Heartwarming and emotional story of one girl's courage in WW2

by Fenella J Miller

  She decided she would cycle to the airfield and see if there was anything she could do in the office as Gladys, the receptionist, didn’t work at the weekend.

  ‘Mum, Dad, Jack asked me to go down and help out. Don’t worry, I’ll be back in good time to get ready.’

  Today she wasn’t wearing her usual baggy dungarees but a floral, cotton dress that she didn’t hate as much as the other garments Mum had bought her.

  Cycling in a frock wasn’t as easy as dungarees but fortunately her knickers remained unseen and she met no one on her journey. She pedalled up the track, her skirt blowing wildly over her knees, eager to find something useful to do for the remainder of the day.

  *

  Jack was in the cockpit of the new plane checking the compass was still okay when a flash of something blue caught his eye. What he’d seen had been Ellie’s skirt flapping about – and that wasn’t all he could see even from this distance.

  Holy cow! That girl certainly had great pins and he could see all the way up to her panties. He bet she didn’t know she was showing everyone her underwear. He’d never seen her out of scruffy dungarees – she was more of a tomboy than a classy bird and until now he’d not thought her worth a second glance.

  He waited until she chucked her bike in its usual place against the wall of the office before letting her know where he was and what he’d seen. ‘You’d be better off in slacks if you’re going to peddle about the countryside, Ellie.’

  She spun round and stared at him.

  He began his leisurely descent from the de Havilland before continuing. ‘Pink’s a great colour on you.’

  For a moment she looked puzzled and glanced down at her dress. Then she turned scarlet as she realised he was referring to her knickers. Immediately he regretted his teasing – she wasn’t much more than a kid really – and he was old enough and ugly enough to know better.

  ‘Sorry, shouldn’t have said that. It was in poor taste. I hope you’ve come to man the telephone as I don’t think you’re dressed to do anything else safely.’

  ‘I have. I don’t want paying – I just want something to keep me occupied. The house is in pandemonium. Would you believe that Mum has had a marquee put up? It’s to be "an alfresco party". That’s all very well if it stays fine, but what about if it rains?’

  He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a brotherly hug. She flinched at his touch. He reckoned there wasn’t much hugging done in the Simpson house. ‘I’m looking forward to it. Don’t often get the chance to mix with the upper echelons of society. I hope they don’t think I’m your butler.’

  ‘Not a chance. According to my mum a butler’s usually grander than the people he works for. You’d only have to open your mouth and everyone would know.’ She grinned up at him, more relaxed now. ‘You’ve got a very strange accent – part East End, part posh and something else I don’t recognise.’

  ‘I’ve been living in the States for the past few years but grew up in the East End.’

  ‘Yes, that’s it. You sound a bit American sometimes. By the way, try and avoid using bad language tonight as it wouldn’t go down very well with the snobby lot who are coming.’

  He wasn’t sure if he was offended or amused by her comment. ‘I’ll do my best, ma’am, but we common boys can’t be relied on.’

  The strident sound of the telephone ringing interrupted their conversation. ‘I’ll answer that. You get on with whatever you are going to do and I’ll take care of the office for the rest of the day.’

  Her bossy attitude was irritating but he supposed having been more or less in charge of the place the past year it was hardly surprising.

  The day was made easier having Ellie in the office. Sid, like her, seemed to prefer to be at work than at home. She emerged from the office. The sound of a motorbike approaching meant his next pupil was here. This bloke had clocked up enough hours to be going solo but, according to the notes, steadfastly refused to do so.

  ‘I’m going now, Mum just rang and demanded that I come home. I’ll see you later.’ She collected her bike but then hesitated before getting on. She was worried about showing her knickers not only to him but also to the man who’d come for his lesson.

  He came to her rescue. ‘Right, Mr Jenkins, shall we get on with it?’ He gestured towards the cockpit and immediately his pupil began to climb in the front seat. Jack kept his back firmly towards the girl and heard her cycle away at high speed. He was tempted to look round, but he’d embarrassed her enough today already.

