by Tania Crosse
Ralph’s forehead pleated. ‘I’m not sure I fancy you travelling alone nowadays, Mrs Hillier. The trains are crammed full of soldiers, and they’re not all true English gentlemen. And the railways are sitting targets for German bombers. They’re the country’s lifeblood, which is why people like Penny’s husband are so important and almost in as much danger as people in the forces.’
‘Yes, I realise that,’ Meg sighed. ‘But even if I can’t see you, at least it means you’ll be safe for a while longer, and by then, well, who knows?’
‘The war won’t be over,’ Ralph told her gravely. ‘But at least I’ll be a lot better trained than some of the poor devils in these dog fights that are starting over the Channel. Some of them have only had about sixteen weeks’ training, and last hardly any time before they’re shot down. But our air power and our training are rapidly improving, and if we don’t stop Hitler now, the next thing we know, he’ll be invading us.’
‘I don’t think Mr Churchill’s going to let that happen,’ Meg smiled wryly. ‘And we’re all trying to carry on as much as possible as if everything’s the same. You know, the village committee wondered about having the annual summer fête next month, but Mrs C insisted that it goes ahead. And all the profits raised are going to the Spitfire Fund, so she wants to make it even bigger and better. I’ve been doing some smaller paintings for the raffle, and a couple of bigger ones for an auction. People are giving all sorts of things.’
‘Really? Well, that’s good. Pulling together, just like Churchill wants. But I don’t want to spend all my leave hearing about the village fête.’ Ralph pulled up the cuff of his uniform jacket to consult his watch. ‘I don’t suppose you fancy an afternoon nap, do you?’
His grin was half bashful, half teasing. Meg pretended to slip from his grasp, but danced about him until she let him catch her hand again.
‘Let’s not run,’ she gasped. ‘If anyone sees us, they’ll realise straight away what we’re—’
‘I don’t care if they do. The sooner I get those clothes off you, the happier I’ll be!’
He slapped her behind and she squealed with laughter as they ran towards the cottage. Thimble had just slipped inside with them before Ralph shut the door and snapped the Yale lock closed.
‘Now, you, dog, can stay down here,’ he said sternly, ‘while your mistress and I go for a snooze.’
And then, eyes shining, he swept Meg into his arms and carried her, breathless with desire, up the stairs.
Fourteen
‘Can anyone else hear that?’
It was late afternoon on Saturday 7th September. It had been such a lovely day that Clarrie and Nana May had decided they ought to make the most of the good weather while it lasted. Instead of tea, there was going to be a picnic outside. The summer had been glorious, and it seemed incongruous that the country was at war. But it most definitely was.
The six weeks or so since Ralph and Bob’s visit had been fraught with activity in the skies over the Kent coast. Only a few days after Ralph’s return to his training, on the night of the twenty-eighth of July, the distant, deep-throated rumble of heavy aircraft had woken Meg from her sleep. She’d scarcely fought her way to consciousness when a couple of crashes way off shook the cottage, making the glass rattle in the windows.
Her heart jerked painfully, snapping her fully awake. She could instantly feel the pent-up energy coiled inside her and she leapt from the bed and drew back the curtains. A half-moon shone brightly, and searchlights probed the night sky while aircraft droned overhead. Shutting the curtains again, she grabbed her dressing gown and ran outside, pulling it on as she went. Thimble gambolled around her, eager for this unexpected adventure, tongue lolling out in anticipation.
In the darkness, Meg almost collided with Gabriel.
‘You all right, girl?’ he asked his daughter-in-law anxiously.
‘Yes, but… the planes. And those explosions. But I didn’t hear the air raid siren.’
‘I did, but I was already awake,’ Gabriel told her in his slow drawl. ‘Don’t sleep so well when you get to my age. But it wasn’t our village siren I heard. It was in the distance.’
‘You don’t think we need to wake everyone and get down the shelters, do you?’
‘No, not at the moment. I’m sure our own sirens will go off if need be. But maybe we should wait a while before we go back to bed, just in case. D’you fancy a cuppa?’
‘Oh, yes, please,’ Meg answered gratefully. ‘I don’t think I’d go back to sleep just yet anyway.’
