Soldier Girl (7 page)

‘Is there no one to carry our luggage?’ a high, nasal voice asked, among all the other mutterings of uncertainty. The tone was tentative, without the braying confidence of some of the others. Molly turned, intrigued, to see an unusual-looking girl with wisps of blonde hair blowing about her face. She was tall, thin and lanky, and had a wide mouth and a large, beak-like nose. She also looked pale and exhausted.

‘You’ll be lucky,’ someone else retorted. ‘This isn’t a holiday camp, you know!’

‘You’re telling me,’ another voice chipped in, and there was a brief ripple of laughter.

‘Hello – who’s this?’

A dumpy yet commanding-looking figure was striding towards the group. She planted her rather solid body before them, clicked her feet together in their shiny black shoes and looked them all over with darting brown eyes, not noticeably impressed by what was in front of her. Dark, wavy hair was visible under her ATS cap and Molly saw a tough, intelligent-looking face. Her heart beat faster. There was something about this alien creature that she found challenging; she also had a natural authority which invited respect. To Molly’s surprise she realized that the woman was not very much older than the rest of them, but she looked completely in command, and tough as old boots.

In a booming voice the woman welcomed them and introduced herself as Lance Corporal Phoebe Morrison. ‘Right – well, it’s no good all of you standing here out in this weather. We’ve got to get you kitted out – but the first thing I’m going to do is show you your billets. Get into threes – that’s how we do things around here – quickly now, no, threes, not fives, you numbskulls! In line, quick march!’

Molly found herself beside a small, wiry little person who she’d hardly noticed up until now. The girl was very young-looking and the ancient carpet bag holding her possessions looked almost too big for her to carry. She had her hair plaited and coiled round her ears in a quaintly old-fashioned style and strange, bulging blue eyes. She reminded Molly of an insect. As they marched towards the huts, the girl turned to Molly, gave her a wink, and through adenoids, in broad Black Country, said, ‘Well, I down’t much like the look of ’er, do yow?’

For the first time that day Molly laughed with relief.

‘She looks like summat you’d fire out of a cannon, don’t ’er?’ she replied, far too loudly. She heard the girl on her left, who had a head of wild red hair, splutter with laughter, and there were titters from among the others. Their corporal bawled, at astonishing volume, ‘No talking back there!’

The girls made wry faces at each other.

‘Where’re yow from then – Brum?’ the girl asked. She had a twitchy way of talking, as if someone was intermittently pricking her with a pin.

‘Right first time – what about you?’

‘Walsall. I thought anything’d be better than the factory. Our mom says I’ll never stick it out. “They’ll eat you up on toast,”’er said. But that’s ’cus ’er down’t want me to go.’

‘Halt!’ Corporal Morrison roared, causing them to come to a ragged standstill outside a hut. ‘This is Hut F. Right – first twelve of you in there!’

Molly and the Walsall girl, who said her name was Lena, and the redhead were first in line for the second billet, Hut J, and found themselves leading the way right to the far end. Molly and Lena took the corner beds – or what passed as beds, because none of the black metal bedsteads even had mattresses or any bedding whatsoever. All the hut contained otherwise was grey lino on the floor and an unlit stove in the middle.

Molly put her case on the floor and perched on the edge of the metal frame, still in her coat. It felt even colder inside than out and their breath was visible on the air. If only she’d chosen a bed closer to the stove! Lena seemed to be muttering to herself, searching for something in her bag. Molly perched on the cold edge of the bed and blew her nose again, wondering what would happen next. The redhead, who had the bed next to hers, threw her bag onto the springs and grinned across at her.

‘Dear God, they said it’d be basic! Would you not think they’d at least give us a little bit of straw or something to lie on? Even a cow in a barn’d expect that much!’ The girl was Irish. She flumped down backwards and the springs screeched with surprise, making both of them laugh. She had dancing blue eyes and a healthy look to her cheeks that said she was someone who had spent her life in the open air. With that and her curling red hair and upturned nose, Molly saw that she was very pretty. ‘Well, hello,’ she continued, sitting up. ‘Looks like we’re going to be lying here side by side then.’

