The Very Thought of You (25 page)

‘Well, get some sleep,' Frances said. ‘We've got a ten o'clock start tomorrow, so there'll be time for whatever breakfast they can give us and a bit of a wash.'

When they got into the bus the next morning, they found that Beau had organised overnight alterations. With the help of the soldier drivers and a couple of volunteers, he had removed the four back rows of seats and begged three camp beds from the quartermaster. They were complete with sleeping bags and a sheet that could be hung from screwed-in pegs to provide some privacy for the girls. The hampers had been squeezed into the luggage compartment at the side of the bus, and he'd even found a little collapsible table for the card school.

‘We should have thought all this out before,' Beau grumbled, when Frances had exclaimed in delight over the arrangements. ‘We really are bloody amateurs when it comes to touring.'

‘Never mind,' she said. ‘It'll do fine. If you men don't mind mucking in with the military.'

‘Of course we won't,' he grinned. ‘They're all geared up for men. It's the women who are a bloody nuisance.'

‘That was simply tremendous,' said Della, climbing into the bus and then hanging out of the door, laughing and waving to the soldiers who'd come to see them off. ‘What could be better?'

‘Well, this could,' smiled Catherine, looking with delight at the new interior of the bus. ‘Beau,' she called, ‘you've worked miracles.'

‘Thought you'd approve,' he said awkwardly. Catherine wondered if Robert had spoken to him and pointed out that he was in danger of losing the trust of his company. Whatever had happened, he seemed to be back with them these last two days.

‘Anyway, we have to get going,' he said. ‘Where are the drivers?'

They were climbing on board, arms full of more equipment. ‘Thought you'd like these, sir,' said Corporal Trevor, the one in charge. He had a small paraffin stove, a kettle and a couple of storm lanterns. ‘It's best to be prepared.'

Walter was carrying a box containing biscuits, tea and sugar, and eight tin cups. ‘We noticed, sir, that you hadn't brought any provisions with you, so we took the liberty.'

Beau was very grateful. ‘That's incredibly generous of the commanding officer,' he said. ‘I'll make sure to thank him when I next see him.'

‘I wouldn't do that, sir,' Trevor grinned. ‘He doesn't exactly know.'

‘Aha,' bellowed Godfrey from his seat next to the table, where the cards were already being dealt, ‘nothing like a bit of pilfering from the stores. It's what we all did in the first show. And, Beau, dear boy, very well done.'

‘A matter of opinion, old fruit,' Captain Fortescue's voice came from where Baxter was sitting on his own in the seat behind Walter. He had a new kit bag clutched in his arms, which he wouldn't let out of his sight. ‘Not much fun being all squeezed up, I'd say.'

‘No danger of you being squeezed up, Baxter,' said Della, her voice dripping with poison.

‘Stop it, Della,' said Beau, and tapped Trevor on the shoulder. ‘Time for the off.'

For the next three weeks, it was shows every day. Many were at much smaller camps than the first one, and often there wasn't time to put on the full performance, or space to change out of their uniforms, but they clambered up onto makeshift stages and performed to the best of their ability. In most places, there wasn't a piano, but Tommy accompanied the singers on the guitar, with Colin giving rhythm on the drums.

The girls slept happily in the bus and got used to diving behind bushes for the necessary comfort breaks. They made themselves tea and washed their underwear in a bowl that they'd begged from a quartermaster sergeant, along with a collection of gumboots. It was, as Della put it, ‘almost fun', and the days slipped away as they criss-crossed backwards and forwards along the front line.

After nearly a month of touring, they turned up at a small camp in the middle of a forest, where they had to perform on the back of a lorry. Della could only sing, but was a knockout, perched on the lorry with her skirt hitched up her thighs and her cap at a saucy angle on the back of her head. When Catherine sang, a soldier spontaneously accompanied her with his clarinet, which had been with him throughout the invasion.

‘I know you,' said Tommy, shaking hands with the young man afterwards. ‘Weren't you with Geraldo, or one of the bands at the Criterion?'

‘I played everywhere, mate,' the soldier grinned, ‘until I was called up. I even played for Miss Fletcher here, with Bobby Crewe's Melody Men, although I bet she doesn't recognise me.'

