by Shirley Mann
‘Hell, I’ve got to go, don’t drink it all without me.’
Alice grinned and pretended to take a large swig. Lily threw her pillow at her and then put her coat on to leave.
The congealed fat was only one of Lily’s problems that night. The cooks had been preparing a buffet for the CO and visiting brass and there was a mess everywhere, with flour splattered across the work surfaces. It took two hours for Lily to scour them with boiling water and caustic soda and then she still had the floors to do. Lily stood up, stretching her aching back and looked in despair at the floor. It was filthy, covered in grease and dirt. She resignedly reached for the squeegee and got down on her hands and knees, putting a rag under her, but nearly gagged when she got to the drain at the top end of the server. It was full of muck and Lily had to look away as she scooped it up to dispose of it. Any illusions that the RAF was going to be glamorous were completely dispelled.
Finally, she was able to leave the spotlessly clean kitchen and head back to the billet in the dark, dragging her tired feet. She came around a corner near the Medical Centre but faltered as she saw a figure coming out. It was Sergeant Horrocks firmly shutting the door behind her and hurrying down the steps. Lily was in no mood for an altercation so pressed herself back against the wall, and the sergeant went straight past her as if she did not exist and scurried off into the dark, clutching her handbag. Lily stood and watched her for a minute, puzzled.
She reached Mrs Porter’s and found Alice sat up in bed, with the two mugs of gin next to her in readiness. Marion and Viv had gone to the pub with the RAF men from down the road.
‘You are an angel,’ Lily said to her friend, reaching out for the proffered cup. ‘My hands are red raw, I am now officially an expert in filthy drains and may have found my future career as a cleaner. But Alice, listen, you’ll never believe what I’ve just seen.’
She tucked her feet under her on her bed, drank hungrily at the gin and told Alice what had just happened.
‘You mean she didn’t even notice you?’
‘No, not a flicker of recognition. It was really weird. It was as if she didn’t even see me.’
‘Do you think she’s in trouble? That would be divine justice, if she had got into trouble while she’s doling out punishments to everyone else.’
‘I don’t know and, quite frankly, I don’t care tonight, I’m so tired. I just know this gin is like nectar and I want another cup.’
Chapter 13
The following night, Alice and Lily tracked down Warrant Officer Hales and got a pass each. Viv and Marion already had theirs so the four of them decided to go to a dance at the Palace.
It seemed an age since they had gone to a dance and they could not contain their excitement as they got ready. Viv yelped after she burnt herself on the poker that they used to spread boot polish on their shoes. ‘Dammit, will anyone really think these shoes are patent and not standard issue? I do this every time.’ She sucked her fingers to ease the pain.
‘It’s such a shame we only have our uniforms to wear,’ Marion complained, patting her blouse into her skirt, ‘I have the most adorable little Dior number that would be perfect for tonight.’
‘Such perfection might be wasted on the hoi polloi of Blackpool,’ Alice said, rubbing her scalp with some liquid out of a bottle. ‘I’m not sure this Eau de Cologne works. Oh, for a real bath to be able to wash my hair properly.’
At last they were ready, uniforms neat, hair in place and in high spirits. Even Marion was struggling to find things to moan about.
A night out was a rare treat and they were all equally determined to forget the war and have some fun.
*
The dance hall was full of couples in uniform who were whirling around the dance floor to a band playing Glenn Miller. The four girls stood in the doorway, having given their greatcoats to the cloakroom assistant who carefully marked them with individual raffle tickets and hung them up next to 100 other identical coats.
They looked quickly around them, eyeing up the talent and the possibilities of the night. There was a glittery ball hanging from the ceiling and it cast a rainbow of colours across the dance floor making the sea of dull uniforms below appear sparkly and gay.
‘Come on, we’ve only got passes until nine thirty so we’d better get a move on,’ Alice said, pushing the others towards the bar.
