by Annie Murray
‘If you like. Not everyone’s friendly though, you know. They’re not too happy to have their park taken over by the army!’
‘I thought it was a racecourse?’
‘Used to be. They used to hang people there at one time as well!’
‘Ooh they daint, did they?’ Molly pretended to shudder. ‘You’re scaring me now.’
She nuzzled close to Billy and he put his arm round her shoulders.
‘Maybe we’ll see a headless ghost!’ he chuckled.
‘Don’t say that. I get scared easily!’
‘You? I don’t believe yer!’
Over in the deep shadows of the huts she turned to him, inviting him to put his arms round her.
‘Blimey Molly – you’re hot stuff, ain’t yer?’ He sounded taken aback.
‘There’s no need to be like that,’ she said coyly. ‘I just like a bit of a cuddle, that’s all.’ She felt the excitement of it, the need to conquer him, mixed with the knowledge that that was what he wanted, to reach this point, what they always wanted. Everything else was just a preparation, a step towards it.
She pressed herself against him and raised her face to his. Billy seemed thrown by this.
‘C-can I kiss yer then?’
‘What’re you waiting for?’ she said, sliding her hand up and down his back. He was solid and strong.
‘I s’pose I’m used to taking things a bit more slow, like,’ he said.
‘What’s the use in waiting?’ she said. ‘Give us a kiss, Billy.’
His lips reached down for hers and in moments they were kissing passionately, pressed up against the damp planks of the hut. Molly clung to him, pulling him tighter, pressing against him, all her instincts primed to excite him, to give him what was expected.
‘Jesus,’ he gasped, freeing his lips after a few minutes. There was, if she had been able to hear it, something in his tone which was not pleasure but alarm, revulsion even. But she did not choose to hear it.
‘There,’ she said. ‘How’s that then, Billy?’
She was so close up to him that she could tell he was very excited. While still just in command of himself, he said, ‘D’yer want. . . ? I mean, I didn’t expect . . .’
Molly said nothing, unsure what to say, but smiled back at him, which Billy took as a sign of permission.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, unable to help himself. And his hands were struggling with her then, the tough uniform making her like a parcel that was frustrating to unwrap. He wrestled with her buttons, breathing fast, hands fumbling for her breasts. He managed to free one breast from the restraining army brassiere and nuzzled her hungrily, his hands moving down, tugging her skirt up. And Molly up until that moment was with him, leading him on, even with the cold air on her skin, but then baulked when he started on the skirt, trying to fumble down there . . . No one should be touching you . . . It was as if a freezing wind rushed through her mind, chilling any sense of involvement with him. She froze, suddenly outside it all, seeing his blond head at her breast in the moonlight, his desperate fumbling . . .
‘Stop it!’ she hissed. ‘Not that! Don’t do that!’
She tugged her skirt back down so emphatically that she startled him.
‘What?’ It was as if she had slapped him. ‘What d’yer mean? I thought you wanted . . . I mean, the way you was carrying on . . .’
‘No – not that. Not all the way!’ she said, closing her clothes, wanting now more than anything to get away from him. Chasing them was one thing, reeling them in. Cold, physical reality was another.
‘Don’t tell me you’re a cowing virgin now, after all that come on!’
‘What if I am? What’s it to you?’
Billy laughed contemptuously. ‘You’re just another f***ing tease. Go on – get lost. I know your sort.’
‘Oh Billy!’ She was stung by his rejection of her. After all, she’d given him a good time, hadn’t she? What the hell was the matter with him? ‘Don’t be like that,’ she wheedled. ‘I thought we was going to be friends?’
‘Friends? Friends is one thing, Molly – you’ve got a pretty queer notion of just being friends is all I can say.’ Billy started walking, fast, back across the dark field, Molly struggling to keep up.
‘I’m sorry, Billy – I daint mean to upset yer . . .’
‘Well you have – all right? I don’t like being mucked about with.’ He strode on, furiously. ‘I’ll walk you back to your hut, Molly – which one is it?’
‘J,’ she said.
‘Right – but that’s it then. You’re a bit too fast for my liking.’
