Bluebirds

by Margaret Mayhew

  ‘There’s no near enough with what’s acceptable,’ the instructor impressed on them from the start. ‘You’re working to thousandths of an inch and it’s got to be exact. If you strip down an engine and adjust it and replace it precisely according to what’s laid down in the book, then every part and every component will work sweet as a song when it’s all reassembled.’

  Winnie found that very satisfying.

  At the end of the course she passed out as Leading Aircraftwoman Jervis with a mark of eighty per cent, and she sewed her props on her sleeve with pride. When she was told to put in for an area where she would like to be sent, she wrote down Suffolk and to her delight she was posted back to Flaxton.

  ‘Thought we’d got rid of you,’ Chiefy said when he saw her arrive. ‘You’re like a bad penny.’

  But later on she found out that he had asked specially to have her back. She was put to work on engines in the Maintenance hangar and though some of the men in the gang pulled her leg at first, and others resented her new status, they all got used to her after a while and she was accepted. There were several more WAAF flight mechs at the station now so she was no longer such an oddity

  Quite often she would see the American B17s flying over but she could never tell if it was the Sassy Sally because they were always too far away; in any case she would have a different crew by now. There goes Texas an’ Minnesota, she said to herself as she watched the bombers, remembering names of the states. An’ Maine an’ Georgia, an’ Oklahoma an’ Tennessee, Kentucky an’ Idaho . . . Virgil had told her the crews came from all over America.

  He’d written a letter to her when she was at Halton, saying that he had finished his tour and had been given thirty days leave. He was off to take a look around, he’d said. She’d got a postcard from London with a picture of Buckingham Palace on it and an X marked on one of the windows that he said was his room. Then there had been more cards from Oxford, from Stratford-upon-Avon, from Wales and Somerset, Devon and Cornwall. The last one had been from a remote place in Scotland. He had said nothing in any of them about whether he was ever coming back to Suffolk to do another tour and she thought that he must have been sent back to America after all.

  When the weather got better and the evenings lighter, she sometimes biked down to the Fox and Grapes with the rest of the gang. There seemed to be more Americans than ever going there. Once she met Nora who was with an American army sergeant. Buzz, she told Winnie, in a whispered aside had gone back home at the end of his tour. She had introduced the grinning sergeant whose hair, at odds with his name which was Curly, looked like bristles on a brush. He came from somewhere called Wyoming, Nora hissed, and he said he had a big ranch. Privately, Winnie doubted it. She’d heard that a lot of them pretended things like that.

  One evening when she was there, watching a darts match in progress in a corner of the bar, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned her head and saw Taffy standing there behind her.

  ‘Hallo, Winnie,’ he said softly. ‘Remember me?’

  She went bright red. ‘I’m with some others . . .’

  ‘Just so long as you’re not with one of these Yanks.’

  ‘That’s got nothin’ to do with you.’

  ‘Everything about you has to do with me.’

  He moved round, putting himself between her and the others who were watching the darts match, isolating her. His eyes hadn’t left her face and she looked away from their gaze.

  ‘I told you, I don’t want to see you any more.’

  ‘But I don’t believe you. Look how you blushed just now when you saw it was me. You wouldn’t have done that if I didn’t mean something to you.’

  She looked round desperately for escape. He frightened her. He’d always frightened her. Confused her. Sometimes she had the feeling that she wouldn’t be able to hold out against him for ever.

  The bar was so crowded now that it was difficult to move. If she just left the pub Taffy would only come after her and it was a four-mile bike ride back to the station in the dark.

  ‘Leave me alone,’ she said pleadingly. ‘You don’t mean anythin’ to me.’

  But he moved even closer still so that she had to lean backwards to keep her distance. ‘Oh yes I do, girl. You know I do.’

  There was a stir by the entrance as yet more people came in. It was another group of Americans. She could see their olive uniforms and hear their drawl. ‘Six beers, bud!’ one of them called out to the bar, and there was laughter and back-slapping as they joined the others there. ‘Bloody Yanks,’ a cockney voice said near her. ‘They’ll drink the bleedin’ place dry.’