  After an uneventful and boring lesson, he signed the log book and was about to make an appointment for the next lesson. ‘You’ll be going solo next time; you are more than ready for it. The government wants as many civilians with their A licences as possible in case there’s a war.’

  ‘Good heavens, young man, there won’t be any hostilities. And even if I’m wrong, which I rarely am, I certainly won’t be joining the RAF so I can’t think it matters if I’m qualified or not. I’m not ready to go up on my own. I’m the best judge of my abilities and I expect you to respect my opinion.’

  ‘If you say so, sir. Just let us know when you want to go solo.’

  The man was the last person you’d expect to ride a motorbike, he was more a sedan sort of bloke. Sid had already gone. All Jack had to do was taxi the Swallow into the hangar and then he could go. Ellie had locked the office and left the keys on the box where he could see them.

  If he was going to arrive on time he’d better get a shifty on. His landlady had agreed he could have his weekly bath this evening and he wanted the water to be hot. He found the primitive arrangement of a galvanised tin bath beside the copper in the scullery a necessary evil. He was used to indoor plumbing, central heating and being able to have a shower whenever he wanted. It had been a bit of a shock adjusting to life in backward Britain.

  *

  ‘You look lovely, Ellie love, you should dress up more often. You don’t make the most of yourself,’ Dad said fondly.

  ‘You don’t look so bad yourself. But we’re both far too brown for evening dress. We’ll look like a couple of gypsies compared to the other guests.’ She attempted to pull up the front of her low-cut gown without success. She wasn’t comfortable exposing so much of her bosom. An unwelcome flush engulfed her as she remembered that she’d shown Jack Reynolds her knickers earlier today.

  ‘How many are coming, Dad? There’s enough food and drink to feed a small army.’

  ‘No idea, love, I leave that sort of thing to your mum. I reckon there’ll be a hundred or so if the number of chairs and tables she borrowed from the church are anything to go by.’

  They heard her mother calling from the marquee and both of them turned tail and dashed off in opposite directions. She stumbled, the unfamiliar heeled evening shoes unbalancing her. If she’d had her way she would have worn flat shoes – she was quite tall enough already. Mum had insisted she wear the footwear purchased to complement the frock so she’d had no choice if she didn’t want a major row.

  She’d already received a long lecture about not having long hair which could be put up into something more elegant. To stop the criticism Ellie had agreed to apply a small amount of lipstick, something she never used.

  The home paddock was to be used for car parking. Lanterns had been put up on the trees so people wouldn’t break their necks when they returned to their cars. It did look rather pretty and would look even better when it got dark.

  She spied George lurking in the shrubbery and hurried over to join him. He was nearest to her in age, being three years her senior, but he was more like her mother in temperament so they’d never really been close. She thought he regretted the fact Mum was estranged from her posh family. He was the only one of the siblings that had enjoyed boarding school and mixing with the children of grand folks.

  ‘Are you hiding too?’

  ‘I certainly am. I can’t imagine why our mother wanted to do something so elaborate. I hardly think that getting my wings is a
cause for such a grand party.’

  ‘She’s been desperate to entertain on a lavish scale and this might well be her last chance. You know better than I do that whatever people think there’s going to be a war sooner rather than later. When that starts there’ll be no more outside parties.’

  ‘There’s a hell of a lot of pilots and aircraft being produced if the government doesn’t anticipate a war. It’s going to be down to us bods in the RAF to keep that bastard Hitler out of the country. From what I’ve heard the Luftwaffe is twice the size of us and their pilots are better trained too.’

  This was hardly a cheerful conversation. She shivered in her thin, silk gown, even though the sun was still up. ‘I don’t want to think about it tonight. Let’s talk about something else.’ She pointed to her outfit. ‘Will I pass muster? You’re so lucky you can just wear your uniform and don’t have to put on a dickie bow like all the other men.’

