by Ellie Dean
‘Oh, do look,’ said Jane, pointing to a tender coming towards them. ‘Who do you think they are?’
Sarah watched as the sturdy little boat was lashed alongside and a group of women in dark green uniform began to climb aboard and disappear below deck, while the sailors unloaded huge cardboard packing boxes. ‘I have no idea,’ she replied, ‘but they look very businesslike.’ She grasped Jane’s cold arm. ‘Come on, let’s get inside before we both turn into icebergs.’
It wasn’t long before they discovered that the women who’d come on board were from the Women’s Voluntary Service and were there to welcome them, and help smooth their way to their new and rather daunting futures.
They had set up at the trestle tables in the dining room, the mysterious boxes now unpacked to reveal huge stacks of smaller boxes with long string handles. Sarah and Jane joined the long queue and awaited their turn to be seen. It seemed the smaller boxes held something that everyone had to put over their faces like a mask, and even the babies had to have a special sort of covered-in cradle. The noise was tremendous, for the children had become over-excited and the women were chattering nineteen to the dozen as they speculated over what these women in uniform might do for them – and whether they had any news of their menfolk back in Malaya and Singapore.
‘Welcome to Scotland,’ said a plump middle-aged woman on the other side of a table with a bright smile. ‘Now, I will need your names first, and then we can get down to the real business in hand.’
Her accent was quite strong, and she had to repeat herself twice before Sarah fully understood what she was saying. ‘Sarah and Jane Fuller,’ she replied with an apologetic smile.
Their names and ages were duly noted down on an official-looking form. ‘Now, my dears,’ the woman said slowly and clearly, ‘you must be fitted with a gas mask each.’ She eyed them up and down and reached for two boxes from the stack behind her. ‘Try these for size.’
They had seen the other women trying these things on and they both struggled to get the unwieldy, foul-smelling rubbery things over their faces. They were tight and hot and extremely unpleasant.
‘I can’t breathe,’ shouted Jane, her voice muffled, eyes wide with terror as she tried ripping it off, only to get it entangled in her long hair.
Sarah rushed to help and then dragged her mask off too. ‘Will we have to wear these all the time?’ she asked in horror.
‘No dear, only if there’s a gas attack. But you have to keep them with you at all times. It’s the law.’ The Scottish woman eyed them both and gave a knowing smile. ‘They’re nae pretty, but they will save your life if Hitler decides to gas us.’
Jane looked at Sarah for reassurance, and Sarah squeezed her hand before helping her to pack the hated thing back into its box.
‘Now we’ve sorted that,’ said the woman, ‘what else can I help you with?’
‘Do you have any news of our family back in Singapore?’ Sarah asked breathlessly. ‘Only our mother was in the General Hospital when we left, and our father and my fiancé, Philip, were—’
‘I’m so sorry, my dear,’ the woman interrupted. ‘We have no news concerning the situation in Singapore.’ Her smile faltered as she saw the tears in Jane’s eyes. ‘There, there, wee lassie, no need for tears, not now you’re safe. I’m sure they’ll get a message to you as soon as they can.’
Sarah had clung to the hope that there would be news, just as every other woman had, and she swallowed her disappointment as she held tightly onto Jane’s hand.
The woman folded her hands on top of the table. ‘Now then, what sort of practical things can I get you to make you feel more at home here?’
‘We need warm clothing,’ said Sarah. ‘We’re both freezing.’
‘We also need proper shoes,’ said Jane as she woefully regarded her pretty sandals which were now falling apart.
‘There is something else,’ murmured Sarah as she leaned towards the woman, ‘but it’s a bit personal. You see, we both need—’
‘Tha’s nae problem, lassie,’ she said quickly. ‘They will be provided as a matter of course.’ She smiled back at them. ‘Now, I’ll need to take some rough measurements,’ she said, rising from her chair with a tape measure.
Once they’d been measured and their shoe sizes taken, they were handed emergency ration books and food stamps, and forms to fill in so they could apply for more when they reached their destination. Then they were dismissed with another cheery smile and the woman in the queue behind them took their place.