She said it with a measure of impishness that put Molly at her ease and made her smile.

‘Looks like it,’ Molly said, full of relief. At least Lena and this girl seemed more her type. The blonde beaky one seemed to be muttering and complaining in a distracted sort of way a couple of beds away. ‘What’s yer name?’

‘Oh – I’m Cathleen Maguire – just call me Cath. And you?’

‘Molly – Fox.’

‘Lovely to meet you, Molly.’

‘That’s Lena over there.’

Lena looked up from rooting about in her bag and then came over, grinning. Molly was struck again by how tiny and frail she looked.

‘D’you say yow’re called Cath?’

‘That’s me,’ Cath twinkled.

‘Where yow from then?’

‘Well, Ireland, as you can hear. Near Waterford, which is down in the south, in case you don’t know. But I came over to Birmingham for work first. To be honest with you, factory work wasn’t for me, not after growing up on the farm. So I’ve joined up instead.’

‘Down’t blame yer,’ Lena said. ‘Must be nice, living on a farm.’

‘Ah, it’s all right. But you want to get out, you know? Get away and see some life before it’s all over! So I jumped on the boat.’

Molly watched her with admiration. It seemed a huge step to her, crossing the sea and being so far from home.

As they talked, Molly began to feel a bit better. There was a hubbub of chatter along the hut and they both looked around to take in who else was with them. In the next bed to Cath was the tall, beaky-nosed blonde. Over the other side, with a shock, she recognized Ruth, who had been on the train, but she was relieved to see that there was no sign of the overbearing Marguerite. Ruth was talking to a girl with her dark hair cut in a bob who had her back to them. Other girls were chattering along the rows of beds, everyone wondering what next and where on earth was the bedding and when were they going to get a cup of tea?

However, the blonde girl next to Cath was sitting bolt upright on the edge of her bed not joining in the hubbub. She looked very distracted and upset.

‘She doesn’t look too happy,’ Cath said in her easy way. I’d better go and say hello.’

Walking round the bed, she went to the tall girl and held out her hand. ‘Hello there – we’re neighbours. My name’s Cath.’

The girl looked up with stricken eyes, as if she’d been brought back from some faraway dream. Eventually it dawned on her to take Cath’s hand.

‘Oh – I’m Honor. Honor Carruthers.’ Molly and Lena exchanged smirks at the sound of her posh, peculiar voice. ‘How d’you do?’

‘I’m doing all right,’ Cath said in her easy way.

‘Really?’ Honor said, seeming appalled by everything around her. ‘I – I didn’t know . . . I had no idea it would be so perfectly
awful
. . .’

‘Ah well,’ Lena called across to her. ‘Bit late now, ain’t it? We’re here and we’re all gunna ’ave to get used to it.’ She looked across at Molly and rolled her eyes.

‘But I . . .’ the girl started to say, but it was drowned out by Corporal Morrison’s voice booming at the door, ‘Right – outside in threes, quick sharp!’

As they milled out of the hut Molly found herself close to Ruth. Seeing who was beside her, Ruth glanced at her, then turned away, a thick blush rising in her cheeks, and moved right away from Molly as fast as she could. Stung, Molly stared after her.

Right,
she thought,
I can see how it’s going to be with you, you stuck-up little bitch!

The occupants of Hut J were obviously a very mixed crew and Molly was grateful that her nearest neighbours were Lena and Cath. Imagine if she had to deal with one of those posh cows who had beds further along, with their bossy, cut-glass voices!

Outside, the snow had turned to a sleety rain, but this didn’t seem to make any difference to proceedings. The twelve of them stood like lambs ready for the slaughter, hands raw in the cold, freezing droplets trickling down the backs of their necks, waiting to be told what to do.

‘Squad! Move to the right in threes! Quick march – left, right, left, right . . . Right wheel. . .’

‘Holy Mother!’ Cath was already giggling at trying to set off on the right leg, or was it the left? The turn caused quite a few of them to bump into one another and there was much giggling and confusion. She and Molly seemed to set each other off and before they’d gone far, they were almost helpless with laughter.

