by Mary Arden
‘He’ll be blind if he doesn’t,’ she said, gesturing for to me to sit down. When I told her how much I had paid for my dress, sash and shoes at the bazaar, she said I was pulling her leg.
Less than an hour later, Duncan and I were on the dance floor doing a Scottish reel.
‘Not bad for an English lass!’ he teased.
‘I learnt Scottish dancing at Finishing School, so that we wouldn’t disgrace ourselves at all the various balls we had to attend,’ I replied indignantly.
‘Oh, did you now, Lady Mary?’ he chuckled.
Thankfully the dinner was served early, as I was very hungry. Duncan beckoned to a waitress and asked her to bring us a bottle of wine. ‘As I won’t be around for Christmas or New Year, let’s share a bottle of wine together now and celebrate.’
‘That would be lovely, especially as we don’t know when we will get the chance to see each other again,’ I replied.
After dinner, we started dancing again and Duncan held me close to him.
‘I don’t know how long I will be away this time, Mary,’ Duncan told me, ‘but I want you to know that you are very dear to me and that there will never be anyone else.’
As he looked into my eyes, I saw such a genuine look of love that I immediately put my previous fear, of caring for anyone I got close to, to one side and held him as close as I could.
When the dance was over, we took a taxi back to my billet, and as Duncan escorted me to the back door I said, ‘Take care, Duncan, I am going to miss you terribly.’ He put his arms around me and we kissed each other gently on the lips.
‘I love you, Mary, don’t ever forget that,’ he whispered.
And then he was gone.
CHAPTER 11
1943-44
I didn’t know where Duncan’s squadron had been sent, although I suspected that it was probably somewhere in the Mediterranean, but I did know that wherever he was he would be in constant danger, so I decided to ride my bicycle to the church in Arbroath to pray for his safety.
I checked with Fiona that we had no re-tests that morning, and then went to collect my bike. To my dismay, I discovered that my front tyre was completely flat so I wheeled it round to the transport sheds to ask one of the mechanics if he’d mend it for me.
‘It’s a damn nuisance,’ I complained, ‘as I really want to go to Arbroath this morning.’
The mechanic looked at his watch and told me sympathetically that I’d just missed the bus, but suggested that I could walk there and get the bus back, assuring me that he’d have my tyre mended by the time I returned. That seemed like a good idea, so I set off at a brisk pace.
I had only been walking for about ten minutes or so, when I heard a car horn honking behind me. Thinking that it was probably just one of the junior officers trying to get my attention, I ignored it, but the honking continued. My curiosity eventually got the better of me and when I turned around, I saw a large family car driving slowly towards me. I couldn’t see who was inside the car, but as I didn’t want to acknowledge the vulgar man who had been honking at me, I tossed my head indignantly and looked the other way.
As the car drove past me the driver honked again, letting out a ‘dot-dot-dash’ on his horn as loudly as he could, which made me jump sky-high. The car then suddenly stopped and the driver got out. I could see that he was roaring with laughter, so I gave him a filthy look. I was just about to shake my fist at him, when I noticed that he had a thick band of gold braid on his sleeve. Hells bells, I thought, now I’m in for it.
As he came towards me I realised that it was the Commander Flying from HMS Condor.
‘I suppose your mother told you not to accept lifts from strangers?’ he said smiling.
‘Exactly, Sir,’ I replied.
‘I am sorry if I made you jump, but the thing is that I was trying to attract your attention to see if you would like a lift into Arbroath. It is quite a long walk, you know. I’m not trying to pick you up, young lady, not in that sense I mean. I’m sorry, I should explain myself: I believe you know my wife, Barbara, she sold you a dress at the bazaar about a week ago.’
‘Oh, yes,’ I said, as the penny finally dropped. I was no longer cross now, and felt a bit of a fool that I had thought he was trying to pick me up. ‘I’m terribly sorry, Sir, but I misunderstood and thought you were a junior officer trying to make a pass at me. Now I know who you are, Sir, I’m so glad that you stopped, as I forgot to swap surnames and addresses with your wife, and I’d love to see her again, as we got on so well.’