‘I hope we never have to wear those horrid things again,’ said Jane as they returned to their place below deck and she flung the gas-mask box onto her mattress.
‘So do I,’ replied Sarah as she sat down on her mattress. ‘Because it will mean we’re being gassed like those poor men in the trenches in the first war.’ She realised Jane didn’t know what she was talking about, and changed the subject. ‘I wonder what sort of clothes we’ll get,’ she murmured. ‘The things we’ve brought are worn to bits after wearing and washing them over and over.’
‘I just hope we don’t all end up in that horrid green uniform – we would look silly.’
‘I don’t care how silly we look,’ Sarah said as she lay down and pulled the blanket up to her chin. ‘I just want to feel warm again, and if that means wearing that uniform, then so be it.’
Jane was soon asleep, untroubled by the fears and doubts that assailed Sarah. She lay awake on the lumpy mattress for a long time, thinking about what tomorrow might bring. They were almost at the end of this journey, but there was still a long way to go before they would reach Cliffehaven, and she still didn’t know if there was anyone there prepared to take them in. There had been no time for a reply to her father’s telegram to get through before they’d had to leave Singapore. What if neither of the great aunts were alive, or if they were simply too old to cope? How on earth would she find somewhere else for them to stay when she had so little English money to pay for lodgings?
She turned restlessly and drew her knees up to try and garner as much warmth as she could beneath the thin blanket. She had no idea how big Cliffehaven was, or how badly it might have been affected by the war. Life was bound to be very different in England, especially during a war, and it would be hard enough to learn the way things were done, without the added worry over finding them both accommodation and some sort of job. Pops had said he’d made arrangements with the bank in Cliffehaven, but now Singapore had fallen, she rather feared that such arrangements were no longer valid. It was all very worrying, and it was a long time before she managed to fall asleep.
They awoke to discover the ship had steamed further up the River Clyde and was now docked at the quayside of a big harbour where everything seemed to be painted grey. It was a dull day, with an icy wind that whipped up the river from the sea and cut to the bone. Even the gulls sounded mournful, as if they too longed for a clear blue sky and a warm, tropical breeze instead of the colourless clouds and steely sea.
Just after lunch each woman was presented with a neat brown paper parcel which bore her name, and everyone raced back to their sleeping quarters to see what they’d been given.
‘It’s like Christmas,’ said Jane as she wrestled with the string and tore back the paper. Her eyes widened as she pulled out a lovely blue woollen dress, two skirts, a hand-knitted cardigan and matching jumper, and a thick overcoat. There was a pair of sturdy lace-up shoes, two pairs of socks, warm vests and nightclothes, a pair of gloves, a beret and a scarf. ‘What have you got, Sarah?’ she asked excitedly.
Sarah found a tartan skirt, a navy dress and a pair of loose trousers. There were two thick woollen jumpers, a gabardine raincoat, shoes, thick stockings, warm underwear and a hand-knitted set of bright blue beret, gloves and scarf. The shoes were a bit worn and felt strange on her feet, but everything fitted very well considering how slapdash the WVS woman’s measuring had been.
She bundled the spare clothes and sanitary pads into their cases and made
sure Jane didn’t leave her gas-mask box behind. Dressed in their new finery, they took one last look at their sleeping quarters with a touch of nostalgia, and headed back to the dining room where they’d been ordered to muster in preparation for landing.
Sarah glanced at Jane, who was looking so pretty in her red woollen beret and scarf and dark navy coat. She felt warm for the first time in days, but it wasn’t just the clothes that heartened her – it was the generosity of those who’d given so much in a time of great austerity. The people of Glasgow had welcomed a ship full of strangers with such heartfelt kindness that it brought tears to her eyes.
It was late afternoon before they could disembark, and Sarah had to smile as she recalled the dire warnings the South Africans had given them about not being made welcome, for as they went slowly down the gangway to the wharf, they were greeted with loud cheers and cries of ‘Well done!’ and ‘Welcome home!’ from the waiting crowd. Flash bulbs went off as newspapermen took their pictures, and hands reached out to them with more gifts of woollen mittens and socks.
