Lily's War

by Shirley Mann

Lily moaned and covered her head with her blanket. ‘It’s still dark.’

  ‘That’s because of the blackout,’ Viv muttered from under her pillow.

  ‘No, it’s because it’s February and it’s ridiculous o’clock.’ Alice chimed in.

  Lily peered out from the blanket and her eyes gradually adjusted to the dark. She looked over at Amy’s bed and sat upright in horror.

  ‘She’s gone,’ she started.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Amy’ Lily told Viv, who by now was grabbing at the light switch.

  ‘She can’t have done, I didn’t hear a thing,’ Viv said.

  ‘You wouldn’t hear if a bomb dropped on the house,’ Marion retorted from her bed, glaring at the others who had stood up and were staring at the discarded pyjamas and abandoned bed.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Lily asked them both.

  ‘We have to tell someone – and now,’ Viv replied, taking control. ‘Where can she have gone, at night and in the blackout?’

  The day became a nightmare. The three girls were taken to be interviewed by the welfare officer and the military police. They were marched along by Sergeant Horrocks, who glared at Lily as if it were her fault. But the truth was they were all wracked with guilt, convinced that they had pushed Amy to take drastic action and felt directly responsible for the young girl’s disappearance.

  ‘They’ve got the lifeboat out,’ a girl called Fran told them with a frown at dinner-time.

  Lily grabbed Alice’s hand and squeezed her fingers in an attempt at reassurance.

  Neither of the girls could eat much of the macaroni cheese and they struggled to concentrate throughout the afternoon. Marion had been too busy eating everyone’s leftovers to be overly concerned.

  ‘She’ll turn up when she gets hungry,’ she said confidently. ‘Either that or the police will find her. She can’t have gone far; she didn’t take her purse with her.’

  But the day dragged on and there was no news. At bedtime, the bedroom seemed empty and colder than usual and Lily wrapped her blanket around her to try and stop the shivering.

  ‘It’s such a cold night,’ she said. ‘Where the hell is she?’

  ‘I’m sure they’ll have found her by the morning,’ said Viv, ‘so get some sleep.’

  But they tossed and turned and eventually Lily sat up.

  ‘It’s no good, I can’t sleep while poor Amy is out there, freezing and starving to death. I’m going to see if I can find her.’

  ‘You can’t go out, the police will get you if you are out without a pass,’ Viv warned, but Lily was already putting her greatcoat on over her pyjamas.

  ‘OK, we’ll all go,’ Alice said, pushing back her crumpled covers. ‘All for one and all that. But if we get caught out at this time of night we’ll be in trouble.’

  Marion turned over and plumped her pillow.

  ‘I’ll just stay here in case she comes back’

  The other three glared at her and sneaked down the stairs, avoiding the fourth step that creaked, turned the key and slipped out of the front door, putting it on the latch so they could get in again.

  ‘I hope the Jerries don’t choose tonight to bomb Blackpool,’ Viv hissed.

  They all stood and waited for their eyes to get used to the pitch black, clinging onto each other in fright. They were risking so much being out this late without a pass.

  It was Alice who took a step forward. ‘Come on, if we’re going to do this, we may as well make it worthwhile,’ she whispered.

  Alice started off down the street with determination. Lily and Viv looked at each other, shrugged and raced to catch up. There could be no going back.

  Chapter 10

  4th March, 1943

  Dear Lily,

  I hope this letter finds you. I don’t know where you are now, but I hope you are keeping safe, warm and well-fed. I can’t remember the last time I had a beer but I’m sure you’re finding regular supplies of cider. I envy you. It’s amazing how important food becomes in wartime, isn’t it? Do you remember bananas? I have dreams about them, with ice cream and a chocolate topping! We’re eating some pretty strange combinations, but I do draw the line at sheep’s eyes, which I know some of the lads have been offered by the locals!

