Brave Faces

by Mary Arden

  ‘I’m afraid dinner will be a little late tonight,’ our poor mother announced, ‘but at least the water will be hot by now so we can all have baths, get changed and forget about this beastly kitchen for a while!’

  It was eight-thirty by the time we sat down for dinner, and we were all so hungry by then that we’d have eaten the meat raw but, as it turned out, the lamb was just right, the roast potatoes crisp, the vegetables done to a ‘T’, and the gravy that William had made was rich and smooth.

  ‘Well done darling!’ my father said blissfully unaware of the earlier drama. ‘You see it’s not so difficult is it?’ My mother looked as if she was about to pick up her plate and throw it at him, but somehow managed to restrain herself and gave my father a triumphant smile instead.

  A week later the household was back to normal: Nancy, our cook, was back at the helm in the kitchen and she couldn’t help but chuckle over my mother’s mistake with the regulator knob; Agnes was cleaning the silver in the pantry that had been recently returned from the bank and Alice was cleaning the house thoroughly, tut-tutting as she went over Pansy’s half-hearted efforts.

  One morning after breakfast I decided to walk over to the Derwent’s house to see if the boys were back yet, as I hoped they’d come over to play tennis with us or come one evening and play silly card games. When I got there I saw a lovely red MG sports car in their drive, which I knew belonged to Edward’s best friend, Henry. I’d known Henry Neville ever since we’d moved to Woking, as he often spent part of the holidays with the Derwent family. The last time I saw him I thought how good looking he was, tall with sandy red hair, blue-green eyes and a husky voice with a drawl just like a film star. I had a bit of a crush on him. His father had given him the MG for his twenty-first birthday and I longed to have a ride in it but realised that a man of his age was unlikely to take much notice of a fifteen-year old schoolgirl.

  Just as I was going into the house, Henry walked out. He was wearing an old pair of shorts and an open necked shirt and was carrying a bucket full of water. I suddenly felt so shy that I could hardly look at him let alone speak.

  ‘Well hello Goldilocks!’ he said teasing me. ‘Just in time to help me clean the car!’ Henry took the wet sponge from his bucket and tossed it at me. I ducked and it narrowly missed me. I then threw it back at him and got a direct hit. His shirt was absolutely soaked. He took one look at himself and then grinning at me from ear to ear said, ‘Right, this is war!’ He dipped the sponge back into the bucket and threw it back at me with full force. This time it landed right in the middle of my chest and I was now dripping wet too. We both pointed at each other and laughed and then seeing how wet I was he pulled out his handkerchief and began to dab my shirt dry.

  Suddenly he stopped mid dab and staring at my breasts said, ‘My goodness Goldilocks you have grown since I last saw you!’

  I began to blush and seeing my discomfort Henry kindly changed the subject, ‘Oh, by the way, I heard that one of the first television sets is being exhibited in the music shop in Woking. Edward and Robert have taken their father there to have a look at it. If you’d like to see it too, I’ll run you into town.’

  I didn’t care a fig about the television set but longed to climb into Henry’s sports car and here was my opportunity, what bliss!

  ‘I’ll have to go home and change out of my wet blouse first,’ I replied.

  I quickly ran home, had a pee, changed out of my wet blouse, and then decided to do something about my hair. As I brushed my long blonde curls in front of the mirror the memory of Henry calling me ‘Goldilocks’ made me smile. A moment later I heard his MG pull up in the drive and the thought having a drive in it got me so excited that I had to go for another pee and then in my haste to get back downstairs I decided to slide down the banisters, hitching up my skirt before I did so. I went flying down, only to be met at the bottom of the stairs by Henry.

  ‘Agnes let me in,’ he said grinning from ear to ear. I stood there, stunned, my skirt now up to my waist.

  ‘Are they strong enough for me to have a go?’ he chuckled.

  I was too embarrassed and busy pulling down my skirt to reply for a moment but, once I had recovered, begged, ‘Please don’t tell my mother that I slid down the banisters, I’m supposed to behave like a lady!’

