So as soon as the girls were dismissed that evening, Kathy handed over to her replacement NCO and trudged to the nearest bus stop. She caught the train in reasonable time and, to her surprise and delight, reached Lincoln in the early hours of the following morning. A friendly porter advised her that there were few hotels yet open but unlocked the ladies’ waiting room for her. It was neither warm nor particularly comfortable, but at least it was quiet and out of the wind, and Kathy was extremely tired. She lay down on one of the long benches, using her kit bag as a pillow, and slept soundly until other people began to come on to the station platform and the sound of trains and general bustle woke her.
For a moment, she wondered where the devil she was, then remembered and got, somewhat groggily, to her feet. She had the remains of a headache and the nasty, frowsty feeling of one who has slept in her clothes, but a cup of railway coffee and a round of toast cleared her head and a quick, though cold, wash in the Ladies’ woke her up properly.
She had not meant to ring the station until perhaps halfway through the morning, in case the crew of Wellington BN1543 had been on a raid the night before, but the trouble was, she had no idea where she would find digs in the city. She did not want to go to a hotel because she guessed that it would cost a good deal, and thought that if she could consult Alec he might be able to advise her. She left the railway station and found a telephone box, but just as she was about to take down the receiver from its rest and ask for the number of Alec’s mess, it struck her that he was unlikely to be able to help her. After all, he lived on the camp and would have no need of digs. Stepping out of the box, Kathy glanced around her and saw a line of taxis, presumably waiting for the arrival of the next train. She picked out a car with a fatherly-looking driver and went over to his cab, tapping on the window. The man immediately climbed out and opened the back door for her; an action that Kathy might have expected, though in fact she had not. ‘Where to, miss?’ he said briskly. ‘Out to one of the airfields, is it? Been on leave, have you?’
‘No, I don’t want the airfields, I’m here to visit a friend,’ Kathy said, knowing that she was going scarlet but powerless to stop herself. ‘I’ve only got a forty-eight so I shan’t be staying more than the one night. I suppose . . . do you happen to know . . . ?’
‘Oh aye, your best bet will be Tentercroft Street,’ the driver said at once. ‘It ain’t far from the station and there’s several houses lets rooms along there.’ He looked her assessingly up and down. ‘Mrs Bridges will suit you,’ he announced with a triumphant air. ‘Her house is clean and comfortable, though she won’t stand no nonsense, no hanky panky. But you don’t look like the sort of young person who’d – er . . .’
‘Mrs Bridges sounds fine,’ Kathy said quickly. ‘Is her house fairly near the station? Only I don’t want to miss my train back.’
‘It’s two minutes away,’ the driver said cheerfully. ‘Hop in.’ He started the engine and drove along the main road for a few hundred yards before swinging his vehicle into a narrow street lined with neat terraced houses. Several of them had boards outside their front doors announcing rooms to let, but the taxi took her past these to a larger house where two dwellings had been knocked into one. The garden was hedged with forsythia, already bursting into yellow bloom, and there were spring bulbs – daffodils, pheasant-eye narcissus, grape hyacinths and crocuses – blossoming in the beds that surrounded a small, circular lawn.
The driver jumped out and helped Kathy to alight, saying as he did so: ‘I always say, if someone takes care over a garden, then likely they’ll take care of the house an’ all. I’ll hang around till you’re took in, but it’s a quiet time of year; I don’t reckon you’ll have no trouble.’
He was right. Mrs Bridges, a comfortably plump woman of forty or so, with brown hair tied back from her face and her body enveloped in a floral wraparound apron, said immediately that she had plenty of rooms empty at present and took Kathy up to what she described as her ‘small back’, which was a pleasantly furnished room with pink patterned curtains and a matching bedspread. The room overlooked a tiny cobbled yard and on to the backs of a great many similar terraced houses. Mrs Bridges announced that it cost seven and six a night, though if Kathy intended to stay a second night, the price would drop to five shillings. ‘Because a second night in the same sheets means less laundering,’ she explained. ‘And the seven and six includes breakfast and a cup of cocoa and sandwiches, which I serves at eleven; a late supper like. I can do a proper evening meal but that’s an extra half crown and if you’re only here for one night you’ll likely not want to waste time coming back here from the town centre since I serve it at half past six. And I don’t suppose I need to tell you that you mustn’t bring young men up to your room.’ She cast a glance, half shy, half defiant, at the younger woman. ‘I’ve got me reputation to consider, you see,’ she finished.
