Victory for the East End Angels

by Rosie Hendry

  ‘It feels odd going in this direction,’ Rose said, holding on to Trixie who was sitting on her lap.

  ‘I know, but whatever it is, it’s serious.’ Winnie had dealt with many such calls and always they brought with them a mixture of worry about what they were going to, but also a sense of being glad that she could pitch in and help people who desperately needed it when times were tough.

  When they reached New Cross, the devastation that met them seemed at odds with the fine, late-November Saturday afternoon, a day when people would normally be going about their business, shopping and enjoying their weekend. Winnie parked the ambulance where a policeman directed her to, pulling up behind Sparky, and they quickly got out, grabbing stretchers and their bags from the back of the ambulance.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked, approaching the policeman who was waving more ambulances to park in the row behind them.

  ‘One of them V2s hit Woolworth’s . . . ’ He paused, his face pale. ‘It was packed with Saturday shoppers, it’s completely collapsed. Be careful how you go, there’s broken glass all across the road.’

  Winnie nodded at him and turned to look at Rose, Sparky, Paterson, Frankie and Bella who’d all come over to listen to what he said. ‘Right, let’s do what we can then.’

  Making their way towards the collapsed building, Winnie thought that this had to be one of the worst incidents she’d been to. The air was still filled with grit and dust, the smell of brick plaster irritating her nose, while her feet crunched over broken glass and rubble which lay ankle-deep across the road. Cars that had been nearby had been blown apart into pieces of jagged metal, and telegraph poles had been thrown like matchsticks by the blast and lay across rooftops. But worst of all was the sight of what remained of people thrown haphazardly on the ground, some of whom had been covered with sheets of corrugated iron until they could be dealt with, from under which blood seeped out, pooling and congealing in the dust and broken glass.

  ‘Sylvia was in there!’ The loud, anguished voice made Winnie look over to where two ambulance crew stood, supporting another colleague who was sobbing hard and shouting out between heaving breaths. ‘She didn’t deserve this.’

  One of the crew saw Winnie looking. ‘One of our crew mates had gone to Woolworth’s on her dinner break, she ’eard they’d got some saucepans in and she was getting married next month . . . ’ Her voice wavered.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Winnie said, knowing from the look of the huge crater where the shop had once stood, now piled high with debris, that there was little chance that their friend would be found alive. They clearly were a close-knit crew, just as they were at Station 75, and her stomach knotted at the thought of something like this happening to her dear friends. Tears smarted in her eyes as she pictured the scene of a busy Saturday in the shop, with people queueing up to buy precious saucepans which were so rarely available these days. There would have been mothers with their children, innocent people just going about their everyday lives and then . . .

  ‘Come on.’ Frankie tugged at Winnie’s arm. ‘We can’t do anything for their friend but there are plenty of injured that need our help.’

  Winnie nodded, sniffing back her tears; she wasn’t usually so affected while she was on the job, but these days her emotions felt like they were on a knife edge. She tucked her arm into Frankie’s, glad of her friend’s steady presence, and went with her over towards where Rose and Bella were already busy tending to some injured people lying on the ground.

  ‘You all right?’ Frankie said.

  ‘Yes, just being a bit silly, you know . . . ’

  ‘Look, Winnie, if you want to go and wait in the ambulance, we’d all understand, we could gather up the casualties and you could just drive them to hospital if that’s easier. Being . . . you know . . . might make you more sensitive to all this.’ Frankie indicated with her head the devastation around them, where moans of pain and shouts from people digging through the rubble filled the air. ‘It ain’t easy dealing with this.’

  ‘I can do it!’ Winnie took a deep breath. ‘Sorry to snap at you. Thank you for the offer, but no,’ she squared her shoulders, ‘I’m here to do my job and just because I am . . . ’ she raised her eyebrows, ‘it doesn’t mean I can’t do what I’m here for any more.’

  Frankie smiled at her. ‘Fine, but just say if you do need a bit of help, all right?’ She squeezed her friend’s arm.