  I’m fine. It’s been a bit hairy here, but I’ve made two really good mates. We’re known as the 3Js: Jackson (me, but you knew that!), Eddie Jenkins and Frank Jones. They are both doing the same job as me and we have a lot of laughs in the middle of this mad world. Eddie’s from Bideford. Sounds a nice place – lovely beach. He had just qualified as a geography teacher – your favourite subject! Frank’s a city boy like me. He’s a bus driver from Bristol and has got a great accent that really confuses the old man. You know we call our captain the old man, but actually, he’s only twenty-seven!

  Yesterday, I split my trousers! I had to clamber up the transporter in a hurry and in the process managed to rip my backside. Frank and Eddie were in a pleat watching me try to walk backwards so as not to embarrass myself but then someone mentioned that the locals are amazing at sewing, so when we came to a village, I changed and took them to someone in a little hut to be repaired. They were done within an hour and they were sewn brilliantly! There wasn’t a mark to show they’d been torn at all. Even Pam, with her embroidery skills would have been impressed. You once said you had trouble sewing on a button, so perhaps I should bring one of the tailors here home for you!

  I’m meeting all sorts here. Last week I met a Ghurkha. They look fierce fellows but are amazing fighters. They have huge knives but will only draw them to fight. If you ask a Ghurkha to show you his knife, he has to cut himself, so I’ve learned to stop doing that, but the knives do look like something out of Arabian Nights! Eddie was making his way back into camp on Tuesday and he suddenly felt a knife at his throat. It was the Ghurkha on duty – they move so silently, Eddie hadn’t heard him. He was very grateful they don’t fight for the enemy, I can tell you.

  I wish I could tell you about what’s going on here, but I’m not sure I know. We are just moved on, sometimes at a moment’s notice, so we’re always at the ready.

  I hope you’re OK. I know we’re all coming across things that we haven’t dealt with before and it can be hard, but we’re tough Mancunians . . . remember that!

  Take care,

  Love,

  Danny

  Danny looked again at Lily’s last letter. It was only short but it did tell him about one of the girls whose mother had died and how it had affected all the WAAFs in Lily’s little group. He breathed deeply, trying to send waves of support across the continents. He was developing a deep need to protect Lily and it was a new experience for him. He was the youngest in the family and had been indulged as only the last born can be. His sisters bossed him, and his mother just smiled and patted his arm when he had tried to suggest he should take more responsibility. In a war where he was just a foot soldier, he often felt out of control and he found it calming to close his eyes and concentrate on how he could be the strong, capable one. Life was going to be so different when he got back . . . if he got back.

  He looked over from his tent to his transporter. He had come to love it as a safe haven, despite the fact that it was so huge it should have been impossible to miss from the enemy aircraft who regularly sprayed the convoys with rapid fire, but so far it had survived unscathed. The drivers had all become increasingly concerned about the Americans, who flew so high to avoid being shot down, that there had been instances when they had mistaken the allies for the enemy.

  ‘Danny, stop dreaming, we need to get these vehicles cleaned up and ready for moving.’ Frank’s voice shook him out of his thoughts. Frank was a welcome hand under the bonnet of a transporter. He had started out as a mechanic and just before the war began, had started to drive buses as well as fix them. They were all learning a great deal from this young man who was two years older than most of them, but he was also like an older brother and kept them all in line. Danny immediately spra
ng into action, jumping up from the makeshift hammock he had erected to keep him off the relentless sand. The two men worked in partnership, carefully dusting off the engine parts and adding oil where necessary.

  ‘I heard that the pub I used to go to near Old Trafford was bombed,’ Danny said in a muffled voice from the depths of the engine. ‘Jerry did us a favour there. It really was a dive, but I hope the Albion still stands. I’d miss that old place and I want to show you it when this is all over. You’d like it. Lots of atmosphere.’

  Frank looked up in surprise at him. It wasn’t often that the men talked about after the war, it was seen as bad luck. Danny caught sight of his expression and grinned ruefully. ‘You’re right, I shouldn’t plan that far ahead, but I was just thinking about home and normality.’

  ‘Normality is an engine that clogs and planes that bomb us, that’s all the normality we need to deal with right now.’

  Danny nodded and they worked on in silence for a bit.

