The Girl on the Beach

by Mary Nichols

  It was the main topic of conversation in The Papermakers. It was always full, even when there was a shortage of beer. Half a pint could last all evening if it was larded with conversation and a game of darts or shove-halfpenny, which amused the Americans. They hadn’t taken over the airfield at Swanton Morley as they had done in other places, but since that first draft, they had arrived in huge numbers and spread themselves all over the country. There was no ignoring them and even those who hadn’t a good word to say for them realised they had come to be part of the invasion of mainland Europe, and if they had to invade Britain first, then so be it. There were still some in Swanton flying combined ops with the RAF. The villagers had become used to seeing them around. There had even been a couple of weddings, though the more sceptical among the population wondered what the new wives were letting themselves in for. ‘A strange country, strange customs, and how do they know their new in-laws will welcome them?’ Jane had said.

  ‘It’s too late this year,’ someone said gloomily, staring into his almost-empty glass, swilling the dregs round as if it would suddenly fill again. ‘Another bloody year of this.’

  ‘It can’t get any worse,’ Pam said. Harry was on duty, which was why she had come into the pub with her parents. She had a weak lemonade shandy on the table in front of her. She would not allow herself anything stronger because a baby was due in April the following year. ‘Perhaps the war will be over by then,’ she had said, so happy and optimistic no one had the heart to argue with her. Harry had expressed himself ‘pleased as punch’.

  ‘Wanna bet?’ the landlord said. ‘Did you hear on the news there’s been more air raids on London. Don’t look like they’re ready to give up yet. At this rate there’ll be nothing left standing.’

  ‘There i’n’t nothin’ left standing of Hamburg,’ Bert put in. ‘We’re givin’ them hell. You ask Harry.’

  Harry, along with all the other airmen, was flying almost every other night, pounding away at targets in Germany and the Low Countries, softening them up for the invasion which was sure to come. Germany was being repaid several times over for the Blitz on London and other British cities. He had told Pam the euphoria he had felt at the beginning was wearing thin, and when he looked down at the burning cities, he found himself wondering about the people down below, not only the troops which he said were legitimate targets, but the women, old men and children – women like Pam expecting new life and instead having it snuffed out. He said it was making him feel like a murderer.

  Leave was in short supply that Christmas, but Julie managed a seventy-two-hour pass for the New Year and travelled down to Hillside Farm on New Year’s Eve, which was a Friday. The Kilbys made her as welcome as they always had even though they now knew her secret. As far as they were concerned she was Eve Seaton, their son’s chosen bride. If they had misgivings they certainly did not voice them.

  Maggie and Julie were toasting their toes by the kitchen range after washing up the lunch things, when the door was opened. Thinking it was Walter, Julie did not look up from contemplating the flames, but Maggie did. She jumped up … ‘Alec!’ … and flew to embrace him.

  Julie was on her feet as soon as she heard his name and he crossed the room and hugged her to him, kissing her soundly before she could even utter a word. It was Maggie who did all the talking. ‘Why didn’t you let us know you were coming? We’d have delayed lunch. Have you eaten? Are you hungry? How long have you got?’

  He released Julie and turned to his mother, laughing. ‘I didn’t know myself, so I couldn’t let you know, and I’m due back on Sunday night. And I could eat a horse. Any more questions?’

  ‘Not now, later perhaps. Take Eve into the sitting room, there’s a fire in there, while I rustle up some food.’

  Julie followed him into the next room and they sat down side by side on the sofa where he kissed her again, this time more thoroughly. ‘God, I’ve missed you,’ he said.

  ‘And I’ve missed you.’ She nestled in his arms, no longer afraid. She had seen men come and go, listened to the news and followed the conduct of the war, or as much of it as was made public, and had decided the past did not matter – especially her own past, which had no bearing on the momentous events unfolding about her – that the future was as unknown as the past, and it would be better to concentrate on the present.

  ‘It will be over soon and then we can think of getting married.’

  ‘The war, you mean.’