  ‘I’ll be fine. Come on, let’s get to work.’

  Chapter 47

  Frankie woke with a start and was just in time to see a shadow slip through the open door of the women’s rest room, closing it quietly behind her. She put out her hand to feel the mattress beside hers where Winnie had been lying but it was empty, the blanket still warm from her body. Everyone else seemed to be asleep, their even breathing showing no indication that they had been disturbed by Winnie’s exit, and she must have taken Trixie with her as the little dog always slept at the end of her bed when they were on duty.

  She lay there for a few moments pondering what to do. She’d found Winnie splashing her face with cold water in the changing room a couple of hours after they’d got back from the Woolworth’s V2 incident, clearly trying to cover up the fact that she’d been crying. Frankie had tried to talk to her then but Winnie had shrugged her off and tried to pretend that nothing was wrong; she hadn’t believed her and now, with her getting up in the middle of the night and going off, perhaps something was wrong with her. Or she might have just gone to the lavatory and be back soon. Frankie decided to wait a few minutes and if Winnie didn’t come back then she would go and find her and see what was wrong.

  She guessed at least five minutes had passed and Winnie still hadn’t returned. Frankie quietly peeled back her blanket and tiptoed over to the door, grateful for the crack of light showing underneath it to guide her way, then slipped out of the room as quietly as she could, blinking her eyes in the unaccustomed light of the common room. It was empty, apart from the figure of Sparky who was fast asleep on the sofa, snoring gently. Moving slowly so as not to disturb him, she peeped in the window of the door to the office and saw Station Officer Steele at her desk, resting her head on her arms and appearing to be asleep as well.

  Next, she tried the women’s changing room but again there was no sign of Winnie. She must have gone outside, either up on the flat roof, which was a favourite spot for crew members to go for a bit of peace and quiet when they needed to think, or out at the garages – either option would be chilly on a November night. Frankie grabbed her greatcoat from the hook and put it on, along with her scarf and hat, then made her way as quietly as she could up the stairs to the roof.

  Stepping out of the door, the sight of the beautifully clear, starlit night arching millions of miles high above London was breath-taking. One of the benefits of the blackout was that the celestial sky was now clearly visible above the city, something that she only used to see when they went hopping down in Kent every year, otherwise she’d never have known that there were so many stars up there.

  Her arrival on the roof was greeted by the pattering of paws as Trixie hurried across to greet her, wagging her tail. ‘Hello, Trix, where’s your mistress then?’

  ‘Over here,’ Winnie’s voice called from behind the chimney stack which poked up through the roof and made a comfortable place to sit against.

  Frankie went over and sat down beside her friend who was sitting with her knees up, leaning her elbows on them, looking up at the stars. ‘Couldn’t you sleep?’

  ‘No.’

  Frankie waited for her to say something else but, unusually, she stayed silent after her single-word answer. Something must definitely be up with her. ‘Why not? Are you worried about Mac?’

  Winnie stroked Trixie who had settled herself down beside her mistress. ‘No more than usual.’

  ‘What, then?’ Again, Frankie waited for an answer, but none was forthcoming. ‘For goodness sake, Winnie, what’s got into you? I know you were cryin’ earlier and now you
are getting up in the middle of the night and coming up here to sit out in the cold.’ At least her friend had had the sense to put on her greatcoat as well Frankie saw.

  Winnie sighed. ‘I can’t get the sight of those little children out of my mind. They’d gone to Woolworth’s to do some shopping with their mothers, they didn’t deserve to die like that . . . ’ Her voice cracked. ‘It’s so bloody rotten and unfair.’

  Frankie put her arm through Winnie’s, knowing just how she felt. Seeing small children pulled out from the rubble of Woolworth’s had been hard to bear, their tiny, lifeless bodies a stark reminder of the horror and wastefulness of war. There’d been no warning, no chance to get to safety, one moment they were perhaps spending their sweet ration, and the next the V2 had exploded and their lives snuffed out in an instant. ‘It was bad, but we know that nothing is fair as far as war is concerned, there ain’t no discrimination between who should die and who should live, especially with them blasted rockets. Anyone can die or be hurt by them.’

