For a moment Fleur felt a rush of relief. Her voluntary entry into the WAAFs had been vindicated, but at Kay’s next words she felt a shudder of apprehension.
‘And they’re lowering the call-up age for men to eighteen and a half and raising it to men aged fifty.’
So in roughly a year’s time, Kenny – he would be eighteen next March – would have to go anyway. And what about her dad? He was still under fifty – just. Would he be called up? She had a sudden picture of her mother sitting at the table filling out numerous forms to stop her menfolk being sent to war.
Then Fleur remembered. Her dad still limped from an injury in the last war. He wouldn’t be classed as fit enough now.
But Kenny would. Oh yes, Kenny would be Al fit.
‘We don’t need a bloody wireless when you’re around, Corp,’ Ruth was saying, dragging Fleur’s thoughts back to the conversation around the table. ‘But could you give us a little light entertainment too, d’you think? Can you imitate Tommy Handley or sing like Vera Lynn?’
Kay enjoyed the banter. Both Fleur and Ruth gave her back as good as she gave out, but Kay never ‘pulled rank’ though, as a corporal, she could have done. Only Peggy was the quiet one of the four and just listened to the sharp exchanges with a placid smile.
But a few days later everyone was appalled by the news that was going round.
‘Oh, they’ve done it now.’ Kay was jubilant. ‘That’s America in the war for certain now.’
‘But it’s Japan that’s attacked them. They’ll concentrate on them, won’t they?’
‘It’s a world war now. They’ll just fight everybody.’ Kay grinned as she added, ‘ ’Cept us. Good to have a mighty friend on our side, isn’t it?’
Fleur shook her head. ‘But why? Why have Japan attacked Pearl Harbor? They must know they’d reap the whirlwind.’
‘Don’t ask me. I’m just glad we’re on the right side of the whirlwind.’
A few days later, the news guru said, ‘I told you so. I told you didn’t I?’
‘You tell us a lot of things, Corp,’ Ruth remarked dryly. ‘To which particular piece of your undoubted wisdom are you referring?’
‘Oh well, if you don’t want to know, then . . .’ Kay retorted but then she caught Ruth’s wink. ‘Oh, you . . . !’
‘Tell us, then,’ Fleur said.
The three of them were sitting at their usual table in the dining room for dinner. Peggy was away on leave.
‘The Russians are chasing Adolf out. They’ve recaptured some of the places that the Germans had taken and now Adolf’s boys are on the run. I told you the Russian winter would defeat him – his troops can’t withstand the cold. Can’t get supplies through either, I shouldn’t wonder. But the Russians know how to cope, don’t they? They’re used to it.’
‘Do you think he’ll try again? Next spring?’ Fleur, too, was caught up with the staggering news of the last few days.
Kay shrugged. ‘Not if he’s any sense.’
‘But he hasn’t, has he?’ Ruth put in, her mouth full of stew and dumplings.
‘What?’
‘Any sense.’
They were silent, each concentrating on their meal, until Ruth asked, ‘So? What are we all doing for Christmas, then?’
‘Oh, crumbs, I haven’t got as far as that yet,’ Fleur said.
‘You still haven’t come down off cloud nine since your wedding,’ Kay teased, and gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Ordinary life has to go on for the rest of us. Like planning Christmas.’
‘Have we got leave?’
Ruth pulled a face. ‘Shouldn’t think so for a minute. I think – though I don’t know – that leave will be granted to those whose homes are a long way off. After all – to be fair – we do get home a lot because our families live relatively near. I mean, we can get home and back on just a twenty-four, can’t we?’
Fleur nodded. ‘I see what you mean.’ She was silent for a moment. ‘I wonder if they’d let us do something on camp to celebrate? Those of us who don’t go home?’
‘Oh, I’m sure there’ll be a dance in the sergeants’ mess and—’
‘No, I meant something a bit more than that.’ She leant forward across the table towards the other two. ‘I tell you what I’d really like to do.’
‘What?’
‘Throw a Christmas party for all the evacuee kids in the village – and the village kids an’ all, of course.’