  ‘Of course the war. I reckon the invasion’s not far off and that will put paid to Hitler and all he stands for. The world will be at peace.’

  ‘When d’you think it will be?’

  ‘Your guess is as good as mine, but judging by all the training we’ve been doing, it can’t be that far away. We’ve been on so many night exercises I feel like an owl. We’ve criss-crossed Salisbury Plain with maps so many times I’m beginning to think I know every rock and pool. Salisbury Plain in midwinter is perishing cold and we’ve been soaked to the skin many a time. We’ve dug defensive positions and been on exercises, when we’ve jumped into supposed hostile forces and practised capturing and holding bridges, and then we’ve taken our turn to be defenders on the ground. On one occasion we were dropped up in Scotland with nothing on us – no money, no identity, nothing – and told to make our own way back to camp in twenty-four hours, and if the police or MPs picked us up, we’d have failed. All good fun but none of it gave any hint as to where we’re going and when.’

  ‘Did you manage it?’

  ‘To get back? Yes, hitched a lift to start with and got as far as Manchester. I’d have stopped by to see you, but I didn’t have time. Then I got on a freight train when no one was looking, which landed me in the middle of nowhere, but there was a little country station with no one checking tickets, so I nipped on a train, dodged the ticket collector when he came round and jumped out just before it rolled into Salisbury Station. I pinched a bike for the last few miles.’

  ‘That was naughty of you.’

  ‘All’s fair in love and war. I reckon the owner got it back. The road to the camp was littered with stolen bicycles, cars and motorbikes. There was even a light aircraft. They couldn’t pin the crimes on anyone and in any case we had been told to use our initiative and a blind eye was turned. But it was made known that anyone who had had a vehicle stolen on the particular day could come and pick it up.’

  ‘And how could they do that if you’d taken their only means of transport?’

  ‘I’ve no doubt a bit of initiative was called for,’ he told her wryly. ‘Anyway, they were paid compensation. Enough of me – what have you been up to?’

  ‘The usual. Minding the stores. We’re not getting so many training courses at Ringway now so perhaps you’re up to strength. I might get moved.’

  ‘Any idea where?’

  ‘No.’

  Maggie called them back to the kitchen, where she had cooked bacon, eggs and fried bread for Alec. He sat down and attacked it with gusto. ‘Anyone would think you were starving,’ she said, watching him eat.

  ‘I am.’

  Julie laughed. ‘You’re lucky your people live on a farm. You should see what townspeople have to manage on. Even tea is rationed now and the cheese ration’s reduced again. There’s a lot of scrounging and dodgy dealing going on.’

  ‘You’ll always get that, town or country,’ Maggie pointed out.

  He put down his knife and fork with a satisfied sigh and turned to Julie. ‘What do you fancy doing tonight, sweetheart?’

  ‘I don’t mind. You choose.’

  ‘There’s a New Year’s Eve dance in Andover,’ his mother suggested.

  ‘Fancy that?’ he asked Julie.

  ‘Yes, why not?’

  Walter had come in while Alec was eating, and having greeted his son, he sat down to remove his boots and put on his slippers, warming on the fender. ‘You can take the car if you like,’ he said. ‘There’s petrol in it.’

  The weather was cold; Julie changed out o
f uniform into a green woollen dress with a matching bolero which could be removed if it became too warm in the dance hall, brushed out her short hair, applied a little make-up and donned high-heeled shoes. It was lovely to be in civvies again and even lovelier to be with Alec. That had been a surprise, but a very welcome one.

  The dance hall was crowded with civilians and service people of both sexes in khaki, navy and air force blue, with a fair proportion of Americans. Everyone was determined to have a good time and the band played all the latest dances, from traditional waltzes and foxtrots to boogie-woogie and swing, from rumba and tango to the hokey-cokey and hands, knees and bumps-a-daisy and the conga, when everyone grabbed the person in front of them and paraded round the floor in a long crocodile. Just before midnight the last waltz was announced and Alec took Julie into his arms for that.