‘Let's ask her,' said Tommy, and called, ‘Catherine, Catherine, come over here.'

She looked over from where she was signing autographs, and smiling goodbye to the soldiers, she went over to where Tommy was leaning against the side of a tank chatting to the clarinettist. ‘Hello,' she said to the soldier. ‘I must thank you for accompanying us. You played so well.'

‘D'you remember him?' asked Tommy excitedly.

She shook her head, puzzled. ‘I don't think so. Have I met you before?'

‘Gino Olivero.' He put out his hand for her to shake. ‘I played with Bobby Crewe in 1938 for a week. You were singing.'

She frowned, trying to think back. ‘Did you replace Pete Lincoln when he had bronchitis?' She clapped her hands. ‘Yes, you did. I remember you now. Bobby was really pleased with you. Didn't he ask you to come back?'

‘He did,' grinned Gino, ‘but I'd already signed a contract to go to the States with a big band. I came home when war was declared and was immediately called up. That was nearly five years ago: no wonder you didn't recognise me.'

‘You're a sergeant now,' said Tommy, looking a touch enviously at the white chevrons on the man's sleeve. ‘You must have seen it all.'

‘I have, mate,' Gino grinned, ‘but I'd rather have your job, any day.'

Suddenly, in the distance, there was the rattle of gunfire and Gino looked round. ‘Shit,' he muttered, and then dragged Catherine towards a sandbag-covered trench. ‘Get in there, quick.'

Soon she was joined by the rest of the troupe, Della giving little squeaks of fright as she was manhandled in by a couple of squaddies. ‘Keep your heads down,' one of them grunted, and Beau, who had struggled in, shouted, ‘For God's sake, put on your tin helmets.'

‘We can't,' Frances shouted back. ‘They're in the bus.'

‘I'll get them,' said Tommy, and started to climb out of the trench.

‘Come back,' Beau yelled. ‘It's too bloody late now.'

A big gun started up with a boom, boom, boom. It was very close and Catherine put her hands over her ears as the whole trench reverberated to the sound.

‘Oh my God,' wailed Della, and Frances put her arm around her and held her close, and Catherine moved towards them so that the three girls sat on the muddy floor of the trench in a tight huddle.

‘Just as well we didn't put our frocks on,' said Frances, trying to calm Della. ‘It would have been hell trying to get the mud out of them.'

‘Ha, ha,' Della muttered. Then, as another huge boom shook the trench, she burst into tears. ‘I hate this,' she cried. ‘I bloody hate it.'

The boys were sitting in silence, all of them smoking furiously, and Tommy lit another cigarette and, with a shaking hand, passed it to Della. ‘Here you go, girl,' he said. ‘Have a drag on this.'

The gunfire rattled above them for another five minutes and then there was silence. Frances held her breath, waiting for the next explosion, but nothing happened. To her astonishment, she thought she could hear birds twittering in the trees above them, and from all around them came the noise of men talking and laughing.

An officer jumped into the trench. ‘Excitement over, folks. Come on out.'

It was almost the same scene as it had been when the firing began. Frances could see no damage, but spent cartridge cases littered the ground, and the smell of cordite hung in the air. ‘What was that?' she asked the officer. ‘Who was firing?'

‘Oh, it was some Jerry platoon,' he said cheerfully. ‘Got lost probably and barged into one of our outposts. We'll know in a minute when the men come back.'

As he spoke, a group of men walked out of the trees, one of them carrying a body dressed in German uniform over his back.

‘
Mon Dieu
,' whispered Catherine, but she watched as the soldier gently put the body on the ground and called, ‘Medic!'

‘Captured a live one, then?' asked the officer.

‘Yes, sir. The others are dead. He's got a bullet in his thigh.'

The German opened his eyes and gazed up towards the soldier who was bending over him. ‘
Kaput
,' he said urgently. ‘
Kaput
.' He looked very young, almost like a schoolboy, and there, lying on the ground, he raised his trembling hands above his head.

‘It's alright, boy,' said the soldier who'd captured him. ‘The doc's coming to look at you.'

The medic arrived and did a cursory examination. ‘Broken femur,' he said. ‘Will need surgery. I'll organise an ambulance.'

