Wartime with the Cornish Girls

by Betty Walker

  ‘You can leave those two up to me,’ Eva said confidently, and saw a flicker of what looked like disapproval in the other woman’s face. Now whatever had she said wrong?

  ‘What about the local paper?’ Alice piped up.

  ‘Oh, that’s a jolly good idea,’ Eva said warmly, smiling round at the younger girl. ‘Maybe you could write a note for the Penzance newspaper, as soon as we know the date, and cycle over there with it.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ Alice said, her eyes glowing.

  ‘Well …’ Eva could hear the rumble of male voices as the code-breakers and trainees left the mess hall and made their way back towards the underground listening post. ‘Time for me to dash, I’m afraid. Work calls! But let’s talk again soon. Once you’ve squared things with the vicar, Hazel. Then we can all get our posh frocks sorted out and buff up our dancing shoes.’

  There was a short silence.

  Eva glanced back at Hazel, who was still looking a little miffed, though she couldn’t imagine why. And now even Violet had an uncertain frown on her face, while Lily was gazing away into the distance, apparently in a world of her own. What a crew! Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers, and this was what she had to work with. And to be fair, some of the dancers she’d known at the club in London, whom she’d tried to organise into asking the manager for better pay, had been even less promising material.

  ‘Meanwhile, I’ll get cracking on that poster, and Alice can start drafting something for the local rag. All we need now is a firm time and date for the dance.’ Eva smiled at them winningly. ‘How does that sound?’

  ‘Excellent,’ Alice declared, and sucked on the end of her braided hair, seemingly oblivious to any tension in the air. ‘Truly excellent.’

  The sun was still warm, though it was already evening. Eva had intended to take a wander outside in the leafy grounds of the officers’ quarters where she had her room. But after a long shift, her feet were aching, so on getting back to her room, she’d kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged on her bed, working on a design for the dance poster.

  She’d only been there about fifteen minutes when a loud ‘tick’ at the window made her raise her head in surprise. Nothing else happened, so she continued her sketching. Seconds later, a louder ‘tick’ was followed by an ominous ‘crack’.

  Someone was throwing stones up at her window!

  ‘Who on earth …?’

  Eva jumped off the bed, abandoning her poster design, and pushed up the sash window, sticking her head out to peer down into the bushes below.

  Professor Templeton, in the act of throwing another pebble up at her bedroom window, lowered his arm sheepishly.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, and dropped the stone back into the undergrowth. ‘So you are in, after all. I was beginning to wonder.’

  She was rather enchanted by this boyish tactic of gaining her attention, but surprised too. ‘Haven’t you heard of using the stairs?’

  He stuck his hands in his pockets. ‘Ah, well, yes. But I didn’t fancy running into the colonel. I’m not sure if he’d approve of …’ He stopped short, and then seemed to focus on the plain white blouse she had worn to work. ‘Oh, have you forgotten about our walk to the beach? I’ve cleared it for this evening, just as you asked.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she said, smiling. ‘But I thought we were going after dark. Which isn’t for ages yet.’

  ‘The moon’s too full. Sergeant Cryer reminded me when I was asking about a moonlit walk. It’s what they’re calling a bomber’s moon in London.’

  She knew exactly what it meant when the moon was full in the capital: a rain of death and destruction. Yet somehow she had not expected the same horror to be enacted in the heart of the quiet Cornish countryside.

  ‘Even down here?’

  ‘Jerry’s intent on blowing us all to kingdom come, I’m afraid, even down here. Besides, we’re a target. The Germans know there’s a listening post in Cornwall. We got a heads-up a few months back that they’d be sending bombers along the coast, looking for the place.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  ‘Don’t worry. They haven’t managed to pinpoint our position yet.’

  Eva shivered, gazing out at the empty, still-blue skies above the shimmering sea. How foolish she’d been, to assume that by coming down here she was somehow escaping the war. All that death and mayhem in London …

  ‘What a dreadful thought.’

