The Waiting Hours

by Ellie Dean

  He put his arm round her waist and smiled. ‘You’ve got me to keep you warm,’ he murmured against her cheek. ‘Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  The door slammed behind them and the girls looked at one another and broke into giggles. ‘I reckon none of us will sleep tonight, so why don’t we go to the pub?’ said Maisie.

  Agreeing this was a very good idea, there was a bustle as they prepared for the chill weather outside. Once Carol had fastened the leash to Nipper’s collar, they set off with Betty arm in arm between them, a shielded torch lighting the way to prevent her from falling down a rabbit scraping or tripping over a tree root.

  The pub was unusually quiet, with just a few farmhands and land girls sitting in desultory knots about the room. ‘Blimey,’ muttered Pru with a grimace. ‘It’s like it were before the Yanks turned up.’

  ‘We’re certainly going to miss them when they do leave,’ said Carol, shrugging off her coat. ‘I’ve just got enough to get a round in. Cider as usual?’

  Having tied Nipper’s leash to the leg of a chair, she nodded greetings to everyone and headed for the bar to order the drinks. ‘It’s quiet in here tonight, Mrs Claxton.’

  ‘Aye, that it is. You mark my words, Carol, there’s something afoot. I can feel it in me water.’ She poured the cider into glasses and put them on a tray. ‘But it’s good to see Betty up and about again. I’ve missed having her about the place.’

  ‘I think she’s planning on coming back to you before the start of term, if that’s all right, Mrs Claxton. You do still have her room free, don’t you?’

  The older woman nodded. ‘She’s already said she would, and she knows she’s always welcome here.’

  42

  Mill Bay, Devon

  Frank wiped his hands on the oily cloth and walked back into the Nissen hut workshop to sign off the repairs he’d done to the LST. There was definitely something in the air, for the slipway and bay were rapidly being cleared of serviceable craft and there was a buzz of excitement around the place. He knew from gossip that the rehearsals had been going on in Lyme Bay for some time, but there had been more urgency recently in getting the landing ships seaworthy, and the rumours were growing by the minute that tonight might actually see the start of the long-awaited invasion into France.

  He went back outside to rid himself, not only of the smell and taste of petrol and oil fumes, but of the sense of unease that had been plaguing him all day. He couldn’t put a finger on what bothered him, and nothing had presented itself to give him any sign that his misgivings were based in reality, yet the feeling persisted.

  He stood by the slipway where the larger boats were being taken out of the water on a huge wheeled trestle and guided up on a steel rail so they could be worked on by the small army of volunteer engineers like himself. The sergeant in charge was already ordering the men to get the LST back in the water, and as Frank watched, the American boat slid down, and within minutes the crew had her out into the bay and heading down the estuary to the sea. She’d be going to either Dartmouth or Plymouth to be loaded with small-track tanks, men and supplies, just as they’d all been doing over the past week.

  He lit a cigarette and regarded the crescent bay where a few houses clung to the side of the wooded hill. It possessed little of the drama of Cliffehaven’s white cliffs and jagged headlands, but had its own, softer beauty in the sandy beaches and hidden coves to be found beyond the headland where the estuary opened out. The light was different too, putting everything into sharp focus, enhancing the verdant green of the surrounding hills and the blue of the water, and now, as the sun slowly sank, it diffused everything in a golden, hazy glow. The sight eased his troubled thoughts and he gave a small sigh of pleasure.

  ‘Idling on the job, Da?’

  Frank smiled in delight and gave his son a hug. ‘Where did you spring from?’

  ‘I’ve got three hours before I have to be back in Brixham, so I thought I’d come and see what you’ve been up to.’ Brendon gazed out to the water where a group of smaller landing craft were assembling. ‘It’s a lovely place, isn’t it? Shame there’s a war on to spoil the serenity.’

  ‘I’d like to bring your mother here for a proper summer holiday once it’s all over,’ said Frank.

  ‘She’d like that,’ said Brendon softly. ‘And I’m glad she’s feeling so much better about things. I have to admit her letter made me quite tearful, but knowing she understands what we’ve both been through has helped no end.’

