Down Daisy Street (38 page)
‘Fortunately, it isn’t snowing,’ he said, grinning at them. ‘But there’ll be a uniform parade in the building we just passed at 0730 hours so you’d best get your heads down as soon as you can.’
‘They might give us a chance to get ourselves some breakfast,’ Jane grumbled as soon as the middle-aged warrant officer had left the tent. She glanced round her and gave a shudder. ‘By God, queen, I never thought they’d purrus in a bleedin’ tent – and this is a four month course, ain’t it? Why, we’ll die of the perishin’ cold once winter sets in.’
‘They’ll move us into proper Nissen huts in a few weeks,’ Kathy said reassuringly. ‘A tent full of frozen Waafs won’t be flyin’ balloons for anyone! Don’t worry about it. They’re not daft, you know.’
‘I hope to God you’re right because I hate being cold,’ Jane said crossly. ‘And anyway, why on earth do we need extra uniforms so soon?’
Kathy shrugged. ‘You know the WAAF,’ she said resignedly. ‘I don’t suppose we’ll wear the new stuff we’re issued with for weeks, but they like to get everything done as soon as possible.’ She glanced around her at the exhausted girls. Most of them were making up their beds but one or two, still fully dressed, had simply climbed between the blankets, removing only cap and shoes, and were settling themselves to sleep. ‘No use worrying about it, Janey. If we get a move on, we might actually fall asleep before reveille.’
Despite the fact that every draught known to man – or woman – seemed to whistle under the tent flaps, the exhausted girls slept well and woke reluctantly when a voice from the tannoy reminded them that it was 0600 hours and time to get up. Because it was a new station and they did not yet know what lay ahead, everyone hurried. No one washed, apart from a quick dabble with what little water was available, and those who had not undressed the previous night stared with some horror at their creased and crumpled uniforms. Lucy, in the bed next to Jane, brushed herself briskly, twisted her hair into a hard little knob on the back of her head and jammed her hat down low over her eyes.
‘Will I pass, do you reckon?’ she asked Jane anxiously. ‘I ain’t never slep’ in me gear before but I was so bleedin’ tired I never give a thought to wharr’ I’d look like in the mornin’.’
‘We all look terrible, queen,’ Jane said comfortingly. ‘Kathy and me took off our skirts and battledress, but my skirt fell on the floor during the night and it’s got pretty creased.’ She peered out of the tent flap. ‘Anyroad, it’s so bleedin’ dark outside that they probably wouldn’t notice if we trooped to the uniform parade in our pyjamas.’ As she spoke, she jammed her cap on her tousled curls and winked at Kathy, and the three of them set off in the direction of the outside world. As it happened, Jane was right. At this hour of the morning no one seemed particularly interested in the new intake. The NCO who had come to call for them took them along to the cookhouse where they had tea and porridge before being escorted to a large hangar. They formed into a queue at the counter and were issued with trousers, overalls, thick seamen’s jumpers and socks, gloves and woolly hats, as well as short boots and thick mufflers. With their arms full of their new acquisitions, they made their way back to the tent and changed at once into the overalls, since the NCO had told them that the work they would be doing might well be dirty.
They were taken to the classroom where their training began immediately with recognising cordage, which meant rope from the very fine sort to the very thick ones so far as Kathy could see. Then they moved on to knot tying, learning a variety of both simple and complex knots which, their instructor informed them, they would be using constantly once they were on a real balloon site.
Over the days and weeks which followed the girls learned to know the workings of a barrage balloon more intimately than they had ever known anything before. Because a great deal of their work would be done in the dark and often in adverse weather conditions they were taught to recognise ropes, wire and cable and the many and complicated knots by feel, for they might well be controlling the balloon and unable to use their torches.
They were told that they must know enough about the winch engine to service it and keep it in good repair and, naturally, to put it right when it broke down. They must also be able to mend the balloon if any part of their enormous charge became worn or ripped, and were shown how to use a cobbler’s palm and a great curved sailmaker’s needle to patch canvas.