  ‘Sorry to burst your bubble,’ Templeton said regretfully. ‘You’ve been lucky, not having to go down into the bunker yet in the middle of the night. Someone should have told you to keep shoes and a dressing-gown by the door, just in case.’

  ‘That bad?’

  ‘Not recently. But we had a few close calls last month at the full moon, so everyone’s on high alert at the moment. Sky-watching, you know?’ He made a face. ‘Anyway, thing is, the sergeant warned me off the beach tonight. We’d be too visible. Best I can offer is a gentle cliff walk before sunset. How does that sound?’

  Eva nodded unhappily. She would have loved to wander across the pale sands of the beach with him in the moonlight. But now she knew about the bombers, she dismissed that as an impossible dream. The last thing she wanted was to bring that dark rain of devastation down on peaceful Porthcurno. Maybe one day when the war was finally over …

  ‘Sounds delightful.’

  Professor Templeton smiled with obvious relief, and bent to pick up a small wicker hamper at his feet. ‘Borrowed this from old Frobisher in the kitchen. He’s packed us a half bottle of wine and two glasses,’ he explained, seeing her curious glance. ‘And something to eat. Thought it might make up for not being allowed on the beach.’

  ‘Oh, you darling!’

  His mouth split in an appreciative grin. ‘So you’ll come down, then?’

  ‘Give me a jiffy to change into something fresh, and I’ll be with you,’ she promised him, shutting the sash window without waiting for his reply.

  Dragging the curtains across for privacy, she threw off her dull work clothes, gave herself a quick cold splash at the washstand, sprayed some perfume on her underthings, and combed out her hair.

  A little over ten minutes later, Eva ran down to meet him in flats and a pretty summer frock. She would have preferred to wear heels. But all her heels were deeply impractical for a cliff walk, unless she wanted to end up plunging to her death.

  Anyway, she suspected Professor Templeton wouldn’t mind her wearing flats. Not when it made her a little shorter than usual. Men often found her height intimidating, she had discovered to her cost, and wearing heels tended to wound their fragile egos further. Perhaps he wasn’t bothered, of course, being fairly tall himself. But she wasn’t taking any chances. Not on a first date.

  ‘You look … nice,’ he said, studying her, then held out his arm.

  She slipped her arm through his, and they started to walk towards the headland. It was a glorious evening, and the walk took them along a narrow woodland path under overhanging trees. It was really quite romantic, she thought, seeing the occasional white flash of bunny tails as rabbits scurried off through the undergrowth at their approach.

  At the end of the wooded glade, they stopped at a lonely guard post to show the signed permission slip Templeton had wangled from Sergeant Cryer, and then took the upper path away from the sands, up into the sunlit evening.

  ‘I’m sorry about the beach,’ he said as they came out on the cliff walk and paused to look down at the white sands and boulders of Porthcurno Beach.

  It was just as well they hadn’t gone onto the sands, she thought, gazing with dismay at the newly installed rolls of barbed wire strung along the top of the beach, and the vast anti-landing obstacles, scattered at intervals along the shoreline, intended to hinder a German invasion from the sea. Not exactly the romantic setting she had imagined. No wonder her father had steered her away from this spot during their walks.

  ‘Pooh,’ she said lightly, ‘who cares about a moonlit beach? We’ll have a gorgeou
s red sunset instead, and over the Cornish cliffs too. Not to mention wine.’

  Templeton met her eyes, smiling. ‘You’re a good sport, Eva.’ He hesitated, as though about to add something, then seemed to change his mind. ‘Look, I’ll get you back to your room before the moon rises, never fear.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, gazing out at the bright, sparkling tide as though that was all she cared about. ‘Oh, isn’t the view here marvellous? Shall we find somewhere to sit down and drink that wine?’

  But secretly, Eva was hoping for just a little moonlight on their walk back, even if she had to delay things a trifle, in order to get the moonlit kiss she’d been dreaming of.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Although their day shift had officially finished, George Cotterill had asked them to stay on for an extra hour to cover for the evening shift. One of the staff had gone down with the dreaded lurgy, Hazel was told, and she did not know how to say no to the request. So, even though the two girls were dragging themselves about wearily, flushed and droopy-eyed, she agreed they would stay on until the evening meal had been laid out and eaten, and all the tables cleared for the morning.

