‘I thought I told you you couldn’t touch,’ Fleur spluttered and Robbie spread his hands in mock helplessness.
They had a blissful week before they had to return and be plunged once more into the middle of the war.
‘I’ve missed you so much.’ Ruth hugged her the moment she walked through the door. ‘The girl they brought in to work in the watch office whilst you’ve been away is thick as pig whatsit. Kay’s never stopped grumbling about her and can’t wait for you to get back.’ She pulled a comical face. ‘Eh, hark at me getting all countrified. And you’ll never guess what?’
Laughing, Fleur shook her head. ‘Go on, tell me.’
‘Harry’s even had me gardening out there.’ She nodded towards the back garden. ‘Said I’d got to keep it in shape for you and that stuff needed gathering and it’d go to waste otherwise and then all your hard work’d be wasted.’ She held out her hands, palms upward, fingers spread. ‘Just look at my hands.’
‘I just hope you’ve not pulled out all the plants and left the weeds.’
‘Oh no. Harry was there, leaning over the fence, telling me what was what. Actually,’ she added, self-consciously, as if she was quite surprised at herself, ‘I’ve quite enjoyed it.’ For a moment her eyes were haunted. ‘It . . . it gets your mind off this bloody war for an hour or two.’
‘Has . . . has it been bad?’
Ruth bit her lower lip as she nodded. ‘Mm. We’ve lost eight planes during the last week.’
Fleur gasped. ‘And the crews?’
Ruth lifted her shoulders in a helpless shrug.
And suddenly, the war with all its catastrophes was back with a vengeance.
Ruth linked her arm through Fleur’s. ‘Now, come and see what else I’ve been up to – with Mrs Jackson’s permission of course.’
Fleur stared at her. ‘What . . . what do you mean?’
‘Come upstairs. I’ll show you.’
Mystified, Fleur followed her up the narrow stairs.
Instead of turning to the small back bedroom where Fleur normally slept, Ruth flung open the door of the large front room that had once been Mrs Jackson’s and her husband’s but was now Ruth’s room.
‘This is your room from now on. Yours and Robbie’s, when he can get away from camp.’
‘But . . . but it’s your room.’
‘Not any more, it isn’t. I’ve moved into your room at the back. I’ – she let out a wistful little sigh – ‘have no need of a double bed.’
‘But you might. You might meet someone and—’
Now Ruth pursed her mouth and shook her head vehemently. ‘No, I’ve told you. I made the mistake once of getting fond of someone and he got killed. I’m not putting myself through that pain again.’ She glanced ruefully at Fleur. ‘Sorry, love, I don’t mean to put a damper on things for you. It’s . . . it’s just how I feel for myself, that’s all. Maybe it’s me that’s being stupid.’
‘No,’ Fleur said gently and touched her friend’s arm. ‘I can only guess how you must have felt, but I do know that if anything happened to Robbie, I wouldn’t want to take up with anyone else. So, if you’d really fallen for this chap, then . . . then . . . I do understand.’
‘Oh, it was only early days with Billy. Nothing serious. We weren’t engaged or anything. Hadn’t even got as far as discussing marriage before he – before he . . .’
‘But you had the feeling that that’s where it might have led?’
Again Ruth bit her lip as tears filled her eyes and she nodded. But then she wiped her eyes and smiled. ‘Come on in and see what I’ve done.’
They stepped into the bedroom and Fleur gazed around her. ‘I don’t remember it being like this.’
‘It wasn’t.’ Ruth laughed now. ‘I’ve painted it. Or rather, Kenny did.’
Fleur’s eyes widened as she stared at Ruth. ‘Kenny? Kenny’s been here?’
‘Oh yes. Cycled over three times, bless him. He’s been great. He did all the painting and your mother-in-law has made the curtains and bedspread. Aren’t they pretty?’ She grinned widely. ‘It’s the best we could do in the time to create a bridal suite for you both.’
‘Oh, Ruth, it’s wonderful.’ Slowly Fleur turned and took in every detail. Then she glanced at Ruth again. ‘Did Kenny say – how things are at home?’
‘Not as bad as they’d expected. It’s a bit frosty, but at least she’s speaking to them both.’
‘And . . . and me?’