As well as all these things, there was aircraft recognition, so that if friendly aircraft looked like approaching too close to the balloons they could bring the balloon down. And they had to learn to use naval terms, for as far as the air force was concerned the barrage balloon was an airship and the girls were no longer a flight but a crew, so port and starboard and bows and stern were used rather than left and right and front and back.
At the end of six weeks, Kathy and Jane were given leave to go into the nearest town and relax for a few hours. It was an extremely cold day but the streets were busy with people and, though shop windows had little on display, there was a pleasantly festive spirit abroad for Christmas was not far off. The girls wandered round the shops, buying small gifts to send to the folk back home. Jane bought coloured pencils and a pad of rough grey wartime paper for her young brothers and sisters to share and Kathy bought a pair of grey woollen gloves for her mother and a monkey on a stick for Billy, although she told Jane he was far too old for it really, but she knew it would give him a laugh.
Having exhausted the charms of shopping they went into a small tearoom, ordered cheese on toast and a pot of tea, and leaned back in their chairs feeling wonderfully free of the WAAF for once. However, their talk speedily turned to barrage balloons and the training they were receiving.
‘It’s so bleedin’ technical! If I’d known from the start that I were goin’ to have to learn how engines work, how to recognise aircraft just from the sound of their engines, how to tie and untie knots in total darkness and all that, I’d have quit on the first day,’ Jane said, taking a long drink of her tea. ‘To tell you the truth, queen, I didn’t know I were capable of understandin’ such stuff and when I write to Jimmy and tell him what I’ve done, I feel right proud of meself.’
‘The air force knows what it’s doing. They teach you little bit by little bit, and the instructors make sure that each little bit gets well and truly dinned into our heads before they start on something else,’ Kathy said, cutting a wedge off her toasted cheese and dipping it into the puddle of red sauce on the side of her plate. ‘It is extremely technical, of course, and we’re obviously going to have to be really strong and pretty quick when we’re working with real balloons, but by the time we leave here I’m certain sure we’ll be able to cope. They aren’t hurrying us because they realise how important it is that we know exactly what we’re doing, and the reason they want us to know is because a barrage balloon is bloody important to the war effort and bloody expensive too,’ she ended.
Jane laughed and took a large bite of her own toasted cheese, speaking rather thickly through her mouthful. ‘You’re right there, queen. According to the NCOs, every bit of our equipment and every stitch of our uniform has gorra be treated like gold dust ’cos it costs a fortune to replace. But that doesn’t apply to us; we’re just bodies so far as they’re concerned. We get bawled at and punished and put on jankers for the least little thing and if we get a hole in a stocking and don’t mend it before one of the old cows comes round on an inspection, then we’ll be spud bashin’ for a week. Still, we won’t get none of that when we’re on a permanent site, they say.’
‘Yes, I know what you mean,’ Kathy acknowledged. ‘But, you know, the stuff our uniform’s made of is first class, really durable, I mean. Those black waterproofs may not be glamorous – well, they’re not – but they’d keep you dry in a thunderstorm, and now that I’ve broken them in I really love my lace-up boots. And the woolly jumpers and gloves and things are ever so warm – ever so cosy when you compare them with the ordinary WAAF uniform.’
‘And I suppose our blackouts and twilights are really sexy, really pretty,’ Jane said with a giggle.
‘And them lisle stockings – are they cosy an’ all?’
Kathy had to laugh as well, although she shook her head reprovingly at her friend’s descriptions of the black and grey issue knickers. ‘This is a smart tearoom full of civilians but, in any event, it’s no place for discussing knickers,’ she said severely. ‘I agree with you that our underwear isn’t very glamorous, but it isn’t supposed to be. It’s practical, warm and pretty comfortable. What more can one ask?’
‘One can ask a helluva lot more,’ Jane grumbled. She had recently been punished for wearing a piece of frivolous red ribbon to tie back her hair and was still full of resentment against the spiteful spinster officer who had penalised her. ‘Still an’ all, I know what you mean, an’ the blue uniform looks well on me; I can’t count the number of fellers who’ve telled me it brings out the colour of me eyes.’
