A Different World (5 page)

For the most part the villagers had accepted the evacuees and the arrangements for the children’s education were working satisfactorily, but everyone was wondering if it had been necessary after all. No bombs had been dropped by either side, except in Poland and, in most people’s opinions, that was too far away to worry about.

‘I told you there was no need for all that panic,’ Louise’s father told her one day when she went home for a visit. It was the first
weekend of the thaw in March and the difficulties of travel had eased enough for her to go. Apart from the sandbags round the doorways of public buildings, the unused air raid shelters, the anti-aircraft guns in the parks and the blackout, London was as it always had been. Shops, cafes, theatres and cinemas carried on as usual: people still went to football matches, still danced until the early hours – not that Louise knew anything about dancing to the early hours. ‘You can come home and go back to Stag Lane. I believe many of the children have already returned.’

She didn’t want to do that. For the first time in her life she felt free of oppression, which was strange considering it was wartime. In spite of the identity cards, ration books and the call-up, it didn’t feel like war. And living at the Pheasant was fun. In the evenings it was always noisy and full of laughter; there was, so far, nothing to be miserable about. Tony had invited her to go to the pictures in Swaffham with him and, greatly daring, she had said yes. That was another first. The cinema was nearly as bad as a public house for wickedness, as far as her father was concerned, so she hadn’t told him. He knew where she was living because, one Saturday shortly after her arrival in Cottlesham, he had come down to inspect the so-called hotel where she was staying. It had not been a happy visit.

He had laid down the law in his quiet, determined way, expecting her meekly to give up and go home, but the presence of Mr and Mrs Gosport – and Tony – gave her the courage to stand up for herself and for the pub. ‘There is nothing wrong with staying here,’ she told her father. ‘It is a decent, law-abiding place and these are decent, law-abiding people. My job is here with the children, especially since the rest of the school has landed up in Yorkshire somewhere and I am the only one here to teach them. If you like, I’ll introduce you to Mr Langford, the headmaster of
the village school, and the Reverend Capstick. They will vouch for what I say.’

Reluctantly he had agreed to meet the two men. He approved of John Langford, he had been a hero, but the parson was not to his liking at all. ‘Too modern, too slack,’ was his opinion. ‘And to go about in check trousers and a baggy jumper is hardly fitting for a man of the cloth.’

In the end, he had declined Jenny’s offer of staying for a meal and had gone home muttering imprecations about Louise coming to a sticky end. But for her mother, she would not have gone home at all, and every time she did she was subjected to the same bullying tactics, and every time she left she felt guilty that she had escaped and her mother had to put up with it all day, every day.

She had another reason for wanting to stay in Norfolk and that was Tony. He seemed to have taken a liking to her and she to him. He had been born and brought up in Essex, the only son of a builder. ‘I wanted to do a bit more than just build houses,’ he told her. ‘So I went to technical college and qualified as a surveyor. That’s how I came to be working on the airfields.’

‘What will you do when the airfield is finished?’ They were strolling back to the pub from the bus stop on the main road after a visit to the cinema. He had hold of her hand. She thought that was greatly daring, but did not take her hand away.

‘I’ve done it already. I decided not to wait for call-up. I’ve enlisted in the air force.’

‘Oh, Tony, you didn’t say.’

‘I’m saying now. I’ve always wanted to fly ever since I was a boy. There was a chap with a Tiger Moth came to an airfield near us when I was about fifteen. He was giving people half-hour trips and Dad paid for me to go up. I loved it. The ground was all spread
out below me like a map: roads, rivers, buildings. I was so excited I forgot to be afraid.’

‘A bit different from flying in wartime, though, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but if I’m going to do my bit, then that’s the way I want to do it. It’s better than going into the army or the navy, poor devils.’ The navy was the only service that had been in serious combat and had suffered significant losses. Nothing much was happening on land.

‘Then you’ll be leaving Cottlesham soon?’

‘That was always on the cards. But we’ll keep in touch, won’t we?’