‘Come on, then. The range is still quite warm, so if I open it up, it won’t take long to make some Ovaltine. Young Ed’s an avid Ovaltiney,’ Gabriel chuckled, ‘so if Mary spots any, she has to buy it!’
‘Thanks, that’d be lovely.’
Meg nodded. It wasn’t always easy to get what you wanted in the shops, even if it was something that wasn’t on ration. Thank goodness they produced so much of their own food at Robin Hill House. And Gabriel grew a wide range of herbs to make simple meals really tasty. Yet again, Meg reflected how lucky she was to be living where she was.
*
A thin slither of light was already peeping underneath the bedroom curtains before Meg finally drifted back to sleep. She didn’t usually bother with the blackout blinds, because at that time of year, it was only dusk when she went to bed so she didn’t need a light, and dawn had already broken by the time she got up again. Downstairs was a different matter, though, as she sometimes needed to turn on the light before she retired for the night, and the glowing coals from the range firebox as she banked it up could also pose a danger.
Her sleep for what remained of the night was uneasy and disturbed. She dreamt that a bomb had fallen on the main house, and that she was trying to rescue all her friends but her own legs refused to work. And then she had become Ralph, her head whirring as the plane she was piloting spun earthwards, out of control, smoke heavy with the stench of oil seeping into the cockpit, flames licking around the instrument panel…
She awoke with a start, pulse hammering. As she realised it was just a dream, she waited for her heart rhythm to return to normal before she dragged herself out of bed to start the day. But a tiny tremble persisted inside her.
Later that day, they learnt that a couple of bombs had fallen by the railway line near Edenbridge. It was the start of the war arriving right on their doorstep, making Meg wonder quite why Kent had been deemed a safe place to evacuate children to.
After that night, she decided to move back into the main house, feeling happier to share her old room with Jane rather than be alone in the cottage, even if her in-laws were right next door.
The dog fights became so widespread and intense that on several occasions, the village siren was sounded and they all had to dive down the shelters. They could hear the whining of the engines as the light fighter planes chased each other overhead, the rat-tat-tat of the guns. Thimble pushed herself against Meg in fear, and Meg took comfort in stroking her silky head. Thank God Ralph wasn’t up there. Was still training. But he would be in just as much danger when his missions began.
The fight in the skies was being called the Battle of Britain. In mid-August, three separate days of attack had seen particularly bitter dog fights over all the south-east coast when, though many British planes were downed, enemy losses far outstripped those of the RAF. Churchill made a rousing speech in the House of Commons of which one line was widely reported: Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many to so few. Over five hundred young British airmen had given their lives in June and July alone, but Fighter Command was beating back Hitler’s attempts to destroy Britain’s airfields in preparation for an invasion. But the German Fuhrer refused to accept defeat and the battle for the skies raged on. Churchill had nothing but admiration, gratitude and empathy for both Fighter and Bomber Command. But all Meg could think of was burning planes falling from the sky, engulfed in greedy, scarlet flames while smoke streaked out behind in black demoni
c ribbons.
Because of the threat of downed aircraft falling on their heads, Sofia Stratfield-Whyte refused to bring her family to her brother-in-law’s house for their usual summer visit.
‘Perry and the boys think it’d be so exciting,’ she moaned to Meg down the telephone line. ‘But just think if a Jerry plane came down in the grounds. It’d be hideous. I had enough to worry about in the last war with Perry making his sketches for the government at the Front. Oh, no, we’re staying put. It’s so much safer here in Cornwall! I don’t know why darling Clarrie and Nana don’t come down to live with us. They’d be more than welcome.’
‘Well, I’ll go and get Mrs C so that you can speak to her yourself,’ Meg answered. ‘But I don’t think she’ll want to be so far away from Mr W. And she takes her responsibilities for looking after all our evacuees very seriously.’
