Wish Me Luck (45 page)

Meg bent closer and whispered, ‘I shall tell him, Fleur. I just . . . just haven’t had the right moment.’

‘It’s all right. I promise I won’t say—’

‘And what are you two whispering about?’

‘I was just asking your mother if you’ve been behaving yourself.’

Robbie laughed and pulled a face. ‘I’m bored out of my skull.’

Meg, straightening up, laughed. ‘We’re not very exciting company, I’m afraid. Just me and the old man.’

‘I didn’t mean that, Ma. I love being with you. It’s just that it’s all going on without me.’

‘Just be thankful it is for a while,’ Fleur replied tartly. ‘It’s giving us all a bit of a rest knowing you’re safe. Think about us for once instead of being the hero.’

There was silence until Fleur covered her face and said contritely, ‘Oh, I’m sorry – I’m so sorry. That sounded awful. It came out all wrong. I just . . . I just – what with you going missing and we all thought you were dead and then Kenny . . .’

‘Darling, it’s all right.’ Robbie hopped towards her, rescued the cup of tea that was in danger of slipping out of her grasp and then sat down close to her and took her hands. ‘I understand. I know it’s worse for you and Ma and Pops when I’m up there. You see, we’ve all too much to think about when we’re in the thick of it, but you’re just all waiting – and fearing the worst. It must’ve been dreadful for you the night we didn’t come back.’

Fleur sniffed. ‘It was. I stood for ages just watching the blank space on the board.’

‘It’s worse for Fleur than for us in a way,’ Meg said gently. ‘She’s on the spot seeing what’s happening.’

‘Do you think you should apply for a transfer?’ Robbie suggested, but before he had finished speaking Fleur shot back, ‘No! I want to be there. I want to be near you. I
have
to be near you, even if it is tearing me apart. I’m not the only one: there are several girls on camp with boyfriends or fiancés – even one or two more are married like us. It’s the same for them.’ She pulled in a deep breath and forced a tremulous smile. ‘No, I’ve just got to keep going but – just for a while – whilst you’re laid up, I’ve got a bit of a respite. And, now you’ve done a full tour, you . . .’

Her voice faded away at the rather sheepish look on his face. Her heart sank. Without him saying a word, she knew that Robbie would get back on operations as soon as he could. But she said nothing more. She didn’t want to worry his mother. At least she could let Meg stay in blissful ignorance if only for a while. She forced a smile as she added, ‘Now you’re grounded, we can all relax.’

She looked up at him and he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. ‘Except that you’ve lost Kenny,’ he murmured.

‘Yes,’ she said heavily. ‘I’ve lost Kenny.’ She closed her eyes and leant against him. Perhaps one day she would tell him about the heavy guilt that lay on her. How she had bargained for Robbie’s life. But not just now. She couldn’t speak of it just now. It was all too raw.

The hours of her short leave were over all too quickly. Her goodbyes said, she left the house as the air raid warning sounded. Fleur hurried along the street. I hope Robbie and his mother and Pops go to the shelter. Robbie can hobble that far on his crutches, she thought. And if I can make it to the railway station, I’ll be safe there . . . She could hear the drone of enemy aircraft yet no bombs seemed to be falling on this part of the city. As she hurried along she was sure she heard thuds in the distance, and saw the night sky to the north of the city illuminated by exploding bombs.

Some poor devils are taking a hammering, she thought, but at least it’s not us tonight. Reaching the station, she found that the trains had been delayed.

‘Air raid Newark way,’ the waiting passengers were informed. ‘No trains running until it’s over.’

And even when it was and the all-clear sounded, the announcement came that the line had been damaged and no trains would be running that night.

‘Oh Lor’,’ Fleur muttered. ‘I’m going to be in trouble. I’ll be late back at camp. And I’m not even supposed to be in Nottingham. Oh heck!’

‘You stranded like us, love?’ a merry voice called out and Fleur turned to see three young men in RAF uniforms standing together.

