Gunner Girls and Fighter Boys (35 page)

‘Don’t kill me, don’t kill me!’ Her mother raised both hands.

‘Mum? What the bloody hell are you doing?’

Carrie Lloyd, wearing a long coat over her nightdress, was pulling tins of food from the cupboard and stuffing them into her battered suitcase.

‘If it’s the invasion, we’ll need these!’ she said, continuing to throw in spam and soup, and whatever else came to hand.

‘Don’t be ridiculous, Mum, we can’t carry all that – we’ve got to go now!’

Yet her mother, with shaking hands, managed to close the suitcase and attempted to drag it off the table. But it was far too heavy and May gently prised her hands away.

‘Come on, Mum,’ she said.

And leaving the suitcase behind, they hurried out into the night. May, instinctively stooping low, led them out through the front gate and on to the gravel path that swung round to the big house.

‘This way!’ she hissed, heading towards the wood. ‘They’ll be avoiding the trees – we can hide there for a bit.’

She grabbed her mother’s hand and felt the rigid fear in Mrs Lloyd’s body. The idea that the Germans had followed her poor mother, even into this seemingly safe haven, filled May with rage. It was fortunate that anger and indignation had displaced all her own terror, for they weren’t five paces into the wood before she was brought up short by a pair of German jackboots dangling in front of her face. She came to a sharp halt, so that her mother collided with her beneath an old beech tree. The dangling boots suddenly began kicking and May dodged out of the way, pushing her mother into the undergrowth.

She still had the poker with her and now began bashing at the boots till they were still. She looked up into the tree to see a white face glaring down at her. His body twisted slowly, suspended from the tangled parachute cords entwined around the tree branches. May thought he looked like a broken puppet rather than the fierce invader she’d imagined. A strangulated voice came from high up.

‘Help me!’

‘Help you? Why should I help a bloody German?’ She was betrayed by an undeniable trembling in her voice, but she steadied the poker and said as fiercely as she could, ‘You’re my prisoner!’

The parachutist laughed, and then choked.

‘German? I’m sorry, ma’am, but this German was born in Kamloops, and last time I checked my birth certificate I was Canadian. Now, are you going to help me down or not?’

His laughter came again, and suddenly Mrs Lloyd was at her side. ‘Don’t believe him, May, they’re trained to talk like us… He’ll slit our throats if you help him down.’

The man in the tree started to sing the national anthem and May began to feel very foolish.

‘Mum, can you go back and fetch me a chair and a knife from the kitchen.’ As Mrs Lloyd began to protest, May turned to her and said firmly, ‘Mum, listen to me, he’s no more German than I am!’

She shouldn’t really blame her mother. She’d been blindsided herself by the mysterious ‘fifth columnist’ on the hill and the presence in the major’s house of supposed secret intelligence officers. The propaganda they’d been fed for so long about a German invasion had certainly sunk in deep. What she really regretted was the effect on her mother. May’s training should have prepared her to be steady under fire but she’d panicked, and instead of reassuring Mrs Lloyd, she’d dragged her out into the middle of what appeared to be friendly action. She only hoped this hadn’t returned her mother to the spiral of fear that had sent her running from London.

‘My mother will be back in a minute.’ She craned her neck, watching as the Canadian tried to hoist himself up on the parachute cords.

‘Are you hurt?’

‘Only my pride, honey,’ he called back down, cheerful now that he knew he would be rescued. ‘Captured by a girl with a poker – I’ll never live it down.’ He chuckled.

‘I’m sorry, we didn’t know you were the allies,’ she called back up.

‘You can make it up to me if you like.’ She could see that he was grinning now, perfectly white teeth flashing in the dark shadows of the tree. ‘Agree to come to the dance tomorrow night at the base and we’ll say no more about it. What d’ya say?’

May thought he was very forward and was about to refuse when Mrs Lloyd came back with the chair and kitchen knife. While her mother held the chair steady May stood on it, and handed the knife to the airman. He sawed away at the cords, till May heard a ripping sound.

‘Timber!’ he called, falling with a thump on to the soft woodland carpet.

May rushed to help him up.

‘Ankle’s twisted,’ he said, wincing as he put his weight on to one foot and tried to walk forward.