‘Yes, if you want to.’

‘Of course I want to. I’ve grown very fond of you. In fact …’ He hesitated then rushed on. ‘I was thinking of asking you to marry me.’

‘Marry you?’

‘Yes. Oh, I know it’s a bit sudden and you might want some time to think about it, but I had to tell you what’s on my mind. It’s been on my mind since Christmas.’ He chuckled suddenly. ‘When we kissed under the mistletoe in the bar parlour, you remember …’

‘I remember.’ How could she forget? There had been a crowd in the pub and they had all laughed and clapped and made her blush to the roots of her hair.

‘That’s when I knew I’d fallen for you, hook, line and sinker and nothing would please me more than if you felt the same way.’

‘You’ve bowled me over.’

He laughed. ‘That was the general idea.’

‘Oh, Tony, I don’t know what to say.’

‘You could say yes.’

She stopped to turn and face him. ‘It’s a big step and I don’t know what my parents will say.’

‘I’m not asking to marry your parents, just you, my darling.’

She put a hand up to touch his face. He grabbed it and kissed the palm. The feel of his lips on the inside of her wrist sent shivers down her spine. ‘Well?’ he queried. ‘How long do you need to make up your mind?’

She laughed. ‘Will ten seconds do?’

Solemnly he counted to ten and ended. ‘So what is it to be?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, Tony, I will marry you.’

He picked her up from the ground and swung her round and round until they were both giddy. ‘I promise you will never regret it,’ he said, setting her on her feet, then kissing her as she had never been kissed before. ‘We are going to be so, so happy.’

With their arms round each other, they continued on their way. ‘I’ll have to tell my parents,’ she said.

‘And I’ll have to tell mine.’

‘What do you think they’ll say?’

‘Mine will be happy for me. We’ll go down at the weekend and tell them, shall we? We could call in on your mum and dad afterwards. And I’ll buy you a ring, make it official.’

‘Hang on, you’re going a bit fast for me.’

‘Oh, do you want to wait?’

He sounded so disappointed, she laughed. ‘No, no, let’s get it over with – telling my parents, I mean.’

Mr and Mrs Walsh lived in a substantial four-bedroomed house next to the builder’s yard just outside Witham. Philip Walsh had built it to his own design and Peggy had added touches of her own in the decor and furnishings; it was not only a beautiful house, it was a home full of love. They welcomed Louise with hugs and kisses, inspected her small diamond engagement ring and said how happy they were that Tony had found himself a nice girl, and Tony had grinned, half in pleasure,
half in embarrassment and said he knew how lucky he was.

‘Are you going to stay the night?’ Peggy Walsh asked. ‘I can soon make up a couple of beds.’

Tony looked at Louise. ‘We planned to go on to Edgware and tell Louise’s parents our news.’

‘You can do that tomorrow. You’ve got the whole weekend, haven’t you? I see so little of you and I want to get to know Louise.’

Louise knew it was cowardly but she seized the opportunity to delay what she knew would be a confrontation, and they stayed until Sunday morning, leaving after breakfast.

Her parents had just come back from church when they arrived at the vicarage. ‘You could have made the effort to get here in time to attend morning service,’ her father said.

‘I’m sorry, Reverend,’ Tony put in before Louise could speak. She was hugging her mother. ‘We would have been but the train was late getting into London.’

Henry looked at Tony. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Tony Walsh, a friend of your daughter. We met when you came to Cottlesham, you remember.’

‘So we did.’

‘He is more than a friend, Father,’ Louise said, holding out her left hand to display her ring. ‘We are engaged to be married.’

‘Engaged? Since when?’

‘Since last week when Tony asked me and I said yes.’

‘Without consulting your parents, what is the world coming to?’

‘I do not need to consult you, Father. I am of age.’

‘Years don’t necessarily make you wise. I should like to know a little bit more about this young man.’

‘Of course,’ Tony said, squeezing Louise’s hand to reassure her that he had the situation under control. ‘I’ll be pleased to answer all your questions.’

