Welcome Home

by Margaret Dickinson

  Beth laughed, ‘I don’t understand what on earth you’re talking about.’

  Alan chuckled. ‘All will be revealed in due course, but first, I want you to join the FANYs. I need to get you into uniform. That’s the first step.’

  ‘What on earth are they?’ Beth asked.

  ‘First Aid Nursing Yeomanry.’

  ‘But I don’t know the first thing about nursing and I don’t think I’d be a very good one anyway.’

  ‘You’ve been an excellent nursemaid to the children.’

  ‘That’s a bit different. That was looking after them, playing with them and getting them to bed on time. But at the first sign of a sniffle, I was calling the doctor.’

  ‘Quite right too, but the FANYs would only be a cover. You wouldn’t actually be doing any nursing.’

  ‘A cover for what exactly?’ Beth was suddenly suspicious.

  ‘Ah, now I can’t tell you that yet. All in good time,’ he added as he drew the car to a stop in the place where he parked. ‘Not a word to a soul though. Oh, and by the way, can you drive?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I can,’ Beth said, as mystified as ever, but Alan would reveal no more.

  Three days after his conversation with Beth, Alan Forster, along with other personnel, moved into premises in Baker Street. And Beth went with him.

  It was all very hush-hush. There were several offices in the building and plenty of people walking about with files under their arms and looking very serious, but no one said very much. No one, not even Alan, told her exactly what was happening. She was interviewed and accepted as a recruit into the FANYs and began to wear a khaki uniform comprising a tunic, a skirt and a cap. At once, it seemed to give her some kind of status. People talked to her more, included her in their conversations, and yet still she didn’t really understand what it was all about.

  ‘I want you to talk to some young men who are being trained for special duties,’ Alan said one day. ‘I need you to test their French.’

  Beth opened her mouth to say, ‘But you speak better French than me,’ but something stopped her and then she was glad that she’d remained silent for at Alan’s next words she began to glean a little of what lay behind all this cloak-and-dagger stuff. He leaned towards her over his desk and spoke in a low voice, even though they were quite alone in his office. ‘They are being trained to be agents. If they pass muster, they’ll eventually be dropped into France behind enemy lines to create circuits and to help local resistance groups and to sabotage the enemy. They’ll be receiving all sorts of physical training and learning other skills, but they need to be fluent in the language – as you can guess – and not make mistakes in any situation. I need you to mix with them socially and possibly carry out a few of the spot tests. Do you think you can do that?’

  Beth’s eyes shone. ‘Of course.’

  She knew that France was now divided into two parts. The southern part was still under the rule of Vichy France led by Marshal Pétain, but the northeastern part was occupied by the Germans.

  ‘Our organization,’ Alan went on, ‘has been personally authorized by the Prime Minister and though it meets with disapproval in some quarters, there’s not much they can do about it in the circumstances. We’re known as the Special Operations Executive.’

  Beth chuckled, catching on at once. Who would dare to question Mr Churchill’s decision?

  They talked for another half an hour whilst Alan gave her detailed instructions as to what he wanted her to do. As she left his office, she paused with her hand on the door knob. Before opening it, she turned briefly and smiled at him. ‘If you ever decide to use women in the field, let me know, won’t you?’

  Without waiting for his reply, she left the office, closing the door quietly behind her. She did not see his satisfied smile; her words were exactly what he had wanted to hear.

  ‘Oh yes, Beth,’ he murmured to the empty room. ‘You’ll be the first to know, believe me.’

  ‘Is she still looking after the children, then?’

  ‘I don’t know, Lil.’ Edie was holding Beth’s most recent letter. ‘She doesn’t really say what she’s doing. Except that she’s joined the FANYs, so I don’t suppose she can still be with the family. Anyway,’ Edie said more briskly, tucking the letter behind the bracket clock on the mantelpiece for Archie to see when he came home, ‘no good wishing for the moon. It’ll be Christmas soon and I’m late getting me puddings done this year.’

  ‘It’ll be worse than last year,’ Lil mourned, ‘with all the shortages.’

