Into The Unknown

by Lorna Peel

  “It doesn’t matter.” He approached her, staring at her face. She was wearing a lot less makeup than before – little or no powder – and her lips weren’t as red. Even so, she was still very striking, with lovely blue-grey eyes to match his uniform.

  “Oh.” She laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m Kate Sheridan. Helen and Bob are my aunt and uncle. Barbara’s my grandmother and Toby’s my cousin.” She gestured to the house. “This is my mother’s old home, she lives in Ireland now.”

  “Hence your accent.”

  “What? Oh, yes. Is it so strange? I keep getting asked the time just so people can hear me talk. Most people think I’m Welsh.”

  “Welsh?”

  She nodded. “I’ve given up correcting people and I’ve seen so many ‘No Irish Need Apply’ signs that I’ve used my ‘Welsh’ accent to get myself a job at long last.”

  “Where?” He couldn’t believe someone would refuse her a job but he had seen the signs, too.

  “I do the bookkeeping in Graham’s the Butchers but I’m thinking of handing in my notice in the New Year.”

  “Don’t you like it?”

  Her face contorted in indecision. “Well, yes, and no. I like the actual job, but it’s the butcher himself, Mr Graham. He’s er…”

  “What? Pestering you?” Charlie grimaced. How dare the randy old fool! Still, he reflected, he couldn’t blame him.

  “Yes. It’s just little things, but I don’t like it. So I’ve decided that if he does it again, I’m leaving – and I’ll tell him I’m Irish.” She sighed. “I’ll need to look for a job again and it took me ages to get this one. I might join up,” she mused.

  “Is that all it is to you – a job?” he asked rather harshly. She was Irish, after all, and the Irish were neutral. “It isn’t, I can tell you.”

  She flushed and kicked out at the gravel. “I know, I do read the newspapers. It’s strange, though, isn’t it? You and Bob, both in the RAF?”

  “I suppose so, but we’re not equals. I’m a pilot, I fly Hurricanes. Bob’s one of the big wigs at Fighter Command.”

  “Oh,” she replied and frowned as if she hadn’t known that. “What exactly does the WAAF do?”

  “The Women’s Auxiliary Air Force? How long have you got?” He glanced at his watch. It was nearly three o’clock. “The King’s Christmas message.”

  “Do you want to listen to it?” she asked. “There’s a wireless in our shelter around the back.” She pointed to the side of the house. “Bob rigged up an aerial because the metal was blocking the signal. Come on.”

  He followed, watching her as she walked. She wore flat-heeled shoes and his gaze moved upwards, cursing the grey trousers and black knee-length coat. I bet she has a great figure, he thought and observed her eagerly as she bent over to go into the shelter. His eyebrows shot up as she slid on the flattened grass and he grabbed her coat to stop her toppling head-first into the doorway. He pulled her back against him, throwing an arm around her waist, only just managing to stay upright himself.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked, turning her around and she clasped his shoulders.

  “No, I’m all right.”

  “Are you sure?” Meeting her eyes, he gazed at her beautiful long eyelashes. Their bodies were pressing snugly against each other and he didn’t want to move or let her go.

  “Yes. I feel such a fool. I didn’t realise the grass was slippery.”

  “Maybe a proper path or some gravel?”

  “Yes, I’ll mention it to Bob,” she replied, sliding her hands down his arms and he had to release her. “Thank you.”

  She went into the shelter, turned the wireless on, then sat on the bottom bunk bed. On impulse, he sat down beside her, and they listened as King George VI’s slow and deliberate voice spoke to them.

  “A new year is at hand. We cannot tell what it will bring. If it brings peace, how thankful we shall be. If it brings us continued struggle we shall remain undaunted. In the meantime, I feel we may all find a message of comfort in the lines which, in my closing words, I would like to say to you: I said to the man who stood at the Gate of the Year, ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.’ And he replied, ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.’”

  The words were so simple yet so profound that Charlie felt a tingling in his fingers as he switched the wireless off. Beside him, he felt Kate shiver.

