She offered what was meant to be a frosty rebuff. ‘I really wouldn’t know.’
‘Great. Then I’ll take it till I’m kicked off of it.’ He sat down, ordered tea, and started to pull out a pack of cigarettes.
‘I’d rather you didn’t smoke, if you don’t mind?’
‘Oh, sure. No problem.’ He slipped them back in his breast pocket. Kath was lonely. She missed the cheery faces of the aircrew coming and going all the time, and their lively banter, though admittedly she did not at all miss having her sleep interrupted by the roar of Merlin engines and aircraft taking off at all hours of the night.
She missed the many friends she’d made on all of the stations. Olive, Rosie, Alice, but most of all she remembered blunt, cheerful, open-hearted Bella who’d started the war with her way back in 1940, three years ago. But most of all she missed Wade, still, after all this time. She’d heard of him from time to time on various postings but they’d never been given the same one, and he had made no effort to contact her. Not that there was any reason why he should.
But she had no wish to be reminded of him now by this cheeky faced GI, looking for a woman, any woman with two arms, two legs, and everything in the right place in between.
Much to the amusement of the other customers he smilingly continued his conversational battery as if they were old buddies. ‘Hey, how about you and me taking in the dance on Saturday night, honey, up at the station? You’ll just love it. I bet you’re a real sharp little mover.’
‘I don’t think so.’ Kath offered him her best drop-dead-Corporal stare. It didn’t work.
‘Why not, for heaven’s sake? What else is there to do around here? Unless you’re fixed up already? I’ve no wish to tread on anyone else’s toes.’
I’d just love to step on yours, Kath thought. She drank her tea, rather more quickly than she’d intended, and stood up. ‘Thanks, but no thanks, if you get my drift.’ Turning on her heels she walked out.
Maybe it’s the loneliness that makes me feel so sour and hard, she thought. Or all the neglected things that she’d meant to do one day but had constantly pushed from her mind. Like write to Meg. There were some things best not thought about at all. What she had done to her friend was one of them. Nothing could ever be the same between them again, deep in her heart she knew that, and regretted it more than she could say. Perhaps that’s why she hadn’t written.
Then there were her parents. I suppose they don’t even know if I’m still alive, she thought. Strange feeling, and another source of guilt.
Somehow it was as if the optimum moment had passed. As each week, month and year had slid by, sometimes whirled by in a welter of work and sleepless nights, the unresolved decisions seemed harder to make. Now, in the summer of 1943, a simple letter to her family would prove to be a major incident. One she could well do without.
What was the point, anyway? Getting to know and like people was a waste of time. You only lost them in the end. Meg, even her parents, must have grown used to her absence by now. So what did it matter?
Except that she had a daughter somewhere, whom she ached to see.
‘There is a war on, you know.’
Kath arrived back at HQ to be told to pack a bag and drive a Commander Thompson to Lincoln, and could she get a move on? ‘I wish I had a pound for every time I’d heard that remark,’ she muttered. ‘It is my day off. I was planning on going to a matinee this afternoon.’
‘Not now it isn’t. Get a move on, Corporal.’ Having delivered his bombshell, the jumped-up little sergeant went to harass someone else while Kath stumped off to her room with every sign of ill grace though secretly pleased to be on the move again. She hated having nothing to do. Nevertheless a moan was expected, the point needed to be made.
‘It’s a madhouse. Thank heaven I don’t have to stay in HQ longer than it takes to collect my passengers,’ she wrote that night in her regular letter to Bella.
‘I spend most of my time driving the top brass to some meeting or other in camps all over East Anglia. I’ve slept in more strange beds than any decent woman should in one lifetime.’
Though Kath decided not to risk mentioning it in the letter, it was hard not to be aware of an air of expectancy about the place. Everyone had the feeling that there was to be some great push soon to finish off the war. Tension was high and tempers often short. No one quite liked to talk about it too much, in case they spoke out of line. But the Second Front was definitely being planned. All these meetings she’d driven to must have some purpose, for goodness’ sake. Everyone knew it. But then Bella could read between the lines.
