Churchill’s Angels (32 page)

‘You can’t bury the lad without ’is friends around him. There’s Wing Commander Sapenak, and what about ’is lordship, he’ll want to be here even if just for form’s sake. They hardly ever saw each other but they was cousins, and there’s Daisy. Daisy Petrie. You can find her. She’s a WAAF. Lad was teaching her to fly.’

In the end, only Tomas and Alf attended the interment. Alf was angry but Tomas calmed him.

‘I told Daisy, Alf, and it’s impossible for her to come, or Adair’s cousin – he’s in North Africa. Had we buried him in a military cemetery he would have had a guard of honour, but it is right that he should lie here; his mother is here. The entire squadron mourns, old friend.’

‘How was the lass?’

‘She loved him very much, I think, but she is strong and will find a way to deal. You too.’

‘He were like a son to us. I think my Nancy pretended he were hers when she was making him a pie. Don’t really know how us’ll cope.’

‘I knew him for so little time, Alf. But he was a special person. And now I must return.’ Tomas shook hands with Alf and turned to leave.

Alf watched him walk down the driveway to a waiting car. ‘You know where we are, lad, when you need a cuppa or a bed for the night.’

Tomas did not look back but he lifted his hand in acknowledgement.

‘You have done extremely well, Aircraftswoman Petrie.’ The commander shook Daisy’s hand. ‘Any air base will be delighted to have you. Good luck.’

‘Thank you, sir.’ Daisy saluted Group Captain Lamb and stepped back smartly.

She was a fully trained aircraft mechanic and had papers that proved it. For the first time in weeks her spirits lifted as she thought how proud her parents would be. Her case was packed, her gifts from Charlie, which she would take with her to every posting, wrapped carefully in her pyjamas in case they were thrown around on the train. She waved to Joan and Maggie, who were waiting for her, and hurried to meet them. Both had passed well and had already been given their postings. Now, like Daisy, they were heading home for ten days’ leave. By now they knew of Adair’s death but, after the first shocked expressions of grief, they had agreed with Daisy that no one talk about it.

‘Did his nibs say anything about your posting, Daisy?’

‘No, just that any base would be happy to have me. Sounds like it, doesn’t it?’

‘They’re fighting over you, that’s what’s happening.’

To Daisy’s surprise, her friends suddenly pulled themselves up and saluted.

‘At ease, ladies.’

‘Tomas, what are you doing here? Sorry, sir, I mean Wing Commander Sapenak.’

‘Just friends today, Daisy.’ He shook hands with each of the girls, introducing himself as he did so. ‘Daisy and I are old friends,’ he explained, and then he turned back to Daisy. ‘I tried to get here in time for the parade but last night was busy. Now, if you don’t have plans with these other friends …’

‘We’re just off, sir, rushing for a train. ’Bye, Daisy, don’t forget to write.’

There was a moment of silence once Joan and Maggie had hurried off.

‘It is good to have friends, Daisy. I had hoped, as I said, to be here earlier, but I would like to take you to lunch, perhaps on the way to London.’

‘London?’

‘You go first to London, yes?’

She nodded.

‘And I have business in London and hoped to drive you to the Dartford train on my way. Unfortunately I cannot take you home.’

Thank God for that, thought Daisy. She could not begin to think what the neighbours would say if they saw her arriving home with an officer in RAF uniform. And as for her parents … ‘You’re very kind, Tomas, but I can easily catch a train.’

‘I assure you I did not arrange the London meeting, Daisy. I am only a small cog in a very big wheel.’

She looked up into his face and saw new marks of sadness there. She knew nothing about this man, except that he had come to Britain from Czechoslovakia to fly fighter missions against their mutual enemy, that the governments of both countries had decorated him – and that Adair Maxwell had called him friend.

With eyes sparkling with tears, she smiled at him. ‘Lunch and a lift to London would be lovely.’

They stopped at a country pub where the landlord apologised profusely for the poor selection he was able to offer them. ‘In a month or two we’ll have some game birds, sir, delicious.’ He sighed. ‘And later, venison, but today all I have is chicken, mutton or rabbit. Hoped I might have a nice trout but, afraid not.’

Tomas was tired of rabbit and so they ordered mutton stew, which was served with beautifully prepared vegetables. Tomas looked at them in some awe.

‘No boiled cabbage, and in fact nothing is boiled to death. We must remember this Buckinghamshire pub, Daisy.’