Ruth stared at her for a moment and then her face lit up. ‘Fleur – that’s a brilliant idea. Who do we have to ask?’
‘Er – well, we could start with ma’am . . .’
Fleur’s idea was taken up enthusiastically by everyone on camp and the date was fixed for the afternoon of Christmas Eve. A few days beforehand, willing hands – even those who would not be there on the day because they’d be on leave – helped to decorate the sergeants’ mess.
‘There’s a bloke at the main gate asking for Fleur,’ Johnny called from the doorway.
‘Oho, Robbie,’ Tommy shouted from the top of the ladder, where he was hanging paper chains across the ceiling. ‘Got a rival already, old boy. Have to watch her.’
Johnny, grinning in the doorway, said, ‘Well, he’s a nice-looking bloke, I’ll give you that, but he is old enough to be her father . . .’
Fleur gasped and her eyes widened. ‘Dad? Here? Oh – I wonder what’s wrong?’ Before Johnny could say any more, Fleur had gone out of the mess and was running along the road towards the main gate, her hair flying loose, her jacket undone. She was lucky she didn’t encounter any WAAF officers in her headlong flight, or she might have been on a charge and missed the children’s party for which she’d worked so hard.
Jake was standing talking amiably to the guard commander as Fleur dashed up.
‘What’s wrong, Dad?’
‘Oh, sorry, love, I didn’t mean to worry you. Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just brought you a Christmas tree. Kenny said you’re throwing a party for all the kids in the village and I thought—’
‘Oh, Dad, that’s wonderful. We’ve only got a pathetic-looking thing made out of wire and green paper.’ She turned to the guard commander. ‘May he drive round to the sergeants’ mess?’
Permission granted, Jake was greeted at the mess with open arms, quite literally, for Ruth ran towards him as he struggled through the door with the Christmas tree. ‘Mr Bosley, you darling! We’ve got all these lovely tree decorations from Mrs Jackson, Harry and Bill Moore at the pub and no tree to put them on. Oh, that’s perfect.’ She clapped her hands. ‘Now, where shall we put it?’
Already, Robbie, Tommy and Johnny were moving forward to help. ‘How about over here in the corner? And then we can put all the presents for the kids under the tree.’
‘Presents? My word, you have been busy,’ Jake said.
‘We’ve collected round the camp and we’ve managed to buy one present for each child.’
‘And the CO has promised to dress up as Father Christmas.’
‘Fleur,’ Jake said softly, ‘I tried to get your mam to make some extra puddings and a cake, but . . .’
‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ she said, slipping her arm through his and hugging it to her side. ‘This is absolutely great – you couldn’t have brought anything better. And . . . and it’s lovely to see you. I . . . I’ve missed you.’
His dark brown eyes regarded her soulfully. ‘Why don’t you come home any more? Surely you must have had a couple of days’ leave some time since your wedding?’
Fleur ran her tongue round her lips. ‘I . . . I wanted to. At least, if I’m honest, part of me wanted to. The other part – well – I didn’t want to make matters worse than they already are.’
Jake sighed heavily. ‘Well, they’re not going to get any better unless you do come home from time to time and try to heal the breach.’
‘All right, Dad. I will come. I promise.’
His face was bleak for a moment. ‘Kenny’s going in March, don’t forget. He’ll be eighteen then
and he still seems determined to go even before he really has to.’
‘I know,’ Fleur whispered. She was hardly likely to forget that. It blighted her waking hours and some of her sleeping ones too.
‘Have you heard?’ Robbie’s face was ecstatic. ‘Tommy’s just told the crew.’
‘Father Christmas has landed on the runway?’ Ruth volunteered.
‘Better than that!’
‘The war’s over?’
‘It soon will be now. We’re getting the new Lancasters and they’re arriving on Christmas Eve.’
All eyes turned to look at Robbie and then the excited questions began. ‘How many?’ ‘Will we get a chance to train on them?’ ‘How many crew do they need?’ ‘What bombs can they carry?’
‘Whoa, whoa there!’ Laughing, Robbie held out his hands, palms outwards, fending off the volley of questions. ‘We’ll find out soon enough.’
