by Mary Arden
I stared at him and asked, ‘Why? Surely no one would steal my bicycle in wartime? I’ve never had to lock it up before.’
‘Argh-aye, you see, there’s no’ very much transport here about, and the young officers like to visit the public houses, so they are inclined to ‘borrow’ any bicycles left around to get to Arbroath,’ he explained. ‘Then they forget which pub they’ve left the bike at, so then get a wee taxi home to their beds,’ he chuckled. ‘So it’s best you make sure you lock it up, lassie, so they don’t pinch it.’
As I was leaving McDougal informed me that he just happened to have both a spare padlock and a chain that I could buy from him if I wanted to, rather than having to go to a shop. When McDougal handed me the padlock and chain, I could see straight away that they were second-hand, although he hadn’t mentioned this fact before taking my money. It was obvious they were not new because the key for the padlock still had a lucky charm attached to it, so must have belonged to someone else at some stage. Oh well, I thought, perhaps the charm will bring me luck.
McDougal said that he would make arrangements for my suitcase and my bicycle to be delivered to Letham Grange, as soon as possible, but when I returned to the manse that evening there was no sign of either. Then, I had a hunch, and went to look in the ‘oot hoose’, and sure enough there they were. McDougal was a wily old man, but at least he had been true to his word.
The next morning I decided to introduce myself to the doctors. Unfortunately Surgeon Commander Scott was away on leave but his next in command, Dr Marchant, was temporarily in charge while he was away, and the moment I introduced myself to him, a large grin appeared on his face.
‘Leading Wren Arden eh?’ the doctor said, laughing and then told me that ‘Red’ had been asking all week if anyone had seen me around, so he had promised to let him know when I arrived by hoisting a windsock on the Sick Bay roof, which Red would be able to see from anywhere on the airfield.’
I looked blankly, ‘‘Red’, who’s Red?’ I asked.
‘Red, you know, as in red hair? As in Lieutenant Ogilvie!’ he said, a little taken aback that I didn’t know Duncan’s nickname.
‘Oh,’ I exclaimed, feeling my face suddenly light up with joy. ‘You mean Duncan?’ I gasped, blushing profusely.
‘Maybe you should be the one called ‘Red’!’ Dr Marchant teased. ‘I’ll put the windsock up first thing in the morning, as it’s too dark now,’ the amused doctor assured me before saying goodbye and going back to his office.
I nearly drove Fiona mad the following morning: every time I left the room I would say, ‘Don’t let him go if he comes in, tell him I won’t be a minute.’
‘Gosh you’ve got it badly,’ Fiona said, laughing.
I hadn’t realised that I had, but it looked as if she was right, I admitted to myself, surprised at the intensity of my feelings.
By the time I got to the NAAFI, I was beginning to feel sick to the stomach. Duncan still hadn’t turned up and I was worried that I must have missed him. He obviously hadn’t seen the windsock, or so I thought, until I suddenly heard a voice call out, ‘Anyone called Mary Arden in here?’
Leaping to my feet I nearly tripped over my gasmask case, and yelled, ‘Yes, yes that’s me, who wants me?’
The girl who had called out my name then said, ‘There’s an Officer outside who asked me to find out whether you were inside.’
Clutching my gasmask case to my chest, I went outside and there standing right in front of me, with a huge grin on his face, was Duncan.
Without saying a word he saluted, so I saluted back, automatically, without even thinking, and then he took my hand in both of his and put them to his lips and whispered, ‘Meet me outside the main gate at seven-thirty. We’re going out to dinner!’ He then saluted again and disappeared.
It took me a few moments to snap out of the shock of seeing Duncan again, and then I suddenly realised that I couldn’t possibly have dinner with him tonight, at least not in a public place because we were both in uniform, so what on earth could I do? I could feel my eyes start to well up.
When I went back into the NAAFI, I noticed a red jacket hanging up behind the counter on a hook. Thinking that it might belong to the lady who was on duty, I decided to ask her if she would lend it to me for the evening, but had to wait for her to finish serving before explaining my predicament. I told her that if I didn’t go out with Duncan that evening, I might not get another chance to see him for months. Fortunately, she took pity on me, and looking at my uniform suggested that if I take off my jacket and tie, it would look like I just had a normal white shirt on under her red jacket.
