The Girls in Blue

by Lily Baxter

  ‘I hope so for both your sakes. I mean, I’m sure that Gil will make a full recovery. He’s very determined when he makes up his mind to something, and now he knows that you’re back in the picture I’m certain he’ll make an even bigger effort.’

  ‘I’ll do my best to help him. That’s a promise.’

  Feeling like a new girl at school, Miranda was even more nervous on her first day at Warmwell than she had been at Henlow. Arriving in style in her grandfather’s Bentley with Jack at her side, Miranda was pounced upon by her new section leader who bristled with efficiency and was totally lacking in a sense of humour. She dismissed Miranda’s experience in the plotting room with a curt laugh. ‘You’ll have to get yourself transferred to Filton if you want to join the la-di-dah girlies in the ops room,’ she said, curling her lip. ‘You’ll be given clerical duties, Beddoes, starting right away. Think yourself lucky that you haven’t been sent to the repair shops maintaining bicycles, or to wait on tables in the mess.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘But that could all change, so you’d better show me what you can do.’

  Miranda spent the rest of the morning doing menial jobs in the office, but at midday Rita burst into the room and greeted her with a cheery smile. ‘I won’t hug you, love,’ she said, holding out her arms to demonstrate her oil-streaked and mud-strained overalls. ‘I’ve come to take you to the mess for din-dins.’ She angled her head, frowning. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Miranda said, hoping she sounded more cheerful than she was feeling. ‘I expect I’m just hungry.’

  ‘Well that’s easily settled. Let’s go.’ She opened the door. ‘The good news is that you’re billeted in the castle with me and the girls.’

  ‘That sounds lovely.’

  Miranda’s first impression of the castle, as the girls jokingly called the near derelict farmhouse, was one of shock and then amusement followed by disbelief. ‘You’re pulling my leg,’ she said as she propped her bicycle against a rickety wooden fence. ‘This place is a ruin.’ She stared in horror at the thatched roof which was bald in places with clumps of moss in great green patches. The chimney stack looked as though it might collapse at any moment, and panes of glass were missing from the upstairs windows.

  Rita wheeled her bike through the muddy yard and leaned it against the cob wall. ‘It’s not Buckingham Palace that’s for certain, but we’ve done a good job inside.’ She unlocked the front door and heaved it with her shoulder so that it juddered, creaked and lurched open. ‘Come in and see.’

  Miranda followed her inside and stood blinking as her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom. There were two small lattice windows on either side of the door and another at the far side of the room. The ground floor seemed to consist of one large open area with blackened oak beams supporting a low ceiling, and an ancient cast-iron range taking up most of one wall. She could feel the chill rising from the flagstone floor and a draught wafted down a wooden flight of steps that led to the upper storey. The only furniture was a pine dresser, a large deal table and several ill-assorted kitchen chairs, but Miranda noticed that someone had made patchwork cushions for the seats in an attempt to make the place a little more homely, and there was a jam jar filled with primroses in the middle of the table.

  ‘Home sweet hovel,’ Rita said proudly. ‘It’s nice and cosy when we get the fire going at night. Come upstairs and I’ll show you where you’ll sleep.’ She headed towards the stairs. ‘Mind your head on the beam at the top, and watch out for the top step, it’s a bit worn.’

  Miranda followed her up the crudely made staircase to the upper floor, which again seemed to consist of one large room. Four camp beds were set beneath the sloping ceiling and Miranda was disturbed to see daylight filtering through gaps in the thatch. She could hear scrabbling sounds in the rafters, which was even more worrying. ‘What’s living up there? I hope it isn’t rats.’

  ‘Dunno,’ Rita said airily. ‘I haven’t seen any livestock, and if they don’t bother me, I won’t bother them.’ She shot Miranda a mischievous look. ‘Don’t worry, ducks. It could be bats or mice.’ She pointed to a camp bed on the far side of the room. ‘That’s yours, and I’m in the one opposite. You’ll meet the other girls tonight at supper. It’s my turn to cook so it’s pot luck, but it’ll probably be Spam fritters because that’s my entire repertoire. I’m probably about as good a cook as Mrs B, or even slightly worse.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to it,’ Miranda said drily. She laid her suitcase on the bed. ‘Where’s the bathroom?’