‘But I told yer – I daint mean—’ she panted after him. ‘We can take it more slowly, Billy – whatever you want.’
He ignored her and soon they reached Hut J.
‘Right,’ he said, standing up very straight, on his dignity. ‘I’ll see yer then.’
‘Ain’t you going to give me a goodnight kiss?’
‘No. Don’t think so. Cheers, Molly.’
He turned to go. Molly pushed the door of the hut open and made sure to say in a loud but seductive voice, ‘Goodnight, Billy – thanks for a lovely evening.’
He was striding away and didn’t turn round again.
Molly went inside and walked jauntily along the middle of the rows of beds. Some of the others looked up at her. Win and Ruth were on Ruth’s bed, looking through some book or other.
‘Evening, ladies!’ Molly said mockingly.
‘Do you see what I see?’ a voice said. Molly wasn’t sure who it was – one of the snooty ones by the door. ‘I think an officer’s groundsheet just walked in.’
‘More like lower rank’s groundsheet,’ another suggested, and there were giggles.
Molly turned round. ‘Least I know one end of a fella from another – not like some of yer!’
Lena was sitting against the head of her bed, her knees drawn up, hair in plaits, glowering at Molly.
‘What’s up with you?’ Molly asked.
‘Nothing,’ Lena said sulkily. Molly knew it was because she hadn’t had her expected letter from Paul. Anyone’d think he was her flaming boyfriend, not her brother! Even Cath seemed tired and grumpy.
‘Not you as well!’ Molly fumed, unbuttoning her jacket. ‘What the bleedin ’ell’s got into everyone tonight?’
Twelve
Molly did not sleep well that night. She couldn’t settle and had horrible dreams. In one, Phoebe Morrison was furiously ordering her to leave the army and go home. She jerked awake in the darkness, feeling desolate, as if she had betrayed herself. Then Billy’s face floated into her mind’s eye, his eyes full of disgust. She felt wretched and confused about what had happened last night. Why did she spoil everything? Nothing ever seemed to turn out well with men: she always made a mess of it. As often as she could she just shrugged it off, but this time she genuinely liked Billy – not like George and some of the others who were a bad lot anyway. Why had she forced things to go like that, to upset him so badly?
As she lay there, she began to hear the distant scraping, rattling sounds of coke being shovelled into the boiler for the ablutions hut. Her heart fluttered. An impulse seized her. Slipping out of bed, she hurried into her clothes and crept stocking-footed along between the beds. Everyone else seemed to be asleep. There was almost another hour to go before the reveille bugle which would set up groans along the rows of beds. Molly slipped her shoes on. It was still dark outside, clear and frosty, and the cold air stung her nostrils.
Stepping outside, she was startled to find another figure heading straight towards her, head down.
‘Cath?’ she hissed. She hadn’t seen that Cath wasn’t in her bed.
Cath jumped violently.
‘God, Molly!’
‘Where’ve yer been?’ Molly’s scrambled brain somehow thought Cath had been to find Billy.
‘Well where d’you think?’ Cath pointed back at the latrines.
‘Oh yes, course! That’s where I’m off to – had too muc
h to drink last night!’
Cath nodded, barely seeming to hear her, and went back inside. She wasn’t looking too well. Molly hurried across the stiff grass towards the sounds, hoping it was Billy there this morning and that he hadn’t been replaced.
In the pre-dawn greyness she was relieved to find Billy, with a lamp, bent over his shovel and a pile of coke. He jumped, startled to find someone appearing beside him.
‘Blimey, Molly!’ He stopped digging, laying a hand on his heart. ‘What the hell’re you doing creeping about this early?’
‘I came to see you, course, Billy.’ She spoke softly, wanting to get back on the old footing with him. ‘I just wanted to see yer. Say sorry – you know – if I upset yer last night.’
His expression was severe and not especially welcoming.
‘Well,’ he spoke sourly. ‘It’s in the past, I s’pose. But at least I know now.’
‘Know what, Billy?’ She leaned on the low, jutting piece of wall that separated them.
He looked nastily at her. ‘Know what you’re like. You’re all right in yer way, Molly – to talk to and that. You’re a bit of a laugh, I won’t say you aren’t. But you’re not my type in the end. It’s left a bad taste, Molly, that it has.’