‘Just be sure you smile at everyone brightly, so that they don’t notice that you’re still in uniform below the waist. Here, try it on,’ she said kindly, handing me the jacket.
It was at least one size too big for me, but that was a good thing, as it hung well below my hips. She then suggested that if I turned it inside out, only the lining would show, when I carried it past the guardhouse. I could then change into it on my way to the restaurant.
The lady asked me to wait for a moment and disappeared into the kitchen. When she appeared again she was carrying a navy blue and white silk scarf.
‘This belongs to a friend of mine who’s helping out with the washing-up tonight, and she says you can borrow it and that if you tie it in a pretty bow, your white shirt will hardly show at all.’
‘Thank you so much!’ I said, ‘I promise to bring everything back tomorrow.’
‘You do that and then you can tell us all about your date!’ she said laughing.
That evening I showed my pass to the Guard and when I was in the road I saw Duncan waiting by a taxi. He beckoned me to him.
Once I was in the taxi, I relaxed at last and told Duncan about how I had just borrowed a jacket and scarf to disguise my uniform. ‘Don’t worry about your uniform’ he grinned, ‘I’ve borrowed this white pullover and rather gaudy tie so, hopefully, from the waist up I won’t be mistaken for an officer… or a gentleman!’
By pure coincidence, we were both wearing red, white and blue clothes.
‘We couldn’t be more patriotic if we had tried!’ I said, and we both laughed. Duncan then put an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close and whispered into my ear how much he had longed to see me again.
When I asked him what he was doing in Arbroath, he explained that his squadron had been sent to HMS Condor between ‘ops’ and they had been given some leave, so he had gone home to see his parents, who had given him my letter telling him that I had been posted to HMS Condor.
‘You didn’t give me any specific date in your letter, so I had no idea when you would be arriving here,’ Duncan said, ‘but I thought you most probably wouldn’t get here until my leave was over. I nearly went mad looking out for you and in the end Johnny Marchant offered to fly a windsock on the roof as soon as you reported for duty. But when I eventually saw it, I was too busy to get away, so I just prayed that I would catch you tonight before you left, and God was listening!’
When we arrived at the restaurant. Duncan said quietly, ‘See you at the bar,’ and then pointed to the ladies’ room. Once I was inside, I removed my tie and stiff collar and replaced them with the blue and white scarf, which I tied in a fancy knot. I then draped the red jacket over my shoulders, and taking a deep breath, I joined Duncan at the bar.
‘How do you do Miss Arden,’ he said, doing a little bow, as if we’d only just met. ‘What a lovely surprise that you were able to join me here this evening, I thought you were still in Somerset.’
‘And I thought you were still in… ’ I hesitated, as I had absolutely no idea where Duncan’s squadron had just been on operations, but then noticed that he looked a lot more suntanned compared to the last time I had seen him. ‘Actually where have you been? Sunbathing in the Med perhaps?’
He leaned over and whispered in my ear, ‘Yes, but it was no picnic and there was certainly no time for any sunbathing.’
&
nbsp; ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I asked.
‘I’d rather not, it was very frightening, and I am doing my best not to relive it all,’ Duncan said quietly. ‘But I will tell you that I am very proud of my squadron. The boys were all very brave.’
As we sat down to eat our meal and continued chatting, I couldn’t help noticing Duncan’s deep-blue eyes, and could now see why Kitty and the other girls had given him ‘heartthrob’ status. The thought must have made me smile, as now Duncan was smiling back at me, with ‘that’ smile and I suddenly felt my heart beat a little faster than usual.
It was well past nine, when I suddenly remembered that I hadn’t had a chance to ask for a late pass, so I told Duncan that we’d have to leave soon so that I would be back at the manse before ten.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I ordered a taxi for 9.30, so there’s plenty of time and you won’t be late.’
‘Thank goodness!’ I sighed.
