She was still concerned about Roland, much as she disliked him. But her father hadn’t been able to find out if he was all right. ‘The RAF personnel are billeted in cottages in the village – too dangerous for them to stay on the base,’ he told her.
Lily returned to work after a couple more days off, still looking pale and anxious. She brushed aside Daisy’s concern that she was not fit to work. ‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘Just worried about Roland.’
‘You haven’t heard from him?’ Daisy asked.
Lily shook her head and walked over to clear one of the tables.
Daisy looked after her, biting her lip. If Roland was all right, why hadn’t he contacted Lily to reassure her? He must know how she would be feeling. Of course, he was probably busy and not able to write but he surely could have sent a message via one of the soldiers helping with the clear up.
Chapter Seventeen
Bob had not stayed in the Amiens region for long. The plan seemed to be to move him on every few days, although he never knew quite when someone would appear, usually at night, and hustle him outside. He would be pushed into a cart and covered with hay, or into a van hidden behind crates of vegetables. In this rural part of France there was always a market being held and villagers had permission to go to the nearest market town to sell their wares.
He lost count of the number of such journeys he made and had no idea where he was, or even if they were still in France. From the open farmland of the Somme region he had left, they were now among rolling hills and on one of their stops, as he got down from the van to stretch his legs, he saw snow-capped mountains in the distance.
The days merged into each other and he had no idea how long he had been on the run. Weeks, maybe even months had passed, and he was now hiding in the back of a van loaded with boxes of apples.
He was grateful to these strangers who were risking their lives for him. His only regret was that he couldn’t stay in touch. He prayed that one day he would be able to return and thank them. As the van jolted along the uneven road to yet another unknown destination, his thoughts turned once more to the two women he loved.
When he knocked on the door of the house with blue shutters he had been trembling inside. Who would answer the door? Would it be friend or foe? He still found it hard to believe he would not be betrayed to the enemy.
To his unconcealed delight, Francoise had stood there, wearing a smile to match his.
‘Bobbee, you are here. I prayed you were safe, that you got back to England, but I was so happy to see you in the church.’ She looked up and down the narrow lane, then drew him into the house. ‘You must stay here for a few days,’ she said.
Bob wanted to say he would like to stay forever but he remained silent as he followed her into a low-beamed room. His heart pounded – not with fear as it had so often in the past weeks – but with joy at being once more with the girl who was never far from his thoughts since the first time he saw her. After a few minutes his heart slowed, and common sense prevailed.
‘I can’t stay. It is too dangerous – for you. I would never forgive myself if...’
She put a finger to his lips. ‘I am not afraid. Besides, you are not the first we have helped. I have become used to the danger. But I - and my friends – we must do what we can. We are determined. One day France will be free once more.’ She threw back her head and her eyes glowed with fervour.
Bob’s heart swelled with pride and, he realised, love for this brave woman. ‘I wish I could help,’ he said. ‘But the best way I can do that is to get home and rejoin my unit. We must fight on.’
Francoise nodded and smiled. ‘Of course. But first, you must eat.’ She took his arm and led him through to a large kitchen. A scrubbed table stood in the centre, laden with more food than Bob had seen in a long while. Pans simmered on the long range which took up most of the far wall, giving off an appetising smell that made him realise how hungry he was.
An old man sat at the table, his weather-beaten face creased with a smile as he looked up and waved a hand in welcome. ‘Asseyez vous,’ he said.
Bob had learned a few French phrases during his time here and he sat at the table, saying, ‘Merci, Monsieur.’
‘This is my Uncle Henri,’ Francoise said, then turned to the plump woman standing at the stove. ‘And my Aunt Alys.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Bob said, his meagre store of French deserting him for a moment. ‘What about your mother?’ he asked. ‘Is she here?’
Francoise pointed a finger upwards. ‘She is sick. She stays in her bed.’
‘I’m sorry. I hope she gets well soon.’