  ‘I know, but there was even a little baby killed in its pram . . .’ Winnie began to cry.

  That must really have hit home with Winnie expecting a baby of her own, Frankie thought. Perhaps it was time for her to get out of London in case she and her unborn child were unlucky enough to come into the path of a V2 rocket, but would her stubbornness and determination to remain at Station 75 stop her from considering it? Maybe she needed somebody else to suggest she should.

  Frankie took a deep breath and braced herself for her friend’s response. ‘Winnie, do you think it might be a good idea if you left London? None of us know when or where the next V2 will land. If you don’t want to do it for yourself then at least consider it for your baby. Mac would probably want you to.’ The silence that followed seemed worse than if Winnie had shouted at her. ‘What do you think?’

  Winnie turned to her. ‘What do I think? I’m surprised at you even asking me to think about it, to be honest, Frankie. I’m not leaving my job. Not for the risk of a V2 landing on me because if it does then I’m a goner and there’s nothing I can do about it. And please don’t bring Mac into this, he’s not here and I am.’

  ‘I ’ad to ask, you understand that. I didn’t think you would leave though. What does Mac think? Is he happy for you to stay working ’ere in London?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know, because I haven’t told him about the baby. That way he can’t tell me what to do – not that I’d necessarily do what he wanted anyway!’

  ‘You haven’t told him! But he should know.’

  ‘And he will when I’m ready to tell him. He’d only worry, and I want him to focus on looking after himself rather than be thinking about me.’

  Frankie sighed. ‘You always do go about things your own way, so this ain’t nothing new.’

  ‘I appreciate your concern but honestly I’m all right, just very sad about what happened today, and I’d rather be working here than anywhere else. What else would I do with myself, Frankie? I love being at Station 75 and with the way our troops are going now it can only be a matter of time before they reach Berlin and hopefully the war will be won. I want to stay here doing my bit for as long as I can until either my secret is out and the boss sacks me or the war is over and Station 75 closes.’

  ‘I understand.’ Frankie leaned her head on Winnie’s shoulder, looking up at the sky. ‘Do you think Mac and Alastair can see the same stars as us?’

  ‘Yes, the stars are the same where they are and, who knows, they might be looking up at them as well.’

  ‘When the moon is up, I always look at it and think it’s shinin’ down on Alastair too,’ Frankie said. ‘It helps.’

  ‘I know what you mean.’ Winnie sighed. ‘One day I hope they’ll both be home and we can look up at the moon with them standing beside us.’

  Chapter 48

  Bella opened the Queensberry All-Services Club programme that Stefan had bought and could hardly believe who was appearing here tonight, the twelfth of December – The American Band of the AEF, conducted by Major Glen Miller. When Stefan said he had a surprise for her she never expected something like this.

  ‘You like?’ Stefan smiled, his blue eyes twinkling.

  ‘I love it!’ Bella leaned over to kiss him. ‘Thank you, I can’t believe I’m about to watch Glenn Miller and his band playing live. I’ve listened to them so often on the wireless but to actually see them . . . ’

  Stefan kissed her hand. ‘I thought you would.’

  ‘You were right, this is the most wonderful surprise . . . ’ She paused as the musicians filed onto the stage to take up their positions. The audience fell silent, probably feeling as much in awe as she did. And when Glenn Miller joined them a few moments later, she turned to Stefan and mouthed, ‘This is marvellous,’ before returning her attention to the stage.

  Listening to Glenn Miller speaking, his soft American voice sounding so different to English accents, and the band beginning to play, Bella felt goosebumps rise up on her arms. She squeezed Stefan’s hand, holding on to it for the rest of the show. Seeing the musicians playing and hearing the music coming live, directly from their instruments was wonderful. Songs that she’d heard many times before on the wireless, seemed to have a greater depth. The trumpets, trombones and saxophones blasted out their notes with such toe-tapping vibrancy it made her want to get up and dance. Sadly, she couldn’t as the audience had to remain seated because this performance was being recorded for broadcast. She had to content herself with jiggling her feet around to the music, all the while keeping her eyes steadfastly fixed on the stage, drinking in every moment.

