The Waiting Hours

by Ellie Dean

  The cottage hospital was a pretty, sprawling bungalow set amid a large, well-tended garden which sloped gently down towards a lake shaded by willows where swans glided regally amongst the bustling moorhens and ducks. Carol drove through the open gate and along the curving gravel driveway to park next to Felix’s jeep.

  She left Nipper in the car and walked out of the bright sunlight into the sudden gloom of the reception hall. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but she soon found her way to Betty’s room, which was at the back of the building and afforded a spectacular view of the lake.

  Betty was dressed and sitting in a wheelchair, her suitcase on the floor beside her, while Sergeant Cornwallis fidgeted on the window seat. He leapt to his feet as Carol entered. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Porter, but I can’t stay long. There’s a flap on at HQ, and I have to get back there.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you can tell us what it’s all about?’ asked Carol, having kissed a smiling Betty and noted how well she was looking despite the sling and plaster casts.

  ‘Sorry. I have no idea what’s going on as yet. But General Addington sends his apologies and will visit you both as soon as he can.’

  Carol opened her handbag and pulled out the envelope. ‘I’ve been meaning to give him this for weeks,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Could you pass it on to him for me?’

  Herbert nodded and Carol reluctantly handed it over. ‘You will take great care of it, won’t you? Only it’s the only photograph I have, and it’s very precious.’

  He tucked it firmly into an inside tunic pocket, promising to guard it with his life, then surreptitiously glanced at his watch.

  ‘If there’s a flap then it must be important, so we’d better not make you late, Sergeant,’ Betty said in her best brisk school teacher’s tone. ‘Come on, Carol. I’ve said all my goodbyes and signed their papers – now I want to get out of this stifling room and breathe fresh air.’

  Herbert took charge of the wheelchair while Carol carried the case. As they emerged into the crisp air and bright sunshine, Betty closed her eyes and breathed deeply. ‘What absolute bliss this is after being cooped up for most of the day,’ she murmured.

  They reached the car and Carol opened the door. Nipper promptly tumbled out to explore the undergrowth beneath the nearby hedgerow. ‘I’ll round him up in a minute,’ she muttered. ‘Let’s get you in and settled first.’

  ‘I’m utterly useless, I’m afraid,’ Betty fretted. ‘What with one leg and arm in plaster and a calliper on what passes as my good one, I can’t hop, even with this blessed walking stick.’

  Herbert reached down and gently plucked her from the wheelchair to settle her into the passenger seat.

  Betty giggled and adjusted her sling. ‘Well, there are some compensations for being crippled after all.’ She grinned up at Herbert. ‘You’d be my knight in shining armour if I didn’t think it might put Brendon’s nose out of joint. Thank you, Sergeant, you’re very kind.’

  She and Carol exchanged amused glances as Herbert went scarlet, but managed to keep straight faces while he handed Betty her walking stick, folded up the chair and tried to squeeze it into the boot.

  It stuck out too far whichever way he tried and, unable to fasten the boot, he fetched a length of rope from the jeep and lashed it around the handle and through the rear bumper. He gave the rope a good tug to check it would hold.

  ‘That should do it,’ he said, ‘but it might be wise to steer clear of any big bumps in the road.’ He frowned. ‘Perhaps it would be better if I took the wheelchair in the jeep,’ he murmured, glancing again at his watch.

  ‘It’ll be fine where it is,’ Carol replied. ‘Thank you for your help, Herbert, now you must get on. Please tell the general that we’ll see him once the flap is over.’

  He saluted, then climbed swiftly into the jeep and drove away, the tyres sending up spatters of gravel to leave deep ruts in the once pristine driveway.

  ‘Well done on finally remembering that photograph,’ said Betty. ‘Let’s hope Felix does recognise him and can tell you more about him.’

  ‘It’s a faint hope, Betty. I’m not expecting anything from it.’ Carol went off to round up Nipper.

  ‘Perhaps they’re bringing things to a head down in the bay,’ Betty suggested once Carol had returned to the car. ‘It’s been fairly obvious that each rehearsal was leading to something big, which could explain why neither Felix nor Brendon could come today.’