‘I must go and see about lunch,’ Faith said and disappeared into the kitchen, followed by Louise.

‘You are happy for me, Mum, aren’t you?’ Louise asked as her mother set about preparing vegetables. There was already a small joint of beef in the oven.

‘Of course I am, darling. He seems a nice boy.’

Louise picked up a knife and stood at the kitchen table to shred a cabbage which she had brought with her along with other produce Jenny had given her. Vegetables were much easier to obtain in the country than the town. ‘Oh, he is. He’s kind and considerate and we agree about almost everything. And I love him dearly.’

‘I’m glad for you, but I wish you had said you were coming. I used up nearly all my meat coupons to buy a joint, your father does like his Sunday roast, but it’s so tiny, I’m afraid it won’t stretch to four.’

‘Never mind, Mum, I’m sure we’ll manage. You don’t need to give me any meat, just the gravy and Yorkshire pud. You always make such lovely puddings and gravy.’ She paused. ‘I wonder what they’re talking about.’

‘No doubt your father is grilling the young man about his prospects. I do hope he doesn’t mind.’

‘No, I warned him it might happen and he said that was as it should be.’

‘Have you decided on the wedding? I expect your father will want to officiate.’

‘We aren’t getting married for the moment. There’s the war, and Tony has joined the air force. He’ll be called up any day now, so we’ll wait a bit. It will give us a chance to save up.’

Louise went back into the sitting room to find her father in what was, for him, a genial mood, opening a bottle of sherry to
celebrate. She breathed a sigh of relief. How Tony had done it she did not know, but it made her realise just what a treasure she had in him. He would always be a bulwark against her father’s tyranny and she loved him all the more for it.

‘I was afraid there’d be a row,’ she said when they were in the train on the way back to Cottlesham. ‘How did you manage to win Father over?’

‘By keeping my temper and being as cool as he was. I’m not sure he is convinced I am good enough for his daughter, but at least he accepted the inevitable.’ He laughed. ‘I had to assure him I was a churchgoing Christian.’

‘Tony, that’s a whisker.’

‘No, it isn’t. I go to church at Easter and Christmas and for weddings and funerals.’

‘That wouldn’t count. You didn’t tell him that, did you?’

‘No, of course not. Look, sweetheart, I don’t think this phoney war will last, something is bound to happen before long and then everyone’s lives will change. I don’t think we need to worry too much about your father’s stuffiness.’

‘Oh, Tony, I’m so glad I’ve got you.’

‘And I you.’

Tony’s prediction proved only too true. The following month Hitler, whose occupation of Poland was complete, invaded Norway and then Denmark, ostensibly to protect the neutrality of those countries against a French and British invasion. The Allies did go to the aid of Norway but had to withdraw in the face of more compelling problems in the rest of Europe. Hitler ignored the neutrality of Belgium and Holland and sent his tanks and guns across both countries and into France. At the end of May, the British Expeditionary Force, which had been in France all through what had come to be called ‘The Phoney War’, was driven back to
Dunkirk. Three hundred and thirty-eight thousand troops were evacuated, thanks to the little pleasure craft which went with the naval ships to bring them off the beaches. But they had to leave all their guns, ammunition and equipment behind.

There was no doubt that it was a military disaster but the rescue was claimed as a miracle. Winston Churchill, now prime minister, while warning that ‘wars are not won by evacuation’, was at his most defiant and promised that the country would defend itself at whatever cost and would never surrender. France signed an armistice with Germany on the 22nd June, and everyone knew the British Isles were next on Hitler’s agenda and prepared for invasion. In Churchill’s words, the Battle of Britain was about to begin.

Louise bade a tearful farewell to Tony whose call-up papers had come through, and settled down to teach those London children who were still in Cottlesham, including Tommy and Beattie. Their mother came to visit them occasionally, but not as often as she would have liked. She was now working in a munitions factory and, having no one to look after Beattie while she worked, was glad to leave her with Jenny. The two women got on well, mainly because Jenny, though she had come to love the children dearly, never tried to usurp the place of their real mother.