Meg had been right, of course. But she was as disappointed as Wig and Clarrie that Perry, Sofia and the boys wouldn’t be coming. Mrs Sofia, with her extravagant, film-star gestures and sometimes outrageous behaviour, was always fun, and Meg would miss her boisterous sons and Mr Perry, too, in his loose-fitting, bohemian garb. She found it hard to imagine him out in France in the previous war, dodging enemy fire as he drew hasty sketches to turn into official war paintings on his return to Blighty. But then she could only ever see him as an artist, and never a soldier. Mind you, apart from those already in the regular army, none of the men out there were really soldiers. Even most of the enemy were just ordinary men who’d been ordered to go and fight. Oh, what a terrible thing war was.
Two events during that August lifted everyone’s spirits, however. The first was the village fête which fortunately wasn’t interrupted by any nearby dog fight.
‘Cor, this is great!’ the twins declared, scampering about the stalls like two puppies on their first walk and launching themselves into throwing balls at the coconut shy and plunging their hands deep into the tombola drum. Cyril won a large fluffy rabbit which he shyly gave to Doris who happened to be near him. Meg smiled wryly to herself. Although Doris still expressed her worries over both her parents, being among so many friends of her own age did seem to be helping her.
With bunting fluttering in the breeze, a small cordoned-off ring for the dog show, cutest baby competition and crowning of the village princess and a little brass band playing out of time as it attempted to march around the green, the London children had never seen anything like it. As organiser-in-chief, Clarrie was delighted by its success – and the substantial sum that was raised for the Spitfire Fund, especially by the auction which was a new event and all her idea.
The other uplifting happening was Bob and Sally’s wedding on the last day of the month. More than anything, Meg’s soul flew to the moon when Ralph managed to wangle some extra leave so that he could take up the role of best man that Bob had been unable to perform for him. It was a wonderful day, a beacon of light in those dark times – even if it was now actually illegal to put icing on the outside of a cake. But deep inside everyone lingered that numbing, crushing fear that they all tried so hard not to let foam up to the surface.
‘We’re going to miss you,’ Meg told Sally, giving her friend a meaningful hug. ‘Are you sure you want to live in London? We’re not that far so you’d still be able to see Bob, and after that air raid last week—’
‘No, my place is by my husband’s side,’ Sally said wistfully, glancing across with adoring eyes at Bob who was smart in his uniform and off crutches now. ‘Bob was really chuffed when he was posted to the War Office. Made him feel really useful again, and he’ll have to do defensive training and exercises all the time, too. I’ll take my chances with the bombs, and if that raid was anything to go by, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, I’ve got my new job on the buses. I’m looking forward to that!’ she grinned.
Now, a week later, as Meg was supervising the three older girls in spreading out some rugs on the grass for the picnic tea, she wondered how Sally was getting on. She was so willing and hardworking, a breath of fresh air after Esme Carter whom she’d replaced. With her outgoing nature, everyone had taken to Sally at once, and Meg couldn’t imagine a jollier clippie on the London buses. But Meg couldn’t help worrying about both Sally and Bob, as well as Mr W, of course, and at Leslie’s words as they prepared for the picnic, their eyes all swivelled towards the sky. Meg titled her head to concentrate her hearing.
‘Sounds like an air-raid siren, only really in the distance,’ she frowned.
‘Yeah, yer right, Meggy.’ Leslie almost dropped the folding chair he was carrying. ‘Must be a raid somewhere. But far enough away so they ain’t set off the sirens here.’
‘Well, we’d better be ready to go down the shelters if they do,’ Nana May announced in an authoritative tone as she arrived beside them, going slowly with her walking stick. ‘Are we all accounted for, and has everyone got their gas mask?’
‘Bleeding hell!’ Everyone gasped at Leslie’s sudden cry. The boy knew such language wasn’t tolerated at Robin Hill House. But as all eyes turned on him, they saw his jaw drop down below the binoculars he wore permanently round his neck and which he’d trained on the skies. ‘There’s bloody dozens of ’em!’
‘Let me see.’ Cyril snatched the binoculars from his brother’s hands, nearly choking him. ‘Blimey, yer right. Bombers. And they’re… blooming heck, they’re German.’
‘What!’
A chorus of alarm ricocheted around the little group as Meg hurried to round everyone up, and every adult and child, including Gabriel, Mary and young Ed, gathered on the lawn. The picnic was forgotten as all eyes squinted in the direction Leslie had pointed in, and the binoculars were passed round in a frenzy.
