Gunner Girls and Fighter Boys Read online

  The man in the tree started to sing the national anthem and May began to feel very foolish.

  ‘Mum, can you go back and fetch me a chair and a knife from the kitchen.’ As Mrs Lloyd began to protest, May turned to her and said firmly, ‘Mum, listen to me, he’s no more German than I am!’

  She shouldn’t really blame her mother. She’d been blindsided herself by the mysterious ‘fifth columnist’ on the hill and the presence in the major’s house of supposed secret intelligence officers. The propaganda they’d been fed for so long about a German invasion had certainly sunk in deep. What she really regretted was the effect on her mother. May’s training should have prepared her to be steady under fire but she’d panicked, and instead of reassuring Mrs Lloyd, she’d dragged her out into the middle of what appeared to be friendly action. She only hoped this hadn’t returned her mother to the spiral of fear that had sent her running from London.

  ‘My mother will be back in a minute.’ She craned her neck, watching as the Canadian tried to hoist himself up on the parachute cords.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘Only my pride, honey,’ he called back down, cheerful now that he knew he would be rescued. ‘Captured by a girl with a poker – I’ll never live it down.’ He chuckled.

  ‘I’m sorry, we didn’t know you were the allies,’ she called back up.

  ‘You can make it up to me if you like.’ She could see that he was grinning now, perfectly white teeth flashing in the dark shadows of the tree. ‘Agree to come to the dance tomorrow night at the base and we’ll say no more about it. What d’ya say?’

  May thought he was very forward and was about to refuse when Mrs Lloyd came back with the chair and kitchen knife. While her mother held the chair steady May stood on it, and handed the knife to the airman. He sawed away at the cords, till May heard a ripping sound.

  ‘Timber!’ he called, falling with a thump on to the soft woodland carpet.

  May rushed to help him up.

  ‘Ankle’s twisted,’ he said, wincing as he put his weight on to one foot and tried to walk forward.

  ‘Here, lean on me,’ May said, putting his arm over her shoulder, which he seemed to enjoy. ‘Mum, can you take his other side,’ she said quickly.

  Between them they helped him hobble back to the cottage, and on the way he explained that the whole thing had been a training exercise.

  ‘Well, I wish someone had told us about it. My mum nearly had a heart attack, didn’t you?’

  Her mother grunted, obviously unimpressed by the Canadian, who’d introduced himself as Doug McKecknie. He looked a little sheepish. ‘I’m sorry about that, but it’s meant to be as realistic as we can make it.’

  And our panic was real enough, May thought, feeling a flush of embarrassment. Back in the little cottage, May was surprised to see her mother begin calmly boiling a kettle.

  ‘I should’ve known it was you Canadians from over the base,’ she said matter-of-factly to the airman, as May helped ease him down on to a chair. ‘But you did sound a bit like Germans. Didn’t they, May?’

  ‘A bit – well, they didn’t sound English!’ said May. But in truth their voices had been muffled on the wind.

  Mrs Lloyd put a cup of tea in front of Doug, who was laughing at her again. He gulped it down.

  ‘Well, ladies, I appreciate your help. But I gotta rejoin my company, or they’ll be sending out a search party. Can’t have them finding me drinking tea with the enemy!’

  He got up gingerly and tried his weight. Seemingly satisfied, he looked at May.

  ‘See me out?’

  May followed him to the front gate. Light from the kitchen crept through the edges of the blackout curtains, but otherwise the inky night hung about them. While he was in the cottage, she’d seen that he was handsome, in a rugged, big-boned sort of way, and now those white teeth flashed again as he said goodnight. Leaning on the gate, he smiled. ‘So, shall I pick you up around seven?’ She had to think for a moment, what he meant.

  ‘I’m not sure…’

  What wasn’t she sure of? It was silly, but she had wanted to say that she already had a sweetheart, but the truth was, she didn’t. Perhaps it was time to let Bill, or rather the idea of him, go and get on with her life.

  ‘You did say you wanted to make up for your treason… and it’s just a dance, May, not a court martial!’

  She laughed. It might be fun.

  ‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘Pick me up at seven.’