‘Gosh,’ breathed a wide-eyed Jane. ‘It isn’t as if we’ve done anything very special – but how lovely everyone is to give us such a friendly welcome.’ She tucked her hand into the crook of Sarah’s arm. ‘I think I’m going to like it in England,’ she said happily.
Sarah squeezed her arm. She checked that Jane hadn’t mislaid her case or gas-mask box in the crush, then they followed the rest of the women and children on the short walk to the station. The doughty ladies of the WVS were waiting for them with warmed bottles and extra nappies for the babies, sticking plasters for scraped knees, and plates of sandwiches and biscuits and cups of hot tea.
‘Eat while you can,’ one of the women advised Sarah. ‘There will only be drinking water on the train, and you won’t arrive in London until tomorrow morning.’
Jane eagerly tucked into a sandwich and recoiled in disgust. ‘Urgh! What on earth is this?’
‘It’s spam and margarine,’ she was told rather firmly. ‘You’ll get used to the taste. Now eat up. Waste not, want not – there is a war on, you know.’
The woman strode away and Jane eyed the pink fatty meat and the smear of margarine, which tasted oily and most unpleasant. ‘Do I have to eat this?’ she whispered to Sarah. ‘Isn’t there anything else?’
Sarah had tasted her sandwich by now and agreed with Jane that it was quite disgusting. ‘I don’t think there is,’ she murmured, ‘but we’d better not throw these away in case we get into trouble.’ She surreptitiously wrapped both sandwiches in her handkerchief, tucked them into her raincoat pocket and just hoped the grease didn’t seep through and ruin her coat. ‘Fill up on biscuits and tea,’ she advised her sister before reaching for the plate of digestives.
The train was already in the station, puffing smoke almost contentedly from the stack as the sooty-faced driver and stoker leaned out to chat to the children until everyone had finished their tea and clambered aboard. The carriages were open ones, with hard, upright seats in serried ranks, and sturdy squares of black-painted wood were nailed over all the windows. The only light came from a couple of very dim bulbs in the ceiling.
Sarah and Jane put their cases in the rack above their seats and helped the other women with their babies and small children. It was going to be a long night, for the carriage was crowded, the seats were uncomfortable, the children were making a lot of noise – and they could barely see their way to get around.
But as the whistle blew and the great iron wheels began to turn, Sarah felt a surge of excitement that was tempered with sadness. They had spent two months getting here, and she still didn’t know if her parents and Philip had managed to escape Singapore. She was miles from home, on her way to a place she’d never been, with a sister who needed caring for – but it was an adventure, and she had the feeling that she would remember this chapter in her life for the rest of her days.
Cordelia had spent another restless night worrying about Sybil and her two daughters. She had hoped that Ron would have found out something by now – but almost a week had passed and he’d said nothing.
She got ready for the day, grabbed her walking stick and went downstairs to find Harvey snoring by the range and Peggy and the three girls at the breakfast table. Fran was babbling as usual, flashing her blue eyes and flicking back her fiery hair as she described the fun she’d had the previous night at a fund-raising dance.
‘To be sure and you missed a treat, Suzy, so you did,’ she said between spooning porridge into her mouth. ‘There’s a new swing band just started up, and they’re very good. We danced until our feet were sore – and then went round to the side entrance of the Anchor, where Tommy let us all in for a drink.’
‘So Tommy Findlay’s breaking the licensing laws, is he?’ said Peggy, her face stiff with disapproval. ‘Rosie won’t thank him if he gets her pub shut down.’
‘Ach, Peggy, you worry too much,’ said Fran lightly. ‘Tommy’s only doing what a lot of the landlords are doing – and you have to admit, the opening hours are far too short.’ She turned back to Suzy. ‘I’m on late shift today, but there’s another dance at the weekend. We could go together, or make up a four.’
Suzy blushed and kept her gaze on her bowl of porridge. ‘I’ll see what Anthony’s plans are, but yes, that sounds like fun.’
‘So, how’s it going with you two?’ asked Rita as she finished her porridge. ‘Had a run-in with Doris yet?’
Suzy chuckled. ‘Not yet. Anthony was all for taking me home to tea so we could get to know one another a bit better, but I managed to dissuade him. Doris is daunting at the best of times, and I don’t want to spoil things.’
