Norman had the grace to look a little abashed. ‘Only joking, mate,’ he muttered. He looked at Daisy and said, ‘Beg your pardon, Miss Bishop.’
She nodded and replied. ‘I accept your apology. But, as Chris said, if you aren’t polite to me or my friends in future, your next cup of tea might accidentally end up in your lap.’
Chris felt like cheering as the other man stood with his mouth open. The queue moved forward, but Norman seemed to have lost his desire for chips and walked away.
When they’d been served, they walked up the road eating out of the newspaper. Daisy suddenly started to laugh. ‘His face, Chris, did you see his face?’
Chris laughed too. ‘Did you mean it about spilling his tea?’
‘Not really. Mrs Green would have my guts for garters if I did anything like that. Still, it might be worth it. I must admit I’ve been tempted many times when your mates start hassling me.’
‘They’re not all my mates,’ Chris protested. ‘I get on well with most of them, but a few of them get on my nerves. Always having to say something, you know.’
‘I can take it,’ Daisy said.
‘I know. I’ve seen you in action.’
They both laughed and then walked on in silence, eating their chips until they reached Daisy’s back gate.
Chris opened it and took her hand again. ‘Thanks for a lovely evening, Daisy.’ He wanted to kiss her goodnight, but he kept to his promise. Just friends. He coughed and said, ‘I’m on duty all the rest of this week so I won’t be seeing you for a while.’
‘They’re not sending you away are they?’
‘Not just yet. Don’t worry, I’ll let you know.’ He let go of her hand reluctantly and strode away. On the walk back to barracks, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. In a way he hoped he would be posted abroad. He would be spared the agony of seeing her and knowing she loved someone else. He cheered up a little as he remembered her dismay at the thought he might be sent away. Perhaps she felt something for him after all. He could only hope.
Chapter Sixteen
Over the next few weeks there were several air raids but the town itself was spared, although there were attacks on the Dockyard and the Eastchurch airfield. The anti aircraft guns along the seafront and on the garrison defences were now manned by the Home Guard but the few soldiers left in the garrison were kept busy supplying ammunition and relaying orders. Daisy had seen nothing of Chris since their evening at the cinema and she missed him – more than she should, she knew. Her only thoughts should be of Bob and her prayers for his safety uppermost in her mind. But she found herself looking up every time the door to the NAAFI opened, swallowing the little niggle of disappointment when Chris did not appear.
She had been tempted to ask one of the lads about him, but after that encounter in the fish shop queue, she did not want to lay herself open to suggestive remarks about her relationship with him. And there was also the fear that he, like many of the battalion, had been posted abroad.
Surely he would come in to say goodbye though, even if he had been deliberately avoiding her lately.
She still enjoyed her work in the NAAFI and her time off with Lily and June. Going dancing or to the pictures with them helped to take her mind off worrying about Bob and confusion about her feelings for Chris.
To add to her worries, she was becoming more concerned about Lily, who hadn’t seemed to recover from her bought of summer flu – if that’s what it was. Several times she had turned down invitations to go out with her and June, saying she had to stay in to look after her younger brother and sisters. She hardly mentioned Roland these days and Daisy wondered if she had discovered he was seeing other girls. Perhaps she was just worried about him - the bombing raids on the Eastchurch airfield had increased and many aircraft had been lost.
Daisy determined to have another chat with her to try and find out what was really on her mind. Sometimes it helped to talk. What was it they said? ‘A trouble shared was a trouble halved’
June had told her to leave well alone. ‘Don’t interfere. If she wants to stay home, let her.’
Daisy couldn’t do that. She wanted to help her friend if she could. Lily wasn’t at work again today but she would tackle her tomorrow.
Meanwhile there were customers to serve and tables to clear. She looked up as the door opened and forced a welcoming smile to her lips. No Chris though.
