The Bomb Girls (25 page)

‘Joes?'

‘Spies, Special Ops.'

Emily didn't say she already knew that.

Fed up with stomping over the moors, Rodney about-turned.

‘I've had enough of this bloody nonsense!' he swore as he headed back down the hill, tripping and stumbling over tufts of ragged heather.

Driving back in his MG, with the hood down and the wind whistling around them, it was, mercifully, impossible to make any conversation. Rodney screeched to an abrupt halt at the digs then he leaped out and unceremoniously threw open the door for Emily.

‘It's perfectly clear you've had enough of me,' he said peevishly. ‘I'll go back to my hotel.'

Edging out of the car, Emily struggled for something to say.

‘Is the Station Hotel comfortable?' she asked.

He scowled like a spoiled little boy as he barked a reply.

‘Absolutely not up to scratch!'

Emily fell through the door of the digs and collapsed on the sofa.

‘What a disaster!' she cried as her friends gathered round and questioned her. ‘He tried it on with me on the moors,' she said as she burst out laughing.

‘You must've led him on when you went gallivanting in London,' Lillian said knowingly.

‘I told you, I was tipsy on champagne but I never said I fancied him!' Emily replied honestly. ‘And I definitely didn't!' she added with a grin.

‘You'd have to be drunk to pick up a plonker like Rodders,' Lillian scoffed.

Emily groaned as she buried her head under a cushion.

‘What am I going to do with him tomorrow?' she wailed.

Daphne popped a cigarette into her long holder and languidly lit up.

‘I'll take him off your hands, darling,' she said.

Emily gaped at her.

‘Are you serious, Daf?'

Daphne nodded as she took a long drag on her cigarette.

‘Not a problem. I'm used to his sort!'

The next morning Rodney roared up to the digs. His half-hearted smile widened to a big beam when he saw both Daphne and Emily waiting for him.

‘My word, this is my lucky day,' he gushed. ‘Two gorgeous women to entertain!'

Daphne, glamorous in a fitted silk tea dress with a scooped neckline and high heels that showed off her long, slender legs, pressed herself close to boggle-eyed Rodney as she slipped into the convertible.

‘Darling, none of us can resist a handsome RAF officer,' she cooed.

As Emily was about to slide in beside Daphne, a breathless Elsie came running up the lane. Waving her hands, she flagged down the car just as Rodney started the engine.

‘STOP! WAIT!' she hollered.

Daphne gave Emily a secretive nudge in the ribs.

‘What is it, Elsie, what's the matter?' Emily cried.

Elsie, who'd been rehearsing her lines all morning, put a hand over her mouth to hide the laughter that threatened to bubble out of her.

‘You can't go, Emily,' she said woodenly. ‘You're urgently needed back at the Phoenix.'

In a blink, Emily hopped out.

‘Just me?' she said, winking at Elsie.

Elsie nodded as she clunkily repeated her practised lines.

‘Only you,' she replied.

‘Tough luck!' Rodney boomed as he hit the accelerator and roared off over the moors with smiling Daphne by his side.

Everybody was surprised by Daphne's interest in ‘Rodders', as the girls, even Esther, called Flight Lieutenant Rodney Harston-Binge.

‘He's great marriage material,' said Daphne as she soaked in the bath surrounded by her friends. ‘We share the same background, have friends in common; plus, he's stinking rich … and I quite like his MG too!'

‘Money isn't everything,' Elsie said wisely.

‘But it helps, darling,' Daphne said as she lathered soap on her long, slender legs.

‘Can you bear the way he kisses?' Emily asked with a grimace.

‘Really, you northern girls are so naive,' Daphne replied.

‘Count me out of the northern bit. I'm a Londoner born and bred,' Agnes reminded her.

‘I control the kissing and we do it my way or we don't do it at all,' Daphne said, at which point Agnes ushered wide-eyed Esther out of the bathroom.

‘Don't want to give her any ideas,' she said.

‘You can never start too young!' Lillian teased.

‘Did you, you know, do it with him?' Elsie asked.

‘Absolutely not!' Daphne cried. ‘He suggested we rolled about like heathens in the heather but I have my standards.'

‘Good, cos Rodders definitely hasn't,' laughed Emily.

As summer came round and optimism heightened across the nation after the Allies landed in Sicily, Emily organized a jitterbug night at the Phoenix. Elsie, Agnes, Lillian and Daphne threw themselves into the preparations.

‘We'll order in a couple of barrels of beer from Malc's pal who makes his own home-brew,' Emily said as she got onto her favourite subject: food.

‘Witch piss, more like,' Lillian added.

On a roll, Emily ignored her.

‘I'll beg, borrow or steal anybody's ration coupons to buy extra meat for a meat and potato pie with mushy peas and pickled red cabbage.'

‘At least Churchill's not rationed pickled cabbage and peas!' Elsie laughed.

‘Really, darling!' Daphne said as she wrinkled her small nose in distaste. ‘It sounds awfully like peasant fodder!'

‘Well, what were you expecting?' Emily exclaimed.