  ‘We’ll make a go of it somehow,’ Edie said, attempting cheerfulness, but inside her heart was breaking. It would be the second Christmas since the war had started, but their first since Laurence had been killed and now she wouldn’t have Reggie or Irene and the baby here either. And she doubted that Frank or Beth would get home.

  It was going to be a very quiet Christmas.

  ‘It’s certainly going to be very different this year, Lil,’ Edie went on, trying to concentrate her mind on eking out their meagre rations. ‘We didn’t really feel the pinch last year, but it’s going to hit hard this time.’

  Edie said nothing about the people who would be missing around the table this year. Her thoughts were with them all, especially Laurence, who was gone for ever.

  As if sensing her friend’s feelings, Lil said gently, ‘Will Beth get home, d’you think? And what about Reggie?’

  ‘I don’t know. Have you heard what Irene intends to do?’

  Lil bit her lip. ‘She’s not coming, but she said the Schofields have asked us all to go out there, if we want to.’

  ‘It’d be nice, but it’s hardly fair on the poor woman for the four of us to descend on her.’

  Lil shrugged. ‘I don’t think she’d mind. Irene says she’s used to catering for a lot of folk. They’ve got land army girls staying, but they might be going home for Christmas so it wouldn’t be many more than usual.’

  ‘Mm, I’ll ask Archie. How would we get there?’

  ‘I haven’t a clue,’ Lil replied comically, and then added more seriously, ‘probably by train. That’s how they went, isn’t it?’

  When Edie talked it over with Archie when he was next at home, he shook his head. ‘If Harry had got his car running I’d’ve asked to borrow it, but he’s got it laid up now. Besides, I don’t think we should unsettle young Reggie – he might start begging to come back with us. Irene’ll see that he has a good Christmas and the Schofields sound nice people.’

  Edie could understand his reasoning, but she wasn’t happy and Christmas this year looked like being a miserable affair.

  Through the year Edie and Lil had saved foodstuffs for the festivities – if indeed they could call them that, Edie thought morosely.

  ‘This isn’t classed as hoarding, is it, Edie?’ Lil asked worriedly. She was terrified of disobeying regulations and scanned each leaflet that appeared through her front door with a frown on her face.

  ‘No, Lil, it isn’t. We’re just saving up a bit to use on a special occasion. Hoarding’s when you buy and put away loads of stuff you’re probably never going to use. We’ll have to make mincemeat last minute this year, because of putting more apple in it. It’s likely to ferment if we do it too early.’

  ‘What about puddings?’

  ‘Ah, now, let me tell you.’ Edie opened a handwritten notebook she’d started compiling at the beginning of the war. It contained all sorts of snippets of useful information, amongst which were wartime recipe ideas. ‘It seems,’ she went on, ‘that we’d be lost without good old Doctor Carrot. There’s a recipe for carrot pudding, but I shall have to make it early on Christmas morning.’

  ‘Not beforehand, like you always do?’

  ‘It says it’s best done on the day because it’s what they call a “one-boil” pudding.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘If you make it on the day, it saves fuel by not having to heat it up again.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lil said uncertainly. ‘I’ve made a cake
already and it’s got carrot in it.’

  ‘It’ll be fine. We’ll soon all be able to see in the dark if we go on eating carrots at this rate.’

  The two women laughed together, not taken in by the propaganda that carrots helped the RAF’s night-flying. The myth had come about because of a temporary glut of carrots earlier in the year, which the authorities wanted used up, but not wasted. Not only did they want the public to eat the carrots but they wanted the enemy to believe that British pilots’ flying capabilities had been improved by eating them and not because of the use of secret new inventions, such as radar.

  Two days before Christmas, there was a knock at Edie’s front door. Only strangers or the telegram boy bearing bad news ever knocked at her front door and she was trembling as she hurried to answer it. She wished Lil was with her. She opened it to see a burly man standing there, dressed in plus-fours and a checked cap and carrying two dead cockerels in his hand.

  ‘I’m Joe Schofield,’ he said, stretching out a calloused hand. ‘Me and the missis’d be glad if you’d accept these.’

  Edie stared at him, dumbstruck for a moment before coming to her senses and realizing who he was. She invited him in. ‘Please come in, come in. The kettle’s on the hob.’ She led the way into the living room and then turned to face him again. ‘You – you didn’t bring Reggie to see us?’