Armed with gin and Italian vermouth, they stood for a moment while the last strains of ‘Chattanooga Choo Choo’ finished playing. A handsome soldier came up to Alice and whisked her away for a dance. She grinned back over his shoulder as she allowed him to put his arm around her waist and draw her to him. The strains of ‘My Baby Just Cares for Me’ rang out and Alice concentrated on her feet, moving them purposefully across the floor.
Lily was tapped on the shoulder by a tall, serious looking young man in a naval uniform. ‘Would you like to dance?’
‘Yes, please,’ she said and took his arm. He was a good height as a dance partner but his hand around her waist was too tight and Lily pulled back a little as they joined the dance floor. Immediately two of his friends approached Marion and Viv and they disappeared into the throng.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Lily. What’s yours?’
‘Doug, we’re training here, what about you?’
‘Yes, wireless operators,’ she mouthed as they got nearer the band.
‘It’s just begun for us, hasn’t it? Funny to think some people have been in it for years already.’
‘Yes, there’s a big war out there,’ she said thoughtfully, a dark-haired Tommy’s face emerging from her memory. A similar scene from three years before came back to her, when it was Danny who was leading her around the dance floor at the Boys’ Brigade in Manchester. It made her smile to think of it; his dancing was not up to Doug’s, although he did have a great deal of enthusiasm, she recalled.
Two quicksteps and one waltz later, Doug steered Lily towards the bar and ordered her another gin and It. Lily twirled the glass in her fingers and looked sideways at her dance partner. He was quite good-looking, she decided, and he had been quite a nifty dancer, but his conversation had been a bit stilted and she wondered whether he was nervous.
‘Where are you from?’ she asked him, trying to draw him out.
‘Portsmouth. That’s why I joined the navy. All my family are in it. Said it would be a way for me to see the world, but so far I’ve only got to Blackpool. You?’
‘Manchester.’
‘Both places have seen a bit too much of this war already,’ he said, avoiding looking at her.
Lily wondered what had happened to make him so pensive and decided it was going to be her job for the evening to cheer him up.
‘Come on, let’s really let our hair down and have some fun.’
He gave a rueful grin and took her hand. They gave themselves up to the strains of Duke Ellington songs and found they really were in step together. After a couple of dances, Alice came over and grabbed her arm from behind, pressing it hard. Lily immediately recognised the universal female message that it was time for a trip to the ladies’ room.
Lily excused herself, agreeing to another drink as she sent Doug off to the bar.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked Alice when they were in the sanctity of the ladies’ room. Her head was spinning a little with the dancing and the alcohol.
‘It’s my feet.’
‘What’s wrong with them?’
‘They’re too big,’ Alice bemoaned, looking down at them and curling her toes upwards.
Lily burst out laughing.
‘It’s all right for you, you’ve got size five, mine are size seven. They’re always getting in the way and he’s really nice. I keep treading on his feet, it’s a disaster!’
‘Tell all,’ Lily said, smiling as she turned with a wobble to adjust her hair in the mirror. She did not need another drink.
The young soldier was from Edinburgh and had, according to Alice, the most gorgeous Sco
ttish accent. He was naturally known as Scottie and had a wonderful sense of humour that had kept Alice in giggles all evening, but the dancing had been fraught with danger and she was worried she had broken his toe.
‘He was hobbling off to the bar. I don’t think he’ll come back.’
‘Yes he will. I saw the way he looked at you; he likes you. Anyway, there’s only one way to find out. Off you go,’ Lily said as she propelled her friend back into the fray.
Doug was waiting with two glasses in his hands where she had left him, and Scottie was hovering nearby. Lily did not say anything but just pushed Alice forward.
Lily grinned as she watched Alice stick her bottom out so that her feet were pushed slightly backwards. She looked very ungainly, but Scottie seemed not to notice. Viv passed by with her partner and looked at Alice and then quizzically at Lily, who just smiled and shook her head in mock despair.
There was not much time for conversation, so Lily just threw herself into the joy of dancing with a tall, handsome man who knew how to lead her effortlessly around the hall. The gin had definitely gone to her head and by the time he reached down to kiss her, she was happy to lift up her face and close her eyes.