The arrival of the new aircraft was amazing. Every vantage point was lined with station personnel and Fleur and Kay, on duty in the watch office, held their breaths as the first of the magnificent planes approached the airfield and landed smoothly.
‘My word, what a beauty!’ Kay said, her mouth open in wonder as she stared at the lines of the aircraft, strangely elegant in such a powerful machine.
‘What a Christmas present!’ Fleur laughed as another approached the airfield and she heard the wireless burst into life. ‘Hello, Woody, this is J-Janie calling . . .’
And in they all came, one after another until they were all safely landed.
‘And now we’re going to party,’ Kay said as they clattered down the steps from the watch office and headed towards the sergeants’ mess.
The party was a great success, even though one or two children over-indulged at the sight of so much food and promptly threw up. ‘Father Christmas’ played his part and earned a new respect from those under his command.
‘D’you know,’ Johnny said later, ‘I always thought the CO was a miserable old devil, but he was really good with those kids. Did you see? And he was great on Christmas Day too, wasn’t he?’
The station had followed the usual tradition of all the officers serving the lower ranks with their Christmas dinner. They had entered into the spirit of the occasion with great aplomb and accepted the ribbing with equanimity.
‘No, he’s a good bloke,’ Robbie said. ‘But, y’know, I think I’d be a miserable old devil in his position. I don’t envy his responsibilities one bit. Sending crews off night after night, not knowing how many are going to come back. And just think of the dreadful letters he has to write when they don’t.’ Robbie gave a shudder. ‘God – it must be a nightmare.’
Johnny’s usual cheerful face sobered suddenly. ‘Yeah, you’re right, mate. I hadn’t looked at it like that.’ Then, his face crinkling once more into its usual grin, he punched Robbie’s shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s go and play with our new Lanc.’
There would be no operations for a while from Wickerton Wood.
‘We’ve to go on a course at a heavy conversion unit,’ Robbie told Fleur. ‘It’ll be for about six weeks.’
‘Six weeks! D’you mean I won’t see you for six weeks?’ She was staring at him in horror, but Robbie was grinning.
‘It’s only near Newark.’
Fleur let out a sigh of relief. ‘That’s all right then. You think you’ll get leave now and then?’
Robbie shook his head. ‘Probably not, but you should. There’ll not be much going on here until we come back, I shouldn’t think.’
Fleur pulled a face. ‘I wouldn’t bank on it. They’ll find something for us to do, I’ve no doubt.’
The six weeks passed surprisingly quickly whilst the newly formed crews of seven instead of four underwent their training on the new aircraft: take-offs, circuits, landings and even flying across country at different heights to familiarize themselves with how the aircraft, heavier than they had been used to with its four mighty Merlin engines, performed. Whenever they met up, Robbie talked of nothing else.
When they all returned to Wickerton Wood, Robbie was enthusiastic about his new instruments.
‘It’s all right for you, you jammy devil,’ Alan, the rear gunner, complained. ‘You’ve got the hottest seat in the house.’
Robbie laughed, but Fleur was anxious. ‘What’s he mean?’
‘He means it’s the warmest place in the aircraft.’
‘Oh, I . . . I thought he meant it was the most dangerous.’
‘No. Actually, it’s probably one of the safest places to be. I’m right behind the skipper and the back of his seat is armour-plated.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, really.’ He kissed her on the end of her nose. ‘So stop worrying. It’s a great aircraft.’
‘It’s the best Christmas present ever. Now we can get at ’em,’ was the opinion of everyone.
Thirty-Five
‘You know, you really ought to go home, Fleur. For a visit. Try to make it up with your mother,’ Robbie murmured as they lay in each other’s arms in the pale light of dawn after a blissful night of love. He kissed her hair. ‘I don’t like being the cause of a rift between you.’
It was February already and neither of them had been able to get home over Christmas or at New Year or since. Robbie because of the training course and Fleur because heavy falls of snow had given her the perfect excuse to stay at Wickerton. It was surprising that the crews had managed to complete enough flying hours on the course, but somehow they had.
