by Lily Baxter
‘She’s like a whirlwind when she gets going.’ Jack sighed and rubbed his hand across his eyes. ‘I’m not good company these days, and to be honest I’d much rather get my head down for a few hours.’
Miranda rose from her seat and snatched her cap from the coat stand. She put it on, checking her appearance in a mirror placed strategically on top of the filing cabinet. ‘I understand how you feel, but I wouldn’t refuse if I were you. She’s quite capable of turning up at your digs and dragging you out of bed.’
‘I don’t think I’d have done if she hadn’t taken me in hand. She seems to sense when I’m feeling low and she pops up like the genie from Aladdin’s lamp. I think I’d have slit my throat after Izzie died if it hadn’t been for Rita.’
‘She’s got your best interests at heart. She might be an unlikely guardian angel, but you can rely on her to be there when you need a shoulder to cry on.’
His lips curved in a smile. ‘She’s certainly changed a lot since you first brought her to Highcliffe. You’d never think she was the same skinny little thing that Mother took in because old Mrs Proffitt was in hospital.’
‘Practically the first thing she told me was that she wanted to be a pin-up girl and have her photos in glossy magazines. Now she’s mending bicycles and wearing greasy overalls. She’s still a stunner, only now she doesn’t think about it.’
‘Yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I suppose she is. It’s funny but I’ve never really thought about Rita as anything but a kid and a bit of a pest.’
‘Let’s go wait for her in the pub. We can raise a glass to Raif. There’s still a chance he might turn up, isn’t there?’ Her voice broke and Jack slipped his arm around her shoulders.
‘We’ll just have to hope he managed to bail out, even though there weren’t any reports of parachute sightings over the Channel.’
‘He might have managed to land somewhere. I’m not going to give up on him yet.’
‘That’s the ticket.’ Jack kissed her on the cheek and went to open the door. ‘Come on then. Let’s go to the pub.’
Miranda took her cap from its peg. ‘I miss being in the plotting room, Jack. At least we were in the thick of it and knew what was happening. Except that I wasn’t on duty when Gil was shot down, and I had the news second-hand. I’m not sure how I would have handled it if I’d been listening to his Mayday over the tannoy.’ She shot a sideways glance at Jack but he seemed lost in his own thoughts.
‘I can’t say I liked Raif, and we never saw eye to eye.’ He raised his head to look her in the eyes. ‘But we both loved Izzie.’
It was obvious that he had not heard a word she had said, but she knew that he was thinking of Izzie and she gave him an encouraging smile. ‘We’ll drink to them both, unless Rita’s got her own ideas about that as well as everything else.’
‘I’ve never met such a stubborn, hard-headed woman in my whole life, except perhaps my own mother.’ He ushered Miranda out of the office.
‘I don’t think either of them would be flattered by the comparison,’ she said, chuckling.
After several months when there was no news as to Raif’s fate everyone, except Miranda, seemed to have accepted the fact that he had been killed in action and that his Spitfire was at the bottom of the English Channel. It was yet another tragic loss but life at the aerodrome went on as usual. Casualties and deaths occurred with virtually every sortie, and the Luftwaffe was relentless in its attempts to bomb the RAF into submission and destroy the military airfields.
When she was not working Miranda kept herself busy cleaning the castle and attempting to make it more homely, or attempting to cook on the antiquated range and make tasty meals out of their sparse rations. She visited Gil as often as possible, although her days off were few and far between. His progress was slow, but eventually his plasters were removed and replaced by bandages and splints. He was determined to walk again and his hero was Douglas Bader. He had a photograph of him pinned on the wall in his room, together with one of his mother and Felicity. He hastened to reassure Miranda that he had her photo tucked away in his wallet.
‘It’s not that I don’t want Mother to know that we’re seeing more of each other,’ he explained during one of Miranda’s visits. ‘But I don’t want her to start interfering when you and I are just getting to know each other.’ He reached out to hold Miranda’s hand. ‘We’ll tell her when it suits both of us. I can stand up to her, but I’d rather do it when I’m on my feet than laid up in hospital. When Mother gets a bee in her bonnet she’s hard to convince otherwise.’