Uncle Henri nodded. ‘She will.’ He indicated the food and said, ‘Please, eat, eat.’
Bob needed no second telling. He grabbed a piece of the fresh crusty bread and waited while Aunt Alys filled his bowl with thick vegetable soup.
During the days he spent with Francoise’s family he almost forgot about the war, helping in the vegetable garden and feeding the chickens, most of which had been taken by the Germans.
‘They take what they want to feed themselves and leave just enough for us to survive,’ Henri said bitterly. ‘A sergeant comes by every week for their share.’
Bob protested that they did not have enough to feed him too. He should move on. Besides, there was a real risk that he would be caught. Someone in the village must realise that the Lebruns had someone staying there.
When he was working outside, he found himself constantly stopping to listen and look around. In this flat open countryside he felt vulnerable and exposed. But Henri assured him the terrain worked in their favour. An enemy approach would be seen and heard with enough time to hide him.
One day Francoise was working alongside him in the vegetable garden, hoeing the weeds between the rows of cabbages. The sun was hot on his back and he took his shirt off, wiping the sweat from his forehead with it. He looked round to find Francoise staring at him.
His face reddened and he felt a momentary embarrassment until she stepped towards him and hesitantly ran a finger down his chest. ‘Bobbee, you are so handsome,’ she said.
He started to laugh, thinking she was teasing. But she moved her finger up to his lips and whispered, ‘Kiss me, Bobbee.’
He pulled her to him, crushing her against his chest, and their lips met. The kiss seemed to go on forever, arousing in him feelings such as he’d never experienced with Daisy. He let Francoise go abruptly and turned towards the house.
‘Someone might see,’ he said. He didn’t really care but the thought of Daisy spoilt that precious moment and guilt flooded him. He had promised to stay true to Daisy and asked her to stay true to him. He meant it at the time but how could he have anticipated meeting this lovely French girl and falling hopelessly in love?
In the days that followed they managed to snatch a few moments alone and their feelings for each other deepened into a passionate, yet tender love. They made promises to each other that Bob knew might be impossible to keep.
When the time came to part, he felt as if his heart would break. He peered over the back of the cart, watching as she waved him out of sight. Then he burrowed deep into the pile of hay, wondering if he’d ever see her again but determined that one day he would return to France and find her. He would find a way to let Daisy down as gently as possible. He was fond of her and didn’t want to hurt her. After all, they had been close friends since childhood. But that was all – friendship. The deep affection he felt for her was nothing like the feelings he had for Francoise. He must try to forget her.
The van halted suddenly, jerking him out of his introspection. Gutteral German voices caused his heartbeat to quicken. He heard the van driver getting out and he tensed as footsteps approached the back of the vehicle.
So this is how it ends, he thought, bracing himself for discovery.
***
The air raids continued unabated, giving Daisy yet more to worry about. When the siren went she spent the hours in the air raid shelter
biting her nails and praying that Sylvia and her family were safe. The Luftwaffe seemed to be concentrating on the airfields and she hadn’t heard anything from her sister since that last brief note. She knew Mum was worried too, although she didn’t say much. And Dad wouldn’t be skulking in a shelter. He would be with his fellow volunteers. The LDV had recently changed their name to the Home Guard - now a proper military unit fully kitted out with uniforms, arms and ammunition.
If only she could do something more, Daisy thought, buttering more slices of bread, careful not to be too generous with the butter. Serving tea and sandwiches seemed tame compared with what others were doing.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. ‘Mrs Green wants you in the office,’ June said.
Lily rolled her eyes. ‘What have you been up to?’ she whispered.
Daisy shrugged and hurried away. She knocked on the office door and, hearing a muttered ‘come in’, she went in, her heart hammering. To her knowledge, she hadn’t done anything wrong since breaking that cup and saucer.
For once, the supervisor was smiling. ‘Well, Miss Bishop, how do you fancy a change of scene?’ She looked down at some papers on her desk before continuing. ‘They need someone in the NAAFI at the airfield,’ she said.
