Henrietta bent to her task, but everyone noticed that her hand was shaking. For Milly to come all this way, unannounced, something must be terribly wrong.
Milly pulled off her gloves. ‘Last night, there was a dreadful raid and – and the apartment block where Pips and George live’ – she swallowed painfully – ‘took a direct hit.’
They all stared at her. Robert sank back down into his chair. ‘Were they definitely there? I mean, George often works late and Pips – well – Pips might not even have been in London.’
‘Wouldn’t they have gone to a shelter?’ Alice asked.
‘Not that we can find out.’
Robert looked towards his father. ‘Have we a number to telephone Pips?’
Edwin shook his head. ‘No, she always telephones us. George is our link, if we want a message passed to her.’
Henrietta had sat down again. ‘So, no one knows where either Philippa or George were last night?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So, they could have been anywhere. Away from London. Out somewhere in the city, perhaps, and taken shelter.’ Henrietta was clutching at straws. She knew it, they all knew it, but could fully understand why. And she had a point. No one knew for sure yet whether they had been in the building at all.
‘Is Paul there? At – at the site?’
‘No, but there is someone we know there helping in the search.’
‘Who?’
‘Mitch Hammond.’
The telephone shrilled as they were about to sit down for dinner, even though no one felt like eating now.
‘I’ll go,’ Robert said, starting to rise, but Milly forestalled him.
‘No, please let me answer it. Paul promised to telephone so that I could – could relay any messages.’
Robert struggled for a moment and then realized that this was exactly why the kind-hearted young woman had travelled all this way. She hadn’t wanted the family to receive bad news in an impersonal telephone call. He forced a smile and nodded.
Milly rushed to the telephone. She returned a few moments later – moments that seemed like hours to the anxious family.
‘That was Paul. He’s in touch with the site. They brought out two bodies earlier. A man and a woman, but they’ve not been identified yet.’ She rushed on, ‘But Paul says it can’t be George or Pips because Mitch is there and he’d know.’
They tried to eat, they tried to make conversation, but both were impossible. They were all listening for the telephone to ring again.
Thirty-Seven
The telephone at the hall rang again a little before midnight just as the family were discussing whether or not they ought to go to bed.
‘I’ll stay up,’ Milly had offered. ‘I know Paul will ring as soon as he knows anything definite, whatever time it is. I can always wake you.’
‘My dear girl, that is thoughtful of you,’ Edwin said, ‘but I doubt any of us will sleep anyway. Why don’t we all have something to drink and perhaps a sandwich so we can let the staff go to bed. I know Wainwright is still hovering in the hall.’
‘Yes, let’s do that,’ Henrietta began, but at that moment the telephone trilled again. Milly leapt up and hurried to it.
Eventually, after what once more seemed an age, she came back into the parlour. This time there were tears in her eyes, but she said swiftly, ‘They’ve brought out two more – a man and a woman – and Mitch was able to identify them. One is George and the other is George’s daughter, Rebecca. There’s no sign of Pips, but they’re still searching.’
‘So, they still don’t know that she’s not there, do they?’ Henrietta said.
‘I’m sorry, they can’t say for sure. Not yet. Paul now thinks she might be at – her place of work. He’s been trying to get in touch all afternoon and evening, but a lot of the telephone wires are down – as you might expect. We’re lucky he’s been able to get through here.’
‘Of course, I hadn’t thought of that,’ Henrietta murmured, her face bleak with sadness. ‘Poor George – and Rebecca.’
But their minds – quite naturally – were still filled with thoughts of their beloved Pips.
Alice rose. ‘I’ll go and get those drinks and sandwiches now and tell the staff to go to bed. What d’you want me to tell them about . . .?’ She waved her hand helplessly.
‘All that we know, Alice dear. They have a right to know.’
She paused at the door. ‘And what about Daisy? How are we going to get word to her?’
‘I’d leave telling Daisy for the moment,’ Robert said, ‘until we have some definite news about Pips.’