Kath chewed on the end of her pen for some time then added a postscript. ‘Have you heard anything of Commander Wadeson lately?’ She didn’t know why she felt the compulsion to ask. He too had moved on long since, but every now and again Kath couldn’t resist putting it in her letter. Bella would reply that no, she hadn’t seen him in an age, and that would be that. When her friend’s reply came a couple of weeks later, Kath ripped it open at once, eager for news, for the imagined sound of a friendly voice.
She flicked through the usual jokey stories and mishaps of WAAF life and then was brought to a stunning halt. ‘Hey, what do you think, old sport? I’m getting married. Yep, got the divorce from old po-face easy as pie and am doing "The Deed" on Saturday. He’s called Alan and he’s a dear. Wish me luck.’
Doing ‘The Deed’. Getting married? Kath could hardly believe it. And I won’t be there. Damn. It hurt, more than she cared to admit, not to be invited. But weddings were often in a rush these days, and transport was always difficult. Would Bella leave the WAAF now, or carry on?
She turned the paper over and saw the postscript. ‘Funny you should ask about old Wadeson. He called in to see me once when he was visiting Bledlow. Asked after you. Where you were stationed and so on. Did he contact you? Glad to hear you are enjoying your work. Will write again when more time. Love Bella.’
To her shame, the letter made Kath feel more lonely than ever. Bella, frustratingly, hadn’t said when Wade had called. But no, he had not contacted her, not in all of the last three years. Why she even expected him to was beyond reason. No doubt he flirted with all the new young Waafs. But try as she might, it was hard to put him out of her mind.
On Saturday morning Kath was bargaining over the price of a pair of new shoes at a market stall when the same GI turned up again, persistent as a bug in bed. Which is where he’d like to be, Kath thought, unable to quench a smile at his cheek.
‘Hallo again. How ya doin?’
Kath very nearly told him to go and take a very long walk off a very short pier but the memory of Bella’s letter was still strong in her mind. Great big cheerful Bella, who had once sworn that she had given up men for good, was getting married.
When she stopped to think about it, several of the other girls she’d come to know in recent months had also done ‘The Deed’. Not only was there no likelihood of herself following suit but, Kath thought morosely, at very nearly twenty-four years of age she was ashamed to say she didn’t even have a fella, let alone a whiff of orange blossom. Drat the war. Drat Ewan Wadeson.
‘Is that offer still on?’ she asked suddenly, laughing at the shocked surprise on the GI’s face.
‘Sure thing.’
‘See you there about eight?’
‘Wow! Okay, lady, you’re on.’
Kath was aware of his eyes following her all the way down the Market Street. Oh lordy, what had she done now?
The five-piece band was really not at all bad, but the dancing was something else again. Lots of girls in bright red lipstick and curled hair dancing cheek to cheek with the American airmen and soldiers. ‘It’s called smooching.’
‘Really?’ Kath had no wish to try it. In fact she was beginning to regret accepting this GI’s offer of a date at all. She longed suddenly to be back in her room at HQ with a good book.
‘The other is the jitterbug. Have you ever tried it?’
‘Don’t
even consider rolling me across your shoulders in that way,’ Kath warned, and he moved his gum from his mouth, stuck it on the door post, and grinned at her.
‘Why not? It’s fun.’
‘In a tight blue WAAF skirt it could be hysterical.’ Not to mention the regulation knickers.
‘What did you expect? The waltz?’
Kath gave a thin smile. Maybe she had, but nothing on earth would have her admit as much. ‘Is there a way to do this jive without quite going overboard?’
‘Sure thing. Come on, I’ll show you.’
And he did. Brad, as he introduced himself, was an expert. To be fair, Kath soon found she was enjoying herself. The music quite chased the blues away. But Brad wasn’t Wade. She’d make this the first and last date. By the way he clung to her, she’d best find a crowd to go home with.
At the interval, when the band took a rest, Brad went in search of ice cream while Kath sat and fanned herself in a comer. She was so busily engaged in trying to overhear a most interesting argument going on between a GI and an ATS girl right behind her that she didn’t see the man approach until he was standing right in front of her.