  ‘In that case,’ Henry replied, looking at me with a bit of twinkle in his eye, ‘I’d better behave like a gentleman and pretend I didn’t see what I saw.’

  I climbed into Henry’s car mindful that my mother was most probably watching from the window and careful not to show more bare flesh than necessary. I tucked my skirt between my legs, which made Henry smile, ‘Done just like a lady!’

  We drove very slowly out of the drive but once we had gone past the Derwent’s gate he put his foot down and the car took off. I loved the thrill of driving so fast.

  When we arrived at the music shop Henry came round and opened the car door for me, offering me his hand, as I climbed out of the car. He was teasing me of course treating me like a lady, but he did it so nicely that I gave him my hand and did a little curtsey.

  ‘I may as well come in and see the television as I’m here,’ he said as we spotted Edward and Robert and their father gazing in awe at what appeared to be a screen full of snow.

  ‘Wait a minute! It has to warm up first,’ said Edward excitedly as Henry and I entered the shop together. Edward came over and as usual pecked me on the cheek, but Robert simply nodded.

  We all stood watching the television until eventually an image of a man emerged out of the snow: his mouth was moving as if he was talking but we couldn’t hear a word, only static. Then, suddenly, a very clipped BBC voice was audible. He was talking about the history of television and how Yogi Baird had discovered it.

  ‘It’s early days,’ the commentator said, ‘but before too long, everyone will have a television set in their sitting room.’

  Mr Derwent was all for ordering a television set immediately, which Henry warned against doing, saying that if war was declared, all research would have to stop as the resources required to develop it would be directed towards armaments, planes and better radio equipment.

  The shop owner turned off the television and turned on a wireless set. We were all just about to leave when suddenly we heard the voice of Neville Chamberlain, the Prime Minister, on the wireless. We stood still and listened anxiously.

  ‘This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final Note stating that, unless we heard from them by 11 o’clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany.’

  After Chamberlain had finished speaking I glanced across at Edward, who had gone as white as a sheet. Mr Derwent put a hand on his son’s shoulder and looking at all of us said, ‘I think it’s time we went home now.’

  As we left the shop I looked up at a calendar on the wall.

  The date was the 3rd September 1939.

  When I asked my mother how I could help the war effort she told me the best thing we could all do for now was to try to carry on as usual, which for me was to work as hard as I could towards my School Certificate exam.

  All we seem to do at school was work, work and more work. So much so that everyone started to complain of headaches. There was a huge sigh of relief when our Head Mistress announced that each form was to put on a short play to entertain the other forms, but it was soon followed by a huge groan when she added that my form had to produce its play in French! We were not amused but at least our French teacher agreed to allow us to read the English translation so that we could understand the plot.

  Exhausted after doing so much intense work, I was very happy when we broke for half term and I was allowed to go home to see my parents for a few days.

  As soon as I got back I went into the garden to look for my father. I was horrified to
see that half the lawn, where Alice our housemaid usually hung out the washing, had now become a second vegetable patch. I found my father with several workmen discussing plans to create an air raid shelter, next to the steps that led down from the rose-garden, so that when there was an air raid there would be somewhere safe for us to go. Before that moment I had thought air raids would only happen in London or possibly some of the bigger cities, and it had never crossed my mind that a bomb could fall in Woking, let alone near our house. I suddenly felt really afraid.

  I asked my father what plans he had made if the house was bombed.

  ‘What if everybody is killed except me? Where will I go?’

  ‘I’ve discussed it with Aunt Edith and we have both agreed that if any of us adults are killed, then the others will look after the children. But don’t worry, Mary, it won’t happen to us.’ I wasn’t sure if I believed him but desperately wanted to. The idea that any of my family could be killed was unthinkable.

  My father told me that he had recently joined the newly formed Home Guard and that the few weapons they had were mostly relics taken as souvenirs from the First World War. As it would take time to turn the factories that usually made cars and tractors into armaments factories they had been told by the War Office that they would have to improvise so they were lashing carving knives onto broom handles to use as bayonets and they had asked the local man who used to sharpen knives in the street to sharpen all the axes, scythes and sickles they could muster. I hadn’t realised that my father might have to fight the Germans in hand-to-hand combat and the idea really scared me.

