When she was outside in the road she realised she had no idea in which direction to walk. She’d been so distressed when she’d arrived that she’d scarcely taken any notice of her surroundings, or the direction in which she’d come.
She’d caught the local bus at Braintree and it had stopped outside the vicarage – that much she remembered. Had she had to cross the road? No, she hadn’t, so she needed to be on the other side. She didn’t want to hang about outside so would walk until she found a bus stop a mile or two away and then wait.
There was unlikely to be a bus of any sort for hours so she just had to keep walking until one came. She had been trudging along for a few minutes when she heard the sound of a car approaching. It was going in the wrong direction or she would ask for a lift.
It roared past but then screeched to a halt. The noise jolted her from her misery and she turned round to see why it had stopped so suddenly.
The front passenger door flew open and a man leapt out and was running towards her. She dropped her bag and threw herself into Oscar’s arms. She clung to him, ablaze with happiness, unable to form a coherent sentence and he was in no better shape.
‘Darling, I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, please don’t cry. I’m here now and everything’s all right.’
*
Oscar’s cheeks were wet. Jane was shaking, laughing and crying simultaneously. What the hell was she doing creeping about at dawn? Eventually she wiped her running nose on his shoulder, sniffed loudly and looked up at him. He’d never seen anything so beautiful, so perfect, despite her blotchy cheeks and snotty nose.
He lifted her from her feet and kissed her. The touch of her lips on his rocked him on his heels. To think that he’d almost lost her – or to be more accurate she’d almost lost him.
The driver cleared her throat noisily behind them and reluctantly he raised his head but kept his arms firmly around his darling girl.
‘Excuse me, sir, I’d like to get off now. Hopefully, I’ll be back before the end of my shift. Good luck, it’s made my week to see you two so happy. Precious little joy around at the moment.’ The girl dropped his kitbag by the gate leading into his family home, saluted smartly, and hopped back in the car.
She reversed into the drive and then took off back towards London, leaving the two of them alone.
‘Jane, when do you have to be back on duty?’
‘I’ve got a week. What about you?’
‘The same. As of yesterday my squadron thought I’d gone for a Burton. I think I could have asked for twice as much and the CO would have agreed.’ He dug a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face as if she were a small child. She didn’t object. She was just staring at him as if she couldn’t believe her eyes and hanging on to him as if her life depended on it.
‘I expect you’re wondering why I’m out here so early. Your house is full of your relatives and I felt I was intruding.’
This made his decision even easier. ‘Let’s get married tomorrow. Might as well make the most of the family being here. They came for my funeral but can celebrate our wedding instead.’
‘That’s absolutely perfect. There’s so much you don’t know. There’s a seat in the back garden. Can we sit there and talk before we go in and you get smothered by your family?’
He kept his arm around her waist as they walked to the bench. He lifted her onto his lap and she snuggled into him whilst she told him about the suicide and her mother’s release. ‘I’m surprised you’re still on your feet after having to deal with all this over the past few days.’
She tilted her face and he obliged with a tender kiss. ‘I was all right until I got your letter.’ Her smile slipped and she pulled away from him. There was more bad news to come. ‘There’s something I need to tell you and you might very well change your mind about marrying me when you hear it.’
‘I don’t care what you tell me, sweetheart, I’m going to marry you tomorrow and there’s nothing you can do about it. Come on, what’s this dreadful secret?’
‘I’m very sorry but I’m an atheist.’
For a moment he couldn’t believe what he’d heard. Then he started to laugh and couldn’t stop. She poked him in the ribs but he just shook his head. Eventually, he recovered enough to explain.
‘I’ll tell you something Dad said to me many years ago. “It doesn’t matter if you don’t believe in Him, he believes in you and will always be there if you want him.” I don’t give a damn about your religious beliefs, my love. It makes absolutely no difference to how I feel about you or how my family will feel when they know.’
‘I’ve been so worried about telling you, knowing how Christian you all are. It’s such a relief to know it doesn’t matter. I’d like Mum to come. Maybe Mr and Mrs Jackson will bring her as he still seems to have petrol for his car when nobody else does. I can’t see that a vicar should be exempt from petrol rationing.’
‘Dad certainly isn’t. He visits his parishioners on his bicycle and his car’s on wooden blocks in the garage for the duration.’
‘I’ll see if I can get in touch with Charlotte and Nancy – it would be wonderful if they could be here too. They don’t know that you were declared dead – there hasn’t been time to write to them.’
‘It’s after five, sweetheart, and I’m absolutely ravenous. Shall we go in and give the good news to my family?’
29
Jane could still hardly believe that Oscar had been declared dead when he was sleeping quite comfortably in a hospital bed in London unaware that he was officially missing. Yesterday had passed in a blur of happiness.
Today was her wedding day. The beautiful white silk dress that had been altered for her was hanging on the back of the wardrobe door. She even had a pair of pretty white court shoes as well as an antique lace veil. The family and the village had been bracing themselves for a funeral and it would appear that everyone was now invited to the wedding and the wedding breakfast afterwards to be held in the church hall.
That on its own was exciting enough but not only was her mother coming with the Reverend Jackson and his wife, but also Nancy had been given special dispensation to attend. It would seem that she and Oscar had become something of a talking point throughout the RAF. News of the suicide and then the erroneous announcement of Oscar’s death had made them famous.
There appeared to be a lull in the fighting and Roy and several others from his squadron were also coming. They had commandeered some sort of transport and were going to collect Nancy and her young man from her base and return her that night. Jane couldn’t wait to meet Nancy’s fiancé, Tommy Smith.