  “Are you cold?” he asked her.

  “No. He has a bad stammer, doesn’t he, your king?”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “Then it was very brave of him to speak like that. I suppose we’ll all have to be brave, in time.”

  Charlie looked around at her. Her eyes were fixed solemnly on the open door of the shelter and her lips were pursed a little.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” he replied, hoping she wasn’t blessed with second sight.

  “So,” she added in a brighter tone, “what exactly does the WAAF do?”

  “Oh.” He leaned forward, fiddling with his cap. “Hundreds of things. They operate teleprinters which carry all kinds of things from combat reports to orders for equipment and supplies. They work in ‘R’, which is short for receiver huts, at Chain Home Stations, being the ones who keep an eye on aircraft, both enemy and friendly. They pass the information to the filter room and it is plotted on the map table.”

  “Keeping an eye on all of you.”

  “And all of them.”

  “It sounds very interesting.”

  “It’s very hard work. You have to be alert the whole time. Are you sure you want that?”

  “I’m not afraid of hard work,” she told him, sounding a little indignant.

  “No. Well, think about it.”

  “I will.”

  “And,” he added. “Would you think about something else too?”

  “Oh? About what?” she asked looking around at him fully.

  “W-would you allow me t-to take you to-to the pictures?” To his surprise, he found himself stammering and he began to cross his fingers. Please say yes.

  To his consternation, she laughed. “Ten minutes ago you didn’t even know I existed and now you’re asking me out. Are all pilots like you?”

  No, he thought, some are even worse. “I don’t know, I’ve never asked any of them out.”

  She frowned at him for a moment, then dissolved into giggles.

  Please say yes.

  “Yes, all right. When?”

  “Oh?” He forced himself to think clearly. “The day after tomorrow? Eight o’clock?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. I’ll pick you up in the car.”

  She nodded. “Thank you, Charlie.”

  She had an odd way of saying his name, really rolling the ‘r’ and he smiled. “I’ll see you then, then.”

  She laughed and they left the shelter. “Bye, Charlie.”

  He waited until he was out on the pavement before clenching his fists in delight. His feet hardly touched the ground as he crossed the street and went back inside.

  Clive was on his way upstairs, but Charlie went into the drawing room and sat down in an armchair opposite his parents with a grin on his face.

  “Wherever have you been?” his mother asked as she put some knitting on the arm of her chair and got up. She went to the alcove on the right-hand side of the fireplace, where the wireless sat on a shelf, and turned it off. “You missed the King’s excellent speech.”

  “I heard it, Mother.”

  “Why the grin?” His father, sitting on the sofa with his feet up on a padded stool, laid his book down on his lap.

  “I’m taking someone out to the pictures.”

  “Are we allowed to know who the someone is?” Dr Butler asked and Charlie laughed.

  “Yes, Father. Kate Sheridan from across the street.”

  “Bob and Helen’s niece? A nice-looking girl, eh, dear?”

  Mrs Butler remained si
lent as she returned to her seat.

  “Mother?” Charlie prompted.

  “She’s Irish,” she spat. “The Irish are neutral. They won’t fight.”

  “She arrived here the day war was declared. That hardly makes her neutral. Plus, her mother is English. You don’t know her at all, Mother. Please don’t say anything else until you’ve met her properly.”

  “I have met her properly.” Mrs Butler curled her lip. “She looked like a tart.”

  “I’m surprised you know what a tart looks like, Mother,” he replied, very disappointed at her reaction. “Actually, that might just have been over-enthusiasm on her aunt’s part. I’ve just spoken to her and she looked very nice.”

  “Hmm.” His mother reached for her knitting.

  Dr Butler shook his head, telling Charlie in his own way not to take any notice.

  Charlie nodded, but his spirits had plummeted. For some reason, he wanted his mother to like Kate.

  Dr Butler followed Charlie out into the garden at the first opportunity the next day.

