by Shirley Mann
Bobby sat in the front pew, wearing a tweed jacket with the plain white blouse and navy skirt she had changed into as a concession to her mother. On her head was the plain, blue felt hat she had unearthed from behind the tennis racquets in the understairs cupboard. Her compromise was completed by some leather gloves, to the approval of the gossips in the village who had despaired of the tomboy, Bobby, ever looking like a lady. They were all out in force to see Miss Clarke finally walk down the aisle. There were a few who muttered about Mrs Hollis’s sister marrying a foreman but most people, full of respect for the middle-aged couple, were smiling indulgently at the scene in front of them. Even Peter Martin’s sister had tried not to think of how her brother should have been the one waiting at the altar for Agnes and had sneaked into the back of the church to watch.
Bobby rested her hands demurely on the hymn book, but her fingers were clasping the cover a little too hard. She could feel Edward’s eyes on her from the back of the church and then when the vicar was asking the couple to say their vows, she felt as if she were repeating them under her breath to try them out for size.
She had never seen Aunt Agnes look so radiant, she thought. Gone was the grey, high necked dress and instead she wore a fetching, fitted dusky pink crepe outfit that reflected in her eyes, which were shining with happiness. There was a small posy of rosehips and autumn leaves from the woodland pinned to her left chest and a similar one on Archie’s lapel.
Archie was shifting from foot to foot. He hated being the centre of attention, but his face softened every time he looked at Agnes. Bobby felt a tear running down her cheek and reached in her handbag for a handkerchief. She looked round the pews. To one side were Harriet and her family. Harriet was looking misty-eyed too, and Bobby suspected she was imagining walking down the aisle to Gus.
‘I do hope he isn’t in a wheelchair,’ Bobby thought as a pang of guilt hit her in the ribs. She had hardly thought of Gus these past few weeks. She hoped he had not thought about her either.
Behind Harriet were Mrs Hill and Rachel and then in the next pew were Raoul and Michel. Her mother and father were seated to Bobby’s left with an excited Elizé between them. The little girl could hardly keep still and was constantly shifting in her seat. Bobby’s mother had a beatific smile and put a restraining hand gently on Elizé’s arm. Elizé looked up at her and clasped Mathilda’s hand with her own. They looked like a grandmother with her adored grandchild. Raoul’s voice boomed over everyone else’s during the hymns, he did not know the words but had a rich baritone voice and managed to pick up the tunes easily so sang lustily. Michel looked so much better, his cheeks were a healthy colour and he had put weight on. Bobby started to cry again, thinking how far they had all come since Michel burst into their drawing room that night. It occurred to her that since she had unleashed her own emotions, this crying was becoming a bit of a habit.
As the wedding party strolled back to the house in the October sunshine, Edward made his way through the throng towards Bobby. He touched her arm and she reared up as if struck by a red-hot poker.
‘Edward,’ she said, awkwardly. ‘It’s so lovely to see you here. How are you?’
‘Well, thank you. And you?’ He was polite but distant. Both of them were embarrassed by the shadow of their fathers’ arrangement hanging over them. It was as if being at the farm put their relationship on a very different footing from the one they had started to develop away from family pressures.
‘Bobby, about what our fathers discussed . . .’ Edward thought it was time they took control of their own destiny and was about to say so, but Bobby interrupted.
‘I . . . I’ve been offered a job teaching pilots at Coltishall when the war finishes,’ she blurted out.
Edward looked shocked. In the familiar guise of a pin-striped Civil Servant, he did not give himself a chance to examine his own thoughts on the subject but found his mouth opening to voice the opinions of his parents, colleagues and the Edward Turner everyone thought he was.
‘But surely, as a woman, you wouldn’t want to do that?’
Bobby looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign language.
‘Not want to do it? Of course I would, it’s my dream,’ she asserted, raising her chin.
Too late, Edward Turner realised he had made the biggest mistake of his life.
