Edith.

  ‘She wouldn’t have known what hit her, Kate,’ Philip said gently, when she burst, breathless, into his office, her eyes wide, her cap stuffed into her pocket and her hair flying free, all protocol forgotten in her agitation.

  ‘Here, sit down . . .’ He pushed her firmly into a chair and closed the door between them and the outer office. ‘You could do with a drink.’ From the drawer of his desk he took a bottle and two glasses.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t ought . . .’

  ‘I know, I know,’ he said impatiently. ‘You’re on duty and you didn’t ought to drink, specially not with your CO. But this is for medicinal purposes only.’ Holding out the glass to her, he added, ‘And it’s an order. Perhaps it’s one you won’t mind obeying – for once.’

  Kate was still shaking, her hands felt cold and clammy. Seeing Edith’s lifeless body, covered in dust, being dragged from the wreckage, had made her feel physically sick.

  ‘No – I mean – I didn’t ought to because – because it goes to my head a bit quick.’

  ‘My dear girl, I’m not suggesting you should get roaring drunk.’

  ‘No, but I – I tend to talk too much even when I’ve only had a little.’

  He came and sat on the corner of the desk, just above her. Gently he picked up her hand and put the glass into it, making sure she was gripping it before he let go.

  ‘Well, I’m listening,’ he said softly. ‘It’s no bad thing to talk.’ He sighed. ‘I wish I had someone to talk to sometimes. I’m finding command is a very lonely occupation.’

  She looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Deep in his eyes there was anxiety. Suddenly, she understood the loneliness of his position and all its responsibilities. No wonder he often looked tired and seemed withdrawn.

  She had lost a friend in Edith, for whom she would grieve, but Philip had lost several personnel in his charge and at least three aircraft, and his airfield had been shot to pieces. It was his responsibility to get his station operational as soon as possible. And there would undoubtedly be questions asked about whether correct procedures had been observed before and during the raid and, worst of all to face, whether anything could have been done that hadn’t been to minimize the damage.

  She gulped the liquid in the glass. ‘I’m sorry, you must have lots to do, I’ll . . .’

  He smiled, but it was a sad, forlorn smile. ‘That’s the better side of being in command. One can delegate, you know. I’ve done everything I can for the moment.’ His eyes clouded. ‘I need a few moments myself. Soon I shall have to write some very difficult letters.’

  Of course, now there was no question of anyone on the station having any leave, except perhaps on compassionate grounds. And in all truthfulness, Kate could not say that going home to meet Danny fell into that category. But how she longed to lean her head against his shoulder and feel the comfort of his arms around her and tell him just how she felt, knowing he would understand completely.

  Philip Trent, in his capacity as Station Commander, decided to attend the funerals of those who had been killed. Clearance was given for Edith’s body to be transported home to Nottingham, and the day before her funeral, Philip called Kate into his office.

  ‘I know it’s maybe not usual, but you’ve probably guessed I don’t always go by the rule-book.’ He grinned at her, and, at ease, she smiled back. ‘I want you to drive me to ACW Brownlow’s funeral tomorrow, so I was wondering if you’d like to attend the service too?’

  ‘Yes, I
would. Thank you.’

  He nodded. ‘This is where the – er – rule-book gets thrown out of the window. If your two friends would like to come along too, you have my permission to ask them. I can arrange for them to alter their shifts if necessary.’

  ‘Oh, thank you. I’m sure they would like to. The four of us had got quite close.’ She was almost surprised to hear herself voicing the fact that she looked upon Isobel Cartwright as a friend. But it was true – now.

  Philip nodded again, his face serious. ‘I know.’ He sighed. ‘You make a lot of good friends in this kind of life, all thrown together. But – when something like this happens, well, being close makes it extra painful.’

  He really is an understanding man, Kate thought, marvelling as she ran towards the WAAF site and her hut.

  ‘Did he really say that?’ Mavis asked incredulously when Kate repeated Philip’s offer to her two friends.

  Isobel sat on her bed and blew smoke rings into the air, savouring her new packet of cigarettes; it had been pay day the previous day. ‘He’s different – I’ll say that for him,’ she observed.

  ‘All the chaps like him too,’ Mavis put in. ‘Dave says . . .’

  Kate and Isobel gave a mocking groan, but Mavis only grinned and went on, ‘Dave says they really admire him ’cos he can keep authority and yet be human at the same time.’

  Isobel glanced at Kate, sharing the past for a moment. ‘Not an easy thing to do,’ Isobel murmured.

  ‘So I take it you’ll come.’

  They both nodded. ‘Poor old Edith – it’s the least we can do.’

  Sadly, Kate sighed. ‘It’s all we can do.’

  The car journey to Nottingham was a little strained. Philip, sitting beside Kate in the front, said little, and, taking their cue from him, the two WAAFs in the back seat were silent.