  ‘If it is, we’ll soon know about it,’ said Carol, steering the car through the gateway and heading back towards Beeson. ‘There’ll be enough guns and booms going off to alert everyone from Dorset to Land’s End. I’m just amazed Jerry hasn’t yet realised what’s going on down here.’

  ‘They’re probably too busy dodging our bombers to take any interest in what we’re up to,’ said Betty. ‘I just hope that if this is the final rehearsal, Brendon won’t immediately be sent back to London. I’ve got rather used to seeing him about the place.’

  ‘I’m sure that even if he is, he’ll stay in regular touch.’ Carol knew just how smitten Brendon was with Betty.

  ‘Do you really think so?’

  Carol smiled. ‘Oh, yes, I’m certain of it.’

  Betty’s homecoming had been greeted with great delight, and once the milking was over and they’d spent a long time chatting over their supper, Carol helped her friend prepare for bed.

  ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,’ Betty said once she was in her nightdress. ‘It’ll be easier all round once the district nurse comes in to do this sort of thing.’

  ‘I really don’t mind,’ Carol assured her as she plumped up the pillow beneath her plastered leg and eased a woolly sock over her exposed toes. ‘Now, are you sure you’ve got everything?’

  Betty laughed. ‘There’s a glass of water, a lamp, my book and Millicent’s little bell to ring if I need anything in the night – though I doubt I’ll have the nerve to disturb her. She’s still quite fierce, isn’t she?’

  ‘She wants us to think she is, but I suspect that under that belligerent exterior beats a warm heart.’ Carol squeezed her hand. ‘Sleep well, Betty. It’s lovely to have you back.’

  Betty’s grasp on Carol’s hand tightened. ‘I know you’ve all avoided talking about Ken,’ she said quietly, ‘but I’d like to hear what happened to him.’

  Carol hesitated, but at Betty’s encouraging nod, she could no longer hold back. ‘He was found guilty of serious assault and sentenced to five years’ hard labour. Normally, he would have gone to prison, but as he’s of enlistment age and perfectly fit to serve his country instead of hiding behind his reserved occupation as a farmer, he’s been put into the army, where he’ll probably stay until the war’s over.’

  ‘Thank you, Carol. I realise you all kept quiet because you thought it might upset me, but I needed to know.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘There’s been no word from his family, but I suppose they blame me for what happened.’

  ‘It was not your fault,’ said Carol firmly.

  Betty smiled. ‘I know. Goodnight, Carol. See you in the morning.’

  It was now past ten o’clock and the kitchen was deserted, so Carol quietly shut the front door behind her and hurried across the cobbles to the barn.

  ‘She’s all tucked up and cosy,’ she said to the other girls who were still preparing for bed. ‘It’s just a shame Brendon couldn’t call in, but I suppose if there’s a flap on we won’t see much of any of them for a while.’

  ‘I wonder what it is,’ said Maisie, who was plaiting her long hair.

  ‘Probably something and nothing as usual,’ replied Ida, climbing into bed with a hot water bottle and a copy of the Picture Post. ‘I wish I’d been there to see Herbert this afternoon. I’d’ve got him to tell me what’s what, and that’s a fact.’

  ‘He said he didn’t know anything,’ said Carol, ‘and I believed him, so no amount of flirting could have made you any the wiser.’

  The knock on the barn door made them all jump and N
ipper immediately rushed towards it, barking furiously.

  ‘Who the bloody hell’s that?’ hissed Pru, clutching the bedclothes to her chin.

  ‘How the bleeding ’eck should I know?’ snapped Ida, throwing back the bedclothes and stomping barefoot to the door as Carol snatched up Nipper. ‘Who’s there and what d’yer want?’ she shouted.

  ‘It’s me – Herbert.’

  Ida flung the door open and dragged him inside. ‘You gave us a right fright. What you doin’ ’ere?’

  ‘I can’t tell you, but these might help you find out,’ he replied, opening a kitbag and tipping out five pairs of army-issue binoculars onto the couch. ‘Be on the top field before two the day after tomorrow. I can’t guarantee anything, but you should see enough to make your day.’

  ‘See what?’ demanded Carol.

  ‘It’s the big final rehearsal, ain’t it?’ breathed Ida, her eyes bright with excitement.

