The Girls They Left Behind (26 page)

But it was too late. It was roaring towards them now, pursued by the Spitfires, and from close by they could hear the violent rattle of fire from the anti-aircraft gun emplacement. Almost mesmerised, they stood staring as the aircraft swooped across the fields, little higher than the hedgerows, with the crew clearly visible, their mouths wide open and their fists pounding at the hood of the cockpit.

‘It’s coming down!’ Erica screamed, and they dived for cover under the haywain and crouched together on the rough, prickly stubble. Betty could feel Dennis’s arms around her.

She turned and buried her head against his chest.

The plane’s engines had stopped. They could hear only the rush of air as it hurtled by directly overhead. Then a tremendous explosion blasted their eardrums, and the ground shook.

There was a moment’s silence.

‘He did crash, didn’t he?’ Yvonne whispered.

‘It must be almost in the next field,’ Dennis said. ‘We’d better go and look.’

Betty’s ears were still ringing. She didn’t want Dennis to let her go. She looked up at him and he met her eyes. His own were grave.

‘We’ll have to go,’ he said. ‘The crew might be needing help.’

‘They need capturing,’ Erica said sharply. She crawled out from under the cart and brushed herself down. ‘They’re the enemy. They’ll have to be handed over to the authorities.’

Dennis let go of Betty and they followed Erica. Yvonne too had scrambled out and was already halfway across the field.

Beyond the hedge they could see the tail fin of the plane, sticking up into the air. Suddenly excited, they broke into a run. The stubble cracked and broke beneath their feet and Betty felt it scratch her legs. It was difficult to run on and she felt as if she were in a dream, urgently needing to get somewhere yet unable to make it.

‘It’s got the swastika on it,’ she exclaimed as they reached the gate. They could see the machine now, a crumpled heap of broken wreckage strewn across the stubble of the corn they had gathered yesterday. Its back was broken, its tail torn away and its fuselage a mass of twisted metal. One of its wings was crumpled. The men inside were dragging back the hood.

Only two of them were moving; the other still hung over the side, limp as a rag doll.

‘Of course it has,’ Erica said scathingly. ‘It’s a Jerry, isn’t it?’ She scrambled over the gate. ‘I’d just like to get my hands on them ‘

‘No!’ Dennis reached out and grabbed her arm. ‘Don’t go near it.’

‘Why not? They won’t shoot now. They’ll be too scared ‘

‘Stay here,’ he commanded, and at the note in his voice Erica stopped and stared. But Dennis had let go of her arm and was running towards the plane. The three girls started after him, but he turned his head and yelled at them again to stay where they were. They hesitated.

‘Who does he think he is?’ Erica demanded, obeying him nevertheless. ‘Ordering us about like that.’

‘He doesn’t want us to get hurt.’ Betty’s hands were at her mouth again, watching as Dennis approached the aircraft.

‘They’re not doing anything. I bet they’re injured,’ Yvonne said suddenly. ‘He’s going to try and help them out.’

‘He ought to leave them where they are.’

‘That one who tried to get out - he looks as if he’s dead.’

‘Good thing too. The only good German’s a dead German,’ Erica said spitefully. But they’re people, Betty thought.

She began to run forward again. Dennis was now almost there. And then, appalled, she saw its outlines blur in a haze of blue vapour. Before anyone could speak again, the whole plane seemed to shiver slightly, as if it were a mirage seen on a hot day, and then with a roar it was enveloped in a burst of orange flame.

‘Oh, no.’

Yvonne turned away, her hands over her face, but Erica stared as if transfixed. Slowly, she lifted both fists to her mouth, biting on the knuckles. Her eyes widened and glittered, almost as if in elation.

Betty screamed and raced towards the flames, only to find their searing heat too much for her. She tripped and fell, screaming again as she felt them reach towards her as if eager to devour her too. Desperately, she clawed at the stubble, trying uselessly to get up, and then felt strong arms around her, lifting her to her feet and dragging her across the field.

‘Get back,’ Dennis said tersely. ‘The whole of the field’s going to be alight in a few minutes. This stubble’s like tinder.’

She turned to him and said frantically, ‘There are people in there. I saw them. We’ve got to help them.’

‘We can’t,’ he said, still pulling her along. ‘We’d never get near it.’ And when she turned to look again, she knew that he was right. Even at this distance, the heat was scorching their faces. Dennis’s skin was black with smoke, his eyebrows and hair singed. There was no possibility of rescue for the men they had seen staring out of the cockpit as the plane flew towards them.