They drank cider with the meal and laughed as Daisy told Tomas that the chicken would probably have been an old hen.

‘They can say mutton without shame. What is wrong to say old hen?’

‘In English, mutton sounds better than old hen.’

The chatter was light and the smell of freshly mown grass from an open window competed with the odours of beautifully cooked food. Daisy felt relaxed and, if not happy, at least she had found some sort of peace. The months ahead would not be easy but she knew that she was trained and capable. She would so much have liked to tell Adair how well she had done.

She had to stop thinking of Adair. Tonight she would be at home and soon the letter would come telling her where she was to be stationed.

Tomas dropped her off at her London station and she was delighted to find that a train that stopped at Dartford was leaving in a few minutes.

She had not told her parents the time of her arrival and so she knew there would be no one to meet her, but she was quite happy to walk from the station. Ten days at home, plenty of time to catch up with friends. The train was crowded but she was content to stand outside a carriage in the corridor, gazing out of the window. There was evidence of intense bombing everywhere, reinforcing her awareness of just how dangerous and difficult life had been in this pleasant corner of England.

I’m a mechanic now, she told the gaping holes and empty buildings. We’ll help keep our pilots flying to protect us. Just you wait and see.

At Dartford she was passing the waiting room when a railway employee came out of it, glanced at her, walked a few steps and then stopped and came back. ‘Sorry to startle you, miss, but is you the WAAF as was here in March when we ’ad the air raid?’

There must have been scores of girls in uniform passing through the station, Daisy thought, but she told him that yes, she had come home on leave in March.

‘Just that there’s a little suitcase in Lost and Found, miss, and the gentleman as ’anded it in said as how a pretty little WAAF with shiny brown hair had dropped it in the fuss but he couldn’t see her anywhere to give it to her.’

Her suitcase. Miss Partridge’s dress. Oh, surely not after all this time.

‘I did lose a suitcase, has the most beautiful dress in it.’

‘You won’t want to lose a pretty frock, not with clothing coupons as scarce as they are.’

It was a very happy girl who walked home that evening, a suitcase in each hand.

Fred was in the act of cleaning the shop window when he looked up and saw his daughter coming slowly along the street. He dropped the duster and ran out, regardless of who saw him. ‘Daisy, love, you should have told us and I’d have fetched you. Oh, your mum will be that glad to see you, and our Rose an’ all.’

He took both suitcases and hurried her along, firing questions as they went. ‘Two suitcases. Why didn’t you take a taxi? Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have been at the station.’

‘I know, but I didn’t have two suitcases when I got on the train; this one’s been in Dartford Lost and Found all this time. And I wouldn’t waste money on a taxi, if I could have found one, petrol being scarce as it is, because I’ve got lovely comfy leather shoes.’ She laughed and tucked one hand into his arm. ‘How’s everything?’

Since they had already arrived at the shop Fred didn’t answer. He closed the door behind them and locked it. Then he walked to the foot of the staircase and called up, ‘I’ve somebody here wanting a cuppa, Flora, anything doing?’

A few minutes later a slightly flustered Flora was at the top of the stairs seeing one of her children walking upstairs.

‘Hello, Mum, ten days’ leave. Today was passing out parade.’

Naturally she had to explain what ‘passing out’ meant and then had to take off her handbag from where she’d strung it across her body, having no free hand because of finding the lost suitcase. In her handbag were her papers that showed that Aircraftswoman Petrie Daisy was now a mechanic, first class.

‘Oh, we’re that proud of you, and just wait till Rose hears, and our Phil.’

Fred explained that letters from Phil were few and far between. ‘We hadn’t heard a peep since he left after Christmas and then your mum gets four all at once just two weeks ago. Very confusing since we didn’t know which one to open first. First letter says the new ship is the last word and the next one says he hoped they’d soon transfer to their new ship. He’s been in Malta, would you believe, but they couldn’t go ashore. They was just delivering supplies and I think something happened to the ship there and that’s why they needed a new one. Malta’s had a battering, and no supplies getting through. But you can read them later. Now have a nice cuppa while we wait for Rose. Tell us all about where you go next and then we’ll let Rose tell her news.’

‘She’s not marrying Stan?’ asked Daisy as she accepted a cup from her mother. To her horror, Flora burst into tears.