  Then she saw Virgil. He must have been one of the last to enter because he was standing just inside the doorway, on the step, and looking round.

  ‘Excuse me,’ she said to Taffy very firmly. ‘There’s a friend of mine over there.’

  She squeezed her way towards him, ducking under drinking arms and edging between people. Someone spilled beer all over her shoulder and a cigarette end burned her hand. Virgil saw her before she reached him and pushed through to meet her.

  ‘Gee, Winnie . . .’ He was grinning down at her.

  ‘You’re back,’ she said unnecessarily.

  ‘Looks like it. Howya doin’, then?’

  ‘All right, thanks.’ She rubbed her burned hand surreptitiously behind her back. ‘How ’bout you?’

  ‘Fine ’n dandy. I’m doin’ another tour, like I told you I wanted. Thought first off they was gonna send me back stateside, but they’re short of good waist gunners over here. Keep on losin’ them all the time. Worst place to be in the ship.’

  She said, troubled: ‘Are you still with the Sassy Sally?’

  ‘Nope. Got another Fort now. Matter o’ fact, she’s named for you.’

  She stared at him. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yeah, you.’ He grinned. ‘Called her Wattagal Winnie! I told the other guys ’bout you an’ they kinda liked the idea. Got this picture painted of you on the nose.’

  ‘A picture of me?’ She went very red, thinking of the naked women she’d seen fly over.

  He read her face and laughed. ‘Oh, it ain’t like Sassy Sally or some of the others . . . I told the guy that did it ’bout the way you look in those blue dungarees an’ that checked shirt you wear on the farm, an’ how your hair’s all curly, an’ ’bout those blue eyes of yours, an’ he painted a real pretty picture of you like that, an’ put the name underneath. You’ve done a coupla missions already.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ Her blushed deepened even more. She felt both embarrassed and overwhelmed. An American bomber named after her! ‘It’s very nice of you all.’

  ‘It’s great havin’ you with us.’ He pointed to her shoulder suddenly. ‘What happened there?’

  ‘Someone spilled beer over me.’

  ‘Didn’t mean that. What’s the new badge mean?’

  ‘Leadin’ aircraftwoman.’

  ‘That since you done that course?’

  She nodded. She would have liked to tell him about the eighty per cent marks but that might have sounded like boasting. He was gazing at her admiringly.

  ‘Like I said, watta gal!’

  She saw then that he had something new on his arm too. The sergeant’s chevron was different, with two rockers beneath the wrong-way-up stripes.

  ‘What about you an’ that?’

  He looked casual, almost modest. ‘Technical sergeant – that’s what that is. An’ that’s ’bout as far as I c’n go as a gunner. Still, it ain’t bad. My folks’ll be pleased. Gee, it’s good to see you again. I’ve been in here a coupla times this week, hopin’ I’d find you. Just wrote you a letter, but I wasn’t sure if you’d been posted some place else now, so I ain’t sent it yet. You get that other one I wrote you a while back? An’ all those postcards?’

  She nodded again. ‘Thanks. I couldn’t write back ’cos I didn’t know where you were.’

  ‘I was movin’ all over the place. Had a swell time in London first. Went to the th
eatre, saw the sights, found some great clubs for dancin’ . . .’

  She thought of him as she’d first seen him, jitterbugging with the blond girl in the mauve dress and high heels. ‘How was Buckingham Palace?’

  He grinned. ‘Real fancy. He’s a great guy, your King. Say, I didn’t know the Jerries’d dropped bombs on them too? Strikes me he an’ the Queen ought to be sent away some place safe. Canada, maybe.’

  ‘Oh, they’d never leave us,’ she said. ‘Never.’

  ‘Guess they know best. Wouldn’t want to leave much if I was them either. It sure is a beautiful country. I ain’t never seen such pretty places, an’ I sure loved those great big old houses, an’ the castles, an’ all that kinda stuff . . . Never knew you had mountains before. Got right up as far as Scotland. Couldn’t understand what in heck they was sayin’ but we got along just fine.’