  And as he limped up the gravel path towards the drive of the big house, she called after him, ‘Providing you can dance!’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be able to dance all right, if I have to keep this ankle on ice all night!’

  He waved a hand and May watched him disappear behind the hedge. She strolled back to the cottage, wondering at just how much had happened, here in this out-of-the-way place. And to think that Emmy had warned her she would be bored in the country!

  *

  Pat came over from the big house next morning to see if May had heard all the commotion of the night before, and when she heard the story of the ‘German’ invasion, she began laughing so hard that she was soon gasping for breath. She held her side and flapped her hands at May as if she could do nothing to stop it.

  ‘Well, it wasn’t funny at the time – we were terrified!’ May said, straight-faced, and Pat squeezed her cheeks with both palms in an effort to curb her hilarity.

  ‘I’m sorry, hang on a minute.’ Pat looked away, but was wracked by a new fit of hilarity and May waited patiently, until she too was caught up in the giggling fit.

  ‘If you’d only seen Mum trying to squash all them tins into the suitcase!’

  They walked over to sit on the little bench at the end of the garden, with its wide view of the valley and far hills.

  ‘At least you got a date out of it! Was he worth the terror?’ Pat asked.

  May thought for a moment. ‘Ask me after the dance. What about your Mark – have you seen him since we arrived?’

  Pat shook her head sadly. ‘As soon as we got here I went up to the stables to find him and Arnold told me he’d gone! I couldn’t believe it, just went off without a word…’ she said, looking miserable. ‘Just my luck, the first chap I really click with…’

  May’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh gawd, in all the excitement I forgot to tell you. He didn’t just leave, Pat. He was sacked!’

  ‘Sacked? Oh God, my uncle must have found out about us. I thought he might disapprove, but he didn’t have to take it out on poor Mark. The stables are his life.’

  ‘But it wasn’t your uncle sacked him!’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Pat asked, looking confused.

  ‘Mum heard from Tom that it was the head lad did it.’

  Pat stood up. ‘Arnold? That bloody man! He’s always made Mark’s life a misery, but I never thought he’d sack him. I bet he’s told Mark a load of lies about my uncle ordering it.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Come up to the lads’ barn with me? I’ve got to find out where Mark’s gone and tell him it wasn’t the major… He thinks the world of my uncle.’

  May followed her to the old barn, which had been converted into a hostel for the stable lads. Her knock was answered by the short, wiry young man who’d collected them from the station in the pony and trap.

  ‘Tom, do you know where Mark’s gone?’

  So this was her mother’s favourite. May could see nothing of Jack in him, but if it gave her mother comfort, what did it matter? The boy looked round nervously and let the door click shut behind him against the curious looks of a couple of lads. The dormitory that May had glimpsed reminded her of the barracks hut in Barkingside.

  ‘No, I’ve got no idea where he is. Sorry, Pat. But I do know Arnold’s banned him from the place. If I hear anything from him I’ll let you know, though.’

  As they walked away Pat looked at May and said, ‘Looks like we’re in the same boat now, May, both lost our fellers. Well, you know what they say, miser
y loves company. Fancy a walk?’

  She looked so cast-down, that May didn’t like to leave her, and after all she would only go back and rattle around in the big old house on her own. As they passed the stables, Pat stopped at an open stall to feed sugar lumps to a beautiful chestnut horse with long eyelashes and dark liquid eyes. He seemed to May to be expecting the treat. She stood a little to one side, until Pat beckoned her and passed her a sugar cube.

  ‘Dobbin, you must really love these animals to share your sugar!’ May joked, putting the cube to the horse’s surprisingly delicate lips.

  ‘I do,’ Pat said. ‘I can be myself with the horses – no expectations, no judgements.’ She gave the animal’s neck a firm stroke. ‘Mark felt the same. I suppose it’s why we got on so well.’

  They left the horse and followed a track round the stables, where they began climbing the hill. They said very little, as the way was steep and Pat seemed lost in her own thoughts. Soon they were high enough to see the wide vale, spread out beneath them, with a line of hills so far distant they looked blue.

