The Girls They Left Behind (28 page)

‘Coo,’ Tim breathed when the two elderly ladies had passed. ‘That was a near thing. They could’ve caught us easy.’

‘D’you think it’s true? About them eating evacuees?’ Keith whispered nervously.

‘Nah. They didn’t eat Wendy and Alan, did they? They didn’t even fatten them up.’ But Tim’s voice was less sure than he would have liked. There was something funny about Wendy and Alan Atkinson and the time they’d spent with the Woddis sisters. Something his mother and Edna knew about but wouldn’t tell them. And he remembered the day he and Keith had gone to the house, when the snow was deep on the ground, and seen what they thought was a ghost at the window.

The feeling of terror that had gripped them mat day had never quite departed and since then the brothers had taken care not to go down the narrow little lane where the tall, thin Victorian house stood isolated. And although Tim was fairly sure that the evacuee-eating story was no more than a myth, he wasn’t prepared to take chances. Nothing was quite the same these days, after all. If people could start wars and make happy, cheerful men like Reg Corner go off and kill people, how were you to know what else might be true?

‘Yaaaaaaaarh!’ he screeched suddenly, and zoomed away down the lane, arms outspread once more. ‘I’m a Spitfire.

You can’t catch me. Nobody can catch a Spitfire!’ And he turned suddenly and dived at Keith, his head down and a rapid gunfire spattering from his lips. ‘Bi-bi-bi-bi-bi bi-bi-bip! I’ve got you. You’re dead.’

‘I’m not. I baled out.’ Keith was a quick learner. ‘I’m in the sea and you’ve got to rescue me. You’ve got to take me prisoner.’

Tim made a face. Taking prisoners was no fun at all. He wanted a dogfight, with aircraft swooping through the sky, guns blazing and parachutes opening like flowers overhead.

He shrugged and turned away. It was time for school.

Erica Jones did not see much of her airman fiance during the Battle of Britain. Although Tangmere was near enough for him to be able to visit her, the war gave him little time off, and when the airfield was bombed and almost destroyed he was moved to another a little further away.

‘I hate not knowing when I’m going to see him again,’ Erica grumbled. It was a Sunday afternoon, and she was lounging on an old blanket flung on the grass with a magazine open on her knee. Betty and Yvonne were up ladders picking a few plums and early apples for Mrs Spencer.

‘None of us know when we’re going to see our chaps again,’

Betty said a little sharply. ‘My boy’s in the Navy, somewhere at sea, I don’t suppose he’ll be back for months. At least your Geoff’s in England, he can pop over when he’s got a few hours off.’

‘That’s just it, he doesn’t get time off. They’re on standby all the time. They have to fly at a moment’s notice. And when they are off-duty they’re so exhausted all they can do is sleep.’

Betty shrugged. She still found Erica difficult to get along with, although the three girls had settled down to an uneasy kind of friendship. You had to, living as close as they did. But Erica always seemed to have the idea she was special, somehow. As if what was all right for other people didn’t apply to her.

For a while, they were silent. The only sounds were the quacking of Mrs Spencer’s ducks on the pond and the clucking of a few hens in the orchard. A soft breeze rustled the leaves. There had been just a touch of autumn in the air that morning, but now the sun was hot again and Erica moved her blanket into the shade.

‘Do you realise,’ Betty observed, succumbing to the temptation of a ripe Victoria plum, ‘there hasn’t been a single plane over today? It’s just like peacetime.’

‘Perhaps it’s all over,’ Yvonne said. ‘Perhaps we’ve won and they haven’t told us yet.’ She climbed down her ladder, shifted it and climbed up again. ‘Maybe by this time next week we’ll all be home again. Not that I’m in any hurry,’ she added, thinking of Rudmore Alley. ‘I like it here.’

The sound of an engine came from along the narrow lane leading to the farm. Dennis and Mr Spencer were bringing in the cows for milking, and they heard a few indignant moos as me approaching vehicle was brought to a halt. Erica glanced up without much interest.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Dunno.’ Betty craned round a branch to see. ‘Looks like a sports car. It’s full of men - pilots, I should think, they’re all wearing flying helmets. I say, d’you suppose ‘

‘Pilots?’ Erica was on her feet. ‘It’s Geoffrey, it must be. Oh good heavens, I look such a sight! He mustn’t see me like this.

Oh, what shall I do? What shall I do?’

‘Go in through the back door,’ Yvonne said. ‘We’ll keep them here. But don’t take too long making yourself beautiful, they might only have a few hours.’ She watched Erica’s hasty departure and giggled. ‘Wonder what she’ll do to herself? She looked all right to me as she was.’