  A hand fell on her shoulder. Taffy had appeared beside her. ‘I’m taking you home, Winnie.’ His fingers dug in hard. ‘Come on.’

  Virgil looked at Taffy and then back at Winnie. ‘You with this guy?’

  She hesitated. Several other RAF had gathered behind Taffy. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene, or any trouble.

  ‘No, but it’s all right. I was goin’ anyway.’

  Virgil said slowly: ‘Well, that’s OK by me, if you want to. But it ain’t OK if it’s only because this guy wants you to. You want to stay, you stay.’

  Taffy took hold of her arm and began to pull her away. ‘You keep away from her, Yank. She’s coming with me. She doesn’t want anything to do with bloody Yanks. She’s not that kind of girl.’

  Virgil looked at him again. ‘Reckon I know what kind of girl Winnie is, an’ it ain’t the sort that likes bein’ pushed around . . . I figure you oughta let go of her, mister. Let her make up her own mind what she wants to do.’

  Some of the Americans had turned round now and were standing behind Virgil, listening and watching. The RAF moved into a semi-circle round Taffy. One of them growled: ‘That’s his girl, mate. Piss off!’

  Winnie said quickly: ‘I ought to go, Virgil . . . I must get back.’

  But Virgil was barring the way. ‘Just a moment, honey. If you don’t want to go with this guy, then I’m stoppin’ him takin’ you. An’ I figure if he’s got to drag you outta here, then that’s ’cos you ain’t real keen on goin’ with him. So, I’m tellin’ you, mister, to let go of the lady right now.’

  Taffy bunched his fist. ‘Get out of my way, Yank!’

  ‘I ain’t doin’ that. Not ’til you take your hands off her.’

  ‘Then you bloody asked for it!’

  Taffy dropped Winnie’s arm and swung his closed fist. Virgil staggered back as it caught him in the face. Silence had fallen suddenly in the bar. Everyone stood quite still. Winnie held her breath. Virgil stood wiping the blood slowly from his nose, and then he went for Taffy.

  The room exploded into uproar as Americans and RAF fell on each other. Glasses were smashed, tables and chairs overturned. The women screamed as the men crashed about, swinging punches, falling down and rolling over and over on the floor, grappling together. It was like a saloon fight scene from a Western.

  Winnie backed against the wall and watched in horror. She had lost sight of Virgil who was somewhere beneath a heaving pile of bodies. She shut her eyes as fists were raised and blows fell, and then opened them again to find Virgil and Taffy locked in furious combat at her feet. Behind the bar, drowned out by the noise, the landlord was mouthing into his telephone.

  Presently there was a loud squeal of jeep brakes outside and a group of American Military Police, truncheons flailing, burst into the Fox and Grapes.

  ‘Here’s to your very good health, Squadron Officer Newman.’

  ‘And to yours, Squadron Leader Dutton.’ Felicity raised her glass. ‘You look awfully well.’

  Speedy not only looked well but positively respectable. That was surely a new RAF cap, and what had happened to the old check scarf? The dishevelled young flying officer whom she had first met more than four years ago seemed to be gradually disappearing with passing time and promotion. She wondered whether he, too, saw a very different person sitting opposite him now from the new and nervous WAAF officer that she had been.

  He beamed at her and looked suddenly exactly the same old Speedy. ‘All the better for seeing you, my dear, as the Wolf said to Red Riding Hood. And how is life treating you in your exalted station at Bomber HQ?’

  ‘I’m not very exalted. It’s mostly routine admin. Quite dull, really. I feel quite remote from the reality of what’s going on up in the skies, sometimes. Though that was a blessing at first, I must say.’ She put down her wine glass. ‘What have you been up to since I last saw you?’

  He waved a hand airily. ‘This and that. The odd sweep here and there. Spot of escort duty playing little friend to the Yanks as they set forth on their kamikaze raids. We try to swot the Jerries away from them only we can’t go with them all the way – that’s the big snag. Not enough juice. After that they’re on their own, poor blighters. The Huns give ’em hell when we’ve scarpered. I wouldn’t be in their shoes for all the tea in China.’