‘Hop in then,’ he said, ‘and I’ll take you home with me now if you have time, as I know my wife would love to see you again too.’
As I got into the passenger seat beside him, he told me his name was Tim Horsfell, and that he had recognised me from his wife’s description, so when he spotted me, he had honked his horn purely to get my attention.
As we drove towards Arbroath, he asked me what I did in the Wrens. When I told him that I was a Night Vision Tester, he said, ‘In that case you and I must have spoken on the telephone recently; I have to say that those damn tests do disrupt our flying time terribly.’
‘Maybe they do Sir, but they are very necessary.’
‘So some say,’ he said taking his eye off the road for a moment and looking at me, ‘though why the hell my pilots do what a pint-sized girl like you tells them to do without question I can’t imagine!’
‘Because, I tell them that what they learn during the test will save their lives, Sir.’
When we entered his house he took me straight into the kitchen where Barbara was preparing lunch. She let out a squeal of delight when she saw me, ‘You have found her at last!’
‘Yes,’ Tim said, giving me a wink, ‘we met on the road, didn’t we Mary?’ He then gave me such a naughty smile that I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.
Barbara invited me to stay for lunch, and when I met their children I thought they were delightful so offered to babysit for them anytime they needed me. Tim then said that he had to do some food shopping in Arbroath, so he could drop me off at the church and then pick me up again when he was finished and take me back to the base, so that’s exactly what I did. We arrived back at Condor just in time to collect my bicycle before the workshop closed.
When Fiona finally went on leave, I got so busy doing her tests, as well as mine, that I didn’t have much time to worry about Duncan. And as Christmas was now only a month away, there were also plenty of distractions to keep my over-active mind occupied.
The next time I went to Arbroath I did some Christmas shopping and bought my family a few gifts that were ‘Made in Scotland’, and while I was there I saw a poster that encouraged us to ‘Make Do and Mend’ this year, so I decided that all my Christmas cards would be homemade. I then met Barbara at a cafe for a cup of tea and she told me that she would make some shortbread for me to send home to my parents, which I knew my father would love, as he had a very sweet tooth.
To help Barbara with her rations, I begged everybody in the Wrens’ mess and the NAAFI to give me any spare sugar they didn’t want, and as many of the Wrens had decided to go on a diet before Christmas, I ended up with more than was needed.
‘Well, that has solved the problem of what to give all my relations for Christmas for the next two years!’ she said when I handed over all the donated sugar.
Christmas Day 1943 was very similar to the previous year, except that there wasn’t any turkey or chicken for lunch, as shortages were at their height, but some enterprising soul at the base had come up with ‘mock turkeys’, which were really lamb and as usual the Officers served meals to Other Ranks before having their own lunch. I wished that Duncan had been there, as it would have been such fun to watch him waiting on all my friends.
I wondered where he was and whether he was having a Christmas lunch too, or whether he was involved in a dogfight at that very moment. The thought made me feel sick, but I was determined not to spoil the day for the others, so pulled myself together a
nd joined in the fun.
Over Christmas and Boxing Day two films were shown, there was also a dance, but no concert. I learned how to dance the ‘Dashing White Sergeant’, and improved my Scottish dancing skills by dancing countless reels.
Barbara asked me if I would babysit for them on New Year’s Eve, as they had been invited to see the New Year in with friends, so I asked for a twenty-four hour pass, which would allow me to spend the night at their house.
On New Year’s Eve, I put Carol to bed at around seven o’clock and then gave the older children their supper before playing endless card games with them. By nine o’clock, I was exhausted, and asked the children to get ready for bed, telling them that I would come up and read them a story but they told me, in no uncertain terms, that they were far too old to be read to now, and could read for themselves, which I was thankful for, as I was ready for bed, and the moment my head hit the pillow, I fell asleep.
The next day was 1st January 1944. Over a late breakfast, Tim told me that he thought this would be a better year and that the war might be over by the end of it, but there was no guarantee of course.
