The Hills and the Valley (27 page)

Barbara crouched down beside the cave while the men worked, murmuring words of encouragement to Jessie; The girl seemed remarkably cheerful and Barbara was filled with admiration for her courage.

‘Well, Barbara Roberts, you were the lucky one, weren't you?' she joked, only the strain in her voice betraying the trauma she was enduring. ‘The whole lot came down, didn't it?'

‘Uh-huh. Just like the big bad wolf and the little pigs in the fairy story. “I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll blow your house down.” And I must say he's made a pretty thorough job of it.'

‘What about the others? Are they all right?' Jessie asked.

Barbara bit her lip. This was hardly the moment to tell her about Ron.

‘Never mind the others. It's you we're worried about.' With a smoothness born of desperation she turned the conversation to seemingly irrelevant topics – boyfriends and dances, fashion and the latest popular music.

At last the team leader gave the signal that he thought it was safe to lift her out and with great care they did so. Blood was streaming from a cut on her face and her feet and legs were bare. Otherwise she seemed almost unhurt. As she was placed on a stretcher and carried gently to the waiting ambulance Barbara followed.

‘I'll go with her.'

‘There's no need, Barb, honestly. I'm all right …' Jessie protested, but her teeth had begun chattering with delayed shock and Barbara reached for one of the rough grey blankets to cover her.

‘For once in your life just try to keep quiet, Jessie Bendall,' she said sternly.

It was only when the ambulance pulled away that she realised that she too was trembling.

Dawn was breaking when Barbara walked up the drive of Valley View and tried to unlock the back door. She was so tired she scarcely knew what she was doing and could not understand why her key would not turn until the door was thrown open by Amy and Barbara realised it had been unlocked all the time.

‘So there you are!' Amy said. She sounded almost cross.

‘I'm sorry, Mum, I couldn't help it. There was a bomb…'

‘I know. Oh darling, I've been so worried! I've been waiting up for you. Ralph found out you were all right but I couldn't go to bed until I'd seen with my own eyes.'

‘Oh Mum!'

‘And just look at the state of you!'

Barbara looked down noticing for the first time her coat was still covered in dust and brambles, her stockings torn, her shoes caked with rubble. She glanced in the mirror and her face gave her another shock for it was pale and dirt streaked and her eyes were puffy and red from tiredness.

‘Never mind,' Amy said. ‘Just as long as you're all right. That's all that matters.'

Barbara grinned wryly.

‘You never know, Mum, I might have been better off in the WAAF after all!'

Two weeks later Ralph's Spitfire Committee held its first major fund raising event – a Grand Dance at the Victoria Hall.

The Fund had started well. A series of whist drives had provided a small but steady income and a Grand Christmas Draw was being planned with almost every local businessman being talked into donating a prize. But the dance, which she hoped would be the first of many, had been Amy's idea. ‘We might as well give people some fun while parting them from their money. Heaven knows we could all do with something to take us out of ourselves,' she had said, and before she knew it she had been volunteered to lead the Dance Organising Committee.

‘As if I didn't have enough on my plate!' she groaned to Ralph when they got home after the meeting, but he only smiled. Amy was never happier than when she was doing a dozen things at once.

In the event the dance took a great deal less organizing than Amy had feared. After sweet-talking some of Harry's colleagues on the council she was able to book the Hall for merely a nominal fee to cover the cost of heating and lighting, a local trio – piano, drums and piano accordian – agreed to give their services free of charge, and Stanley Bristow, who had run concert parties in Hillsbridge for as long as Amy could remember, volunteered to act as MC.

‘It's a pity your Ted isn't still about,' he said to Amy. ‘He could have done a turn for you. I've never knowed anybody with such a good voice as he had.'

‘I know. But we can hardly get him back from Australia to sing at my dance,' Amy said with a smile.

She placed an advertisement in the
Mercury,
footing the bill out of her own pocket, for now that she had taken it on she was determined her dance should raise more money for the Spitfire Fund than any other event, and when tickets went on sale at the local newsagents they seemed to sell themselves.