‘He’s not said. Sorry.’
Fleur sighed and turned her thoughts away from her mother and back to the present. ‘I don’t know how to thank you for all this. I don’t know how you’ve managed it and keeping up with the garden an’ all.’
‘Think nothing of it. It’s been fun doing it. We’ve had a lot of laughs, me an’ your little brother.’
‘I think a great deal of it, Ruth,’ Fleur told her. ‘And I can’t wait to tell Robbie.’
For a few idyllic weeks, the front bedroom in Mary Jackson’s tiny cottage became their little hideaway from the war even though it was still going on so close to them. But then Ruth came home with news that threatened their love nest.
‘The WAAF quarters are finished. We’ve to move onto camp.’
Fleur stared at her in horror. ‘Oh no! Really?’
Ruth nodded.
‘What about—?’ she began but, not wanting to sound selfish, went on, ‘What about Mrs Jackson’s garden and old Harry? He’ll never manage to keep his house straight without you, Ruth.’
Ruth bit her lip. ‘We’ll just have to come whenever we can. We’ll go and talk to ma’am. She’s a good sort. I’m sure she’ll let us come down here on our time off duty. Especially if we tell her about your garden. After all, that’s part of the war effort, isn’t it? As long as we don’t take advantage of it.’
‘Could we get hold of a couple of bikes, d’you think? It’d only be a few minutes on a bike.’
‘We could try, but bicycles are in short supply just now. Everybody’s riding them to get about camp.’
‘I’ve got one at home. Maybe I could get it here somehow.’
‘Perhaps Kenny would ride it over and hitch back.’
Fleur laughed. ‘I’m sure he would – if you asked him.’
‘Mission accomplished, then.’ Her face sobered. ‘But what about you and Robbie? It’ll put paid to . . .’ She pointed upwards to the floor above and the bedroom that they had made their own.
Fleur nodded but could not speak.
But Mary Jackson, it seemed, had other ideas. ‘You can come here whenever you can. As long as you look after the rooms – wash the sheets, an’ that.’
‘But won’t you want the rooms for other lodgers. Evacuees maybe?’
Mary Jackson laughed softly and shook her head sadly. ‘I’d’ve liked nothing better, my dears, than to have a couple of youngsters here, but I couldn’t look after them, now could I?’
‘They might want the accommodation for a mother with a baby or a young child,’ Fleur said, still unable to believe that nothing stood in the way. ‘They send the mothers too sometimes. They did at the beginning of the war.’
‘They might,’ Mary agreed. ‘But I think it unlikely now. The evacuation seems to have slowed down. In fact, a lot of children are going back to the cities.’
‘That’s true,’ Ruth said. ‘Though I think the parents are daft. Old Hitler might choose any big city to have a go at. Look what he did to Coventry. Why Coventry, for heaven’s sake?’ She paused and then clapped her hands. ‘That’s settled then. As long as we can get permission, we’ll come here every spare minute. Stay the night whenever we can. Fleur and Robbie can do your garden and I can still help old Harry.’ She beamed. It all seemed so easy. ‘Now all we’ve got to do is persuade ma’am.’
Squadron Officer Caroline Davidson was, as Ruth had put it, ‘a good sort’. When the two girls asked to see her, she welcomed them into her office and heard what they had to say without interruption. She was thought
ful for a few moments whilst Fleur and Ruth waited anxiously. Then she smiled. ‘I don’t see why not. Just so long as you’re very careful never to be late back on duty, otherwise it would have to stop immediately.’
Both girls nodded at once. ‘Yes, ma’am. We’ll make sure of that.’
As they saluted smartly and turned to leave, she added, ‘And I’ll have a word with Flight Sergeant Rodwell’s commanding officer. Just to make sure he’s aware of the situation. How very valuable Robbie’s help is for the old lady’s garden on his time off. We’re very anxious to help in the local community whenever we can, you know.’
Fleur turned back to stare at her and was rewarded with a broad wink.
‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Fleur breathed.
Thirty-Four
The last weeks of September passed in a haze of busy hours on duty and, in a way, even busier off-duty time. Kenny brought Fleur’s bicycle over and the following week he came again, pedalling one that Jake had unearthed from the barn for Ruth.