‘Kath Ellis, isn’t it?’
Then she gave a loud squeal, bringing everyone’s head swivelling in her direction.
‘Dear lordy, Charlie! I don’t believe it. How are you? What are you doing here? Where have you been? Oh, Charlie let me look at you?’ He was laughing and hugging her and swinging her round and trying to answer her questions, all at the same time. Breathless with laughter, they both fell back on to the chair, Kath on his lap, since there was only the one.
‘I’m stationed near here,’ he told her. ‘What about you?’
‘HQ. Driving the top brass to hush-hush talks.’
‘A Waaf?’ He held out her arms to examine her properly. ‘Who’d have thought it? This is a far cry from haytiming in Westmorland. Wait till I tell Meg.’
The smile died from Kath’s eyes.
‘Oh, I haven’t told her or anyone about my being a Waaf. Where I am, or anything.’
Charlie regarded her with Meg’s look-alike eyes, then ran a hand through the pale gold hair that still fell forward on to his brow. ‘I knew there was some sort of problem, and that she’s been anxious about you. But I didn’t know what.’
‘It isn’t important.’
Charlie gave a disbelieving smile. ‘It must be for you two to fall out. Are you going to tell me about it?’
She shrugged her shoulders with airy indifference. ‘Meg is better off without me. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?’
‘About Meg…’
They were interrupted by Brad returning with two dishes of ice cream and the usual broad grin. The latter swiftly faded when he found ‘his girl’ sitting on another guy’s lap, particularly since he hadn’t even reached first base.
‘Hey, what gives?’
Kath scarcely glanced at him. ‘Sorry, Brad, this is Charlie, a very old and dear friend of mine.’
‘So I see.’
Charlie set Kath on her feet and put a hand on Brad’s beefy shoulder. ‘What Kath says is right. We go back a long way.’
‘And I bought the goddam’ tickets.’ A stubborn unpleasantness was now coming into the other man’s eyes and Charlie held up a placating hand.
‘Hey. Look, mate, I don’t want any trouble.’
‘Well, you sure as hell got it.’ Brad flung the ice cream aside and hit Charlie smack in the jaw. Charlie went sprawling across the dance floor, sending couples flying, girls screaming.
In a frighteningly short space of time a pair of MPs appeared, fighting their way through the melee of arms and legs to march both Charlie and Brad away.
‘I’ll call you later,’ Charlie shouted as Kath stood, dazed and helpless, watching them go. ‘`I need to talk to you.’
‘Forget it, airman. You won’t be calling anyone for a long time.’
A few days later Kath found a note from him in her pigeon hole. ‘Survived the glasshouse. Want to see you. Can you get away Friday? Fourish. The Bluebell Caff?’
Kath was at a table by three-forty-five. She’d always liked Charlie. He’d seemed chockful of enthusiasm and plans as a boy, and just the same now by all appearances. But she was also anxious suddenly to hear all the news of Broombank and Meg. To know that her parents were well. She allowed her thoughts to go no further than that.
The tiny doorbell tinkled and in he walked, broad-shouldered and cheerful as ever, with the kind of easy swagger she’d grown used to seeing on aircrew. But as he came towards her she recognised that some of the cheeriness was no more than bravado. She’d seen that too, in any number of faces going off on ops. A certain stillness, a haunting quality in the eyes, the skin tight and the mouth drawn in. Later, when the crew returned after a successful mission, they would be relaxed and noisy, laughing and boisterous.
He took the seat opposite her. She’d no intention of fussing him, that wouldn’t do at all. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. They ordered tea and two sticky buns, which were an improvement on the ‘wads’ they got at HQ.
‘Where are you stationed?’
He told her. An out-station no more than a mile or two down the road. ‘You’ll come and see me? I have a bit of time free sometimes, in the late afternoon and evenings.’
‘No ops these days?’
Charlie shook his head. ‘I’ve done two tours, one with Stirlings, one with Lancasters. That’s enough.’ His face lit up for a moment. ‘W for Whisky. We were the cream.’
Kath laughed. ‘And don’t you know it!’