  The man shook his head, realizing at once that the woman was disappointed. ‘We didn’t know what to do for the best, missis, to tell you the truth. We didn’t want to unsettle him, like.’

  ‘But he’s all right?’ Edie’s tone was anxious now.

  ‘Oh, he’s champion. Taken to the country life like one of my ducks to the pond.’

  Edie didn’t know whether to be pleased or sorry. Pleased because her little boy was happy, yet she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment that he wasn’t the tiniest bit homesick.

  ‘Of course, he’s missing his family,’ Joe added hastily, ‘but it helps him having Irene and the babby there too.’

  ‘Are they all right?’

  ‘Champion.’ It seemed to be one of Joe Schofield’s favourite words. ‘Babby’s growing into a fine little chap. You must come out and see them. You and Irene’s mother, when the better weather comes.’

  ‘We’ll try. Now, sit down and have a cuppa. And thank you so much for the cockerels. We’ll have them for Christmas dinner.’

  ‘I’m a bit late bringing them but I couldn’t get into Grimsby afore today. Mebbe you’ve already got your dinner organized.’

  Edie pulled a face. ‘Only if you can call a cheap cut of meat, which has been pot roasted to try to make it tender, a Christmas dinner. No, Mr Schofield, these will be splendid. We’ll have a real feast. Thank you.’

  As soon as he’d supped his tea, Joe got up. ‘I must be going.’

  ‘Oh, can’t you stay and see Lil – Irene’s mam? She’s gone into town to do a bit of queuing.’ She laughed wryly. ‘But she should be back soon.’

  ‘If you don’t mind, missis, I’ll be on me way. I don’t like strange towns in the dark and I don’t know Grimsby all that well. Give ’er my regards and tell her that Irene and the little one are fine.’

  ‘I will and thank you again for the birds. Lil will be sharing them with us on Christmas Day.’

  ‘That’s what Irene said.’ He picked up his cap from the table and nodded his farewell as Edie saw him out of the front door again, making sure that he left by the same way that he had entered her home and thus didn’t take the good luck out with him.

  ‘My goodness,’ Lil exclaimed when she saw the two birds lying on Edie’s draining board. ‘What a lovely gift.’

  ‘You know, Lil, I’m thinking we should share our good fortune,’ Edie said slowly. ‘Jessie and Harry will come as usual, but what about your Norma? She’ll be all on her own, won’t she?’

  Lil pulled a face. ‘She always is. I’ve asked her countless times in the past but she always says she prefers her own company. She can’t abide all the daft games folks play at Christmas.’

  ‘She could just come for her dinner and then go home again, if that’s what she wants. We wouldn’t be offended. Besides, I doubt we’ll be playing many games with only Shirley here.’

  Lil laughed. ‘Shirley won’t let Christmas pass without a game of charades and your Jessie’s always up for a bit of fun. But, yes, I’ll ask Norma. Thanks, Edie. Now, let’s get plucking.’

  The day after the arrival of the cockerels, Edie at last received a letter from Beth.

  I’m so sorry, she wrote, but I won’t be able to get home for Christmas. The children are home from school and are so excited that Madame really can’t cope with them.

  There was truth in this statement, but it was not the whole truth. Work in Baker Street did not stop just because it was Christmas, but Beth kindly insisted that Alan took two days to spend with his wife and children, of whom he saw little enough these days. Simone never complained. She knew his work was important and that the fight was to save her beloved France. At least he was with her occasionally, unlike the poor soldiers who were abroad and away from their families for months – even years – at a time.

  And, in truth, Beth was a little nervous of going home. It was relatively easy to keep silent about the secret work she was involved in whilst she was living amongst it, but she was so afraid that once home again in the bosom of her family, she would be asked awkward questions and her very evasiveness would arouse their suspicions. And the worst to resist would be her father’s gentle probing.

  But at least Edie had seven people round her table for Christmas dinner.

  ‘We’ve brought our week’s rations for you, Edie,’ Jessie greeted her as soon as they stepped into the house. ‘They’ve doubled the tea ration for Christmas week and upped the sugar too. Did you know?’