  Rita shook her head. ‘I was waiting for you to ask that. The lav is outside and we take turns on latrine duty.’

  ‘And the ablutions?’

  ‘My God you are spoilt,’ Rita said, chuckling. ‘We’ve got a tin bath we fill with hot water once a week and take it in turns. The water comes from a pump in the yard, so if you want a wash you either do it outside or if it’s cold and rainy fetch a bucketful and wash in the kitchen. You’ll soon get used to it.’

  ‘I’m sure I will,’ Miranda said, doubtfully. ‘Is there any chance of using the ablutions at the camp?’

  ‘It’s not worth the bother. Trust me, I’ve tried every trick in the book. Come downstairs and I’ll show you where the lav is, although don’t expect much and you won’t be disappointed.’

  That evening Miranda met her new roommates, Vivienne and Joan. Vivienne waited on tables in the mess and helped in the cookhouse and Joan worked in the bicycle repair shed with Rita. They sat round the table eating Rita’s Spam fritters with baked potatoes, followed by a generous helping of plum duff that Joan said was surplus to needs in the officers’ mess.

  ‘As it’s your first night we’ll do the washing up,’ Vivienne said magnanimously. ‘But tomorrow you’re on kitchen duties, new girl.’

  ‘And it’s bath night tomorrow,’ Joan added, grinning. ‘It’ll be your turn to fetch the water and fill the tub.’

  ‘Fine by me,’ Miranda said, refusing to be drawn into an argument on her first evening. She could sense that she was being tested, but she had learned to stand up for herself at Henlow.

  ‘Go easy on her,’ Rita said, frowning. ‘This is my best mate, Miranda. She’s one of us.’

  ‘Keep your hair on, old girl,’ Vivienne said, taking a packet of Gold Flake cigarettes from her handbag and offering them round. ‘Smoke, anyone?’

  Joan took one but Rita shook her head. ‘Trying to give up, love.’

  ‘What about you, Miranda?’

  ‘No, thanks, Vivienne. I gave up some time ago.’ Miranda pushed back her chair and stood up. The heat from the range was intense and the fumes from the paraffin lamp were making her feel slightly queasy as they mingled with the smell of hot fat and cigarette smoke. ‘I think I’ll get a breath of air, if you don’t mind, girls.’

  Rita smiled and nodded. ‘That’s right. Get your bearings. It’ll all seem a bit strange at first but you’ll get used to the old place. It’s not too bad unless it’s raining and then it’s hell.’

  Miranda went outside, taking deep breaths of cool evening air. The lengthening shadows softened the harsh outlines of the disused and crumbling outhouses, making them look hazy and romantic. The bustling life of the aerodrome seemed like another world, and in this idyllic landscape the only wings in the sky were those of birds coming home to roost for the night. It was a scene of peace and tranquillity but suddenly the silence was broken by the crunch of bicycle tyres on the rough road surface and Raif pedalled into the yard. He dismounted and left the bike at the gate. ‘Jack told me where to find you,’ he said before she had a chance to speak.

  ‘I’m so sorry about Izzie,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t know what to say.’

  He took both her hands in his, looking deeply into her eyes before dropping his gaze. ‘I know. I can’t believe that I’m still here and she’s gone forever.’

  ‘I couldn’t get home for the funeral, Raif.’

  ‘It was very quiet. Your grandparents were there and Jack, of course, but apart
from that there was just Father and me. My mother couldn’t get back from America and it’s probably just as well. It was awful seeing Izzie’s coffin and knowing that I’d been so against her marrying Jack. Then there was all that business with my father and your grandparents, and I ask myself what was it all about? In the grand scheme of things nothing matters when you’re faced with the death of someone you love; two people if you count Izzie’s baby. The whole thing was desperately sad and I’m glad you didn’t have to go through it. I know you loved Izzie and she loved you.’

  Miranda slid her arms around his neck and they stood motionless in the twilight for a long moment until they moved apart. Miranda rested her hands on his shoulders. ‘Is there anything I can do, Raif?’

  ‘Thanks, but no. There’s nothing anyone can do now. I’d give anything to be able to turn the clock back and do things differently, but I can’t and I’ll just have to live with it for the rest of my life.’