  I wished my brothers were at home for half term but my mother told me that Peter was too busy studying at Trinity College, Cambridge to have any time off and that William wouldn’t be home until the following week so I decided to see if any of the Derwent boys were at home. They weren’t but their cousin Andrew, who was in his mid twenties so a lot older than all of us, was there as he had taken a week’s leave and he, like me, was feeling a bit lonely because no one else was at home. He told me that he loved being in the RAF and was now training as a Pathfinder pilot. I was intrigued and asked him what that was. He explained that when bombers had a target to get to he would be the one that went on ahead of them to guide them there.

  ‘Gosh, that sounds dangerous!’ I said, ‘Aren’t you scared?’

  ‘Scared enough to wet my trousers if I get caught in search lights!’ he replied, ‘you see, Mary, when you’re caught in the searchlights, you’re completely blinded and can’t see a damn thing. Bombers can zigzag to get out of the way but a Pathfinder has to stick to its course come what may.’

  ‘Did they make you do it, or did you volunteer?’

  ‘Well, someone has to do it and I’m older than most of the others. I’ve been flying since I was seventeen, so I’m really one of the most experienced pilots they have. By the way, what are you doing this afternoon?’ he asked, changing the subject.

  ‘Nothing much, just resting my brains, I’ve been swotting for School Cert.’ I explained.

  ‘Would you like to come to the cinema with me? It’ll rest my brains as well! I’ve no idea what’s on but it’s a good way of forgetting about the war… at least for a couple of hours.’

  The film was a comedy and it made us both laugh. On the way home, Andrew asked me how school was going. I told him that although I was working very hard I didn’t expect to pass the maths exam.

  ‘I’m quite good at maths so I could pass on a few tips when I am here over the Christmas holidays,’ Andrew kindly offered.

  ‘Won’t you be going to your parents?’

  ‘Not this year, Mary, The war will prevent me going to Singapore to see them so I’ll probably stay with the Derwents.’

  ‘How’s Edward by the way?’ I asked.

  ‘Did you know he’s thinking of offering his services as an ambulance driver to avoid having to join the army?’ he said shaking his head, ‘I can tell you that Uncle Christopher was not at all pleased but when I told him that Edward could have just registered as a conscientious objector he quietened down a bit, but Edward knows that his father is ashamed of him and he’s very upset about it.’

  ‘It’s not fair, Edward isn’t a coward; he’s more the sort of person who should be a clergyman, if you know what I mean. He hates the idea of killing his fellow man.’

  ‘We haven’t any choice when it comes down to it,’ Andrew said bitterly ‘that’s what war is all about – it’s either him or me.’

  I thanked Andrew for taking me to the cinema and then ran back home thinking, ‘Take care, dear Andrew, please take extra care.’

  As I helped Agnes lay the table that evening, I asked her what she was doing for the war effort and she told me that she was now working some mornings and a few afternoons at the ‘Munitions’, meaning the ammunition factory.

  ‘But you’ll still live here with us won’t you Aggie?’ I asked anxiously.

  ‘I will Miss Mary,’ Agnes replied. ‘Your father very kindly told me that I must think of this as my home and asked me not to go back to Northern Ireland as I’m needed here. I did offer him my war-work wages to cover the extra expense of having me here,’ Agnes said lowering her voice, ‘but your father wouldn’t hear of it. He said ‘we all have to pull together to win the war’.’

  I watched Agnes as she polished the glasses and said, ‘I do admire you, Aggie, for the war work you’re doing. Once my wretched exams are over, I plan to do some sort of war work too.’

  ‘Good for you Miss Mary… meanwhile as your mother keeps saying ‘Carry on as usual’.’

  Before I knew it, I was back at school and ‘carried on’ studying as hard as I could until it was time to go home to my parents again for Christmas.