‘I know someone else like that,’ Miranda said, smiling. ‘I think your mother and my grandmother would make a good pair.’
Gil gazed down at their entwined fingers. ‘I don’t want to scare you off, Miranda. Seeing you has been the one thing that’s kept me from giving up entirely, but you don’t owe me anything. I wouldn’t want to tie you to a cripple, and I’m not made of glass. I won’t splinter into shards if you tell me you’ve had enough.’
‘Shut up, Gil.’ She leaned over to brush his lips with a kiss. ‘I come because I want to see you and I don’t care who knows it.’
‘Just so long as you realise that I won’t hold you to anything.’ He released her hand with a guilty start as a nurse entered the room. ‘Don’t tell me it’s that time already.’
‘It is indeed, Flight Lieutenant Maddern.’
Miranda rose to her feet. ‘I’d better go, but I’ll be back, Gil, and that’s a promise.’
With the approach of autumn and the prospect of harsh winter weather looming ahead, Viv and Joan decided one day that the roof repairs could wait no longer. As there was nobody they could call upon to help, they opted to try their hand at thatching. Joan said that she had a good head for heights and she had been brought up on a farm in East Anglia where she had seen thatchers at work. She was confident that she could do just as well, but when she slipped off the ladder and tumbled several feet to the ground there was a moment of panic. She lay groaning in agony, with her right arm bent beneath her and a large bruise on her forehead.
‘You silly cow,’ Viv said crossly. ‘I told you it was dangerous.’
‘My arm,’ Joan murmured, closing her eyes. ‘I think it’s broken.’
‘We ought to get her indoors,’ Rita said, frowning. ‘It’s going to rain any minute.’
Miranda shook her head. ‘We mustn’t move her. She might have hurt her back. You’ll have to cycle to the aerodrome, Rita. She needs an ambulance.’
‘If only we had a telephone.’ Viv stared anxiously at Joan. ‘They’d have a phone at the railway station, wouldn’t they?’
‘Yes, but the aerodrome would be our best bet. I’ll be as quick as I can.’ Rita rushed off to the lean-to where they kept their bicycles and without stopping to get a coat or hat she leapt on the saddle and pedalled off.
Viv clutched her hand to her mouth. ‘I feel sick.’
‘Don’t think about it,’ Miranda said hastily. ‘Go indoors and get a blanket. She should be kept warm or she might go into shock.’
Joan moaned even louder and Viv raced off, disappearing around the corner of the building. Miranda knelt down on the concrete path. ‘You’ll be okay. Hang on, Joan.’
It seemed like an eternity as they waited for the ambulance to arrive but they made Joan as comfortable as possible, and Viv insisted on making a pot of tea. Miranda said that Joan ought not to have anything to drink in case she had to be anaesthetised when she reached the hospital. On hearing this Joan started to sob, but Miranda managed to calm her down and Viv drank the tea.
Eventually Rita came clattering round the side of the house, flushed and breathless but obviously very pleased about something. ‘Guess who’s driving the ambulance, Manda?’
‘I haven’t the faintest idea. Is it here?’
‘They’re just getting the stretcher out. It’s old Toopy. He’s a medic now. Would you believe that?’
Miranda could not have cared less if the devil himself wa
s driving the vehicle if it would bring relief to Joan, who was looking alarmingly pale and, even more frightening, had stopped complaining.
Tommy was calm and professional as he examined her. He chatted cheerfully as if it were the most natural thing in the world to be dealing with a young woman who had fallen off a roof, and he gave her something to ease the pain before he and his colleague lifted her onto the stretcher.
‘Well done, Tommy,’ Miranda said as she followed them round to where the ambulance was parked in the lane. ‘But why did they send you? You’re stationed at Bovington, aren’t you? I was expecting the local ambulance to come.’
‘We were the nearest and the best.’ He grinned down at her. ‘Anyway, the others were all out on emergencies and we happened to be available.’
‘I’m so glad you were. Poor Joan took a terrible tumble.’
‘She’ll be okay.’
‘You’ve surprised me, Tommy. I didn’t think you had it in you.’