Despite her face being numb with cold most of the time, Daisy had quite enjoyed the long trip north, stopping every so often to refuel and for the night at the nearest airfield when it grew dark. The evening spent in the company of lively RAF boys was filled with music and laughter.
‘Now when, lovely lady, are you going to bring us Spitfires?’ one of them asked her.
She grimaced. ‘I only wish I knew.’
‘They can’t keep you away from them for ever. We need the Spits up here as badly as anywhere else. Just get on to your boss, will you?’
‘Believe me,’ Daisy said, ‘it’s not for the lack of trying.’
When he left work just after midnight, Paul went to the bombed street in Clapham where George and Pips had lived. It was a foggy night and, thankfully, the bombers had not come again. As he neared the site, he heard a scrabbling sound. Slits of lights, like those used on cars in the blackout, illuminated a small patch where a man was still carefully sifting through the rubble.
‘Mitch! Oh mate, are you still here?’
‘I can’t leave, Paul, till I know one way or the other.’
‘You should get some rest and come back in the morning. You can’t do much more tonight and there’ll be more willing hands tomorrow – well, today now.’
‘But what if she’s still alive under there,’ he said brokenly, ‘and I leave her . . .’
Paul put his arm around Mitch’s shoulders. ‘If she’s in there, Mitch, she won’t be alive. She can’t be.’
Gently, he led Mitch, now unresisting, away. He slumped against Paul who half led, half carried him towards his car. ‘Come home with me and I’ll bring you back first thing in the morning.’
As Paul opened the door and led the way into their darkened flat, Mitch said, ‘Is Milly in bed? Does she know?’
‘Milly’s not here. She was in the country at her parents’ place, but she’s gone up to Lincolnshire to be with Pips’s family. I telephone her if there’s any news and she relays it to the family. It was her idea to go. She didn’t want them to hear via an impersonal telephone call.’
Mitch tried to smile as he thought about Milly. ‘She’s a sweetheart,’ he murmured. Gently, like a nurse, Paul helped Mitch out of his dirty clothes and into a hot bath. Then he made him sit at the kitchen table to eat a sandwich and drink some tea, before taking him to one of the spare bedrooms and tucking him into bed. The exhausted man was asleep almost immediately. Whilst he slept, Paul bathed and dressed his damaged hands. When he had finished, he stood looking down at him. ‘My God, Mitch Hammond,’ he murmured. ‘How you do love that woman.’
Unable to sleep, the Maitland family all rose early and were still at the breakfast table when Milly answered the telephone. Coming back into the Great Hall, she shook her head. ‘No more news, I’m afraid. Paul went there last night – to the site – and found Mitch still digging on his own in the dark. He took him back to our flat, but Mitch insisted on being taken back to the site this morning. Paul still can’t get through to – um – where Pips works, so he’s taking the day off and going to travel there himself. He’ll let me know.’
In the village, folk were up early at the start of what they thought would be a normal day.
‘Norah. Norah! You here?’
‘I’m upstairs making the bed, Bess. What is it?’
‘Bad news, duck. You’d better come down.’
Bess moved about Norah’s kitchen, setting the kettle on the hob and placing cups and saucers on the table.
Norah opened the door leading from the stairs into the kitchen, her eyes fearful. ‘What is it?’ she asked again.
‘The bombing in London on Sunday night was the worst they’ve known – and that’s sayin’ summat – and the flat where Miss Pips and her husband live took a direct hit. Our Betty came to tell us.’
Norah gasped, her eyes widening. ‘Is she – are they . . .?’
‘Him and his daughter – they’re dead – but they haven’t found Miss Pips yet. If she was there . . .’ She left the words hanging between them, but her meaning was clear.
Bletchley Park wasn’t far from London. On arrival, Paul’s War Office credentials were examined and he was taken to the main house and shown into a small room on the left-hand side of the main entrance.
‘Someone will come to see you, sir. If you’d like to sit down.’
But he didn’t sit down; he paced the floor restlessly. After what seemed an interminable wait, a woman appeared. ‘I understand you are asking to see Mrs Allender?’