Some of the other children were not so lucky and Louise and Edith had had to soothe ruffled feathers on more than one occasion. Freddie Jones and Harry Summers had set up a gang of Londoners dedicated to fighting the village children and the battles were fierce and unmitigating and the two boys had to be separated at school, but it was impossible to keep an eye on them out of school hours. The situation was eased when Harry’s mother decided to fetch him home.

Tony was training somewhere in the north of England. He
wrote loving letters to Louise as often as he could and she replied, telling him about the happenings in the village and the school, trying to amuse him and not be too gloomy. ‘Several of the young village men have gone into the army, even though farming is a reserved occupation,’ she reported. ‘The farmers have taken on land girls in their place, and Stan has joined the Home Guard. They are digging trenches all over the place and learning to shoot with their new rifles and to throw hand grenades, so you can be sure we will be well defended.

‘Half the cellar at the Pheasant has been made into an air raid shelter with a few chairs and a cupboard full of emergency rations. There’s a primus stove down there and a kettle and teapot, so if we have to go down there, we won’t starve. All we’ve got to do is remember to take some milk down when we go. So far we haven’t had to use it. The council came and built a brick shelter in the school playground and the children have been practising marching out to it in an orderly fashion and donning their gas masks. They don’t seem a bit frightened and think it is great fun and a good excuse to miss lessons. That may change if we get a real raid close by.

‘Beattie is way ahead for her age, which comes from going to school early, I suppose. And the rest of the children are doing well. I’m going to coach the brightest of them for the scholarship next year. That is, if we are still here, which I assume we will be. Are you going to have a passing out parade when your training is done? I suppose then you will become operational. I am dreading that, but you must know that wherever you are or whatever you are doing I shall be with you in spirit always. Your very loving Louise.’

The reason Louise was dreading Tony becoming operational was that the Battle of Britain was being fought in the air and every day they would learn from the Home Service bulletins how many
aircraft had been lost, and aircraft meant airmen too, though some were able to bail out. The Luftwaffe started by attacking British ships in the Channel and bombing Channel ports and airfields around London. It was happening mostly in the south but with so many airfields in East Anglia the people there were far from immune. Cambridge and Norwich and some of the Norfolk airfields were bombed. When the first bombs were dropped on London, Louise went home to try and persuade her parents to move to the country.

The train as far as Ely had spare seats but after Ely, where she changed to a London-bound train, it was a different story and she resigned herself to standing all the way to Liverpool Street. A young airman with a Poland flash on his shoulder stood up and bowed to her. ‘Please, take my seat.’

She thanked him and sat down. He went to stand in the corridor but when another passenger left the train at Cambridge, he returned to sit beside her. He took a cigarette packet from his pocket and offered her one.

‘No thank you, I don’t smoke.’

‘Do you mind if I do?’

‘Not at all.’

He lit up, blowing the smoke towards the open window.

‘How long have you been in England?’ she asked.

‘I arrived just before Christmas.’

‘It’s a pity you didn’t go straight back again,’ another passenger put in. She was a middle-aged woman, wearing a light linen coat and a felt hat with a sweeping red feather. Her lips, drawn into a thin line of disapproval, were scarlet. ‘We don’t want you here.’

‘How can you say that?’ Louise demanded. ‘The Poles are our allies, our only allies at this moment.’

‘It’s their fault, this war,’ the woman went on, to a murmur of
agreement from the fat man sitting beside her. ‘They brought it on themselves, sending troops into Germany – asking for it, that was. And then they expect us to dig them out of it.’

‘I think you have been badly misinformed,’ Louise said, furious with her. Whether the other occupants of the carriage agreed or disagreed, she did not know; they remained silent. ‘Poland was overrun by the Germans, just as the rest of Europe was. You should blame Hitler for this war, no one else.’