‘Quiet!’ Corporal Morrison turned on them, glowering. She left the front and walked round to give Molly and Cath a particularly fierce scowl. ‘We can take as long as you like over this. D’you want to stand out here all afternoon?’

Some of the others were shushing them, annoyed. Molly and Cath just managed to stifle their giggles. It was quite some time before there were two orderly lines of six at the back of the hut.

‘That hut to your left is where you will find the latrines. You first six – quick march – you have one minute each!’

Molly found herself marching full speed, with Lena, Cath, Honor, Ruth and another quiet girl, to the latrines. Honor, who was detailed to go into the primitive toilet next to hers, made a gagging sound of horror. Molly thought it didn’t look too bad compared with some in the yards where she’d lived, and she was used to people banging impatiently on the door demanding that she come out. Even so, one minute was a bit steep. She did her business as fast as she could and pulled the door open.

‘Ah – at least someone can obey orders!’ Corporal Morrison barked. Molly blushed, surprisingly gratified at having done something right for once in her life. Other doors were yanked open by the nervous, eager-to-please ATS recruits – all except one, next to the toilet where Molly had been.

‘Right – come along!’ The corporal barged her way into the cubicle. ‘Out you come – you’ve gone over the minute.’

From inside they heard the girl’s high voice protesting miserably, ‘But I can’t go any faster! I’m not feeling well. I’ve got my . . .’ Her voice lowered to an embarrassed murmur. If she was hoping for any fellow feeling from Corporal Morrison, it was not forthcoming.

‘I said one minute, not three! Get yourself out there! You’re in the army now, not your boudoir!’

Molly felt sorry for her, but also scornful. She was going to have to harden up, that one was.

‘Blimey,’ Lena tutted lugubriously. Molly wasn’t sure if she was expressing sympathy or scorn for Honor.

They waited for what seemed another agonizingly long minute and at last Honor left the latrine, shoulders hunched, her face red with mortification. She was obviously very close to tears.

‘I haven’t washed my hands,’ she wailed.

‘This is latrine parade, not ablutions parade! When it’s ablutions parade, I’ll tell you! Is that clear? Now – left wheel, quick march!’

The first stop was for bedding – three ‘biscuits’, or straw sections, of mattress. They were ordered to carry these to their beds and return for the rest of the bedding allocation: three blankets, two pillows, two sheets, two pillowslips.

Next, it was clothing. Some of the girls had lapsed into silence out of pure exhaustion at the newness of it all. Others were full of ribald comments, often to cover their awkwardness. When they were issued with thick sanitary towels and a belt, Molly and Lena stared at them in embarrassed confusion, not liking to admit they’d never seen any before. Old, washed-out rags were all Molly had ever known. They both got the giggles.

‘I’ve always wanted summat big between my legs,’ Molly remarked loudly, which made some of the others tut at them.

Then, in the clothing store, to stash into their kitbag they were issued with every bit of clothing they could have imagined and more, down to bras and suspender belts, gloves and overalls, and as well as everyday army clothing, there were gym shoes and a hairbrush, cutlery and a mending kit called a housewife, or ‘hussif’.

‘Blimey – how big do they think I am?’ Lena held up a dreadnought of a brassiere against her bony little chest. She and Molly laughed raucously, trying the suspender belts against themselves and holding up the massive pairs of khaki underpants.

‘God, you’ll both be irresistible in those,’ Cath said.

‘They’ll take some getting off!’ Molly cackled loudly. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Ruth and the other dark-haired girl staring at her in horror. Oh, so disapproving! She waved the underpants in their direction. ‘Don’t worry, ladies – no one’ll get at you in these!’

Lena and Cath laughed, but once again Ruth and the other girl turned away, disgusted.

‘Ooh, look at them,’ Lena whispered. ‘Poker-faced pair they are, ain’t they?’

The group of girls was already breaking up into factions, and the more Molly, Lena and a couple of allies – Cath and another two girls called Doris and Mary – poked fun and came out with increasingly ribald remarks, the more frosty their reception became from the rest of the girls in their hut. The sense of their disapproval and superiority made Molly feel all the more like being loud and showing them she didn’t care what they thought.