‘Can I see you back to your digs?’ he asked.
‘What time is it?’ Lily said, propelled into reality.
‘Ten past nine.’
‘Oh hell, I’ve got to go. Where are the others?’
Viv, Marion and Alice were all by the cloakroom, ready in their coats. Marion looked cross.
‘Where have you been? We’ve been waiting for ages. If you make us late, we’ll be in such trouble.’
Lily quickly found her cloakroom ticket and pushed it towards the girl behind the desk. She was still putting her coat on as she ran towards the door. Doug was waiting for her.
‘Sorry, got to go,’ she panted. ‘Going to be in trouble. Maybe next time . . .?’
She trailed off, shrugged apologetically and raced off into the dark. The other three were already ahead of her.
‘That’s a promising romance nipped in the bud,’ Lily thought. ‘I’m like blooming Cinderella and my Prince Charming is back there, abandoned and bewildered. Oh, will I ever get it right?’
The four girls ran full pelt back to Mrs Porter’s house, giggling as Alice pounded her feet determinedly on the pavement.
‘Look at them,’ she gasped. ‘I could march to Africa and back with these feet, but they can’t find their way across a dance floor without causing death and destruction.’
They burst open the front door to find Mrs Porter purposefully coming out of the kitchen into the hall, a huge fob of keys in hand. She stopped when she saw them bunched together in the hall and pursed her lips.
‘Just made it, I see. Shut that blackout, quick.’ She manoeuvred Lily out of the way to turn the key in the lock. ‘Honestly, you lot are more trouble than a pile of Germans. I just thank God my Polly is married with three young ‘uns and not out there chasing men.’
Chapter 14
Danny’s convoy was now in open desert and a prime target for enemy aircraft. A rumour was going round that tank transporter operatives were being killed faster than infantry because they were almost impossible to miss. Since he had dived under the fuselage, the convoy had been attacked on a regular basis. Only two days ago, a bomb had dropped on the transporter in front of Danny. The debris had scattered for 100 yards in all directions and he had had to cower behind the huge wheels to avoid being hit by shrapnel and bits of metal. The driver had fortunately been in the latrines at the time, so emerged from the roughly erected tarpaulin to see his machine being blown to smithereens. Despite his usual reasoning that fate had once more decided to let him live, Danny was having nightmares and now when he wanted to write to Lily, he struggled to even hold a pen. He laid his left hand on top of his shaking right and tried to reason with himself. Maybe he was feeling more weak than usual because he was suffering from soldier’s blight, he decided. He was certainly spending far too much time in the latrines. He took hold of the pen more firmly.
‘I will beat this,’ the soldier told the desert around him. Danny settled into the uncomfortable position against the wheel arch and started to write.
20th March, 1943
Dear Lily,
How is life in good old Blighty? I do hope you’re finding time to have some fun. Not too much, mind you! You must be trained by now. I often wonder whether I’ll see you popping up out here. Some WAAFs have been posted nearby so I keep my eye out for you. It would be good to see your smiling face; it’s not been much fun here recently. I bet you look really important in your uniform. The 3Js are still in one piece, I’m glad to say, but I’ll be pleased when we’re on the move again. We don’t seem to be getting very far. The heat’s unbearable and there’s very little shade. This is my third year at this game. I can’t believe it. The time flies when we are in action and drags really slowly when we’re sat about, but we keep each other going with stories, some of them, I suspect, aren’t true, but they make us laugh. I’m thinking of making up stories about some glamorous life back home but, truth be told, I’d just be glad to have my life as a salesman back. I find the skills come in useful though. I’m becoming an expert at haggling! I now have it off to a fine art and can wangle three ciggies for a small amount of tea. We’re allowed to talk to the men, but we don’t see many women out here and those we do see scurry past us like we’re the devil . . . you wait till they meet the Americans! You’ll be getting them there soon, I suspect, now they’ve finally decided to join the party. Then I will worry about you! All those Yanks strutting around, bribing you girls with nylons. You just watch them and don’t believe a word they say!