Fred and his daughter tried to soothe and comfort her but Flora was too upset. They held her and let her cry until she hiccuped to a halt.

‘Drink your tea, Mum. You’ll feel better.’

Flora found her handkerchief in her apron pocket, wiped her wet cheeks, and then blew her nose somewhat ferociously. ‘Why would I be worried about Stan? It’s you I’m worried about.’

Daisy had not the slightest idea what her mother meant. She could not know about Adair, could she?

‘Great, here’s Rose,’ she said in excitement, and began to run downstairs.

‘No, Daisy, don’t hug me,’ said Rose. I’m filthy. We had a bit of a fire; I’m covered in smoke and stink to high heaven. Mum, Dad, see you in a minute.’ She disappeared into the bathroom and Daisy returned to the kitchen.

‘A fire? In a munitions factory? Who’d credit it?’

‘She’s OK?’ asked Flora, getting to her feet.

‘Just needs a bath, Mum. Know what’s the best thing about the WAAF? Showers. Next base might not even have hot water; some have—’ She stopped as a look of distress had crossed Flora’s face. ‘What is it, Mum? Rose’s fine.’

‘Oh, Daisy, love, Alf told us. He said you was upset.’

So that was what had made her cry. Not Rose and whatever her news was, but Adair. She closed her eyes for a second. She should have known she would have to talk about … about Adair’s death. But how could she without losing control herself?’

She took a deep breath. ‘Right, let’s talk about this once and then it’s over, Mum, over.’ Could she tell them the absolute truth, tell of the wonder of falling in love and the greater wonder of having that love returned? If they discovered the real tragedy, they would weep more. She tried to smile. ‘Adair, my friend, a very special friend, was shot down and killed. He’s buried in the crypt at The Old Manor because the house belongs to his family. But Alf hasn’t seen me, I wasn’t there, and so he shouldn’t have said anything to you about me. I lost another friend. Now I’m going to change out of my uniform and we won’t talk about it any more.’

She did not wait for an answer from either parent but as she walked away she heard Flora say, ‘She’s bottling it all up inside, Fred, and that’s not good.’

In the small bedroom that she had shared with Rose for eighteen years, Daisy took off her blue uniform and hung it up in the wardrobe. Then she found her old dressing gown, put it on and lay down on her bed with her eyes closed. Sam missing, Ron dead, Charlie dead, Adair dead. What good would crying do? It could not bring the dead to life again.

‘Daisy.’ Rose had come back in. ‘Super to see you. Heavens, it’s months. Sorry about your friend.’

She could not talk, even to Rose, the sister who had shared every secret of her life, her other half. She had a feeling that once started, talking or weeping, she would never stop. She sat up and watched Rose brush her lovely hair and smiled as she remembered how she had envied her sister’s golden curls. ‘Mum says you have news. I thought she meant that you were getting married.’

‘Married? What an awful thought. No, I’ve finally applied to the ATS. We’re army really, and there’s lots of jobs, everything from cooking and cleaning, which I will not do, all the way up to driving lorries and even staff cars, you know, for senior officers and the like. Just think, Daisy, what if I was to drive Mr Churchill? Would Dad ever come off the ceiling?’

‘He’d be the proudest man in England, Rose. It does sound fantastic.’ Daisy remembered the driver who had driven Tomas – a man, and in air force uniform, but she said nothing. After all, maybe each service had its own rules.

‘I had to get permission, and Mum didn’t want Dad to sign, but I said if he didn’t I’d run off to London or somewhere and get a job in a garage till I was older.’ She saw the expression on Daisy’s face and laughed. ‘I could get a job in a garage, Daisy, because I’m good and I’m not exactly what you’d call a delicate little flower, am I? And Daze, it’s easier now. Two years ago, there was lots of men. There aren’t so many available now, so …’ She stopped as tears of unbearable grief began to run silently down Daisy’s face. Rose got onto the bed beside her, held her sister in her arms and they stayed there until much later, when Flora tentatively called them for supper.

A letter from Grace was sent on from Halton and Daisy answered it, explaining that she had no idea where she was to be posted now that she had finished her training. To Grace’s request for news of Sam, she was able to say nothing but did pass on the Red Cross address in Geneva and, of course, told her friend that if any news was received, Grace would be informed. Apart from her concern over Sam’s wellbeing, Grace had written of little except the pleasure she felt at being outdoors in lovely weather watching much-needed food grow.