  ‘Had a good time?’ he asked her.

  ‘Yes, lovely, and so unexpected.’

  ‘I love giving you surprises.’

  ‘So I noticed.’

  ‘There’s one more to come.’

  ‘Oh, what?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, would it? Wait and see.’

  The music stopped and started up again to play ‘Auld Lang Syne’ and they linked hands with their neighbours for the traditional ushering in of the new year. ‘Happy New Year, my love,’ Alec said as someone switched on a wireless and they heard the strokes of Big Ben chiming midnight.

  ‘And to you.’

  He kissed her chastely and they stood for the national anthem and then went out to find the car. Halfway home he stopped in a lay-by and turned towards her. ‘I haven’t kissed you properly for ages.’

  She laughed. ‘It was only a few hours ago in your parents’ sitting room.’

  ‘That was ages ago.’ He proceeded to remedy the situation. ‘Pity we can’t go to bed,’ he said ruefully. ‘But I don’t think Ma would stand for it.’

  ‘No, I don’t think she would.’

  ‘It was good, though, wasn’t it, that last time?’

  He was referring to that leave they had spent in the Lake District and what he laughingly called their honeymoon without a wedding. ‘Yes,’ she said, remembering again the wonderful feeling of being loved and wanted, and wanting him with every fibre of her body and soul, and how they had explored each other’s bodies and achieved something she could only call profound and unmatched ecstasy.

  ‘It’ll happen again, over and over when you become Mrs Kilby.’

  ‘I haven’t exactly said I will,’ she reminded him.

  ‘But you’re going to, aren’t you? You’re going to say yes, and you’re going to say it now.’ He pulled a small box from his pocket, took off the lid and picked out the ring that lay there. It sparkled in the moonlight. ‘Eve Seaton, I love you very much. Will you consent to marry me and make me the happiest man in the world?’

  She looked from the ring in his fingers to his pleading face. How could she deny him when it was so much what she wanted herself? ‘Yes, Alec, I’ll marry you.’

  ‘Whoopee!’ he shouted and kissed her and in the process dropped the ring on the floor of the car. They spent several seconds laughing and scrabbling round in the dark trying to find it, and as soon as they did and were once more seated side by side, he slipped it on her finger. ‘There it is and there it stays until the day you take it off to have the wedding ring put on,’ he said.

  ‘You know we’re not allowed to wear jewellery in uniform except a wedding ring.’

  ‘Then put it on a ribbon round your neck. Let’s go home and tell Ma and Pa.’

  ‘They’ll have gone to bed.’

  He grinned. ‘Want to bet on it?’

  ‘You told them?’

  ‘Yes, while you were changing. They’ll be waiting with the wine uncorked.’

  He was right. They toasted each other with Maggie’s home-made wine and laughed a lot and talked about getting married and dates and times for the wedding and the reception, until Julie was quite squiffy. She had to be helped to bed. Alec would have stayed with her but she was sober enough to send him away with a passionate kiss and no more.

  She woke next morning with a raging headache. Alec, who was more used to his mother’s wine than she was, seemed not to be suffering and after breakfast suggested a long walk to clear her head. This they did and on returning home found the house empty and a note on the kitchen table. ‘Gone into Andover to shop. Dad’s helping with the hunt. Make yourselves some lunch.’

  ‘She thinks she’s being tactful,’ Alec said, laughing, and taking Julie’s hand, he led her upstairs.

  * * *

  Harry was tired; he was more than tired, he was exhausted. He had lost count of the number of times he had flown to Berlin in the last three months, and more recently against railways, bridges and other important targets in France, and it was taking its toll, not only of everyone’s nerves, but of men and machines. He was now one of the oldest and most experienced members of his squadron and it was his bounden duty to remain calm under pressure and set a good example. As soon as they landed he went to debriefing and then raced across the airfield to home, where Pam was there to soothe him and feed him and let him sleep. She was a roly-poly now, the time for her to give birth approaching, and he worried it would happen one night when he was flying, not that anything could be done about that. The local midwife had been alerted and her mother was near at hand, and they wouldn’t want an agitated man dancing round them when the time came.