  Once they had finally hung up their aprons and headscarves, they traipsed down the steep slope to the guardhouse barrier to be let out.

  That was where George had said he would meet them.

  Hazel walked slowly, wheeling her bicycle, glad she would not have to ride it home. George had told her to bring it to the guardhouse, despite having a lift home, because apparently there would be ‘plenty of room for a bicycle’ in the back of the van.

  How big was this van, anyway?

  She still couldn’t quite believe her luck, that George Cotterill had promised her a vehicle for getting to and from work, and had even said she could fill it up the first few times with army fuel at the depot. In this time of shortages and rationing, she couldn’t imagine anything more generous.

  But was it really luck?

  She was uncomfortably aware that George had a soft spot for her. Had his feelings prompted this gesture?

  She hated the idea that people might be gossiping about her behind her back, perhaps suggesting that she and George were carrying on together. Which they absolutely weren’t, of course. But she could imagine what Bertie would make of such rumours, if they reached him at the front, courtesy of one of their interfering neighbours.

  ‘Is that it? Is that going to be ours?’ Alice exclaimed suddenly, pointing ahead.

  Hazel stopped dead and could only stare, dumbfounded, at the large white van with a faded red cross on its side.

  Surely not?

  But yes, George was there, leaning against the bonnet with his arms folded and a smile on his face.

  Violet too had come to a halt, right beside her. She exchanged glances with Hazel, then rubbed her tired eyes as though not sure she entirely trusted them. ‘I don’t believe it,’ she said blankly. ‘An ambulance? He’s giving us a bleedin’ ambulance?’

  ‘And from the Great War, by the look of it,’ Alice muttered, her eyebrows so high they almost disappeared into her fringe.

  ‘I … I’m sure there’s a good reason for that,’ Hazel said, on the defensive at once. She didn’t want George to think them ungrateful. ‘And it’s better than walking, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh, a thousand times better, Aunty Hazel,’ Alice agreed hurriedly, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze, then spoiled the effect by adding, ‘so long as it doesn’t break down.’

  Aunty Hazel?

  Hazel didn’t know where to look. But she rather liked the affectionate way Alice had said that. Charlie had been so distracted and withdrawn for months now, she had forgotten how it felt when someone was nice …

  ‘I love it,’ Lily declared, having walked all the way round the ancient, battered vehicle. She ran a hand over the faded red cross on its side panel. ‘It’s romantic.’

  George, who had been just about to hand the keys over to Hazel, paused, staring at the girl. ‘Romantic?’

  ‘Of course. Think of all the wounded soldiers it must have carried from the battlefield to the hospital, and all the nurses who tended them, in their smart white uniforms.’

  Hazel bit her lip, struggling not to smile. Violet had told her that Lily had some vague aspirations of becoming a nurse, despite the fact that the girl apparently went queasy at the sight of blood.

  ‘Or all the dead bodies it must have held,’ Alice pointed out ghoulishly.

  ‘D-dead bodies?’ Lily repeated in a faint voice, and abruptly withdrew her hand from the red cross, folding her arms across her chest instead. ‘Ugh, that’s horrid, Alice. You’ve gone and ruined it for me now.’ She took a step backwards, turning to Violet in pale-faced entreaty. ‘I … I hope it’s been cleaned out inside. I mean, proper cleaned out. With disinfectant and all. Because I don’t think as how I can get inside, otherwise.’

  Hazel smiled at last and met George’s amused eyes, and looked swiftly away.

  Oh goodness, she mustn’t look at him like that!

  ‘I doubt it carried many wounded soldiers, Lily,’ George said, giving the girl an understanding smile as he took the bicycle from Hazel, wheeling it to the rear. ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but this old ambulance hasn’t been used abroad. It came to us from the cottage hospital at Penzance, one of their cast-offs. And yes,’ he added, grinning at Lily’s suspicious stare, ‘it’s been thoroughly cleaned out since then.’