Kathy sighed, knowing full well that blue did nothing for her; but then who would care on a balloon site manned by women? What mattered there would be efficiency and the speed with which you obeyed orders. She said as much and Jane smiled at her, affection and smugness mingling. ‘Oh you, Kathy Kelling,’ she said. ‘If you don’t know how good you look in your bleedin’ uniform then I don’t intend to swell your head by tellin’ you!’
As the weeks went on, both Jane and Kathy were aware that they were growing stronger, nimbler and more self-confident. They understood the workings of flying the balloons even though they had not yet actually done so, and could have named every part of the huge charges so soon to be theirs. When, in their turn, they went to the old airfield and actually flew a balloon, they could scarcely wait for the end of the course. They had been promised a week’s leave and after that would be posted to a balloon site ‘somewhere in England’, though they had no idea, as yet, where it would be.
‘But we’re bound to be together,’ Kathy told Jane joyfully. ‘I was talking to the Wing Officer this morning and she said that when they have a good crew they don’t want it split up.’
‘That’s grand,’ Jane said absently. She was trying to persuade her curls into a pompadour and having very little luck. ‘Are you goin’ home for your leave, Kath? Because if so, I s’pose you’ll go to Rhyl.’
‘I think I’ll come back to Liverpool for part of the week,’ Kathy said at once. ‘I don’t know a soul in Rhyl apart from me mam and Billy, so I wouldn’t want to spend the whole week there. But what about you, Jane? Don’t you want to go and see Jimmy? If you do, I thought I might come along. I’d – I’d like to see Alec again.’
‘Oh aye,’ Jane said, settling her cap on her curls and regarding her reflection anxiously. ‘I wonder if I oughter have me hair cut? Only it’s too curly to wrap round a ribbon and me cap looks silly sittin’ on top of it, like a cat on a gorse bush.’
Kathy laughed but considered the question seriously. ‘I think you’re right, you’d find it a lot easier to deal with if it was short,’ she said, ‘but you didn’t answer my question – aren’t you thinking of going over to see Jimmy? A week’s leave is long enough, you know.’
‘Oh, I dunno,’ Jane said. She headed for the door. ‘Do stop chatterin’, queen. One thing about being a Bop is that you’re always ready for your dinner.’
Kathy followed her friend along to the cookhouse; Jane had certainly given her considerable food for thought, even though she was clearly unaware of it. Kathy had never known her to prevaricate in the way she so often did now and she had certainly avoided Kathy’s question with all the adroitness at her command, which wasn’t much, Kathy concluded ruefully. She had noticed that Jane had several times flirted with some of their instructors but soon realised that showing disapproval merely annoyed her friend. After all, flirting meant nothing, not really. Jane had told her so often that she was in love with Jimmy and meant to marry him that it had not occurred to Kathy, until very recently, that time and experience could change not just one’s attitude, but also one’s feelings. Jane was a good girl, a loving sister to her siblings, an excellent friend to Kathy herself and a very good Waaf. But all around her, she was seeing other pretty girls falling in and out of love, going out with a different young man every two or three weeks and generally enjoying themselves whilst she, Jane, who was prettier than all of them, could only write letters and have an occasional phone call.
So when Jane had announced that she was going to the flicks with Sergeant Cripps or AC2 Taylor, Kathy could not find it in her heart to blame her. She was pretty sure that Jimmy probably talked and flirted with other girls, so why should not Jane do the same? She decided that Jane needed experience before settling down and salved her conscience by telling herself that Jane would turn back to Jimmy in the end.
At this point in her musings, she and Jane reached the long counter where the cooks were dispensing today’s rations. Kathy held out her plate and had mince and onions ladled on to it by one man and two huge scoops of mashed potato added to it by another. A third spooned cabbage into the mixture and then she and Jane made for the table where other members of their crew were already sitting. Kathy wondered whether to pursue the question of where Jane meant to spend her leave, then decided against it. It was a mean thing to do, to force her best friend into telling her lies, but that, she sadly acknowledged, was what would happen if she persisted. For some reason, Jane did not want her company if she did go to meet Jimmy, and Kathy supposed that this was fair enough. After all, they were together twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week and would continue to be so for the foreseeable future. So she changed the subject to wonder where their posting would send them, and by the time they had finished their meal she had banished Jane’s strange behaviour from her mind.
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