  ‘You look remarkably pretty – in fact quite lovely. Whoever picked that gown out for you knew what they were doing. Green is your colour and matches your eyes.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘Good God! When did you become so sophisticated? I didn’t even know you were aware what colour my eyes are.’

  His laugh attracted the attention of their mother who had been searching for them.

  ‘People will be arriving at any moment. This party is in your honour, George, so you must be there to greet them as they arrive.’ Her mouth thinned and she pointed at Ellie’s shoes. ‘Look at that – you’ve already got mud over the heels. Go inside and clean them up and do try and stay tidy. I don’t want you to embarrass me in front of my friends.’

  Ellie’s pleasure in the evening was squashed by this remark. She picked up her skirt and made her way, as quickly as she could without breaking her neck, towards the house to do as she was told. Nobody would notice if she stayed in her room – she was the least important member of the family. A constant disappointment to her mother who had wanted a daughter like herself.

  From the vantage point of her bedroom window she watched the procession of smart cars arriving. From these vehicles emerged exactly the sort of people she wasn’t comfortable with. They were all dressed to the nines; the women in diamonds and floor-length gowns and the men in dinner jackets and bow ties.

  Soon the noise of the revellers drowned out the sound of the blackbirds. The evening was full of plummy voices and clinking glasses. There weren’t many young people and only three others that she’d seen in uniform – all of them wearing the distinctive grey-blue of the RAF. She leaned out of the open window to see if George had recognised any of them.

  She wouldn’t go down until Jack arrived unless she was sent for. The marquee was on the huge lawn at the back, facing towards the house and she could see into it. Some of the guests she recognised from her bi-annual visits to church but a lot of them were strangers to her.

  She was about withdraw from her position when someone spoke from just under the window. ‘Are you coming down to join me or do I have to come up and get you? I didn’t put on this suit for my own benefit, you know.’

  Jack’s laughing comment almost caused her to fall headfirst. ‘Thank goodness you’re here. I’ve been lurking in my bedroom as I don’t know anyone else apart from my brother and he’s far too busy being the centre of attention to want me anywhere near him.’

  She left the window open and headed for the garden. For the first time since she met him she was actually pleased to see Jack.

  Six

  Jack waited by the front door, which was propped open for the occasion, for what he supposed could be considered his date. Ellie wouldn’t be a boring companion. In fact, if they managed to spend more than an hour together without arguing he’d reckon the evening a success.

  He had his back to the house but heard the tip tap of evening shoes behind him, so turned. Bloody hell! What a difference a pretty dress made – coming towards him was a lovely young woman with curves in all the right places.

  ‘I know – I feel like Cinderella going to meet Prince Charming.’

  She must have seen his look of astonishment but didn’t seem bothered by it. ‘You look swell, Ellie, that gown is perfect on you.’

  ‘Do you mind if I hang on to your arm, I’m terrified I’m going to trip over my skirt or fall off my heels?’

  Obediently he held out his arm and she slipped hers though it. ‘Where to? I’m parched – you promised me there’d be plenty to drink so lead me to the bar.’

  ‘I want to introduce you to George on the way. He’s the one on the left with a silly moustache, in case you’re wondering.’

  Her brother was talking to a couple of other RAF guys who had their backs to them. He smiled. ‘You’ve got to pick up the front of your gown or you’ll put your foot through it.’

  She snatched up a handful of material. ‘Stupid thing – believe me I wouldn’t be wearing this if I had any other option.’

  ‘I’m glad you did. I’d no idea there was a pretty girl under all the baggy clothes.’

  Instead of being pleased by his compliment she snorted in disgust. ‘I’m not looking for a boyfriend, so there’s no need to flirt with me. My priority is flying and I can’t see that changing any time soon.’

  He couldn’t prevent his chuckle. ‘Believe me, sweetheart, you’re just not my type. Too young and too skinny – I prefer my birds with a bit more meat on them.’

  Again, she surprised him. ‘Well that’s a relief, I should hate to hurt your feelings by turning you down.’