Kathy agreed to abide by these rules since she had not the slightest intention of asking anyone back to her room and paid immediately, then placed her kit bag carefully on the single chair and asked to be shown the bathroom and lavatory. ‘I’ve been travelling all night and only had a cold wash in the Ladies’ in the station,’ she explained rather shyly. ‘I’d like to have a hot wash, if that’s all right, and then like down on my bed for an hour. My – my friend is aircrew and if his squadron were out last night he won’t welcome a call much before lunchtime. Is that all right?’
Mrs Bridges agreed that this was fine, and when Kathy left the house again at noon, she knew she was looking her best. She was in uniform, of course, but she had brushed her hair until it gleamed before rolling and pinning it under her cap and her uniform was spotless, her brass shining whitely and her collar so stiff and well starched that it threatened to cut her neck whenever she turned her head sideways. Mrs Bridges had told her which bus to catch to get into the city centre and had advised her to ring her friend from a telephone box on the way to the bus stop rather than returning to the station.
‘There’s usually a queue at the station once the London train gets in,’ she explained. ‘But the one down the road should be empty; you’ll be able to ring from there without a queue of people starin’ at you and banging on the glass if you take too long.’
Kathy took her advice and rang the number Alec had given her, for they had begun the habit of an occasional phone call, perhaps once a month, as well as their letters. She was in luck. The cheerful young man who answered the phone in the mess shouted Alec at once and in no time at all Kathy heard the familiar voice. ‘Hello? Alec Hewitt speaking.’
Kathy’s relief was so great that her voice rose by several octaves. ‘Alec? It’s Kathy. Oh, I’m so glad I’ve got you; I kept worrying that you might still be sleeping. I’m – I’m in Lincoln; they’ve given me my forty-eight at last and I didn’t really want to go home until my long leave, so I thought – I thought I might as well see a bit of the country – and see you at the same time. Is there – is there any chance of you getting into Lincoln? If so, we could meet up . . . if you’d like to, that is.’
Kathy swallowed nervously. She hadn’t meant to admit that she’d come to Lincoln in the hope of seeing Alec. She had planned to say she had WAAF friends on one of the stations but somehow, as soon as she had heard his voice, the truth had come tumbling out. And anyway, was it so awful? There was nothing wrong with wanting to see a friend, was there? And Alec’s reply soon put any doubts to rest.
‘Kathy!’ There was no mistaking the genuine pleasure in Alec’s voice. ‘I can’t believe it! Of course we must meet up, and as soon as possible. How long are you here for? I know you said you’d got a forty-eight but getting here must have taken a good deal of it. There’ll be a gharry going into town in an hour. Will that be soon enough? I could send for a taxi but they cost an arm and a leg, because we’re a fair way from Lincoln. Where are you staying? Is it an hotel? If so, we can meet in the foyer. Well, this is a wonderful surprise and the last thing I expected. Oh, Kathy, I can’t wait to see you!’
Kathy laughed rather breathlessly. Her heart was singing; she had been right to come and it was clear that Alec’s only reaction had been surprise and pleasure. She explained quickly that she had digs in the suburbs and meant to make her way to the centre by bus, and he said at once that she must find the Saracen’s Head, a pub everyone knew because it was a sort of unofficial headquarters for the bods from RAF Waddington. ‘At least we shan’t have to wear red roses in our buttonholes, because I’d know you among a thousand other Waafs,’ he told her. ‘Buy yourself an orange squash and wait for me in the bar; I’ll pay you back when I arrive. And don’t go getting picked up by any feller who happens to shoot you a line,’ he added. ‘See you soon, sweetie.’