That night back at The Grange, I didn’t get much sleep at all, as at about one o’clock I was woken up by a scurrying noise, so I switched on my torch and then let out a scream: mice were scampering all over the floor of our bedroom.
‘Put on the lights, quickly!’ I called out, standing up on my bed and jumping up and down. Grumbling and still half-asleep, my roommates switched on their bedside lights and looked at where I was now pointing.
‘Those are my biscuits, you little rascals!’ Gloria yelled, as the mice disappeared through a tiny hole in the skirting board.
‘Were your biscuits, you mean,’ I joked.
Not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house, we got our clothes brushes and tried to sweep up as many of the crumbs as we could and then put the crumbs in the wastepaper basket, which we then left outside our bedroom door, and then filled the hole the mice had made with some newspaper, before going back to bed.
Before heading to work, I asked Mrs Anderson if she could lend us some mousetraps, which we then set up before going to bed with little pieces of cheese that we had saved from lunch. The first trap went off almost before our lights were out, but as none of us knew what to do with the dead mouse or were brave enough to take the victim out of the trap, we decided to throw both mouse and trap out of the window into the garden.
By the morning, all four traps had successfully trapped mice, which had then been duly despatched into the night via the window. Before leaving for work that day, I asked Mrs Anderson if the gardener-handyman, Mr Campbell, would mind emptying the traps and re-setting them for us.
‘Mr Campbell is away for the moment,’ Mrs Anderson replied. ‘He has a cold, so you’ll have to set them yourselves.’
None of us wanted to remove the dead mice, so we agreed to pool our resources and buy some new traps, but when they were full too, none of us wanted to empty them either, so by the end of the week there was a disgusting pile of dead mice, still in their traps, outside our bedroom window.
As I left for the airbase one morning, I noticed with relief that Mr Campbell was back. He spotted me immediately and walked towards me wagging his finger and looking very cross, ‘I have been sweeping the paths all aroond the hoose,’ he said, ‘and when I swept under yon window I found some wee dead creatures. Do you know anything about them?’
As ‘yon window’ happened to be our window, I just hung my head in shame and apologised, explaining that we all had been too cowardly to remove the mice from the traps. I then asked him if he would be willing to dispose of the dead bodies and let us have the empty traps back.
‘Aye, but don’t do that again, as it’s a waste of good wood,’ he remonstrated. I stood where I was for a moment and watched as Mr Campbell walked over to a freshly lit bonfire to add some leaves to it from his barrow. I suddenly had visions of the poor wee mice being flung on top of the fire. ‘Oh, Mr Campbell,’ I called out, ‘if it’s not too much trouble, could you dig a hole and give the mice a decent burial instead of putting them on the bonfire?’
He shook his head in disbelief. ‘I dinna have time for a mice funeral,’ he said firmly, and shooed me away. However, the very next morning on my way to collect my bicycle, I noticed a small cross sticking out of the ground near the shed. It was made of kindling wood with ‘R.I.P’ painted on it!
Tim and Barbara’s baby decided to enter the world without any warning whatsoever. One minute Barbara was making the beds, and the next, she was ringing up her husband at the airbase to ask him to come home immediately to take her to the maternity hospital. I had just finished a Night Vision Test when Tim charged into the Sick Bay yelling for me.
‘Can you drop everything and come with me? I need someone to stay in the house to look after the children. The baby is on its way!’ Tim half asked and half demanded frantically.
Before leaving, I ran to the office and had a quick word with Fiona. She told me to leave straight away and that she would inform the Duty Officer that I had gone on special ‘ops’ with Commander Flying Horsfell, and needed to take a few days leave.
That night Barbara gave birth to a baby boy, and she stayed in hospital for the next five days. Tim arranged to sleep at the airbase in the Officers’ quarters while his wife was in the maternity home, as he thought it was unsuitable for a married man to be alone with a young girl in his house, but he assured me that he would return home first thing every morning to get the children’s breakfast and get them off to school, and that he would eat with the children each evening.
When Barbara came home, she proudly showed me their new baby, which was currently called the ‘Sprog’ because they still hadn’t agreed on a name for him. When she noticed how clean the house was, she thanked me for looking after it and the children while she had been away.