June started serving, leaving Daisy to clear the tables and take the used crockery through to the kitchen. Another girl had joined the NAAFI recently. Mavis was very quiet, hardly spoke and just got on with washing the dirty crockery and pans without complaint. Daisy tried to draw her out of her shell but she resisted attempts at friendship, hurrying off home as soon as her shift ended.
Daisy determined to try again. ‘Morning, Mavis,’ she said cheerfully, plonking the tray of crockery onto the draining board. ‘Need a hand?’
The girl plunged her hands into the soapy water and shook her head. ‘I can manage,’ she muttered.
Daisy shrugged and went back to her counter. ‘Don’t know what’s wrong with that girl,’ she said to June.
‘Just ignore her,’ June replied.
‘I can’t. She looks so unhappy.’
‘You can’t solve everyone’s troubles,’ June told her.
‘I suppose you’re right.’
Several sailors came in just then and they were kept busy for another hour. When a lull came, they were able to take a break and took their tea to a quiet corner. It was a relief to sit down and rest their aching feet. Daisy slipped her shoes off under the table and wriggled her toes, keeping an eye out for Mrs Green. She wasn’t in the mood for a telling off.
‘Lily hasn’t mentioned Roland lately, has she? Do you think they’ve fallen out?’ she asked.
‘I hope so,’ June said. ‘I never did like him. Too fond of the ladies.’
Daisy decided not to mention her own suspicions, as well as her sister’s involvement with the handsome RAF officer. ‘She hasn’t said anything but I think he might have been posted. Perhaps that’s why she’s been looking so miserable.’
‘Well, we’ve all got someone to worry about, haven’t we? She’s not the only one but we don’t go on about it.’
Daisy knew that June had a cousin in the merchant navy and, although they weren’t close, she must be concerned about him, especially as so many ships were being sunk lately.
‘You’re right,’ she said, touching June’s hand. ‘Still, I wish we could cheer her up, persuade her to come out with us next time.’
June shrugged her hand away. ‘You can try.’ She finished her tea and stood to take her cup back.
Daisy put her shoes on and followed, deep in thought. She couldn’t help worrying about Lily but June was right. Didn’t she have enough problems of her own to keep her awake at night?
Another trip to the stores brought another worry to mind. She had almost forgotten her suspicion that Mr Browning was involved in something wrong. Were some of the stores ‘going walkabout’ or was it just a case of ‘cooking the books’? Daisy was now convinced that the manager of the NAAFI was stealing from the stores. Several times she had noticed things missing when she went to the stores and she was sure they hadn’t been used in the canteen. But everything seemed to be signed for and that day when she saw boxes being loaded up, it seemed plausible that they were destined for the NAAFI at Eastchurch.
She had told herself she was being unduly suspicious until today, when Mrs Green sent her over to fetch a carton of cigarettes and some tea, which was stored in large tins, not the usual packets she was used to from the grocers.
She lifted a tin down, staggering backwards as the tin was much lighter than she anticipated. She set it down on a bench and reached for another. This one seemed heavier. Then she lifted down a couple more tins which seemed the right weight. She looked carefully at the labels with their Ministry of Food seal. They didn’t look as if they had been tampered with and she shrugged. Perhaps she w
as being unduly worried.
She put the lighter tin back on the shelf with the others, keeping one back. She turned to pick it up, almost dropping it as a voice behind her said, ‘Don’t forget to sign for it.’
‘Oh, Mr Browning. You made me jump,’ she gasped.
‘What were you doing?’ he asked, nodding towards the shelf of tea supplies.
‘Just checking how many tins were left,’ she said.
‘Not your job, miss. Now, off with you.’
‘I need cigarettes too.’
‘Ciggies for the boy friend is it?’
‘No, Mr Browning. Mrs Green sent me. We’re running short and...’
He grinned and patted her arm. ‘Just joking, girl,’ he interrupted. ‘I hope you’ve signed for everything.’
‘Of course I have.’
He picked up the clipboard and checked the signatures, then opened the door and stood by it as she left.