  Time seemed to pass so quickly and after the final song had been played, Glenn Miller signed off, closing the show and telling the audience both here and listening over the wireless to keep an eye on the papers and an ear on the radio for the time and place for the next performance. ‘Until we meet again, then, it’s good luck and goodbye.’

  Thinking that was it, Bella was delighted when the band went on to play another concert just for the audience in the club; another half an hour of spine-tingling music, ending on the famous ‘Tuxedo Junction’, which had the audience clapping loudly in appreciation.

  ‘That was one of the best things I’ve ever seen!’ Bella said, clapping so hard that her hands hurt. ‘Thank you, Stefan, for bringing me, I’ll never forget tonight.’

  He bowed his head. ‘Is my great pleasure, Bella. We stay for the dance, yes?’

  She nodded. ‘Definitely.’ Hal Kent’s band were on next, so the programme said, and she wasn’t going to turn down a chance to dance with Stefan – her days of having two left feet were far behind her. He had come into her life and literally swept her off her feet, and she loved it – and him.

  Chapter 49

  ‘Cocoa’s ready.’ Frankie put the tray of steaming mugs that she’d just filled with the hot, chocolatey drink on the table and glanced up at the clock on the wall of Station 75’s common room. ‘We’d better get a move on if we want to be up there in time.’

  ‘Here’s your coat, hat and scarf.’ Bella handed her the clothes, having fetched them from the ladies’ changing room.

  ‘Thanks.’ Frankie put on her coat, wrapping her scarf tightly around her neck and pulling on her green knitted wool beret, dressing up warmly like Bella, Winnie and Rose already had. They were all going up on the flat roof of Station 75 to see in the New Year.

  ‘Thanks for making the cocoa, Frankie.’ Winnie took a mug. ‘Come on then, ladies, time waits for no man . . . Or woman. We don’t want to miss it.’

  Grabbing their own mugs, they followed Winnie up onto the roof where the waning moon, just a day past full, shone its cold light down on the London rooftops, making the frosty night seem all the crisper and colder. The shadowy greyness wasn’t light enough to show it, but Frankie knew that their breaths would be pluming in the chill air and she was glad of the warmth from the mug that seeped through the wool of her gloves, keeping her hands warm.

  ‘How
long to go now?’ Bella asked.

  Winnie flicked on her small torch for a few seconds to look at her watch. ‘Just a couple of minutes. Then we’ll be in 1945, imagine that.’

  ‘Do you remember when we first did this?’ Frankie said. ‘It was the first New Year’s after I joined Station 75, we came up here to see in 1941, and we’ve done it every year since.’

  ‘Never thought that first time that we’d still be here doing this so many years later,’ Bella said. ‘This war’s gone on far longer than any of us expected and it’s not over yet. Do you think . . . ’

  Winnie checked her watch again. ‘It’s nearly time, about thirty seconds to go.’

  They fell silent, waiting for the seconds to tick round and the old year to pass into history and the new year to begin.

  ‘Ten, nine.’ Winnie flicked on her torch again and began to count down, the rest of them joining in with her. ‘Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year!’

  Other faint cries bringing in the new year came from the surrounding streets where people were out in pubs celebrating, but there was no ringing of church bells as there used to be.

  ‘A toast then, in best Station 75 cocoa, to 1945.’ Winnie held up her mug and the rest of them clinked their mugs against hers and each other’s before taking a sip.

  ‘What will 1945 bring us, do you think?’ Bella wondered. ‘The end of the war?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Frankie said. ‘We’re nearer now than we’ve ever been. I hope this time next year we’ll be at peace.’ And that Alastair would be with her again, she added silently.

  ‘I hope so too, you know I have a good reason to want it.’ Winnie paused for a moment. ‘Rose, I think it’s time I told you something, we work closely together and I should tell you.’