Wish Me Luck (24 page)

The fire-fighters, together with members of the ARP, the Home Guard and villagers, their faces and clothes blackened and smutty, took a breather as the all-clear sounded. As the noise faded away, the RAF and WAAF contingencies found each other and made their way back to the pub, where Bill had opened his doors and was serving beer again as if nothing had happened.

‘It’s after hours,’ Johnny said, picking up a welcome pint and taking a long drink before adding, ‘won’t you be in trouble with the local bobby?’

Bill laughed and nodded his head towards a figure sitting in the far corner of the bar room, his face blotched with smuts, his eyes wide with weariness, his uniform rumpled and his helmet missing. ‘PC Mitchell turns a blind eye on such occasions.’ Bill’s deep chuckle rumbled again. ‘Besides, he were first in the queue.’

‘You look a sight,’ Kay remarked, looking Ruth and Fleur up and down.

They grinned back as they retorted, ‘So do you.’

Kay grimaced. ‘I expect we’re going to be on a charge when we get back.’

‘Depends,’ Ruth murmured.

‘On what?’

‘What’s been happening there. I reckon there’s been a lot of bombs fallen on the airfield. I expect that was their target.’

‘That or Lincoln,’ Tommy put in and, draining his glass, added, ‘We’d better get back.’

‘I just want to pop down the lane and see if the old folks are all right,’ Fleur said to Robbie. ‘But you go with the others. We’ll be all right now.’

‘Aren’t you staying at your billet?’

Ruth and Fleur glanced at each other. ‘No,’ Ruth said. ‘We might be needed on camp. We’ll come back.’

‘All right,’ he agreed as he kissed her. ‘Perhaps I’d better go with the lads, if you’re quite sure . . .’

‘I am,’ she said firmly.

They were all moving towards the door when it burst open and Alfie and his cronies crowded in. For a brief moment the two groups stood staring at each other. Alfie’s glance sought out Johnny and he took a step towards him and held out his hand, a wide grin breaking out over his boyish face. ‘Thanks for your help tonight. Put it there, mate.’

With a laugh Johnny grasped the outstretched hand. ‘Gladly.’

There were suddenly handshakes and back-slapping all round before Tommy said regretfully, ‘Sorry we can’t stay to have another drink with you lads, but we’d best get back to camp. We reckon it’s taken a bit of a battering. We might be needed, but we’ll see you all again as soon as we can.’

‘Right you are,’ Alfie said with a nod. ‘And the drinks are on us next time.’

‘You’re on.’ Johnny grinned.

‘Oh, I do hope they’re all right,’ Fleur fretted as she and Ruth hurried back down the lane towards the two cottages. They were thankful to see that there was no damage to the two properties.

‘They’ll be back in the house, I bet,’ Ruth said as they rounded the corner into the back yard and moved towards the back door. Her hand was already on the doorknob when she became still.

‘Listen!’

Through the darkness the sound of dance music drifted from the Anderson.

‘They’re still down there. Come on, we’ll help them back into the house and then go.’

But as they lifted the sacking over the entrance, above Billy Cotton’s music on the wireless, they heard Harry’s loud snoring.

Clutching each other and stifling their helpless giggles, they tiptoed away in the darkness.

They signed in quickly at the main gate.

‘Do you know what’s happened?’ they asked the young airman on duty in the guardroom. His face was white, his eyes fearful. He’s incredibly young, Fleur thought. He looks younger than our Kenny.

‘Not really. I’ve been stuck here. It . . . it was pretty frightening. I think the runway’s been hit and one or two buildings, but I don’t know what.’

‘I wonder where we’d better go,’ Ruth wondered aloud. ‘Where can we help?’

People were running to and fro and vehicles were rushing about putting out fires that still burned here and there.

‘That’s an aircraft.’ Ruth nodded. ‘I wonder how many we’ve lost.’

Fleur sighed. ‘One or two I expect. But at least the crews will be safe.’

It was always annoying to lose aircraft on the ground. It seemed such a futile waste when they weren’t even in battle, but it did mean the airmen were unharmed to fight another day, though they hated losing their aircraft. Some pilots and crews became attached to their own particular plane like a talisman.