  One of the RAF guys spun round as if poked in the butt by a sharp object. ‘Ellie – as I live and breathe. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Michael isn’t it? I live here. Your invitation was from Mr and Mrs Simpson. I’d have thought you might have made the connection.’

  ‘Actually, old bean, I’m staying with Bertie here, just came along for the ride.’ He guffawed and beamed at all them.

  The man was an idiot. The RAF would take anyone as long as they came from the right family. So much for one of the criteria being that the applicant must be highly educated and intelligent.

  He must have been scowling as Ellie dug him sharply in the ribs. ‘I taught Michael to fly. He was my first pupil to go solo.’

  ‘Hi, pleased to meet you. Excuse us, guys, we need a drink.’ He deliberately emphasised the American twang in his accent and was amused to hear them muttering about "uncivilised colonials" behind his back.

  ‘What do you want to drink, honey?’

  She giggled and pinched his arm. ‘You can stop that now, I’m not impressed. I don’t drink alcohol, it doesn’t agree with me. I’ll have lemonade, please.’

  He ordered a pint of beer, picked up a glass for her, and took them back to her. He would have had to be blind not to notice the attention Ellie was getting from the men. A couple of old goats were heading her way and he hastily stepped in front of them.

  ‘Excuse me, gents, the lady’s spoken for.’ They backed off muttering to each other.

  ‘I wish I’d worn my dungarees. I don’t like being stared at like a prize heifer in a sale ring. You should have let them come – I could flatten them easily even dressed in this silly outfit.’

  ‘Here, Ellie, drink your lemonade and behave yourself. Shall we go and find ourselves a quiet spot where we can sit and laugh at the other guests?’

  She pointed to a couple of chairs that hadn’t been positioned around the tables ready for people to sit and eat their supper. ‘Pinch those. Give me your drink and I’ll carry it for you. Don’t frown at me, Jack Reynolds, I’m perfectly capable of holding up my dress and transporting two drinks without falling flat on my face now that I've got used to them.’

  He wasn’t so sure but handed his beer over anyway. ‘Right – where are we going with these?’

  ‘Follow me, I know the perfect place.’

  She led him away from the party and into the rose garden. ‘We can sit under that tree, the sun’s still hot and you must
be suffocating in that suit.’ She smiled at him. ‘I should have said, you scrub up really well too. Even though it’s not a dinner jacket, it’s a very smart suit.’

  ‘Thank you, ma’am, I aim to please.’

  ‘And I, sir, am the Queen of Sheba.’ Her laughter filled the garden and he joined in.

  He positioned the chairs in the shade and then reclaimed his beer. Somehow, she’d managed to carry it without spilling a drop. Maybe she wasn’t as clumsy as he thought.

  From their position they could see what was going on in the marquee but wouldn’t be seen themselves. An ideal place for two people who didn’t enjoy parties. He took an appreciative swallow of his warm beer. ‘British beer is an acquired taste, but I much prefer it to the American version. It’s the one thing I missed when I was over there – that and the fish and chips.’

  They sat in a strangely companionable silence for a while and then she spoilt the moment.

  *

  ‘What’s going on with Joe? Has he been arrested and if so what for?’ Ellie watched him slop his beer onto his trousers and immediately regretted having asked, even though she was entitled to know what was going on.

  ‘He’s "helping police with their enquiries" at the moment. How much do you know about how he came to be your boss?’

  ‘Nothing at all. To tell you the truth I’ve always been curious as to how someone from the East End ended up with a flying club. Not the sort of thing you’d expect from someone with his background.’

  ‘Too common do you mean?’

  She was about to apologise when he laughed. ‘I’m surprised you hadn’t asked him yourself – not backward at coming forward, are you?’ He swallowed a third of his beer with obvious relish before continuing. ‘My aunt, like your mother, married beneath herself. However, unlike your grandparents, her family were all right with it. My aunt’s old man had an ancient kite left over from the last lot and he taught Uncle Joe to fly in it. He was hooked and spent as much time as he could in the old plane until it became too decrepit to get off the ground.