It was the sort of thing Sylvia would have said herself in the past. But Roland was different. No other man made her feel like this. She thought once more of that wonderful night. And then she’d had to come back here, leaving him behind.
She smiled wryly. She had been so desperate to leave home, to get away from the Island. Now, she would give anything to be back there. She almost envied Daisy and her humdrum job, her simple carefree life and love for the boy next door.
Thinking of her sister reminded her that she had not answered Daisy’s last letter. She hadn’t written to her parents either. Perhaps it would take her mind off Roland. She made up her mind not to write to him again. It was up to him to get in touch, she thought, shaking her blonde locks and painting a smile on her face. It was easy to pretend she didn’t care.
She would write home though. It wasn’t fair to Mum, not keeping in touch. She knew Dora worried about her. But she would try to sound cheerful and say how much she was enjoying herself in the WAAFs. She couldn’t say too much about her work; letters were censored in case they fell into the wrong hands. If only they knew how boring it was though – just typing and filing. And Daisy thought it was so glamorous. She wrote a short letter and put a note in for her sister asking if there was news of Bob. But she resisted the urge to mention Roland.
***
The next day Daisy and her friends were on duty together and during a lull in the flow of customers they seized the opportunity for a rest and a cup of tea. Daisy was dying to tell June about Lily’s new beau but it wasn’t up to her. Lily wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself though. Her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes gave the game away anyway, and June soon wheedled it out of her.
‘An officer,’ she squealed. ‘How did you manage that?’ Most of the girls in their circle only went out with private soldiers or ordinary seamen. Officers were out of their league. Besides, working here in the NAAFI there wasn’t much opportunity to meet the higher ranks in their job.
Lily recounted the story she’d told Daisy about meeting him on the bus and as they chattered excitedly, Daisy stopped listening. She found her gaze turning towards the door every time it opened and realised she was watching for Lofty – Christopher as she now thought of him. She hadn’t really given up on Bob, but it was hard to stay true to a dream. Just a note, or a telegram to his mother saying he was safe, or a prisoner would be enough, she told herself.
Her thoughts wandered until she heard Lily say, ‘Roland – Roland Hargreaves.’
June giggled. ‘Ooh, posh name.’
Lily slapped her wrist. ‘He’s not that posh.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know what he sees in me though.’
‘Don’t be daft. You’re as good as anyone,’ June replied.
So it was the same man, Daisy thought. Should she say something? No, she decided. Lily looked so happy. Besides, Sylvia had said in no uncertain terms that she wasn’t serious about Roland. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a bit worried on Lily’s behalf. She hadn’t really taken to Roland herself, charming as he was. She remembered the way he’d held on to her hand for too long – until Sylvia took his arm possessively. She’d thought at the time he was a bit of a ladies’ man, not the sort to stay true to one woman, and she worried about Sylvia. She didn’t want her sister to get hurt – or Lily.
***
Her concern for Sylvia was put to rest when she got home and her mother said her sister had written.
‘She sounds as if she’s having a good time. You wouldn’t think there was a war on,’ Dora said.
Daisy quickly read the short note Sylvia enclosed with Mum’s letter. No mention of Roland, she saw with a sigh of relief. She seemed to have forgotten him already; dances with Tim, the pictures with Jumbo, and others. No mention of the war or what work she was doing.
‘I’ll answer this straight away,’ she said. ‘What about you, Mum? Shall we put them in the same envelope?’
‘All right. I’ll try to find time later this evening. I suppose I ought to tell her about Jimmy.’ Dora sighed. ‘I don’t know what to do about that boy. I know he’s not been to school. Goodness knows what he gets up to while we’re all at work.’
‘I think he needs to feel useful. He thinks school’s a waste of time. He told me he’s got a job but he’s too young for proper work.’
‘A job,’ Dora exclaimed. ‘Who’d take on a lad of his age?’
‘Don’t worry, Mum. I’ll have a chat with him. He might tell me things he wouldn’t tell you or Dad.’