‘Seems like it.’ She smiled and moved closer. ‘Where are you heading?’

‘A place called Wickerton Wood.’

Fleur’s smile widened. ‘Me too. I’m stationed there.’ She held out her hand and the four of them exchanged first names. Then Fleur suggested, ‘Shall we share a taxi?’

‘A taxi? That’ll be awfully expensive, won’t it?’

‘Not if the four of us chip in.’

‘Righto – I’ll see if there are any outside the station, though they might all have gone by now . . .’ The youngest-looking one of the three men dropped his kitbag and loped off in search of transport.

The others stood together, feeling awkward, smiling in that embarrassed way that strangers meeting for the first time do. In only a few minutes the airman returned. ‘There’s just one left,’ he panted. ‘Says he’ll take the four of us.’ His grin widened. ‘And he’ll only charge us for the petrol. He’s got a lad in the RAF down south. A fighter pilot. He’s glad to help, he says. Hopes someone’ll do the same for his lad if he’s stranded anywhere.’

‘Righto. Come on, love. Need any help?’

‘I’m fine.’ Fleur smiled. ‘As long as he gets us back to camp, I’ll ride on the running board.’

They laughed but they all squeezed into the car, three squashed in the back and the airman with the longest legs taking the front seat beside the driver.

‘Now then, mi duck, what are you doing out with these young rascals?’

Fleur laughed. ‘I’ve only just met them on the platform whilst we were waiting for the train. I’ve just been home to see my
husband
.’

There was a unanimous groan and one of the airmen said, ‘Just my luck! And there I was thinking I’d met the girl of my dreams.’

In the darkness, Fleur smiled to think that that was just how she had met Robbie.

There was laughter before another asked, ‘Your husband? What does he do?’

‘He’s a wireless operator on bombers, but he’s on sick leave. A broken leg.’ She stopped herself saying more. These boys looked incredibly young. They were probably just out of training. Maybe this was their first posting. It wouldn’t do to talk to them about crash-landings.

‘How did that happen?’

Fleur chuckled. ‘You seem to be asking an awful lot of questions. I’m not sure I should be telling you.’ And again, the car was filled with laughter.

They chugged along, going at a steady pace through the blackout with only the pencil-thin beams from the partially blacked-out headlights to illuminate their way. It wasn’t until the early hours that they reached the gates of the camp.

‘Now for trouble,’ Fleur muttered as she clambered out. ‘I’m about four hours late.’

‘So are we,’ one of the airmen said cheerfully. ‘But it’s hardly our fault Jerry decided to drop a few bombs – just to make us feel welcome.’

‘Right, tip up, chaps. Let’s pay this kind feller for bringing us. At least we’ve got here. If we’d waited for the train it could have been a week on Tuesday!’

Fleur fished in her bag to find her money but the airman said, ‘No, love. We’ll sort it. It’ll be nice for us to have a friendly face about the camp. This is our treat. All right, lads?’

‘Yeah, course it is. Where is it you work, Fleur? Canteen, is it?’

Fleur smiled to herself. Why did all men take it that the only job women could do was to serve them their meals?

‘No. I’m in Control. I’m an R/T operator.’

‘Really? That’s great. It’ll be good to know we’ve got you watching out for us when we’re up there.’

Did she imagine it, or was there a tiny note of apprehension in the young man’s voice?

Fleur was allowed straight into the camp, but she had to bid the others farewell whilst they waited for their identities to be checked and all the formalities for new arrivals to be gone through. Thankfully, Fleur slipped away into the darkness towards the WAAF quarters and crept into the room she shared with Ruth.

‘Oh, thank goodness!’ Ruth sat up in bed at once. ‘I’ve been that worried. Are you all right? I’ve been ringing your home, but it seems the lines are down.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Fleur whispered. ‘There’s been an air raid in the Newark area, but I was in Nottingham.’

Ruth’s chuckle came out of the darkness. ‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me? Good job you’ve got back when you have, else you’d’ve been for it. How did you get back? Are the trains running?’