So, time for a brew, I think. Look after yourself.
Love,
Danny
He breathed deeply; that was better. It always helped to write letters to Lily, not only because it brought a war-free time into focus but also because he felt he could share some of his everyday life with her. She was living a completely different war, but a war in the services nonetheless. His letters to his mum had to be so studiously casual and vague so as not to worry her, whereas with Lily, he knew they were both going through extraordinary experiences and it helped to write a little about what was going on, even if the truth was hidden behind platitudes and banter. To dole out advice made him feel as if he was a man in control of something, although in reality, he grinned to himself, he had never been in control with that self-assured young lady.
The grin turned into a grimace as he was suddenly doubled up in pain. He was going to have to go back to the medical tent. The hot sun and unclean water were wreaking havoc on his constitution and he was losing weight at an alarming rate.
He made a request to the orderly for yet another supply of diarrhoea tablets, but all he got was an order to go immediately to the medical officer.
‘Got the runs?’ the MO asked him.
‘Yessir’
‘How long have you had them?’
‘Three weeks, Sir.’
‘Eating?’
‘Not really, Sir.’
‘Hmm. Sick bay for you, I think.’
Danny’s heart sank. Sick bay was a boiling hot tent with nothing to do all day but read the same magazines that had been passed around for three years.
‘I feel fine, Sir’
‘Seven days in sick bay,’ came the unsympathetic reply as he dismissed Danny with a wave of his hand.
In fact, once Danny was offered no choice, his body gave in to the weakness that had been threatening to engulf him for nearly a month. He slept for hours on end and struggled with the stomach aches that doubled him up in the latrines for hours.
Fed on weak tea, mashed potato and eggs, he finally stopped losing weight and the symptoms subsided, but his boredom did not.
Jenkins and Jones visited him after five days but the tales they had to tell did not make Danny feel any better. He had missed some fierce fighting and his two friends, while ma
king jokes and minimising the drama, had obviously been shaken by the experiences. Eddie, in particular, looked a little pale. It was a challenging transition going from teaching in a grammar school in Bideford to being just behind the front lines.
Danny threw off his covers in exasperation.
‘And I’m lying around here, being useless while all of you lot are taking on the Hun. It’s ridiculous. Orderly,’ he shouted across the ward.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ the man in the white coat said, bustling towards him and putting a restraining hand on his arm. At that exact moment, Danny swayed and the orderly reached forward to grab him.
‘You’re not going anywhere just yet, Jackson.’ Frank said. ‘You’d be a liability. We don’t need you. We can manage on our own you know.’
Danny sank back, overcome by weakness.
‘No you can’t. You’ll get into trouble without me to keep you in order,’ he muttered.
‘Stop being so bloody heroic. You’re hardly going to frighten the enemy in this state, are you?’
Danny watched his two friends leave the tent laughing and joking. He felt like an outsider. While he recuperated, he should have been able to enjoy the rest, after all he had been involved in a flat-out war for more than two years now, but he couldn’t. He just felt isolated from his mates and as if he was missing out on the action. To occupy himself he wrote to Lily again.
26th March, 1943
Dear Lily,
I’m stuck in sick bay with a stomach bug and am feeling very sorry for myself. As you know, I hate being ill. Remember the pneumonia I had last winter that you called a head cold. I knew I was dying but you were very unsympathetic, as I recall. Well, I would like to worry you with tales of anguish and torment, but apparently I am expected to survive, which is a shame since I had hoped you would be wracked with remorse and would spend the rest of your life in widow’s weeds in recompense for the dreadful way you treated this poor, ailing soldier. But, the fact is, I actually ate some meat today and I may, possibly, make it through. I’ve had a week of sitting around on my backside, chatting up the nurses and being generally demanding, but now they are all bored with me and have moved on to chaps who really deserve a bit more attention. This is obviously a blow to my pride and means I will have to skulk out of here within the next 24 hours back to the holiday camp that is my everyday life.