‘It’s horrible,’ she whispered. ‘Horrible … There were men in there. I saw them move, Dennis, they were alive.’

‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘But they aren’t now. And there was no chance of getting any of them out. It must have been over very quickly.’

They could hear shouts now, as other people ran across the fields towards the plane. Jonas and Mr Spencer came through the gate and stood beside them, staring.

‘Bloody ‘ell,’ the old man whispered. ‘Bloody, bloody ‘ell..: ‘There’s nothing we can do,’ Dennis said. ‘It’ll burn itself out pretty soon. And then I suppose the souvenir-hunters will be around.’

Jack Spencer nodded. He looked at the three girls, at Yvonne’s white face, at Betty’s tears, at Erica’s glittering eyes.

‘Well,’ he said sharply, ‘what are you all hanging about here for? The Army’ll deal with this. We’ve got a harvest to be brought in. Let’s get on with it, before some joker lands on a field full of stooks. We can’t afford to lose the crop just because of Hitler.’

The girls stared at each other. Yvonne looked shocked.

‘But someone’s just been killed. Don’t you care? There’s men died in that plane - burnt to death. And you want us to just go back and stack corn as if-as if nothing had happened! Don’t you have any feelings at all?’

Mr Spencer opened his mouth, but Jonas butted in first.

‘Feelings? Those were bloody Jerries in that plane!

They’d’ve bombed us flat without even thinking about it. Why should we ‘ave feelings for that sort o’ filth, eh?’ He glowered at Yvonne. ‘You want to be careful, saying things like that people’ll be taking you for a bloody fifth columnist, that’s what. Like ‘im!’ He jerked his head at Dennis, whose skin flushed under its layer of soot.

‘That’s enough!‘Jack Spencer said quickly. ‘Leave the girl alone, Jonas. She’s upset, and no wonder. And you’d better watch your own tongue, too.’ He turned back to Yvonne, and spoke more quietly. ‘Of course I’ve got feelings, girl. I don’t like seeing men burnt to death any more than you do. But like Dennis said, there’s nothing more we can do. It’s not going to help if we sit about crying over it. And stacking corn’s important. You want your families to have food to eat, don’t Yvonne bit her lip. Betty remembered Mrs Marsh saying that whatever Hitler threw at you, you just had to get on with it. And Uncle Frank saying that life had to go on as normal.

There was still corn to be harvested, animals to be fed. She took Yvonne’s arm and said gently, ‘He’s right. That’s what we’re here for. Land Army, remember - we’re soldiers too!’

Yvonne’s mouth trembled into a watery grin. She nodded, and let Betty lead her back through the gate. But they were silent as they walked across the field. And Betty glanced at Dennis and wondered what he was thinking.

Erica had said he was too frightened to fight. But he hadn’t seemed frightened when the plane crashed, and he hadn’t run the other way when they’d thought there might be Germans still alive in it. He’d gone to help. They might have turned the plane’s guns on him as he ran across the field, they might have fired at him with pistols, but he’d still gone to help.

To help - not to fight.

One day, she thought, I’ll ask him about this conscientious objector business. I’ll ask him to explain why he feels like that and what it all means.

But for now, there were stooks to be loaded, cows to be milked and pigs to be fed. And no time at all for conversation.

‘Derek Harker! Whatever are you doing here?’

Derek grinned a little selfconsciously. With the rest of 698

Unit, he had been working on Salisbury Plain, building an aerodrome. He was in uniform, tanned and fit, and Ethel Glaister looked him up and down admiringly.

‘Hello, Mrs Glaister. We’ve got a forty-eight-hour pass.

I’ve come home for a bit more of my honeymoon.’

Ethel Glaister bridled, as if he had said something offensive. Maybe she’d forgotten what honeymoons were for, Derek thought with a private grin. Looking at poor old George, he wouldn’t be a bit surprised.

‘Honeymoon!’ Ethel said. ‘I wonder you haven’t got better things to think of, with a war on. Does that mean my George is going to be home too?’

‘That’s right. He stopped at the newsagent’s. Buying you a nice box of chocolates, I wouldn’t wonder.’ He winked.

‘If he is, it’ll be the first time,’ Ethel retorted. ‘And if he’s getting them from that spy’s wife I shan’t take them anyway.

I’d rather die!’

Derek stared at her. ‘Spy’s wife? Mrs Brunner? What d’you mean?’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean. Heinrich Brunner was a German, an alien, he was interned. Speaks for itself doesn’t it? What I don’t understand is why they never took Alice as well.’

