Victory for the East End Angels

by Rosie Hendry

  Turning the corner at the end of the road, three soldiers walking abreast across the width of the pavement almost bumped into them, just managing to swerve out of their way at the last moment but making Frankie and Rose jump.

  ‘I beg your pardon, ladies,’ the tallest one said, swaying slightly and giving off a strong smell of beer. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘We’re fine.’ Frankie smiled at them. ‘Honestly, no ’arm done.’

  ‘Let us buy you a drink to apologise,’ the soldier said.

  ‘There’s no need, and we’re on duty in the morning so we need to have a clear head,’ Frankie said.

  The soldier laughed, his two friends joining in. ‘We’re not worrying about tomorrow, we’re just enjoying today, aren’t we, lads?’ He leaned closer to her, his beery breath strong as he whispered, ‘We shouldn’t even be out here, we should be back with the others in West Ham football stadium, but we got out.’ He smiled broadly and put his finger to his lips and made an exaggerated shushing motion. ‘They’re trying to round us all up again, but they’ll have trouble getting us while there’s still some beer to be had – we’re just off to another pub.’ He looked at his friends who nodded in agreement. ‘Can you point us in the right direction then, if you’re sure about not coming with us?’

  ‘Look out!’ One of the other soldiers grabbed the arm of the one who’d been talking to them and pointed down the street back towards the picture house where two policemen were walking in their direction. ‘About turn, lads.’

  The three of them turned and hurried off as best they could back the way they’d come in a bid to preserve their freedom for a little while longer. Watching them go, Frankie felt sorry for them. They, like thousands of other troops, had arrived in London over the past few days and were now corralled together in places like West Ham football stadium or camped out on Wanstead Flats. According to Sparky who knew all the goings-on around here better than anyone, they were waiting, poised for whatever was soon to come. Everyone had seen the troops arriving, military vehicles filling the streets, merging with the London traffic, and people were now waiting expectantly, knowing something was up but not quite sure what or exactly when, only that it must be soon. It was no wonder that the soldiers had wanted to escape and enjoy themselves while they still could because who knew what they’d be facing, and it was certain that not all of them would be coming back.

  ‘Do you think they’ll go back to the stadium?’ Rose asked as they crossed over the road and headed back towards Matlock Street.

  ‘I expect so; if they really wanted to go AWOL, the last thing they’d do is wander around the East End drinking in pubs – they’d get themselves as far away from here as possible. They’re just out enjoying themselves, making the most of it while they can and will either get picked up by military police or constables, or end up falling asleep in a pub and be found that way. Good luck to them.’

  Frankie’s thoughts went to Alastair, as they so often did. Was he somewhere nearby waiting with his unit? There was no way of knowing and frustratingly, even if he was just a short distance away, perhaps camped out on Wanstead Flats even, there was no possibility of seeing him. He could be nearby yet untouchable as far as the army was concerned – they paid no heed to the wants of their soldiers and their wives, the army and its needs always came first. Frankie wished it was different, she’d only managed to see him once since their honeymoon and she would so dearly love to see him before he went.

  Chapter 18

  Winnie couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know what was wrong, but her gut feeling told her that something wasn’t right, she felt unsettled and anxious, her mind refused to be still and let sleep claim her. Trixie, who slept on a blanket on the floor beside Winnie’s bed, didn’t have her mistress’s problem. She had soon dropped off to sleep not long after they’d come up to bed a little after ten o’clock, and had been snuffling gently in her sleep, Winnie imagined Trixie dreaming of chasing squirrels in the park.

  Winnie was pondering over whether to get up and make some cocoa in the hope that it would help her finally settle down when Trixie woke with a start, leapt out of her bed and dashed over to the window, pushing her way through the heavy velvet curtains and scrabbling at the blackout beyond.

  ‘Trixie, whatever’s the matter?’ Winnie threw off her covers and hurried over to see what was upsetting her. ‘Come on, it’s all right, come back to bed, we’re on shift in the morning and need to get some sleep.’ She bent down to pick up Trixie but to her surprise she growled at her, something that she’d rarely ever done before, and continued to scrape at the blackout curtain, desperate to get to the other side of it.