  She let her hands fall to her sides, feeling helpless in the face of such guilt-ridden grief. ‘Izzie wouldn’t want you to be unhappy.’

  ‘She was worth ten of me. I should have bought it, not her.’ He raised his head to look her in the eye. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to burden you with all this. I just wanted to see you, and make things right with you, while I’ve got the chance. It could be my turn next.’

  She felt a chill run down her spine. ‘Don’t talk like that. I’m your friend and always will be.’

  ‘Thanks. That means a lot to me.’ He turned on his heel and strode away to retrieve his bicycle.

  She hurried after him. ‘Raif, don’t go like this. Stay and talk to me. I can’t very well invite you inside as it’s a bit crowded, but we could go for a walk. You really shouldn’t be on your own.’

  ‘I’m on duty. I shouldn’t have come, but I had to see you. Call it unfinished business, but you mean a lot to me, Miranda.’ He mounted the bicycle and rode off before she had a chance to stop him. She ran into the lane but he had already been swallowed up by the encroaching night.

  It was some time before she felt calm enough to join the others.

  She found it hard to sleep and when she eventually drifted off she dreamed that Izzie was standing by her bedside and she was weeping. Tears trickled down her pale cheeks and fell on Miranda’s face. She brushed them away but they kept falling. She wanted to wake up but Izzie would not go away. She was shaking her and calling her name.

  ‘Miranda, wake up.’

  She opened her eyes and saw Rita silhouetted against the gaping hole in the thatch. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘It’s pouring with rain, you idiot. You’re soaked to the skin. Get up and we’ll move your bed.’

  Joan raised herself on her elbow. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing, go back to sleep,’ Rita said, dragging Miranda to her feet. She hesitated, cocking her head on one side. ‘That’s all we need – a bloody air raid warning. Get up girls. We’d better go down to the cellar.’

  Joan groaned and turned over. ‘I’d rather die in my bed than be buried alive.’

  Vivienne struggled to her feet. ‘I need a pee now. Blast the bleeding Luftwaffe.’

  ‘Wrap this round you, Miranda,’ Rita said, pulling the blanket off her bed. ‘Go downstairs and I’ll put the kettle on. I’m not a fan of the cellar either, and they’ll be trying to bomb the airfield, not us.’

  ‘They’ll be scrambled,’ Miranda said through chattering teeth.

  ‘Of course they will.’ Rita steered her towards the stairs. ‘The glamour-boys will sort out the Jerries. Now go downstairs while I move your bed. Go and sit by the range and dry out or you’ll catch double pneumonia.’

  Miranda stumbled down the rough wooden steps with Raif’s last words ringing in her ears. Call it unfinished business. She knew then what he meant, and what Izzie had been trying to tell her in the dream. Raif was intent on revenge and nothing and no one would be able to stop him. He had taken his Spitfire into the air with one thing in mind: to kill or be killed.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ‘I’VE GOT TO stop him.’ Miranda came to a halt in the middle of the kitchen. The nightmare was receding but the resounding thuds of ack-ack fire shook the old building, and the drone of aircraft engines overhead brought the combat terrifyingly close to home. She shrugged off the blanket. ‘I must get dressed and go to the aerodrome.’

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ Rita demanded, catching her by the wrist.

  ‘I’ve got to stop him taking off. Let me go, Rita. I have to do this.’

  ‘Calm down and stop talking like a mad woman.’

  ‘Raif told me that he had unfinished business. I know that he’s going to get himself killed. He’s on a suicide mission and I’ve got to stop him.’ Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she struggled to free herself, but a slap across the face made her gasp with shock. ‘Why did you do that?’

  ‘You had a nightmare. Come and sit by the fire. I’ll soon get it going again and you can have a nice hot cup of tea.’ Rita guided her towards the range and pulled up a chair, pressing her down on the seat. She retrieved the blanket and wrapped it around Miranda’s shoulders. ‘You’ll be all right. It was just a bad dream.’ She waited for a moment and when Miranda did not respond she turned her attention to the range, riddling the ashes and pulling out the damper.

  A gust of wind and rain blew into the kitchen as Vivienne rushed in and slammed the door. ‘God, what an awful night. I’d give anything for an indoor lavvy.’ Shaking the rainwater from her hair, she stopped to stare at Miranda. ‘What’s up with her?’