‘Something a little more luxurious,' Daphne said wistfully. ‘Salmon canapés, Martini cocktails, foie gras, lamb cutlets with mint sauce …'

‘Remember rationing, Daphne?' Lillian asked. ‘Or has that completely passed you by?'

‘There are ways and means,' Daphne insisted. ‘You just have to use your imagination.'

‘I
am
using my imagination,' Emily pointed out. ‘I'm imagining what I can make with the few food coupons I can cadge'

‘But, really, peas and pies and pickles?' Daphne scoffed. ‘How are we supposed to handle platefuls of steaming food in the middle of a boogie night?'

‘Stick around, kid, and find out,' Emily said with a knowing smile.

Lillian organized a popular swing band from Bradford to play for the evening.

‘We'll pay them out of the takings,' she said confidently.

Agnes, Elsie and Esther helped decorate the canteen with bunting and Union Jacks, whilst Daphne and Lillian stacked away all the metal tables and chairs so there was a large enough space for dancing.

Emily was in her element in the kitchen, where Esther soon joined her, eager to help with rolling out the pastry. Emily gently simmered minced meat in a pan, stirred in Oxo cubes and onions, then bulked out the mixture with carrots and potatoes, adding a bit of gravy browning to give it depth, and a generous sprinkle of wild herbs freshly picked from the moors that morning.

‘Mmm, it smells good!' Esther said as she sniffed the bubbling pan.

‘Come on, sweetheart, let's roll the pastry whilst the meat cools down,' said Emily.

The pastry was made with brown flour, white lard and as much shin-beef dripping as Emily could scrounge from the canteen cook, and to add moisture she added mashed potato and milk; then she rolled it carefully on a well-floured board. She and Esther made over a dozen huge savoury mince and onion pies, which Emily intended to cook during the dancing so that she could serve the food fresh and piping hot.

Excitement increased as preparations heightened. Esther was thrilled when the Bradford Swing Band arrived early to set up and rehearse. As they struck up ‘Chattanooga
Choo Choo', she danced all through the number, regardless of her calliper, and received a standing ovation from the band.

‘I'm going to be a dancer when I grow up,' she announced.

‘Move over, Ginger Rogers, is all I've got to say,' said Lillian as she picked the little girl up and swung her round the floor to ‘In the Mood'.

Only one thing dampened Emily's anticipation of the dance night and that was Freddie Bilodeau. He would inevitably be there along with all the other Canadian servicemen, now well established in the nearby airfield.

‘I wish we could stop Freddie from coming,' she said as they hung bunting in the canteen.

Lillian, balanced on a ladder, said, ‘We can't ban him on the grounds that he's a bastard!'

‘I know,' Emily answered. ‘I just wish he'd drop off the edge of the universe so that I never have to see him again.'

‘No chance. Where there're women there'll be Freddie Bilodeau,' said Lillian knowingly.

‘Who is this wretched Casanova character?' Daphne asked.

‘The man I cheated on Bill with,' Emily said miserably.

‘Only to discover he's a womanizer,' Elsie added.

‘Believe me, he's been through half the workforce,' said Agnes.

Emily cringed as she covered her ears.

‘STOP!' she cried. ‘I made such a fool of myself.'

‘Darling, we've all been fools for love,' Daphne said as she passed yards of bunting up to Lillian.

‘But this fella's not worth the heartache,' Elsie said indignantly. ‘He behaves like he's cock of the roost.'

‘My dear, you say the quaintest things,' Daphne laughed.

‘You know what I mean,' Elsie replied. ‘He's only out for what he can get.'

Daphne and Lillian exchanged a mischievous look.

‘Mmm,' Daphne said. ‘Maybe it's about time Mr Fancy Pants Bilodeau was taught a lesson.'

Agnes and Elsie declined invitations to the dance, preferring to spend the evening in the digs with their children, but it didn't stop them helping their friends get ready.

Agnes ironed their rather dated dance dresses.

‘What wouldn't I give for a new frock?' Lillian sighed as she repaired a rip in the sleeve of her dress.

‘You could've knocked one up in no time,' Elsie laughed.

‘Oh, yeah! Done an Olivia de Havilland and made a new ball gown out of the curtains,' Lillian mocked.

Elsie polished their shoes until they shone, Daphne did their make-up and Lillian washed and set everybody's hair, including Esther's, which she brushed into an elegant chignon.

‘You all look lovely!' Esther cried as Lillian, Emily and Daphne paraded up and down the sitting room in their party attire.

‘I just hope I don't get mushy peas down the front of my best dress,' Emily joked.

Freddie did arrive, with a large crowd of airmen who made a beeline for the bar then headed eagerly onto the
dance floor. He saw Emily straight away – who could miss the blue-eyed beauty with the flaming hair? – but he chose to blank her, for which she was deeply grateful. Taking the hand of a small pretty girl who Emily recognized from the packing department, he swung onto the dance floor, showing off his great body as he moved in sync with the music.

