Far From Home (24 page)

The wind had got up during the afternoon, the clouds thickening, the promised rain coming down like stair-rods. It was barely seven o’clock, but the night was drawing in fast. Danuta and the others stood shivering on the steps as they waved their last goodbyes and watched them hurry through the downpour and out of sight.

‘God bless,’ whispered Peggy through her fingers as the tears filled her eyes. ‘Keep them safe.’

‘Now, Peg, don’t be getting over-emotional,’ said Jim gruffly, putting his arm over her shoulder. ‘Those boys will come through just fine without your tears.’ He drew her back into the house and sat her down by the range where the coals glowed warmly. ‘Let’s sit awhile and enjoy the fire now we have some coal to burn,’ he murmured. ‘I have to be on warden duty in half an hour.’

Danuta wandered into the dining room and found
Cissy
curled up in a chair and looking sullen as she fiddled with a cigarette packet. The Aussies had given each of them a pack, which was a real treat, even though Danuta and Cissy rarely smoked. ‘You can go dancing another time,’ she said softly.

‘I know, but it would have been nice to dance with Joe again.’ She fell silent, her gaze wistful. ‘I wish he wasn’t leaving so soon,’ she said finally.

Danuta picked up her cardigan and slung it over her shoulders. ‘I think June will be disappointed too,’ she said carefully. ‘It will be nice for them to have these last few days together before they are parted.’

Cissy gave a deep sigh. ‘I suppose so, but I wish …’

‘If wishes were pots and pans, we’d all be tinkers,’ said Ron cheerfully. ‘Either of you two feel like walking off that lunch?’

‘With this ankle?’ Cissy eyed him balefully. ‘And it’s raining.’

‘The ankle didn’t stop you bouncing about earlier,’ he replied, the twinkle in his eye belying the soft reprimand. ‘And a bit of fresh air might do you some good after lounging about the house all week.’

Cissy looked mutinous as she snatched up her cardigan. ‘I’m going to my room,’ she muttered, and hobbled rather dramatically into the hallway.

‘I’ll come with you, Ron,’ murmured Danuta. ‘Just give me time to get changed, please?’

‘Right you are. I’ll be in the basement.’

Danuta hurried upstairs, carefully hung her dress and cardigan in the wardrobe and changed into her baggy old trousers, sweater and sturdy shoes. Covering everything with her raincoat, she slipped the packet of Australian cigarettes and a box of matches into her trouser pocket and hurried downstairs.

‘I’m going out with Ron,’ she told Peggy and Jim, who were sipping tea by the range and listening to a music programme on the wireless. ‘I don’t expect we’ll be too late.’

‘God help us,’ sighed Jim. ‘The auld fella never sits still. You shouldn’t encourage him, Danuta.’

Danuta shrugged. ‘I like to walk with him,’ she said simply, and then ran down the steps to the cellar.

‘I’ve found you some wellington boots. They should fit,’ said Ron gruffly. He waited for her to try them on and nodded with satisfaction as she grinned back at him in delight. ‘Here, lass, ye’ll be soaked through in that t’ing,’ he said, handing her one of his older poaching coats. ‘Put this on, and ye’ll be as dry as a bone.’

Danuta carefully hung her lovely raincoat on the peg behind the back door and wrestled into Ron’s coat. It was heavy and reached to her ankles, and there was a funny odour clinging to it. ‘What is this smell?’ she asked, wrinkling her nose as she did up the buttons.

‘That’ll be me ferrets,’ muttered Ron.

Danuta would have liked to ask him what a ferret was, but Ron was already stomping down the garden path and she almost had to run to catch up with him.

With Harvey loping ahead of them, they tramped along the alleyway between the backs of the houses and began to climb the steep track that would finally lead to the brow of the hills that formed a protective embrace between Cliffehaven and the rest of the county.

As usual, they didn’t speak until they reached the top, and then they stood in companionable silence in the lee of a small copse of trees and waited for their hearts to stop racing. It was dark now, the rain still coming down hard.