‘I just don’t want him getting into trouble.’
‘He’ll be all right. He’s a sensible lad deep down. And look how he managed to get home all the way from Wales, on his own too. That took guts.’ Daisy took a pen and writing pad out of the dresser drawer and sat at the kitchen table to write to Sylvia.
It was a hard letter to write. She didn’t want to mention Lily’s new boyfriend or to ask if Sylvia had heard from Roland. It would help if she knew what her sister really felt about the man. She mentioned that there was no news of Bob but what else could she say? She daren’t mention her growing friendship with Christopher and she didn’t think Sylvia would be interested in anecdotes about her workmates and life in the NAAFI - pretty humdrum compared with the glamour of the WAAFs.
She finished up with a brief account of Jimmy’s adventures as he made his way home. Mum would probably have more to say about that, she thought, as she signed off and folded the single sheet of paper. She addressed the envelope and left it unopened on the table, ready for her mother to enclose her letter.
She looked at the clock and said, ‘Dad’s late.’
‘He’s at another meeting in the council offices - the LDV.’ Mum finished drying the dishes and joined Daisy at the table. ‘It’s all this invasion talk – quite worrying. They’re going to have proper uniforms and guns.’ Dora shuddered.
Daisy took her mother’s hand. ‘That’s all it is – talk,’ she said. ‘You mustn’t worry. I’m sure it won’t come to that.’ But her brave words were a cover for her own fear. Living on the coast and so near to London as well, she realised how vulnerable they were.
She stood up and switched on the wireless, fiddling with the knobs until she found some music. ‘There, that’s a bit more cheerful,’ she said, tapping her feet as the strains of a swing band filled the little room. Then the tune changed, and the Andrews Sisters started to sing, ‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree with Anyone Else but Me.’ A spasm of guilt washed over her as she remembered Bob’s last words to her. She should be thinking about him, not day-dreaming about someone else. She switched the wireless off before the end of the song and sat at the table again, her thoughts churning. She still loved Bob, didn’t she? So why did the tall soldier with the mop of dark curls and laughing blue eyes keep intruding on her thoughts? Of course she prayed nothing had happened to Bob and if she only had news of him, heard that he was safe or a prisoner, she would thank God and put all thoughts of Christopher out of her mind.
‘Dad’ll be home soon,’ Dora said, interrupting her thoughts. ‘I’d better start getting him some supper. Give us a hand, Daisy.’
Glad to have something to do to take her mind of the confusion churning in her head, Daisy got up and took plates and cups down from the dresser.
The back door flew open and Jimmy came in, hair on end, socks creased around his ankles, grinning with excitement. ‘Look what I’ve got, mum,’ he said, holding up a string bag.
Daisy spotted the gleaming scales of a fish through the holes. ‘Where did you get that?’ she asked.
‘It’s a plaice. I caught it off the jetty,’ Jimmy said.
‘I thought no one was allowed on the seafront,’ Dora said. ‘What have you been up to now?’ She grabbed Jimmy’s arm, snatching the bag from him, and turning to Daisy. ‘This boy will be the death of me, always up to some mischief.’
‘I wasn’t, Mum, honest. I was talking to the soldiers and one of them showed me how to catch fish on a hand line.’ His face fell. ‘I thought
you’d be pleased. You can cook it, can’t you?’
Dora’s annoyance faded and she said, ‘Of course. It’ll help with the rations. But please, Jimmy, don’t go there again, promise me. It’s dangerous. You could get into real trouble.’
‘All right, Mum. I promise. But, don’t tell Dad, will you?’
‘He’ll want to know where the fish came from though.’
Jimmy kicked the table leg and hung his head. ‘I suppose so.’
‘Well, wash your hands and face and sit up to the table. We’ll see what he says when he gets in.’
Supper was on the table when Stan got back from his meeting and he was so full of his meeting and what they were planning that he didn’t seem to notice how quiet Jimmy was.
‘Guns? Did you say guns?’ Dora asked.