‘Is she here?’
‘What is it about?’
Paul held his frustration in check – but only just. ‘I have some very bad news for her. Her husband was killed in an air raid the night before last and right at this moment I don’t know if she was with him and hasn’t been found yet. So, please, just tell me – is she here?’
The woman’s face softened and at once she said, ‘Yes, she is. She’s been on a watch of nights, so she’ll be in bed at this moment. Do you want me to tell her?’
‘No,’ Paul snapped, a little more sharply than he’d intended. At once, he said, ‘I’m sorry, but I’d like to tell her myself. If you could organize that, I’d be very grateful.’
‘Please wait here. I’ll fetch her myself, but I’ll have to go to her digs. They’re not far away, but it may take a few minutes, if she is asleep.’
‘I hate to wake her,’ Paul murmured. ‘But I think we should.’
‘Of course.’
Again, he paced the room, looking first out of the front windows and then turning back to the fireplace. He couldn’t settle; he hardly took in his surroundings. Twenty minutes later – the longest twenty minutes Paul could remember – the door opened and the woman came into the room, ushering Pips in.
‘I’ll just be outside,’ she murmured and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
Pips came towards Paul, holding out her hands. She had dressed hastily and her hair was still tousled from sleep. ‘It’s bad news, isn’t it?’
Paul took her hands and nodded. ‘It’s George’ – Pips pulled in a sharp breath – ‘and Rebecca.’
Pips gasped. ‘Both of them?’
‘I’m so sorry, yes.’
‘How? The bombing?’
‘Come, sit down.’ Still holding her hands, he led her to a sofa and they sat down side by side.
‘The night before last there was a very bad raid. Your block of apartments took a direct hit.’
‘So, they hadn’t gone to the shelter?’ Her voice trembled and tears filled her eyes.
‘No.’ He paused and then added, gently, ‘They were found together. I presume Rebecca must have been visiting him when they both had some time off.’
Pips nodded. ‘She sometimes stayed the night if Matthew was working late. Does he know?’
‘He will by now.’
‘Has anyone told my family?’ Pips wiped her tears, blew her nose and tried to concentrate on practical matters. The time for weeping would surely come, but for now she had to be strong.
‘Milly’s gone up there to be with them. They know about George and Rebecca but not that you’re safe. None of us knew until this moment that you were here. I couldn’t get through by telephone, but of course a lot of the lines are down because of the bombing. Miraculously, I can get through to Lincolnshire. Besides, I wanted to see you in person to break the news.’
Pips nodded. ‘I’d better ring home. They’ll let me telephone from here.’
For a moment, Pips leaned her face against Paul’s shoulder and he put his arm around her. ‘Poor George,’ she whispered. ‘My poor, darling George and Rebecca too. Matthew will be devastated.’
Paul held her close. One day, he decided, he would tell her about Mitch and his frantic search for her, but now was not the time.
Thirty-Eight
It was the middle of the afternoon by the time the telephone rang again at the hall. The family were all in the parlour; no one wanted to move very far from any news that might come. Conrad had taken over all the surgery duties and the home visits so that Robert could stay with his family until they heard some definite news. Milly rushed to answer it, leaving the door into the parlour open.
‘Hello . . .?’ There was a pause and then a shriek. ‘Pips – oh Pips, dahling. Wait, let me get your father.’ But before she could move, they’d all risen and were hurrying into the hall. Edwin reached for the receiver, his voice husky as he said, ‘Pips? Is that you?’
‘Yes, it’s me. I’m fine. I wasn’t in London.’
‘Thank God!’ Edwin murmured, but then he cleared his throat. ‘We’re all so very sorry to hear about George and his daughter. If there’s anything you need us to do, you must tell us. We could come down . . .’
‘Thank you. I’ll let you know. I’ll keep in touch. Give my love to everyone—’ Her voice broke and she rang off hastily. Edwin replaced the receiver slowly. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, glancing at his wife. ‘She’s very upset.’
Henrietta nodded and murmured, ‘Of course.’