‘Look, I’m sorry,’ she said miserably. ‘I never meant it to be like that. I really like you, Billy. What if . . .’ She brightened, tried wheedling. ‘How about we go out tonight? Give it another chance? Would you like that?’
He stood up and leaned on the handle of the shovel. ‘No, to be frank, I wouldn’t. Just leave it, Molly. Go and try your charms out on some other sucker. I’m the sort that likes my girl a bit less forward than that. Just leave me alone – all right?’
‘But—’
‘Go on, Molly.’ He jerked his head disgustedly. ‘Get lost.’
‘You two-faced bastard!’ Molly shrieked. Rage and shame swelled in her chest and she knew she was not far from tears. ‘You act like you’re my friend and then what do I get?’
Billy came urgently towards her, laying a heavy hand on her shoulder. ‘Shut up the racket, for God’s sake.’
‘You’re all the cowing same you men,’ she snarled into his face.
‘Are we?’ Billy said bitterly.
‘One thing on your bloody minds then you blame it all on us! You never know what you flaming well want!’
‘Well I know what I want now,’ he spoke in a loud, hoarse whisper. ‘I want you to get out of my sight – got it?’
Molly flung away from him with a screech of frustration. ‘You rotten bastard!’
‘Yeah—’ Billy picked went to work with the shovel again. ‘Nice knowing yer, Molly.’
Molly stumbled back to Hut J, for want of anywhere else to go. She crept back to her bed and lay down, fully clothed. There was no point in undressing again. She was boiling inside at first, so angry she could have laid Billy out. How dare he say those things? She punched the mattress but it made the springs squeak so she didn’t do it again. How could he, the rotten, hypocritical bastard? And then she felt ashamed and very alone, and for the first time since she had left home, sobs rose in her. She curled on her side, wrapped in one of the rough army blankets, and cried as silently as she could into its thick, scratchy folds.
But by the time everyone was up that morning, Molly was dry-eyed, perfectly ready for her kit inspection, which she passed with flying colours.
‘Good work, Fox,’ the Gorgon said in her clipped voice. Molly glowed inside. No one would ever have known there was anything wrong.
Bugger you, Billy, she thought. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. What makes you think I’d come running after you?
Cath, though, seemed to be struggling. She wasn’t feeling very well. ‘I’ll have to muddle through the day somehow,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to turn in sick.’
‘You don’t look too good at all,’ Molly said, looking at her pale face.
‘Oh, my stomach’s not the most reliable,’ Cath said. ‘I’ll be all right soon enough.’
Training continued to be just as intense. They passed the magic first Sunday, and church parade, which Molly found a strange experience as she had never been to church before. After that they were officially allowed out in the evenings, and Molly was determined to make sure she found blokes to go with.
On the Monday, though, they were faced with the written intelligence test. When Corporal Morrison told them about this, Molly felt a stab of dread, but she kept her chin up and looked as if she was full of confidence. Inside she was anything but. What if she couldn’t do it? What if she was really as stupid as everyone had said all her life? She was shaky with nerves as they filed into the hut. You’re not that stupid, she tried to tell herself. After all, it was she who had helped Em with her arithmetic when Em kept missing school. Inside the hut were arranged rows of little individual desks and on each lay an examination paper and a pencil. As she squeezed in behind the desk, Molly saw Win and Ruth take up their pencils with an air of confidence, as did some of the others. Cath was somewhere behind her, but Lena, who was just in front on the neighbouring row, turned and grimaced at her. She didn’t look any too happy either.
Molly turned over the paper, once they were told to start. There were picture questions – images you had to match as if you were looking in the mirror, and visual patterns that you had to continue. She frowned, working her way through them. The problems seemed suspiciously easy. These were followed by mathematical questions and series to complete. Molly worked steadily through them and was able to put down an answer for every question. She thought they made sense, but she was so unsure of herself that she was certain she must have got it all wrong. Soon it was too late to go back and she had to hand the paper in. By the time she got out of the room, seeing Win and Ruth looking smugly satisfied (or so it seemed to her), she was convinced that the whole test had been a disaster and she would be thrown out of the army immediately.