Kathy put the phone back on its rest with trembling fingers, adjusted her cap in the small mirror, and headed for the bus queue. She was so happy she could have sung aloud, and climbed aboard the bus feeling confident that the day ahead would be a delightful one. How nice Alec was! It was the first time he had used an endearment towards her and she found it set her nerves jangling, though in a very pleasant sort of way. She sat in the bus, watching the passing scene and scarcely seeing a thing. In her mind’s eye she saw Alec greeting her as in a romantic film and, though she scolded herself, it was with considerable excited anticipation that she sat down in the bar of the Saracen’s Head with her orange squash and stared at the door.
The door had swung many times but only twenty minutes had passed before she saw Alec’s figure approaching her. He had tilted his cap to the back of his head and was grinning widely, holding out both hands towards her. Kathy jumped to her feet and for once did not wonder what was the right thing to do. Instinct sent her straight into his arms and if he was surprised he did not show it. He simply folded her in his embrace, then held her back from him, his eyes twinkling. ‘Did I see you salute me, Aircraftwoman?’ he asked teasingly. ‘Behaviour like this is frowned upon by the top brass, you know. Oh, but it’s grand to see you, Kathy – aren’t you the prettiest thing? And there’s more of you than there was when last we met.’ He stepped back a pace, the wicked twinkle much in evidence. ‘You always did have a pretty face but now you’ve got a gorgeous figure as well.’
‘You cheeky beggar!’ Kathy said with pretended wrath. ‘It isn’t that I’ve changed, not really. The truth is, I look better when Jane’s not around.’
Now it was Alec’s turn to scoff. ‘Just because you’re best friends, that don’t mean to say you’re anything alike,’ he assured her. ‘In fact, you’re chalk and cheese, so don’t go getting an inferiority complex, for goodness’ sake. Now, what are we going to do with our day?’
‘It really isn’t a whole day,’ Kathy pointed out. She glanced shyly up at him. ‘I – I suppose there’s no chance of you being free tomorrow? Only my train doesn’t go until six and if you were free we really could have a whole day to explore. But I don’t suppose you’ll be allowed off the station two days running,’ she finished despondently.
Alec, however, gave her hand a little shake. ‘In the ordinary way you’d be right, but it just so happens that we shan’t be doing ops for another couple of days. Last night we were badly shot up over Germany – there’s a lot of damage to be put right before old Bare Nell will be operational again.’
Kathy happened to be looking at him as he spoke and was secretly appalled and even a little frightened by the sudden change in his expression. He no longer looked like handsome, carefree Alec Hewitt; he looked very much older and very much grimmer too, but she knew that it would not be tactful to say so and merely said how sorry she was. ‘I know an awful lot about balloons but I’m afraid I’m extremely ignorant about aircraft,’ she admitted.
‘Most people are, unless they’re aircrew,’ Alec assured her. ‘But there’s no point talking about it. Would you like to walk up to the cathedral and take a look around? You get a marvellous view from up there. Or do you think I’m a dull dog to suggest such a thing? Tomorrow we could take a boat on the river.’
Kathy agreed with considerable eagerness because it was impossible to ignore the cathedral, which reared above the town, higher even than the castle and a good deal more impressive. It was equally impossible not to wonder, however, whether Alec had suggested the cathedral because he thought her a studious type of girl who would prefer church visiting to other, more exciting, pastimes. If, for instance, he had been entertaining Jane, he would undoubtedly have taken her to the flicks so that they could cuddle in the dark, safe from the eyes of any senior officers who might be about.
However, Kathy was well aware that this was a stupid thing to start thinking. She knew that Alec had written to Jane once or twice – Jane had made no secret of it – but she did not think for one moment that Jane would want to carry the intimacy beyond friendship. Neither did she think that Jane would be such a fool as to do the enormous cross-country trek from Liverpool to Lincoln in order to see Alec, who was in the same aircrew as Jane’s long-time official boyfriend. So she squared her shoulders and the two of them set off towards the distant tower of the cathedral.
Kathy soon discovered that reaching the cathedral was a tough business. In Steep Street, there was a handrail running along the side of the pavement and she was very soon glad of its aid and wondering how old people managed. After all, there was, presumably, some sort of cathedral close up here where elderly and retired clergy lived, and they would have to make their way up and down Steep Street every time they visited the shops.