  Herbert grinned as he shook his head. ‘It’s something much bigger than that.’ He put his arm round her waist and drew her against him. ‘But you’ve got to keep that pretty trap shut, Ida, or I’ll be stripped of my rank and thrown in the glasshouse.’

  ‘Blimey,’ she breathed. ‘It must be the King.’

  ‘The King?’ the others chorused.

  ‘Do I have your promise to keep this to yourselves?’ he asked earnestly. ‘I’ve broken all the rules by coming here with those, and the general will have my guts for garters if he finds out.’

  ‘We solemnly swear not to tell a soul,’ said Carol, looking at each girl in turn for their agreement. ‘But can’t you give us just a tiny clue as to what we’ll see?’

  ‘Sorry. It’s top secret.’ He gave Ida a peck on the cheek. ‘See you at the pub tomorrow night, all being well.’

  Carol and the three girls stood in silence as his hurrying footsteps faded. Then they looked at each other and all began to speak at once, speculating on what they might see through those binoculars, and how on earth they could find a way of getting Betty up to that field without raising Jack and Millicent’s suspicions. It was a long time before any of them got to sleep.

  36

  On the Way to Devon

  Frank had finally managed to secure a seat on the packed troop train when a mass of servicemen alighted at Southampton. As the train panted its way along the tracks in the darkness, he closed his eyes and tried to snatch some sleep. The windows had been boarded over because of the blackout, so there was nothing to see, and the single light bulb dangling from the carriage ceiling was so weak it was impossible to read the newspaper his father had thrust at him just before his train pulled out of the station.

  He’d left Cliffehaven at six this morning and now it was almost midnight, and he was tired and hungry, having snatched only a cup of tea and a sandwich from the WVS wagon at the last stop, which he’d guessed by the number of sailors getting off was Southampton. But sleep wouldn’t come, for the memory of Pauline’s sterling effort to hold back her tears, smile and wish him well haunted him still.

  Her eyes and ashen face had spoken of her inner struggle to put on such a show, and he’d been riddled with guilt – to the point where he’d almost jumped off the train before it had left Cliffehaven. Yet he’d come to his senses. He was no deserter, and if he turned his back on his duty, he’d never again be able to hold his head high. Pauline would be all right. She had Peggy and Da to look after her for the short time he’d be away, and he’d make sure he sent her lots of letters to keep her reassured that he was alive and well.

  As the train rattled and chuffed through the night, the rhythm of the wheels and the gentle roll of the carriage finally soothed his troubled spirits. His travel warrant said he was heading for Salcombe, and as he’d had no idea where that was he’d gone to the library to consult an atlas. Learning it was in Devon, he’d felt a stab of hope that Da was right about Brendon being down there, and that there might be a chance to see him.

  Frank smiled inwardly at the naïve hope, for Devon looked like a big county and it was against the odds that they should be anywhere near each other. But hope stayed with him as sleep finally claimed him.

  It was barely dawn when the train pulled into Salcombe station. Frank felt stiff and sluggish as he adjusted his Home Guard uniform jacket, pulled his kitbag from the overhead rack and slung it over his shoulder. His mouth tasted foul, and his stomach felt as if it was sticking to his backbone he was so hungry.

  He joined the crush of servicemen that poured onto the platform, and looked around for the exit. His orders were to go outside where there would be a jeep waiting to take him to his billet and then on to the dockside workshops. Hitching the kitbag more firmly over his shoulder, he weaved through the milling crowd and finally found his way outside, where he was met by the very welcome sight of another WVS wagon, and the alluring aroma of frying onions.

  A quick glance round at the vast numbers of servicemen still pouring out of the station, and the complaining gurgle of his stomach made up his mind. It wouldn’t take long to get something to eat and drink.

  The cheerful woman behind the counter was just handing him a sausage and onion sandwich and cup of tea when someone tapped him on the shoulder, making him jump.

  ‘Gotcha!’

  He whirled round, the hot tea scalding his hand. ‘Brendon? Brendon, you young divil,’ he roared in delight, trying to embrace him and not drop his breakfast. ‘To be sure you caught me good and proper, but me stomach thinks me throat’s been cut, and I didn’t think it’d matter if I was a bit late.’