Chapter 44
Bobby was burning with indignation. She had spent her life proving herself to her father and now she was facing similar outdated attitudes from Edward. She had expected more of him. She tried to explain her feelings in a letter to Harriet but her friend’s reply was unequivocal.
Dear Bobby,
I can’t believe you are thinking of working all your life. Why wouldn’t you want a man to take care of you? It’s your job to look after a home and family, you know that. That’s what we women do – and we’re very good at it. I can’t wait for this war to be over and we can all go back to cooking and looking after a house. I’ve really missed it. I don’t want to compete in a man’s world – they’re welcome to it. I like Edward, he has an inner strength that I admire and he obviously adores you. I’ve always put you on a bit of a pedestal, Bobby, to be honest, but I think it’s time for you to give up your goddess status and come down to earth a bit!
Seeing as how you asked – or didn’t! – I am struggling with the shifts at the moment, I’m so tired. Every moment off I have, I’m at the hospital. Gus is doing really well but it’s slow progress. Sometimes he is full of optimism and then he plummets back down into despair. I’m doing everything I can to keep his spirits up but all he talks about is flying. The doctors are really pleased with him but it’s going to take a long time and he’s not very patient! It’s a good job I adore him, he’s a complete grumpy guts sometimes.
Anyway, as soon as Edward goes down on one knee, you just grab the opportunity. Maybe we could have a double wedding!! Wouldn’t that be exciting?
Must go, crews in peril to save!
Lots of love,
Harriet.
Bobby looked at the letter in disgust and threw it to one side but it was so hard to be cross with Harriet, she was irrepressible and just bounded back every time you rebuffed her, and in her words, Bobby heard the opinions of women up and down the country. She had never been able to understand why she had always felt she had to be different.
Sighing with frustration, Bobby stalked off to get her ‘chits’ for the day. A Typhoon from Kemble to Lasham and then a Tempest from Aston Down to Dunsfold. That did not seem too arduous, she thought, picking up her parachute. There were loads of Canadians at Dunsfold, Bobby thought.
Maybe I should find one to go on a date with, that would show Mr Edward bloomin’ Turner.
By the time she got to Dunsfold, the weather had closed in and it was almost dark. Bobby had had a moment of concern as she realised she was only just going to get to the airfield before blackout so she was relieved when she touched down. She was going to have to stay the night.
A lovely Canadian twang greeted her in the NAAFI. ‘Hello, little lady, you look as if you could do with a hot chocolate. Permit me to get you one.’
Bobby turned round to see a tall pilot with brown hair and twinkling eyes.
‘Well, if you insist,’ she said, settling herself in at the nearest table. ‘I am bushed.’
He introduced himself as Adrian from Montreal and he immediately launched into regaling her with endless tales of his bravado. She smiled as she listened. What is it about men that they think we’re going to be impressed if they tell us they’re like one of those new comic heroes? she thought while seeming to nod with interest at his story.
She would have loved to have told him about flying behind enemy lines and getting stuck in France but she had put her signature on that dotted line of the Official Secrets Act. It did give her a moment of quiet satisfaction to think about it though. How surprised he would have been.
When he asked her to join him for a drink that night, she was too tired to
argue and agreed, but first she had to find a bed for the night. The only place she could find was in the boiler house on a mattress but at least it was warm. She left her overnight bag, swilled her face in the ablutions block and went to meet her date.
The evening was a disaster. Firstly, Bobby thought that Adrian was probably married. It was the knowing looks and sly comments that his friends at the bar made as they passed that fuelled her suspicions. Secondly, she was not prepared to play the ‘little girl in a man’s world’ game any more. His determination to impress this young woman with his tales of heroism and bravado fell on deaf ears. She had nothing to prove. He could only fly one type of aircraft. She could fly dozens.
When he tried to kiss her at the end of the evening, she just longed for her bed and made a quick getaway, dodging under his arm and waving her goodbyes from a safe distance.