  ‘You can see four counties from here,’ Pat said, breathing hard. The hilltop was flat and wide and, as they walked along it, Pat said she wanted to show May something special.

  ‘It was Mark’s favourite place,’ she said.

  When Pat stopped, May looked around, but there was nothing to be seen, only bright green turf, stretching away in front and behind them.

  ‘Where is it then?’ she asked and Pat beckoned. As May walked forward on to the turf she was aware of suddenly treading on what felt like a luxurious cushion; her feet seemed to bounce on the grass and she smiled at Pat.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘This place is called the gallops! It’s where they bring the horses to exercise,’ Pat said, laughing. ‘Uncle says it’s like walking on the finest Wilton with four underlays!’

  May bounced on the springy turf, and then dropped to her knees to press her hand down on it.

  Pat looked on, smiling. ‘The gallops have been here two hundred years, always used for the same thing. And it’s hard work keeping it like this. Mark used to tell me about his job, “treading in the gallops”, they call it. See where it all gets churned up by the horses’ hooves? The lads get sent in with pitchforks to turn it over and then they have to tread every inch of it down. Back-breaking, but Mark said it was worth the effort.’

  May admired the spreading emerald carpet and said softly, ‘Imagine jackboots walking all over this, Pat.’

  ‘I suppose it’s what makes me stick at the army. I know I’ve never had a home like you, but this is the nearest to one I’ll ever get. Even though I can’t be a gunner girl, at least I can do my bit to keep it safe.’

  Wind whipped up over the top of the ridge as they sat side by side, silent for a while, May enjoying the peace of this landscape that had the power to charm and soothe and nurture.

  ‘I’ll always be grateful for this place, Pat. It’s given me back my mum.’

  And it was true. May was convinced that, as much as the major’s kindness, it had been the countryside that had restored her mother. Here there was nothing extreme or challenging, no threatening mountains or raging torrents, just enfolding hills and winding streams, gentle balms for her mother’s shattered soul.

  But suddenly the peace was broken by a sharp shout echoing like a gunshot across the gallops. Startled, she spun round to see a man emerge from a stand of trees. He began running towards them and she pulled Pat to her feet, urging her to run. For May had recognized him immediately. It was the watcher on the ridge.

  May instinctively put herself in front of Pat. But she edged May out of the way, and as the man drew near, he ignored May and swept Pat up into his arms with undisguised delight.

  ‘You’re the German spy with the binoculars!’ May blurted out as he set Pat down on her feet again.

  ‘The only thing I’ve been spying on was this one!’ he said, looking down lovingly at Pat.

  Pat was laughing and crying all at once. ‘May thought you were fifth column! But where have you been staying? I’ve asked all over.’

  ‘I suppose I did look a bit suspicious, but I’ve been camping out in the wood and I had to talk to you before I left, Pat,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want you thinking I’d just gone off and abandoned you!’

  Pat was clinging to Mark’s arm. ‘But you’re not going anywhere now!’ she said. ‘Uncle had nothing to do with it. It was Arnold’s idea. Once the major knows, he’ll take you back.’

  ‘It’s good to know the old major didn’t get rid of me. I wouldn’t mind a reference. But, Pat, I couldn’t go back anyway. I’ve had my call-up papers.’

  Pat’s smile disappeared and May could see tears brimming. She was beginning to feel superfluous now.

  ‘I’ll leave you two together,’ she said.

  ‘You won’t know your way,’ Pat said, but her eyes were still on Mark.

  ‘I’m a homing pigeon – I can always find my way.’ May smiled and squeezed Pat’s arm.

  She walked back down the hill, thinking of the sad farewells being said on the gallops, right now, and she played out in her mind all the sorrowful partings of this war. At least Pat had the one consolation she’d never had with Jack, that of being able to say goodbye.

  When she passed the stables, Tom was there. She explained where they’d found Mark, and who she’d mistaken him for.

  ‘Wait till you tell Mrs Lloyd who the fifth columnist really was!’ he said, laughing.

  *

  Later Pat came to the cottage. ‘Come for a walk. I need to talk to you. I’ve got news!’