  Frank nodded. ‘I agree, and we can thank Peggy for making her see. It couldn’t have been easy for her.’ He turned to look at his son, his expression solemn as the unnamed dread came once more to the surface. ‘Is tonight the start of the big one, Brendon? Will you be off to France?’

  ‘As far as I know it’s only a full dress rehearsal. Those in charge tell us very little, even the general, but I suspect we’ll be warned beforehand if it is to be the real thing.’

  Frank breathed more easily. ‘I don’t suppose you could wangle me a place on board with you?’

  Brendon shook his head. ‘Sorry, Da. Naval personnel only from now on. I was pushing my luck by asking my commander’s permission last time.’ His dark blue eyes sparkled. ‘But if you want to see what we’re up to, I might be able to sort something out. It would mean getting you a pass or transfer somehow, which might be tricky, but I’m sure I can think up a good excuse.’

  Frank perked up. ‘Aye, I’d like that, as long as it doesn’t make trouble for you.’

  Brendon grinned. ‘Get your things together while I speak to the sergeant. I borrowed a sporty little car, so it won’t take long to get there, and we can talk on the way.’

  Frank watched his son stride off, so tall and straight and full of life that his heart ached with love and pride – and a sudden overwhelming fear. He shook it off determinedly and went to collect his bag. He didn’t believe in omens; the talk of invasion had merely spooked him. It was just a rehearsal. Nothing would go wrong, and when it was all over he’d tell Brendon how close he’d come to thinking he could see into the future – and they’d have a good laugh about it.

  Carol and the other girls were just finishing their last round of drinks when the heavy curtain over the door was swept aside to let in a blast of cold air, swiftly followed by Brendon and Frank.

  Brendon rushed to Betty, while Carol leapt to her feet and flew into Frank’s arms. ‘It’s so lovely to see you,’ she breathed, disentangling herself from Frank’s bear hug. ‘But what are you both doing here?’

  He quickly explained Brendon’s plan for him to watch the exercise from Coombe Farm’s top field. ‘To be sure I don’t know how he managed it,’ he said, his gaze full of pride as he watched his son talking to the landlady, ‘but I’ve got a forty-eight-hour transfer to Brixham – only Brixham aren’t actually aware of it.’

  ‘But where will you stay? It’s too late to disturb Jack and Millicent, and you can’t possibly share our billet.’

  ‘It’s all arranged,’ said a beaming Brendon. ‘He’s staying here.’ He clamped his arm around a glowing Betty. ‘I think this calls for a drink, don’t you? Just the one, mind. I have to report for duty in an hour.’

  43

  The George Inn

  Dolly had suffered a week of absolute hell, tormented by her thoughts and trying to work out a way of telling her daughter about Felix without causing her too much pain. She’d gone for long walks, sat in cafés drinking cups of tea she didn’t want, and had even driven out towards Beeson twice, determined to get it over with, but losing her nerve at the last minute.

  She’d thought about booking a room at the Welcome Inn in the hope it might make her focus more clearly on what she had to do, but for the first time in her life, she’d chickened out. ‘Come on, Dolly,’ she muttered. ‘Do buck up and phone the wretched woman before you lose your nerve again.’

  Finishing her glass of sherry, she went downstairs to use the public telephone that was in an ornately decorated wood
en booth by the reception desk. Dialling the number, she put a coin in the slot and waited with her finger hovering over button A for when it was answered.

  ‘I’m sorry, caller, but that number is temporarily out of order. Please try later,’ said the girl at the other end.

  ‘But this is an emergency,’ protested Dolly.

  ‘Everything’s an emergency these days.’ She disconnected the call.

  Dolly angrily replaced the receiver, reclaimed her coin and then changed her mind. Dialling Hugh’s private line, she tapped her fingernails on the metal box in impatience.

  ‘Has the Nightingale been heard?’ she asked before he’d finished saying hello.

  ‘She sang from a different tree. All is well, and she has a new nest.’

  The relief was enormous. ‘Oh, thank God,’ she breathed. ‘Do you know where?’

  ‘I really couldn’t say,’ he replied carefully. ‘Are things resolved your end?’