Sighing, Emily made her way into the kitchen. In fact she was happy to spend most of the night preparing food for the revellers who she knew would be starving come nine o'clock. Hopefully, Freddie would leave early with his girlfriend; he'd probably take her back to his love shack, the stable where he would seduce her, as he had so many before.

Through the serving hatch, Emily saw Lillian wink at Daphne then nod in the direction of Freddie, who had returned to the crowded bar. Waving her cigarette holder, Daphne sashayed up to the bar, where she asked for a gin and lime. As she turned her back and walked away, Freddie's eyes widened at the sight of her swaying, shapely bottom in her tightly-fitted red dance dress. Leaving his drink on the bar, Freddie quickly followed Daphne to the edge of the dance floor.

‘Hey, are you new round here?' he asked.

Daphne turned her exquisitely made-up face to him and smiled languidly.

‘Not exactly. I've just been incarcerated in the munitions factory for months,' she replied with a seductive smile.

‘What a waste!' he said with a twinkle in his charming eyes. ‘With a body like yours you should be in the movies.'

Daphne batted her false eyelashes.

‘How kind,' she drawled.

Ignoring his waiting partner, Freddie held out his hand to Daphne.

‘Care to dance, honey?'

Through the serving hatch Emily watched Daphne and Freddie take to the dance floor.

‘What is she up to?' she hissed to Lillian, who popped her head through the hatch and laughed at Emily's astonished expression.

‘Teaching lover boy a lesson,' Lillian replied.

Knowing how anarchic Lillian could be, Emily eyed her nervously.

‘What are you up to?'

Lillian smiled and winked.

‘Wait and see …'

Clearly enchanted by Daphne and oblivious of the now rather upset pretty girl he'd started the evening with, Freddie danced the foxtrot, the waltz and the square tango with his new partner, then excelled at the jitterbug.

‘Is there nothing you can't do?' Daphne gushed.

‘With a gorgeous girl like you in my arms I could fly!' Freddie announced as the band struck up another jive number.

Before she could protest, Freddie swung flabbergasted Daphne over his shoulder, then with a deft flick he brought her back down and spun her around before sliding her between his legs.

‘Oh, my God!' gasped Daphne.

In the kitchen Emily and Lillian were rocking with laughter.

‘I think I just saw our Daphne's camiknickers!' Emily gasped.

‘I think I just saw what she had for breakfast!' Lillian giggled.

To the Andrews Sisters' ‘Beat Me Daddy, Eight to the Bar', Freddie continued to spin, throw and catch Daphne, who, with dishevelled hair and crumpled dress, was beginning to look more like a scarecrow than a glamour girl.

‘Poor kid!' howled Lillian. ‘She hadn't reckoned on being thrown about like a rag doll.'

‘From the look in her eyes, she's ready to kill Freddie,' said Emily.

‘Well, that'd make two of you, wouldn't it?' said Lillian.

Finally the dance number finished.

‘Grub's up, so we'll take a break!' said the hungry band leader. ‘Best meat and potato pie this side of the Pennines.'

As Emily and Lillian dished up supper, they spotted Freddie leading Daphne out of the canteen.

‘Where are they off to?' Emily asked.

Behind the steaming meat pies, Lillian winked.

‘Can't you guess?'

‘Gorgeous grub, love,' said appreciative airmen as they tucked into Emily's delicious home-made food.

‘You should open a shop, honey,' one of them said.

Emily smiled.

‘Maybe I will one day,' she replied.

Meanwhile, out on the dark moors, Freddie was keen to get Daphne into the stables he so favoured for his
lovemaking but she persuaded him into walking to Witch Crag.

‘It was used by the Pendle Witches,' she said alluringly. ‘It has magic powers,' she added, holding his hand as she led him along the narrow moorland track.

With only one thing on his mind, Freddie followed like a lamb to the slaughter.

‘It's kinda isolated,' he said as he breathed heavily in her wake.

‘Just us and the stars,' she replied beguilingly.

‘Sounds good to me, honey,' he replied.

Once on the rather blustery crag, which Daphne had explored only the day before with Lillian, there was no holding Freddie back.

‘God, you're driving me crazy,' he gasped as they lay down together. ‘I gotta have you, babe,' he said as he threw off his jacket.

Daphne responded convincingly to his kisses, letting him reach up her skirt, and as he fiddled with her suspenders she huskily suggested that he removed his trousers.

‘We're not going to have much fun if you're wearing those, are we?' she teased.

Freddie's trousers quickly joined his shirt and jacket on the heather. Daphne had no problem in whipping off his underpants, by which time Freddie was begging for it.

‘C'mon, get your clothes off,' he cried impatiently.

Daphne stood up and, whilst pretending to loosen her bra, she cast her eyes around the dark moor.

‘Speed it up, babe,' Freddie implored.

As he reached to pull her down on top of him, a light
flashed from a gravel track that ran alongside Witch Crag. Freddie was too far gone to notice but Daphne certainly saw it. In a blink, she grabbed Freddie's clothes then ran across the moors as if the devil were on her heels.