  ‘What on earth has got into you?’ Winnie pulled the blackout curtains aside and Trixie immediately calmed down, her golden fur looking strangely grey in the pale moonlight shining down from the full moon hanging like a lantern over London. It was then that Winnie heard the noise, the unmistakable sound of planes getting closer by the moment. Trixie must have heard them coming long before her. A wave of panic hit her: there’d been no air-raid siren to warn them of bombers, but then she realised that the planes weren’t making the noise that she’d come to dread from hearing it so often during the Blitz, the voom, voom sound made by the enemies’ unsynchronised engines. These planes were singing a far sweeter thrum – they must be Allied planes, the RAF’s, or American Army Air Force’s.

  Peering up into the sky, she could see squadrons of planes going over, their black shapes silhouetted against the moonlight where the clouds parted. There were hundreds of them, and they were all heading southwards. Winnie’s heart skipped a beat. Was this the invasion they’d all been waiting for, had it finally begun? And if it had, then Mac would be up there somewhere, on his way to parachute into enemy territory. She suddenly felt sick. Trixie, sensing her mistress’s despair, turned her attention away from the planes and nudged at Winnie’s hand, trying to bring her comfort. She bent down and scooped the little dog up into her arms, burying her face in her soft fur.

  A soft knocking on her door made her turn as the door opened and Bella’s face peeped around it. ‘Oh, you’re awake.’ She came into the room and hurried over to the window looking up at the sky. ‘Did the planes wake you?’

  ‘No, not me, I couldn’t get to sleep, but they woke Trixie. What time is it?’

  ‘Just after midnight,’ Bella said, peering up at the swarm of planes still going over. ‘This must mean the invasion has begun.’

  Winnie nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. ‘And Mac must be up there somewhere . . . ’ Her voice caught, and she had to swallow a sob down before it burst out. She took a moment to gather herself. ‘I feel so hopeless down here, there’s nothing I can do to protect him from what he’s about to face, I . . . ’

  Bella put her arm around Winnie’s shoulders. ‘I know, it’s hard to think of what they’re going into . . . all we can do is wait and hope.’ She paused, her eyes drawn to the planes again. ‘If it’s any help, those men up there are going with all the hopes and prayers of their families and people of this country behind them.’

  Winnie leaned her head on Bella’s and the two of them stood in the window watching as the planes went over, wishing with all their hearts that wherever they were heading in enemy territory, they would make it through and be able to come home to their families one day.

  It was a wonder that any work at all had been done at Station 75 that morning, as every crew member was full of talk about the waves of planes that had gone over in the middle of the night, most having heard or seen the armada. There’d been an announcement on the eight o’clock news that morning, that the Allies had given advance warning of an aerial attack for coastal areas of Hitler’s Fortress Europe. Target areas to be bombed had been warned to evacuate by leaflets dropped from Allied planes, and people advised to make for open country well away from target towns. Now they all knew that the invasion had begun for sure.

  The announcement on the wireless that the attack had started wa
s both a relief and a worry, Winnie thought. Finally, after years of waiting since the retreat at Dunkirk, the Allies were striking back at the occupied countries, but with Mac a part of it, it felt bittersweet. Winnie imagined the people living in those areas by the French coast panicking, and their scramble to get to safety, but perhaps they would be glad that at last the occupying enemy might be ousted.

  ‘Winnie, do you realise you’ve spent at least the last ten minutes cleaning that one windowpane?’ Frankie asked.

  Her friend’s voice brought her attention back to what she should be doing. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise, I was just thinking.’

  Frankie smiled sympathetically, took the rag out of Winnie’s hand and dropped it in the bucket of soapy water. ‘Come on, it’s nearly midday and everyone’s gathering to hear the news, we don’t want to miss it.’ She put her arm through Winnie’s and marched her up to the common room which was noisy with chatter as everyone was giving their opinion and thoughts about the attack and were eager to know what was going on. Many of them had family or friends who would be involved with the invasion and were naturally worried and anxious for any snippet of information.