‘What do you know about it?’ the fat man demanded. ‘A mere slip of a thing not long out of the schoolroom, I shouldn’t wonder.’

‘I know better than to believe German propaganda. Anyone with half an eye can see that Hitler has been planning this all along.’

‘Please,’ the Polish airman said, laying a hand on Louise’s arm. ‘Do not argue with them.’

‘Aren’t you going to stick up for yourself?’

He smiled. ‘It would make no difference. They believe what they want to believe. I have heard it all before.’

‘I’m very sorry. I am sure not everyone agrees with them.’

‘You are very kind.’

‘Kind be blowed! I hate injustice.’ She opened a packet of tomato sandwiches Jenny had made up for her and offered him one.

‘I cannot take food meant for you,’ he said.

‘Goodness, I’m not starving. There’s more here than I need. Do have one.’

He thanked her and took one and the women in the feathered hat snorted. ‘Jezebel,’ she said.

Louise took a deep breath. The woman was not worth fighting. She smiled. ‘Takes one to know one.’

A laugh from a soldier sitting in the corner defused the situation
and the rest of the journey was completed in silence.

When they all gathered up their belongings and left the train at Liverpool Street, the Polish airman, his kitbag slung over his shoulder, walked alongside Louise towards the barrier. ‘Are you in a hurry, Miss?’ he asked. ‘I would like to buy you a cup of coffee. To say thank you, you understand.’

She turned to look at him. He was tall and good-looking and his blue eyes appealed. ‘You do not have to thank me, but yes, I’d love to have a cup of coffee.’

They went to the station canteen. ‘I am Jan Grabowski,’ he told her, when he came back to the table after queuing for two cups of coffee. Neither had wanted anything to eat. ‘In my own country I am a captain, here I am just a flying officer.’

She was aware that he was trying to make a joke of what must have seemed a humiliation, and smiled. ‘I am pleased to meet you
Captain
Grabowski. My name is Louise Fairhurst.’ She held out her right hand but instead of shaking it, he took it in his and kissed the back of it.

‘I am very pleased to meet you, Miss Fairhurst.’

She suppressed the impulse to giggle at this extravagance of chivalry and sipped her drink. It was hot but didn’t taste a bit like coffee.

‘Do you live in London?’ he asked, sitting down opposite her.

‘No, my parents do. I lived with them until war broke out and then I took my class of children to Norfolk to be safe.’

‘You are a teacher?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then that is why you keep yourself better informed than some of your compatriots.’

His English, she noted, although heavily accented, was very good. ‘I don’t think of myself as well informed, but I do read the
newspapers. We all know what Poland had to go through, or we ought to. It must have been terrible. Were you in the Polish Air Force at the time?’

‘Yes. And you are right, it was terrible. We were heavily outnumbered and our aircraft were no match for the Messerschmitt. The worst was when we realised we could not win and that to have any chance of continuing the fight we had to leave the country. When I came away Warsaw was in ruins but still fighting, still hoping the Allies would come. The people believed the promise made to them by your Mr Chamberlain, but it was not to be.’

‘I am sorry,’ she said softly. ‘I don’t think people should make promises they can’t keep, but perhaps he didn’t know he wouldn’t be able to honour it.’

‘Perhaps.’ It was said with a resigned sigh. ‘We had to leave our loved ones behind to live under the German occupation.’

‘You are married?’

‘Yes, we had been married a year. Rulka is a nurse. She could not leave with me. I have written to her many, many times, but I have heard nothing from her.’

It was evident he wanted to talk to someone and she was prepared to listen. ‘I imagine it must be almost impossible to get news in or out.’

‘Yes, that’s what I tell myself all the time. I say, “Jan Grabowski, be sensible. The Germans are beasts, but not even they would harm doctors and nurses needed to tend the wounded.”’

‘There you are, then. You must not give up hope.’

‘No, it is hope that keeps me going, that keeps all my countrymen going. In spite of everything …’

‘Everything?’ She sensed there was more to come.