She lay on her mattress and wondered how she would ever find anyone who would respect her independence.
*
Edward was pacing up and down in his office early in the new year of 1945. Churchill and Anthony Eden had gone to Athens to try to reconcile the warring factions. The Home Guard had been stood down but the war was still far from over.
He pressed the intercom to ask Mavis Arbuckle to come in. She grabbed her pencil and pad and went to sit with her hand poised ready to write.
Edward had a list of things he needed to deal with but the main task was to try to help the Dutch, who were starving after the failed Operation Market Garden. The Germans and the weather were conspiring against the people of the Netherlands and Edward suspected the situation on the ground was dire, but he needed more information. He dictated five memos, all of which would need coding and sending over to agents in Europe. Since the liberation of Paris, it had been easier to get messages through to France but communication with other areas of Europe were almost impossible. The mercy flights were planned with a delicate agreement that if the Germans did not shoot at them, the allies would not bomb German positions. Edward, however, was not taking any chances and had volunteered to organise a back-up plan of trucks to go into the Nazi-occupied northern areas as soon as possible. It occurred to him that Churchill and Eden might, after all, have the easier task.
‘That’s all for now, Mavis, thank you.’ He looked at his watch. She should have gone home by now but as she hovered, he added, ‘Mavis, do you have a minute?’ She sat down again with an encouraging smile.
‘Mavis, I’m afraid I need your advice again. I’m not doing very well as a potential suitor. Do you mind me asking: how much independence do you think women will want once the war is over?’
She thought for a moment, realising how significant her answer was going to be in her beloved boss’s life.
‘Well, sir, this war has certainly changed things. I mean, I’m a single woman, so, since my father died, I’ve never had to answer to a man, and I must say, I’d find it very hard to give up that independence now. I like making my own decisions and I’m used to my being my own woman. I’d never want to give that up.’
‘Oh, that’s a shame,’ Edward joked. ‘I was hoping to introduce you to an old friend of mine, a sea captain. He’s a confirmed bachelor and needs taming.’ The thought of Mavis Arbuckle with his friend, John Blake, almost made him laugh out loud but he coughed to control himself.
‘I’ll just stick to taming my Tiddles,’ Mavis tittered, but then her flushed face became serious again. ‘I think, sir, if you don’t mind me saying, that times have changed and women have discovered that they’re as good as any men in so many areas. They’re not going to want to go back into the kitchen.’ She stopped, weighing up his reaction and then decided to speak her mind fully.
‘The point is, sir, in your case, if a woman is going to be interesting enough to entice you, then there’ll be little point in trying to make her conform to normal conventions. She’s going to need to be able to fly.’
Edward smiled at the irony of her comment. ‘As ever, you’re absolutely right but I think I may have already messed it up. How am I going to make her believe that I’m open-minded enough to let her do that?’
He looked so forlorn, Mavis longed to give him a motherly hug.
‘If I can suggest, sir, that if you can just be yourself and stop hiding behind the mask of this high-ranking civil servant,’ she waved her arms to encompass the impeccably-dressed figure in front of her, ‘then she’ll realise you’re able to see her as an equal.’
He nodded in agreement, so she went on, ‘But, sir, you must mean it. Any woman worth her salt’ll be able to see through it if you’re not sincere and for a man brought up as traditionally as you have, it’s not going to be easy.’
With that, Mavis Arbuckle got to her feet and moved around the desk. For once, she towered over her employer and put her hand on his shoulder. She could only guess at the internal battle that was going on in Edward’s head. She suspected he was two people, the first, she knew was bound by convention but the second? She had glimpsed another Edward at times, one whose eyes twinkled when a task seemed impossible or when he had been out of the office on a mission that only he knew about. What he got up to on those occasions, she had no idea, but he always came back looking reinvigorated and full of mischief. There had been that occasion recently, she recalled, when he had gone to the south coast and come back with those Frenchmen.