  Edie nodded. ‘Me ’n’ Lil have got ours, but thank you, Jessie. It’s most generous of you.’

  Jessie flapped away her thanks with a smile. ‘It’s the very least we can do. My word,’ she added, as she sniffed the air. ‘What a delicious aroma is emanating from your oven, Edie, and Harry’s managed to bring two bottles of wine – though you can’t obtain anything French now for love nor money. A white and a red. I hope that’s acceptable.’

  ‘It’s lovely, Jessie – thank you, Harry.’

  Rather sheepishly, Harry drew out a small bottle of whisky from his inside pocket. ‘And a little nip of the hard stuff for me and Archie. To keep out the cold, you know,’ he added with a broad wink.

  Edie laughed. ‘Of course, Harry. Would I think anything else? Come in, come in and make yourselves at home. Oh, and here’s Norma.’

  Lil’s sister had brought gifts of food too, though Edie noticed that there were no rationed goods amongst her offering. But what she had brought would have cost her far more than pre-war prices and Edie was grateful for the gesture.

  Whilst Edie and Lil, red-faced and anxious, scurried between the scullery, the living room and the front room carrying steaming dishes of vegetables, Archie played the magnanimous host.

  ‘Now, Norma, how about a little pre-dinner sherry for you?’

  ‘Oh, I shouldn’t really, Archie, but it is a special occasion.’ She held out her glass, which Archie generously filled to the brim, remembering the wedding reception. Norma, it seemed, was quite partial to a sherry or two.

  When he had poured a sherry for Jessie and a beer for himself and Harry, Archie sat down by the fire.

  ‘No use you sitting down, m’lad,’ Edie said. ‘You’ll have to come and carry these two birds to the table.’

  ‘No rest for the wicked, eh, Harry?’ Archie said good-naturedly as he heaved himself out of his chair again.

  Minutes later they were all seated around the table, admiring the two cockerels.

  ‘They’re plump birds,’ Norma said. ‘The ones in the butcher’s were skinny. Hardly any meat on them.’

  ‘It was a generous gift, no doubt,’ Harry said. ‘Did Mr
Schofield say how the family are? I expect they’ll be having a real farmhouse feast. Here’s to ’em, I say.’ And he raised his glass.

  The conversation continued around the table until, one by one, they fell silent as they began to eat. Then there was Edie’s pudding to follow and Lil’s mince pies, freshly baked that morning.

  ‘I couldn’t eat another thing,’ Jessie declared.

  ‘Nor me,’ Norma agreed, standing up a little unsteadily. ‘And now we must help with the washing-up.’

  ‘Oh, there’s no need—’ Edie began, but Norma and Jessie insisted.

  ‘And you, young lady,’ Jessie added, tapping Shirley on the shoulder, ‘can give us a hand. That’s if you want us all to play charades with you later.’ Everyone laughed but, although she pulled a face, Shirley got up and began to help clear the table.

  After everything had been cleared away, it was present-giving time. Most of the gifts this year were of a practical nature. Because Harry didn’t go to sea and was able to run an allotment as well as the strip of garden at the back of his house, he was given gardening tools and seeds. But it was Lil’s gift to Shirley that caused the girl to squeal with delight. ‘Oh, Aunty Lil, soap! Wherever did you find it? I hope you didn’t pay a fortune for it.’

  ‘Not – exactly.’ Lil bit her lip and then confessed. ‘It’s some I’d been saving from before the war.’

  ‘That’s kind of you, Aunty Lil. Are you sure?’

  ‘’Course I am, duck.’

  ‘And what are you glancing at the clock for, Archie Kelsey?’ Edie smiled. ‘As if I didn’t know.’

  Archie shifted uneasily in his chair and exchanged a glance with Harry. ‘Well, we – er – were just wondering—’

  ‘If you could go to the match,’ Edie finished his sentence for him with a chuckle as she turned to her sister. ‘What d’you reckon, Jessie? Shall we let ’em go?’

  Jessie waved her hand airily. ‘I don’t see why not, Edie. We can have a good old gossip if they’re out of the way. Who are they playing?’