‘Not yet. But we’ve been promised them. We’ll give old Hitler a run for his money.’ Stan laughed.
‘Stan, it’s no joking matter,’ Dora protested but Daisy laughed too. It felt good to be sitting round the table with her family, and the anxieties which plagued her lately faded into the background. But, as Mum said, it was no joke. The war was coming uncomfortably close. Even if there was no invasion, there could be air raids. Those guns placed all along the seafront weren’t there for decoration.
‘Can I join, Dad?’ Jimmy’s voice interrupted the conversation.
Stan burst out laughing. ‘What? You’re too young, lad.’
‘I’m serious. I want to do something useful.’
‘You’d be better off going to school instead of skiving off,’ Stan said, the laughter fading.
Jimmy started to protest but his father interrupted. ‘Oh, yes. I know what you’ve been up to, young man. This is a small town and I hear what goes on.’
‘I just...’ Jimmy shook his head. ‘Everyone’s doing their bit. I thought I was helping, running errands for the men up on the guns but I’m not allowed now, Mum says.’
‘It’s dangerous, Jimmy,’ Dora said.
‘So why can’t I join the LDV then? I could be useful if the Germans come. They wouldn’t notice a kid...’ His voice tailed off and he looked down at his plate.
Daisy felt sorry for him but there was nothing she could do. Her parents were right. It was too dangerous.
Chapter Twelve
Bob woke suddenly, startled by voices nearby. He burrowed deep into the hedge, holding his breath until the two German soldiers passed by. He did not know where he was or how much time had passed since his escape. He had lain in the ditch for hours until it was full dark. Faint moonlight lit the surrounding countryside with a ghostly glow as he crawled out of the ditch. He had crossed the field and burrowed into the hedge, deciding to rest until it was full dark. It was quiet now, although he could still hear the guns and rumble of tanks in the distance.
He must get back to the coast. Perhaps there would still be a boat to take him off the beach. He couldn’t stay here, risking re-capture by the Germans. Worse still, he could be taken for a deserter if he did not report back – although who he would report to, he had no idea. Supposing they had all been captured and he was alone in this strange country. Should he give himself up?
He tried to settle to sleep again but despite his exhaustion sleep would not come. At first light, he looked around cautiously, then stood up, stretching and rubbing his back. His throat was dry and his stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten or drunk anything for almost two days.
He forced himself on, crossing another field, all the while glancing round for signs of pursuit. But the landscape was deserted. He reached the little copse he’d spotted the night before, glad to lose himself among the trees. But he couldn’t hide out here forever. There must be a farm nearby, surely. He didn’t like the idea of stealing food and drink, but he was desperate. He remembered the kindness of Francoise and her mother, their generosity in sharing what little food they had. He could not expect such a miracle to happen again.
He stumbled out of the trees into a narrow lane and hesitated, not sure which direction to take. The sun was well up now and it was going to be another hot day but at least it gave him some idea of which way to turn. With the sun behind him he should be facing north towards the coast. He wasn’t sure why he felt that was the right way and he was beginning to wish he’d paid more attention in geography classes.
He straightened his shoulders and stepped out, briskly at first, but as the sun rose higher his head began to spin and his steps faltered. Still he kept going, his spirits lifting as he approached the outskirts of a village. He didn’t care if it was already occupied by the enemy.
His last thought as his knees buckled and he fell to the ground was that he must have water.
***
It was cool, so blessedly cool. Bob raised his head and looked around him. He was lying on a stone floor and someone was bathing his head. He struggled to sit up, confused. Had he been captured? But a hand gently pushed him back down. ‘Rest, my son,’ a voice murmured in English.
He looked up into the face of an elderly priest, who smiled at him. ‘You are safe now,’ he said.
Gradually Bob took in his surroundings, the beamed roof, the stone columns and the stained glass windows. It looked familiar. Surely he wasn’t back in the church where he had last seen Francoise. He gasped and tried to sit up again. ‘The Germans? They are here?’
‘Not yet, but they are not far away,’ the priest replied.