  He had turned up unexpectedly, as he usually did, and swept her off to dinner. The restaurant was a rather dreary place and the waitress ancient and very slow, but she smiled at Speedy as she set the plates in front of them and he winked at her in return. When she had waddled away he prodded doubtfully at his food. ‘I say, I hope this isn’t horse, or something.’

  ‘I don’t know how you’d tell. It probably tastes just like anything else.’

  He chewed hard for a moment, considering. ‘Definitely an old nag, I’d say. Well past its prime. Lucky you had the fish, Titania. A very wise choice. Thank God the war will soon be over. First thing to be done when we’ve popped over the Channel is to liberate Paris so we can get a decent meal again. I bet if the French are eating horses as well as frogs, they’re making sure they’re not nags like this one. I’ll take you out to dinner in Gay Paree, Titania. It beats High Wycombe any day.’

  She laughed. ‘I think it’s going to be quite a while before you can do that.’

  ‘Well, thanks to the Yanks the writing’s on the wall for Adolf. Say another six months, or a year, and he’ll be cashing in his chips.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, Speedy. Will you stay in the RAF after the war?’

  ‘Hard to say at the moment. Depends what Civvy Street holds for the likes of me. Can’t do much else besides fly a kite.’

  ‘You once told me that you were going to sell encyclopedias to housewives and then buy a thirty-foot yacht and sail round the world.’

  ‘Did I really say that? Jolly good idea, in a way, but somehow it’s lost its appeal.’ He put down his knife and fork. ‘The fact is, I was rather hoping that you might be part of the future.’

  Her heart sank at his words and at the earnest look on his face. ‘Oh, Speedy . . .’

  ‘You know how I feel about you – never made any bones about it. No point. The thing is, there comes a time when even a chap like me wants to settle down . . . Any chance you might marry me one fine day, do you think? I’m not such a bad bloke, when you get to know me properly.’

  She looked down at the dry little piece of white fish on her plate, wishing that he hadn’t spoken. She was so fond of Speedy and enjoyed his company so much – he was like a tonic. If she married him perhaps she might come to love him too, quite easily – there was so much that was lovable about him. But she wasn’t sure that it could ever be the love he deserved and needed. It wouldn’t be fair on him, or fair of her to be tempted just because she was often lonely and miserable – to risk his happiness, as well as hers. One day he would meet the girl who would be right for him.

  ‘I’m sorry, Speedy. Truly sorry.’

  His face fell. And then he grinned at her cheerfully. ‘Well, no harm in asking. Faint heart ne’er won fair lady, or whatever the saying is.’

  ‘Your heart’
s never been faint, Speedy. You’re one of the best and bravest people I know.’

  He looked pleased. ‘Really? I say . . .’ He twirled the stem of his wineglass. ‘Shouldn’t pry, of course. Nothing to do with me, but is there someone else? Pretty well bound to be with a girl like you.’

  ‘There is someone,’ she said slowly. ‘But it can never come to anything.’

  ‘How so?’

  She looked down at her plate again. ‘Because he’s married.’

  ‘Oh. Well, that’s a bit of a snag, it must be said.’ He looked at her hopefully. ‘You don’t think you’ll get over him – eventually.’

  ‘I don’t seem to have done yet, and it’s been a long time.’

  ‘Do you mind my asking, do I know the chap?’

  ‘Yes, as a matter of fact.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be old Palmer, would it? Our CO at Colston? By any chance?’

  She could feel the colour rushing into her face. ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be surprised if it was. Always thought he was rather keen on you. Can’t blame him. Tricky situation, though.’

  ‘Don’t ask me any more.’

  ‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ He put his hand on hers and squeezed it gently. ‘I want what will make you happy, Titania. That’s all. Just remember that. And if I can ever help in anyway, you’ve only to give the old word.’

  She lifted her head and smiled at him mistily. ‘Oh Speedy, you’re an angel. An absolute angel.’

  ‘Funny thing but no-one’s ever called me that before. Lots of other things, but never that.’ He let go of her hand abruptly. ‘Now eat up your fish and I’ll finish my horse, then we’ll call Desdemona over and see what she’s got for pudding.’