  ‘Not quite.’

  ‘Then get on with it, Dolly. You’re needed here.’ He disconnected the call.

  Dolly ground her teeth, furious to be cut off for the second time – and doubly furious that Hugh was ordering her about like a schoolgirl. She took a deep breath, then realised that of course he was cross with her – everyone seemed to be at the moment – and it was time to stop dithering and get on with doing what she’d come for.

  She went to the reception desk. ‘I shall be leaving tomorrow morning,’ she said to the elderly man in charge. ‘Please make up my bill and send it to my room.’

  ‘Your bill is already covered, Mrs Cardew,’ he replied rather snootily. ‘A gentleman from London telephoned before your arrival.’

  She saw the look in his eye and the curl of his lip, but didn’t put him straight. She had quite enough to contend with without dirty-minded hotel workers. Going up the stairs, she started to pack her small bag, her thoughts on Carol and how on earth she was going to admit that she’d lied to her all her life. She could only hope Carol would forgive her, and that because she’d obviously come to trust Felix enough to talk about her private life, she would accept him as her father. But whichever way she looked at it, it was a mess, and if she didn’t tell her soon, Felix would – and that was the last thing she wanted. It was her mess, so it was up to her to sort it out before it became a total disaster.

  Coombe Farm

  The milking and morning chores had been completed in record time despite their late night, and the girls hurried into the kitchen to help carry chairs, blankets and baskets of food up the hill. Carol had warned Millicent that Frank would be coming, and so she’d added more bread, cheese and small vegetable pasties to the basket.

  Emerging from the farmhouse, they saw the giant figure of Frank striding towards them, and Carol waited for him as the others waved and began the steep climb. He took the heavy basket from her, patted an over-excited Nipper and they set off in the wake of the others.

  ‘Did Brendon give you any hints of what we might see today?’ asked Carol.

  ‘It’s just another rehearsal,’ he replied. Seeing her crestfallen expression he smiled. ‘But it’s going to be big, with everything thrown at it, so it should be quite a show.’

  ‘Hey! Hold on a minute! Wait for me!’

  They turned in shock to see a rather dishevelled Dolly attempting to follow them up the uneven ground in her high heels. ‘What on earth are you doing here, Mum?’ called Carol.

  ‘I’ll tell you later,’ she called back, struggling to keep her balance.

  ‘Take those shoes off, woman,’ roared Frank through his laughter. ‘The cows won’t mind.’

  Dolly glared at him, then eyed the curious cows which were slowly advancing on her, took off her shoes and ran. She was out of breath by the time she’d reached them, and they were both startled by her untidy hair, gaunt face and the dark shadows under her eyes.

  ‘Are you all right, Mum?’ gasped Carol, still unable to get over seeing her so unexpectedly. ‘You look as if you haven’t slept for a week.’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she panted with a grim expression. ‘I’ll tell you later.’

  ‘Come on then. We don’t want to miss anything,’ said Frank. ‘Would you be wanting a hand there, Dolly?’ he teased. ‘You seem a bit out of condition.’

  ‘That’s enough cheek from you, Frank Reilly,’ she retorted, swiping away his hand before setting off again. ‘What are you doing here, anyway? And why are we climbing this blasted, impossible hill in the middle of the night?’

  ‘It’s seven o’clock, Mum; hardly the middle of the night,’ protested Carol, who’d been up before four. ‘And we’re going up here to watch the big rehearsal down in the bay.’

  ‘Whatever for?’

  ‘Brendon will be taking part at some point, and Ida’s young chap, Herby, will be too. As we’ve been watching the build-up to it over the past week, we didn’t want to miss the finale.’

  They finished the climb in silence, and once Frank had been introduced to Jack, Millicent and Ida, they set up the chairs, wrapped themselves in the rugs and opened the picnic basket.

  ‘What be happen to you’m?’ asked a wide-eyed Millicent, eyeing Dolly askance from head to foot. ‘Looks like you’m been through a hedge backwards.’