  ‘Then it’s a good thing it’s me picking you up and not Sergeant Major Bright,’ said Brendon. ‘He’s a stickler for punctuality.’

  ‘But how did you know I was coming?’ Frank asked through a mouthful of sandwich.

  ‘I was in the workshop a couple of days ago checking over a minor repair to an LST, and the engineer in charge mentioned that there was another volunteer expected today by the name of Frank Reilly. He asked if he was a relation, and as I was curious to find out if it was you, I asked Bright if I could come in his stead.’

  ‘Well, now you know,’ said Frank, ‘and as your grandad would say, to be sure you’re a grand sight, so you are.’ He grinned and hastily finished his breakfast, then wiped his fingers clean on his handkerchief and returned the cup to the wagon. ‘Shall we make tracks? I don’t want to be too late on my first day.’

  ‘There’s not much danger of that,’ said Brendon as they headed for the American jeep parked at the kerb. ‘You’re not due to start until tomorrow, and I’ve somewhere very special to take you before then.’

  ‘Oh, aye? Where’s that? Some nice pub you’ve found, is it?’ Frank slung his kitbag into the back of the jeep and settled into the passenger seat.

  ‘You’ll find out soon enough,’ Brendon replied, switching on the engine. He turned to look at his father with a broad grin. ‘What the hell are you doing here, Dad? Aren’t you a bit long in the tooth for all this?’

  ‘That’s enough cheek from you,’ he retorted, giving his son a light punch on the arm. ‘There might be snow on the roof, my lad, but there’s fire in me belly still – and it would be a waste of a lifetime’s experience not to use the skills I have.’

  ‘What did Mum make of it?’

  ‘She didn’t like it, but she understands why I’m here.’ He regarded his son evenly. ‘It wouldn’t hurt to write to her more often,’ he said. ‘You know how she gets ideas in her head.’

  Brendon nodded and drove out of the station forecourt.

  Slapton

  Dolly had dressed very carefully for the long, tedious journey in a lightweight lavender tweed skirt and jacket, silk blouse and the most robust shoes she possessed, which were a rather lovely pair of low-heeled black pumps. She’d chosen tweed because it didn’t crease, and after a great deal of trying on and agonising over her collection of hats, had picked out the black one with the netting she could pull down almost to her nose.

  It had st
arted out as an uncomfortable journey, for her five companions were stuffy old boffins from Bletchley, who took no notice of her as they discussed weighty scientific matters in a language she barely understood. But things had improved when they’d stopped for lunch, and she’d asked the SOE driver, Susan Matthews, if she’d mind awfully if she sat up front with her.

  She’d proved to be a lovely chatty girl, and after the overnight stop at a rather pleasant hotel, they continued to gossip until they drew nearer to the vast American camps. Dolly nervously checked her appearance in her compact mirror then carefully drew the delicate veil over her eyes. Her hands weren’t as steady as she’d have liked, and her stomach was churning at the thought that within minutes she’d have to meet Felix, and the charade would begin.

  Susan drove the car towards the barrier where armed GIs checked their identification papers and then saluted as they passed through. ‘I say,’ she murmured, ‘that’s quite a welcoming party.’

  Dolly felt like a rabbit caught in Ron’s lamplight as she saw Felix standing with other officers in a long line. A military band was playing, flags were fluttering in the stiff breeze, and the troops were standing ramrod stiff as the car drew to a dignified halt and they saluted. She pulled her astrakhan coat over her shoulders and gripped her handbag as Susan opened the door for the boffins and an American naval commander helped her out.

  ‘Delighted to meet you, Mrs Cardew,’ he said. ‘I’m Commander Moon. May I introduce you and your colleagues to the officers of Operation Tiger?’

  Dolly nodded, unable to reply as Felix stared at her in stony surprise, and watched her shake hands as she went down the line. She finally reached him and didn’t dare meet his eye as the commander introduced them. ‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, General Addington,’ she managed.

  ‘It’s a pleasure, ma’am,’ he replied solemnly.

  Their hands touched fleetingly and moments later she was being led away towards a large marquee which had been decorated with Allied flags and furnished with plush chairs, a bar and a table groaning with food. She took a glass of white wine from a steward, but didn’t dare drink it, for Felix was advancing on her.