Daisy ignored him and walked quickly away. How dare he? A thought struck her. Had his so-called joking and bluster been a cover for his own dealings? What was he doing there anyway?
She shrugged. She had enough to worry about, not least a telling off from the supervisor.
When she got back, Mrs Green was waiting by the door. ‘Took you long enough,’ she said, grabbing the box from her. ‘We’ve got customers waiting, you know. And we’re short-staffed with Lily away.’
‘Sorry, Mrs Green.’ She hurried behind the counter, leaving the supervisor to unpack the cigarettes and put them on the shelves.
She was kept busy for the next couple of hours. But as she poured tea and dispensed sandwiches, she couldn’t stop thinking about that tin, which she estimated must have been only half full.
She was sure someone was stealing and if it wasn’t Mr Browning, then who? Was it only her dislike of the man that made her suspect him?
She didn’t like Harold Tompkins either, but she didn’t think he had the brains to cover up the thefts. Then she remembered the time he had given her half a large fruit cake, which he’d told her was left over and likely to go stale if not used. And surely there was no harm in using stuff that might be thrown away.
No, it wasn’t Harold. And it surely couldn’t be the chef or Mrs Green, could it?
Daisy was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she filled the cup she was holding to overflowing, the hot tea splashing onto her hand.
As she jumped back, dropping the cup which smashed on the tiled floor, Mrs Green shouted across the room. ‘What’s wrong with you today, Daisy? Wake up – and get that mess cleared up.’
‘Sorry Mrs Green,’ Daisy muttered, bending to pick up the broken crockery.
‘I’ve a good mind to take that out of your wages,’ the supervisor said.
June fetched a cloth and began to wipe up the spilled tea. ‘Please don’t do that, Mrs Green. Daisy’s a bit on edge after last night’s raid,’ she said.
‘We’re all on edge, miss.’ The supervisor went back to manning the till and June whispered, ‘Daydreaming about that Lofty, were you?’
‘Don’t be silly. Just tired, that’s all.’ She ignored June’s knowing smile and carried the broken crockery out to the kitchen.
If only she could confide in someone.
As she served the queue of soldiers and sailors, trying to keep a smile on her face as she responded to their usual banter, the worry about Lily re-surfaced. She hoped it was just a touch of summer flu and that her friend would be back at work the next day, laughing and joking as she usually did.
***
When Daisy got home that evening, her mother was sitting at the sewing machine mending a long tear in the blackout curtain which usually hung at the kitchen window.
‘Hello, love, just got to finish this before I get the tea on,’ she said.
‘I’ll do it, Mum. What happened to the curtain?’
‘Jimmy of course. Trying to help, he said. Pulled too hard and this material’s so flimsy.’ Dora sighed. ‘It’s only an old sheet I dyed black. They didn’t have enough proper blackout stuff to do all the windows.’
‘Well, it gets dark so late now. If we don’t put the light on in here, we should be all right.’
‘No. I must do it. That Alf Stokes will be knocking on the door if we show a chink of light.’
‘Trust him to get made an ARP warden, nosy old devil. He was always finding something to tell us kids off for even before the war.’
Dora laughed. ‘He’s in his element now, strutting around, banging on people’s doors.’ She finished sewing and cut the cotton. ‘There, that’ll do.’
‘I don’t know why we bother with the blackout at the moment. That moon was so bright last night, you don’t need a torch.’
‘Bomber’s moon they call it.’ Dora sighed. ‘They’ll be over again tonight.’
Daisy shivered. ‘It’s the aerodrome they’re after. That Polish chap I met told me they’re not even operational. A lot of the planes there are being repaired. Still, I suppose if they smash them on the ground at least our pilots are spared.’
Dora looked up sharply. ‘What are you doing talking to a Pole? Your dad won’t like that.’
‘Oh, Mum. He was at the dance I went to, a friend of Roland, Sylvia’s boy friend. We were just talking.’
‘I know, love. Don’t mind me. I know you wouldn’t get involved with anyone else, but with Bob...’ Her voice trailed away and she busied herself putting the sewing machine away and putting a cloth on the table.