  Grabbing her jacket from the hook behind the door, May called back to her mother in the kitchen.

  ‘Just popping out with Pat!’ She hurried the girl out.

  ‘Hold on, I’ve got some cake for the major! She can take it up to him,’ her mother called out.

  May raised her eyes and whispered, ‘She’s gone baking mad now she can get hold of the butter. I didn’t know there was a black market in the country!’

  ‘It comes from the dairy farmer down the road. Uncle’s given over some of his land for the cows.’ May’s mind, formed in Bermondsey, had imagined some rustic version of George roaming the lanes.

  Her mother came to the door with the cake tin. ‘Did she tell you about us silly sods last night?’ her mother said, laughing, and Pat nodded. May looked at her mother’s face, flushed from the heat of the kitchen, and untroubled. That the woman could now laugh at her own fear flooded May’s heart with gratitude, which spilled over to Pat. She put her arm round the girl as they walked away. ‘What’s happened, Dobbin? Has Mark gone?’

  ‘Not yet, but he’s asked me to marry him!’

  ‘Blimey, that was quick work. Congratulations! But what about your uncle?’

  ‘I made Mark come and see the major with me. As soon as I told him what had happened and that Mark was going into the army, he gave us his blessing! Oh, May, I’ve never been happier.’

  May was genuinely pleased for her friend; there was only the merest sliver of pain lodging in her own heart, as she hugged her. It wasn’t jealousy; it was regret.

  ‘Oh, you two will have to come to the dance with us tonight, to celebrate!’

  And when the time came for Doug to pick her up she was glad not to be alone. They were all ready and waiting for him at seven-thirty, and as he rounded the hedge, she saw disappointment briefly cloud his face. He obviously didn’t appreciate the company. But he recovered enough to smile broadly as he took her arm. ‘Your carriage awaits,’ he said as he led her to the gravel drive where a jeep was parked.

  ‘Your pals can come too. I think there’ll be enough room, but it’s a good job one of you two is on the short side!’ He grinned at Pat and Mark.

  ‘Where did you get this?’ May hadn’t expected transport.

  Doug pointed to his sergeant’s stripes. ‘Commandeered it! We’re always being told to keep the locals happy!’

  They
all clambered up into the jeep and Doug drove at breakneck speed down the hill, along winding narrow roads, till they reached the mercifully flatter country beyond Moreton-in-Marsh where the airfield was situated. Still, by the time they arrived at the RAF base, May was feeling sick and she was relieved when Doug brought the car to a screeching halt outside the NAAFI.

  The dance was being held in the sparsely decorated canteen. Not that May had time to notice much, for as soon as they pushed through the door they were greeted by a stampede of eager fighter boys. Doug put a proprietorial arm round her and without asking whisked her away to the brash music, blaring out from the band on the stage. They danced to the jolly, jazzy tune of, ‘Somebody Else Is Taking My Place’, while a Peggy Lee lookalike girl in WAAF uniform sang the incongruous words of heartache and regret. The tune won out and, ignoring the words, May gave herself up to the whirlwind that was Doug McKecknie. He swung her round and negotiated the dance floor as if it were a sky filled with Messerschmitts, steering her in and out of the other couples until she felt like one of the Spitfires he piloted, and that they were in a dogfight, not a dance. She hoped he was a more skilful fighter boy than he was a dancer for by the interval, May was suffering. She made her excuses and hobbled with bruised feet to a chair, while Doug went to get them drinks. When the band started playing again, ‘Apple Blossom Time’, Doug took her hand. May had been praying for the respite of a slow dance, and she thought she could manage this one. Doug pulled her in close as the WAAF girl sang from the stage: ‘One day in May, you’ll come and say, happy the bride, that the sun shines on today.’ The singer’s yearning voice was not happy at all. Jolly tunes to sad words and sad tunes to happy words – it seemed the whole world was confused, not just her. But glancing over at Mark and Pat in a close embrace, oblivious to the melancholy music, May had a glimpse of something certain and longed to know it for herself. Perhaps it was this longing that persuaded her to follow Doug out into the wide, dark night of stars, and let him kiss her.

  *