‘You'll be having to turn people away I reckon,' the girl in the news agents said when Amy looked in to check progress.

Amy delegated the catering arrangements to a small band of women helpers, with the promise that she would loan Mrs Milsom to assist with any baking that needed doing, and Ralph put in hand the arrangements for a licensed bar.

By the night of the dance she was in a great state of nerves, terrified that for all her careful organisation there might be something she had overlooked.

‘Stop worrying and enjoy it!' Ralph advised. ‘What can go wrong?'

‘Anything! The band could forget to turn up.'

‘Of course they won't. Have you ever known them to miss an opportunity to deafen us all?'

‘There's always a first time. Or something could go wrong with the heating in the Hall. You know they're always having trouble with the boiler. We could end up either roasting or freezing.'

‘If we're roasting we open a window. If we're freezing they'll just have to keep playing “The Gay Gordons” or “The Lancers” to get everybody warmed up.'

‘We could have an air raid in the middle of it!'

‘That,' said Ralph, ‘is one thing you can do nothing about. We shall just have to pray the Germans leave us alone. It's been very quiet the last couple of weeks and it would be just bad luck if they chose the night of the dance to pay us some attention again.'

Amy nodded. It was true, since the night the Chapel had been bombed everything had reverted to normal. No planes had come and apart from one false alarm the siren had been silent.

‘Let's get down to the Hall,' she said. ‘I want to make quite sure they've strung up the net of balloons properly. There's nothing worse than announcing a balloon dance, pulling the string, and finding nothing happens.'

‘Come on then,' Ralph said with a smile. ‘If the girls aren't ready they can walk down. They've had quite long enough to tog themselves up.'

The girls were ready, Barbara looking a picture in the red dress she had had last Christmas, Maureen in blue (‘Marina blue, after our dear Duchess of Kent,' Charlotte insisted on calling it). They piled into the car and reached the Victoria Hall to find the band already there and setting up.

Amy took first turn on the door and found herself rushed off her feet as both ticket holders and those who had come hoping to pay on the door arrived. The landlord of The George had set up a bar and was soon busy, the refreshments, in spite of the strictures of rationing, looked delicious, and for once the heating boiler seemed to be behaving itself perfectly.

By ten o'clock Amy had relaxed in the knowledge that all was well.

‘It looks as if Mum is enjoying herself,' Barbara said to Maureen as Amy was twirled past them by Frank Cottle the schoolmaster. ‘She hasn't stopped dancing since Ralph took over from her on the door.'

It was true. Every one of the Spitfire Committee was determined to claim a dance from Amy while Ralph was otherwise occupied for in spite of being the mother of two almost grown up daughters she was as pretty and popular as she had always been.

‘She's doing better than we are,' Maureen grumbled. ‘There don't seem to be any nice boys here who are unattached.'

‘Most of them are in the forces, I suppose,' said Barbara. ‘Come on, it's a “Valeta”. We can dance that together without looking silly.'

A few moments later the music stopped and Stanley Bristow came to the front of the stage.

‘We're making this a prize dance,' he announced. ‘I've got a surprise parcel for the first gentleman who can bring me a pair of ladies'knickers.'

There was a moment's silence, broken only by shocked giggles, then a big brawny man in shirt sleeves rushed between the dancers carrying his partner in his arms.

‘Here you are, Stan!' he shouted.

‘Well done, Walt!' Stan laughed. ‘You see, folks, I didn't say
how
you had to bring'em to me. You are wearing some, my dear, I trust?' he asked the flushed lady who had been lifted onto the stage.

The hall erupted with laughter.

‘That's a bit rude, isn't it?' Maureen said.

But Barbara was not listening. She was staring at the main door, eyes round, face suddenly alight. Leaving Maureen standing, she pushed her way between the dancers towards the young man in air force blue who had just come in. Then, as she reached him she stopped, shy suddenly.

‘Huw!' was all she could say. ‘Oh Huw!'