Danuta’s hair was plastered to her head and dripping coldly down her neck, but she didn’t mind a bit. She loved being up here at night with Ron – enjoyed the freedom and the sense that they were alone in the world with only the scent of grass, earth and sea to accompany them. It was a world away from the hospital laundry – and another world away from the cobbled streets and poor, crowded tenements she’d known in Warsaw.

‘Sure, and I should have asked them Aussie boys if they had a few of those hats spare,’ muttered Ron. ‘They’d be ideal to keep off the rain, so they would.’

He shoved his unlit pipe in his pocket and pulled out a powerful torch. ‘Let’s see if we can find a few rabbits,’ he said. ‘But we won’t be using the nets tonight, it’s too dark, so I hope you aren’t squeamish.’

Danuta shook her head. She’d seen enough death not to worry over the demise of a few rabbits.

‘This is called “lamping”,’ Ron explained, ‘and it’s highly illegal in this country, so keep an eye out for rangers – though what they’d be doing up here on such a night, I wouldn’t know,’ he added.

Danuta walked beside him, chin tucked into the neck of her coat, hands buried deep in the pockets as Harvey raced back and forth, nose to ground, and the torchlight beam wavered over the grass and hillocks.

‘There we are,’ murmured Ron, coming to a standstill. ‘A nice fat bunny for the pot.’ He kept the beam on the startled rabbit which seemed frozen to the spot. ‘Go, Harvey,’ he whispered.

Harvey took off like a rocket.

The rabbit broke from its trance and began to race away, darting back and forth in a desperate attempt to shake off its pursuer and reach the safety of its burrow beneath the trees.

Ron kept the beam on the rabbit, jiggling it back and forth to confuse the creature as Harvey closed in. With one swift pounce, the rabbit was captured, and Harvey carried it proudly back to Ron, who finished it off by wringing its neck.

The dog wriggled his eyebrows, tongue lolling as he waited for Ron’s pat on the head, and once Ron had secreted the rabbit in one of his many pockets, Harvey received his reward along with a bit of biscuit.

The rain stopped some time later as they tramped over the hills beneath a sky of scudding clouds which raced over the slither of moon. The great silence was broken only by the owls which hooted in the trees, the occasional, distant shriek of a vixen, and the rustle of the wind in the grass. It was awesome, that silence, and Danuta felt as if she was treading in the footprints of the ancient men of England as Ron led her further and further into the great open spaces that lay north of Cliffehaven.

Harvey and Ron had now caught five rabbits and, having decided there were enough for a decent stew, Ron led Danuta down into a valley to a stone building she hadn’t noticed before. It was tucked away in a thicket of trees, and almost buried in gorse and brambles. There was a sturdy door with an even sturdier lock attached to it, and there was no way of seeing inside, for there were no windows.

‘This was an old shepherd’s hut before the war,’ he explained, as he settled on a fallen log and got his pipe going. ‘There used to be a farm here, but the army commandeered it, and the farmer, Bill Watson, was given the option of relocating to another farm in Scotland, or moving into a bungalow somewhere near Worthing.’

He puffed contentedly on his pipe, his eyes distant with memory. ‘Bill was a man of the land through and through. He would have rather died than move to Worthing.’

‘But it is very far to Scotland, I think?’

He nodded. ‘That it is, lass, but for a man like Bill it was the only solution. Him, his wife and their three kids, along with two farmhands and their families, loaded everything they possessed on to two wagons and herded those cows right through the middle of Cliffehaven to the station.’

He chuckled. ‘It was quite a sight, I can tell you, seeing those lovely old Shires pulling those wagons, and Bill sitting proud on his cob. There was not a soul in Cliffehaven who didn’t come to see them off. We all thought the circus had come to town, so we did.’

Danuta could imagine the scene, but she was still puzzled. ‘But what did the army want with this place?’

‘See over there?’ He pointed the beam of his torch towards the valley, illuminating a tumble-down wreck of a place surrounded by equally dilapidated barns and outbuildings. ‘That was once a fine farmhouse, two labourers’ cottages and three barns. The army used it to train the gunners, and look at it now. Poor old Bill – I hope he never comes back to see it. He was mighty proud of his farm, so he was.’

‘But they have not used this building for target practice,’ said Danuta. ‘Why is that, do you think?’