  “Your mother’s just worried about you, that’s all,” he said as Charlie lit a cigarette.

  “It was an awful thing to say, Father.”

  “I know. Tomorrow, isn’t it?” he asked and Charlie nodded. “Well, if you’re not back too late, why don’t you invite her in for a Christmas drink so we can meet her properly?”

  Charlie grimaced, not relishing that idea at all. “Only if Mother stays quiet.”

  His father smiled. “I can’t promise that.” Growing serious, he added, “Treat Kate properly, won’t you? I don’t think she’s what could be called a ‘fast girl’.”

  Charlie flushed. “I know. I really like her, Father. I saw her the day after she arrived and I couldn’t stop thinking about her for ages.”

  His father patted his arm. “Be good to her then, son.”

  “She’s thinking of joining the WAAF,” he said miserably. “What if she does and something happens to her?”

  “She’s probably wondering what if something happens to you,” Dr Butler replied. “Live for now, Charlie, but treat her properly all the same.”

  Charlie had never taken so long to get ready to go out. He had a bath and washed his hair, then shaved carefully. Hanging his uniform on his wardrobe door, he reached for his clothes brush and gave it a good brushing down.

  Ten minutes later, he grinned at himself in the wardrobe mirror. Don’t be a vain sod, he told his reflection and went out onto the landing. He ran down the stairs, put his head around the drawing room door and his father winked at him.

  “Have a nice time,” his mother said shortly.

  “Thank you,” he replied, just keeping the surprise out of his voice. His father must have spoken to her.

  He went out to the car and put his gas mask case behind the driver’s seat before climbing in. He drove across the street, up number 26’s drive, got out of the car and went up the steps to the front door. He rang the doorbell and stood back, feeling ridiculously nervous. Don’t make a fool of yourself now, he ordered himself as the front door opened.

  Chapter Three

  Kate laughed as she watched Charlie disappear from view down the drive. What impression had she given to make him ask her out so quickly? She went up the steps, into the hall and looked at herself in the mirror. Since starting at the butcher’s, she was buying clothes and makeup for herself without Helen and half a dozen shop girls breathing down her neck. She did look stylish but hoped Charlie had liked her trousers.

  She smiled, remembering Charlie’s hard body against hers and the tight grip of his hands around her waist. He was tall and very handsome, with dark brown hair and his beautiful eyes were almost black in colour. Her smile broadened and she ran upstairs to her room.

  As she began her evening meal, Bob rounded on her kindly. “All right, what’s his name? I know a gleam in an eye when I see one.”

  She laughed and put her cutlery down. “Charlie Butler from across the road. He’s taking me to the pictures.”

  “Charlie?” Bob pursed his lips in surprise. “He’s a nice chap, but don’t get too attached,” he warned. “He goes through more women than… I don’t know what.”

  “Oh.” Her heart sank. He seemed so nice. Maybe too nice.

  “I’m not trying to put you off him, Kate. It’s just that pilots don’t know if they are going to be alive the following day. They try to cram as much living as they can into a very short time. Be careful, that’s all I’m trying to say.”

  Kate was determined to enjoy herself all the same and, after weighing up her entire wardrobe, decided on a navy coloured trouser suit and white blouse. It was a cold night and she didn’t want to give Charlie the excuse to, well, she wasn’t quite sure. She bathed, then styled her hair, letting it hang over her shoulders, not wanting to look too severe either. Applying her makeup in moderation, she realised the beautician at the salon had put on far too much. To have gone from only wearing makeup in secret to that – she had looked like a clown.

  Slipping her feet into a pair of black flat-heeled shoes, she dabbed on some perfume and nodded at her reflection in the wardrobe mirror, still amazed she could transform herself like this and attract so much attention. The front doorbell jangled and she heard Millie go to answer it. Taking one last peek at herself, she grabbed the zipped leatherette gas mask case which doubled up as a handbag and went downstairs. Charlie stood in the hall, looking even more handsome than the last time she’d seen him.