‘It’s a bit of a bone-shaker,’ Kenny said, ‘but I’ve cleaned it and oiled it.’
‘As long as it gets me from A to B, I don’t mind. Thanks, Kenny. I’ll give you a kiss at Christmas.’
Though a flush crept up the young man’s face, he was at ease enough with Ruth now to say, ‘I’ll keep you to that! And now, are you going to help me pick those apples down the bottom of the garden? That poor tree is so laden down, you can hardly see the bench underneath it.’
Ruth chuckled. ‘Fleur often sits there for a bit of a rest. Her and Robbie.’ For a moment, Ruth’s eyes misted over. So often, just lately she had seen them sitting there under the apple tree, talking or just holding hands and watching yet another glorious Lincolnshire sunset. It always brought a lump to her throat. Half of her envied her friend, but deep in her heart she feared for her too.
But now she smiled brightly at Kenny as she added, ‘But I haven’t seen them sitting there lately. I reckon they’re afraid of getting clouted on the head with falling apples.’
‘Well, we can soon put that right. The fruit are well ready for picking – I had a look at them last week. It’s a shame to let them fall off and get bruised; they don’t store so well then. And then they can have their love seat back. Where are they, by the way?’
‘Having dinner in the NAAFI. They’ll be here in a bit.’
Kenny had only just reared the ladder up amongst the branches, when Fleur and Robbie rounded the corner of the cottage.’
‘Need any help?’
‘Hi, Sis. Well, I suppose if you can find another ladder, we’d be done in half the time. I could do this side of the tree and Robbie the other.’
‘Harry’s got one in his shed.’
‘I’ll fetch it.’
Robbie was back in a few minutes with Harry following in his wake.
‘Now mind how you handle them apples. They bruise easy.’ The old man stood looking up into the tree and stroking his moustache. ‘Fine crop you’ve got there. How’re you going to store them?’
‘Lay them out on newspaper under the beds,’ Fleur said.
‘Aye, mind they’re not touching an’ you’ll be all right. Just unmarked ones, mind. Any fallers, Mary can use straight away or dry them.’
‘I’m going to help her bottle some this year,’ Fleur put in. ‘She can sit down to peel them and I can do everything else.’
‘Mum’s busy doing it at the moment. I picked all ours earlier in the week.’
For a moment, Fleur felt a pang of longing to visit her home again. To see her dad and – yes – her mother too.
‘Harry – Harry!’ Mrs Jackson was calling him from the back door. ‘Come away in and leave them youngsters to it. They know what they’re doing . . .’
With a comical smile, Harry shambled back up the pathway and disappeared into the house.
‘They’ll be sat either side of the wireless now,’ Ruth smiled. ‘Listening to—’
‘The news!’ the other three chorused and they all laughed.
‘It’ll be Workers’ Playtime in a bit.’
‘Well, we’ve no time to be playing. Let’s get cracking . . .’
With the beginning of October, summer was over.
‘By heck, it’s nippy this morning,’ Ruth shivered as they hurried towards the NAAFI. ‘We ought to see if we can get Mrs Jackson any more coal. This weather won’t do her arthritis any good.’
‘I know. Have you seen her poor knuckles? They’re so swollen. I didn’t want her to peel all those apples when we were bottling last week, but she insisted.’
‘Mind you she’s that proud of her shelf of bottled fruit, I think it was worth it for her. Made her feel useful again.’
‘Oh, she’s doing her bit, all right. She’s still knitting for the troops and it must be painful for her hands.’
As they walked into the dining room for breakfast, the air was thick with chatter, more animated than usual.
‘Hello,’ Ruth remarked, glancing round. ‘Summat’s up. Let’s find Kay. She’ll know. I reckon she sleeps with the wireless on all night so she doesn’t miss the news.’
They took their places at one of the new tables that had recently been delivered – a table for four that they shared with Kay and Peggy. They were already there, eating breakfast, but talking rapidly too.
‘What’s up, Corp?’ Ruth demanded, sitting down opposite with her loaded plate and reaching for the sauce.
‘He’s advancing on Moscow. That’ll be the end of him. Fancy trying now! In October! Doesn’t he know what the Russian winter is like?’ Kay was excited by the thought. ‘If Napoleon couldn’t do it, I doubt Adolf can.’