‘Eastchurch?’ Daisy’s stomach flipped. That part of the Island had been badly hit in the continuing air raids. She would do what she had to do though. Hadn’t she just been wishing she could do more for the war effort? Still, she had to ask.
‘Why me? Lily’s worked here the longest.’
‘Mr Browning suggested you. The girl who works there received injuries from flying glass and has been sent home. We have an extra pair of hands since Mavis joined us so we can spare you. Collect your things and make your way there without delay.’
‘Will I be able to come home each evening?’ Daisy asked.
‘No. There is a billet for you in the village. The buses are so unreliable at the moment. It makes more sense for you to stay there.’
‘I suppose so,’ Daisy said.
‘You’ve no choice, my girl.’
‘I’d better go home and pack then.’
‘Make haste while the buses are still running. Who knows if there’s going to be another raid?’
Daisy suppressed a shiver, remembering her father’s description of the devastation and loss of life he had witnessed. She straightened her shoulders and said, ‘Very well, Mrs Green.’ She turned at the door. ‘Before I go, there’s something I want to mention.’ She bit her lip, hesitating.
‘Out with it then, girl. I haven’t got all day and you should be on your way.’
She took the plunge. ‘I noticed the other day that some of the stores seem to be missing. I should have mentioned it before.’
Mrs Green sucked in her breath. ‘And what business is it of yours what’s in the stores? Last time I went over, I checked and everything’s been signed for.’ She flapped a hand at Daisy. ‘Go on. Be on your way. I’ll telephone them to say you’ll be there this afternoon.’
Daisy went to the cloakroom to fetch her uniform jacket and cap, deep in thought. Although Mrs Green had been dismissive of her concerns, she couldn’t help wondering if she was being sent away for asking too many questions.
Shrugging, she picked up her handbag and went through to the canteen to say goodbye to Lily and June.
‘They’re sending me to Eastchurch,’ she said.
‘Lucky thing – if you see Roland, give him my love and tell him to write,’ Lily said.
‘Don’t be daft, Lily. How can you say she’s lucky? It’s dangerous – all those raids,’ June protested. She turned to Daisy. ‘Why are they sending you?’ she asked.
‘They’re short-handed.’
‘I’ll worry about you.’
‘So will I,’ Lily said. ‘I’m sorry for being so thoughtless. It’s just – I haven’t heard from Roland and I’m worried.’
‘I know you are. I’ll look out for him.’
‘Thanks. Tell him I miss him. I know it’s difficult with the raids and all, but I need to know if he’s all right.’
‘I will. And don’t worry about me. My dad thinks they’ll leave the airfield alone now - turn their attention to the other bases,’ Daisy said.
To her relief there was no one there when she got home. She hadn’t looked forward to telling her parents where she was off to. Dad wouldn’t be happy about it. She would leave them a note. She went upstairs to pack a spare uniform shirt and clean underwear. A few toiletries and her remaining store of makeup went into the bag and she sighed, looking around the room she had shared with Sylvia for most of their lives.
She grinned, imagining the letter she’d write to her sister. She may not have been able to join the WAAFs, but she would be serving on an RAF station like her. She wasn’t worried about further air raids. From what her father said, the last raid had completely wrecked the airfield and the few personnel left were engaged in clearing up and repairs. Surely Dad was right in thinking the Luftwaffe would turn their attention elsewhere now.
She went out of the back door and let herself into the alley that ran along behind the houses. It was a bit of a short cut to the High Street and she would avoid the sight of the bombed houses at the end of the road.