‘Well now,’ Ron said, shifting himself into a more comfortable position, ‘that’s because it has other uses.’ He regarded her steadily for a moment as if considering what he should say next.

‘Go on,’ she prompted.

‘To the inquisitive, it is an emergency food store, so it is,’ he muttered, ‘but to those in the know it is far more important.’ He fiddled with his pipe for a while and then looked at her from under his bushy brows. ‘You have told me something of your journey from Warsaw to Cliffehaven, Danuta, and trusted me with the secrets you’ve carried along the way. What I’m about to tell you is closely guarded by those at the very top of our government. Can I trust you?’

Danuta was intrigued. ‘You can trust me,’ she said evenly.

He held her gaze for a long moment before speaking. ‘Then I will tell you a story,’ he said. He puffed on his pipe for a moment, his gaze fixed to a distant spot in the darkness.

‘When France fell in May this year, there was – and still is – a very real threat of Hitler invading our island. Winston Churchill ordered a Colonel Gubbins to create a force of civilian volunteers, recruited primarily from the ablest Home Guard personnel. These recruits were to be trained to operate from secret underground bases located behind the enemy lines of occupation. In other words, they were to be our secret line of defence against enemy invasion.’

Danuta felt for the packet of cigarettes in her trouser pocket and lit one. She had an idea where this was going, and strangely was not at all surprised, for Ron had always struck her as being a man with a secret.

‘Initially, these men were set up in patrols of six to eight men, led by a sergeant and co-ordinated by a local commander, usually a captain or lieutenant. Ideal recruits are countrymen, farmers, foresters, gamekeepers,’ he grinned, ‘and old poachers like me.’ He smoked his pipe and stared into the night. ‘I had experience of sabotage in the last war, and although some might say I’m past it, I know enough to teach the young ones a trick or two.’

Danuta watched the smoke from her cigarette curl away. ‘So,’ she murmured, ‘you are part of a secret army, but you wear the uniform of the Home Guard.’ She grinned. ‘Is that why you keep going away? Peggy thinks you are with Rosie at the pub.’

‘I wish I was with Rosie, but she and I don’t have that kind of friendship,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘I’m away helping to train the latest recruits, or sitting it out in one of the operational bases which are hidden all along the coast.’ He patted the solid wall behind him. ‘This is an arsenal,’ he said, ‘but the base is hidden well away from here.’

He must have noted her frown, for he carried on, ‘I can’t tell you much more about what I do, Danuta. As I said, it is top secret. But the special reserve battalions are now spread all across England. If we are invaded by the Hun, then we will carry out sabotage: target supply dumps, railway lines, convoys and enemy occupied airfields. We won’t let them take our land without a fight, so we won’t.’

Danuta stamped out the cigarette, and through force of habit, put the butt in her coat pocket. She rarely smoked anyway, and tonight it was making her feel a little nauseous. ‘I know how it feels to have your country invaded, Ron, but why do you tell me this top secret?’ she asked quietly.

‘Because of what you’ve been through, and what you just did,’ he replied. ‘Not many people would think of taking their fag ends with them.’ His gaze was steady beneath his thick brows. ‘You have experience and skills that are sorely needed, Danuta. I told you that tale tonight because I think you would be the ideal recruit for Special Duties.’

She returned his steady gaze, but her pulse was racing at the thought of actually doing something useful and challenging again. ‘And what would these Special Duties involve?’

‘It would be a secret recruitment, so you could tell no one,’ he replied. ‘You would be trained to provide intelligence gathering, spying on and observing enemy formations and troop movements. It would mean leaving here to be trained in field-craft, sabotage, codes, telegraphs and unarmed combat. And then you would go through an intensive course to make sure your German and French were good enough to pass as a local. You will go through long, and probably harrowing, interrogation sessions to measure your ability to withstand such things, and ultimately, I suspect, you would be parachuted into enemy territory.’

Danuta’s heart was hammering. ‘I would love to do this,’ she breathed. ‘I know already about sabotage, silent executions, and guerrilla fighting, and my languages have already proven good enough to let me pass as German or French.’