  The trouble was that he couldn’t help thinking about George – plump, happy George whose life had been so cruelly cut short. He could not bear the thought of something like that happening again. It was a good thing there hadn’t been so many air raids lately. Hitler had other things to worry him; when and where the invasion was going to take place for one thing. No one, except those at the very top, knew that but it couldn’t be long now; all the signs pointed to it. A ten-mile strip of the coastline from the Wash to Land’s End had been banned to civilians, more and more troops went on manoeuvres, more and more strange vehicles clogged the country roads. Guns and ammunition trains whooshed past wayside stations, holding up passenger trains. Southern England, and that included East Anglia, was becoming one vast army camp, but still there was no announcement. No doubt he would have a role to play, but he was glad he wasn’t in khaki.

  He didn’t know whether to be pleased or furious when the group captain sent for him and told him he was to be grounded and given a job in the ops room. ‘You’ve done your bit, Flight Lieutenant,’ he said. ‘Let some of the others take over …’

  ‘But, sir, I can’t sit on my arse, twiddling my thumbs while the rest of the crew go off night after night.’

  ‘You won’t be twiddling your thumbs, you can be sure of that. The job is a vital one and will be even more important when the balloon goes up. You’ve done more that your stint of operations. The MO tells me you’re tired …’

  ‘He’s an old woman.’

  ‘Flight Lieutenant, you will not refer to our medical officer in those terms,’ he said sharply. ‘Captain Marison is responsible for the fitness of everyone to do the job required of them and he says you need a rest. It’s non-negotiable. Take fourteen days’ leave and come back refreshed. You are soon to be a father, concentrate on that.’

  Harry saluted and walked out of the office but underneath his annoyance was a sense of relief he would not admit to. He went to find Tim and tell him the ‘bad’ news, only to discover that Tim had also been taken off the flight and was being posted somewhere down south where he was to take on a training role. ‘I reckon it’s something to do with the invasion,’ he said. ‘They need extra pilots.’

  ‘They need wireless operators too. I don’t see why they have to break us up.’

  ‘Don’t tell me you want to move, with the delectable Pam about to drop her sprog any minute. Count your blessings, man.’

  ‘I’ll miss you.’

  ‘I’ll miss you too. We’ll
have a good knees-up at the pub to see me on my way.’

  ‘You’re on.’

  Pam, of course, was delighted by the news that Harry was grounded. She was tired too and felt lumpy and ungainly and longed to be slim again. She was looking forward to being a mother, and though she did not mind whether she had a boy or a girl, for Harry’s sake she would like to give him a son to make up for the one he had lost. He was a loving husband, caring, considerate and always cheerful, but she sensed he was under a lot of strain, and the only way she could help him was to be especially calm and not bother him with trifles. She knew he was disappointed at being grounded and would badger the powers that be to let him fly again. She hoped they would not listen to him, though she did not say so. They were extremely lucky to have been allowed to live together in the village and have something approaching a home life, if you discounted the times when he went off in the evenings and didn’t return until dawn, or when he was required to stay on the station in case he were needed. He’d have to do some nights in the ops room, but at least he’d be on the ground, and when she heard the planes take off and zoom over the housetops she would know he was not in one of them and she would not be sick with worry until he came back.

  ‘When’s Tim having this party, then?’ They had finished supper and she was sitting on his lap on the sofa, her head nestling in his shoulder, the big bump of her coming child sticking out under his hand where he could feel the baby kicking.

  ‘Saturday night. You don’t mind me going, do you?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t, silly. You enjoy yourself.’

  He looked at her with his head on one side. ‘I love you, Pam Walker. Without you I’d fall apart.’

  ‘Oh, go on with you.’

  ‘I mean it. You hold me together, and when the little one comes and this war is over, we’ll have a grand life together, you and I and our children. I’d like more than one.’