‘I will never forget this, Mary,’ she said gratefully, ‘I don’t know how we will ever be able to thank you enough.’
Tim must have overheard his wife’s comment because later that evening he said, ‘How would you like to fly an aeroplane? It would be my way of saying thank you for everything you have done for us.’
‘Oh, Tim, I can’t imagine anything more wonderful,’ I said excitedly.
‘If I teach you how to fly you could deliver planes all over the country, which would mean gaining a Commission, without having to wait until you are twenty-one.’
‘I am not worried about a Commission, Tim,’ I said, ‘but I’d simply love to learn to fly.’
‘I’ve been thinking about how we could do it, Mary,’ Tim continued, ‘Wrens don’t fly on naval air stations, but I think that if I dressed you up as one of my ATC cadets no one would ever notice one extra boy. You’ll have to cut your hair short,’ he said and then looking at my chest added, ‘and flatten ‘those’ somehow, so what do you think about that?’
‘I can’t wait,’ I told him.
‘Well, you’ll have to, I’m afraid, as the cadets won’t be arriving for another month,’ Tim said, as he left the room to go and have another look at his new son.
That night I dreamed that I was flying over the manse and waving to all of my friends. Of course, I wouldn’t be able to do that at all, because, in reality, my flying lessons would have to remain a secret.
Two days later I was upstairs helping Barbara with the Sprog when I heard Tim call up the stairs, ‘There is a Naval Lieutenant here called Ogilvie, he wants to see someone called Mary; do we have a Mary in the house?’
‘I will be down in a minute,’ I yelled, ‘I am changing the Sprog’s smelly nappy!’
After handing the baby back to Barbara, I quickly washed my hands and started to go downstairs. When I was about halfway down, I overheard Judy, the Horsfells’ oldest daughter, talking to someone in the drawing room.
‘Are you one of my Daddy’s friends?’ she asked. ‘Mummy has just come home with our new baby brother whose name is the Sprog.’
‘The Sprog?’ Duncan’s amused voice replied.
‘Well, you see,’ the little girl tried to explain, ‘we were expecting a girl and were going to call her Mary, but it was a boy, and we hadn’t thought of a boy’s name, so he’s called the Sprog.’
I then heard Anthony, the Horsfell’s’ son, ask in a worried tone, ‘Excuse me, Sir. Are you all right? Would you care to sit down?’
As I continued down the stairs into the hallway, I heard Tim call out, ‘Mary! Hurry, I think your young chap is about to pass out.’
I rushed into the drawing room and saw Tim helping Duncan to sit down on the sofa and then push his head between his knees. When Duncan looked up again I saw with horror that he was as white as a sheet and his face was drawn and haggard.
Tim whispered to me, ‘Don’t worry Mary, he’ll be right as rain in a minute or two, I have seen this before; it’s what we call battle fatigue. I’ll get him a drink and that should sort him out soon enough.’
After sipping a large glass of whisky, Duncan apologised to Tim. ‘I am sorry for turning up uninvited, Sir, but I was worried about Mary. When I heard she was staying here with you alone in this house, I didn’t understand why, so I’m afraid that I got the wrong end of the stick.’
Tim roared with laughter, ‘You flatter me young man!’ he said. ‘But with a wife and four children I haven’t the strength to take on someone like Mary too!’
Duncan looked relieved and then he turned to me and said, ‘Sorry, Mary, I haven’t been thinking straight lately.’
Tim now asked the children to go with him to the kitchen and left us alone.
‘What was all that about Duncan?’ I asked, feeling a bit upset. ‘Did you think that I was behaving badly with a married man? Surely you know I am not that sort of a girl?’ I was close to tears now, and when Duncan attempted to put his arm around me, I shrugged him off.
‘I am really sorry, Mary, I know you wouldn’t do anything like that, but when I was told that you were now living with Commander Flying, I jumped to the wrong conclusion and acted without thinking. Can I tell you the whole story and then you might understand my reaction?’