  I hadn’t seen my old governess, Kay, since the summer, so decided to go and see her on my first day back. When I got to her house and she opened the front door to greet me I was horrified to see that she had a very swollen tummy. Tears ran down my cheeks: ‘Oh Kay, your poor tummy; are you ill?’

  ‘Never better!’ she said happily. ‘Surely you’ve seen a woman carrying a baby in her tummy before?’

  ‘Never!’ I gasped, ‘Oh Kay, does Jack know?’

  ‘Of course he does, silly girl. It’s his fault I’m like this,’ she said laughing.

  ‘Oh? What do you mean it’s his fault?’ I asked, not understanding what she meant.

  ‘Well, when married couples share a bed… well sometimes babies just come – you know? They must have told you at school in biology lessons, all about the birds and bees… about pollination and fertilisation?’ Kay ventured.

  ‘Oh that! But that’s for trees and plants,’ I replied, ‘not for people… is it?’

  ‘Oh yes it is, it’s much the same. You’d better ask your mother to explain it a bit more,’ Kay said, smiling at my innocence.

  Later that evening at dinner as Agnes handed round the bread sauce, I announced to everyone, ‘Kay’s been pollinated!… or is it fertilised? – I forget which exactly – but she’s expecting a baby in the spring and she looks like a huge balloon and I told her that I hoped she wouldn’t burst!’

  My father put his napkin over his mouth but I could see he was laughing so hard he was almost crying, while my mother looked totally bemused, my brother Peter let out a loud snort and William stopped mid-way as he was about to put some bread sauce on his chicken. It was Agnes who spoke first: ‘I’m delighted to hear the news Miss Mary, I’ve always been very fond of Mrs Kay.’ Agnes was a staunch Catholic who always seemed to us to be very prim and proper but she didn’t seem in the least bit shocked with my talk of Kay being ‘pollinated’.

  ‘Yes that is wonderful news darling,’ my mother added, ‘Let’s buy some wool tomorrow and then you can knit a cardigan for the baby, and the next time you see Kay, please tell her that I would like to pay for the Moses basket.’

  ‘Why does Kay need a Moses basket?’ William asked with interest. ‘Is she planning to float her baby down
the river?’

  As my mother kissed me goodnight later that evening she said that perhaps it was about time she had another talk to me about ‘the birds and bees,’ but that first we’d better get Christmas over with.

  Surprisingly, Christmas didn’t feel very different from the previous year. There were blackout regulations of course, which meant people couldn’t put lights on their Christmas trees and we couldn’t see the decorative shop-displays, which I particularly liked, as all the windows were obscured by anti-blast tape but apart from that it was much the same as it always had been. Food hadn’t been rationed yet but Agnes told me that bacon and butter would start to be rationed from January.

  As Aunt Edith and her family, the Godburys, were staying with us for Christmas, as well as their refugee cook, every room would be taken. This meant that my cousin Jane would have to share my room, which I was looking forward to, as we were so close that we were almost like sisters.

  As usual when the Godburys were staying with us, all the children would put on a Nativity play for the adults. This gave Jane’s elder sister, Bridget, a chance to be the director, which was perfect for her as she loved bossing everyone about and Peter would get the opportunity to be a lighting engineer, which he loved doing. William would be in charge of making the programmes and doing the prompting and Jane and I would get to sing songs from the latest musical shows and dance. We all learned our parts as quickly as we could and by Boxing Day we were ready to put on a performance.

  The old billiard room had been turned into our theatre, as it had an enormous bay window, which made a perfect stage for our play. The audience included Jane’s and my parents, the Derwents and their houseguests, Andrew and Henry who were both on leave.

  I took my place on stage as the Virgin Mary with one of my dolls as Jesus and Jane stood near me as the Angel Gabriel, because she had long, straight fair hair and looked the part. William and Jane’s little brother, Tim, were the shepherds, while Bridget played Joseph. Meanwhile, Peter was balanced on a ladder behind a screen, as he was responsible for moving the star of Bethlehem on a long pole over our heads.