He grinned. ‘Why not? It was a good feeling. We were the survivors after all.’
Silence for a moment as they both thought of the less lucky ones who did not survive, so many young friends lost.
‘When the invasion starts, will you be with them?’
‘Who knows? The Americans are having a terrible time of it. Finding daylight raids not such a good idea. But I’ve done my bit. Time to stand down.’
‘So you’re flying a desk now?’
‘No chance. I’m no paper shoveller.’ The enthusiasm was back in his face and Kath saw with a start how young he was. No more than twenty-two, after all. ‘They’ve got me on a course in aeronautical engineering, which is great. There’ll be a good future in aviation after the war and I mean to be involved in it.’
‘Building aircraft?’
‘Why not?’
‘Good for you.’
Silence fell again, awkward and strained, and a terrible fear was born inside of her. If he wasn’t worried about ops, then what was it that tightened his jaw in that dreadful fashion?
‘What is it, Charlie?’ she asked, suddenly afraid. ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’
Chapter Eleven
‘We’ll be closing soon, dear. Will you be wanting any more tea?’
‘What? Oh, sorry.’ Kath’s cup stood cold and untouched while she sat stunned, unable to take in all that Charlie was telling her.’ Meg’s all right, you say?’
‘Oh, yes. And your father. He didn’t go in the house apparently, though he was about to, for a cup of tea. Then when Dan arrived he changed his mind and took Lissa for a walk instead.’
Kath held her breath. ‘Lissa?’
Charlie met her gaze evenly. ‘Meg got a little girl from an orphanage in Liverpool. Lovely little thing called Melissa, but we all call her Lissa for short. Seems to suit better.’
He didn’t know.
Kath cleared her throat, her mouth having gone suddenly dry. She raised her hand to the waitress. ‘Perhaps I do need a fresh pot after all. This one is stone cold.’
‘That’s all right, dear. I’ll fetch you one.’ The waitress hurried off. She’d seen that white-faced look a lot lately. Why folk always chose to tell their bad news over a pot of tea was quite beyond her. Waste of a good brew, it was.
‘So Meg is back home with Father and it’s not going down too well, Charlie continued. ‘Losing Broombank has knoc
ked her flat. Feels she’s right back where she started. Not quite true, of course, because she still has the land. Though she lost a lot of the stock she’d built up.’
‘And Dan... was he killed?’
Charlie nodded. ‘Outright. Effie too.’ He blinked and swallowed a mouthful of cold tea. ‘Everyone loved Effie. She was an evacuee. Came up to Westmorland because it was a safe area. Loads came at the beginning of the war but most went right back home again within days. Effie found she loved it. Meant to stay for life. She loved Meg. Like a mother to her, Meg was.’
‘How dreadfully sad.’
There seemed nothing else to say for a long time after that. The waitress brought a fresh pot and cups, whisking away the old ones with comforting clucks of her tongue. Charlie and Kath sat and sipped the soothing liquid, deep in their own thoughts for some time.
‘You’ll go and see her?’ Charlie said, anxiety in his voice. ‘She could do with a friend right now.’
Kath kept her eyes down. ‘I’m not sure she’d want to see me.’
‘I don’t believe that. You two were the best of friends. Inseparable.’
‘So we were. Once. Things change.’ Seeing the questions in his eyes, she shook her head. ‘Don’t ask, Charlie. It’s complicated.’
‘And none of my business?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
He smiled. ‘You didn’t need to. OK, I’m not one for pushing my nose in where it’s not wanted, but don’t let this thing, whatever it is, go on too long. Soonest healed, soonest mended. Isn’t that what they say?’
Kath tried to smile but it came out wrong, twisted somehow. Her head teemed with questions. All about what Meg was doing living at Broombank. Perhaps Lanky had died. He was an old man. But how did Tam O’Cleary come to be there? Most of all she wanted to ask about Lissa. What did she look like? What colour were her eyes? Was she well? Did she seem happy? Did she laugh a lot? So many questions they all scrambled together in her throat, and none of it came out.
She stood up. ‘I have to go.’
Storm Clouds Over Broombank Page 15