‘I’ve got the feeling there’s an exciting young man who masquerades in this pin-striped suit,’ she said, ‘and that, given your head, you embrace adventure like a rock-climber. Don’t be afraid of a woman who’s the same. It means she’s worthy of you.’
She blushed and grabbed her notebook.
‘Goodnight, Mavis. Where would I be without you?’ Edward said as she closed the door behind her.
Chapter 45
The daffodils were out and for once, the sun seemed to herald a warmth to the spring of 1945 that had nothing to do with the weather.
Bobby noticed their nodding heads as she made her way to the restroom at Hamble and nodded back at them, feeling a shared optimism. She was acting as a taxi pilot and although it was giving her more regular hours and less stress, she would be glad when this month was over. Flying the same aircraft over and over was less of a challenge and Bobby needed a challenge.
The winter months had been quieter, with fewer fighters needed, but also because the terrible weather meant that landing areas were reduced to little more than muddy strips in fields. Even so, she had hardly had time to get home. She knew that Michel and Raoul were making themselves useful on the farm, that the newly-married couple had moved into Archie’s little cottage and that her mother was actually thriving on the new responsibility of being the woman in charge of the household. Her aunt’s description of her mother was like reading about another person. The psychiatrist had been delighted with her progress and with Raoul and Michel to fuss over, she had discovered a new confidence that had taken them all, especially her husband, by surprise. Bobby could not wait to go home and see for herself. She received regular letters from Harriet describing, in interminable detail, how Gus was doing with his new treatment and how she had done him a schedule of achievement goals.
Bobby smiled, thinking of Gus being bombarded with Harriet Marcham and her determination to get him walking again. She had received an occasional letter from Gus and an even rarer one from Edward. Both were perfunctory towards her, but she was pleased to note the warmth in Gus’s descriptions of Harriet.
‘Hi Bobby,’ Sally followed her into the restroom. ‘Haven’t seen you in ages. How are you?’
‘OK . . . bit bored. On Ansons.’
‘Poor you,’ Sally said. She flopped down in the armchair next to Bobby and tilted her head back. ‘Is it all over yet?’ she asked plaintively.
Bobby threw a cushion at her. ‘Nearly, but not quite. We’re almost in Berlin, I heard on the wireless today.’
‘Oh hell, I’m running out of time.’
Sally’s determination to find a husband
before the war was over had been thwarted by a series of doomed relationships and she was getting desperate.
‘I don’t know what I want,’ Daphne said from across the room, voicing the opinions of all of them. ‘Part of me just wants it all to be over and the other part is terrified. I couldn’t bear to go back to where we were before the war. I’m a pilot now and I love it. How the hell am I going to tell my dad I don’t want to go back to that boring admin job?’
‘Well, let’s see what we can do about that,’ Sally was suddenly galvanised into action. ‘I heard there’s an Embassy do tonight at the Savoy. I think I can get us an invite. Are you both up for that? We should have enough time to get the train and get back if we get a move on.’
Bobby and Daphne perked up. A night out was just what they needed.
*
The sumptuous foyer was full of people in either uniform or evening dress and the three girls hung back for a moment until Sally spotted her cousin, a tall man with glasses. The Savoy had been too opulent for a Blitz-torn London but once the Americans joined the war, it had received a huge boost and was enjoying a revival as one of the poshest places in the capital. Even so, the menus on the A-frames next to the restaurant pronounced that they, too, were keeping to the maximum meal-cost of five shillings, which meant that many service people were able to eat there for the first time in their lives.
‘Reggie!’ Sally called, moving towards him as he turned around.
‘Sal, you came! And these must be your friends,’ Reggie said, steering the trio towards the group he was with.
He signalled to a waitress passing with a tray of drinks and each girl took a glass, grateful to have something to do with their hands. They had all put on their best frocks, which were, frankly, looking a little worn after years of rationing, but their hair gleamed, and Bobby and Daphne had borrowed Sally’s lipstick when she was out of the room.