  Dolly took a restorative breath and let it out on a sigh. ‘My friend lent me a car, and unfortunately, it wasn’t all that reliable on steep hills. It got slower and slower, and almost stalled when I tried to change it down to a lower gear, so I stopped and pulled on the handbrake.’ She gave the ghost of a smile. ‘It didn’t hold and the damned car rolled backwards, straight into a hedge, the rear wheels stuck in a ditch. Hence my appearance,’ she said with a flourish. ‘I spent ages trying to push it out, and in the end a very nice chap stopped and helped, otherwise I’d still be there.’

  ‘Honestly, Mum, you’re not safe to be on the road.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault this time,’ she said stoutly. ‘Though what my friend will say when he sees the state of the car, I don’t know. As for the state I’m in …’ She regarded her reflection in her compact mirror and gave a theatrical shudder.

  Carol realised she was playing to her audience, but could tell that something was worrying her other than the damage to the car. She watched her repair her make-up and tidy her hair, curious as to what had brought her here. ‘You clearly didn’t come down to watch the rehearsals, Mum, so why are you here – and more to the point, how did you get around the civilian travel ban?’

  Dolly was clearly in a better mood now she’d fixed her make-up, for she smiled brightly and patted Carol’s cheek. ‘I wanted to make sure you were all right, darling. As to the ban, I have a friend who sees to inconvenient little things like that.’ She brought the subject to a halt by turning to Frank. ‘What time is the fun supposed to begin?’

  ‘Brendon didn’t say, but I got the impression it could be quite soon,’ said Frank.

  Dolly lit a cigarette, regarded the binoculars everyone had slung round their necks and scrabbled in her large handbag. ‘Oh, good, I didn’t forget them,’ she said, drawing out a velvet bag which contained a pair of dainty opera glasses.

  Carol burst out laughing and gave her a hug as the other girls giggled, Jack smirked, and Millicent looked po-faced. ‘You are utterly priceless, and as daft as a brush, but I do love you, Mum.’

  Dolly hugged her back and frowned. ‘I love you too, darling, but I don’t see what’s so funny,’ she said in bewilderment. ‘All my friends carry them because they’re so useful.’

  There was really no answer to that, so they swallowed their giggles and concentrated their binoculars on the sweep of the bay, and the line of ships just visible on the far horizon.

  44

  Above Blackpool Cove

  Felix had slept surprisingly well considering all the things that were on his mind. He’d eaten a hearty breakfast, and driven out to the hills above the cove just after dawn to discover that five other senior non-combatant retired offic
ers were there to oversee the operation. He’d have preferred to monitor the events alone, but he parked the car neatly in line with the others and got out to exchange salutes and pleasantries before taking a bit of a walk to stretch his legs and get some fresh air.

  The entire beachhead had been transformed over the last week, with defences built up by the engineers, rolls of barbed wire, gun emplacements and dummy pillboxes to emulate what the men would find on Utah beach. The few barrage balloons above the exercise area floated high from their anchoring cables and moved gently in the light breeze like benign silver whales. It looked as if the weather would hold, for the sky was quite clear, and the sea was calm. However, he knew how swiftly things could change down here, and he’d been fooled before by a sudden squall of wind and blinding rain that had churned up the seas.

  He checked his watch. There was just over half an hour to go before the barrage was due to begin, and some time after that he’d get sight of the first wave of landing craft coming around Start Point.

  Raising his powerful binoculars to check that the artillery men were properly deployed on shore and in the gun emplacements above Torcross village, he slowly panned across the line of pillboxes to the high barbed-wire fencing that was supposed to protect the village from the naval bombardment and deter landings – and then up to the clifftop guns.

  Satisfied, he then turned his attention to the Royal Sands Hotel, which had already been badly damaged by shellfire during the recent rehearsals, and actually managed to pick out the knot of armed military policemen passing the time of day with men from the Royal Engineers. He continued to scan the Ley, the foxholes and new fortifications in the hills where men playing the part of the enemy defenders were waiting by their guns for the signal to open fire.

  He gave a sigh of relief. It was a good start, for it looked as if everyone was where they should be. ‘And long may it last,’ he muttered, turning his attention out to sea where the naval destroyers had drawn closer to shore in preparation for the bombardment.