‘Oh, she’ll dress herself up like a doll.’ Betty climbed down her ladder. The cows were now pushing their way into the milking shed, and the little green open sports car was standing in the yard. Three young men were leaping out without bothering to open the doors, each wearing a sheepskin jacket and flying helmet. They looked about them, grinning, and the tallest one accosted Dennis.

‘Hey! Have you got a Land Girl called Erica Jones working here?’

Dennis nodded. ‘She’s about somewhere. Probably over in the orchard.’ He waved across the yard to the gate where Betty and Yvonne were standing, then turned to urge the last cow into the shed. The young man looked at the girls and grinned again. He took off his flying helmet and Betty saw that he had thick fair hair and very blue eyes.

‘Well, your luck’s in, boys. Erica told me mere were two other girls here but she never said they were beauties. I like the dungarees!’ He strolled across the yard, followed by his two friends. ‘I’m Geoff Martin. Is Erica around?’

‘She — er - just popped indoors for a minute.’ Yvonne returned his look frankly. ‘I’m Yvonne and this is Betty. We came at the same time as Erica.’

‘Yvonne and Betty, eh? Well, Yvonne and Betty, I’ve brought you a boyfriend for the afternoon. Thought we’d go for a jaunt round the lanes, didn’t we, lads? These two characters are idiots but the best I could rustle up. The short one with a nose like a frog is called Duff and the ginger twerp is Sandy. They’ll behave themselves as long as we tie their hands behind their backs.’ He took a long look around the farmyard and orchard. ‘So this is where she’s doing her muck-spreading is it? Well, I never thought she’d stick it.’

‘Nor did we,’ Betty muttered to Yvonne. Aloud, she said, ‘Erica says you’ll be getting married soon.’

Geoff shrugged. ‘When this lot’s over. I’d say next week, but she wants a big wedding and we can’t fix it with old Hitler liable to send his guests to the reception. I must say it’d be a lot easier to have her nearer the station. We could get married quarters.’

‘That’d be a loss to the mess,’ the ginger-headed airman commented. He gave Betty a grin and said, ‘Geoff’s our star performer.’ He had rather a nice grin, she thought. And even more freckles man she had herself.

Betty smiled doubtfully, not sure what he meant. Was Geoff an actor or singer, or something? But before she could ask Erica emerged from the farmhouse door and the three men turned and whistled in unison.

‘Wowee! You’re a lucky chap, Geoff

‘So this is what the smart dairymaid’s wearing in 1940!’

‘Doesn’t the skirt get caught up in the machinery?’

Erica gave the other two a withering look and swept up to Geoff, holding out her arms. She looked like Ginger Rogers, about to dance with Fred Astaire, Betty thought. She was wearing a white dress with a heart-shaped neckline and tight, fitted bodice, billowing out from the waist in a full, swirling skirt. Her golden hair was pulled back into a pleat at the nape of her neck, and she had smudged blue shadow on her eyelids and smeared Vaseline on her lashes. Her lips were painted bright red.

‘Talk about a glamour queen,’ Yvonne whispered. ‘She looks like Gloria Swanson.’

‘After a bad night,’ Betty giggled, but she felt envious of Erica all the same. To have a frock like that and the figure and looks to go with it! She pulled discontentedly at her own short curls and found Sandy watching her.

‘You’ll come with us, won’t you?’ he said. ‘We know a little tea-place about fifteen miles away from here. We thought we’d have a run out. It’s not often we get the chance nowadays.’

Betty looked down at her dungarees. ‘We haven’t got anything to wear. We’ve only got our working things and a few other bits and pieces. Nothing posh like Erica’s.’

He laughed. ‘You don’t have to look posh. Actually, I think you look very nice as you are. I like girls in slacks and things. Anyway, there’s only room for one frock like that in Geoff’s old crate.’

‘Yes, come on,’ Duff joined in. ‘We’ll need a bit of company to take our minds of these two canoodling!’

Geoff looked up. His face was now liberally daubed with Erica’s lipstick and Betty felt half embarrassed, half envious. Fancy being bold enough to kiss her young man like that, in full view of everyone. Well, full view of herself and Yvonne and twenty cows, anyway. She thought of Graham and felt suddenly lonely. What would he say if he knew she was going out with airmen?

Yvonne saw her hesitation. ‘Come on, Bet. It’s only a run in a car and a cup of tea. You’re not being asked to spend a weekend in Pans.’