‘I don’t blame you,’ said Rita. She shot an apologetic glance at Peggy. ‘Doris isn’t the sort of mother-in-law I’d want, and that’s a fact.’
‘Oh, Rita, things haven’t gone that far,’ Suzy protested.
‘From what I saw the other night, they seem to be going like a steam train,’ retorted Rita. ‘I saw you both huddled up in the shelter on the seafront so tight you couldn’t have put a farthing between you.’ She giggled. ‘It was absolutely freezing, but neither of you seemed to notice. It must be love.’
Suzy’s face went red. ‘You could be right,’ she murmured, ‘but it’s very early days yet.’
Cordelia watched this exchange with amusement. It was heartening to see how love had blossomed in Suzy – and it restored her faith in the human race. For despite the war and privations, the tragedies and the trials, love could still be found, and life still went on. She sipped her tea and tucked into her porridge. Perhaps today wouldn’t be so bad after all.
‘Where’s Ron?’ she asked as the girls bustled out to get on with their day.
‘He must have gone out early,’ said Peggy as she warmed a bottle for Daisy. ‘Why, was there something you wanted him to do? Can I help?’
Cordelia hastily shook her head. ‘I was merely curious,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t usually miss his breakfast – and it’s unlike him not to take Harvey.’
As if on cue, Harvey scrambled off the rug in front of the fire and dashed to the cellar door. Whining, he danced on his toes, his tail windmilling as the garden door slammed and Ron’s heavy tread could be heard coming up the steps. As the door opened, Harvey leaped up, front feet on Ron’s shoulders as he licked his face in delight.
‘Will yer get down, you daft eejit,’ he protested as he dodged the tongue and tried to get through the door. ‘Lord love you, Harvey, anyone would think I’ve been away for days.’
‘And where exactly have you been?’ asked Peggy as she put Daisy on her lap and gave her the bottle of formula milk.
‘We had an overnight exercise with the Home Guard,’ he said as he took off his tin hat and dumped the hessian bag on a nearby chair.
‘You seem to have those quite regularly,’ she said dryly. ‘Are you sure you haven’t got some woman tucked away?’
He looked at her in amazement. ‘Lord love you, Peggy
girl – and what would I be doing with another woman when I have me Rosie?’
She regarded him levelly for a moment. ‘Well, you’ve been up to something,’ she said finally, ‘and if it’s not another woman, then it must be mischief. Just for goodness’ sake don’t get into trouble with the police. I have enough on my plate without having to get you out of a prison cell.’
Ron chuckled and filled a bowl with porridge. He sat down at the table, poured a cup of tea and began to eat. ‘There’ll be no prison and no police,’ he said, ‘and I’m old enough to stay out all night if I want to. Don’t worry about me, Peggy girl. I’ll not bring trouble to your door.’
Peggy finished feeding Daisy and deposited her in the playpen, then she went upstairs to check that the girls had stripped their beds properly so she could do the laundry.
‘I have good news,’ Ron said quietly as Peggy’s footsteps could be heard on the upstairs landing.
Cordelia leaned closer so she could hear him properly, and when he’d finished, she grasped his hand thankfully. ‘That’s wonderful, Ron,’ she said. ‘How soon do you think we’ll hear whether they’re on their way here, or have stayed in South Africa?’
‘My friend didn’t say, but I would imagine they’d be in touch fairly quickly if they were wanting a place to stay here.’
Cordelia could feel her face going pink as he looked into her eyes and patted her hand. ‘I must start organising their rooms just in case,’ she twittered, all of a dither. ‘Thank you, Ron.’
‘Now, you’re not to be upset if they’ve decided to stay in Cape Town,’ he warned.
‘Oh, I won’t,’ she said happily. ‘Not now I know they’re alive.’
Chapter Eighteen
The journey south seemed to take for ever. The seats were hard and uncomfortable, making it almost impossible to sleep, and there always seemed to be a baby crying somewhere or a toddler demanding attention. It was also frustrating not to be able to see out of the windows, and the stifling darkness soon became claustrophobic.