‘No. I met three RAF lads coming here, would you believe, and we shared a taxi.’

‘A taxi? Heavens! Have you come into a fortune?’

‘No,’ Fleur giggled softly as she climbed into her single bed. ‘They paid. But the driver was very generous. Didn’t charge us the going rate as we’re RAF. His lad’s serving down south.’

Ruth sighed and lay down. ‘There’s still some nice people about.’

They lay in silence for a few minutes and Fleur was just about to fall asleep when Ruth asked tentatively, ‘D’you think your folks are all right? I mean, you said the air raid was in the Newark area, didn’t you?’

‘Mmm,’ Fleur said sleepily. ‘They’d be after the airfield there, I expect. But we live several miles from Newark. Right out in the country. There’s nothing there worth bombing.’

‘But the telephone lines are down.’

Fleur yawned. ‘Well, they will be, won’t they? But they’ll be all right. Our farm’s miles from anywhere. Right out in the wilds. Dad didn’t even build a shelter . . .’ And with that, she fell asleep.

But for some reason she couldn’t explain, Ruth was left wide awake staring into the darkness.

Meg read the news in the paper the next morning and her blood ran cold.

‘Robbie, oh, Robbie . . .’ Meg was hurrying up the stairs to his bedroom, breathless as she pushed open the door. ‘Oh, Robbie, it’s Jake – it’s Fleur’s folks. I know it is.’

‘What?’ The young man sat up in bed and snatched the paper from her trembling hands. He scanned the newsprint whilst she sank down on the end of the bed, clasping and unclasping her hands in agitation.

He looked up at her. ‘It doesn’t mention South Monkford. It could be anyone. It doesn’t even give the name of the farm. What makes you think it’s them?’

Meg stared at him and pressed her hands to her bosom. ‘But South Monkford is west of Newark. And I just know, Robbie. I feel it. In here. I know it sounds daft to you, but I just know.’

‘Well, there’s one way to find out,’ Robbie said, swinging his legs out of the bed and hoisting himself upright. ‘We’ll ring the hospitals.’

‘Oh, Robbie, can we do that?’

He looked down at her and tenderly touched her cheek. ‘Anything, Ma, to take that devastated look off your face.’

Robbie spent half the morning in the phone box at the end of the street, feeding in coins one after another and hopping on his crutches between it and the corner shop for more change. After several calls – he lost count how many – he replaced the receiver slowly and pushed open the door of the box. As it swung to he leant against it briefly and his glance went to the front door of his home.

She was standing on the step, her hands clasped together, looking up the street towards him, but as he pushed himself away from the phone box and began to limp towards her, he saw her fingers flutter to her mouth. Then she turned and disappeared inside the house.

She knew already, from the droop of his shoulders, that he was about to bring her bad news.

The news was broken to Fleur by Caroline Davidson. How many more tragedies is this poor girl going to face? she was thinking as she said gently, ‘My dear, we have just received information that your home was hit in last night’s air raid.’

Fleur swayed momentarily, but remarkably she remained standing at attention. Silently, she was thinking, I was glad that it wasn’t the city getting it last night and all the time . . . But aloud, all she said was, ‘Are they dead, ma’am?’

‘Your mother – I’m sorry – yes, but your father is in hospital. Evidently, he wasn’t in the house when it was hit, but he tried to get into the burning building to save her. He’s . . . he’s very badly hurt, my dear, but he is still alive.’ There was a pause and her unspoken words seemed to hang in the air. At the moment. ‘He’s in hospital in Nottingham. I need hardly say you are released from your duties immediately. I am issuing you with a seventy-two-hour pass on compassionate grounds . . .’

The journey back to Nottingham by public transport was impossible, but Caroline had pulled strings and arranged a lift for Fleur with an RAF vehicle due to go to the city that day. The journey seemed to take three times as long as normal. All the way, Fleur repeated the same prayer. ‘Don’t let him die. Oh, please don’t let him die.’