‘Chance’d be a fine thing,’ Sandy laughed. ‘Not that I’d fancy a weekend there myself just now. But who knows, when the war’s over…?’ He gave Betty a friendly smile and crooked his arm. ‘Come on, you sit with me and we’ll leave your friend — Yvonne, is it? — to fight off Duff’s advances. You’ll have to watch him, mind,’ he warned Yvonne. ‘Last girl he took to the pictures said it was like going out with an octopus. He might be only five foot nothing, but he’s got a good reach!’

They crammed themselves into the little car. Erica sat in the front with Geoffrey and the other four scrambled into the back. Betty found herself beside Sandy, while Duff and Yvonne perched on the top of the seat behind them. There was a good deal of laughter and squeals from the girls, and Betty decided to take Yvonne’s advice and enjoy herself. After all, what was the point of moping around by yourself when you could have some fun? And they deserved it, didn’t they?

They’d worked hard enough on the farm all week.

The little teashop was in a pretty village in Sussex. It was part of a flint-built house and had tables set out in a pleasant garden, with a tiny pond. Betty and Yvonne crouched down to exclaim over the goldfish that swam amongst the waterlilies end Erica draped herself gracefully on a garden seat beneath a cherry tree. A waitress in a gingham dress took their orders for tea and sandwiches.

‘Plenty of ‘em,’ Geoffrey demanded. ‘And a plate of cakes. And scones with lots of jam. I suppose you haven’t got any cream?’ he asked with an appealing smile.

The waitress shook her head and went back into the house, and Betty looked around at the peaceful scene.

‘You wouldn’t think there was a war on, would you? They don’t seem to know a thing about it here.’

‘Well, it’s not on the flight-path, you see. They’d take either a western or an eastern route from here.’ Sandy stretched and yawned. ‘It’s good to have a few hours off.’

Betty looked at him. All the way here, the young airmen had been laughing and joking, but they looked as tired as small boys who have stayed up too late. Their eyes were smudged with fatigue and there were lines that ought not to be on such young faces.

‘What’s it like?’ she asked. ‘Flying a plane. Fighting in the sky.’

‘Oh, it’s wizard fun. There’s nothing to beat flying, is there, chaps?’ The others shook their heads and suddenly they were all talking together, describing their exploits in the air.

‘Bandits everywhere,’ Geoff said, waving his hands. ‘They just came out of a clear blue sky. No warning at all.’ ‘That was the day old SnoLivy came back with half his wing dropping off. He was livid. He loved that crate, darned near took it to bed with him.’

Geoff nodded, still intent on his own tale. ‘There was nothing in sight, I was absolutely alone up there, and suddenly I saw it, a vicious-looking brute with a black swastika on its tail. Well, I knew then it was going to be him or me, and I was sure as hell not going to let it be me. Of course, he tried to get behind me, but I wasn’t having that, I stalled

and dropped below him so that I was behind, and then I started firing. He didn’t know what to do. Must’ve been his first time out, I reckon. Pranged in a field somewhere near Brighton.’

Was he killed?’ Betty asked, and he laughed.

‘What do you think? Look, you don’t have to feel sorry for ‘em. It’s us or them. One of our chaps, a gunner he was, was caught in ack-ack over Belgium. The plane caught fire, he knew it could blow up any second, went for his ‘chute and found that in flames too. The whole caboodle was ablaze, and all his ammo was going off as well. What could he do?’

‘What did he do?’ Betty asked, her imagination showing her the young airman, trying desperately to save his life in a blazing aeroplane while anti-aircraft guns fired from below.

‘Chucked it all overboard, of course. There was a crew of four, two of them had already baled out. The pilot was still aboard and this gunner managed to get the fire out and the plane limped home. Both pretty badly burned, of course. They say he’s in line for a VC. Not bad for a kid of eighteen.’

Eighteen years old! Younger than me, Betty thought. She looked at the three faces again. ‘How old are you?’

Geoff grinned. ‘Oh, we’re ancient. I’m twenty-three, Duff here’s twenty-one — got the key of the door last week, didn’t you, old man? — and Sandy’s the baby. He’s nineteen.’

‘That’s not ancient,’ Betty said.

‘It is in our line of business,’ Geoff replied, and there was a sudden uneasy silence.

Sandy stirred abruptly. ‘Where the hell’s our tea got to?’ He jumped up and went towards the house. His uniform looked too big for him, as if he’d got thinner since it had been issued. The girl in gingham came out, carrying a large tray, and he took it from her and carried it back to the table.