‘Good,' the officer grinned. ‘Bind the bugger up in the meantime and then I'll have a few words with him. Be nice to know where Jerry is heading.' He turned to Beau. ‘Your officer, Major Lennox, is it?' He nodded to where Robert was standing, examining a map with their drivers. ‘He thinks you should get your skates on. Back the way you came, I imagine. We don't know what the buggers are up to.' He grasped Beau's hand and pumped it up and down. ‘Very good of you to come and all that – the men really enjoyed it – but now I think you should get the hell out of here.'

With a last look at the injured soldier, who widened his eyes in amazement when he saw the women, the company left.

‘Tin hats on,' said Beau firmly, when they were back on the bus. ‘And keep them on.'

Robert was in the bus with them, this time, leaning over the driver and pointing out the route. For the first time, Catherine noticed that he had a revolver in its holster on his belt and that the drivers had stacked their rifles on the floor beside them. Strangely, she felt quite safe. Robert wouldn't let anything happen to them.

Frances sat with Della, still holding her hand. ‘Have I made an awful fool of myself?' Della sniffed.

‘Not at all,' whispered Frances. ‘We were all scared. I nearly wet my pants, and I'm pretty sure Godfrey did. Didn't you see that damp patch by his flies?'

Della took a deep, shuddering breath and gave a half-smile. ‘Thanks for saying that, darling,' she murmured. ‘You know, you're not half bad, for a toff.'

When they were on a larger road that had plenty of army traffic, Robert came to sit down beside Catherine.

‘Are you alright?' he asked, and moved his hand so that it was touching hers.

‘Yes, I am,' she said, then looking out of the window, asked, ‘Where are we going?'

‘Back towards the coast. We'll find a place somewhere near Caen where the Players can have a couple of days off. We've had to cancel the next few shows because the Germans have broken out of the pocket we had them in and it's not safe.'

‘That sounds good, about going to a hotel or somewhere.' She grinned. ‘I hope it has a shower.'

After about an hour, Beau struggled to his feet. ‘Colleagues,' he said, ‘I have to say that in the last few weeks, you've been extraordinary. You've performed in the most difficult of circumstances, and today, you've witnessed what our troops go through every day. Now, we're going to Caen. It's been very badly damaged, but I think we'll find somewhere to stay and you can have a couple of days off.' He paused. ‘I was wondering, though, after what you've all been through, if you might want to go home.'

‘No,' roared Godfrey. ‘For Christ's sake, no, sir,' and the laugh that followed that strident plea broke the tension that had been lingering since they'd left the camp.

‘We'll carry on,' said Tommy. He stood up and looked at his companions. ‘Won't we?'

‘Yes,' they all called, even Della, who in her mercurial fashion had got over her upset and was now as cheerful as ever.

‘Good,' said Beau. ‘Well, I have a few announcements to make. As you know, Paris has been liberated, and for those of us who know and love the city, it was achieved without any major damage. The Allies are moving forward on various fronts. Brussels, Antwerp and Dieppe have fallen to our armies, and Catherine' – he looked at her – ‘I believe you have family in Amiens?'

She nodded.

‘Well, that's been liberated too.'

‘Oh, thank God,' she whispered, and wondered about her grandparents. Then the thought came to her that Christopher had last been known about in that area. She looked at Robert. ‘He might be alive,' she whispered.

He shrugged, understanding whom she was talking about. ‘I don't know. I'll try and find out.'

They stopped at a roadblock just outside the city of Caen. Robert jumped down from the bus and went to speak to the officer in charge of a group of soldiers. Out of the windows, the Players could see the city. It was a terrible sight, damaged buildings standing starkly raw amid streets full of rubble.

‘My God,' breathed Frances, gazing with horror at the ruin. ‘It must have been dreadful for the civilians as well as the military.'

‘There won't be anywhere for us to stay in there,' said Della. ‘It doesn't look as though there's a building left standing. What a mess.'

‘I think we're being directed back along the road.' Tommy had his face glued to the window.

After getting and returning salutes with the officer and his men, Robert got back on board. ‘Right,' he said to Corporal Trevor, flourishing the map and pointing. ‘We go down this road. It's not very far.'