Churchill’s Angels (41 page)

Authors: Ruby Jackson

‘Mrs Petrie and Mrs Brewer won’t mind,’ she told herself.

When had she first met them? More than half a lifetime ago but, since she was not yet twenty, half a lifetime wasn’t long. Grace sighed. Ten, eleven Christmases spent at her friend, Sally Brewer’s home, ten birthdays either with the Brewers or with the Petries. But when she thought of the Petrie family, it was not kind, comfortable Mrs Petrie or even her school friends, the twins, Rose and Daisy, who immediately came to vivid life in her mind but Sam, the eldest son who, for all she knew, might be dead.

No, he could not be dead. God would not be so cruel. She closed her eyes and immediately saw him, tall, blond, blue-eyed Sam, chasing the bullies who had pushed her down in the playground. He had picked her up, dusted her down and handed her over to the twins.

So many kindnesses and she had repaid them by slinking away, like a cat in the night, without a word of explanation or thanks. Again Grace turned her attention to the notebook and began to write.

Dear Mrs Petrie,

I’ve joined the Women’s Land Army and I’m learning all about cows.

That unpromising beginning was torn up. She started again.

Dear Mrs Petrie,

I am very sorry for not telling you that I applied to join The Women’s Land Army. It was working in the garden, growing the sprouts and things. It’s hard to explain but, although it was really hard work, I enjoyed it. I felt …

She could not explain the pleasure or the satisfaction that growing things had given her and so that effort, too, ended in the wastebasket. She tried to write to Mrs Brewer and four attempts ended beside the others. Grace stared in despair at the wall in front of her.

‘Still awake? Want some cocoa? We’re making it in the kitchen and they’ve left us some scones – with butter. Amazing how we’re able to squeeze more food in at bedtime just a few hours after a three-course tea.’

One of Grace’s roommates, Olive Turner, was standing in the doorway and the appetising smell of a freshly baked, and therefore hot scone wafted across the room.

Grace rose in some relief. ‘It’s hard work and fresh air does it,’ she said. ‘That smells heavenly.’

‘And it’s mine.’ Olive laughed, and together the girls ran down the three flights of uncarpeted stairs to the kitchen where several of the other girls were crowded round the long wooden table. A plate, piled high with scones and several little pots, were clustered together in the centre of the table. Each pot was marked with a land girl’s name and they were filled either with her own rationed pat of butter or raspberry jam.

‘Home sweet home,’ said Olive as she and Grace found empty chairs.

‘My home was never like this,’ said another girl, Betty Goode, as she bit into her scone.

The others laughed and Grace smiled but said nothing and the trainee land girls drank their hot cocoa and ate scones filled with farm butter and jam until their supervisor came in to remind them that cows would be waiting to be milked at five o’clock next morning. Groaning, the girls finished their supper, washed up, and made their way back upstairs to bed.

Acknowledgements

This book could not have been written without the help and support of many people.

Firstly my agent, Teresa Chris, who not only has always had faith in me but also has the ability to make me believe in myself.

All I knew about Dartford when I started my research was that it was on the flight path of the German bombers during WWII. I went to Dartford to find out for myself.

Thank you to all the lovely helpful people of Dartford who answered all my questions. I would like to thank all the librarians and historians in the central library who found books, maps, memoirs, letters, newspaper articles, films and who patiently explained all the things I did not understand. Very special thanks are due to the archivist, Dr Mike Still, who took me round the town and patiently showed me interesting places, nooks and crannies that I would never have found without him and who has since continued to send me snippets when he finds something that might be (and always is) of interest to a writer.

Personnel at Leuchar’s Air Force base were friendly and helpful and set me on the right path! – Thank you.

Enormous thanks and admiration are due too to the staff of the National Flight Museum on the East Fortune airfield near Edinburgh. The staff in the bookshop made browsing – and buying – an absolute delight, but most of all I would like to thank Duncan Johnston, Peter Moulin and Alistair Noble who patiently answered all my questions about aircraft, flying, and learning to fly. Like all knowledgeable enthusiasts, they told me so many things that I didn’t know I needed to know but which have proved invaluable.

Michael Hilton generously shared his knowledge of Wilmslow – and I would ask him to thank ‘Alec’ whose maps made it so easy for me to design my own airfields. Thank you both.

I am so grateful to Dr Andrea Tanner, archivist at Fortnum and Mason, who kindly shared her knowledge concerning the availability of supplies of honey, both home and imported during WW11 and even gave me accurate prices.

And, of course, without Ian and his scrambled eggs, this book would never have been finished.

About the Author

Ruby Jackson and her husband live in a small village in Surrey. Ruby, who worked for an international charity, now writes full time, with a particular interest in how women cope under pressure. When she’s not writing she is probably in their large garden coping with weeds.

Copyright

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

Harper

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Jacket layout design © HarperCollins
Publishers
Ltd 2013

Jacket photographs © Colin Thomas (girl); UPPA/Photoshot (background)

The Author hereby waives all moral rights in the Work. Notwithstanding the foregoing, the Publishers undertake to include the Author’s name in all copies of the Work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Source ISBN: 9780007506231

Ebook Edition © May 2013 ISBN: 9780007506255

Version 1

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