‘Here, lean on me,’ May said, putting his arm over her shoulder, which he seemed to enjoy. ‘Mum, can you take his other side,’ she said quickly.

Between them they helped him hobble back to the cottage, and on the way he explained that the whole thing had been a training exercise.

‘Well, I wish someone had told us about it. My mum nearly had a heart attack, didn’t you?’

Her mother grunted, obviously unimpressed by the Canadian, who’d introduced himself as Doug McKecknie. He looked a little sheepish. ‘I’m sorry about that, but it’s meant to be as realistic as we can make it.’

And our panic was real enough
, May thought, feeling a flush of embarrassment. Back in the little cottage, May was surprised to see her mother begin calmly boiling a kettle.

‘I should’ve known it was you Canadians from over the base,’ she said matter-of-factly to the airman, as May helped ease him down on to a chair. ‘But you did sound a bit like Germans. Didn’t they, May?’

‘A bit – well, they didn’t sound English!’ said May. But in truth their voices had been muffled on the wind.

Mrs Lloyd put a cup of tea in front of Doug, who was laughing at her again. He gulped it down.

‘Well, ladies, I appreciate your help. But I gotta rejoin my company, or they’ll be sending out a search party. Can’t have them finding me drinking tea with the enemy!’

He got up gingerly and tried his weight. Seemingly satisfied, he looked at May.

‘See me out?’

May followed him to the front gate. Light from the kitchen crept through the edges of the blackout curtains, but otherwise the inky night hung about them. While he was in the cottage, she’d seen that he was handsome, in a rugged, big-boned sort of way, and now those white teeth flashed again as he said goodnight. Leaning on the gate, he smiled. ‘So, shall I pick you up around seven?’ She had to think for a moment, what he meant.

‘I’m not sure…’

What wasn’t she sure of? It was silly, but she had wanted to say that she already had a sweetheart, but the truth was, she didn’t. Perhaps it was time to let Bill, or rather the idea of him, go and get on with her life.

‘You did say you wanted to make up for your treason… and it’s just a dance, May, not a court martial!’

She laughed. It might be fun.

‘Yes, all right,’ she said. ‘Pick me up at seven.’

And as he limped up the gravel path towards the drive of the big house, she called after him, ‘Providing you can dance!’

‘Oh, I’ll be able to dance all right, if I have to keep this ankle on ice all night!’

He waved a hand and May watched him disappear behind the hedge. She strolled back to the cottage, wondering at just how much had happened, here in this out-of-the-way place. And to think that Emmy had warned her she would be bored in the country!

*

Pat came over from the big house next morning to see if May had heard all the commotion of the night before, and when she heard the story of the ‘German’ invasion, she began laughing so hard that she was soon gasping for breath. She held her side and flapped her hands at May as if she could do nothing to stop it.

‘Well, it wasn’t funny at the time – we were terrified!’ May said, straight-faced, and Pat squeezed her cheeks with both palms in an effort to curb her hilarity.

‘I’m sorry, hang on a minute.’ Pat looked away, but was wracked by a new fit of hilarity and May waited patiently, until she too was caught up in the giggling fit.

‘If you’d only seen Mum trying to squash all them tins into the suitcase!’

They walked over to sit on the little bench at the end of the garden, with its wide view of the valley and far hills.

‘At least you got a date out of it! Was he worth the terror?’ Pat asked.

May thought for a moment. ‘Ask me after the dance. What about your Mark – have you seen him since we arrived?’

Pat shook her head sadly. ‘As soon as we got here I went up to the stables to find him and Arnold told me he’d gone! I couldn’t believe it, just went off without a word…’ she said, looking miserable. ‘Just my luck, the first chap I really click with…’

May’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Oh gawd, in all the excitement I forgot to tell you. He didn’t just leave, Pat. He was sacked!’

‘Sacked? Oh God, my uncle must have found out about us. I thought he might disapprove, but he didn’t have to take it out on poor Mark. The stables are his life.’

‘But it wasn’t your uncle sacked him!’

‘How do you know that?’ Pat asked, looking confused.

‘Mum heard from Tom that it was the head lad did it.’

Pat stood up. ‘Arnold? That bloody man! He’s always made Mark’s life a misery, but I never thought he’d sack him. I bet he’s told Mark a load of lies about my uncle ordering it.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Come up to the lads’ barn with me? I’ve got to find out where Mark’s gone and tell him it wasn’t the major… He thinks the world of my uncle.’