‘Come on. Let’s see if we can find Kay.’

They found her eventually in the NAAFI, sitting at a table with her hands cupped round a mug of coffee, staring into space looking stunned.

‘Kay? What is it? What’s happened?’

Her eyes still didn’t focus properly on them. ‘She’s dead,’ she murmured hoarsely.

Ruth and Fleur glanced at each other.

‘Get us a tea, Fleur. I’m parched.’ The young girl behind the counter was calmly dispensing tea and coffee as if nothing had happened. She was even singing softly to herself. It was a particular kind of courage that Fleur always admired. Carrying on, no matter what.

When she returned to the table with two cups of tea they both sat down opposite Kay.

‘Now,’ Ruth said firmly, but not unkindly. ‘Tell us what’s happened? Who’s dead?’

It was strange to see the outspoken Kay looking lost. The girl blinked and suddenly seemed to see them for the first time, to recognize them.

She took a deep breath as if trying to rally herself. ‘Flight Sergeant Brown – the one you call the owd beezum. She was in the sergeants’ mess and . . . and it took a direct hit. There’s her and three of the fellers killed and one or two more injured.’

‘Why on earth didn’t they go to a shelter? There’s one near the mess.’

‘There wasn’t time. The bombs started falling almost as soon as the siren started.’

‘That’s true. They did.’ Ruth nodded.

‘What can we do to help?’ Fleur touched Kay’s hand.

She shook her head. ‘I – don’t know.’

‘Then we’ll go to the watch office. Bob might be there. He’ll know what we ought to do.’

Ruth and Fleur drank their tea quickly and stood up. ‘You coming?’ Ruth said to Kay, who hadn’t moved.

‘What? Oh – oh, yes, I suppose so.’

As they moved out into the darkness, Fleur whispered to Ruth, ‘Do you think she’s all right? I mean, she looks stunned. Sort of – lost. I wouldn’t have expected it of her. I mean, she’s always so . . . so . . . well, I don’t quite know what to call it, but you know what I mean. On top of things. I mean, when we had that raid when I was on duty with her, she was magnificent. She was calm as you like.’

‘I don’t know, but we’ll keep her with us. She’ll be all right. Maybe it’s just shock.’

The three of them ran to the control room. Bob Watson was there ranting at the enemy.

‘Would you believe it?’ he raved. ‘It’s going to take days to put this lot right.’ He flung his arm out to show them the glass littering the floor and paperwork scattered everywhere.

‘Right,’ Fleur said, as if metaphorically rolling up her sleeves. ‘Let’s get stuck in, girls. Kay, you fetch a sweeping brush. Ruth, you make some tea. Flight here looks as if he could do with a cup and I’ll start sorting all this paperwork out.’ She glanced at Bob. ‘You here on your own? Where’re the others?’

He sighed and sank down into a chair as if thankful to hand everything over to Fleur. ‘Sick quarters. They both got cuts from the glass.’

‘They’re not badly hurt, are they?’

He shook his head. ‘But I expect there’ll be a few that are. Have you heard? I’ve been here all the time.’

Fleur nodded and repeated what Kay had told them.

Bob Watson shook his head sadly. ‘That’s a shame. Poor old Brown. I know she was a bit of a tartar to you girls, but she was doing her duty as she saw it. She had your best interests at heart really, you know.’

Fleur was thoughtful for a moment before she nodded slowly and said, ‘Yes, yes, you’re right. I think she had.’

There were five fatalities that night on the airfield – three airmen, Flight Sergeant Brown and a young WAAF who had been running across the airfield to the nearest shelter but hadn’t made it in time. The dead were buried side by side in the local churchyard. It was sad and touching to see the five coffins all being buried at the same time. Fleur, Ruth, Kay and seven other WAAFs formed a guard of honour around the coffins of Flight Sergeant Brown and the young WAAF. It was a grey, miserable day befitting the mood of those attending the funeral, made all the more poignant by the gaping hole in the roof at the end of the nave. A cold, damp breeze filtered into the church, chilling the mourners. It was even colder standing in the graveyard.