Despite her father’s plea, Fleur was still putting off the moment. ‘I suppose you’re right.’ She sighed. ‘But I don’t want to miss any time with you.’
‘Well, we’re not always off duty at the same time,’ Robbie pointed out reasonably.
‘Mostly we are. Because . . . because when you’re flying, I’m usually in the watch office.’ There was a pause before Fleur suggested, ‘We could go together.’
‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Rather fuelling the flame, don’t you think?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Tell you what, next time we get a decent leave I’ll go and see Ma and Pops and you go to Middleditch Farm.’
‘All right.’ Fleur sighed again, knowing he was right, but feeling she would much rather visit the tiny terraced house in Nottingham with him. She would receive a warmer welcome from Robbie’s mother than she ever would from her own.
‘Good,’ he said as he began kissing her. ‘And now, Mrs Rodwell, before we have to get up and face the day . . .’
‘Hello, Dad,’ Fleur said softly, leaning on the top of the bottom half of the cowshed door. ‘I thought I’d find you here.’
Jake straightened up from the milking stool. ‘Fleur, love.’ His smile was warm and loving. He picked up the bucket of milk and came towards her. ‘Good to see you.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I don’t need to ask if everything’s all right. I can see it is.’
‘Oh, Dad, if only it wasn’t for this wretched war, then life would be perfect.’
‘Aye,’ Jake’s face clouded. ‘Aye, it would.’
‘But then, if it hadn’t been for the war, I might not have met Robbie.’
‘True, true,’ Jake murmured absently.
Fleur glanced behind him into the shadows of the cowshed. ‘Where’s Kenny? Isn’t he here? Helping you with the milking?’
Jake shook his head. Fleur searched his face. ‘What is it, Dad? What’s wrong?’
‘He’s gone. Kenny’s gone.’
‘Gone? Gone where?’
‘Into the RAF. Seems he volunteered a while back and he got his papers the day before yesterday and off he went.’
‘But . . . but . . . he’s not old enough. He’s not even eighteen yet.’
Jake shrugged. ‘He is next month. Seems it doesn’t matter. He’s in and that’s all he cares about.’
There was a pause before Fleur said, ‘He’d’ve been better in the army. Maybe they wouldn’t send him abroad straight away, b
ut the RAF. I mean once he’s done his training he – they . . .’
‘I thought it was the army he wanted too. It was – at first. But it seems . . . it seems as if he was influenced by – by . . .’ His voice fell away as if he couldn’t bring himself to say any more.
‘By Robbie, you mean,’ Fleur whispered.
Her father nodded. They stood awkwardly for a moment, neither knowing what to say. At last Jake said haltingly, ‘You’d best go in. See yer mother.’
‘No, no, I’ll help you finish here.’
‘You’ll get yerself mucky,’ he said, glancing at her uniform.
She pulled in a deep breath. ‘Then I’ll go in and find some old clothes. Unless, of course, Mum’s thrown them all out.’
‘No, no.’ Jake sighed. ‘Your room’s just as you left it.’
‘I won’t be a mo, then.’
‘Fleur—’ Jake began but she was gone, running across the yard towards the back door. As she stepped into the scullery, her mother looked up from the sink.
‘Oh, it’s you. Well, I hope you’re satisfied. He’s gone. Joined the wonderful RAF.’
‘Mum – I’m sorry. But it’s not all my fault. He was determined to join up somehow.’
‘It’s your fault he’s joined the RAF, though. Yours and – and his.’
Stung to retort, Fleur snapped. ‘His name’s Robbie.’
‘Oh yes, I know what his name is all right. And his bloody mother’s. Oh, I know her name all right. As if I could ever forget it. I wish to God I could.’ Betsy slammed down the plate she was washing onto the wooden draining board with such force that it cracked in two. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do. I’ve broken one of me best plates.’
‘Mum,’ Fleur said tiredly. ‘Won’t you tell me what all this is about? Don’t you think we have a right to know? What has Robbie done for you to hate him so? You don’t even know him.’
Betsy didn’t answer but picked up the shattered pieces and dropped them into a bin at the side of the sink. ‘It’s not him. It’s his mother.’
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