May followed her to the old barn, which had been converted into a hostel for the stable lads. Her knock was answered by the short, wiry young man who’d collected them from the station in the pony and trap.

‘Tom, do you know where Mark’s gone?’

So this was her mother’s favourite. May could see nothing of Jack in him, but if it gave her mother comfort, what did it matter? The boy looked round nervously and let the door click shut behind him against the curious looks of a couple of lads. The dormitory that May had glimpsed reminded her of the barracks hut in Barkingside.

‘No, I’ve got no idea where he is. Sorry, Pat. But I do know Arnold’s banned him from the place. If I hear anything from him I’ll let you know, though.’

As they walked away Pat looked at May and said, ‘Looks like we’re in the same boat now, May, both lost our fellers. Well, you know what they say, misery loves company. Fancy a walk?’

She looked so cast-down, that May didn’t like to leave her, and after all she would only go back and rattle around in the big old house on her own. As they passed the stables, Pat stopped at an open stall to feed sugar lumps to a beautiful chestnut horse with long eyelashes and dark liquid eyes. He seemed to May to be expecting the treat. She stood a little to one side, until Pat beckoned her and passed her a sugar cube.

‘Dobbin, you must really love these animals to share your sugar!’ May joked, putting the cube to the horse’s surprisingly delicate lips.

‘I do,’ Pat said. ‘I can be myself with the horses – no expectations, no judgements.’ She gave the animal’s neck a firm stroke. ‘Mark felt the same. I suppose it’s why we got on so well.’

They left the horse and followed a track round the stables, where they began climbing the hill. They said very little, as the way was steep and Pat seemed lost in her own thoughts. Soon they were high enough to see the wide vale, spread out beneath them, with a line of hills so far distant they looked blue.

‘You can see four counties from here,’ Pat said, breathing hard. The hilltop was flat and wide and, as they walked along it, Pat said she wanted to show May something special.

‘It was Mark’s favourite place,’ she said.

When Pat stopped, May looked around, but there was nothing to be seen, only bright green turf, stretching away in front and behind them.

‘Where is it then?’ she asked and Pat beckoned. As May walked forward on to the turf she was aware of suddenly treading on what felt like a luxurious cushion; her feet seemed to bounce on the grass and she smiled at Pat.

‘What is it?’

‘This place is called the gallops! It’s where they bring the horses to exercise,’ Pat said, laughing. ‘Uncle says it’s like walking on the finest Wilton with four underlays!’

May bounced on the springy turf, and then dropped to her knees to press her hand down on it.

Pat looked on, smiling. ‘The gallops have been here two hundred years, always used for the same thing. And it’s hard work keeping it like this. Mark used to tell me about his job, “treading in the gallops”, they call it. See where it all gets churned up by the horses’ hooves? The lads get sent in with pitchforks to turn it over and then they have to tread every inch of it down. Back-breaking, but Mark said it was worth the effort.’

May admired the spreading emerald carpet and said softly, ‘Imagine jackboots walking all over this, Pat.’

‘I suppose it’s what makes me stick at the army. I know I’ve never had a home like you, but this is the nearest to one I’ll ever get. Even though I can’t be a gunner girl, at least I can do my bit to keep it safe.’

Wind whipped up over the top of the ridge as they sat side by side, silent for a while, May enjoying the peace of this landscape that had the power to charm and soothe and nurture.

‘I’ll always be grateful for this place, Pat. It’s given me back my mum.’

And it was true. May was convinced that, as much as the major’s kindness, it had been the countryside that had restored her mother. Here there was nothing extreme or challenging, no threatening mountains or raging torrents, just enfolding hills and winding streams, gentle balms for her mother’s shattered soul.

But suddenly the peace was broken by a sharp shout echoing like a gunshot across the gallops. Startled, she spun round to see a man emerge from a stand of trees. He began running towards them and she pulled Pat to her feet, urging her to run. For May had recognized him immediately. It was the watcher on the ridge.

May instinctively put herself in front of Pat. But she edged May out of the way, and as the man drew near, he ignored May and swept Pat up into his arms with undisguised delight.

‘
You’re
the German spy with the binoculars!’ May blurted out as he set Pat down on her feet again.