Afterwards, as they were about to turn away towards the pub for something to warm them, Fleur said, ‘You two go on. I just want a word with someone.’

‘OK. You know where we’ll be,’ Ruth said and linked her arm through Kay’s as they walked on.

Others moved away until there was only a couple standing forlornly by the graveside of the young WAAF – and Fleur. She gave them a few moments before moving quietly towards them.

‘I just wanted to say how sorry I am,’ she said softly. The man turned to face her. There were tears on his face, yet he managed a smile. ‘Thank you, miss. That’s kind of you. Were you a friend of our Joyce’s?’

‘I’m afraid I didn’t know her well,’ Fleur said evasively. In truth, she couldn’t even remember having met the girl at all. There were several WAAFs she only came into contact with on parade. She knew them by sight, but not by name. Perhaps Joyce had been one of them. Billeted off camp, Fleur really only knew the girls with whom she worked.

‘She’d only just finished her basic training a month ago. This was her first posting,’ his wife said, her voice tremulous. But she, too, was smiling. ‘It’s such a shame – a waste, but we were so proud of her for joining up—’

‘We still are,’ the man said quickly. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think we’d have it any different, even though this . . . this has happened.’ His voice broke and he blew his nose loudly on a large handkerchief.

His wife glanced at him and then turned back to say, ‘She volunteered on her eighteenth birthday, you know?’

Fleur didn’t, but she nodded anyway. ‘Are you coming across to the pub? Bill – the landlord – will have laid on refreshments . . .’

‘That’s very kind of you, miss, but we’d best be catching the bus back to Lincoln and then the train home. We’ve a long way. I don’t expect we’ll be home before nightfall.’

‘Where—?’ Fleur began, and then stopped. She had been about to ask where they were from. But then, she realized quickly, they would know she hadn’t really known their daughter. She cleared her throat and swiftly changed what she had been about to say. ‘Where will you get something to drink and eat? You ought to have a cup of tea at least.’

The man and woman exchanged a glance. ‘All right, miss. You’re right. We could do with something – even if it’s only a cuppa.’

But half an hour later, Fleur was pleased to see them tucking into the sandwiches that Bill’s wife always managed to produce when there was a particularly harrowing funeral. And today’s certainly fell into that category, Fleur thought sadly. A little later she saw the couple onto the bus for Lincoln. The man – she still didn’t know his surname – shook her hand warmly.

‘It’s been nice to meet you, miss, though I could have wished for happier circumstances. But it’s a comfort to the missis and me to know that our girl had lovely friends like you. You’ve made today a lot easier. Thank you.’

Fleur couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat. She would probably never meet these people again, but if she had helped ease their pain at all, then the little white lie that she had known their daughter was surely forgivable. As a salve to her own conscience she said impulsively, ‘While I’m here, I’ll look after Joyce’s grave for you. Keep it tidy and that. I promise.’

The woman leant forward and kissed her cheek. ‘How kind,’ she murmured and dabbed away her tears.

‘We’ll arrange for a headstone. Perhaps you could see that it’s done nicely?’

‘I will,’ was Fleur’s parting promise to them.

Later that night, in Ruth’s bedroom at the cottage, Fleur told her what had happened after the funeral and the promises she had made. ‘And there’s something else . . .’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘When we were in the graveyard I noticed poor Mrs Jackson’s husband’s headstone has been broken in two. The top half’s lying on the ground. I bet the bomb did it.’

‘Oh, crumbs, she’ll be upset. It was the first thing she thought of when we told her the church had been hit. Are you going to tell her?’

Fleur shook her head. ‘No, but I’m going to see if I can get it repaired for her. Maybe she won’t need to know. I’ll ask my dad. He’ll know what to do.’

It was several days after the bombing before Fleur got a chance to go home for a brief, overnight visit.

‘Dad?’

‘Ssh, listen!’ Jake was sitting in his chair near the range, his head against the wireless that sat on a shelf next to the range. ‘Listen!’