  ‘Shhhh, you lot!’ Sparky said, turning on the wireless set to give it time to warm up before the news started.

  Bella was sitting on the sofa next to Rose and the two of them budged up to make room for Winnie and Frankie.

  Station Officer Steele appeared in the doorway of her office just as the clock hands moved round to twelve and the room fell silent as the wireless crackled into life and the BBC Home Service announcer introduced a special bulletin.

  The atmosphere of the common room was electric as the words ‘D-Day has come. Early this morning, the Allies began the assault . . . ’ were read out. Winnie closed her eyes and concentrated hard on every word that the newsreader said as he talked about how the Allied armies were landing along the northern coast of France and how General Montgomery was in command of them. As he read out Eisenhower’s words – ‘Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well-trained, well-equipped and battle hardened. He will fight savagely . . . ’ – it made her stomach clench at the thought of what Mac would be facing. He wasn’t there to fight, only to help the injured, but that offered no guarantee of his safety in the heat of battle. Hearing that paratroops had landed and met with stiff fighting was almost too much to bear. It was only with great determination that she stayed where she was instead of rushing out of the room. She clasped her hands tightly together as if she were holding on to her self-control in her grasp.

  A warm hand touched hers and she opened her eyes to see Bella looking closely at her as the common room erupted into noisy chatter at the end of the broadcast.

  ‘Come on.’ Bella pulled her up to standing and led her to the women’s rest room where the quietness seemed all the more pronounced after the noise of the common room. ‘Right, sit yourself down and take some slow, steady breaths. Frankie’s gone to make some sweet tea for you.’

  ‘I’m fine, there’s no need to fuss.’

  ‘Just do as you’re told for once and sit down.’ Bella pushed her towards a pile of mattresses. ‘Sit.’

  ‘All right, all right, but really, there’s no need.’ Winnie sat down.

  ‘Looking at your face, which has gone the colour of Mrs Connelly’s dumplings, I’d say you’re in shock and upset, and it’s not surprising after hearing that. No doubt many wives, mothers and sisters are feeling the same if their menfolk are involved in the invasion.’ Bella looked at her sympathetically. ‘So just take a few minutes to let the news sink in.’

  The door opened and Trixie came scurrying in, throwing herself into Winnie’s arms, and she hugged the little dog to her, glad of her solid warmth.

  ‘Tea’s up.’ Frankie followed behind with a tray of steaming cups. ‘The boss said you were to have some sugar in your tea, so that’s yours on the left.’ She nodded at the cup at one end of the tray.

  Winnie took the cup of tea and cradled her fingers around it. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Well it’s a lot more peaceful in here,’ Frankie said. ‘There’s a right debate going on out there about how the Allies will get on.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘You know Sparky, he’s revelling in it and no doubt we’ll be getting day-by-day accounts as soon as he gets his newspapers.’

  Winnie did her best to smile, she knew her friends were trying their best to protect and support her, but there was nothing any of them could do or say which was anything other than surface comfort. All she could do now was hope, along with thousands of others, as they waited for news of their loved ones going into battle. They had to trust that those in charge of the invasion knew what they were doing.

  Chapter 19

  Frankie watched two-year-old Sylvia pile wooden bricks on top of each other, thinking how innocent and carefree the little girl was, she had no idea of the momentous happenings that were going on today. She might have a father who at this moment was battling his way onto French soil but she was completely oblivious to it, unlike the adults at the nursery who, unsurprisingly, seemed distracted today. She’d been glad to escape from Station 75 to do her voluntary work here at the nursery, as she’d been doing every week since they’d moved on to the new twenty-four-hour shift system. It was a welcome distraction from what was happening. The invasion was all anyone wanted to talk about at work, crew members mulling over what was happening, topping up their knowledge by listening avidly to every wireless news bulletin they could, debating over what might be happening. It was a vitally important turning point of the war, but Frankie’s take on it invariably focused on Alastair and where he was among it all. That made for worrying thoughts. He wouldn’t have gone over in the first wave like Winnie’s Mac, who’d be with the fighting soldiers as they battled to get a foothold. Nevertheless Alastair would be heading that way, and very soon, if he hadn’t gone already.