‘Well done, Amy. It's been a wonderful success.'

‘It certainly has. You must organise another one.'
The dance was almost over now, people were leaving and stopping
to congratulate Amy as they did so. She replied automatically,
nodding and smiling, but her thoughts were no longer on the
success or otherwise of the dance and across their shoulders she
was watching one couple on the dance floor who seemed oblivious
of all others.

Barbara and Huw.

It had been a wonderful surprise to see him, of course. He had got a three-day leave pass and hitched a lift straight home, he had told her, and she had been delighted that he should arrive tonight of all nights.

‘Oh Huw, it's so good to see you!' she had said, hugging him, then holding him at arm's length and thinking how handsome, how
dashing
he looked in his uniform.

But her pleasure had been shortlived for it was soon obvious that Huw, though pleased to see all of them, really had no eyes for anyone but Barbara.

It was so long now since he had been home that she had almost forgotten her anxieties of the previous Christmas. Stupid imagination, she had told herself, and half expected that when Huw next turned up he would have a girl on his arm. Why, he could even be getting married before she knew it. He was twenty-two years old now after all, quite old enough, and with a war on couples seemed to be heading for the altar when they had only known each other for a few weeks.

But tonight she had seen Barbara with Huw and all her old fears had been resurrected.

They had been dancing together from the moment he had arrived. Now, it was the last waltz and there they were in the centre of the floor, Barbara's cheek resting against Huw's chin. As the soft overhead light fell on them Amy saw that her eyes were closed, a dreamy smile playing about her mouth. And the way Huw was holding her was decidedly not brotherly.

Amy's heart came into her mouth. It was happening, just as she had feared. Barbara and Huw. Oh dear God, what was she going to do?

The music was haunting.

Who's taking you home tonight after the dance is
thru'?

Who's the lucky fella going your way

Who'll kiss you goodnight at your doorway …

It was over. Couples were leaving the floor. But Barbara and Huw still stood there, looking at one another, just looking …

Amy hurried over to them

‘We shan't bother too much with clearing up tonight – the caretaker will be in in the morning. Ralph has got the car …'

‘There won't be room for all of us, will there?' Barbara said. Her face was aglow, flushed and smiling. She looked like a young woman in love.

‘Oh, I expect we can all squeeze in,' Amy said.

‘No, don't worry about us,' Huw said and Barbara added, ‘We'll be all right, Mum. Huw and I will walk.'

Amy floundered helplessly, faced with unexpected suddenness by the very situation she had always feared.

‘All right,' she agreed reluctantly.

At this moment there was nothing else she could do. The moon was shining, clear and cold, as they left the Hall. The square outside was still busy with people stopping for a last word or calling goodnight to one another and a couple ahead of them had stopped to embrace in the subway that ran beneath the railway line. When they reached the road Huw put his arm around Barbara to see her across and left it there. She let her head rest against his shoulder.

‘When I saw you come in tonight I thought I was dreaming,' she said.

‘I thought I'd surprise you.'

‘You certainly did that. Oh Huw, it's so lovely to see you. I've been so worried …'

‘No need to worry about me,' he said. He used the breezy tone of all fliers; the boys who looked death in the face day by day, who ‘scrambled'with their friends and tried not to notice the faces that were missing when they gathered again in the mess at night to drink a little too much and sing a little too raucously to the jangling accompaniment of the mess room piano, but the underlying tension was there all the same. She caught it and shivered.

‘Cold?' he asked.

‘No. Not really.'

But he pulled her closer all the same.

‘It sounds as though I'm not the only one to have a narrow escape,' he said. ‘You were lucky, Barbara. They shouldn't have allowed you to be out in the open when there was a raid on, you know.'

‘Oh fiddlesticks,' she said. The horror of the bomb seemed a long way off now. ‘Don't let's talk about the war. Let's pretend it's never happened.'

But what else was there to talk about?

‘Wouldn't it be funny if when we have raised enough money to buy a Hillsbridge Spitfire you were to be the one to fly it?' she said.