  ‘Get some logs from the store,’ Rita said, frowning. ‘Miranda’s bed got soaked. We must do something about that bloody roof.’

  Vivienne hesitated, staring at Miranda. ‘There’s no need to get in a state about it, love. If having a bad dream and getting soaked is the worst thing that’s happened to you since the war started, all I can say is that you’ve had it easy.’

  ‘Shut up, Viv, and get the logs.’ Rita flicked a cinder at her. ‘D’you want tea or cocoa?’

  ‘Cocoa. If I don’t drown on my way to the log store.’ Vivienne opened the door and went outside to brave the storm for the second time.

  Miranda rose to her feet. ‘I’m okay now, Rita. Please don’t slap me again, but I’ve got to go to the aerodrome. If there’s the slightest chance that I can stop Raif taking off then I’ve got to do it.’

  ‘Don’t talk rubbish, Manda. They’ll have been scrambled before the siren went off and there’s nothing you can do about it.’ Rising to her feet, Rita took a small bottle from its hiding place behind the clock on the mantelshelf. ‘Rum,’ she said, pulling out the cork. ‘A slug of this in your tea will make you feel a different woman.’ She put the bottle to her lips and sipped. ‘Blimey, that warms the cockles of your heart.’ She passed it to Miranda. ‘Take a swig now and we’ll share the rest with Viv and Joan. Us girls look after each other – all for one, et cetera et cetera.’

  Miranda’s worst fears were realised when she arrived at the aerodrome next morning and discovered that not all the fighter planes had returned from last night’s sortie. Jack had managed to limp back to the airfield on one engine, and two Spitfires were confirmed as lost, but there was no information as to the fate of Raif’s Spitfire. Miranda received the news with little surprise, having already convinced herself that he had carried out his death wish. When Jack came to see her in the office later that day he seemed relieved that she was taking it so well. ‘I always thought you had a bit of a crush on him, Miranda.’

  She shuffled the papers on the desk in front of her and laid them tidily in the filing basket. ‘I did, but that was a long time ago now. I was such a little idiot when all this started but I’ve had to grow up.’

  He perched on the edge of the desk. ‘It ought to have been me who bought it last night. God alone knows how I managed to bring my kite home. I thought about ditching in the sea, but for some reason I couldn’t do it.
’

  Jolted out of her apathetic state, Miranda stared at him in dismay. ‘You mustn’t think like that, Jack. Izzie wouldn’t want you to do anything stupid. She loved you and she wouldn’t want you to waste your life.’

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t imagine a future without her. I really don’t care what happens to me now.’

  Miranda was about to protest when Rita stuck her head round the door. ‘Ready for off, Manda?’ Her smile faded when she saw Jack and she entered the room, closing the door behind her. She put her arms around him. ‘You were nearly a goner, you daft bugger. Don’t scare us like that again.’

  Jack’s grim expression softened into a smile. ‘You really know how to make a chap feel good, Rita.’

  She loosened her hold, staring at him with concern in her eyes. ‘If you think I’m going to let you wallow in misery, you’ve got another think coming, young man.’

  Miranda held her breath. She would not have spoken to Jack in such a way, but to her astonishment he did not seem to mind. If anything he appeared to relax a little, and he held Rita at arm’s length, studying her grubby overalls with a wry expression. ‘You look a mess and you’ve got lubricating oil in your hair.’

  ‘Ta, ever so. It’s nice to know I’m appreciated.’ Rita pulled away from him, grinning. ‘I’m going to have a shower and then you can buy me and Manda a drink in the pub, since we’re not allowed in the mess with the snobby officers.’

  ‘I’m not really in the mood,’ Jack said wearily. ‘I’ve only had a couple of hours’ sleep.’

  ‘All the more reason to have a couple of drinks and a meal and you’ll drop off as soon as your head hits the pillow and sleep like a baby. I’m not taking no for an answer, Flight Lieutenant Beddoes.’ She shot a meaningful look in Miranda’s direction. ‘Keep an eye on this bloke. Don’t let him out of your sight. He’s in the chair and you’re coming with us. I’m not having you moping about Raif Carstairs. If he’s bought it, he’s no great loss. That’s my opinion and I’m sticking to it.’ She winked and with a mock salute left the room.