He puffed out his chest. ‘I’ve found my calling. When the war’s over I’m going to be a civilian ambulance driver.’ He leaned over to pat Joan on the shoulder. ‘All right, love. We’ll get you fixed up in no time. Hold tight.’
Miranda stood back as they manoeuvred the stretcher into the vehicle. She looked round to see if Viv or Rita wanted to go with Joan but they were nowhere in sight. ‘I’ll come with you, if that’s all right, Tommy.’
‘That’s okay. Hop in.’
Joan had fractured her arm and would be out of action for several weeks until her broken bones knitted together, and this left them short-handed in the repair shop. Miranda found herself promoted or demoted, whichever way she chose to look at it, to take over Joan’s work. It had been Rita’s idea, of course. Rita was always at the forefront when it came to organising the people around her. She knew that Miranda hated clerical work with a passion, and she had somehow manipulated their section leader into thinking that to move Miranda to the repair shop had been her decision. Miranda for her part did not argue. Anything, she thought, would be better than filing and filling out requisitions all day, and she did not mind getting her hands dirty. It was all a means to an end, and even when Joan was fit to return to duty after Christmas, Miranda opted to stay where she was and Joan was given clerical duties.
Whenever she had some free time Miranda cycled to Highcliffe. Dickens seemed to sense her imminent arrival and he would amble somewhat arthritically along the garden path to greet her, arching his back and purring loudly as he nuzzled her hand when she bent down to stroke him. She felt a sense of calm descending upon her as she gazed up at the old house. It was as ugly as ever and its paint might be peeling and its brickwork needed pointing, but it was still standing alone and defiant on the cliff top as if offering a challenge to the enemy.
She had the comfort of knowing that despite the traumas of war, nothing much would have changed at home. Her grandparents, with characteristic stoicism, were still doing their bit for the war effort. Her grandfather was still heavily involved in the Home Guard, and despite his advancing years he was a fine figure of a man. Miranda thought how distinguished he looked in uniform, and when he enveloped her in a great bear hug she felt like a child again, safe and secure. The clean spicy scent of him lingered long after they parted and she knew that this was how she would always remember him, even when she was an old woman, if she survived that long. She tried not to think too far into the future and took comfort from her time spent with her grandmother, timing her visits so that she caught her in between shifts at the WVS canteen.
On one such visit they had been sitting on the veranda enjoying the spring sunshine when the sky clouded over and a cool breeze tugged at their clothes and hair. Maggie shivered. ‘Let’s go indoors.’ She stood up, displacing Dickens who had been snoozing on her lap. He gave her a baleful look and leapt back on the seat, curling his tail around himself and closing his eyes. ‘Stubborn animal,’ Maggie said fondly. She opened the French windows. ‘Come inside, Miranda. We’ll have tea before you go back to your wretched hovel.’
Miranda followed her indoors. ‘Is Dickens all right out there, Granny? I mean he’s getting old now.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ Maggie moved to an armchair and sat down. ‘We’ll have some cake if there’s any left. I’ve been entertaining some of the young American soldiers who are stationed close to town. They’re good company, but they eat us out of house and home.’
‘There are Americans at Warmwell too.’
‘They’re charming boys and so far from their homeland. I feel the least I can do is invite some of them to Sunday lunch every week.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Granny.’
‘They don’t seem to mind what they eat, even if it’s only meat loaf or Woolton pie. Or perhaps they’re simply too polite to complain. Annie grumbles, of course, but they sweet-talk her and she absolutely loves it. I’ll really miss them when they eventually return home.’ She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Will you go and see what’s keeping Annie? She should have brought the tea tray by now. I’m afraid she’s getting quite slow these days, but then we’re all getting older.’
Miranda leaned over the chair and kissed her grandmother’s lined cheek. ‘You’ll never be old, Granny. You’ll live to be a hundred and still be beautiful.’
‘Flatterer.’ Maggie shooed her away, but she was smiling.
Miranda found Annie sitting at the kitchen table. She gave a guilty start as the door opened, covering whatever it was she had been munching with her hands. She relaxed visibly when she saw Miranda. ‘I thought it was Mrs B,’ she said, lifting her hand to reveal a Hershey bar. ‘The American GIs give them to me, only your gran doesn’t approve. She says I shouldn’t take things from them when it’s their rations.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that, Annie. I’m sure they can spare a bar of chocolate or two. Anyway, if you refused it might offend them.’