  Hearing her approach, he turned and smiled. “You look beautiful, Kate,” he said, taking her coat from Millie and helping her into it.

  “Thank you. You look very smart, Charlie.”

  The drawing room door opened and Bob came out to the hall. “Enjoying your leave, I see.”

  Charlie laughed. “I’m doing my best, Bob.”

  “Enjoy yourselves,” Bob called after them as they went out then closed the front door to preserve the blackout.

  Kate smiled as Charlie opened the passenger door of his MG for her. “I like your car. Well, the little bit I can see in the dark,” she told him as he ran around the car and got in, then added, “but I suppose all your dates tell you that?”

  “Thanks,” he replied but made no further comment on what she had said and she pulled a face into the darkness. Was Bob right and she was just one of many? “Now, sit tight, I drive rather too fast in the blackout.”

  He wasn’t exaggerating, and she was breathless as he pulled in just down the street from the picture house. Reaching for his gas mask case, he got out of the car, then ran around it and helped her out. He bought two tickets, then led her straight to the back row.

  She hid a smile. How many times had he done this before? They settled in their seats and it wasn’t long before he had an arm around her.

  When the lights went down, Kate wondered how long it would take for him to make a pass at her. To her surprise and, despite resting her head against his shoulder and he resting his head against hers, he seemed to actually want to watch the film. She didn’t quite know whether to be relieved or offended.

  “It’s a good film, isn’t it?” she asked, straightening up, as the lights came on for the interval.

  “Yes, it is.” He stretched, then reached up and pushed his hair off his forehead, rolling his eyes as it flopped down again. On impulse, she leaned towards him and swept it off with her fingers and he flushed and stared at her in surprise before looking around for an usherette. “Do you want some chocolate or an ice-cream?”

  “No, thanks. You go ahead, though.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t afford to get fat, Hurricanes aren’t that big. I’m big enough as it is, I’d never get off the ground.”

  “You’re not fat,” she said and, despite the low lights, saw him flush again.

  He seems to really like me, too, she told herself as the lights went down for the rest of the film, but be very careful all the same until you know you can trust him.

  His ar
m went back around her and by the end of the film, their heads were resting against each other again.

  “It’s not too late,” he told her, looking at his watch. “Would you like to go for a drink? I know a nice club just around the corner.”

  “Yes, thank you,” she replied, suddenly eager to see what sort of clubs he brought women to.

  Giving him her hand, they walked around the corner and into a dark and smoky nightclub. They sat at a table with an unlit candle in the centre, overlooking the crowded dance floor as a band played a style of music she hadn’t heard before. Kate stared through the gloom at one energetic couple as the man lifted his scantily-clad partner off the floor and swung her around. This was certainly different from the sedate afternoon tea dances she was used to in Ballycarn and she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous.

  “What kind of music is this?” she asked Charlie.

  “Jazz,” he replied, sounding a little surprised she hadn’t recognised it. “What would you like to drink?” he asked as a waiter approached their table.

  “A glass of red wine, please. And to have the candle lit, too, please.” She glanced up at the waiter, speculating wildly on whether Charlie had brought her to a dark table on purpose.

  The waiter lit the candle, Charlie ordered her wine and a whisky for himself and they sat in the candlelight listening to the music for a few minutes. Will he ask me to dance, she wondered as the drinks were brought to their table and, more importantly, was she going to make a fool of herself trying to dance to this jazz music?

  “To peace, and soon.” He held up his glass and she touched it with hers.

  “I hope so,” she replied and they sipped their drinks.

  “Would you like to dance?” he asked, putting his glass down and holding out a hand as the band began a slow set.

  She nodded, rising, and taking his hand. Dancing with a man while wearing a pair of trousers felt peculiar, but moving slowly around the floor amongst the other dancers, she found herself savouring his closeness again. One of his hands clasped hers, the other was in the small of her back holding her against him. He smelled of a mixture of soap and cigarettes. This was dangerously nice.