The bus came along just as she got to the stop. It was almost empty, and she was glad no one she knew was on it. She wasn’t in the mood for chatting. She stared out of the window, although she scarcely took in the familiar view of the marshy fields, giving way to the low hills that formed the eastern end of the Island. She was reliving that last conversation with Mrs Green. The supervisor seemed angry with her for mentioning the missing goods and she couldn’t help wondering if she was involved. She couldn’t really believe it. Mrs Green was so strict and her eagle eyes missed nothing that went on in the canteen. No. It must be the manager. He was the one who ordered the stores and kept an eye on supplies. It would be easy for him to siphon off a few extras for his friends and family. Rationing was getting worse and people might not be too worried about where their ‘little extras’ came from.
Daisy remembered her mother talking about something a neighbour had said. It was easy to get round the rules if you knew the right person, she’d whispered, tapping her nose. Mum had been indignant. ‘As if I’d do such a thing.’
Was Mr Browning a ‘right person’, she wondered.
The bus started up the hill that led to Minster Hospital and Daisy shivered, thinking of the injured airmen who were taken there after the last raid. A bit later the bus lurched to a halt and she realised they had reached Eastchurch village. She hadn’t been to this part of the Island since last summer, just before war was declared. She and Bob had walked along the cliffs all the way to Warden Point and then made their way to a pub in the village for a drink, before going home on the bus.
Sighing nostalgically, she got off the bus and began the half mile walk to the airfield. As she approached her mood changed, and she looked around in dismay. Curls of smoke still rose from the stricken aircraft and men were working frantically to repair and rebuild the surrounding buildings.
She went into the NAAFI building and knocked on the door of the office but no one answered. As she hesitated, not knowing what to do, a girl in NAAFI uniform entered the building.
‘You must be the new girl,’ she said.
‘I’m Daisy. I’ve been working at Sheerness.’
‘Barbara,’ the other girl said with a smile. ‘I don’t know why they sent you. Most of the personnel have gone since that last raid. There’s just a few mechanics and communications chaps left. And the maintenance staff, working on the buildings.’
‘Who else works here?’ Daisy asked.
‘There’s only me and the RAF cook now. Mr Browning, the manager, comes up a couple of times a week to check on me.’ She laughed. ‘You know Mr B I guess.’
‘I do. I don’t think he likes me.’ Daisy thought it best to keep her real feelings to herself.
/> ‘Don’t worry about that. He’s a grouch. Always finding fault. Still, you must know that.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, I do the best I can.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
‘Well, don’t listen to my grumbles. Come on, I’ll show you to your billet. It’s not far.’
‘Is it all right to leave the canteen unattended?’
‘There won’t be anyone in till later. I need to show you the way.’ She took Daisy’s bag and locked the door.
As they set off down the lane, Daisy said, ‘I’m sure I can find the way. Is it in the village? I know the place quite well.’
‘Are you a local then?’
‘Lived on the Island all my life. I used to walk all over here with my boyfriend.’
‘Lucky you. Where is he now?’
‘Abroad.’ Daisy didn’t want to go into details and changed the subject. ‘Where are you from?’
‘London. My mum was quite pleased I got a posting down here. She thought it would be safer.’ Barbara gave a rueful laugh. ‘Little did she know.’
‘It must have been awful.’
Barbara shuddered. ‘I’d rather not talk about it.’ She pushed open a farm gate and led the way past a barn to a row of cottages. ‘Here it is. Mrs Lucas will make you welcome. I’ll leave you to settle in,’ she said, handing Daisy her bag. ‘Come back when you’re ready and I’ll show you round.’
Daisy knocked on the cottage door and introduced herself.
Mrs Lucas was a thin woman with grey hair in an untidy bun. She welcomed Daisy kindly but bit her lip, her forehead creased in a worried frown. ‘I don’t know what they’re thinking, sending young girls like you and Barbara to work here. I know there’s a war on and everything and everyone’s got to do their bit but...’ She led Daisy up a narrow flight of stairs into a low-ceilinged room with a dormer window.
‘Oh, what a pretty room,’ Daisy exclaimed, taking in the flowered curtains and matching bed spread.
‘Barbara’s just across the landing,’ Mrs Lucas said. ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable.’
Daisy's War Page 15