Daisy didn’t reply. Her mother’s words had hit home. When Chris called for her the other evening she had tried to give the impression she was going with a group of friends. However hard she tried to deny it, she was involved with someone else.
She went into the scullery and picked up a saucepan. ‘What’s for tea, Mum?’ she called through.
‘Dad’s at the hall tonight, eating up there, so it’s just you and me. Beans on toast all right?’
‘Fine. I had sausage and mash at the canteen. What about Jimmy?’
‘He’s had his. Dashed off out as soon as he’d eaten.’
‘Not more mischief, I hope.’
‘You won’t believe this.’ Dora opened the tin of beans and poured them into a pan. ‘He’s joined the Scouts. One of his mates talked him into it and he’s been helping with collecting salvage and all sorts of jobs.’
‘I’m pleased he’s found something useful to do.’ Daisy stirred the beans to stop them sticking while her mother cut bread and sat to toast it in front of the kitchen range.
As they ate, Dora chatted about her day at the WVS hall but Daisy scarcely listened. She had too much on her mind. Her mother didn’t seem to notice and she was tempted to stem the flow of talk and confide in her. Not about her feelings for Chris of course. But there was the problem of the missing stores, not to mention her concern for Lily.
Before she could say anything however, the wail of the air raid siren interrupted.
Dora sprung from the table. ‘Come on, Daisy, leave the dishes,’ she urged, going into her well-practiced routine, picking up her handbag with its precious identity cards and ration books, and her knitting, grabbing a torch off the shelf before hustling Daisy outside.
Their street was one of the few with back gardens and Stan had erected their Anderson shelter at the start of the war. Until recently it was little used but with the start of the raids Dora had set about making it more comfortable with cushions and blankets and a shelf for books.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the drone of aircraft overhead and the thump of the guns.
Daisy nervously bit her nails, watching Dora’s knitting needles flying and wishing she had something to occupy her.
‘Sounds bad,’ Dora said, hunching her shoulders.
Daisy moved closer and put her arm around her mother’s shoulders as much for her own comfort as for Dora’s. How long could this go on, she wondered. But she knew, from the wireless news and what her father picked up at the Hom
e Guard meeting hall, that this war was likely to go on for a long time if they were to stop Hitler’s army invading.
***
The next day they discovered just how bad the raid had been. Two houses were badly hit at the end of their road although, fortunately, the occupants got to the shelter in time. But that wasn’t all.
Stan came home just as Daisy was getting ready for work, his eyes red-rimmed with weariness, his hair streaked grey with dust. Dora threw her arms round him. ‘Thank God, you’re safe. I was so worried.’
‘No need to worry about me, love,’ he said, pushing her away. ‘It’s those poor buggers up at Eastchurch. I’ve never seen anything like it. Much worse than the last raid. They hit the fuel dump – bastards.’ He ran a hand through his hair.
Dora didn’t reprove him for swearing this time. Daisy, bag in hand ready to leave for work, hovered by the door. She couldn’t ask but Stan said, ‘So many injured, dead too.’
Daisy gasped – Roland, Stefan, all those young men who had been at the dance. She couldn’t do anything about it though: like everyone else she just had to carry on.
She kissed her father’s cheek and went out of the door, brushing away a tear as she hurried up the High Street towards the Garrison.
***
Two days later there was another raid, this time in daylight. There was so much damage to buildings and aircraft that the base was unserviceable. But the squadron continued their reconnaissance duties. After helping with the clear up, Stan and his Home Guard battalion went back to normal duties in the town.
When he got home each evening though, he was able to tell his family the news he gathered from the Army despatch rider who carried messages after communications were damaged in the raids.
Daisy hesitated to ask for details – after all, Dad wouldn’t know his name. But she was sure it must have been Chris, so to her delight, he must still be here. Perhaps he was too useful to be posted abroad.
Daisy's War Page 14