Normal rules regarding wedding etiquette had been dispensed with because of the unusual circumstances. She and Oscar were not supposed to see each other on their wedding day until they met in church, but as they were living under the same roof this was going to be almost impossible. She’d been helping with the flowers for the hall and the church whilst he had been busy erecting trestles in the garden and bringing out folding wooden chairs. The weather was set fair and as the village hall backed onto the vicarage garden, they were going to make it a garden party as well.
He’d also been helping prepare two rooms upstairs in the attics for them to use tonight. The thought of what would happen between them in the large double bed made her tingle all over. When Mrs Stanton had said they could spend their honeymoon in the attic where they wouldn’t be disturbed she’d turned pink all over.
Although not exactly sure what marital intimacy involved, she did know that doing it often produced a baby. She was not even nineteen years old, and had a role to play in the war effort; she would love to have his babies one day but hoped it wouldn’t be right now.
There was a knock on the door and she sat up in bed. Olivia, Oscar’s older sister, came in with a tray. ‘Good morning, Jane. I come bearing gifts. Boiled eggs and soldiers, toast and marmalade, and a jug of real coffee.’
‘How absolutely spiffing. I hope Oscar got his breakfast in bed as well.’
‘He certainly did. Now, we’ve got the old and borrowed covered. I thought these would do for the blue and the new.’ She put down the tray and pointed to the two items that lay alongside the food.
‘A pair of blue garters – how terribly risqué. Wherever did you get them?’
‘Mum and I made them for you.’ There was an extra cup on the tray and Olivia poured herself some coffee and sat down on the end of the bed. ‘You’re painfully young – I don’t suppose you know very much about making love. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?’
‘Actually, there is something. I really don’t want to have a baby until after the war’s over if possible.’ She hesitated, not sure if what she was going to say would upset her future sister-in-law. ‘We’ve been so lucky; both of us could be dead. Oscar survived this time but he might very well not do so if he gets shot down again. I don’t want to bring up a child on my own and I have a very responsible job, which I’m not allowed to talk about. I expect you think I’m heartless.’
‘I think you’re nothing of the kind. Forget what I said just now about being young. You might be short of years but not of maturity. There are two things a couple can do. First – if you avoid having marital relations in the middle of your cycle and second – there’s something called a prophylactic that Oscar can use.’
Jane understood the reference to her cycle but had no idea what a prophylactic was and didn’t like to show her ignorance by asking. ‘Thank you. I only finished my monthlies yesterday so that’s absolutely perfect.’
Olivia left her to eat her breakfast in peace. Jane could hear voices and footsteps on the stairs and outside in the garden. The ceremony was taking place at midday. No one in his family had been the slightest bit bothered about the fact they were harbouring a heathen in their midst. None of them had found it quite as funny as he had, but it clearly wasn’t a problem to them.
One might almost believe a supreme power was watching over them – but that was nonsense.
She’d washed her hair and had a bath last night. All she had to do was get dressed nearer the time. She wished she had something less utilitarian for her wedding night – WAAF-issue underwear was hardly glamorous and the nightdress was even worse. It seemed such a shame not to have something silky and attractive to wear under her beautiful gown.
She drifted over to the open window, her hair around her shoulders and down her back, and looked out.
‘Darling girl, are you well? You look quite enchanting with your hair loose.’ Oscar, his glorious, sun-streaked hair tousled, was in rolled-up sleeves, shirt open revealing the strong, tanned column of his neck. She’d not seen his naked arms before. A surge of something settled in a most peculiar place.
‘I’m wonderful. I love you but we shouldn’t be talking together – it’s supposed to be bad luck.’ Hastily she stepped away and she could hear him laughing as he strode off. She loved him so much it hurt.
*
At exactly a quarter to twelve she stood back to admire herself in the long mirror propped against the wall. Olivia had arranged Jane’s hair in an elaborate style, which suited the elegance of the antique lace veil. Her silk stockings were held up by the garters and her bosoms and bottom were suitably encased in silk camiknickers, which had mysteriously arrived whilst she was getting ready.
There was nobody to give her away and she was rather dreading walking to the church, and then down the aisle, on her own. The house was quiet. Everyone would be in the congregation awaiting her arrival.
At the top of the stairs she paused to pick up her skirts and Oscar stepped into view. He was wearing his best blues. They exactly matched his eyes, and he’d never looked more handsome or desirable.
‘We’re going to walk together, darling, the way we’ll walk through life in future, arm in arm and hopelessly in love.’
He was right. They were meant to be together. ‘I love you, darling, and from now on I just know I’m going to be happy.’
Acknowledgements
I want to thank all those men and women who gave their lives, literally, in thousands of cases, to protect this country.
Bibliography for Girls in Blue series.
Hornchurch Scramble, Richard C Smith
Chronicle of the Second World War, J & L
One Woman’s War, Eileen Younghusband
The Stepney Doorstep Society, Kate Thompson
We All Wore Blue, Muriel Gane Pushman
Secret Listeners, Sinclair Mackay
Sand in My Shoes, Joan Rice
Christmas On the Home Front, Miles Brown
A to Z Atlas and Guide to London, (1939 edition)
Oxford Dictionary of Slang, John Ayto
Wartime Britain, Juliet Gardiner
How We Lived Then, Norman Longmate
The Wartime Scrapbook, Robert Opie
RAF Airfields Of World War II, Jonathan Falconer
The Day of the Typhoon, John Golley
About the Author
FENELLA J. MILLER was born in the Isle of Man. Her father was a Yorkshireman and her mother the daughter of a Rajah. She has worked as a nanny, cleaner, field worker, hotelier, chef, secondary and primary schoolteacher and is now a full-time writer.
She has over fifty Regency romantic adventures published plus four Jane Austen variations, four Victorian sagas and eight WW2 family sagas. She lives in a small village in Essex with her British Shorthair cat. She has two adult children and three grandchildren.
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The Girls in Blue Page 29