  Sylvia carefully placed the last brick on top of the stack and paused, her hand just inches from it. Then she grinned at Frankie before knocking it over, her giggles ringing out as the bricks tumbled down. Frankie laughed with her, unable to resist her infectious, delightful giggles – spending time playing with the little girl was proving to be a much-needed tonic.

  Her two hours at the nursery passed quickly and as Frankie wheeled her bicycle out of the gate to head back to Station 75, she had to halt to avoid running into a woman hurrying along the pavement pushing a pram.

  The woman stopped at the sight of Frankie. ‘If you’re planning on goin’ that way,’ she nodded her head back the way she’d come from, ‘you ain’t going to get anywhere in a hurry. The roads are jammed with army trucks all heading down to the ports, they’re jam-packed, the medical ones ’ave even got beds strapped on the side.’

  Frankie’s stomach knotted. Medical trucks – was Alastair among them? ‘How’d you know they’re medical ones?’

  ‘’Cos of the red cross on the truck doors, of course.’ The woman sighed. ‘They’ll be needin’ as many of them as they can with our boys going in to fight.’ The baby started to wake up, making grizzling sounds which the woman responded to by rocking the pram to and fro. ‘I’d better get going, she’s due for a feed soon and I want to get ’ome before she starts to cry.’ She smiled at Frankie and hurried off.

  If the medical trucks were heading for the port, Alastair could well be among them, but she had no idea where he’d be leaving from – it could be just down the road or from any other port in the country. Frankie chewed her bottom lip; she should be returning to Station 75, they were only allowed two hours away to do voluntary work . . . but if there was a chance to see him, however small . . . the idea was calling to her, niggling at her, because even a tiny chance was better than none and, with the prospect of not knowing when she might see him again, she had to grab whatever opportunity came her way. Her mind made up she climbed onto her bike and pushed off, pedalling fast in the opposite direction to Station 75, grateful that the nursery was in Stepney and not far from t
he docks.

  It didn’t take her long to reach the convoy heading towards West India docks. The army vehicles were going slow, almost bumper to bumper as they packed the streets leading down to the dockyard. People out shopping stood watching them, waving and cheering at the men as they passed by. Frankie realised it was going to be impossible to get through on her bicycle and dismounted, looking around for a good place to leave it. Spotting an alleyway leading to the back of a butcher’s she pushed it down there and leaned it against the wall before hurrying into the shop, glad of her uniform to avoid being told off by the queue of East End housewives who were waiting their turn to get their rations.

  ‘Is it all right if I leave my bike in your alleyway?’ she asked the butcher who was wrapping up some meat in paper. ‘It’s an emergency of sorts.’

  He looked up at her. ‘Course it is, ducks.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She hurried out of the door and ran along the line of army trucks, looking for medical ones.

  ‘You coming with us, darlin’?’ a soldier shouted out from the back of a packed lorry.

  She shook her head and smiled at him as she ran past. There was a definite sense of purpose and excitement in the air: this was what the country had been waiting for, what these men had been training for, and now that D-Day was here, they were finally on their way.

  Further along the column of trucks she spotted the familiar Red Cross symbol painted on the doors of several lorries, each of them packed to the gunwales with equipment and, like the woman had told her, had beds strapped onto their sides. There were also packed tents piled onto the canvas tops and men hanging on at the back as best they could. She hurried along to reach them and stopped at the cab of the first one, peering in at the four men sitting inside, but none of them were Alastair, and he wasn’t in the two medical trucks in front either. Bitter disappointment welled up in her, she knew it had only been a tiny chance, but even so she’d desperately hoped that it might come true.