‘Well, if he’s got other things on his mind, maybe he’ll leave us alone for a bit.’
It did seem a little quieter at Wickerton Wood, but whether that was because the Germans were busy elsewhere or because of the atrocious winter weather that lay over the whole country, no one could be certain. But everyone was thankful for a little respite, whatever the reason. Life settled into something of a routine, with off-duty times for Ruth, Fleur and Robbie spent at Mrs Jackson’s little cottage. Kenny still cycled over at weekends whenever he could, but now Jake never came and Fleur missed her father more than she ever admitted to anyone.
The weather worsened, the temperature dropped and a cold winter was forecast.
November fog caused disruption to flying. No one minded too much if raids were cancelled, but the worst situation was if, after take-off, a swirling mist shrouded the airfield by the time the aircraft were due back.
‘I hate it when they’re all diverted,’ Fleur muttered quietly to Kay on one such night as they waited in the watch office, the runway only a few yards in front of them completely blotted out. ‘I like to know that D-Doggo is back – that they’re all back safely,’ she added hurriedly, in case she’d sounded selfish.
For once, Kay did not respond with a tart retort. Instead, she sighed. ‘I know just what you mean. It’s daft, but I feel just the same.’
‘Do you?’ Fleur couldn’t stop the surprised question escaping her lips.
Kay smiled wryly as she glanced behind her to make sure that Bob Watson was out of earshot. ‘Oh, I know I sound as if I don’t give a damn most of the time, but inside – I do care.’ Her voice was suddenly husky. ‘I care very much. A lot of my . . . my attitude is just an act, Fleur. Bravado, if you like . . .’ Her voice trailed away and then, suddenly, she was brisk and efficient and razor sharp as ever, ‘But if you ever tell a soul I’ve said this, I shall deny it hotly. OK?’
‘Naturally, Corp,’ Fleur said and, though she gave a playful salute, her tone was sincere. The two girls, bound by their concern for the safety of the same aircraft, exchanged a look of complete understanding.
‘Now, we’d better get ready for telling these boys that they can’t come home tonight . . .’
Later, as they clattered down the steps from Control, they were met by the eerily silent fog-bound station. They
stood a moment, listening, but there was absolutely nothing to hear. Fleur shuddered. ‘Come on, let’s get to bed. I hate it like this. It’s . . . it’s ghostly.’
‘Mm,’ Kay, in a strangely pensive mood, pondered. ‘Makes you think, doesn’t it? I wonder if the ghosts of all the boys we’ve lost come back here? To their station?’
‘Oh, don’t! I don’t even want to think about it. Come on, Kay, let’s see if we can find the WAAF quarters in this lot. I tend to lose my sense of direction in fog.’
After taking a couple of wrong turns and ending up near the main guardhouse, they found their quarters and fell into bed. Fleur was exhausted, but sleep eluded her for over an hour. She knew D-Doggo had landed safely at another airfield, but it wasn’t the same as knowing he was sleeping only a few hundred yards away in the airmen’s quarters. If only they’d hurry up and get the married quarters built, it’d be even better.
The squadron had been forced to go on to land at an airfield in Yorkshire, many of them dangerously low on fuel. Only one didn’t make it and had to crash land in a field. Luckily, the crew only suffered cuts and bruises and came back to Wickerton Wood the following day indignantly travelling in the back of a RAF lorry. The rest of the aircraft flew in throughout the morning. Other than the unwelcome diversion, it had been a successful mission and all the crews were safe.
‘Talk about brass-monkey weather,’ Fleur shivered as she joined the other three at breakfast. ‘D’you know there were icicles on the inside of the window this morning? I wish I was back at Mrs Jackson’s in her nice feather bed.’
‘It’ll be even colder in Russia. It’s the first of December tomorrow,’ Kay remarked, wagging her fork towards Fleur. ‘If Hitler doesn’t take Moscow in the next few days, his troops’ll never survive the winter.’ Her interest in the news never waned. ‘And I’ll tell you something else I’ve heard on the grapevine. All single women between the ages of twenty and thirty are to be called up. So – we’d all have been in the services soon even if we hadn’t volunteered.’
Wish Me Luck Page 24