Derek felt suddenly sickened. He looked at Ethel’s carefully made-up face, at her permed hair and smart blue suit. He thought of George Glaister, more like a mouse than a man. It wasn’t surprising he was so nervy, with a wife like this.

No wonder he hadn’t seemed all that thrilled when they’d got their leave passes.

‘Well, I daresay he’ll be pleased to see you,’ he said uncertainly. ‘And I know Olive’ll be pleased to see me. So if you don’t mind, Mrs Glaister, I’ll be getting along - forty eight hours isn’t long, when you’ve only had two days’

married life!’

He strode on quickly. It seemed a lifetime since he and Olive had got married, and he hadn’t been able to get home since. Olive would be at his father’s yard now, working in the office, and with any luck he could get the old man to let her off early. We’ll have a spree tonight, he thought. Wonder if I can get her mum and dad to go out somewhere this evening.

Or maybe he’d take Olive out himself. There might be something good on at the flicks. At least they’d be able to sit and have a cuddle - spending the evening in polite conversation with his in-laws was not at all what he had in mind!

He turned the last familiar corner and went straight into the yard. The little office was there, looking the same as always, he’d had a brief fear that it might have been hit in a raid and no one told him, and he could see Olive inside, her head bent over her desk. He stood for a moment, gazing in at her.

Derek had had several girlfriends before he had started going out with Olive. They had known each other slightly since childhood, for the streets where they lived were only a few hundred yards apart, but they had not gone to school together. Derek had been sent to a primary school in the opposite direction and then to the boys’ Grammar School. He had stayed at school until he was sixteen and then gone to work for an accountant. His friends had moved in a different social circle from Olive, and although he was aware of the pretty, chestnut-haired girl from the bottom of March Street, it wasn’t until they both went to the same church dance that he’d ever spoken to her.

From then on, they had spent every spare moment together and when the war had broken out had wanted desperately to get married. But Ted Chapman didn’t approve of girls

marrying before they were twenty-one, and it had taken”

Dunkirk to change his mind.

Unable to wait any longer, Derek pushed open the office door. Olive turned, and stared at him. For a moment there was total silence, and then she leapt to her feet, knocking over a pile of invoices, and flung her arms around him. He held her close against his rough khaki tunic, hardly able to believe that she was in his arms again at last, and bent his head to kiss her.

He could taste the salt of tears on his tongue, and laughed shakily.

‘What are you crying for? Aren’t you pleased to see me?’

‘Pleased? Oh, Derek-Derek!’ She clung to him, lifting her face to his, half crying, half laughing. ‘Why didn’t you say you were coming? Why didn’t you let me know? Oh Derek, Derek.’ ‘Ssh, ssh.’ He stroked her back, disconcerted to find that his own eyes were wet. There was a lump in his throat and his lips were quivering. Surely he couldn’t be going to cry. He’d hardly cried at all since he was a kid. ‘Livy, I’ve missed you so much.’

‘Oh, Derek, it’s been awful without you. Hearing about the raids, never knowing if they were getting through to you. They’ve been going for the airfields, haven’t they? Every day I’ve woken up and thought, have they bombed my Derek? I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, I just couldn’t bear it…’ She was crying now, the tears pouring down her cheeks. ‘Derek, don’t go away again.’

‘I’ll have to, Livy. You know that. I’ll have to go.’ He held her away from him and looked down into her eyes, forcing a tremulous smile to his face. ‘But not till the day after tomorrow. I’ve got forty-eight hours, Livy two days. And two nights,’ he whispered wickedly, making her laugh through her tears. ‘So let’s make the most of it, eh? And not think about the war at all.’

Olive laughed and sniffed. She felt in her pockets and Derek took out a large handkerchief and mopped her face with it.

‘Forget the war!’ she said. ‘Chance’d be a fine thing, with the siren going off two or three times a day. Still, at least it’s mostly in daylight, they don’t seem to come over at night much. Frightened of being seen in the searchlights and shot down.’

They heard footsteps running across the yard and Florrie Harker burst in. She threw herself into Derek’s arms.

‘I couldn’t believe it, I couldn’t believe it was really you, but Fred Stokes just came in, he said he’d seen you walking up the street. Oh, Derek, why didn’t you let us know? I’d have got something special in for supper. And your room’s all untidy, it’s all piled up with wedding presents and stuff. And what I’m going to give you for your breakfast, I can’t think, we haven’t seen bacon for weeks and as for eggs ‘