  ‘Still thinking about that girl, what’s her name? Lily?’ Frank asked eventually.

  ‘Nah, there are loads of them just waiting for Danny Jackson to come home. I won’t know which one to kiss first.’

  Frank laughed and looked sceptical. ‘Yeah, sure. I believe you.’

  At that moment, the familiar drone of a plane came out of the desert sky.

  ‘Move it!’ Frank was already half way to the makeshift bunker. Danny looked up for just a fraction of a second too long and then he gauged the distance between the transporter and the dugout and realised he would not make it. He had to make a decision – to dive under the transporter and hope the pilot missed his aim, or head out into the open and risk being in the target area.

  ‘He who hesitates is lost’ he angrily repeated his father’s words as he hurled himself under the fuselage and waited to see if the gunfire strafing out of the sky towards the convoy had his name on it.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Where do we start?’ Alice whispered.

  ‘The pier,’ Lily said with conviction.

  ‘Why the pier?’ Alice said.

  ‘I don’t know, it’s just Amy seemed to like walking down to it.’

  ‘OK, the pier it is,’ Viv agreed and they set off, walking on their tip toes to avoid making a noise past all the boarding houses on the front.

  The moon suddenly came out from behind the clouds and the girls were able to see where they were walking.

  ‘It’s bloody freezing,’ Lily said through gritted teeth.

  ‘It’s colder for Amy,’ Viv retorted, doubling her pace.

  They silently sped along the pavement towards the pier, which looked sad and forlorn without the bright lights of the amusement arcades. The waves were lapping at its pillars, making a rhythmic sound which was almost reassuring in its normality.

  When they got to the pier entrance, the gates were locked. All three of them laced their fingers against the cold iron and stared through to the wooden structure beyond.

  ‘Now what, Lily?’ Viv said.

  ‘Let’s look underneath.’

  They all scrambled down to the beach and Lily called softly, ‘Amy, Amy, are you there?’

  There was no reply and they eventually gave up and clambered back up onto the prom.

  ‘The Tower.’ Lily said decidedly.

  In silence, they made their way towards the Tower, which loomed like a dark metal monster over Blackpool Promenade.

  ‘What time is it?’ Alice asked.

  ‘Two o’clock,’ Lily replied, tilting her watch towards the moonlight. As she did so, she looked down the road and suddenly hissed, ‘Police! Run!’

  They turned and fled back down the prom towards the digs. The two military police officers started to run behind them.

  ‘Split up!’ Viv gasped. ‘I’ll turn next right, you carry on. I’ll see you back at Mrs P’s.’

  The other two didn’t have time to argue and ran as fast as they could. Fortunately, the police were quite a way behind and the girls had a head start.

  Alice and Lily fell into the doorway of Mrs P’s and pushed the door closed as quietly as they could. They were gasping for breath but stuffed their fists in their mouths, waiting to hear whether their pursuers ran past or not. There was a reassuring patter of one set of feet that gradually faded into the distance and they breathed a little easier.

  They stayed as still as statues in the lobby waiting to see if Viv would appear. It was a good ten minutes before the door was slowly opened and a bedraggled Viv collapsed into Alice’s arms.

  ‘Can’t speak . . . had to run miles . . . think he’s gone . . .’ she gasped.

  ‘Oh I am glad to hear that,’ a voice came from the stairs.

  They turned in horror to see Mrs Porter, complete with pink curlers and a clashing red dressing gown standing on the stairs, fuming.

  ‘Close that door and pull the curtain before we’re all in trouble for breaking the blackout,’ she said, her face stern.

  ‘We . . .’ Lily began.

  ‘I don’t want to hear it, but your officer will in the morning. Go to bed.’

  ‘But . . .’

  ‘Bed. NOW.’

  They crept upstairs, veering to the right to avoid the statuesque figure that towered over them, arms folded, breathing heavily.

  They did not dare speak when they got to their room, instead just gave each other a quick hug and got into their freezing cold beds, shivering from terror and exhaustion. Lily glanced over at Marion, tucked down in her bed, seemingly oblivious.