  Violet had opened the double doors at the back and was sniffing inside. ‘Hmm,’ was all she said, but ruffled Lily’s hair when the girl started to protest. ‘That’s enough, scallywag. There’s plenty of room in the back here, and it’s better than Shanks’s pony.’

  George had been loading the bicycle into the back of the former ambulance, but his brows drew together at this curious slang. ‘Shanks’s what, sorry?’

  ‘She means walking,’ Alice explained simply.

  ‘Ah, right.’ George stowed the bike, then came back and opened the front passenger door, which creaked noisily. He gestured Hazel inside. ‘It’s probably over twenty years old, and not in the best condition, it’s true. But it’s safe enough, according to the army mechanic who checked it over, and it’s yours if you want it.’

  Hazel climbed inside gratefully, her feet aching after the long day, and glanced through the narrow partition into the back. ‘Everyone all right back there?’

  There were two padded benches, one to each side, where presumably they had laid the sicker patients for transport. The girls were already seated together on one side, looking cheerful enough about this new adventure, with Violet sitting opposite, gripping onto a hanging strap with a fearful expression.

  ‘I’ll say!’ Alice exclaimed, grinning broadly.

  Lily said nothing.

  ‘Just don’t turn us over,’ Violet muttered. ‘I’d rather walk if it means not dying.’

  George laughed, and then closed the back doors on them. He climbed into the front seat and started the engine. The battered vehicle vibrated beneath them, but otherwise seemed sound enough as he turned it in the dusty track beside the barrier and then coaxed it up the hill out of the valley. As they drove, he showed Hazel where the various controls were, and told her what to say when she took it for refuelling at the army depot.

  ‘Here, listen to this,’ George said as they reached the main road, leaning forward to push a button on the dashboard. A jangling siren rang out in the evening air, turning heads among a squad of soldiers marching past on their nightly patrol. One of the men saluted him, and George grinned, raising a hand in response.

  Hazel clapped her hands over her ears.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, and turned the siren off. ‘I thought the girls might enjoy it.’

  ‘That was amazing,’ Alice shouted from the back.

  ‘Bleedin’ deafening, that’s what it was,’ Violet said unappreciatively, but Hazel could see she was smiling, and no longer clinging for dear life to the hanging strap.

  ‘At least
you won’t have any trouble clearing sheep out of the road,’ he said.

  The others laughed, and even Hazel had to join in. ‘Poor sheep,’ she said, lowering her hands to her lap, ‘they’d be terrified.’

  He shot her a smiling look, then transferred his attention back to the road as they rounded a corner perilously close to the cliff edge.

  ‘It’s very good of you to let us have this,’ she began carefully, but George shook his head, again refusing to allow her to thank him.

  ‘We need you at Eastern House,’ he said in a low voice, for her ears only. ‘I’d put you up there in the staff quarters if I could, save you a trip every morning. But I know you’d rather be at home for Charlie.’

  ‘That’s right. Charlie needs me.’

  ‘Let’s hear no more about it, then. You needed transport.’ He tapped the dashboard. ‘This was the best I could do.’

  ‘Well,’ she said archly, ‘there is a war on.’

  He threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  Hazel had never seen him so relaxed, and found it hard not to stare. It must be all this sunny weather, she decided, looking back at the road when he glanced in her direction. Even with the back-breaking work every day, somehow it still felt like a holiday. And she guessed that Violet and the girls must feel about the same, having escaped the horrors of the Blitz for the rural peace of Cornwall.

  They passed the turn to Swelle Farm, and she thought suddenly of Violet. ‘That’s where Joe lives now,’ Hazel called into the back, and the three of them scrabbled to see, though a house sign and a narrow winding lane with overhanging trees were their only reward. ‘That was his uncle’s farm, the one he’s just inherited.’

  ‘I bet it’s right big and posh,’ Lily breathed, in awe.

  ‘I wonder how many sheep he’s got,’ Alice said, gazing at the long field running up to the woods that hid the farmhouse.