‘The loss of our country. That comes hard and is bad enough,
but unlike France we did not ask for an armistice. Poland will never surrender.’

‘That’s what Churchill said about this country; we will never surrender.’

‘Yes, I like his spirit. He welcomed us, not like that woman on the train and the air marshals who think we Poles cannot be trusted in one of their precious aeroplanes without an Englishman to hold our hands. We have been in combat, we know what it’s like, the British pilots are – how do you say it? – still wet behind the ears.’

Said in his strange accent, the phrase sounded excruciatingly funny, and she laughed. ‘Your English is very good. Where did you learn it?’

‘I was fortunate that my father was able to send me to a good school where English was on the curriculum and I read English at the university in Warsaw. Since I have been in England I have been employed teaching my compatriots the language and learning more myself. The Air Ministry will not let us fly in fighter squadrons until we have all learnt it. We have been put in the Volunteer Reserve of the Royal Air Force and are subject to King’s regulations. They wanted us to swear allegiance to the King but we refused. I have nothing against your king, you understand, but we are Poles, our allegiance is to Poland. It has made some of my countrymen very frustrated and angry. They cannot fight the Germans so they quarrel with each other.’ He sighed. ‘It is not good.’

‘No, but understandable. Is that all you have been doing, teaching English?’

‘No, I have been learning to fly in a Blenheim bomber with a British crew. Bombers are necessary but that is not the flying I know. I am a fighter pilot and my aim is to shoot down as many
German aircraft as I can. Then when there are no more, then I can go back to Poland and Rulka.’

‘Rulka is a pretty name. Is she pretty?’

‘She is beautiful. Here, I will show you.’ He felt in his breast pocket and produced a snapshot. ‘It is the only thing I brought out of Poland, except my wings.’

Louise studied the image. Rulka, standing beside Jan, was petite; the top of her head hardly came up to his shoulder. It was a black and white photograph but she could see that the girl’s hair was dark and she was indeed pretty. ‘She looks very young.’

‘She is small. I call her my
myszka
.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Mouse. She is my little mouse, but she has the heart of a lion. She will be twenty-four next week and I cannot even wish her a happy birthday.’

‘I am sure she knows you would if you could. Have you any other relatives in Poland?’

‘My parents live in Białystok – that’s occupied by the Soviets now. I have no idea what has happened to them. And I have an older brother, Jozef. He is in the cavalry and I haven’t heard from him since the war started. He might be dead. They all might be dead.’ His voice caught as he said this and she was afraid he was going to cry, but he pulled himself together suddenly. ‘What about you? Are you married?’

‘No, but I am engaged. Tony is in the air force, like you. He is doing his flying training.’ Afraid that he was going to ask where Tony was, and remembering all the posters that told everyone careless talk costs lives, she added, ‘He gets moved around a lot. I don’t always know where he is, but at least he’s in the same country as me and we can write to each other.’

‘Do you like writing letters?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. I haven’t really thought about it. It’s just something I do.’

‘Would you write to me? Just now and again, just so I have …’ He paused, searching for a word. ‘An anchor.’

She felt truly sorry for him; he was in a strange country, not always welcome, his wife was thousands of miles away under Nazi tyranny, how could she refuse him? ‘Yes, if you like.’

He beamed with pleasure, tore the corner off a discarded newspaper, wrote his address on it and handed it to her. ‘Now, you give me yours. If I am moved, I shall write and tell you.’

She complied and they left the canteen together and made for the Underground, where they parted, she to go to Edgware, he to cross London and take another train to Tangmere.

Louise sat in the crowded underground train, musing on the encounter. There were people all over Europe suffering a great deal more than those in Britain. She could not imagine what it would be like to be occupied by a foreign army, nor the emotional upheaval of being parted from loved ones as Jan Grabowski had been from his Rulka. Not to know if she was alive or dead must be a terrible thing to live with. She hoped he would hear from her soon and in the meantime she would write to him, try to cheer him up, let him know he was not forgotten.