‘They must be coming straight up the Thames Estuary,’ Nana May said, her wrinkled face pale. ‘They’re launching another direct attack on London!’
‘Oh, my God, Wig’s up there!’ Clarrie all but squealed.
‘Don’t worry, Clarrie dear. He’ll have gone down a shelter somewhere.’
‘’S’all right! Here come our fighter boys to chase ’em off.’
‘And the barrage balloons are coming up.’
‘But look, they’re still coming. This ain’t gonna be like the one the other week, and that was bad enough. This is gonna be a full-scale attack.’
‘Shut yer gob,’ Penny hissed behind him. ‘Can’t yer see Mrs C’s upset?’
Leslie’s face dropped, but not for long. He didn’t say a word, though, as through the binoculars they could see wave after wave of giant, threatening vultures droning towards London. White vapour trails criss-crossed the sky around them as Spitfires and Hurricanes engaged with the fighter planes escorting the bombers. The boom as the first bombs exploded was like a dull, distant thud, followed by another and another and another, endless, relentless.
‘I don’t fink we’d better have this picnic after all.’ Unexpectedly it was Penny who took charge. ‘Just in case we have ter make a dash for it.’
‘Ah-oh,’ Leslie protested in disappointment.
‘She’s right,’ Meg agreed, admiring Penny who was obviously keeping her fears for her own husband hidden. ‘Bring everything back in. Just you boys can take your tea outside if you want. But you stay right here on the lawn, and if anything changes, you come straight in to tell us. OK?’
Leslie and Cyril nodded in unison while everyone else retreated indoors. Meg could tell that Penny was trying to keep up a constant conversation – not difficult for her – in order to distract everyone, and anyway the distant, thunderous explosions were less audible from inside. But Meg noticed that scarcely a morsel of food passed Mrs C’s white, silent lips.
As darkness fell, the glare over London grew brighter as the East End dockland burned and a black pall of smoke drifted down over the Thames. And still they came, bright flashes cutting through the night sky like fireworks, the muted echo of bombs exploding every few seconds, the staccato rattle of the ack-ack guns. On such a still evening, the sou
nds travelled miles.
The atmosphere in the house was tense and eerily quiet as everyone tried to put a brave face on it. The twins, whose father they’d learnt in the rare scribbled note they received had not yet been called up, were quite exhilarated by the attack; in their youthful exuberance, not able to grasp the horror of its reality. Meg dispatched them up to their rooms to watch the horrifying spectacle from the windows. Doris huddled in a chair, arms laced about Topaz’s neck for comfort as she prayed for her mum’s safety, and Joyce and Maureen, doubtless thinking of their parents above their bakery, were trying to distract each other with a game of Snap, but breaking off each time there was an extra-loud explosion.
Penny’s young children, oblivious to what was going on, were already asleep, but everyone else felt too unnerved to go to bed. However, it was decided everyone should try to get whatever shut-eye they could, while the adults would take turns to keep watch. Just in case, as Penny put it, but they all knew what she meant.
It was some hours later when Meg felt someone gently shaking her out of a restless twilight doze. ‘Meg dear, it’s your turn.’
It only took her a moment to scrape herself from the drifting haze that was the best she’d managed in the way of sleep. Her mother-in-law’s familiar voice was strangely calming as she slid out of bed and put on her shoes. She hadn’t bothered to undress. Indeed, it had been agreed that if they had to make a dash for the shelters, it would be better to remain fully clothed.
‘Thanks, Mary. Is it still going on?’ she whispered, trying not to wake Jane in the other bed.
‘Two o’clock, and yes, it is.’
‘Good God. All those poor people. Oh, well, I’ll take over. You try and get some sleep now.’
‘I will. And Gabriel’s going to do the shift after you. You know we’ve kipped down in Bob and Ralph’s old room?’
Meg nodded. Just as she had decided she felt safer in the main house after the bombs at Edenbridge, Gabriel and Mary had decided it was better to sleep there as well for that night, at least. Young Ed was tucked up in a makeshift bed on the floor, while the older couple had taken a proper bed each.