  *

  The next morning, all the girls slept through the alarm until Marion woke them up.

  ‘It’s seven thirty, I’ve had breakfast, you’ve missed yours. I gather you didn’t find Amy. I might have known it would be a wild goose chase.’

  ‘Don’t you care about anyone but yourself?’ Alice yelled at her.

  Marion considered this for a moment then shook her head.

  ‘Well, certainly not some stupid girl who wanders off in the middle of the night and expects everyone else to traipse after her. And if I’d known you were going to be like this, I’d have left you sleeping and then you’d all have been on a charge.’ She stood defiantly in the doorway, challenging them to argue with her. They were all so furious, they could not speak, let alone argue. They pushed past her down the stairs.

  Mrs Porter was waiting for them in the hallway.

  ‘Well?’ she said, threateningly, clutching a tea towel like an instrument of torture.

  The other five girls in the house were all sitting at the table with their plates in front of them. They were keen to watch the excitement and peered around the door frame to catch a sight of the guilty parties.

  ‘We . . . we . . .’ started Lily.

  ‘We what?’ Mrs Porter spat back.

  ‘We went to see if we could find Amy.’

  They all hung their heads while Mrs P absorbed this information.

  ‘And where exactly did you think you might find the poor girl? In a bar or a dance hall maybe?’

  ‘NO!’ Lily looked up in horror. ‘We just couldn’t bear to think of her out in the cold. We just had to do something.’

  ‘And those men following you, I suppose you’re going to tell me they weren’t boyfriends then?’

  ‘Mrs Porter,’ Viv interjected, calmly. ‘They were police officers and we had to run to escape getting caught.’

  Mrs P was silent for a moment, looking from one girl to the other, trying to weigh up whether they were telling the truth. ‘Hmm. Well, we’ll see about that. Get yourselves a cup of tea. You’ve missed breakfast and I’m not doing any more. You’ll just have to be hungry; it’s more than you deserve.’

  Marion went past them with a smug smile on her face. She stopped at the mirror next to the hat stand and patted her hair before sweeping through the front door.

  *

  The Morse code did not make any sense to Lily that morning. At twelve o’clock, she could no
t stand it any longer. Marion, Viv and Alice watched her take off her headset and stride to the front of the room. They looked at each other and did the same.

  ‘Yes?’ Sergeant Horrocks barked.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sarge, but our friend is missing and I can’t concentrate until I know what has happened to her.’

  ‘I am aware of ACW Hodgkins’ situation. And what exactly do you think you can do about it? The authorities are out looking for her.’

  ‘I think I know where she is,’ Lily told her. ‘I would like to be given leave to go and look.’

  ‘You should tell the authorities. Leave it to them,’ the sergeant replied, putting her head down to carry on with her paperwork.

  ‘Please, Sergeant,’ Lily begged, looking at Viv and Alice for support. She felt tears threatening to fall and blinked them back. A professional attitude was what was needed here.

  The sergeant looked from one to the other of the four girls with intense dislike. At that moment, a commanding voice came from behind them.

  ‘It’s like this, Sarge . . .’ Marion suddenly said, drawing herself up to tower above the little group.

  The other girls swirled round in surprise to face her.

  ‘. . . Amy is in a very vulnerable situation and has problems dealing with strangers. She won’t show herself to anyone she doesn’t know and I believe that we, her friends, can coax her to give herself up.’

  Lily took one look at Marion’s calm, superior face and for once was stunned into silence.

  The sergeant stood up.

  ‘Wait here,’ she said, walking towards the door, leaving the four girls standing at the front of the room, watched by the rows of WAAFs who had adjusted their headsets to be able to listen to what was going on.

  ‘Where do you think she is?’ Alice whispered to Lily, watching the heels of Sergeant Horrocks click out purposefully into the corridor.

  ‘The Italian Gardens . . . she told me her mother always wanted to go to Italy and never got there. I’ve only just remembered her talking about it and how her mum would have loved the gardens here because they would have given her a taste of Italy.’