‘But make sure you get a late pass for tomorrow night,’ Duncan said grinning, ‘as I have booked us in for the local hotel’s Saturday dinner dance. That is, if you feel like going, of course?’
‘Yes, I’d love to,’ I replied but then realised that I had nothing suitable to wear for a dinner dance, so would have to go into Arbroath the next day to do some shopping.
As we saw the taxi draw up outside the restaurant, Duncan asked me to meet him outside the Entertainment’s hut the next day at two-thirty to confirm that there was no change of plan, just in case his squadron had to fly off sooner than expected. He held my hand all the way back to my billet, and when we got there he asked the driver to wait while he escorted me to the back door. Before I went inside, Duncan gently kissed me on the lips and whispered, ‘I love you.’
It wasn’t until I had got to the top of the stairs that I thought to myself, ‘and I love you too Duncan Ogilvie!’ I then caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and saw that I was smiling from ear to ear.
The following morning, I made sure that I signed the book for a late pass and collected a key from Mrs Anderson.
As I unlocked my bicycle and set off down the road towards Arbroath, the wind howled around my legs, and I wished I had worn a warm pair of slacks instead of my skirt, as it was bitterly cold.
When I arrived in Arbroath, I saw a poster pinned to a telegraph pole, advertising a Charity Bazaar, which was being held that morning in the Old School Hall.
In small letters at the bottom of the poster I read, ‘Books, bric-a-brac, homemade cakes, sweets, second-hand clothes and gifts suitable as Christmas presents on sale.’ The mention of second-hand clothes caught my eye immediately. It was just possible that something might be suitable for me to wear that evening.
I propped my bicycle up outside the Old School and went inside. I was thankful to find that it was lovely and warm and soon started to thaw out. As I looked around the hall, I saw a table covered with homemade pincushions, needle-cases, ribbons, knickers-elastic, buttons, and little straw string bags, which I knew Aunt Beth, would simply love.
I asked the stallholder if I was allowed to buy more than one thing, and she replied that I was welcome to buy the lot if I wanted, as the main objective was to make enough money to pay for the special oiled wool they needed to knit comforts for the Merchant Seamen, who had been so brave.
I bought as many items as possible and then asked the woman whether she’d be kind enough to put the things into a bag, while I looked around the other tables.
‘It’s very kind of you to buy things, dear,’ she said, ‘we don’t get many Wrens coming here.’
‘You should put a notice up in our NAAFI,’ I suggested. ‘I only saw the poster on a lamp post by sheer luck.’
At the next stall, I saw some little felt needle-cases made to look like Father Christmas and reindeers, and also a couple of rag dolls. Although there were still a couple of months to go until Christmas, I decided to buy one of the dolls for my goddaughter, and a couple of felt Father Christmas needle-cases to give to my roommates, just in case I didn’t have the opportunity to get anything else before Christmas.
I then looked around for the second-hand clothing stall and when I spotted a clothing rack at the back of the hall, I hurried towards it. A heavily pregnant woman, with a very upper-class English accent, was trying to sell a blouse that looked like a size 34 to a woman who looked much more like a size 40. The pregnant woman winked at me, and I giggled. Then, fortunately, the fat woman finally admitted defeat and realising that the blouse would never fit her, moved on to the next stall.
‘Were you looking for something in particular?’ the pregnant woman asked, so I explained how I’d been invited to a dinner dance at the Arbroath hotel that evening and that I had nothing suitable to wear.
‘I see that you are a Wren, have you been here long?’ the woman asked.
‘Not even a week.’
‘Ah, that explains it then.’
‘Explains what?’ I asked intrigued.
‘Why my husband hasn’t mentioned you to me. He’s usually the first to spot any new pretty faces that come to the base,’ she laughed, and then added with a grin, ‘it looks like someone has beaten him to it, anyway, if you have been invited to a dance already!’
‘Well actually, I have been invited by a rather lovely Naval Officer that I met when I was stationed in Somerset,’ I explained, ‘and that’s why I am looking for something pretty to wear tonight.’
‘Have a look though the rack and see if anything catches your eye,’ she offered; ‘several of my own frocks are for sale, as I’ll never get into them again. This is my fourth baby, and an unintentional one at that,’ she sighed.