Leading the way back into the parlour, she turned to Wainwright who was hovering in the doorway. ‘Please tell all the staff that Miss Philippa is safe and then – would you bring us some fresh tea?’
The butler inclined his head and hurried away.
‘I suppose I ought to be getting back,’ Milly said, ‘unless there’s anything else I can do.’ She smiled tremulously. ‘I don’t want to outstay my welcome.’
‘My dear Milly,’ Henrietta said, ‘you could never do that. You’ve been an absolute angel – so kind and thoughtful to come all this way to be with us. We’re very grateful.’
‘At least stay until tomorrow morning,’ Alice suggested. ‘We don’t want you travelling back when there might be more bombing.’
‘That’s kind of you. I will, but I want to get back to be there for Pips.’
‘I thought you were staying in the country with your parents,’ Alice said.
‘I was, but I won’t go back there straightaway, not until I’ve seen if Pips needs my help. Oh dear . . .’ Suddenly Milly’s face crumpled as the enormity of Pips’s loss overwhelmed her.
Alice moved to her at once and put her arms about her. ‘You’ve been so wonderfully brave for all of us.’
Milly pulled in a deep breath and dried her tears. ‘George was such a dear man. Pips must be devastated. Paul will look after her, I know – he’ll take her to our apartment – but I do want to get back to her as soon as I can. I mean, she’ll have lost everything. All her belongings, apart from what she’d taken with her . . .’ Her voice trailed away.
‘Are you sure you don’t want one of us to come with you?’ Robert said.
Milly shook her head firmly. ‘No, it would only cause us more worry if you were down in London too. The Blitz, as people are calling it, is dreadful.’
‘We shall come for the funeral, of course, bombs or no bombs,’ Henrietta said, adding, ‘and, Robert, we really ought to try to get in touch with Daisy, now that we have definite news.’
‘Yes. I’ll telephone Hatfield. Leave that to me.’
Johnny heard the news from Mitch and at once rode over to Hatfield on his motorcycle.
‘She’s not here,’ Gill greeted him. ‘I don’t think she’ll be back until tomorrow at the earliest. They’ve got her delivering aircraft all over the place up north.�
�� She eyed his worried expression. ‘What is it?’
‘It’s George – her aunty Pips’s husband. He’s been killed in an air raid in London. His daughter too. I didn’t want Daisy to hear it by chance before her family – or I – can tell her.’
‘Oh no,’ Gill breathed. ‘How dreadful.’ She thought for a moment and then said, ‘Come with me. We’ll go and see Mary Bryant. She’ll know what to do for the best.’
Their operations manager was very understanding and sympathetic when Gill told her the news and added, ‘Daisy was very close to them both.’
The woman picked up the telephone. ‘I’ll see what I can do to get her back here as soon as possible.’
‘I could go and fetch her, if there’s a taxi aeroplane free,’ Gill offered.
‘No need. I can get her deliveries altered to get her back down here. It’s no real problem. Certainly not in the circumstances. Leave it with me. I’ll let you know.’ She smiled a little as she nodded towards Johnny’s anxious face. ‘Now, take this young man to get a cup of tea. He looks as if he could do with one.’
A little later, Mary Bryant received a telephone call from Robert. ‘I’ll make sure she’s all right,’ she promised him. ‘She has friends waiting for her and her young man has arrived. He wanted to tell her himself before she heard by accident.’
At the hall, Robert replaced the telephone thoughtfully and then went in search of his wife.
‘Alice, darling,’ he asked softly, ‘don’t say anything to anyone else, but who would you describe as Daisy’s “young man”?’
Alice gaped at him. ‘Well,’ she said slowly, ‘I can only think of Luke really. Or, I suppose, Harry.’
‘She’s kept that quiet, the little minx. I wonder which one it is.’
‘Probably Luke, if he’s gone to her. He’s the one with a motorcycle and besides, from what we’ve heard, Harry has a string of girlfriends.’
‘Mm, and he’ll leave a few broken hearts in the village.’
The Spitfire Sisters Page 24