Bob’s head cleared and he clutched the priest’s arm as he recognised him. He couldn’t believe it was the same man. Somehow, he had come full circle. ‘How did I get here?’ he asked.
‘Don’t worry about that now. We must hide you.’
‘No. It is too dangerous for you. Besides, I must try to rejoin my mates.’
‘There is no one left. We thought you had all been captured. You must hide while we decide what to do.’ The priest helped Bob to stand, holding his arm and leading him towards a small door behind a column. Steps led down to a crypt. ‘You will be safe here for a while. Stay quiet. I will return soon with food and drink.’
When the priest left, Bob stood for a moment taking in his surroundings. The only light came from a small window high up. He made out a mattress in one corner and he sat down, his head in his hands. How had he arrived back here? He’d thought to be miles away by now. Although he was too exhausted to worry about what might happen to him, he prayed that Francoise had managed to get away and was safely with her aunt. There was nothing to do but wait until the priest returned. He lay down and in minutes he was asleep, the first proper sleep in days, except for those few hours on the ship.
***
There was more than one thing troubling Daisy this morning. Last night she gave in and accepted Christopher’s invitation to the cinema. She could hardly concentrate on the film, so conscious was she of his nearness, the warmth of his hand as he took hers, the feel of his breath on her cheek as he leaned towards her to whisper something about the film.
And then there was that kiss outside her back gate, so different from Bob’s tender caresses. She had fallen into bed confused but happy and this morning hadn’t even looked for the postman as she usually did.
She was on washing up duty this morning, which gave her time to brood. Should she feel guilty for enjoying a romantic interlude? For that was all it was, so she told herself.
But now there was another problem.
As she and Christopher scrambled along the row to their seats, they had squeezed past a couple so wrapped up in each other they hadn’t moved. That was, until the man in RAF uniform looked up and Daisy recognised Roland. But the girl he was with wasn’t Lily.
Should she tell her friend the man she was so smitten with was two-timing her? It would break Lily’s heart but surely it was better to know. And what about Sylvia?
She scrubbed furiously at the dried-on egg yolk on the plate she was washing and sighed. At that moment Lily came through the swing doors with a tray full of dirty crockery.
‘Nothing. I had a good time actually.’
‘Feeling bad about Bob then?’
‘A bit,’ Daisy admitted. She took the tray from her friend and smiled. ‘What about you? How’s Roland?’
Lily giggled. ‘Smashing, although I wish I could see more of him. He doesn’t get much time away from the aerodrome. I miss him,’ she said. ‘Ooh, Daisy, I think this is it. I can’t describe how he makes me feel.’
‘So, it is serious then?’
‘Of course. Never been more serious in my life.’
‘Is it the same for him?’
‘What’re you talking about? Of course it is. You should hear the things he says.’ Lily blushed.
Daisy turned away to hide her expression and concentrated on her washing up. ‘I’m glad you’re happy, Lily.’ How could she shatter her friend’s happiness? And who knew, perhaps there was nothing in it. Or so she tried to tell herself.
When they stopped for their break, June joined them and asked if they were going to the dance at the Wheatsheaf Hall that evening. ‘There’s going to be a band and I heard some of the Poles from Eastchurch will be there.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ Daisy said. ‘What about you Lily?’ She wondered if Roland would be there with the Polish airmen.
‘Can’t. Promised Mum I’d look after the little ones as she’s working late tonight. Besides, my boy friend’s on duty tonight and I don’t want to dance with anyone else.’
‘You should come though. I’m hoping I meet someone nice.’ June did a little twirl. ‘Haven’t had a dance for ages. You’re coming, aren’t you, Daisy?’
‘Well, I was going to stay in and wash my hair, but I might as well.’
‘Not going out with Lofty again then – sorry I mean Christopher,’ Lily asked.
‘I’ve decided not to. It’s not fair to Bob.’ Daisy sniffed. ‘I don’t even know if he’s still alive, but I must keep hoping.’
Daisy's War Page 10