‘Quite right.’ Annie stuffed the last piece of chocolate into her mouth, chewed and swallowed. ‘I have to eat them here because Elzevir has a sweet tooth. If I took them home that would be the last I ever saw of my candy.’ She licked her lips, smiling. ‘That’s what the Yankees call it. They don’t say sweets like we do.’
‘Granny sent me to remind you about tea.’
‘They’re such polite young men, Miranda. They thank me very nicely and call me ma’am. One of them gave me some nylon stockings as well as the chocolate. Not that I wear such things; lisle is quite good enough for me. I gave them to my young niece.’
‘And I’m sure she was very pleased,’ Miranda said patiently. ‘Shall I put the kettle on, or will you?’
Annie inclined her head graciously. ‘I’ll do it. You’re a guest, Miranda. Go and chat to Mrs B and think yourself lucky that there aren’t any of her rocks to eat. What with rationing and feeding the whole of the American army, we don’t get a chance to eat cake ourselves.’
‘But you have your Hershey bars,’ Miranda said, chuckling. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell Granny.’ She left Annie to make the tea and made her way back to the drawing room.
‘What are you grinning at?’ Maggie demanded. ‘Where’s my tea?’
‘It’s coming. Annie was just waiting for the kettle to boil.’ Avoiding her grandmother’s suspicious gaze, Miranda resumed her seat.
‘She’s up to something, Miranda. That woman will be the death of me.’
‘You don’t mean that, Granny. You’d be lost without her.’
‘Hmm.’ Maggie tossed her head. ‘I doubt that. Anyway, tell me about that young man of yours. Mad Bull, or whatever he’s called.’
‘His call sign was Mad Dog, and his name is Gilbert Maddern – Gil for short.’
‘Well, dear, no one’s perfect. Anyway, how is he? Is his mother still playing up? I could always have a word with her.’
‘I think she’s rather given up, Granny. I visit Gil in the hospital whenever I can, and we write to each other almost every day. He’s doing v
ery well now and the doctors say he’ll walk again.’
‘I like the sound of him much better than Raif Carstairs.’
‘He’s still missing and I don’t think there’s much hope of ever finding out what happened to him.’ Miranda stared down at her tightly clasped hands.
‘It’s just as well, Miranda. Raif was too much like his father. Max Carstairs nearly wrecked my life and I wouldn’t want to see history repeating itself.’
‘It won’t, Granny.’
‘I should hope not. It’s bad enough knowing that your mother is risking hers by spying on the Germans without you falling for someone who would break your heart.’
‘I haven’t heard anything from Maman,’ Miranda said, biting her lip. ‘I try not to think about the awful risks she’s taking in France. I wish I could talk to someone in authority and find out if she’s safe.’
Maggie took a hanky from her pocket and handed it to her. ‘Don’t start blubbing, Miranda. You’ll start me off.’
Miranda dabbed her eyes. ‘Sorry.’
‘And don’t apologise. Actually there is some news of her. Your grandfather has been in touch with an old army chum in the War Office.’
‘What did he say?’ Miranda leapt to her feet. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’
‘I didn’t want to raise your hopes in case it all went terribly wrong. Apparently she’s been in Paris all this time, but now there’s talk about bringing her home.’
‘But that’s wonderful.’
Maggie shook her head, frowning. ‘It is, of course, but she isn’t out of danger yet. Your grandfather didn’t want me to tell you until we were absolutely certain, and now I wish I’d kept my mouth shut.’
‘I’m not a little girl now, Granny. I’m very glad you told me. I was beginning to think I’d never see her again, but you’ve given me fresh hope.’ Miranda glanced over her shoulder as the door was pushed open and Annie marched in carrying a tray of tea. ‘Have you heard the news, Annie? My mother is coming home.’
‘That’s nice.’ Annie placed the tray on the table near Maggie’s chair. ‘I found some biscuits at the bottom of the tin.’