Some of the other girls were looking stricken.
‘God, that was awful,’ Cath said. She looked pale and strained again, not at all her usual vivacious self. ‘I couldn’t make head or tail of it – I left nearly half of them. I think my head’s all scrambled inside!’
‘You were writing away there, Molly,’ Lena said.
‘Doesn’t mean I got them right though, does it?’ Molly joked. ‘I probably just got the wrong end of the stick – I usually do!’ But she was surprised to hear how difficult some of the others had found the tests. Could it be that she had got some of them right?
‘Hey, Cath – are you all right?’ Lena was saying. Cath had peeled away from them and was leaning groggily against the wall of one of the huts.
‘What’s up?’ Win, prone to take charge as ever, came over to them. ‘Is something wrong, Cathleen?’
‘No—’ Cath struggled to recover, not really comfortable with Win. ‘I just felt a bit faint there for a moment. It was so warm in that room. I’ll be all right now, thanks.’
‘We can manage to ask her if she’s all right without your help yer know,’ Molly said.
Win turned, looking really insulted. ‘I know – but I . . .’ She was baffled by all Molly’s aggression. ‘I just saw her looking pale. Why do you always have to be so harsh? I was only trying to help.’ She walked off, affronted.
Cath, still leaning over, started to sing softly, ‘I’ll take you home again Kathleen . . .’ and the three of them got the giggles.
As the days passed, Molly was full of a prickly, restless energy. At every opportunity she could in Hut J she was loud and rude to the girls who made it clear they looked down on her for her foul mouth. She joined in with the Nottingham girls and Lena, who all made dirty jokes and found double, smutty meanings in everything. And she soon found another soldier to go out with. With her looks, Molly knew there’d be no shortage. She went out with a different one every night, making sure not to get too close. She didn’t want them all thinking she was too easy. And she saw some of the lads looking wa
rily at her. Billy had been putting the word about, she was sure of it. So she was especially careful, having a drink with Ron, then Mickey and Sidney, not to drink too much and only to give them a chaste kiss goodnight once they were near the guardroom.
On Wednesday nights they were expected to stay in for a domestic night, to clean up and catch up with any mending or letter writing. Thrown together in each other’s company even more than usual, they were all destined to get on one another’s nerves. And Molly didn’t want to stay in. Too much time with her hut mates rubbed her up the wrong way. She found herself looking to make trouble.
She had written a quick letter to Em, and as she sealed the envelope, she looked across at Cath. To her surprise, Cath, who had been resting on her bed, was already fast asleep. Molly smiled. She looked like a sweet little child with her curls round her cheeks. So she called across to Lena instead.
‘Coming down for a chat with Doris and Mary?’ The two girls from Nottingham slept further along the hut.
‘In a bit.’ Lena didn’t look up. She was laboriously writing a long letter.
‘Suit yerself.’
Soon, Molly and the Nottingham girls were cackling with deliberately loud laughter, fully engaged in their ribald humour. After a while Lena came to join them.
‘Ooh my word!’ Doris boomed with laughter at one of Molly’s wisecracks about the sausages they’d had for tea. ‘You’re a case, Molly – yer really are! I dunno how you think ’em up!’
‘All comes from having a filthy dirty mind!’ Mary tittered.
After a time, having sighed pointedly several times, Ruth looked up from the book she was trying to read.
‘I say—’ she said irritably, blushing as ever. ‘Do you think you could possibly quieten down a bit?’
Win, who spent ages every night dutifully writing her diary, was also frowning at them.
‘Why? Ain’t our conversation highbrow enough for yer then?’ Molly sneered. She rolled her eyes at Doris and Mary. ‘Some of us ain’t as la-di-dah as you, noses stuck in a book all the time.’
‘Actually’ – Ruth slammed her book closed, her face flaming pink as she got to her feet; her already odd voice became all the more peculiar when she was tense – ‘if you must know, no, I don’t enjoy hearing your conversation. Why does everything you say have to be so dirty and sordid? Can’t you find anything else to talk about for once?’