‘Oh!’ I said, not knowing quite what to say, as I didn’t really understand what she had meant by unintentional.
‘You won’t believe it, but I was once the same size as you,’ she continued, ‘and although I am a bit taller than you, I think that one of my dresses might fit you perfectly.’
I watched as she waddled over to serve another customer, and wondered when her baby was due, so when she came back, I asked her.
‘Oh, it’s not due for weeks yet,’ she replied, ‘but I seem to be getting tired earlier on in this pregnancy for some reason.’
As I looked through the rack of dresses and skirts, I spotted a turquoise and coffee coloured chiffon dress, which I thought would be perfect.
‘Why don’t you take yourself to the lav’ and try it on?’ she suggested. ‘By the way, my name is Barbara, what’s yours?’
I hastily introduced myself and then asked her if she knew of any shoe shops nearby.
‘Yes, there is one, but you’ll find a hideous pair of gold shoes at that stall over there. They are dreadfully common, I know, but they were blissfully comfortable when I wore them before my feet began to swell!’
Barbara called over to the lady at the shoe stall, ‘Hey, Maggie, will you show this young Wren my Buckingham Palace gold shoes?’
I liked Barbara immediately; she had a good sense of humour and didn’t seem to mind a damn what she said.
I collected the gold shoes and took myself to the lavatory to try on my new outfit. As I stripped down to my underwear, I suddenly got the giggles. Here I was half-naked, shivering in a freezing cold church lavatory, trying on someone else’s clothes. My mother would have had a fit, but Aunt Beth would have thought it hilarious.
The dress was well below my knees, but as it was an evening ‘do’, it wouldn’t matter. I then tried on the gold shoes, which would fit perfectly if I could find someone to punch another hole in the strap.
When I returned to Barbara’s stall to pay for the items, she asked me how they were, ‘Lovely,’ I told her, ‘but the dress is a bit too long.’ She suggested that I bought some ribbon to tie around my waist to shorten it a bit, so I went over to the handicrafts stall and found a length of cream velvet ribbon, which was still on its cardboard holder. The stallholder measured my waist and told me that there should be enough ribbon to go aro
und it twice and then showed me how to tie the bow, so that I wouldn’t spoil the velvet. I was over the moon with my beautiful ‘old-new’ dress and gold, ‘Buckingham Palace’ shoes, and now I had a lovely velvet sash too, all for two pounds and ten shillings!
As I left I said to Barbara, ‘If you’re ever in need of a babysitter, I’d be more than willing to sit for you.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Barbara replied. ‘I doubt we will go out much until after this baby is born, but after that I would love to take you up on your offer.’
We said goodbye, and then when I was half-way back to the airfield I realised that I hadn’t told Barbara my surname and that I didn’t know hers either.
I got to the Entertainments hut at two thirty five and Duncan was already there, waiting.
‘Guess what?’ I asked, as I came to a halt, before suddenly remembering that I was supposed to salute him. However, saluting with one hand, steadying the bicycle with the other, while also attempting to dismount, was obviously not a very good idea, and as my bike tipped over, all the parcels fell out of the basket.
The absurdity of it all made me laugh. ‘I’ll end up in the guard house with this unruly behaviour, and then I won’t be allowed to go to the dance with you this evening.’
‘If you get locked up I will come and kiss you through the bars, and then they will have to put me in the guard house with you, so we can still be together all night!’ I noticed that he had a decidedly wicked glint in his eye now.
‘Don’t be so naughty, Duncan,’ I scolded, despite the fact that I rather liked the idea of him kissing me through prison bars. Duncan confirmed that he would pick me up in a taxi that evening from my billet and then we went our own ways.
Once I was back at The Grange, I washed my hair and got ready for the dance and when I was ready, I knocked on the kitchen door to ask Mrs Anderson if I could wait with her in the warmth of her sitting room so that I could hear the front door bell ring. She was happy for me to do so and commented on how pretty I looked.
‘Thank you, Mrs Anderson, I do hope my escort thinks so too.’